Chapter 12: Sleeping in Light

"This is the second boarding call for United Flight 4924 to Hartford Bradley International Airport."

They were running through the airport as fast as they dared, which really meant it was a very speedy walk. It felt like every other traveler in Newark was going in the opposite direction from where they were headed. Why the hell did the airport have to be so big, Luke grumbled to himself. It wasn't as claustrophobic as JFK or LaGuardia, and who in their right mind would put not one, but two airports so close on a small island? But Newark was huger that it needed to be, and it didn't help that their flight from Europe had landed in terminal C. It had taken entirely too long to clear customs, meaning they had to rush to terminal A to catch the domestic flight to Hartford.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" Rory panted as they wove around other passengers.

Lorelai stumbled, nearing tripping over a luggage cart in the process. She hastily apologized and spun around in a circle while hopping on one leg. "Ow, my shoe!"

Luke's internal rant skidded to a halt as he whipped around to see Lorelai with her foot in the air. The heel on the boot that she wore had snapped clean off. "Why did you decide to wear heels in an airport?" he scolded, not for the first time that day.

"Because they were cute!" Lorelai protested with a pretty little pout. "Even the customs agent commented on it." She hopped a step and sighed. "Now the heel's broken, and I don't have any other shoes in my carry-on."

"I'll carry you. Here." Luke swung his duffel off his shoulder and shoved it in Lorelai's arms.

"You can't carrying me through the airport," she said, tossing the bag's strap over her shoulder so it could jockey for space with the hot pink purse that had become her favorite.

"Lorelai, the gate is right there." Luke indicated where Rory was, having abandoned them in her quest to get home on time. He crouched slightly so Lorelai could grab his shoulders. "Here, hop on my back."

Lorelai scrambled onto his back, gripping his shoulders tightly as she did so. He hooked his hands beneath her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She shifted the weight of their bags so it wasn't all one-sided. "Have you been working out?"

"It's called hauling all your crap around Europe for six weeks," Luke muttered as he started toward the gate once more.

Lorelai kissed Luke's hair, still hat-less. Eighteen ball caps had been slain throughout Europe in the name of Lorelai's pickiness over Luke's headgear. "And I love you for it."

Just as the words registered, before Luke could even begin to parse what she had just told him, reality intruded once more.

"Now boarding all rows for United Flight 4924 to Hartford Bradley International Airport."

Right. Plane first, then wondering if Lorelai had really just confessed her love or if she was just being Lorelai. Ignoring the stares, Luke all but jogged down the terminal with Lorelai on his back. They were nearly to the gate when he frowned, recognizing the area. A quick glance to his left revealed the large bank of monitors informing travelers of arrivals and departures, and he stopped. Everything almost seemed the way it had been six weeks earlier, with the exception of the nearby shop showing a very staid purse in crocodile green that wasn't Lorelai at all.

Lorelai tugged at his shirt. "Hey, hey, what're you doing? We don't need to look at a flight board. They're practically serenading us at the gate. Bob Barker is telling us to come on down, and we're about to miss our chance at the Showcase Showdown."

"No, no, it's just. This is it." Because he couldn't point, Luke nodded at the monitors.

"It?" Brow furrowed, Lorelai followed his gaze.

"Um … where you called me when your purse was stolen."

"Oh." He felt her smile against his hair. "So this is where you decided, why the hell not, and be Clint Eastwood riding to our rescue?"

"Something like that."

"I'm glad you came." She pressed her cheek to him.

"So am I." Their gazes fell on the lines of text showing the departing flights for Paris.

"Hey," Luke said after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

Lorelai's breath hitched, and her hold on him tightened. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her at that moment, in front of those boards that changed their lives. It was insane and romantic and so unlike him, that he was convinced Lorelai's brand of crazy was continuing to affect him.

Luke hoped it would for the rest of their lives.

Rory ran out of the gate area. She rolled her eyes at their more than slightly mushy looks at the monitors. "I don't know what the two of you are doing, but they're going to give your seats to this guy and his tuba if you don't get to the gate right now. Hurry!"

Nearly three hours later, they stumbled out of the truck before the Crap Shack. Originally, Rory's now battered-beyond-recognition itinerary had called for them to take a shuttle home from the airport, but Luke had proven himself a savior once more when he revealed that his truck was parked in long-term parking.

"Home," Rory gasped, lunging for the mailbox. She wrapped her arms around it, clinging to it for dear life.

"Hey, I was going to hug the mailbox!" Lorelai protested.

"You can hug the Jeep. Or the porch. The mailbox's mine."

