A/N: This is my submission for the Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda ficathon challenge. This is how I would have hooked these two crazy kids up in my assigned episode, Concert Interruptus. Special thanks to Robinpoppins and Filo for organizing the madness, and to Secretly Reading, Truelovepooh and Filo for their feedback on this story. It's not the 840 pages that I threatened, but I have managed to sit on this egg for over a month, waiting for the ficathon to hatch. I hope that you enjoy Don't Interrupt Us.

She's Got Annie Oakley Eyes

Lorelai sat at the counter at Luke's talking to Rory and wearing her new for her, but slightly used, leopard print Coyote Ugly cowgirl hat and the sparkly sweatshirt that she insisted had 'Lorelai' written all over it. She was fending off Rory's commentary when the next thing she knew, Luke was standing in front of them holding a coffee pot and completely freaking out. "What the hell do you think you're wearing?" he demanded.

"A hat," she answered with a smile.

"Take that off," he said angrily.

"What?" she asked, shooting Rory a sidelong glance.

Luke pointed at her and said, "Now that is not yours, take it off."

"But I'll have hat hair," Lorelai said incredulously.

"I'm talking about the sweatshirt," he said, his voice rising in anger as his eyes stayed locked on the garment in question.

"Luke calm down," Lorelai said, turning to Rory for support, but finding the stool next to hers empty.

"That is not yours," Luke said adamantly.

"No, I found it in the bags of stuff for the sale," Lorelai said as she glanced around nervously and found herself completely alone with the angry diner owner.

"Oh, so you just find something and then you take it is that it?" he demanded.

"No, I paid for it," she said indignantly.

"Oh, so that makes it alright," he scoffed.

Lorelai shook her head and said, "It makes it legal. What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing is the matter," he said as he slammed the coffee pot down on the counter and circled around the end of it.

"Luke..." Lorelai started to say.

"Take it off, or I'm taking it off of you," he warned in a low, dangerous voice.

"But, Luke," she protested even as she turned toward him.

He reached for the zipper, grazing her breast with his fingers as he lifted the tab and began to jerk it down. "It's not yours," he said as he pushed her back against the counter. "It's hers, damn it," he said as he pressed his lips to hers in a crushing kiss. He stood between her legs, pressing into her until the counter bit into her back, punishing her with his lips and tongue as he yanked the sweatshirt off of her shoulders pinning her arms to her sides. Lorelai barely had time to recover from the shock before she found herself winding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, pressing up into the solid bulk of his body. The bells chimed and Kirk called out, "Luke, I need a tuna melt on wheat, please," as he stepped obliviously into the diner.

Luke broke the kiss abruptly and whispered, "It's not yours, Lorelai. It's Rachel's." He stepped back from her and said in a harsh voice, "You'll never be Rachel."

Lorelai sat straight up in bed, shaking her head, trying to dispel the dregs of the disturbing dream as her heart hammered in her chest. She reached up and pushed the mass of tangled curls back from her damp forehead as she looked around the room blankly. First, she caught sight of the alarm clock lying on the floor by the wall in pieces. Then she saw the black leather pants she had worn to the Bangles concert the night before draped over the chair, right beside – it. She sat still in the center of the bed, staring at the rhinestone studded sweatshirt. The same sweatshirt that just minutes ago, Luke had been forcibly removing from her person. She had to glance down just to be sure that she was wearing the cloud pajamas she had put on the night before.

"Elle McPherson pretty," she muttered as she scooted off of the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. She looked into the mirror and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. "I'm not jealous," she whispered to her reflection. She turned on the taps with a flick of her wrists and said in a stronger voice, "I'm not." She splashed water onto her face, trying to erase the memory of how his dream kisses tasted, the feel of his lips hard, hot and demanding on hers, the tickle of that little patch of beard below his lip and his hands, big and strong, pushing the sweatshirt roughly from her body. She looked up slowly, water dripping from her chin and eyelashes and murmured, "Oh my God." She pressed the hand towel to her face and whispered, "Get a grip, Gilmore. It's Luke."

