A DeepFried Note: This takes place between Seasons 2 and 3. Luke and Lorelai have made peace after the "Go-to-hell-right-back-atcha" fight, but I'm not following the series exactly. For one thing, in my world Lorelai isn't nearly as hurt by the Christopher/Sherry thing. In this first part of the story the action shifts back and forth between the day after and the night before. (I can sense your interest perking up. "The day after what?" you're asking, aren't you?) Cotton Candy is another of my early stories, and even though I've edited it some, I know it could use a lot more! For those of you who have read it before, I've cut it into two parts because it was awfully long. For some reason it seems to have become a favorite with readers - maybe because it's somewhat spicier than the stories I normally spin. I'm looking forward to seeing how a new audience views it. Thanks for reading!

Lorelai Gilmore walked straight down the center of the 7th floor hallway of the downtown Hyatt in Hartford, her head held high, carrying her black stiletto heels in her hands. It was a quarter to eight on a Sunday morning in August. She was carrying her heels so that she could run the gauntlet of housecleaning staff as quickly as possible while she made her escape to the elevator at the end of the hall. She knew far too well from her own days as a maid what was being whispered about her. She could feel the critical eyes taking in her ridiculous hot-pink strapless dress and her messy hair jammed carelessly into a ponytail. She could sense the knowing smirks at her raccoon eyes leftover from last night's makeup.

It's not the way it looks, she wanted to explain. I didn't look cheap and trashy last night. Last night I had on a cute black sweater. And underwear. I just don't know where they are right now.

She squared her shoulders with even more determination and sprinted to the bank of elevators. She tried to look on the bright side. She had her purse, her cell, her keys. In ten minutes she'd be in the Jeep, heading home to her kid, her house, her town. Her sanity.

Please, please, please, she thought, pushing the down button urgently. Please let my sanity be there somewhere.

She leaned over to tug on her shoes as she waited for the elevator door to open.

"Don't take off your shoes yet,"she heard him whisper to her, his voice raw with the desire that had gripped them both.

"Oh, God!" she gasped, whipping around, convinced that he was right behind her just as he had been last night. She knew she'd left him sound asleep in the room down the hall not five minutes before, but she swore she could feel his breath on her neck, his hands caressing her skin from her bra to her hips.

The elevator door opened and she tumbled inside, pressing the lobby button frantically.

She looked at the shiny brass walls of the elevator.

Last night. The elevator. Pushed up against the shiny walls. Laughing. His hands impatiently pulling down her zipper…

"Oh, God," she moaned again, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

The elevator opened at the lobby and Lorelai jumped out, dashing across the elegantly-appointed entry, ignoring the happy families heading to brunch and the proper elderly couples in their church outfits. She just needed to make it out the door. She glanced at the registration desk, wondering if she should have offered to pay for half of the room.

Get out, she told herself. Just. Get. OUT!

She pushed through the revolving door out into the already-warming, humid August morning, gulping down a huge breath of it into her lungs, trying to calm herself with the normality of it all.

Quickly she found her Jeep in the parking lot and with minimal fumbling she got it unlocked and climbed inside. The interior was already heating up, and her thin dress did little to protect her bare bottom from the warmth of the seat. She did nothing for a few minutes but grasp the steering wheel and breathe rapidly, thankful that her escape was now over.

She roused herself and moved to put the key into the ignition, but her fingers were shaking and the keys clattered to the floorboard, and when she bent over to retrieve them she let her head rest against the steering wheel and she let her mind go to the one thing that was unnerving her more than anything else from the night before.

Well, technically, it was no longer night, as it happened around three in the morning. The effects of the massive amount of booze she'd consumed had all worn off. She'd totally lost track by then of how many times he'd pushed her over the top of Mt. Pleasure. She was above him, looking down into his gorgeous face, drinking in his eyes that were shining up at her, offering her things she could only guess at.

She'd looked at him then, her mouth had opened, and words had popped out. She'd had no control of them. It was like she was a Pez dispenser. Once her mouth had opened the words were there, pushing up from her heart, and she had been helpless to stop them.

"I love you," she'd told him, breathlessly, sincerely.

She winced now in the Jeep, letting her forehead thump gently against the steering wheel. She knew she couldn't play them off as some sort of a drunken 'Hey, I love you, man,' sort of thing. And she wasn't the type to just go around and say those words randomly. That's why she was so freaked out by them. She'd never said them before―at least not to a guy.

She was supposed to say those words to Max. After all, he'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes, which implied those words, right? But somehow her quick tongue had managed to keep those particular three words at bay and she'd somehow managed to substitute enough other phrases to keep him satisfied. Finally she'd had her epiphany and called the wedding off.

She'd imagined saying the words to Christopher for a large portion of her life. She'd imagined it when she found out she was pregnant. She imagined it on the day Rory was born. She'd daydreamed about it for years. One day everything would be right and perfect, and she'd say those words to him. But the funny thing was, that day had apparently come and she'd had no desire to say the words after all because they weren't true. He was with Sherry now and that fact no longer hurt. There had been stinging anger over his actions, and fury at herself for getting sucked into his daydreams again, but much to her surprise it hadn't devastated her at all.

So those words had evaded her until last night when they felt the need to spring out of her during what was essentially a one-night stand.

She groaned, slapping her hand over her eyes in mortification. Maybe he wouldn't remember. Maybe the alcohol fog had still been in effect for him. He'd heard her at the time, that much was clear in the way he'd pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her over and over. He'd heard, but maybe he wouldn't remember. She pinned her hopes on that.

Sighing, she started the car. She needed to get home. She needed to see Rory. She needed a shower and to get out of this joke of a dress. She needed underwear. She needed to get her head together so she could face her daughter.

Rory could never, never know. People thought the two of them had no boundaries, but they were wrong. Last night she'd crossed a line, a huge, freakin' line, and she'd give up Mallomars forever before she ever let Rory know the truth of it.

Focus, Lorelai, she told herself, as she started the drive back to Stars Hollow. Don't lose it now. Come up with a plan.

A plan to hold herself together so could face Sookie, Miss Patty and Babette, Luke.

Oh God! She actually whimpered out loud. Luke! How the hell could she face Luke after what she'd done?

She didn't have a clue, but she had a 45-minute drive to come up with a plan.

The day had been going far too well. The guests at the Independence Inn had been far too pleasant, too easily charmed by the décor of the building and the personality of the hostess. Children accompanying their parents were too easily distracted by the pond and volleyball court outside. The chef had accepted her new husband's vegetable offerings eagerly and had planned a menu around them without incident. And most telling of how freakishly nice the day was, Lorelai and Michel stood at the front desk, giggling while playing a naughty version of 'Hangman' in French.

Their game was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Michel answered it without any threats from Lorelai, his voice charming and warm.

"Independenze Inn! How may we help you?" he purred into the phone. "Oh, yes, of course!" he said eagerly after listening for a moment. "She is right here! Let me transfer you."

He held the phone out to Lorelai with a huge smile, and she took it from him with a smile of her own and a little shake of her head. 'Charming Michel' was a rare treat.

"This is Lorelai," she said into the phone, still smiling at him, just as he whispered to her, "It's your muth-thar."

Her mouth opened in shock as she watched the satisfied smirk settle over Michel's face. She wanted to rip his lavender tie off and stuff it down his throat, but revenge would have to wait.

"Lorelai, it's your mother." Emily was speaking rapidly. "You owe me, and I expect you to do this for me without any of your usual excuses. This is one of the times when you need your family to rally around, and I will not brook any form of rebellion from you. Do I make myself clear? I don't care what sort of insipid festival is going on in your little storybook village, or how many cats died this week, or how many little Korean girls have Bible-verse reciting contests. You will be here tonight, for me, your mother!"

"Geez, Mom, take a breath!" Lorelai commanded, trying not to recognize her own language pattern in Emily's tirade. "What's the emergency?"

"You will be at the Hyatt tonight at 7:30," Emily continued. "You will dress appropriately, and you will be there, because you owe me!"

"I owe you?" Lorelai scoffed.

"Yes!" Emily said eagerly. "Last April, you had finals, and I let you miss a Friday night dinner so you could go meet with your study group. At the time you said, 'I'll owe you one, Mom,' and tonight's the night you owe me. I'm calling in your marker, Lorelai."

