Written for Meags09's Lorelai's Birthday Ficathon! Takes place between Afterboom and Luke Can See Her Face which, timeline-wise, would have been when Lorelai's birthday takes place in season four. This is an angst-free zone. Don't get used to it. ;)

He stood and stretched, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He couldn't recall how long it had been since he'd sat in this very spot, rolling the cylindrical grip between his hands, deep in thought.

At that very moment, the town of Stars Hollow was under the impression that Luke Danes had packed up and hit the local fishing hole following the finalization of his divorce.

In fact, he was still in Stars Hollow, at the old storage unit where he'd moved his woodworking tools following the sale of his deceased parents' house. The fishing hole catered to his need to escape Stars Hollow, take a breath of fresh air, and relax. The woodshop, however, was most often used to repair diner tables or shelving... except for the rare occasion where he'd been inspired to toy with his old woodcarving hobby. The inspiration, he found, seemed to coincide with major events in Lorelai's life.

Luke reached into his pocket, unearthing the cardstock he'd been handed earlier, and ran his thumb over the embossed Dragonfly Inn logo. He smiled to himself as he thought about Lorelai's growing giddiness over the last few weeks as the inn grew closer to its opening. He couldn't help but think he'd had some influence over the change in her demeanor. It was less that she'd been the recipient of a fair amount of his money, and more that the investment seemed to take a huge weight off her shoulders, returning his friend to her usual excited, self-assured state of being. The Lorelai Gilmore he knew and relied on before the stress of money and deadlines began to weigh her down was back.

Of course, the downside of the inn being so close to opening was that he'd been seeing a lot less of her. Gone were the days when she'd have time to sit in the diner with paperwork, laptop, and her phone, refilling her coffee as breakfast turned into lunch. He couldn't remember the last time she'd had a package delivered, or god forbid, someone had called there asking for her. He'd never thought he would miss being her message service, but Luke found he preferred it to being nothing more than her quick stop for coffee in the morning. He was growing tired of having to remind himself it wasn't possible to feel lonely in a diner full of people, and had almost managed to convince himself it was partly due to missing Nicole.

The problem with that theory was that he didn't actually miss Nicole.

In fact, during his time with Nicole, he'd often found himself missing Lorelai. He'd hoped the cruise, and a lengthy vacation from Stars Hollow, would allow him to focus on Nicole. She wasn't awful, and there were many things he genuinely liked about her. She wasn't like anyone he knew, and her sense of organization and laser focus had appealed to him at first.

Unfortunately, despite his intentions, the plan had backfired..

Shortly after the ship had disembarked, things had grown awkward. He knew Nicole sensed his doubts about their relationship and his decision to go on the cruise, but she hadn't been aware he'd been thinking about how much more enjoyable the trip would've been with someone else. Lorelai would probably join in some of the most ridiculous events, suck him in with her contagious glee, all while encouraging him to continue mocking it all, and before he knew it, he'd be having as much fun as she was. Instead, Nicole had specific itineraries and strict timelines, and when they weren't adhering to her schedule, she was remarking on every other couple on the ship, either harshly judging them or wistfully remarking on how great the other couples' relationships must be.

Toward the end of the trip, his annoyance with Nicole turned into guilt, and guilt turned into an impromptu marriage ceremony.

All in all, divorced or not, the time with Nicole hadn't been all terrible. And he'd at least learned he didn't hate cruises. But such lengthy excursions weren't something you could share with just anyone.

He flipped the pencil in his hand a few times, walking the perimeter of the woodshop to restore circulation to his legs. Finally, he paused in front of the large piece of wood he'd spent the morning bent over, sketching out his plan. Rubbing his hand over the unfinished wood, he recalled the last time he'd spent long hours in the old storage room.

Eye level from where he stood, still pinned to the wall, was the page he'd torn out of a magazine, sketches from his order pad in the diner accompanying it. He'd never admit to Lorelai that the initial inspiration for the chuppah was significantly less detailed than what she'd found him unloading onto her front lawn. He did, after all, have a reputation to protect, even to her.

Perhaps even more to her. She'd seen him at some pretty rough moments over the last few years, enough to poke holes in his unaffected, grumpy façade.

