Author's Note: Ready for a multi-chapter story? This takes place during mid-season 1. Lorelai doesn't give Max a second chance, and Rachel is not going to get that sudden urge to visit Connecticut.

Chapter 1: (Not) Written in the Stars

It was 10:17 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, the first day that had held a promise of spring. Lorelai slowed her pace as she approached the diner. She had put a great deal of thought into this for the last ten days, and had thought of nearly nothing else for the last eight. She had laid awake for hours last night, going over and over the list in her head and tweaking the words she planned to use on him. She was prepared. She was ready.

She glanced in through the window and saw that she was correct in her assumption that this would be a perfect time to have a discussion with Luke. The morning lull seemed to be in full-force. No one was at the counter at all, and she could only see two tables where anyone was seated.

She checked her appearance one last time. Her black suit was business-like but fun, with a pale pink pinstripe. Her silky blouse was the same pale pink. The skirt was short enough to show off her legs, but not so short that she looked cheap. Her hair was straight and pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail.

For some reason she'd thought it important that she looked serious for this meeting. She wanted him to know she wasn't taking this lightly.

Squaring her shoulders, she started up the steps to the door. She frowned slightly as she looked down at the peep-toe black pumps she had on, the ones with the little pink bow on the back that matched her suit perfectly. Were they too frivolous?

Don't be silly, she told herself firmly, marching in through the door. He likes you frivolous.

She couldn't spot Luke at all. Fighting nerves, she stood at the end of the counter, waiting.

After a minute or two Luke came rushing out of the kitchen, carrying steaming plates over to the couple at the one table. He made small talk for a moment before finally turning around and spotting Lorelai.

He moved behind the counter and grabbed the coffee pot automatically. "You need it to go?" he asked, assuming that's why she was standing there.

"Actually, Luke, no. That's―That's not why I'm here," she smiled nervously as she stumbled over the words. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Sure," he shrugged. He motioned for her to go ahead.

"Um, I, uh, I was really hoping we could talk in private." Another nervous smile.

Luke's eyebrows rose as he looked at her speculatively. "In private?" he repeated.

"Yeah." Lorelai stuck her hands into her jacket pockets to keep herself from wringing her fingers. "This probably isn't a discussion you want to have down here."

Luke didn't answer. His face didn't change expression. Lorelai shifted from one foot to the other, waiting.

Finally, "Caesar! I'm goin' upstairs for a minute!" he called out.

"OK, Boss!" Caesar replied.

They walked over to the curtain that separated the diner from the stairs, and Luke pushed it aside and motioned for Lorelai to go ahead of him. She started up the stairs briskly, realizing that this was the first time she'd ever been invited up to his apartment. She worried a little about the fact that he was getting a good view of her backside and was incredibly grateful she hadn't chosen a shorter skirt.

She pressed up against the wall beside the door with "Office" painted on the frosted glass so that Luke could unlock the door. She admired the beautiful woodwork of this upstairs hallway. Almost everything downstairs in the diner was painted and she had no idea that the craftsmanship of this building was so beautiful.

Luke opened the door and again motioned for her to enter. Her quick eyes darted around, taking in the plaid flannel throw on the sofa, the protein drink mix on the counter, the―and here her eyes grew wide―the single bed clearly visible. So much mocking potential! But that wasn't today's agenda, so she bit down on all of the comments dying to come out.

"Do you want iced tea?" Luke asked, heading over to the refrigerator. "Or I could make hot tea, if you'd rather have that."

"No, uh, thanks, but I don't need anything."

Again, Luke looked at her strangely, and pushed shut the refrigerator door. "Well, have a seat then," he said, and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs.

"Um, no, thanks. I think I'll do better standing." Lorelai tried to laugh lightly, but it just showed more than anything how nervous she was.

With a sigh, Luke dropped down on the chair he'd pulled out. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You need money," he said knowingly.

"I…No. No, I don't need money!" Lorelai was staring at him, shocked.

"OK," he said mildly. "You don't need money."