"My marker?" This was turning into one of the more bizarre conversations she'd had with her mother, and that was saying something. "Have you been watching World Championship Poker on ESPN or something, Mom? What's going on?"

Emily sighed deeply. "If you must know, it's Lydia Charleston. The woman is insufferable. No one ever wants to serve on a committee with her, because the woman is incapable of rational thought. Back when Rory first started Chilton, I agreed to work with her, however, because I thought it would be advantageous to build up some goodwill…"

"Wait, wait!" Lorelai was trying to piece things together. "This is Headmaster Charleston's wife?"

"No, no, no! Bitty Charleston is a delight! No," and here Emily sighed again, "Lydia is his sister. And I know Rory doesn't need my help any longer to secure her place at Chilton, but at the time I signed up to help Lydia with this fundraiser, I really thought I was being farsighted. But the whole thing's been a disaster from start to finish. She has no sense of design, no idea of propriety, no common sense, no inkling whatsoever of what goes into making a successful evening, and no friends to come to the damn thing at all!" Emily's tone was reaching into hysteria by the end of the sentence.

Lorelai was silent for a moment, listening to her mother's rapid breathing. "So, what do you need me to do?" she asked cautiously.

"I need you there tonight. I need bodies to fill the tables. So help me, Lorelai, you will do this for me. You will be there, in one of those seats, in a dress minus any rhinestones over your chest spelling out something inappropriate."

Lorelai squeezed her eyes shut, saying goodbye to her vision of tonight which included several containers of Ben and Jerry's and a marathon viewing of Project Runway. "Mom, I…"

"Lorelai!" Emily thundered. "I don't care what I have to do to get you there! I will hire Michel to hogtie you and throw you in a car and bring you there! I will give your naked baby pictures to your diner man!" She paused momentarily and swiftly reconsidered. "Or would it be better if I gave Michel the pictures and hired the iceman to tie you up?"

"Mom!" Lorelai gasped, truly shocked both at her mother's implication and at the thrill that shot through her at the thought of it.

"On second thought," Emily continued, "bring him along. He's got a suit, right? He'd fill one more seat. In fact, bring along anyone you find beside the road. Hitchhikers. Serial killers. Oh, this night is going to be such a disaster," she moaned.

"Mom, I think it's kind of late to get anyone else to come," Lorelai said, beating back into the far reaches of her mind the image of Luke in a suit, a boyish grin on his face and a rope in his hands, "but I'll be there."

Emily sucked in an abrupt breath along with all of the other threats she was preparing to voice. "Thank you, Lorelai," she said, subdued.

"So, what's this shindig for?"

One more huge sigh. "Migratory songbirds."

Lorelai made a very unladylike snort of laughter. "Mom, seriously? That's the cause? I'm missing Project Runway for songbirds?"

"I'll have you know, it's a very real concern," Emily huffed. "Their habitats are being destroyed, and cell phone towers are interfering with their migratory pattern, and…Oh, what's the use?" she grumbled. "Yes, the whole evening's ridiculous, but you will be there!"

"See you at 7:30," she agreed.

"Dressed appropriately!" Emily reminded her one more time.

Lorelai replaced the receiver into the cradle, her thoughts jumping back and forth from how to best torture Michel for his part in rooking her into this evening, the contents of her closet and how she could dress as tackily as possible to push her mother's buttons while still looking good, and … Luke… in a suit … with…

Try as she might, she couldn't keep the grin off of her face.

Emily Gilmore caught a flash of garish color in her peripheral vision and turned, frowning, to deal with it. A long-suffering sigh escaped her as she confirmed what she had feared: It was her daughter.

She watched as Lorelai sashayed her way across the ballroom to her, stopping to talk to family acquaintances along the way, that grin blooming on her face the way it always did when she knew she was doing something to irk her mother. Emily made a point of looking deliberately at her tiny, diamond-encrusted watch as Lorelai came to a stop in front of her.

"Don't try that one on me, Mom! It's 7:35. I was here on time!" Lorelai protested.

Emily set her lips and looked Lorelai over. She allowed herself to relax a bit. Except for the trailer-park color, Lorelai looked very nice. The dress hit her right above the knees, so it wasn't too short, although it did hug her hips. She wore a black knitted shrug over it, with feminine ruffles over the shoulders and down the front, making the strapless dress completely acceptable. Her hair settled over her shoulders in the curls Emily secretly preferred, and altogether she looked vibrant and beautiful. Emily reminded herself that Lorelai had given up a Saturday night to do this for her.

"I take it your gold lamé one was at the cleaners?" she asked, but for once her tone had more fondness in it than censure.

"Mom, it's summer. This is a summer color," Lorelai explained, her eyes rolling on their own.

"Look around, Lorelai. Do you see anyone else here in that summer color?"

Lorelai took her time looking around the room. "No, but then I'm probably two decades younger than the median age of those assembled in this room. Plus," she added, leaning towards her mother in confidence, "the septuagenarian taking names at the door told me I was the bees' knees, so I think I'm fine." She smiled, pleased at herself, as usual.

"Our table's over here," Emily said, moving over to it and conceding her acceptance of Lorelai's wardrobe.

"What's with the temperature?" Lorelai asked, pulling slightly at her sweater as the humidity sank in to her skin. "It's like a sauna in here!"

Emily groaned. "They've been promising me all day that it's going to be fixed. There's something wrong with a condenser or a coil or a generator—Oh, I don't know! I can't get a straight answer out of anyone, and believe me; I have tried to talk to anyone with a nametag on. They can't expect to retain business with these sorts of conditions! We had to book this facility months ago and now…" She broke off as she saw Lorelai tug at her sweater again. "Don't even think about it," she threatened, as she herself felt the need to wipe a bead of perspiration running down her neck from under her up-do.

Lorelai grimaced and looked around. "Food?" she asked, hopefully.

"They keep promising that, too," Emily muttered.

"No food?" Lorelai looked panicked. "I kind of skipped lunch today and had to run home and change and then drove here. I really need some food," she implored her mother.

Emily reared back her head, ready to once again put Lorelai in her place, but a sudden image of a toddler Lorelai begging for a cookie softened her. "I'll try to hurry up the hors d'oeuvres," she said. "In the meantime, go get a drink with lots of ice to cool down."

With a sigh, Lorelai made up way up to the bar. "Hi…Steve!" she said brightly to the young man behind the bar, after checking his nametag. He looked barely old enough to drink himself, and Lorelai suddenly felt very, very old, as though she fit in this room of people two decades older than herself. "I'd like a strawberry daiquiri big enough to bathe in, please."

An hour and a half later, Lorelai stumbled back up to Emily. It turned out that flirting with the bartender had unintended consequences, as he seemed to be doctoring her drinks with more booze and less heavenly slushy ice, which was really what she wanted.

Emily grabbed her arm. "Are you drunk?" she whispered furiously.

"Not on purpose!" Lorelai protested. "I'm hungry! And I'm hot!" she whined.

"Didn't you eat some of the appetizers?"

"No, I didn't! For a group with artificial hips and canes, they are amazingly light on their feet when the food came out. There was nothing left but some garnishes when I finally made it through the line!" Lorelai plopped down at the table, rummaging through her bag. She started twisting her curls up on her head and anchoring them with some bobby pins she'd found.

Her mother watched her, fascinated, as she was able to fix her hair so beautifully without a mirror. She meant to lecture her about how she shouldn't be touching her hair at the table, but was distracted by how pretty her daughter looked.

"How do you do that?" she asked, amazed. "Do you have any idea how much I pay someone to do this for me?" she added, pointing to her own head.

"Hmm. Maybe I should have been a hairdresser instead of a maid, huh?" Lorelai said, always knowing which buttons to push. She started to take her sweater off.

"Don't!" Emily said, threateningly.

"Mom, I'm suffocating! I can't stand it!"

Emily sighed. "Then go outside. There's a little courtyard just down the hall. We took pictures out there earlier. And…I'll try my best to get you something to eat."

"OK. Thanks," Lorelai mumbled, standing up with a little wobble on her high heels.

"And, Lorelai!" Emily grabbed her arm again. "Don't even think about going home. Do you promise me? You are in no condition to drive. If necessary, you'll spend the night with us, but you are not to leave here! Do you understand?"