If the Nicole debacle wasn't bad enough, there was the day he'd found himself caught in a spiral of self-loathing. He'd wandered over to Lorelai's that day under the guise of fixing her broken window. Though he couldn't recall what Lorelai had said following his drunken babbling, he remembered her offering him the couch to sleep off the effects of the alcohol (and a brief moment where he'd almost asked her to join him).

But it wasn't the couch, his stunted thought processes, or her concerned expression that stuck with him that day.

What had really snapped him out of his moping fit began when he'd awakened to discover the Barbie bandages. His wounded palm covered in pink was enough to send him into a laughing fit. The laughing fit had, of course, sent a concerned Babette over. The nap had sobered him up, the laughing had lifted his spirits, but it was Babette's tale of Lorelai shouting at Jess in the town square on his behalf that truly drew him out of his misery.

Jess had certainly had it coming, especially from Lorelai, but more than that, it was a nice reminder that Lorelai always had his back. Of course, it made sense that he'd gone to her house seeking someone to pull him out of his dark mood.

It was Lorelai that had held his hand through the mess that had been Uncle Louie's death years before, letting him rant, and running the diner for him. He'd never forgotten the reassuring squeeze of her hand as the war re-enactors fulfilled his father's wishes.

For as many things as they'd seen each other through over the years, it was high time they had something to mutually celebrate. Monetary investor or not, he'd already been mentally and emotionally invested in the Dragonfly Inn long before it had a name or location. Having had a backseat to every bit of work Lorelai had put into it, he was eager to show her in his own way just how proud of her he was for seeing her dream come to fruition.

And so Luke found himself in his makeshift wood shop, once again, preparing to create a gift by hand. A gift that, with any luck, would be just as integral to the Dragonfly as the chuppah had been to her front lawn.

And just in time for her birthday.

Lorelai sighed with annoyance as she waited for the light to change. In typical Stars Hollow fashion, even without the tiniest bit of cross traffic, the light remained red. She tapped her fingers on the wheel impatiently as she thought back to her interaction with Cesar an hour earlier.

"The fishing hole," Cesar had said with a nod of assurance.

He'd put on a good act.

If only he hadn't looked to the left.

If only she hadn't got caught up in an evening of a Law & Order marathon the evening following her breakup with Jason. She had little regrets about the breakup with Jason, but wasn't thrilled to find herself single again, and Jesse Martin was exactly what a newly single woman needed. And in his beautiful way, he'd explained that when someone was lying, they'd look up and slightly to the left.

And Cesar had done that very thing, indicating that Luke was not at the fishing hole, after all. At first, she'd been grateful for the discovery. The fishing hole wasn't exactly in town, and knowing Luke didn't always camp on the water, she had no interest hiking around the woods to hunt down her missing friend.

The downside of Luke not being at the fishing hole, however, was realizing that she wasn't exactly sure where Luke was. Knowing him, she doubted he'd gone far. Even so, it had sent her driving up and down streets in Stars Hollow she hadn't explored in years.

She had no real reason to seek him out, and there was no reason she couldn't wait until he returned. A free afternoon away from the Dragonfly would be best spent pampering herself. But her time at the diner had not only been rare, she'd barely even had time to swing by for a quick cup of coffee in the mornings before heading to the inn.

She missed the time she was able to use Luke's as a remote office, sitting with notebooks and contracts, catalogues, and photo spreads as she planned the final stages of the Dragonfly. Though Luke grumbled about her frequent visits, she knew he enjoyed her presence as they shared smiles over the daily goings-on at the diner: Kirk's odd requests, Patty and Babette's dirty jokes and endless gossip, Ed sniffling over his latest argument with his wife. It was far better than working in solitude, and she'd learned a few things about Luke during the quiet hours between the breakfast and lunch rushes.

She'd discovered he'd actually enjoyed the cruise with Nicole more than he'd first let on. She imagined Luke standing on the deck of a ship, hands on his hips as he stared out across the water, muttering about how terrible cruise ships were for the environment all while pretending he hadn't enjoyed the previous night's midnight buffet. Afterall, they had to have salad bars on cruise ships, and she doubted even a hungry Luke could say no to all-you-can-eat rabbit food.

As amusing as the idea was, she'd banished the seafaring visions from her head as quickly as they'd appeared. As much fun as she might have with Luke on a cruise, or any trip, after his disastrous marriage, he wasn't likely to board a boat again any time soon.

