TITLE: Pact Like Sardines

AUTHOR: Connecticut Junkie

SPOILERS: Most of S3. Wonderful, fun, well-written season 3.

RATING: PG-ish

SUMMARY: Like heartburn, Lorelai also strikes without warning in the middle of the night. Takes place during the sleepover scene of "A Tale of Poes and Fire" or whatever the hell that episode was called. (I'm not looking it up. I've got better things to do.) Your basic bit of Luke/Lorelai fluff. You remember that, right? It's the thing that's been missing all season long.

NOTE: If Daniel Palladino can ignore the fact that Wal-Mart would be violating teen labor laws in order to make a story, then I can ignore the fact that Jess was in the room too in order to make a story. Tit for tat and all that jazz.

~~~~~~~

A few years of experience watching Trading Spaces allowed Lorelai to know that the rotary saw was generally the loudest piece of machinery they used. Luke snored like a rotary saw. A rotary saw with the switch stuck in the 'on' position.

She gathered her pillow and blanket and attempted to make base camp elsewhere, somewhere further from the summit of Mt. Snoresalot. Except there wasn't any place she could escape, since Luke's apartment had almost nothing in the way of a dividing wall.

There was the bathroom, but the thought of sleeping on the bathroom floor held all the appeal of a mayonnaise sandwich that had been left in the sun for a week. Luke didn't even have a bathtub she could sleep in, just a shower stall.

She could try sleeping on the counter in the diner, but the idea rolled right out of her mind when she pictured herself rolling right off the counter. So there was only one option left.

Luke had cut his hair, she noticed, as she stood over his sleeping form. In fact, she'd probably seen him more without his hat in the past few days than in all the years she'd known him. Uh oh. What if he was giving up the hat? He'd have no trademark. And then he'd just be that diner guy without a gimmick. Maybe she could help him find a new trademark.

And snoring would definitely not be it. She pinched his nose, cutting off his air supply. The snoring turned into sputtering and she let go, afraid of suffocating him. The snoring resumed. Lorelai poked him in the forehead.

"Quit it," she pleaded. She poked him a few more times when the snoring didn't subside. Luke brushed at her hand but didn't wake up. Lorelai decided a more drastic measure was needed.

"Okay, buddy, I didn't want it to come to this, but..." Lorelai dropped the pillow she was holding over his face. After a few seconds, Luke sat up, gasping for air.

"What?" he said, only it was a little more slurred with sleep and confusion. He looked around, trying to get a handle on the situation. Then noticed Lorelai standing next to the couch in her pajamas. "Were you trying to kill me?"

"You were snoring."

"And that's now a capital offense?"

"Quite possibly. In some country somewhere."

Luke threw the pillow back at her. "Go back to sleep."

Lorelai threw it back at him. "I can't. In case you missed my entire point, your snoring is loud enough to wake the dead. On the other hemisphere. Yep, King Tut's banging on his sarcophagus and demanding you keep it down or he'll have you turned into papyrus."

"Papyrus is made from reeds and not human flesh." Luke tried to lie back down.

"They can still try." Lorelai flopped down onto the side of the couch Luke had vacated, blocking his attempt to resume sleeping. Luke resisted the urge to smother her with the pillow in return.

"How am I supposed to sleep when you're taking up my area?"

"You can't. I'm gonna fall asleep here. Then, you can pick me up and put me back in the bed and resume sleeping yourself, and hopefully, since I'll be asleep, I won't notice your amazing snoring abilities."

"So go to sleep," Luke suggested, not willing to argue with her plan because she'd never give in and it would just keep her up even longer.

"But I'm not tired," she whined. "Oh!" she said, clapping her hands together, which Luke knew meant she'd had yet another one of her nonsensical ideas. "You can tire me out."

Luke blushed and avoided eye contact. "Um...I don't think that would be...proper," he said, kind of ashamed he'd even used the word 'proper.'

Lorelai turned an amused expression on him, and broke out into laughter when she saw the look on his face. "Okay, just because I had a dream where we were married and you stole my coffee it doesn't mean I want to sleep with you right now."

"Uh, thanks."

"No! I don't mean you're hideous or unattractive. I'm sure that sleeping with you would be really great. Top notch. And you realize that these things are just coming out of my mouth without being censored by my brain because I'm sleep deprived. Your fault. Totally."