Lorelai felt the familiar exasperation at her mother, but was also unexpectedly touched by her concern. "I won't go," she assured her, patting her hand awkwardly.

"All right, then," Emily nodded. "Go get some air."

"Air," Lorelai agreed. Air, she thought, as she floated down the hall, looking for the door to the promised courtyard. Cool, cool air…

But once outside in the small, enclosed area, the air was just as thick and damp as the ballroom inside.

"Damn," she muttered. She walked over to a small bench sitting against the railing. She stripped off the sweater and dropped it on the bench along with her purse. She was so hot! She could see tree branches swaying over the top of the fence. If there was just some way to get her head out there, where the air was…

She climbed up on the bench, trying to lean over far enough to catch the breeze. Her heels wobbled.

Suddenly, there was a voice at her shoulder. A low, gravelly, male voice. A voice she was well-acquainted with.

"You know," the voice was saying, "you're not a teenager anymore who has to sneak out of a window. If you don't like it here, you can just walk out the front door."

She turned to confirm it was who she thought it was, and the quick motion caused her heels to wobble dangerously again. Instantly his hands were on her hips, steadying her. She frantically tried to beat down all of the dirty Luke thoughts she'd had all day, and they listened to her and sank slowly southward in her body, giving an extra flush to her already-glowing face.

Luke helped her down off of the bench, a pleased look on his face. She wondered if she was hallucinating.

"Did my mother ask you here?" she blurted out.

Luke gave her the same quizzical look he always gave her when she spouted nonsense. "No," he finally said, looking amused.

"No, of course not," she agreed, noticing that he still hadn't taken his right hand off of her hip, or his left hand off of her arm from when he helped her down. She then noticed his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up as far as they would go, his black dress pants, his smooth face and neatly combed hair, sans baseball cap. Next she noticed her dry mouth and pounding heart.

"You look nice. Really nice. Good," she babbled, suddenly feeling breathless just from standing so close to him for this length of time. That was something that they took care to make sure never happened, normally.

Luke leaned even closer to her. "You look like a stick of cotton candy," he told her, his voice husky, letting his eyes roam over her slowly.

She felt her mouth drop open. This was not their regular banter.

"Well, it's a good thing you don't eat cotton candy, then," she retorted, trying to shock him back into his regular role.

Luke leaned in even closer, his hot breath hitting her ear. "Lorelai, you have no idea the things you could tempt me to do."

She gasped and reared her head back to look at his smug, handsome face. He gave her that grin, that same little-boy grin she'd seen in her afternoon fantasies. And she knew that events had been set in motion that she was going to be powerless to prevent.

That thought filled her with a thrilling happiness from the top of her sweating head to the tips of her scrunched up toes in her black stiletto heels.

Denny Davis and Luke Danes had been friends since first grade at Stars Hollow Elementary School when they had been lined up alphabetically the first day. They were the tallest boys in the room and soon found out they had a lot in common.

At recess, Denny looked at Luke warily and said, "Fish?"

"Yeah," Luke replied, looking across the playground.

Several minutes passed. "Jungle gym?" Luke asked, jerking his shoulder at the metal bars.

"OK," Denny said, and the two of them headed off, beginning the start of their friendship based on few words.

Over the years they did Cub Scouts together and played on lots of softball teams. In junior high Denny's family moved away but returned at the start of sophomore year in high school. They both ran track. In their senior year Denny finally got up the nerve to ask out Cindy Brunsfield, and Luke and Rachel double-dated with them a lot. Luke was a groomsman when they got married. Denny and Cindy moved to Woodbury. Rachel left for the first time shortly thereafter. Denny came to get Luke, and they went out drinking. Cindy decided she really didn't want to be married. Luke went and got Denny, and they went out drinking. Rachel came back. Rachel left. More drinking. Rachel came and went, came and went. The last time he hadn't even bothered calling Denny with the news. It wasn't like they called each other all that often, anymore. They tried to catch a few hockey or baseball games during the year, but they weren't like Lorelai and Sookie, who called each other every time they found a new color of nail polish, or anything.

So it was a surprise when Luke received an invitation to Denny's second wedding because he hadn't even heard of this woman, Brooke, whose name was on the invitation. Feeling guilty at being so out of touch with his friend's life, he RSVP'ed immediately.

That was how he found himself on this hot, hot August evening, his hand on the door of the Silver Ballroom at the Hyatt in downtown Hartford. He'd sat through their wedding earlier at an impressive church a few blocks away, and now he felt obligated to attend their reception, where he would undoubtedly feel awkwardly out-of-place.

"Brooke, Brooke," he mumbled to himself before pulling open the door. He had a fear of calling her Cindy without thinking.

He shook hands with Denny's parents, who were standing close to the door, telling them what a beautiful wedding it had been. Since they hadn't been in Stars Hollow for awhile, they asked him for updates on some of the town's characters, and they were soon laughing at Luke's deadpan quips about recent events.

Denny came up and clapped him on the back. "Glad you could come, man!"

"Wouldn't miss it," Luke told him.

"Come get a drink," Denny urged, leading him towards the bar.

"Geez, Denny, why's it so hot in here?" Luke asked, tugging at his collar. "It's like a sauna in here," he added, unaware that he was mirroring another Stars Hollow resident's comment in the ballroom next door.

"Yeah, what a day for the air conditioning to fail, huh?" Denny explained, sympathetically. "They say they're going to bring some industrial-size fans in here. Brooke's ready to have their heads, but apparently there's some snobby society dame next door pitching an even bigger fit, so they're bending over backwards to make us more comfortable. Just hang on," he encouraged.

Luke asked for a beer. The bartender handed it to him, Luke took a swig, noticing that Denny was nervously still standing beside him. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Uh, here's the thing," Denny said, fidgeting, putting his hands in his pockets. "You clean up pretty good, you know." Luke continued to stare at him, and Denny gave a nervous chuckle. "Brooke's noticed." Luke's eyebrows shot up further in disbelief. "No, no, no!" Denny laughed, swatting at him. "She's stuck with me. But," he gave a heavy sigh. "She has lots of friends, Luke. Lots of single friends. You get what I mean?"

Luke groaned. He thought he did.

"So, most guys might not mind that lots of pretty girls with one thing on their minds are going to be sent his way tonight, but I know you…and I'm sorry, OK?"

Luke sighed, and glared at him.

"Yeah, I know it's rough, being all handsome and available," Denny teased him. "I should know. That was my life, until just recently."

"Hi, Denny!" a female voice fluttered at him.

"Uh, hi, uh, Tracey!" Denny floundered. He turned to Luke, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "This is Luke. Luke, this is Tracey, she's one of Brooke's friends."

"Nice to meet you," Luke said in resignation to the woman, trying not to look at what Lorelai would have called the huge 'butt bow' on the back of her bridesmaid dress. Why did women do that to each other?

"Drink up," Denny advised him softly, giving him a cuff on the shoulder as he left to circulate through the rest of the guests and find his new wife. Poor Luke, he thought, looking back at his friend trying to make stiff conversation with Tracey. I guess he's still hung up on Rachel. What a shame.

An hour and a half later, Luke wondered if he'd put in enough time to call it a night. The staff had brought in fans, and it had helped to circulate the warm air around, but it was still uncomfortable with so many people in the room. Dinner had been served, but the cake had yet to be cut. The band was starting to play. Luke, along with most of the rest of the gentlemen in attendance, had removed his suit coat and tie. It was just too damn hot to be proper.

He struggled to his feet and was aghast to see that the room spun a bit as he straightened up. He was drunk? He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten drunk. He also couldn't remember exactly how many drinks he'd consumed. Going back to the bar for another drink had seemed like a good way to end all of the awkward conversations with all of the pushy women Brooke kept sending his way. Not to mention he was seated with three of them at the table. He'd let the waiter refill his wine glass every time he passed by, and hell, he didn't even like wine.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chastised himself. Now what?

He walked cautiously through the ballroom and out the door. He walked up and down the hallway a few times, judging his sobriety. He wasn't too bad, he thought. Then he reconsidered: If Jess had had this much to drink, would he want him to get behind the wheel?

Sighing, he made his way over to the registration desk. Good thing I'm in a hotel, he thought snidely.