She lowered the towel slowly and whispered softly, "Oh no, no, no. You are not doing this." She looked up and met her own gaze in the mirror. "You are not going to start obsessing over Luke," she told herself, "He's Luke, your friend. And he'll never be anything more than a friend, ever," she said firmly. She dropped the towel on the vanity and turned toward the tub. She started the water running, and waited impatiently for it to warm up before she stripped out of her pajamas and stepped into the hot spray.

By the time she finished her shower, she was feeling better. She was back in control, back to normal, or almost normal. She quickly went through her scaled down weekend makeup and hair routine and dressed for her outing to the rummage sale. She went downstairs and poked her head into Rory's room, only to find it empty, the bed neatly made, a stack of books sitting on her nightstand precisely aligned with the edge of the table. She turned and saw that Rory had left her some coffee in the pot, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she would not have to go into Luke's that particular morning. She dropped her Pop Tarts into the toaster and poured a mug of coffee. While she waited for her breakfast to warm, she tapped her nails against the ceramic mug and wondered idly if Luke was really into the Elle McPherson kind of pretty, all tawny curls and legs a mile long. She glanced down at her own denim clad legs and studied them critically, and jumping when the toaster popped and her breakfast sprang into view.

With a disgusted shake of her head, she dropped the Pop Tarts onto a paper towel and carried them to the table. She ate distractedly, breaking off bits and pieces and carrying them to her mouth on auto-pilot. She couldn't really figure out why this was bothering her so much. She could blame the dream, but in all honesty, she had been thinking about it ever since Sookie and Patty first mentioned Rachel's name. She needed more info. Once she knew what had really happened with them, maybe her curiosity would be satisfied, and she could let it drop. Stupid curiosity. That was all it was, she thought with a nod.

But where could she get more information without arousing suspicions? She knew she couldn't pump Sookie for more information, her antennae were already up. She knew that she had to be careful, because contrary to popular belief, she wasn't as oblivious to Luke's interest as she liked to let on. She had seen the spark of jealousy in his eyes when she told him that the dad from Chilton had asked her out. She could admit to herself that her own interest had been piqued for a while now. Sookie had made many, many comments about Luke having a 'thing' for her. Of course, when Lorelai first mentioned Luke in anything other than a friendly way, Rory quickly put the kibosh on that, pointing out that if she dated Luke and they broke up, they couldn't eat at Luke's anymore. She insisted that she date Al instead, because his food sucked. Then there were her mother's comments at both Rory's birthday party and the hospital. It also didn't help that on both occasions, Lorelai had found herself wrapped in Luke's embrace, once in acceptance of her gratitude, the other offering comfort and solace.

She knew that in a way, Rory was right. She was a dating disaster waiting to happen, and Luke was far too important to them, as more than just their food purveyor, to be trifled with. But, no matter how hard she pushed them down and tried to ignore them, she couldn't just make the feelings go away. The way her heart began to beat a little faster when he leaned in close to her in Doose's while they spied on Dean. She could smell him, the scent of bacon and fried foods, mixing with some kind of woodsy aftershave or cologne, and that slightly musky scent of man. But wait, she thought with a jolt, Luke hardly ever shaves, why would he use aftershave? Is it possible that Luke just smells like that? she wondered as she crumbled a bit of Pop Tart crust between her fingers. She shook her head violently to dislodge the thought before it took up residence in her brain and became her new obsession of the day.

No, this attraction between her and Luke wasn't a new thing. And it wasn't a big thing, like an anvil dropping out of the sky and falling on her head. It was a bunch of little things. There were thousands of little looks, hundreds of flirty comments and a handful of heart fluttering smiles exchanged each week. There were confidences exchanged at unexpected times, words of support offered when it felt like her legs were cut out from under her, and laughter. The snarky comments that always made her giggle, even if it was just on the inside, and the easy mockery that marked their every exchange. God, she loved that. Sometimes she even caught herself thinking about it as socially acceptable foreplay. She wondered idly if Luke got a little chattier when he was naked.