"Fine, I'll take the porch. What do you want to hug?" Lorelai turned back to the truck, where Luke was grabbing their luggage from the back.

"The bed," he said with all honestly.

"Bed," Rory sobbed. "My bed."

"Oh, now look what you've done." Lorelai peeled an exhausted Rory off the mailbox and steered her toward the house. "You've set her off again."

"Not bed yet," Rory mumbled as Lorelai unlocked the door and all but shoved her inside. "Must say hello to my socks first. Sock drawer good. Bed better. And my books. Books are the best."

Lorelai flipped the light switch. "God," she huffed. "Don't trip."

Luke followed them with the backpacks, drawing up short at the number of boxes stacked just inside the door. More were in the living room. "How many are there?"

Lorelai did a quick count. "Twelve, and I think nos. 13 and 14 are still on the way."

"I'll build her another bookcase," Luke volunteered as Rory's attention was caught by the boxes. She wandered to each one, chattering to the books inside about how she was going to read them and take care of them and make sure they had a nice place to live.

"She might need an entire extra room at this rate," Lorelai muttered.

Luke merely gazed at her, then went to deposit Rory's backpack in her room and Lorelai's upstairs.

"You don't have to do that," Lorelai called up the stairs.

"It's the only way I'm guaranteeing I won't trip over them some time in the next three months, because if I leave them in the living room, they're not moving until October." Luke came back down shortly thereafter, pausing just long enough to give Lorelai a kiss. "If you two are good, I'll head home."

"I think we're good," Lorelai said, nodding to Rory, who in the span of two minutes had nestled herself among her boxes of books and fallen asleep.

"She's gonna be sore when she wakes up," Luke observed. "Do you want me to carry her to her bedroom?"

"Nah, I'll take care of it." Lorelai reached for Rory, pulling her daughter's dead weight into her arms. "C'mon, Hermione, time to sleep."

"No, wanna sort through the books," Rory murmured.

"Tomorrow," Lorelai soothed, steering Rory toward her room.

"Stop by in the morning?" Luke asked as Lorelai led Rory away.

She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. "Yeah. No groceries, remember? Going to need coffee."

"Since when haven't you needed it? Need I remind you want that stuff does to you?"

Lorelai laughed and pushed Rory into her bedroom so she could kiss Luke goodnight.

Rory was right. Bed was amazing.

There was nothing better than being in your own bed, especially after weeks of sleeping in beds that ranged from narrow dormitory bunks to the luxurious king-sized bed in Rome. That had been Lorelai's favorite bed for quite a number of reasons that may or may not include the persons she actually shared said bed with.

Lorelai turned onto her side, staring at the empty space next to her. She absently ran her hand over the mattress. The next stop after Rome where they were able to avoid staying in a dormitory was in Zurich, and Rory made her feelings on Luke and Lorelai absolutely clear when she promptly threw herself across one of the double beds in the room and ordered them to share the other bed.

Since then, there had been just a couple of nights when they hadn't shared the same bed, and Lorelai had gotten used to him being there. Before Luke, she never had a boyfriend that she slept with for more than two consecutive nights. She had gotten used to his large bulk, the way she tucked herself against him when she was cold, the whispered conversations while they waited for Rory to wake up, and the frantic lovemaking when Rory slipped out to get them breakfast and give them time alone.

But now they were home. She loved her large bed and being able to hog all the covers and blankets to her heart's content. She could sprawl as she pleased. She certainly wasn't missing Luke. Right? Right.

Lorelai closed her eyes and tried to relax. She should be asleep. Her body was screaming with exhaustion, and her body clock had been abandoned somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Breathe in. Out. Count sheep. OK, coffee cups. When that failed, she reached in her nightstand for her never-fail method of curing insomnia. Pleasurable and a guaranteed one-way trip into slumberland. She flicked on the small vibrator she pulled out and listened to the low whirl as it pulsed in her hand. With a sigh, she turned it off and tossed it back in the drawer.

Then she sat up and shoved her feet in slippers. "Rory!" she yelled.

By the time Lorelai got to the bottom of the stairs, Rory had come out of her room. "What's wrong?" Rory muttered, pushing her disheveled hair out of her face. "Bed good. Yelling bad."

"I've got to ask you a favor, kid. The hugest favor." Lorelai hopped from foot to foot a bit nervously Rory worried her lip, hoping she wouldn't have to spell it out.

"Couldn't we wait for morning to break the Guinness record for biggest pancake?"

"Definitely on the bucket list, but that's not it."

Rory sighed, then looked around the quiet house. "It's kind of weird, just the two of us, isn't it?" she observed. "It's like the last six weeks never happened."