The light changed and Lorelai smirked as she saw the unmistakeable green truck parked just inside the old U-Stor-It.

It had been years since she'd been there. Shortly after Lorelai had bought her house, Mia had handed her the keys and given her directions to a storage unit. Taped to an old dusty chair was a note instructing Mia's surrogate daughter to help thin out the ancient inventory by taking as many pieces home with her as she wanted. She'd nearly refused until her eyes landed on the headboard that became Rory's bed. She'd still taken far less than Mia had intended saving Rory from living in a completely empty house for months.

Without Mia in their lives, Lorelai wasn't sure where she and Rory would have ended up. But she knew for a fact she would have never dreamt of opening her own inn. And as the Dragonfly Inn grew closer to its opening, the free moments she had were often spent reflecting on those responsible for its existence. It began the day Mia pointed out Lorelai had been practically running the Independence Inn on her own for a year or so. Then, Rory's emphatic encouragement to finish her degree had been an important step. She'd never forget the day the jokes she and Sookie had been sharing for years about the silly things they'd have at their own inn suddenly took a serious turn.

And then there was Luke.

He was there during the worst of it: a complete and utter meltdown in the town square, and the admission of needing thirty thousand dollars. She couldn't remember everything that poured out of her that night, but it wasn't likely she'd ever forget the warmth of Luke's hand as he held her and steadied her until there were no more words and no more tears. Even after assuring him she was fine to drive home, he'd kept his arm around her shoulders as he escorted her to her jeep. For someone who claimed to not handle emotions well, Luke hadn't seemed at all phased by her outburst, or her informal request to borrow money.

She hadn't expected it to all come to a head the way it had. Her plan that night had been to show up at Luke's in time to cancel their dinner plans, down a few cups of coffee to get her head on straight again, and go home to mull over the inn's finances one more time.

But the combination of Luke's eagerness, the huge request she was about to make of him, and the evening at her parents' house had been overwhelming. Over the years, whether or not she'd been conscious of it, when she'd hit the lowest of lows, it was always Luke whose company she sought out to lift her spirits.

After parking at the storage facility, she stared across the near-empty parking lot at Luke's truck, recalling the first night she'd relied on him for more than just food or household repairs. Rory's voicemail had informed her of her father's heart attack, and Luke hadn't thought twice before rushing her out of the diner and into his truck.

For all the times he'd been there for her, whether it was coffee, his adorably snarky demeanor, or thirty thousand dollars, she was looking forward to showing him how grateful she was for all of his support. To truly do that, she'd need to successfully open the inn. Until then, she had a smaller gift to bestow upon him as a token of gratitude.

Lorelai exited the jeep and reached over to the passenger's seat for the wrapped box, biting back a giggle. She had an entire speech planned about toasting to the final countdown to the opening of the Dragonfly Inn.

Luke frowned as he, for the third time, saw the shadow move through the partly opened blinds of the storage unit turned wood shop. He halted the router and slid off his ear protectors, listening for an indication of who might be walking around the storage unit. By early evening, the old storage facility was usually vacant; if someone was walking around, passing by the same units over and over, they were most likely casing the place. He heard the clicking of heels and cocked his head at the familiar rhythm.

He knew that gait.

He quickly pulled off his safety glasses, and threw an old tarp over his project and machinery. Before he could make his exit and ask his visitor what she needed, the door flew open, blowing sawdust and scattering discarded sketches across the room.

"Hey-"

"What are you doing here?" Luke asked, his tone more irritated than he intended. As he spoke, he glanced quickly around the room, making sure none of the drawings gave away his plans.

"What are you doing here?" she returned. "I've been driving around Stars Hollow for an hour trying to find you, and your cell phone's going straight to voicemail. You need to charge those things sometimes, you know."

"I threw out my pho-"

"Where are we, anyway? This clearly isn't being used for storage," Lorelai interrupted, nodding to the sawdust and piles of scrap wood littering the room.

Luke sighed, and gestured to the nearby workbench, praying she wouldn't turn around and see the chuppah plans still tacked to the wall. He thought about tearing them down before she noticed, but she'd only taken a disinterested glance at his workbench and was already looking in his direction again.

"It's my wood shop."

"I didn't know you had a wood shop."

"I have a wood shop."

"I see that." Lorelai grinned and hefted the box in her hands before placing it on the workbench. "I come bearing gift."