"No. I…" The more she thought about it, the more irritated his smug comment was making her. "Why would you assume I need money? Do I look like I need money? Why would you say that!"

"Well," he said, shrugging, "Chilton's expensive. You went to your parents for that. I just thought maybe something else came up."

"No, something else did not come up!" she said hotly. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of finances for me and for Rory! I run a business, you know, and I've managed to provide for us just fine for the past 15 years! You know that, Luke!"

"Fine," he said, still calm. "So what it is, then?"

"I…I…" She floundered around, trying to find the start of her carefully rehearsed words. Luke's unexpected comment about money had totally thrown her off her script. "It just…It seems…You and I have been friends for a long time now."

He nodded, agreeing with that.

"And sometimes…Sometimes it seems like we're more than friends." She'd started pacing, and now she turned to look at him quickly, noting his still impassive face. "Sometimes we have these…moments…when it seems like there's something more."

He made no comment.

She drew a deep breath and plunged on. "The first one I remember wasn't very long after we started coming to the diner. Rory got really excited about something and spun around on her stool, and I thought she was going to go over backwards, and apparently you thought the same thing, because we ended up smushed together behind her. And even though she was fine, we spent this…moment…pressed up against each other." She chanced a look at Luke, but he was staring down at the floor at his feet, making no indication that he remembered it at all.

She swallowed hard and continued. "And then, there was a Fourth of July, when I was heading towards the square, and you were standing on the steps outside the diner. I came up to try and talk you into going to the fireworks, and of course, you were all, 'No, Lorelai, I don't do those crazy town things' and I was all 'Come on, Luke, Fourth of July fireworks don't really count as a crazy town thing' and while we were arguing the first firework went off, and we both tilted our heads back at the same time to watch it, and we sort of leaned against each other, and it just seemed like maybe…"

She trailed off, since Luke's facial expression still hadn't changed. She decided she needed to sum up, quickly.

"And then, ten days ago, I went on a date with Jackson's crazy cousin Rune," she stated, suddenly calm. "You and I played poker, and we talked, and we had a good time. I was 99% sure you were going to ask me out," she declared, boldly.

His shoulders gave a slight twitch at that, but he didn't reply.

Her stubbornness was kicking in now. "Eight days ago I came into the diner, convinced you were going to ask me out. But you didn't," she pointed out. She waited in vain for him to speak.

She sighed. "OK." She pulled up all of her remaining courage. "I just thought that if there was something between us, we should try to find out what it is. I mean, you've felt them, too, right? All of these moments between us?"

He uncrossed his arms, pressing his fingers against the tabletop. He cleared his throat and stared at the table.

"No," he said.

Lorelai heard herself gasp out loud. "I…You…No, huh? I see. No." Her brain was spinning madly, possibly because the earth's rotation seemed out of whack. "OK, then. Well, I'm glad I brought this up." She was desperate to put some sort of good face on this. "I mean, this way I won't waste anymore time thinking that there's something there that isn't. So, good. Good talk."

Luke looked uneasy. "Lorelai, I―"

"No, no, it's OK." She flashed him what she hoped was her usual smile. "No, this was good, Luke. Thanks. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. Really. Thanks!"

She nodded at him madly and bolted for the door. She clattered down the steps in her cute shoes and dashed across the diner floor and was out the door so quickly that she didn't even notice if anyone was still in the diner or not. She dove into the Jeep and pressed hard on the gas, frantic to get away from the scene of her humiliation. Halfway to the Independence Inn she pulled over onto a quiet side street and parked, breathing hard.

The leftover adrenaline surge from her flight was making her shaky. She rubbed her hands, trying to calm herself.

She'd practiced and practiced what she was going to say to him. She'd tried on seven outfits before she'd settled on this one. She'd run through numerous scenarios about what could happen once she dropped this bombshell on him, including several that were definitely rated 'M' for 'Mature.'

The one thing she'd never considered was that Luke Danes would tell her no.

Later that afternoon, Seth, one of the high-schoolers Luke employed part-time at the diner, noticed that his boss had been standing motionless at the table by the window for at least five minutes. Cautiously he approached him.