Crumbling the paper towel in disgust as she polished off the last of the Pop Tarts, she stood up from the table and decided that she needed to get out of the house, away from these thoughts. She looked on the desk for her purse, but came up empty. She remembered with a heavy sigh that she had carried it up to her room when they had dragged in from that fiasco of a concert outing last night. She trotted back up to her room and spotted the purse lying on the chair with the discarded leather pants and Rachel's sweatshirt. Carefully avoiding the shirt as if it were a snake, Lorelai reached out and snagged the strap of the purse with one finger. She looped it over her shoulder and turned to leave, but stopped to look back at the rhinestone decorated sweatshirt again. Gingerly, she lifted it from the chair, and held it up in front of her, trying to picture Elle McPherson in it, but failing miserably.

As she studied the sweatshirt, she realized that she had the perfect opening with Patty, since she was here when Lorelai told them about Luke's freak out. She nodded as she carefully folded the sweatshirt and tucked it under her arm. Patty would know everything. Patty always knew. And then, she would give it back to Luke, who was obviously not ready to part with it yet. She walked slowly down the stairs, lost in thoughts of Luke's long broken heart. She wondered if he still loved her, if he was still waiting for her. That would explain a lot of things. His cranky disposition, for example, could be the direct result of a distinct lack of lovin'. And maybe also his cynical attitude about life and love, and his mysterious lack of a love life, were the product of a broken heart and instead of one made of stone. That had to be it, she reasoned.

Poor Luke, she thought sadly as she walked toward the square. Poor Luke, she thought again, this time with a derisive snort. Face it, the guy could have practically any woman he wanted. Well, except those who were allergic to flannel, she corrected herself. No, he chose this. He wants to live like a hermit. He doesn't want anyone else, not really. That's what held him back from asking her out last week. She knew he was going to, she could see it in his eyes, read it in the way he leaned a little closer to her, and hear it in the deep, intimate timbre of his voice. But then they were interrupted by Mrs. Kim. She tried to give him an opening the next day. Hell, she gave him an opening big enough to drive three semi trucks through, but he didn't take it. He must have had time to think it over. He must have had time to remember who and what he was waiting for.

But how long did he plan to wait? she wondered as she kicked a rock along the sidewalk. Obviously, it had been years since Rachel had been in Stars Hollow. She wracked her brain, trying to remember a time when Luke had gone out of town for even a few days, but came up empty. Of course, they could still be in touch. They could talk on the phone every night for all she knew. Maybe Rachel sent him love letters written on pretty stationary, scented with her perfume and sealed with a kiss. It was possible. Possible, but not probable, she reasoned. If she was still in contact, and if Luke was still in love with her, he would have gone to get her. Or at least gone with her. But he was here, and she was not. That was all Lorelai really knew for sure.

She crossed the street and walked over to the part of the square where the rummage sale was in progress. She spotted Lane and Rory pawing through piles of clothing and headed over to them, careful to keep the folded sweatshirt tucked casually under her arm. "Hey," she called as she approached.

Lane waved a little and Rory replied with a, "Hey," of her own.

"Hey, you didn't wake me up," Lorelai said petulantly.

Rory shrugged and said, "I set the clock."

Lorelai smiled evilly as she nodded and explained, "Yes, but see the clock stops ringing once I throw it against the wall giving me ample time to fall back to sleep, you however never stop yapping no matter how hard I throw you, thus ensuring the wake up process."

Lane quickly ditched them to go on a quest for soda and gum, and Lorelai turned to Rory, full of apologetic explanations for the way she had gone off on those stupid girls who ditched the concert the previous night. Rory was fine, though, letting the whole incident roll off her back. She simply shrugged and said, "I've always thought 'easy' is completely overrated."

Lorelai grinned proudly as she said, "Oh, that's my twisted girl."