A few minutes later he was pocketing a plastic room key. He headed back to the reception but then paused, not really wanting to go back in and face having to dance with all of Brooke's friends, or come up with excuses not to dance with Brooke's friends.

What is wrong with you? His mind thundered at himself. He turned abruptly and stalked down the hall. Most guys would love the position you're in tonight. What would be so bad about getting to know any of those women?

His brain instantly started ticking off all of the reasons he wouldn't like it: They didn't have sparkling blue eyes; they didn't toss their hair right; they didn't talk nonsense a mile a minute; they didn't have daughters named Rory…

Stop, stop, stop! He begged himself. She's not the only woman in the world! Are you seriously never going to even try to get close to anyone else just because of her? Are you honestly going to be content to go on like this, because she's never going to notice you, man! If you had half a brain, you'd go back into that room right now and write down some of those numbers and make a start!

The problem was, he realized, he just didn't feel anything for anyone else. Lorelai had spoiled him for anyone else. It didn't matter how pretty or curvy or personable any other woman was, she wasn't Lorelai. He swore he could feel sparks hitting him as soon as she opened the door to the diner. Why couldn't she feel them, too?

Dejectedly he leaned against a door in the hallway. Looking out, he realized it led out into some sort of little park. Thinking some fresh air might help to clear his head, Luke pushed open the door and stepped out.

He ambled around the small pathway and there, up on a bench, assaulting every male hormone he had, was a delicious hot-pink rump, bouncing on top of long, long legs encased in some of the tallest black heels he'd ever seen.

Luke sucked in a breath and stared, letting the sexy vision fill his eyes. Then, because he wasn't that guy, he turned away, but not before filing away the image for some private recollection later.

Suddenly it hit him with a thrill: He felt a sexual attraction to this unknown woman! It wasn't Lorelai, and for once, he felt something!

Then, before he could congratulate himself too much, his internal tricorder started taking readings and he soon shut his eyes in defeat. He didn't know the hows or the whys, but he knew, without doubt, whose luscious hot-pink ass that was.

He turned and walked over to her slowly, first in resignation, then in growing excitement that she was here. He started to chuckle softly as he took in her apparent attempt to climb over the fence.

"You know," he said as he walked up to her, "you're not a teenager anymore who has to sneak out of a window. If you don't like it here, you can just walk out the front door."

He'd startled her and she turned quickly, wobbling dangerously on those sexy, impractical heels. Without thought he reached up to steady her, his hands feeling hot on the satin encasing her hips. He helped her down off of the bench, and seemed unable to remove his hands from her. She felt so good, and looked so good. His eyes couldn't take in all of the bare goodness of her neck and shoulders and –Oh, Lord!―her chest that was exposed since all of her curls were twisted up on her head. He seemed to be having trouble swallowing.

"Did my mother ask you here?" Lorelai asked from out of nowhere.

"No," he laughed. What a silly question, but so typically Lorelai!

"No, of course not," she mumbled, seeming to suddenly focus clearly on him. "You look nice. Really nice. Good," she babbled in that nervous, endearing way she had, bobbing her head with her words.

Luke let his hand slide around some on her shiny hip, and for once said exactly what he was thinking: "You look like a stick of cotton candy." It came out in a much sexier tone than he'd actually intended, and he saw the momentary shock on her face.

"Well, it's a good thing you don't eat cotton candy then," she shot back at him, and he knew she was trying to regain the upper hand, trusting him to step back and maintain their status quo.

But he wasn't in the mood for the dance they normally did with each other. Tonight he was just tired of waiting for it to be his turn. Tonight he was ready to go for broke.

"Lorelai," he told her, this time letting all of his desire flow out with the words, "you have no idea the things you could tempt me to do."

He watched transfixed as her face slowly moved from shock to that bright smile that lit up her whole face from within. That smile that was hers alone, that shone out through her eyes and made him fall in love with her in the first place.

For the first time, he felt things just might go his way.

Lorelai made it inside her house, her very own, dear, beloved Crap Shack, and leaned up against the door gratefully. She bent down and pulled off her shoes again, starting to slog over to the stairs.

"Mom!" Rory called to her from the kitchen.

Startled, Lorelai dropped her shoes on the stairs and changed direction, heading now for the kitchen. She saw Rory at the table, neatly dressed, a book spread in front of her and her backpack on the floor beside her.

Lorelai rubbed her forehead in confusion, thinking she'd stumbled into some sort of time warp.

"It's summer," she said, insistently. "It's summer, and it's a Sunday!"

Rory looked up, frowning, but being Lorelai's daughter, quickly understood her mother's confusion.

"Right, but Paris is insisting we meet today for a Franklin meeting before she leaves for a two-week vacation, remember? And early morning was her only available time, remember? And…well, you've met Paris, right?"

"Right, right," Lorelai murmured, her head clearing slightly.

"And then, since I'll be in Hartford, I'm going to the library, and then tonight, Dean's taking me out to dinner. Remember?" she prodded her mother.

"Hartford," Lorelai said, the word sticking in her throat a little bit.

"Where you just were, right!" Rory said, pleased. "So I guess you had more fun than you thought last night, huh?"

Lorelai winced. "Ah, Rory, uh, about last night…I'm really sorry, kid."

"Why?" Rory asked, befuddled.

"I'm not being a real good example, here," Lorelai mumbled nervously.

"Mom! Don't be silly! Of course you are!" As Lorelai looked even more ashamed, Rory continued. "Look. You knew you had too much to drink, right? So you did the right thing. You called me and stayed at the hotel and didn't try to drive. I say you gave a perfect example of how to handle the situation."

Lorelai fought the urge to bang her head against the table at her daughter's take on her less-than-stellar behavior.

"I called?" she said, doubtfully.

Rory laughed. "You don't remember? Man, you must have been wasted! You sounded happy, if that helps!" she teased. "Did you do something slutty?"

Lorelai's brain suddenly flashed on her quick call to Rory, while Luke was in the bathroom. And then he'd come out, and she'd closed the phone, and they'd…

"Mom?" Rory questioned, bringing her back abruptly. "Did you have fun?"

"More than I expected," Lorelai answered, truthfully. "But the air conditioning was out and I drank more than I should have to cool down, and all of the old people snarfed down the food…I'm really sorry, Rory."

"OK," Rory said quietly, cocking her head to study her mom. She couldn't quite put her finger on what was off with her, and it wasn't just a hangover. "Well, I need to get going," she said, standing up and gathering her things. "You'll be OK?"

"Sure, I'm fine," Lorelai said. "I just need to get a shower and head for work." Amazingly, she did feel fine. Apparently lots and lots of hot sex was a good cure for too much to drink.

"Not going to go to Luke's for hangover pancakes?" Rory asked.

Lorelai gulped at the mention of Luke's name. "No, not today," she tried to say lightly.

"OK, then," Rory said, giving her mom a quick hug. "Huh," she said thoughtfully, breathing deeply.

"What?" Lorelai asked, alarmed, as Rory sniffed her.

"There's just a smell…" Rory said, stiff sniffing.

"I smell?" Lorelai said, trying to joke.

"No, no, there's just a scent…I can't place it," Rory's forehead crinkled in concentration. "And it's so familiar. I should know what it is. It's like when you get a song in your head, you know? What do they call it? An ear worm? I guess if it's a scent it'd be a nose worm, huh?"

"Eww. Gross," Lorelai shuddered.

"Yeah!" Rory laughed. "You'll be home tonight, right, missy?" she said sternly to her mother.

"I'll probably work late to make up for this morning, but I'll be here!" she promised Rory.

She watched her daughter leave and then took herself upstairs to shower and change, resolutely trying not to think about Luke. Or any part of his body.

That turned out to be a losing proposition.

"So, if my mother didn't lure you here, what are you doing here?" Lorelai asked Luke, still smiling her bright smile.

Luke had removed his hand from her hip, realizing belatedly that was a little too forward. His other hand he kept on her arm however, and let his thumb rub soft circles on her skin right above her elbow.

"A friend of mine got married today, so I'm here at the reception," he explained.

"Aw, that's nice," Lorelai cooed.

Luke scoffed.

"It's not nice?" Lorelai questioned, her face doubting him.