"Hey, Boss, you OK?" he questioned, nervously ready to jump back if needed.

Luke jerked, startled. "Yeah, Seth, I'm fine," he sighed. He watched as the kid went back to filling the napkin dispensers.

"I'm just the world's biggest idiot," he muttered to himself, once again staring out the window.

Sitting in the Jeep that night, Lorelai looked at the distance she'd need to cover to get inside her house. Somehow it just seemed like that was too much to ask of her body. She'd managed to make it through the day, although she really wasn't sure how. Most of her brainpower was still processing the scene that had unfolded upstairs in Luke's apartment. She felt her cheeks blaze again when humiliation broke over her once more. How could she have been so wrong?

She turned on her autopilot and headed to the house. The one thing she was thankful about was that for once she'd managed to keep her plans to herself. She hadn't confided in Rory or Sookie, so her humiliation was hers alone. All she'd have to do would be to keep on going to the diner and pretend like nothing had changed.

Oh, yeah, she mocked herself, easy.

She closed the door behind her and stood in the entry for a moment or two, just rubbing her forehead and preparing herself to face Rory without letting everything leak out about what she'd done that day.

A sudden tap on the door made her jump. Frowning, she looked at the outline of the person on the other side of the frosted glass. The knock had come so quickly after she entered the house, it almost seemed like whoever it was had been watching for her to come home.

"Yes?" she called out suspiciously, through the glass.

"Hey, Lorelai, it's me. Luke." He sounded like he wasn't quite sure of it.

She pulled open the door, clearly puzzled.

His gaze swept over her quickly before landing down at her feet. "I was just thinking. About what you said today." He shifted his weight, ill at ease.

"We can just forget it, Luke," she said, tiredly.

He nodded, and cleared his throat. "Well, I was just wondering…What did you have in mind?"

Irritation flooded her. "I assumed we'd just go at it right here in the foyer," she snapped. He sighed and looked pained, and she relented, rolling her eyes.

"A date, Luke. I thought we'd go on a date."

Surprisingly, that made him look even more pained. "A date? I really hate going on dates," he muttered.

"Well, they're not my favorite thing either, but unfortunately, that's the route society expects us to go to find our soul mates," she informed him. "So are you in?" she challenged him.

He gave it some thought as he removed his cap, rubbed his head, and replaced the cap. "Sure," he said, sounding more decisive. "Let's try it."

She felt a smile break out over her face, in spite of his lack of enthusiasm. "When?" she asked.

It looked like he had to catch his breath at the smile. "How about Sunday?" he proposed.

"Sunday's good," she agreed.

"OK." He was suddenly very nervous. "I'll, uh…We'll talk more about the details. I mean, you'll be in the diner tomorrow, right?"

"Sure," she said, still grinning like a fool. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded and left the porch, heading back to town.

Lorelai shut the door, her attitude completely changed from when she had first entered the house.

"Rory!" she yelled, running towards her daughter's room. "Rory! What 'til you hear what Mommy's doing Sunday night!"

The atmosphere in the old green Chevy pickup truck heading towards Middletown that Sunday evening could be summed up in one word: Nervous. Or maybe two words: Not good. Or maybe even a short sentence: What the hell was I thinking?

Lorelai looked even prettier than normal. Under her coat she was wearing a blue and green print dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her curls bounced on her shoulders and dress-up heels were on her feet. Luke wasn't sure, but he thought she had on more make-up than normal. Knowing that she had dressed up for him was scaring him to death.

For her part, Lorelai was savoring Dressed-Up Luke. She'd always figured that if she ever saw him in something other than flannel and jeans she'd be speechless, and that belief was being proven true tonight. She knew he was still Normal Luke underneath the strange jacket and the dress shirt and tie, but his bare head was short-circuiting something in her brain that would normally be in charge of banter.

Taking a deep breath, Lorelai plunged into small-talk land. She tried topic after topic, only to have Monosyllabic Man grunt a few words and bat the topic down. Anxious to have anything to cut through the tense atmosphere in the truck, she reached for the radio.