"Plus Paris decided to let me split the debate time with her," Rory said happily.

"Wow!" Lorelai answered enthusiastically. She stopped and frowned for a second before she asked, "Wait, why am I wowing?"

"Because splitting debate time with Paris is like doing that whole 'spitting in your palm and shaking hands' friendship oath thing," Rory explained.

Lorelai nodded and asked, "But way less gross?"

"Yeah," Rory agreed.

Lorelai smiled and said, "Oh, good, I'm glad then." She glanced around and spotted Luke pawing through a rack of clothing and blinked in surprise. She glanced down at the sweatshirt tucked under her arm and said distractedly, "Oh, uh, I'll be right back."

"Okay," Rory answered as she went back to browsing.

Lorelai wove her way through the shoppers and walked up next to Luke, clutching the sweatshirt in her hand, tucked behind her back. "Hey," she said gently, trying not to startle him.

Luke turned to look at her and said, "Oh, hey."

"Find anything good?" she asked as he stepped away from the rack.

Luke nodded and held up a small plastic bag as he said, "Oh yeah, I got some refrigerator magnets shaped like sushi for a nickel, so basically I scored."

Lorelai grinned and said as she walked along beside him, "Oh good."

Luke looked over at her sheepishly and said in a low voice, "Hey, look, about that thing that happened the other day…"

"Oh forget it," Lorelai said quickly, careful to keep her hand hidden behind her back.

Luke shook his head and said, "I was a jerk, I didn't mean it."

"I know, really," she assured him.

Luke shrugged and said, "Yeah well, I am sorry."

Lorelai turned to him, holding the folded sweatshirt in her outstretched hand. "I wanted to give this back to you," she began.

Luke shook his head as he protested, "Oh no, you bought it."

"I know, but it's yours, and I didn't know," she explained lamely.

Luke stopped walking and asked, "You didn't know?"

"About the former owner," she answered gently.

"Oh," Luke said as he looked down at the sweatshirt, clearly embarrassed.

"If I had, I wouldn't have flaunted it in front of you like that," Lorelai said quickly.

Luke forced a smile and said, "Hey, it's not a big deal, I was having a bad day, that's it. Now I got magnetic sushi and all is right with the world," he joked.

"Okay good," Lorelai said, clearly not buying a word he said. "So here," she said as she held it out to him again. "It obviously means something to you," she added in a sincere tone.

Luke looked at the sweatshirt warily as he asked, "But you have to let things go eventually right?"

"Yeah, but sometimes you need a little something to remind you. I mean you wouldn't want to forget everything would you?" she asked as she looked up at him questioningly.

Luke glanced down, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he said, "No there was some stuff that I definitely would not want to forget."

Lorelai nodded her understanding and said, "Well here, so you don't forget."

Luke took the shirt and looked up at her from under his long dark lashes as he asked gruffly, "Thanks. Can I pay you for it?"

"In coffee, absolutely," Lorelai answered with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Luke nodded and said, "Alright." He took a few steps away from her and turned back as he glanced from the shirt to Lorelai. "I'm not pining, you know," he told her firmly.

Lorelai nodded quickly and said, "I know."

"Just remembering," he reminded her.

"Got it," she answered.

"Remembering is not pining," he insisted.

"You're absolutely right," Lorelai answered gravely.

Luke looked down at the shirt again and said, "It's just like a memento, like restaurant matches."

Lorelai smiled sadly and gestured toward the shirt as she said, "I can see the resemblance."

"Ok, well good," Luke said with a nod.

"Bye Luke," Lorelai said gently.

"Bye," he said as he turned and walked back toward the diner.

Lorelai stood watching him walk away, completely oblivious to the attention they had drawn from the shoppers nearby. As soon as Luke stepped off of the curb and began to cross the street, Patty and Babette swooped in. "What did he say, dear?" Patty asked.

"Has he heard from Rachel?" Babette chimed in.

"Does he still love her?" Patty asked quickly.