"Isn't the phrase 'I come bearing gifts?'"

"Yes, but I have a gift, not multiple gifts, hence gift. Just open it."

Luke chuckled at the box's wrapping, recognizing the Stars Hollow Gazette's familiar header. He glanced up at Lorelai to find her smiling widely back.

"Well, it was either this or Finding Nemo wrapping paper, and while you do remind me of Marlin, I figured you wouldn't-"

"Who?"

"-I figured you wouldn't get the reference, so the Stars Hollow Gazette it is. Would you just open it already?"

Smirking, Luke removed the paper and reached for one of his carving tools nearby to break through the tape. He pulled open the flaps to find an old toaster oven, though shinier and in better condition than his current one. He cocked his head, laughing slightly in confusion, and glanced over at Lorelai for the explanation he knew would be forthcoming.

Lorelai's attention, however, was no longer on him, but rather on one of the two places he'd been hoping she'd avoid. He cringed as he stared at her back.

"Luke..." she said softly, as she walked closer to the chuppah idea wall to get a better look. Her fingers traced the cutout from the magazine, then drifted down to the sketches he'd made: a few of the animals and foliage. "You... I thought you said you got the idea from a magazine. You drew most of this."

"It was from the magazine."

"Not the details."

Luke shrugged. "It's no big deal, I used to do whittling and stuff when I was younger, it-"

"No big deal?! Luke, this isn't some copy of a photo in a magazine, you designed the-"

"Toaster oven?" Luke cut her off, hoping to derail her. It worked.

"What?" Lorelai turned, the expression on her face still one of awe despite the confusion in her eyes as she regarded him.

"It's a toaster oven."

"Oh, uh. For toast, because..." Lorelai shook her head in an attempt to clear it. The chuppah may have started out as something for her wedding to Max, but she didn't think much about its origins. The piece had added something to her yard she hadn't realized was missing. She kept it decorated for the seasons, lilacs draping over it in spring, Christmas lights in winter. Luke, himself, even helped with its upkeep, weatherproofing it and keeping Gilbert in good health. And not only was it beautiful, it drew visitors' eyes up from the often overgrown lawn. Luke had made it by hand, mostly with ideas from his own head, a piece of art, and all he could talk about was the toaster oven?

"Because...?"

"Um, your toaster. It's always breaking? Every few months, I come in there, and you're either working on a toaster, or you've bought another used one, and the latest new used one was a toaster oven this time instead of a regular toaster, and even that sure didn't last..." she sighed. "And something about toasting to the last few days before we open, but I completely forgot the speech I'd planned."

"Thanks," Luke replied, chuckling. "We, uh, had to throw out the toaster oven, so we've been using the broiler which has about a fifty-fifty chance of burning the toast if Cesar's not paying close enough attention. I was going to pick one up on my way home today. This one's pretty nice."

"It's older, but fully restored; I know you like that vintage feel. There's a paper in there with a warranty, you can take it to a guy in Southbury, Rob or Bob or something, if anything goes bad with it. He said not to just shove screwdrivers in it the way you usually do, he replaced the innards himself and can fix just about anything," Lorelai was rambling, her gaze focusing on every detail of the wood shop until it landed on the tarp-covered router.

"Don't," Luke warned as her hand reached for the covering. "Expensive machinery and it's still hot, I was just finishing up for the night, don't touch it."

Lorelai held both hands up in surrender, temporarily distracted from the chuppah. "What is it you're working on? Patty said you were licking your wounds after Nicole served you with divorce papers, but you and I both know she got that story wrong, probably Kirk's fault, and you haven't seemed very upset about it after the fact. And why is Cesar telling everyone you're fishing?"

Luke sighed and rolled his eyes, "Can't a guy just leave town, take a day off, and mess around in his wood shop?"

"Storage unit, and yes, but you didn't leave town, and I didn't even know you had a wood shop."

"How did you think I made the chuppah in the first place?"

"I always wondered," she mused, her expression softening again, "I still can't believe-"

Luke shrugged awkwardly, wondering how he was going to explain his latest creation in a few days. "It's really not as big a deal as you're making it."

"Maybe to you. But you always play down your role in things, even-"

"It's getting late, let's get outta here."