He batted her hand away. "Don't do that."

"We can't listen to music?" she asked, trying not to glare at him.

"It's an old truck." He tried to explain. "Old trucks have quirks. The radio's one of them. It gets exactly three stations, and I can guarantee none of them's anything you want to listen to."

"Are you making that up?" she asked suspiciously.

"Maybe," he said, smiling for one of the first times since he'd picked her up.

She smiled too.

Luke signaled and turned into the parking lot of a restaurant. The rowboat beached up against the entry, the lighthouse replica built against the side, and the fake seagulls placed permanently on the roof were a dead giveaway to what sort of restaurant it was, even without the "Clem's Fish Shack" sign painted over the door.

Lorelai's forehead creased. "Um, is this a seafood place?"

"Very good," Luke told her. "Next you'll be able to figure out who's buried in Grant's Tomb."

She shut her mouth and decided not to zing him for that. "It's just I'm not really a seafood lover."

Luke frowned. "Well, this is one of my favorite places. I made reservations."

Lorelai tried to be understanding instead of disappointed. "Oh, sure, then. OK. I'll try it."

They were seated quickly. Lorelai's displeasure increased as she scanned the menu and found that the non-seafood offerings were very slim.

A waiter came to take their orders. Lorelai told Luke to go ahead as she was still trying to find something edible. He ordered a salad and some sort of grilled fish she'd never heard of before. Then it was her turn.

"I'll take the steak," she finally decided.

Luke scowled at her. "You can't order steak in a seafood place, Lorelai."

"I don't want seafood, Luke," she tried to say pleasantly, smiling at the waiter.

"Here." He leaned over and pointed at an item on the menu. "Try this shrimp. It's really good."

"I don't want shrimp." She was still trying to be polite. "I want a piece of dead cow. Medium well, please." She smiled again at the waiter.

"Salad?" the young man asked her, his pen poised over the pad.

Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head, still perusing the menu.

"You should have a salad," Luke told her.

Maybe he didn't mean to sound so self-righteous when he said that. Maybe he didn't mean to be a self-appointed member of the health police. But his tone managed to tip Lorelai right over into what-else-can-I-do-to-bug-Luke mode.

She closed her menu and bestowed one of her dazzling smiles on the young waiter. "What I'd really like," she said, her voice as sultry as possible, "is French fries and a baked potato. Is there any way you can make that happen?"

The waiter visibly gulped. "S-Sure," he stuttered. "I'm s-sure that's possible."

"Thanks," Lorelai smiled, giving him a little wink.

"That's what you're eating? Nice," Luke said sarcastically, picking on her food choice instead of the way it rankled him that she had to flirt with the waiter in front of him. "Your cardiologist will thank you someday, when he's enjoy the ocean breeze in the cabana your angioplasty paid for."

"Then we'll all be happy," Lorelai said, grabbing for her martini and taking a big swig. So far, this night was not going the way she thought it would.

She watched as Luke stared down at the table. He took a deep breath and seemed to give himself a pep talk. When he looked at her again, he appeared more relaxed.

"So," he asked, his voice carefully modulated to a pleasant tone, "what's Rory up to tonight?"

She smiled genuinely at him, pleased that he was making the effort to get them back on the nice-date track. "Well, it's Sunday night, so she and Dean will get together to do some studying." She used air-quotes around the 'studying.'

He had been reaching to take a drink of his beer, but he stopped abruptly. "They're together?"

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"At his house?" he asked.

"No, at ours." She frowned at him. "What's wrong?"

Luke was getting increasingly agitated. "You left them alone? At your house? Are you crazy?"

"No," she said shortly, giving him a sharp look that she hoped conveyed that he needed to keep his mouth shut on this topic.

Apparently those sorts of looks didn't work on him.

"Lorelai, you better than anyone else should know what 16-year-old boys are after. And you still left her alone with him? What's wrong with you?"

