By the time Christmas had come and gone, and they brought in the New Year over cups of Miss Patty's punch in the town square, Luke and Lorelai found themselves more and more entangled in each other's lives.
After one too many grumpy early morning sneak-outs and some not-so-subtle maneuvers from Lorelai, Luke had finally spent an entire overnight in her flowery bedroom. The whole night. Several of them even. And some mornings too.
He had his own toothbrush (sans sparkles) sitting in the holder next to hers, there were actual frying pans in her kitchen, and more and more of his flannels had migrated into her overflowing closet.
It had been a blissful two weeks. Her parents had escaped snowy Connecticut for the white sand beaches of Bermuda shortly after the party. Not without the promise of a follow-up dinner with Lorelai and her new friend Luke however, upon their return.
Lorelai wasn't even bothering with that thought for now though. Out of sight, out of mind.
Rory was on winter break from school, and the two of them had spent hours making snowmen and snow angels out on the front lawn. On days where she had to work, Rory joined Lorelai at the Inn, where they'd gossip with Sookie in the kitchen over artisanal hot chocolate. Some days Rory opted to hang out at the diner with Luke, quietly reading while he worked. On others, she could be found over at Lane's, where the girls hid girlie magazines behind giant prayer books.
But secretly, the best days of Rory's winter break were spent at the elder Danes' house.
They took to her like bees to honey. It started with books–like so many other things in young Rory Gilmore's life, everything seemed to somehow be connected to books.
She'd been hanging out at the diner one early Wednesday afternoon, savoring the last couple of pages of her most recent literary obsession. Sitting at the counter with a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of extra marshmallows in front of her. There were only a few stragglers left from the morning rush, and Luke was mostly puttering around in the kitchen. Cleaning things, organizing, getting prepared for the dinner special that evening.
The phone rang, and he answered it on the second ring. It was his grandmother. She called over asking if Luke had some time to help out his grandfather. Apparently Lionel had decided that today was the day he'd finally attempt to organize the wall-to-wall bookshelves in the wood paneled den. Of course, he'd decided to tackle it on a whim, and simply took everything down before getting completely overwhelmed.
Norah didn't want to impose on Luke. But Lionel had clearly gotten in way over his head, and it was driving her insane. Too prideful to ask anyone for help, namely his grandson, Norah stepped in, as she so often did, to call over and ask Luke for some assistance herself.
True to his character, Luke agreed without so much as a hesitation. He hung up the phone and went to grab his military style jacket, calling over to his trusty employee Mike and giving him brief instructions on how to prepare for the lunch and dinner rush that evening.
Mike wiped his hands on his apron and nodded wordlessly as Luke spoke. There wasn't much to interpret, Luke rarely minced his words and Mike was used to taking over for the boss when he had to run an errand or two. In truth, he appreciated the extra hours, especially around the holiday time.
"Uh, Luke?"
Luke grabbed his keys to shove into his pocket and wrapped the scarf Lorelai had knit him for Christmas around his neck. "Yeah?"
Mike pointed at Rory, who still sat undisturbed at the counter. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
He leaned across and spoke her name softly at first. Louder the second time when she didn't so much as flinch.
Rory lowered her book and looked at him with wide eyes.
"Hey, how would you feel about taking a little field trip?"
She looked at him skeptically, "Is it to the meat market again? Because I don't think I can handle that a second time. Once was more than enough for me."
He couldnt help but crack a smile, "No, not the meat market."
Her eyes were alight with possibility, "The library?"
He supposed his grandfather's floor to ceiling bookcases were close enough, "Uh, something like that."
That was all it took. She shrugged into her coat and mittens, and grabbed her book bag without a second thought. "Well let's go!"
Norah pulled the pair inside the house with exhaustion written across her face. "Oh thank heavens you're here."
She smiled warmly at the sight of Rory, wrapping an arm around the young girl as Luke followed behind them down the narrow hallway that led to the den. The door was wide open, and all Luke could see inside was stuff. Everywhere. It looked like an explosion. He peered around the corner and found his grandfather sitting on the arm of the plaid patterned loveseat, which too was covered with books, framed photographs, and trinkets that had littered the shelves for decades.
He looked over at Luke with a hint of a bashful smile. And then stubbornly crossed his arms, "You called in the big guns, eh?"
"I sure did," Norah replied, revealing herself and Rory next to Luke in the doorframe.
Lionel's eyes lit up at the sight of the little girl who stood in amazement over the piles of leather bound classics, and old weathered paperbacks. She greeted him with a shy wave, and giggle when she realized he'd trapped himself in the corner without an escape route.
He stood up and gestured to the mess, "Lucas, are you gonna help me out of this damn room or not?"