"Of course he still loves her," Babette scoffed.

"Not necessarily," Patty said, shooting a meaningful look at Lorelai.

"Oooh," Babette breathed as she turned to look at Lorelai speculatively too.

"What?" Lorelai demanded. "I just gave him the sweatshirt back, that's all," she insisted.

"Oh, nothing, dear," Patty said, recovering quickly.

"Poor thing," Babette said sympathetically as she turned to watch as Luke walked into the diner.

"Such a sweet boy. A good man," Patty corrected herself with a nod.

"He is a good man," Lorelai said neutrally.

"Such a big heart," Babette said as she gestured wildly.

"And such a nice tush," Patty purred with a sly smile. "Too bad he can't just meet some nice girl to take his mind off of Rachel," she drawled.

"You guys stop," Lorelai said, holding up a hand.

"What?" Patty asked innocently.

"I just gave him the shirt back, that's it. I didn't know whose it was, and I didn't mean to upset him," Lorelai explained.

"Luke saw Lorelai wearing Rachel's sweatshirt," Patty told Babette with a knowing smile.

"Ahhh, I see," Babette said, nodding furiously.

"No, no! Nothing to see," Lorelai said quickly.

Babette shook her head sadly and said, "No wonder he was upset. What a shock that had to be, huh?" she screeched as she elbowed Patty.

"Indeed," Patty said through pursed lips.

"You guys are nuts," Lorelai said shaking her head. "Shouldn't you be staking out stretches of desert in New Mexico looking for UFOs or something?" she asked as she looked around nervously. Finally she spotted Lane crossing the street with a drink in her hand and heading toward the tables at the far end of the sale. "I have to find Rory," she told them as she turned on her heel and fled into the crowd.

She managed to avoid Luke and going Luke's for the rest of the day by throwing an imaginary craving for Chinese on Rory and ordering up a feast that would have made Madame Mao proud. While Rory spent the evening studying, she lolled on the couch, lost in thought.

He looked so sad, she thought as she flipped over to Nick at Nite. Defeated, she thought worriedly. Did he still love her? Was he just waiting for her to come back? She hated the sad lines around his eyes, and the tight drawn smiles. She hated the slump of his shoulders and his slow gait as he walked away clutching the sweatshirt tightly in his hand. She hated the downturned corners of his mouth, and the blue eyes dulled with painful memories. She hated that sweatshirt. She hated Rachel for hurting him. But most of all, she hated that she couldn't stop thinking about him.

With a disgusted flick of her wrist she turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the stack of catalogues on the coffee table. She pushed herself up out of the sofa and shuffled down the hall to call a quick goodnight to Rory. She turned toward the stairs and dashed up them quickly, as if she were trying to outrun her own thoughts. Unfortunately, Lorelai knew that her brain was much quicker than her feet. She wondered how long it would be before the rest of her followed its lead.

XXXX

Luke trudged up the steps to the diner and unlocked the door, shaking his head at himself. He locked it behind him and left the 'back in a minute' sign taped to the glass. He walked through the deserted dining room and through the curtain that hid the steps to his apartment. Climbing them quickly, he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the frosted glass door at the top. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, looking down at the plastic bag and sweatshirt clutched in his hands. He tossed the bag onto the kitchen table, carefully unfolded the sweatshirt Lorelai had returned to him, and draped it over the back of the chair. Luke closed his eyes for a moment as he took a step back, placing a comfortable foot of distance between himself and the clash of emotion the garment evoked.

He tilted his head and studied the pattern of the rhinestones for a minute, remembering the day last week when he realized that it still hung in his closet. He had congratulated himself as he pulled it from the hanger it had resided on for the past five years without a twinge. It had felt so good to finally place it in that bag filled with worn flannels and faded jeans. He shook his head slightly as he reached for it, lifting it from the chair, and unthinkingly holding it up to his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, knowing that the scent locked into the fibers now would be Lorelai's and not Rachel's, but still feeling a shock to his system as he drank it in. His eyes snapped open and he dropped the sweatshirt to the table top as if it had burned him.