"First off," she said, her tone so icy that it was a wonder the water in their glasses didn't freeze, "Rory is not me. She's a brilliant, capable girl who knows exactly what she wants out of life, and no boyfriend is going to get in the way of that, no matter how gorgeously floppy his hair is. Second, I trust her and I trust Dean. Unlike my parents, I've talked about this stuff with her for years. And third, if they're going to do it, my being there is going to make very little difference. Rory was conceived on the balcony outside my bedroom in-between the soup and salad courses while both sets of parents were in the dining room. Satisfied? Or do you want more details?" She taunted him.

Luke pressed his lips together and held up his hand, indicating he'd heard enough.

Both of them sought refuge in their drinks until Luke's salad arrived.

Lorelai started to decimate the bread basket, slathering a roll with butter.

"You're going to spoil your dinner," Luke muttered to her, spearing a radish with savage intensity.

"No, I'm not," Lorelai said with a sickening sweet voice, adding an extra swirl of butter.

"Suit yourself," he grunted.

Their entrees arrived and it soon became clear, as Lorelai poked forlornly at her steak, that it didn't meet her expectations.

"No good?" he asked her, sounding superior as he picked up another bite of his fish.

"It's just…" she looked around, in vain, for their waiter. "It's a little more rare than I like. I prefer my dead cow to be really dead."

He looked at her aghast, as she motioned the waiter over. "You're not going to send it back," he hissed at her.

"Sure I am," she insisted. "I can't eat it like this. And I'm the customer. They want me to be happy."

"Lorelai," he said, warningly, but by then the waiter was there.

"Is there a problem?" the young man asked, scanning their table.

"Hey, Jeff," Lorelai said amiably, of course knowing the waiter's name. "Not really a problem. Not even a problem-let. Would it be possible for you to stick this back under the broiler for another minute or two?"

"No problem at all," Jeff decreed, and instantly snatched Lorelai's plate, bearing it back off to the kitchen.

"See?" Lorelai said smugly to Luke.

He shook his head at her, grinding his teeth in irritation. "You just always have to have your own way, don't you?"

She arched her eyebrows at him. "And there's something wrong with that?"

He lowered his eyes back to his plate and started sawing through his broccoli. "No, of course not," he said snidely. He gave a disgusted, short laugh. "I really don't know why I thought tonight would change that fact at all."

She raised her head regally, tossing back her hair, and defiantly reached for another roll.

Luke pulled his truck behind her car. They sat for a minute in the same utter silence that had pricked at them all the way home from the restaurant. Finally Luke gave a sigh and turned off the engine, reaching to open his door.

"Don't bother." Lorelai grabbed his arm, stopping him from exiting the truck. "It's OK, Luke. I think we've put enough into this charade. You don't need to walk me to my door."

He nodded, slumping back against the seat. "It was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

"Well, being on the Titanic for a first date might have been a little worse, but yeah, it was bad." She tried to be upbeat. "But at least now we know, right? We tried. No more of those 'what if' questions swimming around our heads."

"Yeah." He leaned his head back against the seat.

She maneuvered so that she could look more into his face. "And this won't change anything with us, right? We'll still be friends. I'll be in the diner tomorrow just like normal, and you can tell me all about the state of my arteries, and life will go on, right?"

"Right," he agreed, trying to smile, even though his eyes looked sad.

"OK, then," she said, trying to sound upbeat. She offered him her hand.

He took it and gave it a squeeze, holding it in his for a few moments longer.

She stared at their hands. She used all of her senses and beamed them at their linked hands, trying hard to feel some sort of tingle. But…nothing. There was nothing there.

"Thanks for dinner, Luke," she said smoothly, pulling back her hand and reaching for the door. "Thanks for being willing to try this with me."

"No problem," he said hollowly, giving her a wave as she started for her door.

Lorelai stepped inside and headed immediately for the couch. She let her body fall back onto it, her head landing with a desolate thud against the back. She let her eyes close and she sat there, unmoving, until Rory came to investigate.

"You're back early," Rory observed. She plopped down on the couch next to her mother, carefully holding her dish of ice cream so it didn't make a mess. "Did Luke need to get back to the diner?"

"No," she said, swallowing hard.