"Oh, yeah, it's great if you like sweating like you're in the tropics and pushy, pushy girls."

Lorelai's eyebrows rose. "Luke, I'm a pushy, pushy girl," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're my pushy, pushy girl," he said without thinking, and Lorelai's smile grew even bigger. "I'm used to you."

Lorelai leaned closer. "Do I need to come with you and protect you from the pushy, pushy girls?"

"That would be great!" he sighed with satisfaction, but then he frowned and looked towards the door. "But where are you supposed to be?"

Lorelai pouted and rolled her eyes. "At this stupid fundraiser my mother shanghaied me for tonight. It's for birds…that sing…or fly…or something," she shrugged, suddenly having a difficult time remembering details. "But there's no food," she added, her voice taking on the whiny quality Luke was very familiar with, "and it's so hot in there!"

Luke's face broke out in a grin as he realized who the 'snobby society dame' was who was turning the hotel staff against her.

"We have food," he said enticingly to Lorelai. "And big, huge fans."

"You win," Lorelai nodded. "I'm comin' with you."

He watched as she picked up her things and started to totter towards the door. "Wait," he said, his hand pulling at her arm again. "Won't your mom wonder where you are?"

Lorelai groaned, frustrated. "Yeah, and she's actually been kinda nice tonight," she grumbled. "I'm actually kinda drunk," she admitted, shooting her eyes quickly to Luke, then looking back away. "I didn't mean to be! Steve just keeps putting more booze in my drinks. And did I mention there's no food?"

"Steve?" Luke hated the way jealousy instantly shot through his chest.

"Bartender," she explained, not picking up on the jealousy thing. "Hey! I know," she said brightly, tapping his chest. "Why don't you come with me, and fix the air conditioner thingy, and then my mother will love you forever!" She laughed at her plan.

"Well…" he said slowly, "I don't think your mother would ever love me, no matter how many things I could fix, and I don't have Bert with me, and, truthfully," here he sighed, "I'm actually kinda drunk, too."

"You?" Lorelai gaped at him. "You never get drunk! You won't even sip Patty's punch!"

"Yeah, well, tonight getting drunk seemed like a good plan."

"Hmm." Lorelai eyed him speculatively. "Well, come on. Let's go tell her I'm going with you. And just ignore any sort of insin―insin― insin-u-ations she might make, OK?" she ordered, finally getting the hard word out in pieces.

"What insinuations?" Luke questioned, but Lorelai didn't answer as she concentrated on pulling him down the hall.

Once inside the ballroom, Luke studied the other guests as Lorelai guided them towards her mother. "Geez, did your mother raid a nursing home tonight?"

Lorelai giggled. "I know! But stay out of their way if there's food! They're surprisingly spry when it comes to buffet lines!" she commented softly to Luke. "Mom!" she said, in a normal voice to Emily, having reached her.

Emily turned, her face showing surprise to see that Lorelai was with someone. She sighed in defeat, seeing that the sweater was now off. She glared suspiciously at Luke, waiting for Lorelai to say something.

"Mom, you remember Luke, right?" Lorelai said brightly.

"It's really nice to see you again, Mrs. Gilmore," Luke said as pleasantly as he could, standing up as straight as possible.

Emily quirked an eyebrow briefly, but otherwise didn't let on how shocked she was that this handsomely-groomed man was the scruffy diner-owner she'd met in the past.

"Good evening, Luke," she managed to say.

"Luke's here for a friend's wedding reception," Lorelai explained. "They're just down the hall."

"How nice." Emily smiled thinly. "Was it a pretty wedding?" she asked politely.

"Well, it wasn't the Romanov's," Luke said, "but since it's summer, I guess that wouldn't have been appropriate, anyway."

Emily smiled more genuinely. "No, I guess not."

Lorelai's finger poked him in the ribs, and Luke squirmed away from her. "I was wondering if it would be OK with you if Lorelai joined me in there."

"They have food," Lorelai added. "And fans!"

Emily looked doubtfully at Lorelai's bare shoulders and the tipsy grin on her face, but then she looked at Luke's solid frame and she remembered the obvious affection he held for her daughter. He'd take care of her, she knew, or die trying.

"Very well," she agreed. "Guests are starting to leave this disaster, anyway."

Lorelai gave out a little whoop and started to pull Luke away. "Thanks, Mom!"

"Luke, wait!" Emily said urgently, putting her hand on his other arm. They stopped, and Luke looked at her questioningly.

She dropped her hand and her eyes to the carpet, briefly, before meeting Luke's gaze. "Lorelai shouldn't be driving tonight. Will you make sure she gets home safely?"

"Of course I will," Luke said automatically.

"You're still welcome to spend the night with us," she reminded Lorelai.

"OK, thanks!" Lorelai said again, waving as she started to pull Luke away, this time without protest.

Out in the hall, she smacked his arm. "How did you do that? How did you sober up so fast? You're just as drunk as I am!"

He rubbed his arm. "I'll tell you my secret," he offered, and Lorelai bent closer to him. "Your mom scares the crap out of me!"

Lorelai laughed delightedly, and rubbed his arm where she'd hit him. "That's OK," she told him, confidentially. "She scares everyone!" She tucked her arm under Luke's. "Now, take me in to do battle with those pushy, pushy girls!"

The ever-bubbly Sookie St. James Belleville sprang into action as she saw her best friend and tardy business partner-to-be enter through her kitchen door. Instantly Sookie was in front of her, a spoon poised at Lorelai's lips.

"Try this!" she demanded, her dimples showing as she tried to evade Lorelai's defensive hand.

"What is that?" Lorelai asked, feeling herself turn a little green at the smell.

"Beef stroganoff," Sookie replied, as if it was obvious.

"Sookie, I cannot eat beef stroganoff at …whatever time it is. For the love of God, get it away from me."

"Oh!" Sookie paused and considered Lorelai thoughtfully. "That's right; you were out last night, at one of your mother's fancy things. Oh! Were there dancing midgets?"

Lorelai had to smile a little. "No, no dancing midgets."

Sookie came a little closer. "Did you have a good time?"

Lorelai tried very hard to keep the smile off of her face, with limited success. "It was OK," she tried to say noncommittally.

Sookie pounced on the mysterious smile. "You," she proclaimed, waving a ladle for emphasis, "did something slutty! Spill! I want details, since I am now a proper married lady and will never have any exploits of my own to brag about. Tell me everything!"

"Sookie, really, it was just a boring charity thing," Lorelai said desperately.

"I don't think so," Sookie said, regarding Lorelai seriously. Her laughter then pealed out. "I think you met some handsome stranger and had a rendezvous! Or, no, I know! You met a rich sugar daddy, and he's promised you diamonds and he's going to front us the money for our own inn! That's it!"

"I can assure you that there was no one at my mother's thing last night young enough to physically be able to handle a 'rendezvous'," Lorelai retorted.

"Well, they have those pills now…"

"Sookie, I beg you, don't go there!"

Sookie stirred quietly for a moment, watching Lorelai pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Something happened, though, didn't it?" She had been friends with Lorelai for so long now that she recognized all the signs. She was sensing some regrets; some second thoughts. "Was it someone I know?" she teased. Her eyes opened wide as she saw Lorelai's back stiffen.

Lorelai turned to Sookie with her face carefully set. "Long night," she said. "Lots to drink. Head jumbled. Please let me get through the day, OK?" She smiled pleadingly at Sookie.

"OK," Sookie agreed. "But if it was slutty, I still want details when you feel better!"

Lorelai smiled and raised her coffee cup in salute as she headed out of the kitchen towards her office. She knew from past experience how determined Sookie could be in trying to worm things out of her. But this time, there was no chance. Luke would kill her if Sookie got even a whiff of what they did last night.

Luke took Lorelai's hand as he pulled open the door, ushering her inside. She gave his hand a little squeeze as she smiled at him as she entered the reception. Part of her brain noticed that they seemed to be doing an awful lot of touching. They'd never really touched before, had they? But they were friends, and it was OK to touch your friends, wasn't it? In any case, the touching felt really good. Really good. There really wasn't anything wrong in touching him, was there?

She decided to be Scarlett O'Hara and just worry about that another day.

