Work Text:
They go hesitant, at first.
It’s only natural. Lorelai isn’t just breaking a friendship this time: the aftermath bruises of what broke between them are still flushed and raw. They ache when she touches them. When she stands in the street and waits for him to lock up the diner, folding herself in against the cool summer air, and recalls standing here this time the year before. Luke tucks the key into his pocket and reaches for her, and she forces a smile so he won’t see she’s remembering the shouts.
He notices anyway. Luke does a lot of noticing now.
He’s particularly careful when he holds her hand, when he nuzzles against her hair, like he can’t believe she’s permitting him to do so. He’s changed like she has: they’re not clinging to each other like their life depends on it. When Luke brings up the M word - hesitant, several weeks into their fresh new thing - Lorelai takes a deep breath and they discuss it like the Mature Adults they are. They agree marriage would be nice. They agree to wait and see where things go. Lorelai wants to promise that she’s all in, and she can tell by the way Luke’s eyes crinkle when he squeezes her hand that he does too.
Neither of them say it. Saying it would prod that particular bruise a little too hard.
Life continues. They make old patterns new. Lorelai stays firmly on her side of the diner counter until she gives in and begins rising from her stool to kiss him again. Luke goes back to performing odd jobs for the Dragonfly - only ones Lorelai thinks he’d like, or that she’s a little desperate about, and she makes sure to thank him afterwards. Luke doesn’t stay the night at her house until he does, and then he’s there more nights than not.
It’s one such night when Lorelai stumbles home late from the Dragonfly - there was a birdwatching group in that weekend who’d booked out the entire inn and insisted on using every towel in residence as blankets slash picnic rugs - to find Luke’s car already pulled up beside the garage. Lorelai’s stomach grumbles gratefully: Luke’s probably cooked up something which she’ll be able to eat immediately rather than wait the full half hour for takeout.
As expected, when she swings the front door open, something delicious assaults her sense of smell - rich and meaty, like steak. Perfect.
Unexpected, however, is the music.
Luke’s not a music kind of guy. Never has been. One of the perks of getting back together has included Lorelai teasing him about the mix CD Zach made which lives permanently in Luke’s car, and the way Luke listens to it with a resigned grimace like he’s doing homework.
This isn’t Zach’s mix CD playing.
Lorelai recognises it immediately, because it’s a classic. Oh, and because she’s had it stuck in her head for most of the last two months.
Dolly warbles out “I will always love you” and that’s not catches Lorelai so very off guard.
What catches her - what causes her to hover in the doorway, hand frozen on the doorknob - is the faint sound of Luke singing along.
Lorelai’s never heard Luke sing. Ever.
He’s not great. He only just manages to stick to the tone, the way a child on their first swimming lesson just manages to stay afloat. But he’s singing and Lorelai’s heart thumps in her chest in a way that’s frankly embarrassing.
She toes off her shoes so her heels won’t clack on the floorboards and sneaks into her own house.
Luke’s hovering over the stove - there’s a frying pan, score one for her steak guess. No flannel, no baseball cap, just shirt and sweatpants. Casual.
Paul Anka, sitting in his chair, swings his nose in Lorelai’s direction. His tail thumps once before Lorelai quickly raises a finger to her lips, shushing him.
Luke’s throaty when he sings along to the verse, far deeper than Dolly, and Lorelai’s desperate to know how he’ll tackle the high notes of the chorus.
He tries. Bless him, Luke tries. His voice cracks midway through the first I and Lorelai can’t help it: she pounces, tucking her arms around his waist and burying her nose in the back of his neck.
Luke lets out a yelp higher pitched than the song, dropping the tongs with a clatter. “Hey!”
“Just me!” Lorelai clarifies quickly, hiding her grin against the collar of his shirt. His skin is flushed warm from the heat of the stove, but maybe also a little from her catching him out. “Practising for karaoke next week, huh?”
“I didn’t-” Luke twists in her grip and she lets him, rocking up on her bare toes to kiss his mouth until he melts against her.
God, Lorelai loves him. Has she mentioned she loves him?
“I have other suggestions! I don’t know if you could handle a Jolene, but I’d love to hear you try a Bono, maybe even a-”
“Lorelai,” Luke interrupts with one hand on her cheek, the other on her waist. He’s flushed pink. Past Luke might retreat to grumbling here - tucking into himself like a wrinkled tortoise - but this Luke, her Luke, kisses her forehead instead. “Let me just - let me serve up dinner first, okay?”
“I need a proper serenade later,” Lorelai insists, before she lets him pick up the tongs. “Now that I know you know the words and sing along while I’m at work, you’re not getting away with it.”
Luke huffs but when he says, “Maybe if you’re good and eat your greens”, it’s through a bitten-back soft smile.