"Good weird or bad weird?" Lorelai hedged.

Rory studied her closely, and Lorelai saw the moment her overly bright daughter drew the right conclusion. "Mom, go get him." Rory waved at the stairs. "The guy sleeping over at the house rule you have? Banished. Finito. Over and out. Just please go get Luke so I can go back to sleep. And buy me earplugs, because I really don't want to hear the two of you having sex."

"You are the best, kid." Lorelai kissed her forehead.

"Yeah, yeah. Bed." Rory stumbled back into her room and slammed the door for extra emphasis.

"Love you!" she yelled and ran back upstairs to exchange slippers for flip-flops.

He hated his single bed.

Luke stood over the much-maligned piece of furniture, arms crossed over his chest, angry because on one hand he couldn't sleep, and the next because his bed was entirely too small. It didn't make sense considering it was the same bed he'd had since he was a teenager, and the dormitory bunks in Europe were far smaller.

No, if he was really being honest, he was hating that he wasn't at the Crap Shack with Lorelai and Rory. Despite all the time they'd spent together, the no-guys-allowed-overnight rule at the Gilmore home hadn't been discussed. And, quite frankly, he wasn't going to be the one to do it. He didn't want to push Lorelai and Rory beyond what they were comfortable with. There had been enough men in their lives inflicting their will on them, and he wasn't going to be another one of those. He was patient. He had patience in abundance. He had been patient for seven years, and a wild risk had paid off in spades.

But now that he and Lorelai were starting down their middle together, that patience had run out. He wanted to be in her bed, wake up next to her, have her shampoo mix with his body wash, have her red sweater turn his undershirts pink in the wash. For the first time since Rachel, he was eager to see where life took him next.

Apparently, that road was going to lead him to a furniture store.

Luke glanced across the apartment, at Jess' side of the living space. He felt a pang of guilt. No, next on that road was to track down his nephew and see if he was doing OK in California.

He plopped down on the sofa and scooped up the remote. He tolerated a Jane Seymour informercial for some jewelry line for all of 30 seconds before turning it back off in disgust. He had even run out of Harry Potter to read, having finally caught up to Rory on the flight back from Europe. He promised her that he wouldn't start the fifth book without her, and thankfully they had such little time between flights that they couldn't be tempted by the airport bookstores.

He supposed he could go start inventory, see what he needed to get from his supplier to get the diner back up and running. It had been closed down for a week, after Luke insisted that Caesar take the time off with pay. He had entered the building from the back, immediately trudging up to his apartment, but something seemed a bit odd about the diner itself. Probably just the way the furniture was stacked, Luke reasoned, then wearily got back to his feet. He'd do inventory, go over the books, then push himself through a full day of work. That would get his body clock back in working order.

He pulled open the door, and Lorelai all but fell over the threshold. He grabbed her just in time to keep her from falling at his feet. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Lorelai said breathlessly, and he wondered if she had run all the way from the house.

Concerned, he led her inside. "Are you OK? Is Rory OK?"

Lorelai waved her hand. "Oh, dead to the world. As you saw, the kid can sleep anywhere. I, on the other hand, can't. Jet lag, you know."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." At any other time, his hormones would be doing a happy dance at Lorelai standing in his apartment wearing nothing but a thin tank and pajama pants with goldfish on them in the middle of the night. Now he just wanted to haul her over to his bed and sleep. With her in his arms, he could probably actually get some rest. Luke tossed a hateful look at his bed once again. Or one of them would fall out, hit their head on the nightstand, then they'd be spending what remained of the night at the hospital.

"I am here to tell you that it's your lucky day," Lorelai informed him, pulling his attention away from the myriad of ways he planned to burn that single bed.

"How's that?"

Lorelai's face lit up with a smile. "Rory and I have banished the guy rule. Unanimous proclamation."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. "I'm sorry, what?" Luke managed.

Lorelai grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly in both of hers. "Come home with me. Please. I mean, if you want to. You don't have to, but the option is there if you would like to, and I've gotten used to you-"

Go home. With her. To the Crap Shack. No more guy rule. His brain rapidly caught up with what Lorelai was telling him. "OK."

"OK?" Lorelai's voice was as hopeful as he felt.

Luke couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Yes."

"Good."

Lorelai kept Luke's hand in hers and led him home.

Thank you all for indulging in this "what if" tale! Because plotbunnies are a dangerous thing, the story for our intrepid trio in this now-AU storyline isn't finished. Stay tuned for "How to Train Your Dragonfly," an AU take on season 4.