Title: Yoga Kills

Rating: PG

Luke had never actually been into Lorelai's house before. It was an experience like none other. He'd already nearly tripped in a large pothole in her drive - she claimed was caused by gophers but was more likely due to the missing concrete slab that seemed to be propping the garage door closed - and grabbed the porch rail only to have it almost come away in his hand. The place was like the house of horrors.

"I'm fixing that tomorrow." Luke muttered, letting Lorelai use him as her personal leaning post as they maneuvered their way up the steps. The crutches had long since been abandoned as they hindered more than they helped at this point.

"You can do that? You work in a diner."

"I'm multifaceted, what can I say? I flip, I fry, I mend porches... your garage door could do with some looking at too." He could see already that this property could easily keep him busy for several years if he felt the inclination to fix all the little flaws he kept noticing.

"So handy. Ow." Lorelai winced again letting go of him momentarily and leaning back against a more stable part of the front of her house. It seemed the secure parts were pretty few and far between.

"It was real gentlemanly of you to escort me home like this," Lorelai grinned through the pain, motioning him back towards her so she could lean on him to get to the door. "How much did Rory pay you? If she broke into my pirate chest for this she's so grounded."

"No, no monetary bribes except that you two are two of my best customers, I like you in one piece.

"You only like me because my caffeine dependency keeps you in veggie burgers and spinach?" Lorelai sighed dreamily; "You just blow me away with the complements."

"I try," Luke grunted, still trying to support her as she fumbled around in her purse for her keys. It seemed to take her several times longer to do something simple like that than any normal person.

Trying to ignore her proximity was virtually impossible. Her hair brushed against his neck with every movement she made, wafting cinnamon-y scent to his nose. Her fingertips dug into his shoulder blade as she gripped him in order to remain upright. Logically he knew she clung to him for reasons of stability and pain alone, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

"Crap. No keys." Lorelai huffed out a long breath, "bad, bad, bad ow."

Luke stared at her in amazement. "How can you not have your keys?"

She screwed he eyes shut in apparent pain and her grip on his shoulder tightened uncomfortably. Lorelai had a surprisingly firm grip. "Uh, left 'em somewhere."

"You--" Luke huffed out a breath in frustration, trailing off. Just great.

"Jeremy," she blurted, raising a hand triumphantly.

"What?"

"Uh, the turtle just over there on the window sill. That's Jeremy," Lorelai explained.

"Does Jeremy know where your house keys are?"

"No, he's a china turtle." Lorelai gave him a 'duh!' look and continued. "He has a key in him."

"Can we stop referring to him in the third person? He isn't sentient and honestly it's little creepy." Luke made sure that she had a decent leaning position against the wall then set about getting Jeremy to give up the house key.

"Do I have to tell you how dangerous leaving your key just outside your front door is, and that you're encouraging thieves?"

"No."

Luke finally released the key from its hiding place. "If I did tell you, would it make even the slightest difference?"

"Eh, probably not."

"Okay then."

Luke unlocked the door quickly, and helped Lorelai into the hallway. The house was definitely what he would describe as eclectic. Still it was certainly very homey and every inch screamed of her feminine influence. All of the surfaces he could see were covered with nick-knacks of varying sizes and styles, and there were photos in frames lined up along the mantle of Rory and Lorelai at various points in their lives. He dropped the key onto the table beside the phone and aided Lorelai's movement towards the centre of the room.

Once near enough to the sofa Lorelai flopped bonelessly onto the piece of furniture in question with a quiet 'Oof' then a second later an even more muffled 'ow'. "Hey, could you grab the magic pills from the kitchen?" She pointed vaguely across the hall and Luke turned to go on a painkiller search. "They're on the counter by the coffee maker."

After stepping over what seemed like several thousand assorted pairs of shoes and a large cardboard box of books, Luke found the kitchen. The bottle of vicodin was pretty easy to locate once he'd worked that out. There were several take-out menus magnetised to the fridge and a post-it with the phone number of someone called Chris on it.