He reached for the plastic bag and pulled out the ceramic discs painted to look like sushi and sporting strips of magnet glued to the back. He shifted them in one hand, mixing up the selection of fake seafood in his palm, as he dropped down into a chair and stared at the sequined sweatshirt on the table. The truth was that he didn't really know why he reacted so violently to the sight of Lorelai wearing it. It wasn't like he was still in love with Rachel. Contrary to popular belief, he hadn't been for a long time. As far as Luke was concerned, the town could think what they wanted, he wasn't pining. His love life was none of their business. He should have learned that lesson when he was seventeen and made the mistake of cutting under the bleachers at the homecoming game to get to the concession stand and suddenly found Carrie Duncan's tongue down his throat. Of course, there was no way of keeping his relationship with Rachel quiet. It had lasted too long, gotten too serious and raised expectations. When those expectations went unmet, Luke got to live out his disappointment in the public eye, something he had vowed never to do again. He dated, although everyone thought that he didn't, but it wasn't often, or anything remotely serious. In reality, he was careful not to date anyone local, discreet to the point of compulsion, and all in all, was only marginally less monk-like than they all thought he was.

He fingered the sleeve of the sweatshirt as he continued to shift the sushi magnets in his left hand. No, he wasn't in love with Rachel anymore. He did still love her, but only in that fond way that you remember someone you haven't seen or heard from in a very long time. He hadn't loved her for years. Almost four years to be exact. He knew it was probably stupid, his feelings for a woman that had once been his world were almost completely negated by his feelings for another woman who was nothing more than a friend, but he had no further explanation for it. He loved Lorelai. He had almost since the day she had blown into his diner and turned his world upside down. Maybe that was why. Maybe it was because he couldn't stand to see the woman who was the star of all of his new hopes and dreams wearing a shirt that once belonged to the woman who had crushed those same hopes and dreams so long ago.

And what did he do about it? He freaked out and yelled at her like a lunatic. It was just such a shock, seeing her sitting there wearing it. It felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Like she was rubbing his face in the fact that he couldn't have her and he couldn't have Rachel either. He knew it was ridiculous. Lorelai probably didn't know anything more about him and Rachel than the town's welcome wagon included in the 'welcome to the neighborhood' packet of gossip she was sure to have received when she bought the house next to Babette. But, God, it hurt to see her in it. Like some kind of cosmic slap in the face meant to keep him down or keep him in his place. It especially hurt because he had come so close just a week ago.

So close and yet so far, he thought with a snort as he yanked his fingers away from the sweatshirt and dropped the magnetic sushi to the table top with a clatter. He scraped his chair back and shrugged out of his green army coat. Nothing was really any different, he reminded himself. He hadn't done it, she hadn't said yes, or worse, no. Life was just the same today was it was three Thursdays ago, or two Mondays, for that matter, he reasoned.

Luke turned to leave the apartment and jogged down the steps. He strode to the door, flipped the lock and tore down the note he had taped there. He went behind the counter, grabbed a rag, and began to wipe the already clean counter again. He glanced up at the spot where she had sat the night she had been set up with Jackson's runt of a cousin, marveling at how good it had felt. Talking, teasing, playing cards and watching a new romance begin to unfold in front of them. They were swept up in the moment. Wishful thinking, he told himself for the thirteen millionth time since that night. But, he also knew that if Mrs. Kim hadn't walked in at that particular moment, he would have done it. His fate would have been sealed. His questions would have been answered once and for all.

