Chapter 4 Say the Words
The walk to Lorelai's was short, mainly because he'd run a good part of the way. He kept pushing away the notion of Kirk being right, and also pushed the urge away of breaking into Doose's, stealing all the leftover pink ribbons and sticking them on his coat. After all, that would be an action, but now he needed the words, not the actions.
"Beg forgiveness, tell her I love her, I've been a dumbass, I'll do anything to make it up to her, camp out on her doorstep until she listens. Oh god, words. How can I ever convince her with words?"
He froze for a moment at the edge of her yard when he realized he didn't even bring coffee with him. Recalling Rory's and Jess' shout of "Go!" kicked his ass back into gear.
He bounded up the steps, still not knowing what to say first.
Judy Garland's voice echoed through the walls, reminding Luke of the many times they missed the ends of movies because they were busy making out.
Not just any making out like teenagers fumbling, not knowing what to do, but kissing.
Lorelai could kiss. Soul-exposing, backwards baseball cap brim curling, knock his boots off kisses.
He longed for that again. He longed for her chaste kisses in the diner that somehow left him tingling and in great danger of throwing everyone out so they could go upstairs and keep doing what they'd been doing so often in the mornings that his early suppliers began to tease him for always being late.
He longed for her flirty walk that ended in her X-rated kisses. He longed to hold her in his arms, to feel her laughing and teasing as she stripped his clothes off him or he stripped her clothes off her.
The longing was so great that it was no surprise that he completely forgot what he was going to say when she opened the door. Her natural beauty and moist eyes which surely had come from the movie she'd been watching created a primal urge in him. She was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her before, and he couldn't remember a damn thing he wanted to say. Not Kirk's words, not Rory's or Jess' words, not even the words he'd thought up by himself on the way over.
So he kissed her.
He enveloped her in his arms and she wrapped herself around him, clinging to him, rocking his world with this kiss.
Somehow the door was closed and he felt his coat magically falling off him. Her ponytail was gone, too, as he thrust his fingers into the gloriously thick hair that he'd missed so much, the smells he'd only experienced recently when he allowed himself to sniff her shampoo, still on the same shelf in his bathroom.
He suddenly broke away from her, fell back against the wall, and shouted, "Words!"
"No, honey, those were kisses. Has it been so long you can't tell the difference anymore?" She teased as she plastered herself against him.
She was kissing him again, stealing his soul with every touch, claiming him for herself. He had never in his life been as happy as he was right now.
Feeling both weak and invincible at the same time, he squeaked out "Words" one more time between kisses.
"I'm sorry," he said as his lips worked their way down her neck, landing on her collar bone as he sucked hat one sensitive spot that made her moan. "I've been an idiot."
"You felt betrayed," she murmured, rubbing her thumbs up and down the delicate skin behind his ears. "I lost your trust because I didn't tell you about meeting Christopher."
He touched her forehead with his own. "I know nothing happened, but I still got mad. I still left the party that night. I still pushed you away. That was stupid and wrong of me."
He pulled her tightly into his arms, burying his face in her hair. "Forgive me?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. Pulling back a little, she looked up at him, a watery smile on her face. "Luke, I ..."
"I love you," he said, gliding his thumb across her cheek.
"Hey, I was going to say that," she smiled. "I love you too."
"I needed to say it," he said softly. "I needed to tell you the words, so you'd know."
"Words. You needed the words. Words are good."
They stood in the foyer, a little dazed by the impact of words they'd never said to each other before. Slowly, Luke began to move, first catching a strand of her hair between two of his fingers. He smiled at the touch, the softness of the curls as they wound themselves around his fingers, stretching, then bouncing back.
In the meantime Lorelai was kissing his chest where she'd opened a button or three. She splayed her fingers across the dark T-shirt he wore, letting her nails draw a pattern across his chest. Kissing fabric wasn't enough and she quickly moved to his muscular neck, her lips searching out and finding his pulse points.
She growled and nibbled at his collarbone for a moment more, then bent down and removed his boots, carefully setting them in a perfect line next to her shoes, just where they belonged.
As she turned to go to the living room, he captured one hand and followed her lead. He was completely unable to stop touching her, even for a moment. She stopped behind the sofa, then turned to him.
Opening the final buttons on his flannel, she slid it off his shoulders and arms, letting it fall to the floor. She grasped his wine-colored T-shirt, pulling him with her as she fell backwards onto the sofa. Luke managed to land off to the side so he didn't crush her, but he covered her body with his own, propping himself up on his elbows.