"Ooooh!" she moaned in appreciation as the blast from the fan hit her. She stood in front of it, legs and arms spread wide, giggling as the air buffeted her.

Luke watched, swallowing hard, while the wind from the fan loosened some of the curls around her face. She was just so damn cute. She was always gorgeous, always sexy, but when she added the cute thing on top of that she was just irresistible. He tried to get himself under control.

"Come on," he said gruffly, pulling her away as he spotted Denny.

Denny stopped and turned as he heard Luke call his name. He tried not to look shocked as he took in the sexy creature holding Luke's hand. How had he overlooked this friend of Brooke's?

"Denny, I wanted you to meet my friend Lorelai, from Stars Hollow," he started.

Denny's eyes widened. He'd heard Luke mention Lorelai for years, but somehow the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous had never come up. Knowing she had a teenaged kid, Denny had always pictured someone matronly, like in insurance ads. Things started to click into place for him.

So it's not Rachel, he thought, automatically greeting Lorelai.

"Congratulations on getting the good room, with the fans and the food," Lorelai told him, brightly. Her smile nearly knocked him backwards. "Congratulations on the wedding, too. And on getting this one, here, out for the evening! It's rare that Jeremiah Johnson makes a public appearance!" She patted Luke's arm fondly, belying her teasing.

Denny liked her instantly. "He even shaved," he pointed out to Lorelai, nodding towards Luke.

"I know! It's probably going to throw his grooming schedule off for the rest of the month!" She acted like Luke wasn't there.

"OK, already," Luke grumped. "Denny, she's stuck in the room next door. Is it OK if she joins us in here?"

"Sure, Luke, you were always welcome to bring a date," he said mildly, but emphasizing the date part to see Luke squirm. "Make yourself at home," he told Lorelai.

"Ooh, I will, right in front of the fans!"

"Well, have a good time," Denny said, pleasantly enough, but fixing Luke with a look that removed all doubt about what he really meant, as he walked off to find Brooke and let her know that this matchmaking attempt was finished.

"Let's find you some food," Luke said.

They started across the room, dodging groups caught up in loud conversations over the dance music blaring through the air. Suddenly Lorelai stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, Luke," she breathed out, in awe. "This is beautiful."

She was stopped in front of a coffee table, complete with multiple thermal pitchers and every conceivable item that could possibly be combined with coffee. The table was swirled with glittery tulle and tiny lights, while peach rose petals rubbed up against the offerings.

"It's too hot," Luke observed.

"I want this," she moaned, dreamily. "When I get married, I want this to be the theme. Will you make the coffee when I get married, Luke?"

"You have someone in mind?" he asked curtly.

"Yes," she answered, steadily. "I figure I can make Johnny Depp forget all about that girlfriend he's been shacked up with in France for years. Do you think he drinks coffee?"

"Only if all the rum's gone."

"Why, Luke, you've seen a movie," Lorelai praised him, right before a companion thought made her heart beat harder in an emotion she refused to dignify with the term jealousy. "Who did you see it with?"

"My secret girlfriend, of course," he deadpanned. Much to his surprise, Lorelai turned stricken eyes to him before looking away. "Jess," he said quickly. "We went in the middle of the afternoon so no one would see the cool kid going to the movies with his uncle."

She gave a nod, but still didn't look convinced. He chuckled in disbelief. "You honestly think I could be seeing someone and the gossips in Stars Hollow wouldn't be shouting it from the rooftops? You live next door to Babette, for cryin' out loud!"

"You could have another Elle McPherson up there, for all I know," Lorelai said grumpily.

"Who?" Luke asked, although he actually knew who that was, and also surmised what Lorelai was getting at.

"It's just, you're secretive about stuff," Lorelai still sounded put-out. "I ramble on about everything. I'm an open book, and you don't share anything. You could be living with someone in Litchfield for all I know!" She was appalled to feel tears stinging her eyes, as though it was a real possibility.

Luke scoffed. "Yeah, I think you beating down my door looking for coffee three times a week at 10:30 might give that away. Besides, you never tell me anything about the guys you date!" He steeled himself to ask. "Are you?"

Lorelai paused. "Dating someone?" she clarified.

"Yes," he nodded, holding his breath.

She tilted her head defiantly. "No." She waited a beat. "Are you?"

"No." He gave her the same defiant look.

They glared at each other for a few more moments, neither quite sure what had just happened.

"Um, let's get you some food," Luke suggested nervously.

"Food sounds good," Lorelai agreed.

"When doesn't it sound good," Luke muttered, but led her to the table still filled with canapés and all sorts of munchables.

Lorelai filled a plate happily, crooning seductively to all the little appetizers about what she was going to do them when she got them back to the table. Luke rolled his eyes, knowing it was useless to try and stop her.

The only seat available at his table, when they neared it, was the one he had vacated, his suit jacket still hanging from the back. He started to look for another chair, or somewhere else to sit when Lorelai pressed her hip against him, stopping him.

"So are those the pushy, pushy girls?" she asked as softly as could with the blaring music, motioning towards the table.

"Yeah," Luke sighed.

"And you're sure you want them to leave you alone?"

"More than I want a Kirk-free morning," Luke assured her.

That pleased, 'I'm planning something evil' look fastened itself on Lorelai's face, and Luke had second thoughts. "Then just leave it to me," she told him, continuing on to the table.

Once they reached it Lorelai sat down her plate and pushed Luke down into his chair at the same time. She then plopped herself down across his lap as if it was something she did all the time. He instantly put his hand along her side to hold her steady, even though his mind was frantic from her closeness and her heat and the unimaginable thrill of her weight on his legs. He stared at her bare neck right in front of him, with the little curls wisping their way down it, and her perfume invading his senses, and he willed himself to not even think about letting his mouth follow those curls.

"Hi!" she said brightly to everyone at the table.

Luke made the best introductions he could, considering that his mind was really not on good manners right at the moment.

Lorelai started to inhale her food, as per normal. She paused momentarily, twisting herself around to pop a grape tomato into his mouth that she had picked up accidentally. As she used her thumb to wipe under his bottom lip, both Beth and Amy, the girls to the right and left of him, decided they needed to go to the ladies' room.

Luke concentrated on not sucking that thumb into his mouth. He alternately praised God that he was still sober enough to control his actions and cursed that same sobriety.

Stephanie, the curvy redhead seated directly across from him, wasn't ready to concede defeat yet. She asked question after question of Lorelai, prying out as much information as she could.

Luke had expected Lorelai to assume another persona, Mimi, maybe, but to his surprise she stayed herself, answering Stephanie's intrusive questions with good-natured replies; telling her about Stars Hollow and Rory, and all of the many, many times Luke had come to their rescue through the years.

"You guys are really good friends, aren't you?" Stephanie asked wistfully.

Lorelai leaned her head back to rest against Luke's. "The best, aren't we, Snookums?" she asked playfully, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek.

"You bet." Luke meant for the words to come out as dry sarcasm, but instead his voice turned husky with emotion, and his other arm tightened around Lorelai's waist, drawing her closer to him in a squeezing motion that looked and felt like a hug.

Lorelai turned her face to him more fully, her eyes unblinking and holding her breath, wondering if this was finally going to be it.

"Well," Stephanie sighed, pushing away from the table and breaking the mood, "I really envy you. That is truly hard to find. And I should know; I've been looking for years."

As Stephanie walked away, Luke loosened his hold on Lorelai because he was now supremely self-conscious of their positions. Lorelai dropped her hand from his face and looked down at the table.

"You want more food?" he asked instantly, hoping for a diversion.

"No, I'm good," she answered, pressing her hands against the table to stop them from snaking their way back to Luke's chest.

I bet you are! he found himself thinking. Desperate to shift his mind away, anywhere but there, he shot to his feet, nearly dumping Lorelai to the floor.

"Let's dance," he practically ordered, before she could put her protest of his abrupt movements into words. That shocked her into silence. Her mouth dropped open and she pointed at him in disbelief, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, I asked you to dance," he confirmed, with his usual eye-roll. "It's not that big a deal."

"Oh, I beg to differ there, Mr.-I-Hate-All-Forms-of-Public-Prancing," Lorelai teased. She took his arm and attempted to drag him towards the dance floor. "And you can't get out of it now. You've asked the fair lady for this dance, and you, sir, are going to dance!"