He'd seen it, the spark of interest that flashed occasionally in her bright blue eyes. He sensed that her compulsion for flirting with him didn't stem only from her desire to get her way. And that night, as she looked up at him, he knew that there would be no better opportunity. Before he could stop himself, the words were coming out, only to be lost in the flurry of demands made by a frightened and irate mother. She came in the next day, but he knew that the moment was gone. She smiled and joked nervously, and Luke could tell that she was uncertain of how to proceed. So, he made it easy on her, backing down and making a lame comment about playing poker again. And for a split second, he thought he might have seen a flicker of disappointment cross her face, before she forced a laugh and struggled to talk normally to him. And Luke had spent the rest of the day kicking himself in the ass. That look played over and over again in his head, mocking him for his cowardice, taunting him with the possibility.

And now it was replaced by another look, a soft smile of concerned sympathy. She had handed him that stupid sweatshirt and stood there in her pretty pink turtleneck, gazing at him with eyes filled with pity. And what had he done? He took it back, clutching it in his hand even though he wanted to turn and toss it into the nearest trashcan. He stood there like a dolt, listening to her justify his need to hang on to something that had already lost all meaning for him. And then he told her that he wasn't pining. What an idiot, he thought with a snort as he tossed the rag onto the shelf below the counter and carried a few stray dishes back to the kitchen. "I'm not pining, I'm just remembering," he mimicked himself mercilessly. He slammed the dishes into the dishwasher and stood up with his hands on his hips. "Restaurant matches! Brilliant, you moron," he muttered to himself. He heard the bells jingle, but knew instinctively that it wasn't Lorelai. He always knew when it was. How? Well, he wasn't sure of that either. He stepped out of the kitchen and greeted the customers with his customary, "Be right with you," as he searched beside the register for his order pad and pencil.

The day wore on, a typical slow Sunday. When no one needed his attention, he found himself staring out the window, watching for a glimpse of a pink sweater, looking for the grey hat pulled down over dark curls. When no one was around, he amused himself by dealing hand after hand of solitaire on the countertop, and wishing he was playing poker instead. By eight that evening, he gave up and flipped the sign to 'closed.' As he cleaned up, he tried not to dwell on the fact that she never came in that day. Sometimes, rarely, but occasionally, there were days like that. The fact that he could easily remember the last day that Lorelai hadn't come into the diner, only highlighted what he perceived to be his pathetic existence. A part of him wished that he was different. A part of him wanted to say, 'screw it,' and take off to go get drunk and chat up some poor unsuspecting girl in a neighboring town, one that wouldn't think of him as, 'Luke the diner guy.' One that wouldn't look at him pityingly the way Lorelai had earlier. Preferably, one that would look at him and think, maybe this guy is worth a shot. But he knew it would matter in the long run.

He refilled the salt and pepper shakers, restocked the sweetener and sugar packets, and swept and mopped the floor, but delayed washing out the coffee pots until the last moment. He turned out the lights and walked slowly up the stairs to his empty apartment. The first thing he saw was the sweatshirt he had tossed down on the table earlier. He picked it up and carried it over to the sink. He opened the cabinet beneath it, stuffed the sweatshirt into the trash and slammed the cabinet door shut. He turned, resting his hands on his hips as he spied the magnets he had shelled out a nickel for that morning. He glanced over at his bare refrigerator and wondered what had possessed him to buy them. He had no carefully colored artwork to display, or notes to leave for anyone. He kept his bills in an old napkin holder on the counter, and never ordered take out for any reason. He scooped the magnets off of the edge of the table into the palm of his hand, giving them a careless shake to hear the sound of their rattle in the silent apartment. He turned and opened the cabinet again, dumping them into the trash on top of the sweatshirt, and closed the door with quiet finality.

He pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and turned on the television for company as he dropped tiredly into his chair. He took a long pull of his beer and then shook his head as he remembered his earlier thought about going out to meet a girl. He glanced around the tiny apartment filled with relics from his father's era and snorted. "Yeah, I should go out, pick up a hot girl and bring her back here to my swingin' bachelor pad for a night of unbridled lust," he said dryly as he lifted his bottle in a toast to himself and toed off his boots. "I'll get right to that," he muttered as he tossed his hat onto the couch and settled in to watch the end of the Celtics game.