"You realise that saucepans aren't really supposed to be used as planters, right?" Luke queried, as he made his way back to the sitting room and handed the bottle to Lorelai.

"They looked pretty, and weren't getting any use as saucepans. I don't make sauce."

"I have no idea how you've managed to survive this long."

"Pop-tarts, take-out and red vines are a winning combo," Lorelai informed him in delight, already knowing exactly what he thought of their daily diet.

"That's disgusting, and I reiterate what I said before. That stuff will kill you."

"Hasn't had a detrimental effect as yet. I live to contradict the norm." Lorelai gestured at herself with the bottle, and continued as another thought hit her. "You do realise that over 50 of the food I eat is cooked by yourself. Therefore if I die, it's mostly your fault."

"That's lovely, just what I want on my conscience."

She grinned, "It has a certain poetic irony I think."

"Take the damn medication."

"Why Luke, do you want me drugged so you can--?"

"If you take the pills, do you shut-up?"

Lorelai considered this for a moment. Bearing in mind that once she'd taken them the night before she'd been out like a light in ten minutes flat... Rory had been forced to leave her in the middle of the living room floor for most of the evening because she couldn't move her. "Yes."

"Then yes, I do want you drugged."

Lorelai gave him a mock shocked look. "That's just mean."

She downed the little white capsules along with a slurp of the water then continued. "These are some kick ass painkillers let me tell you. Knock you out like that," she snapped her fingers in emphasis.

"Then should you not, I don't know, take them when you're upstairs?"

"If I do that, I'll never get back down here again. You have conveniently stolen my crutches, for God knows what evil mastermind plan. If I go up there I won't have food, nor will I have the joys of the VCR. I'll get bored, and that is just downright dangerous. If I need the bathroom I might have to crawl up there — I'll deal with that when it happens. Oh, if I was up there then slide down the banisters or down the stairs on my ass, which while fun will just give me carpet burn. It's probably not worth it."

Luke rolled his eyes at her. "Down here it is... Do you at least have blankets or anything?"

"Uh, upstairs." She smiled pleadingly, and Luke nodded. He had an inkling that he knew who was getting her things from upstairs. "Blankets are on the bed, and grab a shirt and sweatpants if you can."

"Right," Luke had started a mental list of the things she had asked for before realising exactly where he would have to go to do all of this.

"Thanks Luke, Mother Teresa ain't got nada on you." Lorelai grinned, lounging back against the arm of the couch.

Luke wasn't sure whether he should take the comparison between himself and an eighty-odd year old woman as a complement or not. Saint or no saint she was still twice his age and female.

He entered her bedroom with a strange sense of caution. It felt oddly like entering a church, everyone thinks it's pretty and special but doesn't want to touch anything. It's sacrosanct. It was an odd comparison, but it worked somewhere in the recessed of his head.

He cautiously folded the blanket and duvet from the bed, the whole place smelled of her. Weird that, considering it was her room, he reminded himself sarcastically. He pushed the idea of Eau de Lorelai from his head and nasal passages and glanced around the room looking for the clothes she'd requested.

There wasn't anything on any of the surfaces that seemed to fit the criteria. He was pretty certain she wasn't going to want to wear a red top with sequins and straps, nor jeans, and the scarf was out. Then again, what did he know about Lorelai's sleep-clothing habits. She could sleep in a clown costume for all he knew. He hoped to God she didn't, because the thought was a little disturbing, but she might do.

He stepped towards her chest of drawers hesitantly. It still seemed wrong to go poking around in her things, despite the fact she'd asked him to get the stuff for her, and logically he knew he was crazy for finding it weird. It didn't stop him from feeling highly awkward as he pulled open the drawer.

He dug a hand around, figuring that maybe if he didn't look it was better. Grabbing the nearest T-shirt he could feel and some sweat pants he quickly closed the drawer again. He folded them both roughly and took the blanket from the bed before going back down to see to the comfort of the invalid.