Luke took her hand in his, and put his hand, properly, on her waist, as his mother and Miss Patty had instructed him, many, many years ago. He waited for the beat and started to move them around the floor. He couldn't remember ever feeling more awkward in his life.

Lorelai worked to free her hand from his grip. She then slid it up his arm, gently squeezing his bicep and then his shoulder, as she brought it to rest behind his neck. Her other hand joined the first, and her fingers lightly stroked the back of his head and neck.

She smiled.

He brought his hands to the small of her back and applied gentle pressure, bringing her closer to him.

He smiled back.

They imperceptibly shifted closer to each other as the song progressed. Their smiles faded as their breathing started to hitch in their chests. Awkwardness was long gone. It was in Canada, ready to send them a postcard.

"You're just full of surprises," Lorelai murmured into his ear, because that's where her face was now, right next to his.

"You have no idea," Luke murmured back, stopping his lips just before they brushed her cheek.

Lorelai tilted her head just enough to look at him. "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?" Luke flustered.

"That night, in the diner."

"Oh, well, that narrows it down," he drawled.

"Picking out the paint, behind the counter." She waited for him to reply, and when he didn't, she decided to let her alcohol-loosened tongue just go with it. "You wanted to kiss me," she whispered with conviction into his ear. "Why didn't you do it?"

Luke sucked in a breath as the shock of it made him feel as though the floor was falling out from under him. "Wasn't sure if you wanted me to," he finally managed to stutter out.

They had stopped dancing, and were standing, their arms holding each others' bodies close, their eyes holding each others' thoughts closer.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," Lorelai challenged him, her arms tightening around him even more.

He brought one hand up to cup her face, searching her eyes to see if this was really what she wanted. He leaned forward, and let his lips touch hers.

There, see, that was fine, he congratulated himself a few moments later. You kissed her, and it was fine. The earth didn't stop; life goes on. You've just made it into a much bigger deal all these years than it actually was.

Slowly he came to realize that he and Lorelai were basically holding each other up while they struggled to catch their breath. Her right hand had a death grip on the back of his head, and his heart was pounding louder than the beat of the music. He held her possessively. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused and her mouth looked kissed. Very much kissed.

He looked up to see nearby couples eyeing them speculatively, either with smirking amusement or thinly-veiled condemnation. He was starting to get a clue that it had been more than just a kiss.

"Cake!" He practically shouted the word at her, snapping her out of her kiss-induced coma, tugging her off the dance floor.

"You want cake?" she asked stupidly. She was having trouble making her mouth work, although she seemed to recall it was working just fine several moments before. It was just those things—whatdya call 'em?—words, that were giving her trouble.

"You want cake," Luke said confidently. He was hoping that eating cake would give them a chance to assimilate whatever had just happened. Plus, just sitting down in general would probably be a good idea, since he felt as though he had just finished running a track relay.

Lorelai followed Luke obediently, because, well, cake, but she was miffed that he apparently was trying to ignore that tsunami of a kiss they'd just shared. Seriously, if they rated kisses like tornadoes, that was an F-5. No cheap little belt from J.C. Penney's would be able to hold them down to the ground in the midst of that.

"What kind do you want?" Luke asked, his arm sweeping over the slices presented in front of them. He glanced quickly at Lorelai but was too nervous to look at her directly. What was she thinking now, about him? Had those few moments of unguarded desire ruined things between them?

The sight of all that cake spread in front of her momentarily distracted Lorelai from her building irritation at Luke. "Well, I don't know," she sighed, weighing her choices. "There's chocolate, and I love chocolate, but there's just something about white wedding cake that's so perfect. I mean, it just doesn't really seem like wedding cake unless it's white, you know? But on the other hand, hello, chocolate! Sometimes it's the same way with birthday cake. All of those flavors are great, but there's just something so pure about white birthday cake, especially if you get one of the big icing roses on top of it, that just can't compare to anything else—"

Rolling his eyes at her indecision, Luke grabbed a slice of white cake and shoved it in her hands. He then picked up a slice of chocolate and nudged her towards a now-empty table. He turned a chair slightly out and motioned for Lorelai to sit. He then pulled out the one next to it and sat down himself, so that they were facing each other with their knees nearly touching.

Lorelai wasted no time in getting a forkful into her mouth. She gave one of those little moans Luke was used to hearing from the diner, when she really needed coffee, or the burger was just right, or the pie was boysenberry. He realized he'd just heard it back on the dance floor, too.

Her eyelids fluttered as she licked the fork. "Good choice," she muttered happily to him. "White was definitely the way to go." She stopped, shocked, as she saw Luke prepare a bite of cake on his own fork. "You're eating cake?" she squeaked.

"No," he said shortly, holding the bite to her lips. "This just seemed like the smart way to solve your dilemma, since I had no desire to stand in front of the cake table for the rest of the evening."

Lorelai smiled, and her eyes turned smoky, and she leaned forward slightly to take the bite into her mouth. Luke gulped, feeling the vibrations in his hand from her mouth's movement. She looked at him through her lashes. Suddenly, feeding her cake didn't seem like the smartest thing to do.

He stared at her lips, watching as her tongue came out to lick off a smudge of icing. His hand, still holding out the fork, was shaking a little. With a start, he looked back down at the plate, and forced his hand to ready another bite.

Little pieces of the kiss were starting to filter back to him. Her mouth, so warm—no, hot, opening under his. So sweet, just as he always suspected she'd taste. And her body—God, that body! Pressed up against him, fitting perfectly, making every contact point he'd ever imagined. And then his hand had dipped a little lower on her back, pressing her closer, and she'd made that moan, surging up against him, and he'd nearly lost all control.

He pulled in a sharp breath and his eyes jumped to hers. Hers twinkled at him, and her mouth had a smug little smile on it. "It was good, wasn't it?" she asked, and he didn't think he'd ever heard anything so sexy.

Without any direction from his brain he sat the plate down on the table and leaned towards her, his one hand running along her leg with his finger stoking the skin under the slit on her thigh, the other raising up to cradle and caress her face. "So good," he agreed, barely able to get the words out. "So incredibly good."

"You wanna do it again?" she asked saucily.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed fervently, taking the plate from her hands. "Oh, hell, yeah." He pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they unsteadily made their way back to the dance floor.

This time there wasn't any awkwardness in trying to find a dance position. Their bodies knew this time just how to fit together.

Lorelai moaned again into his ear as his hands pressed into her lower back, ramping up the heat of their desire into a bonfire.

Lorelai knew that there was probably some sort of speech she should be giving herself, about how this was Luke, and they were in public, and she should be controlling this situation, but frankly, she was too far gone to care. This was Luke and he was perfect, and if she was being honest with herself—for the first time in how many years?—this was exactly what she'd always wanted. So she opened her eyes, and looked into his, and moved her lips fractionally, (thank God for her impractical high heels, bringing her face up to exactly where it needed to be) and their second kiss exploded right into where the first one had ended.

There was a third kiss, and there would have been a fourth, and a fifth, leading to infinity and beyond, but abruptly Denny was there with his hands on their shoulders, gently breaking them apart.

"Um," he started, chuckling nervously, "we were, uh, trying to keep the rating at the reception at PG-13, but it looks like you guys are seriously flirting with the NC-17 thing."

"Geez, Denny, sorry!" Luke gasped out, embarrassed beyond belief, trying to rein himself in. He glanced at Lorelai, trying to read her expression.

She was clutching his arm, her fingers busily kneading the muscles underneath. She was concentrating on the fact that she was kneading his arm because of how very much she needed other parts of him. She fought back the urge to giggle. Luke probably would not be amused at her ongoing word games right now.

She looked at Denny and tried to process what he was saying. "Sorry," she said, since that's what Luke had said, although she wasn't sorry at all. She smiled at Denny and leaned into Luke. "We'll behave."

Denny shook his head slowly as he stared at the smitten Lorelai. He turned to Luke, hoping that his normally down-to-earth friend would still have enough sanity left to hear him.

"You two need to go somewhere private," he said quietly, into Luke's ear. "You don't really want to be doing this on the dance floor, do you?"

Yes! Luke's brain thundered. Yes, I do! Right here, right now!