Rory frowned, and pushed at Lorelai's foot with one of hers. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Lorelai continued to sit there with her eyes closed. "One time," she started, "I let this guy talk me into a date. I think you were about in third grade. His dad was doing some work at the Inn, and he was helping. He drove a vintage red '65 Mustang convertible. I'd always wanted to ride in a red Mustang convertible." She finally opened her eyes and looked at Rory, but otherwise she stayed motionless. "It turned out his idea of a hot date was taking me to the mini-mart for a Coney dog and then finding someplace to go parking. Luckily for me, his Coney dog made him sick and he threw up all over the side of his Mustang. I ended up hitching a ride back to town with Gypsy." She sighed. "And up until tonight, I thought that was the world's worst date."

Rory's eyes were wide. "Luke wanted to go parking? Or Luke got sick?"

"No." Lorelai laughed, just a little, and to her horror, she felt tears trickling out of her eyes.

"Aw, Mom, what's wrong?" Rory sat her ice cream down and leaned forward, putting her hands comfortingly on Lorelai's knees. "What happened?" she asked, concerned.

Again, Lorelai tried to laugh as she scrubbed at her eyes, not caring about the mascara and eyeliner she was dislodging. "I know this is so stupid, Rory, but I just can't help it." For a moment she let her mouth quiver and let some bitter tears flow. Rory sat patiently waiting, gently rubbing her mom's knee.

"You know what it's like when you get one of those really nice boxes of chocolates, like maybe at Valentine's Day?" Lorelai finally felt composed enough to venture.

"Um, Godiva," Rory murmured.

Lorelai nodded. "And as soon as you lift the lid, you see one piece that you know is going to be the best. Maybe it's wrapped up in gold foil, or it's got an extra swirl of chocolate on top, but you know it's the premier piece. And maybe you don't do it intentionally, but you save that piece for last. And it doesn't matter when you get the toffee that sticks your teeth together, or the weird chewy piece that you can't get rid of, because you know you've got that special one waiting for you." Lorelai took a deep breath, and shook her head, still ashamed that she was letting this defeat her. "So finally the day comes, and you bite into that last piece. And it's a lemon crème," she said, darkly.

"Ew," Rory agreed.

"All these years, I really thought Luke was wrapped up in gold foil, just waiting on me," Lorelai admitted, slowly. "I thought when I finally decided to unwrap him, it'd be all unicorns and rainbows, you know? I thought…I thought he was going to be it."

Rory bit her lip, deflecting the temptation to point out the dirty element in what her mom had just said, because it was about Luke, and her mom, and….Ew.

"So Luke's a lemon crème?" she asked instead, trying not to laugh, because she could see that her mom truly was upset.

"You know all that cutesy stuff we say to each other in the diner, like we can't stand each other?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it turns out that's all true. We really can't stand each other. We have nothing in common. We drive each other crazy. It's not an act."

"But you and Luke really are friends," Rory protested. "You like each other."

"Maybe." Lorelai sighed. "But there's nothing else there. I held his hand tonight, Rory," she admitted. "I wanted to feel something, you know? But there was absolutely nothing there. No sparks, no fireworks, no passion whatsoever. It could have been Taylor."

"Now you're just trying to gross me out," Rory complained.

Lorelai forced herself to stand and forlornly started to shuffle towards the stairs.

"Are you going to be all right?" Rory worriedly asked her.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Lorelai sighed, resigned. "I just need to wallow for awhile."

"Is wallowing a singular activity?" Rory asked, more than willing to help out her mom.

"For tonight, yeah, I think it is," Lorelai said, pulling herself up the stairs. "But thanks, Kid."

Rory watched her mom sadly go upstairs. She picked her ice cream back up, licking off the spoon. She grabbed for the TV remote, preparing to find something to watch. "Hey, Mom, everything's still going to be normal between Luke and us, right? We can still go to the diner and everything, right?"

Lorelai paused at the top of the stairs. "Of course. We didn't have a fight or anything. We just didn't...click." She gave a weak wave towards Rory and continued to her room, anxious to remove all traces of the disastrous date from her body.

TBC...