Instantly their lips met, savoring the kiss of true lovers who had managed to say what goes so often unsaid.
Taking a breath, Luke said, "You've got me where you want me, don't you?"
"I've got you where you belong," she countered, and he agreed. Passionately. With his lips, and his hands and his body.
"I missed this," he said, "I missed us." He ran his index finger down her neck onto her chest, tracking a pattern along the freckles. "I missed these freckles." He pushed her blue hoodie off her shoulders and she extracted her arms from it, leaving only her white tee against his red one.
He kissed her tenderly, his soft lips drawing her lower lip and tugging gently before releasing it again. She curled her fingers through his too-long hair, the curls pointing wildly in various directions.
They stretched out side by side on the sofa, experiencing the feel of the other person's body, making sure all the parts they had loved and missed were still there.
Luke cradled Lorelai in his arms, and he felt the tension in his spine flow away. Lorelai slowly rubbed her foot against his, feeling the long, hard bones of his feet massage the arch of her foot.
As she drew her knee up to slide her leg over his own lithe, muscular calf, Luke began his attack from the top. Lorelai's head rested in the crook of his arm, and he gently distributed the espresso-colored strands over his forearm. He catalogued once again the many scents that comprised Lorelai in the evenings. She'd showered that evening, telling him that she'd been running late for work that morning.
He pressed his lips against each eyebrow in turn, feeling them arch as she impishly grinned before tickling the long scruff on his neck.
"Did I scare you just now?" she asked with fake innocence. "Like, aren't you afraid of the insane spinster woman stalking you all day, occasionally shouting, 'Luke Danes, I love you!'"
Luke snorted even as he relished the banter that was slowly returning to them. "Between Miss Patty, Kirk, and Crazy Carrie, I think the stalking roster is full."
"Kirk said he loved you?" Giggles were irresistible against the images in her mind.
"He's got the night shift covered," sighed Luke. "He feels free to share when you're not around."
He traced a random path from Lorelai's neck through her freckles. "Anyway," he said softly, "I said it first, not you."
Her smile lit up her face. "That's true! They were your words! You spoke first!"
He grinned. "For once I got a word in edgewise."
He ducked before she could swat him.
Then he kissed her again. Tried to show her again how he felt, but once more her kisses were making him weak in the knees. How could he ever think that he needed 'time to think' about their relationship? It was like jumping off a twenty story building while contemplating if it would hurt when he landed.
"Do me a favor?" He asked when she took a break from realigning his world with her lips.
"Mmm-hmmm," she replied as she cuddled closer, sleep beginning to overtake her.
"The next time I tell you I need time, don't give it to me. Camp on my doorstep, hire a brass band, do whatever it takes to make me listen. I don't need time. I just need you."
"Whatever it takes? Can I ring a loud bell?" she yawned.
"Yep."
"Picket the diner?"
"Whatever it takes."
"Sic Rory on you with the Rory face?"
He shuddered. "Yes, even that."
She was dozing off as she mumbled, "You got it, babe."
He reached backward with one long arm to support himself on the back of the couch. Luke stretched a leg slowly and carefully over Lorelai's sleeping body and just at the right moment, he leveraged his body to launch himself onto the floor without waking her. It was way past time to take care of his personal needs and he was thirsty.
The downstairs bathroom was as messy as ever. He often wondered if it wasn't more of a closet than a bathroom, and he'd never quite understood why Rory and Lorelai referred to it as a magical portal into another location, or what Sookie had to do with it. One pathetically slow, noisy flush was enough for him to add 'toilet float' to his hardware store shopping list.
Rooting through the fridge, Luke noticed the presence of real food, leftovers stored in containers he recognized as coming from Sookie. Lorelai was too thin, as if she hadn't been eating. He knew the feeling. He didn't cook any better for himself than he did for his customers, and he wasn't even hungry most nights because he worked himself to exhaustion on purpose. Collapsing into bed, too tired to take care of himself, was easier than lying there waiting for the sleep that wouldn't come.
Observing that Sookie had obviously been providing healthy food that Lorelai as usual hadn't touched, he pulled several containers out of the fridge and began laying out cheese, grapes and crackers on a small plate. He opened a bottle of water and leaned against the counter drinking deeply.
"Got some of that for me?" asked a sleepy Lorelai as she padded quietly into the kitchen. He handed her his bottle and she draped her body over his before she finished the bottle.
"Eat," he urged, one hand on her waist and one lifting the plate.
"You first. You're too skinny." Lorelai piled cheese on a cracker and tried stuffing it into Luke's mouth.