Lorelai pursed her lips at the interruption, turning to stare at the wall of chuppah drawings and ideas one last time, shaking her head in awe. For someone who put up such a tough exterior, Luke had a deeply hidden sentimental streak a mile long. As she watched him unplug machinery and gather the few things he was bringing home with him, she wondered what other secrets he'd kept hidden over the years.

They made their way to the parking lot, each lost in thought.

Lorelai paused after opening her door, and turned to Luke before getting in.

"What I wanted to say, before... after the Dragonfly's grand opening, we'll have a real toast. I'll get a bottle of champagne and we'll officially toast to my new inn. I just wanted to make sure you knew how grateful I am for everything you've done, so for now... you can make toast."

"It's okay, I don't like cham-" Luke paused, cut off by her car door slamming shut. She smiled broadly at him and waved before driving off. He smiled back as he watched her go, then headed home as well, his hand resting on his new toaster oven.

A few days later...

"Shirt. Underwear. Bra. Pants," Lorelai mumbled to herself as she stood in what would eventually be her office at the Dragonfly Inn. A quick pat to her pocket confirmed she hadn't forgotten her phone. Continuing her inventory, she noted her planner and notebook were stuffed in her purse in the corner.

Something was missing, and she couldn't seem to sort out what it was.

She pulled out her notebook and added a line of question marks to item number seventy-five.

Earlier in the week, Lorelai had begun a list of decor that seemed to be missing, was unfinished, or had been forgotten about. This had inspired several trips to Kim's Antiques to check for newly acquired merchandise. This, naturally, had not gone over well with the store's proprietor, and Mrs. Kim had grown so irritated with Lorelai's indecisiveness, she demanded her next shopping spree include a purchase or she wasn't allowed back in. Despite wanting another look at the door knockers she'd unearthed, Lorelai determined it was best to heed Mrs. Kim's advice. Hopefully, her memory of the items would be enough if and when she decided she wanted them.

Suddenly realizing they might be worth another look, she began looking for the pen she'd just had moments ago to add it to the list. Finding it behind her ear, she rolled her eyes, and began to write, only to be interrupted by the chirping of her cell phone.

"Ugh, Rory, I texted that I'd call you back later," Lorelai grumbled, silencing her phone for what seemed like the fiftieth time. On any other day, she'd welcome a phone call from her daughter for any reason, but there was a stack of unlabeled boxes in the lobby, and if one box didn't contain the curtains for the two rooms missing their window coverings, whoever had reorganized the boxes was going to be regret it.

Of course, she was fairly certain she was the one who'd reorganized things the previous night, her body's confusion between exhaustion and excessive caffeine turning her into a tornado of temporary insanity. Worried how many things she might have reorganized, Lorelai began making her way back to the lobby.

"Lorelai, why is there a stack of artwork in my stock pot?" Sookie asked, her face concerned as she attempted to follow Lorelai through the inn, the stock pot in question situated awkwardly on her hip. Between Lorelai's faster pace and mutterings to herself, she was failing to get her friend's attention. Finally, she gave up and shouted, "Lorelai Gilmore! SLOW DOWN A MINUTE!"

"Hey, I can hear you."

"Really? Because I asked you three times!" Sookie waved an old portrait in the air. "Artwork! In my stockpot! Why?"

"Oh, I left that in there by accident. That needs to go in the lobby. Oh, hey, I was looking for that picture."

Lorelai reached for the stock pot, and Sookie took an annoyed step backward.

"Stockpot goes in the kitchen, artwork-" Sookie handed the stack of frames to Lorelai, adjusting her grip on the large pot, "-goes in the lobby."

"Right, thanks."

"Are you okay?"

"Just busy. There's five hundred things to do today alone, and-"

"There's always tomorrow."

"You say that, and then you run out of tomorrows."

"But Lorelai-"

"Lorelai!" Michel shouted, calling from the front desk. "An angry man on the phone, maybe a plumber?"

"A plumber?" Lorelai frowned, abandoning her conversation with Sookie to walk into the reception area. "I didn't call a plumber?"

"Maybe a lumberjack? Perhaps a hunter."

Lorelai glared at Michel as she took the phone. "Luke?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. "I was calling to-"

"Please tell me it's not about the brochures."

"The bro-"

"Nevermind!" Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the box of brochures she'd ordered months ago. Originally, she'd had them shipped to Luke's since she was there more than the inn, and any deliveries to the inn were likely to be lost, misplaced, or damaged due to the amount of construction occurring. She'd promised not to have anything else sent there, but couldn't recall if she'd updated the address for the delayed brochures.