"My apologies," Luke said without sincerity, and put one large hand on Lorelai's back. With a shove, she was relegated to the edge of the couch, and he reclaimed the cushion for his sleeping.

Lorelai was teetering precariously on the edge of the couch. "Hey! Move it, now, or I'm just gonna sit on your face."

About three tenths of a second after she said that, the full-on pornyness of her comment hit her. She sneeked a peek over her shoulder at Luke, who surprisingly had a big dumb grin on his face. "That's a real scary threat."

"Yeah, well I had no idea just how big of a pervert you really are."

Luke snatched the pillow from her grasp and tucked it back under his head. He closed his eyes. "There are lots of things about me you don't know."

"Really?" Lorelai asked, her interest peaked. She turned around so she was facing him, one leg hooked over the arm rest of the couch. Since his eyes were closed, she poked him to get his attention. "Like what?"

Luke refused to open his eyes. "Like how I've murdered several people who've kept me from getting a good night's sleep."

Lorelai gasped in faux surprise. "What did you do with the bodies?"

Luke opened one eye. "Let's just say I've got a certain clientele who'll eat just about anything."

"Naughty," Lorelai scolded, and pinched his arm. A part of her realized she was being awfully touchy with Luke. Another part of her realized he didn't seem to mind. And another part of her was wondering why she had so many parts and if it meant she was schitzo.

Luke didn't respond, just closed his eye and feigned sleep. Well, he wasn't getting off Lorelai's hook that easily. She leaned in, her lips close to his ear, and whispered, "So tell me what other naughty things you've done."

"In the morning," he mumbled, beginning to sound sleepy again.

"Now." Lorelai punctuated her demand with another poke of her finger.

"Do you have some kind of poking disease?" Luke asked as he brushed her hand aside.

"Yes. I have Poke-a-Luke Syndrome. Pokemon's Affliction. Pocahontas' Ailment. Polka-dot Disease." Another poke for each name she made up. Luke was still pretending like he wanted to sleep. She decided to approach from another angle.

"I told you about my dream with you, so now you have to tell me if you have dreams with me in them. Tit for tat."

"Of course I do," Luke honestly replied, blue eyes snapping open. Lorelai felt a strange coiling in her stomach. "Dreams are amalgams of things you see in daily life. And as your number one coffee supplier, I see more than my fair share of you."

"Did you just say 'amalgam'?"

"Yeah."

"It's like one in the morning. Who says 'amalgam' at one in the morning besides college dorks writing last minute English papers."

"I say it."

"Oh, because you say it then it must be true?"

"I did say it!"

"So now everyone in the world says 'amalgam' at one in the morning because you said it."

"You've said it three times so far, and I've only said it once."

"So tell me about them."

Luke's eyes closed again, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. Which he, in fact, did have. "About what?" He should have expected that Lorelai made even less sense in the middle of the night than she did during the day. Except that frankly, when he pictured himself with Lorelai in the middle of the night, they weren't doing much talking.

"About your amalgam dreams with me in them." She swung her leg off the arm of the couch since her foot had started to fall asleep and attempted to sit Indian-style, which meant her knees were now jabbing into Luke's ribs. With a huff, he rolled onto his side and moved so his back was against the cushions.

Instead of taking the hint, Lorelai just thought he was making even more room for her and scooted forward.

"I don't know," Luke began. "You're just there, spouting off some jabber about forks and coffee and penguins."

"Yes. But the big question is, am I wearing that super cute nightgown I had on in my dream with you? Because that was a great nightgown."

"You're usually not wearing anything."

"So I'm talking about penguins while I'm naked? Is that Freudian in any way?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Or maybe it's symbolic. Because penguins are naked too, but they have all that body fat to keep them warm, and their skin makes them look like they're wearing a tuxedo, and oh my god! You think I'm fat!"

"What? No."

"Yes! That's why I'm naked. Because I'm a fat, naked penguin. That's how you see me!"

Luke had to steer this conversation in a much saner direction. "So what were their names?"

"The penguins?"

"No, your twins. Our twins. Mary Kate and Ashley?"

"Why does it disturb me to know that you know the Olsen twins' names?"

"Because Jess works at Wal-Mart," Luke pointed out.