XXXX

Lorelai sat at the counter at Luke's fending off Rory's commentary on her new hat and sparkly sweatshirt when the next thing she knew, Luke was standing in front of them holding a coffee pot and completely freaking out. "What the hell do you think you're wearing?" he demanded.

"A hat," she answered with a smile.

"Take that off," he said angrily.

"What?" she asked, shooting Rory a sidelong glance.

Luke pointed at her and said, "Now that is not yours, take it off."

"But I'll have hat hair," Lorelai said incredulously.

"I'm talking about the sweatshirt," he said, his voice rising in anger.

"Luke calm down," Lorelai said, turning to Rory for support, but finding the stool next to hers empty.

"That is not yours," Luke said adamantly.

"No, I found it in the bags of stuff for the sale," Lorelai said as she glanced around nervously and found herself completely alone with the angry diner owner.

"Oh, so you just find something and then you take it is that it?" he asked, his voice softening with hurt.

"No, I paid for it," she said helplessly.

Luke blinked rapidly, swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away as he asked, "Oh, so that makes it alright?"

Lorelai shook her head and said in a bewildered tone, "It makes it legal. What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing is the matter," he grumbled as he turned his head away from her.

"Luke..." Lorelai started to say as she slid from her stood and moved to the other side of the counter.

"Take it off," he whispered a desperate plea.

"But, Luke," she protested even as she reached out to gently touch his arm.

"It's Rachel's," he said in a ragged voice, his blue eyes searching hers for understanding.

"Luke," she said softly, but he simply closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Oh, Luke," she sighed as she pressed her hands to his cheeks, smoothing the lines around his eyes, caressing him gently. She waited until he lifted his head and then pressed her lips softly to his. Luke kept his eyes closed, surrendering silently to her gentle ministrations. Lorelai angled her head, deepening the kiss as his lips yielded beneath hers. She wound her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in the soft curls beneath the bill of his cap.

Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Luke encircled her with his arms, pulling her against his warm, solid body. He groaned softly into her mouth as Lorelai's tongue found his and tentatively stroked it. He slipped his hands up under the sweatshirt, bunching the hem of her t-shirt as he sought the soft heat of her skin. He tore his mouth from hers and began to blaze a trail of fiery kisses across her jaw and down to her neck, sucking the tender skin into his mouth as he burrowed under her dark curls. Lorelai clung to his broad shoulders breathlessly, awash in desire as she arched into his body, desperate to feel him against her. The bells chimed loudly, and Taylor walked in. He stepped over to them and tapped Lorelai's shoulder officiously. "Excuse me, Lorelai," he said impatiently.

"Lorelai?" Luke asked as his eyes popped open and he immediately released her, sending her stumbling back into Taylor.

Lorelai looked around in dismay as Luke stared at her with a horrified expression and Taylor babbled something about costumes for the elementary school spring assembly. She nodded her assent without hearing a word, unable to drag her eyes from Luke. Taylor left as quickly as he came, the bells above the door jingling to signal his departure. "Luke," Lorelai said softly.

"It's not yours," Luke said as he gestured toward the sweatshirt helplessly.

"I'll give it back," she said quickly as she started to unzip it.

"It's Rachel's," he said blankly.

"Here," she offered as she dragged the sweatshirt from her arms and held it out to him.

Luke took it from her, bunching the material in his clenched fist as he said in a hard voice, "You're not Rachel.

"No," she whispered as she shook her head.

"You'll never be Rachel," he said as he turned and walked away from her, disappearing behind the curtain at the end of the counter.

Lorelai opened her eyes and slowly turned her head to look at her brand new alarm clock. She groaned aloud in the pre-dawn darkness and whispered, "Stupid Taylor," as she rolled over and tried to snuggle into her pillow. Thirteen minutes later, she watched wide eyed as the clock turned to 6:00 and wondered if it was too early to start the coffee maker. She flopped over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling and told herself that she certainly wasn't going to Luke's for breakfast.

tbc