When he got back down the stairs Lorelai was stretched out across the couch in what looked like a seriously uncomfortable position with her eyes closed.

Wow, they really were fast acting.

Luke sat on the coffee table opposite her and watched for a moment, considering his options. He could leave her like that, and let her wake up with a dead-leg and a neck crick or he could venture nearer and reposition her. His bolder side took hold in that moment of thought and he moved to try and shift her so she looked a little less awkward.

She was still dressed for outside in late-December and leaving her asleep on her couch in boots (or more precisely one boot) and a thigh length winter coat didn't seem quite right.

He eased the shoe off her foot placing it with the other of the pair in the hallway and started to roll her to remove the coat. She was light, but even so shifting dead-weight was never easy so he leaned her torso against his thigh as he carefully tried to extricate her from what had to be the most awkward and complicated coat that man could make.

As he rolled her back her hand landed on his wrist, fingers wrapping around his forearm and gripping on. Luke paused, thinking that perhaps she wasn't in quite such a deep sleep as he had believed. When she didn't make any more movement he sighed in relief and pried her fingers from his arms one by one praying she'd just stay asleep so he wouldn't have to avoid the how's and why's of him removing her clothes, however innocent.

Luke rolled her the opposite direction to remove the other arm from the jacket and eased it out from beneath her body placing it over the back of a nearby chair. He went back to her, tucked a strand of hair that had strayed across her face behind her ear and started to move away across the room. In the end he decided to sit in the armchair nearby. Picking up a magazine from the table, he looked over at her periodically, and kept telling himself it was just so he could make sure her leg didn't go green and fall off, or something equally distressing and possibly life threatening. She might get gangrene or something.

Yep. That was it.

Once he was sure she was all settled, was bored of the article about someone else's love life and realised that Rory would be back to check on her in the next hour or so, he scrawled a brief note which he stuck to the coffee table then watched her for a long moment.

Then he began to feel like a stalker, and left. Caesar would be wondering what the hell had happened to him anyway.

When Luke arrived with a couple of burgers and several donuts later that evening the door was open. He decided he really shouldn't be as surprised as he was. The Gilmore's habit of leaving doors unlocked or even just open was not one he thought was going to be changing anytime soon.
He knocked on the doorframe and called out before making his way into the living room proper. Lorelai was sprawled out on the sofa watching the cooking channel. It seemed ridiculous considering her complete lack of any form of culinary motivation. Then again, perhaps Sookie's influence was finally rubbing off on her.

Lorelai sat up hastily when he entered. "Sustenance, oh you truly are a God. What do you want your altar made of? Gold? Platinum? I think I have a few empty soda cans on the porch… I'll make an effigy of you out of leeks and couscous."

Luke chose to ignore her. "You're watching the Food Channel?"

"I'm bored, delusional; I might bribe someone who can actually cook into making this stuff for me." She shrugged, "Hey. You cook. Do you do gourmet?"

"Where's Rory," Luke asked, placing the paper bag of food on the table in front of Lorelai.

"Lane's. Apparently the imminent arrival of the Kim Clan involves a lot of preparation. She's helping Lane scrub and polish and re-alphabetise their Bible collection so the place looks nice and Christian."

"Sounds… thrilling." Luke responded, sarcasm lacing his words. Honestly, Mrs Kim made him nervous. He didn't think he'd ever actually set foot inside her shop, and if he could avoid it, he never would. She tried to give him a flier about fast food and it being the devil's way once, and the darkness in her stare would have killed a lesser man on the spot.

"Sounds like Hell, which is ironic really considering every time I set foot in that house that's where Mrs Kim tells me I am bound for. I told her that at least I'd get a good tan there once, and Lane tells me she's been praying for my soul nightly ever since."

Lorelai leaned forwards and pulled the burgers out of the bag with a smile, a smile which widened on discovery of a smaller bag of donuts. "Oh you do know me… and with sprinkles, yay."