"Are you working today?" he asked.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Yes."

"Lorelai?"

"What?" Lorelai replied, frowning as she began opening boxes in the lobby. "Ugh, no curtains."

"Curtains?"

"Luke, can I call you back in... two days?"

"Two days?"

"Or can we talk about my work schedule when I get coffee tomorrow morning?"

"So you're working today."

"I said I was," Lorelai growled, exasperated.

"Okay, I thought you meant yes, you were going to answer my... let's try this, instead of grabbing lunch at the diner today, meet me at the storage unit."

"Lunch? I was just going to have Tom's guys pick me up something when they go, I don't really have time- hey!" Lorelai cried as Sookie ripped the cordless phone from her grasp.

"Thirty minutes. Probably no more, but certainly no less. Heavy on the protein, and bring her a coffee, our supply hasn't arrived yet." Sookie handed Lorelai the phone back before Luke could reply, making a hasty retreat before Lorelai could react.

"What time?" Lorelai let out a defeated sigh, kicking the curtain-less box across the lobby as she did so.

"One thirty at the storage unit," Luke replied, and quickly hung up before she changed her mind.

"Tom, have I ever not paid you?" Luke growled into the phone. "Exactly. On time, and in cash. Nothing's changing. Thank you."

With that, Luke bolted down the stairs to the diner, barely stopping as Cesar handed off a bag of take-out and a coffee cup. He wasn't running late, but was cutting his timing very close thanks to the brief argument with Tom. While Lorelai was usually the queen of tardiness, with the opening of the inn at the forefront of her mind, she'd been frighteningly punctual lately. Then again, after his phone conversation with her earlier, he couldn't be sure. He'd expected to be drilled about whether their meeting was related to her birthday, but instead was barely able to get her out of the inn.

He sighed with relief as he pulled into his usual parking spot at the U-Stor-It storage facility. There was no sign of the familiar tan jeep, and he still had five minutes to spare, giving him time to make sure everything was in place.

At precisely 1:29pm, the whirlwind that was Lorelai Gilmore blew in. Luke couldn't help but laugh as her fiercely determined expression gave way to pure shock. She dropped her head into her palm with a groan.

"Twenty missed calls from my daughter, five voicemails, and I figured she needed a break from studying. Who forgets their own birthday?!"

"Someone on the verge of opening Stars Hollow's first inn since the Independence burned down?" Luke handed her the coffee Sookie demanded. "Also someone who's used to her daughter beginning the festivities from the time she wakes up."

"Yeah, let's blame Rory," Lorelai muttered, taking a deep breath of the coffee's steam before enjoying sampling it. "God, I needed this. I know Sookie has beans hidden in the kitchen, I just have found where yet."

"Take a break more often, and there's plenty more where that came from."

"Riiiiight." Lorelai nodded to the large boxes situated on the workbench. "So, uh, what'd ya get me?"

"First, a toast." Smirking, he opened the first take-out box and handed Lorelai half a piece of toasted sourdough, taking the other for himself. He raised his piece. "To your birthday."

"To my forgotten birthday," Lorelai replied with an eyeroll, taking a bite. She had the rest devoured before Luke had taken a third bite, "And to your toaster oven, which does not disappoint. That was an excellent toast, Luke."

"The lack of speech, or the bread?"

"The succinct speech, and the result of your new toaster oven." She dusted the crumbs from her hands and held them out expectantly. "Okay, hand 'em over."

"Uh, they're a little heavy, you're gonna have to come to them."

Having discovered she was celebrating a birthday, Lorelai was suddenly very eager to see what items would require such large boxes. She stepped in front of the workbench and slid a fingernail through the neatly wrapped gift. After lifting the top off the cardboard box, her eyes widened as she saw her logo peeking through the tissue paper.

With a gasp, she uncovered it, and stared in awe.

In front of her was a white wooden sign, with two silver chains attached at the top. The corners were decorated with carved wooden foliage, and right in the center was "Dragonfly Inn". The detail of each letter matched her logo perfectly, but seeing it so much larger was stunning. She was particularly fond of the lavender paint on the dragonfly, a a nice touch she'd have to remember for future reprints of her brochures.