Luke rolled up his sleeves with a smirk, and began clearing a path around the small room, while Norah ushered Rory into the kitchen. Despite the cold dreary day outside, inside that yellow kitchen, everything seemed bright and as always, smelled deliciously sweet.
Rory sat down at the kitchen table while Norah put on a pot of tea and quickly gathered an assortment of homemade Italian pastries out of Tupperware containers. With quick footwork, she sliced and assembled some tea sandwiches too, all the while humming a tune under her breath.
She soon slid the full platter onto the table and carefully poured two cups of tea for them, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk to each.
Rory decided that there was something so uniquely special about Norah Danes. She was so…warm. Like the cup of tea in front of her, she was sweet and strong, and had a comforting way about her. An easiness. An ability that made you want to talk to her about everything and nothing all at the same time.
She learned a lot about Norah that day in her sunny kitchen. She was born in Italy. In a small coastal village. She'd immigrated at only 5 years old, with her parents, her Nonna, and a baby sibling. She'd lived a simple yet happy life by the sea before immigrating to bustling New York City. She learned to cook from her Nonna from the time she could walk, and was always, always dancing.
Norah loved to dance. She'd once dreamed of being a ballet dancer. Often sneaking in through the back door to the Metropolitan Ballet with her sister. From behind a curtain they would observe the way the dancers held themselves tall and strong, gracefully elegant with each turn and twist. Rory quietly wondered why Norah had ever given up that dream, what with her exquisite poise, long legs, and lean frame, she seemed like she'd be a natural.
"How did you meet Lionel?"
Norah took a long sip of her tea with a dreamy look on her face, "While dancing, of course."
In the next room, Luke and Lionel had made quite a bit of progress. He'd managed to clear off the entire floor of books, neatly sorting them into several different piles at Lionel's discretion. Rory soon wandered in there too. She took a seat on the carpeted floor and politely interjected when Luke insisted his grandfather only needed to hold onto one copy of the Iliad.
"But what if something happens to it? It could get ruined and then he'd have no copies."
Wordlessly, Luke set the 3 copies of the Iliad in the "Keep" pile and kept going.
Lionel picked up one of the copies, a well worn leather-bound one with a slightly cracked spine. He handed it to Rory and patted her head gently, "How 'bout you hold onto this one for me?" She grinned and held it to her chest with promises to keep it safe.
After a couple more hours of sorting, dusting, and organizing, the room was really starting to take shape. Luke held Rory up under her arms to place the last two books from the "keep" pile onto the top shelf. She carefully slid them in place and giggled with delight when Luke gently tossed her in the air to celebrate.
She skimmed a finger along the edge of a lucite box holding a beaten up signed baseball that sat on one of the shelves. Her eyes sparkling when she noticed Luke's scrawl. She looked over her shoulder at Luke and Lionel who met her eyes at the same time.
Lionel perked up, "That was Luke's first home run!" He clapped Luke on the back in jest, "Took ya a couple'a games didn't it?"
Luke rolled his eyes and noticed the waning sun through the window. "Rory, we should start heading back. I don't want your mom to worry."
"Are we picking her up from work today?"
Luke got up off of the loveseat and heaved the heavy box on his hip that Rory had filled up with gifted books from Lionel's collection. "Yeah I have to check with the auto shop tomorrow to check on the progress with her car."
"Glinda!"
Luke furrowed his brow in confusion and she met him with a hand on her hip, looking eerily like her mother. "The Good Witch from the Wizard of Oz!"
"Gonna have to give me more than that kid."
"The name of mom's car. You know mom names everything!"
Oh, did Luke know.
"Alright, well I have to check on, uh, Glinda."
He heard a hearty chuckle from behind him and Luke turned around to shoot him a glare.
At the end of their visit, Lionel and Norah walked Luke and Rory to the front door where they showered them with hugs, thank you's, and plenty of to-go bags of pastries to share with Lorelai.
Luke helped Rory into the truck, and then went to the back to secure the heavy cardboard box. They made the 5 mile trek to the Independence Inn with Rory talking a mile a minute about their shared day. When they pulled into the driveway and crawled to a stop, Rory's voice got softer.
"Hey Luke?" She played with the fringe of her scarf, "I'll go on a field trip with you anytime."
Luke couldn't help the grin that tugged on his lips from her simple words. "Ditto."
XXXXXX
Lorelai came out of the bathroom later that evening with a cloud of steam behind her. She unclipped her curls from atop her head, and sighed with content as shuffled into her bedroom to find Luke sitting up against the headboard. He had a pen cap between his teeth as he scrawled something in the notebook that sat in his lap. She let herself ogle his bare chest for a minute with its light smattering of hair disappearing into the waistband of his low slung grey sweatpants.