"That's right. I bought their shampoo out of mockery and ended up liking it. Don't tell Rory though."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Twins don't run in your family, do they?" Lorelai suddenly asked.

Luke's forehead furrowed as he thought about it. "Not that I know of."

"Did you know there isn't a gene for green eyes?" Lorelai blurted, seemingly at random. Although everything she said seemed to be at random to everyone who wasn't her.

"No, I didn't know that."

"They think there isn't.  Or at least, it's just speculated but they haven't found it," Lorelai explained, even though Luke had not asked nor cared for an explanation. "Rory had to do one of those genetic square assignment things for her bio class once. See, there's just a blue gene and a brown gene and when you get green it's because of the combination. Like how the milk in a bowl of Lucky Charms ends up pinkish even though there's like five colors of marshmallows."

"I'm not sure I'd understand that even if I was fully awake."

"I have both genes because Emily's eyes are brown but my dad's are blue. Chris has blue. And that's how Rory got her blue eyes. And your eyes are blue. They are blue right?"

Luke opened his eyes and resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be getting any sleep at all. Lorelai's face drew closer as she tried to make out his eye color in the dim light of the room. If she was just a fraction closer, and he turned his head...

No. Luke wouldn't let himself go there. Not while she was sleeping in the same room.

"Yep," Lorealai said, breathier than normal. Maybe she was thinking the same thing he was thinking. But she pulled back, and the moment was gone. "Blue."

"My mother had red hair," Luke blurted out, and he briefly worried if Lorelai's speaking habits were contagious.

"Was she Lucille Ball? Because that would be so cool."

"No. Sorry to disappoint you."

"You never disappoint me," Lorelai firmly stated, and patted his head for emphasis. Her fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, sweeping down to stroke the top of his ear before Lorelai realized what she was doing and pulled her hand back. What the hell had she been talking about? Oh yeah. "So our kids would probably have had blue eyes. Assuming that they were actual normal kids and that I wasn't pregnant with giant, fat penguins."

Luke sat up, hoping Lorelai would finally get at clue and realize he wanted to sleep.. "Look, I think I have some of those Tylenol P.M. pills somewhere. I'll be your best friend forever if you down half the bottle."

"Judy Garland wasn't your former best friend, was she? Because then I'll have to say no thanks."

"Then just go to sleep."

"I can't. Where do you keep the bottle?"

"Somewhere over the rainbow," Luke muttered, and threw his arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the light.

"Oh no, don't bother getting up to fetch them for your guest. I'll just go look for them myself. And root around in your personal belongings."

Luke rolled his eyes, although the gesture was missed on Lorelai because his eyes were both closed and covered by his arm. "In the medicine cabinet."

Lorelai got up and went to the medicine cabinet. Condoms. Luke had condoms in his medicine cabinet. How could he even have sex with Nicole when Jess was around all the time? Oh god. What if they belonged to Jess? Lorelai slammed the door closed and went back to the main room, unwilling to contemplate either of the possibilities in her mind. She and Rory did have The Talk, but it was still a raw nerve. And if they were Luke's...ew. Luke sex. Stupid Luke probably didn't even take his hat off.

Except he wasn't wearing his hat a lot nowadays. Ew. What if he was having sex all the time? What if Luke was some kind of nympho?

"Did you find them?" Luke asked when she returned, and Lorelai almost jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Uh, no. That's okay. I'll just count sheep. Like a New Zealand shepherd." Lorelai turned off the lamp and climbed back into Luke's bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She tried to analyze why Luke's relationship with Nicole secretly disturbed her. She also tried not to wonder if they'd had sex in the very bed she was lying in. Her conclusion was that she felt the same way about Luke and Nicole as she did when she got to the video store and the movie she had wanted was already rented out. The movie wasn't hers, it belonged to the store, and she had no say in the matter, but she still wanted it to be there for her.

That was it. Luke had potential. He was a potential rental in the vast store that was eligible men. And maybe she didn't want to rent him now, but she might at some later date. And an idea came to her. His breathing had started to slow, and become more regular. Before he fell asleep completely, she called out to him.

"What?" he answered, in a state of semi-awareness.

"Let's make a pact."

"A pact of silence?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Please?"

"You still haven't told me what this pact is. For all I know you could turn me into an indentured servant for the rest of my life."