"Luke, this is beautiful. Incredible. I don't know what else to say, I can't-"

Luke shrugged. "I'd say, maybe open the next one."

Not one to argue about opening presents, Lorelai moved back slightly as Luke moved the box out of the way, giving her access to the larger item beneath it. Too big for a box, the next gift was revealed as she tore away the wrapping paper.

Lorelai gaped, stunned to silence, uncertain what to react to first: shock that Luke had managed to abscond with the wooden panel of her front desk area without her noticing, or delight that he'd made it into something far superior to what she'd imagined.

"It's for the-"

"Keys," she finished, touching up one of the simple wood pieces with cup hooks, her eyes still glued to the intricately hewn logo. The foliage matched the design on the sign for the outside of the inn, and the letters of the logo were slightly thicker. Combined with the overhead light, it would cast a perfect shadow, emphasizing the words.

She slowly sat on the nearby stool as she took in every facet of her gifts.

"The money was more than enough," she said quietly.

"The money was money, this is... I don't know, you needed a sign, and you'd said you hadn't gotten around to it yet, and once that was done, I figured..." Luke gestured to the panel. "So. You, uh, like it?"

Finally able to to pull her gaze from Luke's careful woodworking, she looked up to meet his eyes, barely managing to keep the tears from spilling over. "How do you do it?"

"Well, some of it I did by hand, but I used the router for-"

Lorelai laughed, "No, not the... I mean, someday you're gonna have to walk me through exactly how you manage to do things like this, but for now I just don't know how you always manage to make things so much better."

"It's just wood."

"It's not the wood, Luke. One year, it was fixing a few loose boards in my floor, bringing my shower back to life, finding a replacement washing machine, which I'm pretty sure I didn't pay you for."

"It was your birthday present."

"In July?"

"It was hot and I was thinking of you and Rory sitting in that stuffy, old laundromat. Besides, it was old and used, and I wasn't expecting anything back from it. Besides, I owed you, I didn't really fix your shower that year, I just readjusted a few things."

Lorelai cocked her head, giving him a small smile. There was no point in trying to get Luke to see her point. He was too focused on the practicality of it all to understand where she was coming from. Such was Luke.

"Regardless, thank you. I think I've said that to you more this year than ever before. You're an artist." Before he could reply, Lorelai held up her hand to stop him, then rested it on his shoulder as she stood. Her lips lightly touched his stubbled cheek and she stepped back with a smile. "Thank you for the gifts, Luke, they're beautiful. Now, this is where you say two words, and two words only, and you don't try to tell me it wasn't a big deal. Because it was, and you knew it would be, otherwise you wouldn't have spent so many late nights here."

"How did you-"

"Two words, Luke. Come on, I know you have them somewhere in that head of yours."

"You're welcome, Lorelai." Luke replied warmly, his right hand twitching as he focused on keeping it from touching his cheek. Lorelai was, afterall, a friend, and he was pretty sure she had a boyfriend, though she had yet to mention anyone. He put the hand to use, picking up the takeout bag. "I know you need to get back, so you can go ahead and leave these here, Tom will install them for you in a few days. Your lunch and some birthday pie is in there."

"What's in birthday pie?"

"Guess you'll have to find out."

She gave him one of her dazzling smiles and squeezed his hand before taking the bag.

"For a birthday I completely forgot about, it turned out to be a pretty damn good one."

"You're welcome," Luke replied with a smirk.

"It learns," Lorelai squealed happily before turning on her heel and leaving.

Luke sat on the stool and crossed his arms in front of him, pleased with how the afternoon had gone. He stared at the coffee cup she'd left behind, and couldn't keep from smiling as he overheard her make a phone call.

"Rory, I know, I know, I forgot my own freaking birthday, but wait, let me tell you what Luke did this year!"

"Whose phone calls or visits are never unwanted or too long? Do you see her face? Who would you most like to have in your life to ward off moments of loneliness? Do you see her face? When you travel, who would make your travels more enjoyable? Do you see her face? When you're in pain, who would you most like to comfort you? Do you see her face? When something wonderful happens in your life - a promotion at work, a successful refinancing - who do you want to share the news with? Do you see her face? Whose face appears to you, my friend? Whose face?"

Thanks to the BFF for the initial inspiration that kicked this off, and to Meags for the beta work; you fix my weird wordos, and you get me. You poor thing! ;)