"The second one was actually for Rory, but…" he shrugged.

"C'mon, eat with me. Make me feel like a little less of a loser." He made as if to refuse, so she continued. "At least this way I can say 'Hey, I had dinner with a man on Monday night.' Make all the girls at the Inn jealous of my stellar social life. Plus, I don't think one burger is going to change your life expectancy one iota."

Luke sighed, defeated and dropped onto the couch beside her. Honestly he didn't take much persuasion when it came to her. He didn't like to question the whys, it just made him uncomfortable. He didn't generally let anyone hold that much power over him. Somehow Lorelai seemed to wield it, and he didn't really mind much.

He turned his attention to the show on the TV as distraction. "What're you watching?"

"Delia Smith. She's British, and she cooks. It's the combo of a lifetime. There's an anthem that I created in deference of her. I'll save you from having to listen to it, but let me tell ya, she is totally deserving of my ultimate love."

Luke nodded in silence, thankful for the small favours that saved him from having to endure the Delia-Love song. She appeared to be conjuring up some kind of soufflé, and give her, her due it did look appetising.

"So 'Porn Star' huh?"

"What?" Luke jerked his attention away from the television and the repetitive whipping onscreen and onto Lorelai in mild shock. She sure knew how to ladle out the total non-sequitors.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement, and pointed at the glittery lettering across the front of her shirt. The shirt he'd collected for her. Lorelai's smirk grew at the horrified look on his face. "Nice choice."

Aw geez. How had he not noticed that before? Why must the woman have such provocative T-shirts? "Do you not have any normal clothing?"

"Oh, now what would the fun in that be? I have a pair of sweat pants with 'brat' stamped on the ass somewhere around. I should wear this into Stars Hollow. See if Taylor arrests me for public lewdness or something. That would be festive."

Luke just grunted. He wasn't entirely sure what the appropriate response to that particular statement was. In truth she was probably right, but he wasn't about to agree with her. Anything that drove Taylor up the wall was a guaranteed hit with him.

There was a lull in their conversation in which he put all his attention into the television, and Delia's latest culinary delight — some kind of risotto.

"Hey Luuuke, you know how you're all manly and strong an' all…"

Luke could sense already where this was leading. "What do you want?"

"Who said I wanted something?" Lorelai asked, attempting her best innocent expression.

"I recognise the tone, you want something."

Lorelai scoffed, "There's no tone."

"Out with it."

She paused before answering; it seemed she'd been busted after all. "It's not big or anything… well, actually it is big, but only in the literal sense. It's like a five minute job for someone as talented as yourself…"

"Lorelai just spit it out."

"Dirty."

"Lorelai--"

"You think you could change our water bottle?"

"Now I know why you're being flattering."

Lorelai attempted to defend herself, "I'm always flattering," she stated.

"Do you know how much less hassle there'd be if you didn't drink your water from a giant hamster bottle?"

"But then I wouldn't get to prevail on the strong and handsome young men of this fine town to flex their muscles in front of me changing it."

Luke got the sense that there was some more flattery buried in her ramble, and that it was probably a hint to just get on with it. Her way with words, and ability to get him to do things for her was rearing its head once more.

He sighed, "Fine. Is there a dishtowel in your kitchen?"

"There's a reason we eat out. No washing up."

Luke thought back to the state of her kitchen. It looked like possibly the least-used kitchen he'd ever been in. "Right, silly me."

"The bottle's on the porch outside the back door and actually, I think there's some paper towel on the counter next to the stove…" She gasped and grinned triumphantly, "You could totally be the paper towel guy! I just found your calling."

"That'll do." Luke ignored her final comment and started to leave the room, then turned back as he reached the doorway. "Try not to do anything crazy in the next five minutes."

"Pffft. Never."

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PS. The Delia anthem? Is totally courtesy of my aunt. It goes something along the lines of 'We love you Delia. Oh yes we do, etc.' It has a tune and everything.