"You already are my indentured servant."

"I am?"

"Yeah. You cook for me and perform menial tasks such as changing the water bottle."

"No chance on getting an Emancipation Proclamation?"

"Just because I own a top hat it doesn't make me Abe Lincoln."

"Does it make you a magician who can hypnotize people into going to sleep? Because I'd firmly support the idea of practicing on yourself. Right now."

"Taylor wanted to be a magician. If you want, I'll call him and have him come over he-"

"No!" Luke cut her off, quite firmly.

"So are you willing to make the pact or not?"

"I don't even know what this pact is." Then Luke had a flashback to a movie Rachel made him see where Julia Roberts learned about love while being funny. Which was probably every movie she made, but this one had a pact too. "Oh no. You're not gonna make me do one of those pacts where if we're not married by the time we're a certain age we'll marry each other."

"When did you get psychic powers? Quick- give me the lottery numbers for tomorrow. What's Miss Patty wearing to bed right now? What does Taylor dream about?"

"So it is one of those stupid pacts."

"Yes and no. Yes it is one of those pacts, and no it's not stupid. It's planning ahead. It's security. All the things we need in this modern, crazy world."

"You're crazy."

"Aw. Sweet talk," Lorelai cooed. "But that's not necessary. Not when we have the pact."

"Stop saying that word."

"What, pact?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Then definitely no."

"Okay. Then we'll call it an arranged marriage if you're not keen on the word 'pact'. If we're not married by the time we're forty, we'll marry each other."

"I'm thirty-eight," Luke pointed out.

"So?"

"So, that's only two years from now, Einstein."

"Dude, Einstein failed math so shut your gob."

"How about by the time you turn forty?"

Lorelai gasped. "All that protestation but in the end you cave like a whiny Frenchman."

"Actually, since that's five years from now, the odds are in my favor that you'll be dead by that time. Considering the way you eat and your lack of anything resembling exercise. So I wouldn't have to live up to the pact anyhow. Because you wouldn't." And at this, Luke chuckled.

Lorelai gave him a horrified look. "First off, don't chuckle. It frightens me. And second, don't pun. You don't do it well."

"And you wonder why I don't want to marry you. What with all the sweetness and love emanating from your being."

"Who says 'emanating' at one-thirty in the morning?"

Luke groaned. "Not this again."

"Say yes, then, and I won't pontificate on the emanating."

"Who says pontificate?"

"People who say emanating and amalgam," Lorelai pointed out.

"Okay. I'll agree to your pact if you agree to my pact."

"Which is?" Lorelai asked, intrigued.

"That you shut up and let me get some sleep."

Lorelai thought about it. "I'm not sure if that's a fair trade. All I get is to be Mrs. Baseball Hat, but I have to give up my now infamous loquaciousness." She stuck her tongue out at him even though she wasn't sure he could see it in the dark. "I can use big words too."

"Kudos to you," Luke responded, full of sarcarsm.

"Mmm. Kudos. Do you have any in the cupboard?"

"No. Go to sleep."

"Only if you agree."

Luke heaved a hefty sigh. "Fine. If we're both not married by the time you hit forty, assuming the 10 percent probability that you're still alive, then we'll get married."

"Yay!" Lorelai clapped. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"That you're now contractually obligated to shut up?"

"It means that if either of us gets sent to the Big House, we're entitled to conjugal visits."

"Not if the reason I'm sent there is because I killed you in a fit of insomnia-related madness."

"Aw. That's like a touching Hallmark Serial-Killer moment. I wonder if they make cards for that."

"No, but if you go to sleep you can dream that they do."

There was a blissful silence for about two seconds. "Hey, we never swore on our pact our signed a legally binding contract."

"Tomorrow morning you'll order breakfast and we can swear on the stack of pancakes."

"Okay. I'm placated."

"Who says placated at one-forty five in the morning?"

"Quiet, you. I'm getting sleepy."

"Thank God."

Almost a full minute of silence passed before Lorelai gave in to the need to have the last word. "Mr. Luke Gilmore," she teased him. Her only response was a snore. "Mrs. Lorelai Danes," she whispered to herself, and in the darkness of his apartment, she had to admit that it had a nice ring to it.

-end-