The three of them enjoyed a low key dinner at home together. Luke had cooked spaghetti and meatballs, he'd zipped around her kitchen with precision, pulling out all types of kitchen utensils that Lorelai definitely didn't remember purchasing. For her part, Lorelai took a seat at the table with her daughter. Luke paused to place a glass of red in front of her and a Coke for Rory, while she filled her mother in on the exciting day she'd spent with the Danes's. While her daughter definitely inherited her expert storytelling gene, she was simply too distracted by Luke's stirring, chopping, and bits of commentary thorwn in with a few grunts to engage fully.
It was a typical scene of domesticity. Mundanely beautiful. It represented a dream that only existed in the deepest part of Lorelai's subconscious.
She had spent the first decade of her daughter's life in survival mode. It hadn't been an easy road as a young single mother, and she had plenty of tearful breakdowns in the bathroom while her daughter was sleeping peacefully in the next room to prove it.
But here and now, with her beautifully brilliant daughter by her side, and the man–her man–tending to her and Rory in the most genuine way she'd ever experienced, something clicked into place. Not for the first time since they became official, she wondered if this is what it meant when people said they felt positively full.
From his perch on the bed, Luke noticed her lack of movement. He noticed everything about Lorelai. He looked up at her from beneath his lashes, giving her a slow once-over at her choice of outfit. One more glance and scribble at the notebook in his lap, and then he tossed both items onto the nightstand with a careless flick of his wrist.
Lorelai moved to stand at the foot of the bed. She held an innocent pose there in one of her favorite Luke flannels. Blue and white checkered, it was barely buttoned halfway, exposing the long column of her neck and chest dotted with faded freckles. Her hair fell in thick curls behind her back, and she was barefaced, skin glistening from her shower.
Luke shifted himself on the bed, her piercing blue eyes and that outfit already having an effect on him.
She got on the bed on all fours, slowly crawling over him with a secret smile, loving the way his chest was rapidly rising and falling and the way his eyes greedily raked over her form. She kissed a spot near his hip, and then placed a million of those tiny kisses in a zig zag pattern across his chest. Up to his neck she travelled, laving his pulse with her tongue, and spending several long minutes nibbling on his ear until finally she heard him moan her name.
"Proud of yourself?" He murmured.
Again, that sexy little smirk appeared.
He couldn't take it any longer. In one swift move, he had her pinned beneath him. He met her halfway in an open mouthed soul crushing kiss, skimming his hand down her impossibly smooth and long legs, up to the roundness of her ass. Squeezing it and kneading her soft flesh with unrestrained desire.
His hips ground against hers, and she moaned at the feeling of his hardness pressed so firmly against her soft curves. His name came out of her mouth like a prayer as he worked her neck with his own talented tongue and used his fingers to expertly unfasten the few remaining buttons keeping the flannel held together. He combed his fingers through her hair, before his lips found hers again like a magnetic force. Once he had his momentary fill of her lips, he scattered kisses across her cheek and down the bridge of her nose.
He cradled her face, their breath mingling in their closeness. "Luke," she whispered. He cut her off with another kiss, capturing her irresistible lips with his own, nibbling on them in delicious torture. She found herself getting lost in his kisses again for several more moments, before pushing lightly on his chest. He hovered above her, but ground his hips against her once more with a smirk.
"Luke," she repeated, softer and more poignant this time. He fell to her side at the seriousness of her tone but couldn't resist sliding his hand through her silky hair, smoothing a few fallen strands away from her face. He waited for her to continue.
She took a single deep steadying breath. Another for good measure. And then released the words like a butterfly from a cage. "Luke, I love you."
He felt his breath catch in his throat.
She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.
"Lorelai," he breathed out.
She cut him off before he could get another word in. "You don't have to say anything." She hid her face against his chest, placing a kiss there right above his heart.
"Lorelai," he repeated. To which she only burrowed herself further away from his probing gaze.
With two fingers, he tilted her chin and finally locked eyes with her. "I love you, Lorelai."
Unshed tears appeared in her eyes and she squeezed them closed to will them away. With a beautiful smile on her lips, she savored the warm feeling those words in that tone from this man gave her from the inside out.
He kissed her again until their smiles turned giddy and laughter bubbled out. So contagious, the two of them grinned and giggled until their stomach muscles ached.
Luke was on his back now, staring up at the ceiling with Lorelai's head laid comfortably against his chest, listening to the steadiness of his beating heart. He traced a pattern against her hip with one of his fingers.
They spent several long moments like that. Simply wrapped up in each other. Letting the weight of those words surround them with a sense of comfort and belonging that neither of them really ever knew they needed.
Eventually she felt Luke's fingers against her hip get more and more exploratory until she was writhing and moaning and begging for more, "Make love to me, Luke."