"No, of course not," he muttered to Denny, chastised. "Sorry if we made a scene."

"It's OK," Denny assured him. "Just some parents will have to have 'the talk' when they get home; no big deal." He tried to laugh and cuff Luke on the shoulder.

After a few more supremely awkward moments of thanking Denny, apologizing, and collecting their things, Luke and Lorelai found themselves outside in the hall, blinking in the bright light, frustrated, embarrassed, and wondering where to go now.

They stole looks at each other in the bright light, neither knowing quite what to do or say. Awkwardness returned from Canada and offered to rejoin the group. Desire started to walk away.

"We should find somewhere to talk," Lorelai murmured, absently reaching out and stroking Luke's arm.

The movement of her hand was hypnotic. "Yeah, talk," Luke agreed, partly because he wasn't ready for this to end, and partly because he was ready to agree to anything she suggested.

Lorelai tore her focus from his arm and gazed up and down the hallway. "Um, maybe that courtyard from earlier?"

"Sure," he said, and led the way down the hall.

They sat down on the bench Lorelai had been standing on.

"Ow!" she complained, leaping back up and rubbing the backs of her thighs. The wooden slats didn't feel good against her bare legs at all.

"Here," Luke offered, tugging her down onto his lap. Since she wasn't expecting that she tumbled against his chest. He encircled her with his arms, pressing her close before raising her face to his and kissing her hungrily.

He tried to tell himself to stop, to think, but it was useless. He didn't want to stop; he didn't want to think. He'd waited and waited and waited for this, and now that it was happening he didn't want to be the strong, sensible one. He wanted to keep running his hands over her bare skin, he wanted to keep kissing her senseless. He wanted her.

Lorelai broke away, gasping, and clumsily stood up. "OK. There's got to be someplace. A coatroom. A storeroom. Someplace!" She looked around frantically.

The word 'storeroom' conjured up one of his favorite fantasies. It was late, and he was back in the diner's storeroom for some reason, and suddenly Lorelai was there, dressed in the jeans that made him swear under his breath when she wore them and that one tight v-neck sweater that went down 'way too low. Hey there, she'd say, seductively, can I use the box cutter thingy? He'd hold it up, enticingly, and say, Well, that's going to cost you, and she'd step over to him, pushing him back on the table and say, 'Well, maybe we can work out a payment plan…'

Suddenly, the real Lorelai pulled him up and plunged a hand into his pants pocket.

"Jesus, Lorelai!" he sputtered. "What are you doing?" He shifted away, trying to keep her questing fingers away from where he really wanted them.

"Keys," she muttered. "I mean, you drove, right? And your truck…" Her free hand made a level motion, attempting to indicate the bench seat. "Because my Jeep…" Her hand made two dipping motions. "Not so good," she said, shaking her head, continuing her search.

"Lorelai," he said desperately, trying to still her hand. Just then she pulled out a thin plastic card. Both of them stared at it.

"Um, what's this?" she asked.

Luke tried to get his brain to work again. "Room key," he gasped out.

Her smile started to light up her face again. "You have a room?" she asked, delighted. When he nodded, she leaned forward, kissing him quickly. "Luke Danes, you are the most amazing man!" She tipped back her head, laughing, before tucking her arm under his and tugging him back inside and down the hall to the elevators.

Lorelai pushed the up button and fidgeted impatiently while waiting for the elevator doors to open. Luke watched her, knowing that he should ask her, 'Are you sure?' but not wanting to chance stopping this. He knew he should ask. He knew he should make her stop and take a moment to reconsider what they were about to do. He knew it, but for once he wasn't strong enough to do what he knew he should. He tried, however. He looked at her, and opened his mouth, and willed himself to find the words.

Lorelai paused in her waiting-for-the-elevator dance and looked at him, taking in his conflicted body language. Her eyes softened and she leaned in closer to him, letting her hand stroke his tense jaw as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Yes, Luke," she whispered into his ear. "Yes, I'm sure."

The elevator doors opened and they tumbled inside. Luke pressed the seven button and then pressed Lorelai up against the shiny brass wall, kissing her like he'd been waiting six years to do just that.

She broke the kiss abruptly, confused when she felt the top of her dress loosen. She held it to her, realizing with a jolt of electric desire that Luke was pulling down her zipper. "Luke! Elevator!" she choked out, with a scandalized laugh. With a growl, he pulled the zipper back closed, his lips on her neck as he did so.

They reached their floor and stepped out, kissing their way down the hall. Luke pushed her aside long enough to get the door open. He held it ajar, motioning for Lorelai to step ahead of him.

She crossed the threshold and her dress fell to her feet. She looked down at the shiny pile of pink stupidly before stepping out from it. Somewhat taken aback, she muttered, "I'd heard tequila can make your clothes fall off, but I wasn't drinking tequila tonight." She glared back over her shoulder at Luke.

He grinned at her, impishly, totally pleased with himself. Then his eyes left her face and roamed over her body clad only in a strapless bra and tiny bikini panties. His eyes widened and he tried to breath. "Jeez, Lorelai, I shouldn't have…I'm sorry…I…" he gulped, shaking his head.

She stepped over to him quickly, taking his hands in hers. "Luke, it's fine," she said quietly. She kissed him gently, reassuringly. His hands started to caress her instantly, stroking all of her bare skin from the bottom of her bra to the tops of her panties. She shivered in delightful anticipation.

"You match," he pointed out, huskily. Her underwear was the same color as her dress.

She tried to steal enough focus away from how he was making her feel to find some words. "I knew it would drive my mother even crazier, if she knew. Not that she ever would. I never imagined that anyone would see my undies tonight. I never dreamed it would be you." She paused, swallowing hard. "I'm really glad it's you." She began to lean down to take off a shoe.

"Don't take off your shoes yet," he pleaded, whispering against her ear. "You look incredible."

He ran his hands up her arms and shoulders, to her neck, and then up into her hair. His long fingers found the pins holding up her curls and he began removing them one by one, dropping them carelessly to the floor. His fingers pulled her curls down over her shoulders.

"I like your curls," he said, softly.

"I'll remember that," she smiled.

He stopped and drew in a breath, his fingers griping her shoulders. "Will you, Lorelai? Will you remember this?"

She saw the uncertainty in his eyes then, and the fear, and she saw something else, too, something that she'd tried not to see for a long, long time. "I'll never forget this, Luke," she promised, sealing her words with a long, sweet kiss.

Her fingers had been busy as well, and as they broke the kiss she smiled, pushing his opened shirt over his shoulders and then starting to yank off his t-shirt. "What do you say we catch you up to the rest of the party now, huh?" She leaned against him and whispered into his ear, "I've always wanted to see what was under the flannel."

Hours later, Lorelai lay cuddled up against Luke, who was softly snoring. She was drowsy but not able or willing to fall asleep. Her blood was still throbbing through her; the electric thrill of what they'd discovered together was still coursing through her veins. She drew in a shaky breath and tried to catalog how she was feeling.

Remarkably, she was not in a panic. She wasn't worried, or anxious, or chastising herself for leaping without looking. Just being with Luke seemed to quell any misgivings. With Luke. She felt the goofy grin spread back over her face. She was with Luke. She was with Luke and she was happy. Contented. Sated. Completely satisfied. And something else. She frowned slightly, irritated at not being able to identify the emotion. It was something she'd felt before, she knew that. What was it?

A memory from when Rory was just a few weeks old popped into her head. They were snuggled into a rocking chair she'd finally persuaded a maid to help her move into her room. Rory had just finished nursing and she'd looked up into Lorelai's face with those startling blue eyes, smiling right into her mother's heart, all of those baby books be damned that said babies couldn't focus yet. For the first time her fear of making a mess of this mother thing subsided and she knew, she knew she'd be able to take care of this perfect little baby. A feeling of warm contentment and joy washed over her as she watched her little angel baby drift off to sleep.

Joy. That's what she was feeling now. Pure, absolute joy. The joy of having found something she didn't even know she was missing.

The effects of the alcohol had long worn away, but now drunk with joy she launched herself back on top of him. She laughed at his surprise as she pulled him out of sleep. She looked down at the man drowsily adoring her and she laughed joyfully. Lorelai lowered her head down close to his for a kiss, just moments away from becoming a Pez dispenser.