He pushed it back, asking, "How old is this anyway?"
Lorelai shrugged. "If you don't recognize it, then it's less than a month old. We've been apart for a month." She glanced at him through her eyelashes and saw the pain on his face.
"I'm a dick," he said. "I let you down."
"I lied to you," she replied, crumbling the cracker and dropping it onto the counter. "You being all in didn't include a free pass for me to treat you badly."
"I shouldn't have left that night. I shouldn't have told you I needed time. I had nothing but time in the past month and got nowhere except hell."
Lorelai shivered from her own recollections of the past month.
Luke set the plate of food on the kitchen table and pulled two more bottles of water out of the fridge.
They sat at the table, legs entwined, one hand connecting with the other person's body as if letting go would mean they disappeared. Luke held up a small bunch of grapes, and Lorelai scrunched up her nose. He sighed, stood up, went directly to the right cabinet, took out a box of Pop-Tarts and popped two into the toaster.
"Goody!" she cried and went to where he was standing next to the toaster eating grapes. "You remembered."
"Some things about you stick."
Pulling a paper towel off the roll, he put the hot Pop-Tarts onto it and slid it onto the table in front of Lorelai.
As she waved her hand in front of her mouth to cool the too-hot pastry that she had shoved inside, Luke acknowledged that he had to follow the book and strive for open communication.
"Lorelai, you've been my fantasy for years. I was all in, but 'all in' fell apart when I was faced with reality."
"I knew it!" she said, "I'm too flawed to be loved. I knew it all along."
"No! I'm grateful that you understand my stuff, like the boat or my dark day. I really hate that I couldn't do the same when I heard about you and Christopher when his dad died. That's why I'm a dick."
"Oh, the Gilmore feet of clay," she said sadly. "I'm surprised you stuck with me this long. Buying your boat was a good thing because now I have a place to keep my industrial-strength emotional baggage. I want my boat back, by the way," she joked half-heartedly.
"Lorelai, that's not what I meant at all! Geez! What I'm trying to say is, I said I was all in, but I was all in to a fantasy, not a human being."
Luke flashed back to the discussion he'd had with Jess on this very topic. "I had expectations out of line with what I deserved, hell, with what I want. Lorelai, I love you. The real you. The Luke who became your boyfriend had a fantasy of Lorelai Gilmore, the perfect girlfriend, and that was unfair to you."
"Ok, I'll agree that Luke was a dick."
He harrumphed in agreement. "Finally we agree on something."
"Under one condition," Lorelai added. "The Real Lorelai Gilmore, trademark! gets to have the real Luke Danes as her boyfriend."
"Deal, as long as you remember I'm always going to hate Christopher, even though I know he's always going to be Rory's dad."
"And the imperfect Lorelai Gilmore is never going to forgive her mother for trying to break us up. I don't want you trying to convince me anymore to build bridges. I'm done with Emily and Richard Gilmore."
Luke exploded off the chair. "Oh my god! Your mother! What the hell is wrong with your mother?"
"That's going to be chapters 7-12 of my memoir. The stupid vow renewal gets its very own chapter."
"She came to the diner tonight," confessed Luke.
"Emily? What did she do now?"
"She told me to come back to you. That I'd won you, like you're a prize pig at the fair."
An ice age moved into the crap shack. The words fell from her tongue like an iceberg splitting off a glacier. "You came here tonight because Emily Gilmore told you to? What the hell is wrong with that woman? She breaks us up, then commands us to get back together, like she's a Russian czarina."
"No!" he shouted. "I didn't even speak to her. She's psychotic if she thinks I'm ever going to do what she says."
Lorelai backed up, not yet convinced. "Then why are you here?"
"After she left, I closed he diner and went upstairs. I was miserable, and all my plans to get your attention had backfired, so I decided to come see you, to beg you to forgive me."
"Not buying it, Dr. Phil. Luke Danes doesn't beg. Wait, what do you mean, 'all your plans?'"
He looked at his feet, mumbling, "Well, the school thing. And I figured if I took the boat you'd come yell at me, and I always kept a pot of coffee on in the evenings hoping you'd come in." Red-faced, he added, "I even hoped Mimi might make an appearance."
"You're talking about the plan in which you don't tell me how you feel or even manage a complete sentence asking me out, and this goes on for eight years?"
Red-faced, he nodded. "I didn't say it was a good plan. It was just the only plan I had until I got the book."
Her arms wrapped halfway around her body, trying to prevent the crushing disappointment she was sure was coming. "I'm still trying to understand this, Cool Hand. Why did you come here tonight?"