Disclaimer: This story is only fan fiction, and not a Machiavellian attempt to steal the copyright of the Gilmore Girls.

Pretty in the Morning

“Can you be calm?” she said.

“Calm about what?” Luke asked. He had the phone tucked between his chin and his shoulder. He was wiping down the counter. He stopped, mid motion.

“Come over,” she said.

“I'm working,” he said.

“This will just take a second.”

“What's broken now?” he said. “I have customers.”

“At this hour?” she said. “I'm sure its nobody important.”

He looked across the diner. Kirk was sitting at a table, eating strawberry rhubarb pie à la mode and staring moodily out the window. “All of my customers are important,” Luke said. “I'm trying to run a business, here. I don't differentiate between the customers who are important, and those who are just a waste of oxygen.”

“You do so!” she said. “You accused me of wasting oxygen just last week.”

“Yeah, well, that's because you wouldn't stop talking,” he said. “I nearly passed out. I had to go to the sidelines and take a hit.”

“What?”

“Football,” he said, already bored with the subject. “Of course you wouldn't get the reference.”

“Football?” she said. “Ew. Why are you making references I won't get? That's just mean.”

“Are you kidding me?” he said. “Half the time I have no clue what you're talking about.”

“That's not fair,” she said, pretending to be hurt. “My references are very user-friendly. I mine pop culture. I only use the gold.”

He snorted.

“My references are crystal clear,” she continued. “As clear as an unmuddied lake.”

“Pardon?”

“As clear as an azure sky of deepest summer.”

“What?” He wasn't one hundred percent sure which color azure was, but in his mind he saw an image of Rory Gilmore.

“Clockwork Orange,” she said.

“Oh, gross,” he said. “Why are you thinking about A Clockwork Orange?”

“Did you know that Stanley Kubrick pulled that film out of circulation in England?”

“No,” he said. “Do I care? Hmm. No to that, too.”

“Yes,” she went on blithely, ignoring him as usual. “He thought a film about a street tough who went around inciting mayhem was much too violent for the delicate sensibilities of the British Isles.”

Luke began to feel anxious.

“Old Stanley,” Lorelai said. “He was sorry he made that movie.”

“Lorelai,” Luke said. “Did you call for any particular reason?”

“Well,” she said. “Remember when I asked you to come over?”

“Yes,” he said. He tried to infuse his voice with as much authority as was humanly possible. “Tell me why.”

“I think it would be great if you put down that coffee pot, or your stainless steel donut tongs.”

“Stainless steel donut tongs?”

“You know. Those tong thingies that you use to pick up the donuts because you're squeamish about getting your hands sticky.”

“You mean the thing I use so that the Health Department won't shut me down?”

“Uh,” she said. “I didn't even know that was a consideration.”

“Excuse me?” he said. “You work at an inn. To the best of my knowledge, you serve food there. You've heard of the Health Department.”

“Well, yeah,” she said.

“I mean, I hope so,” he said. “Because I've eaten there.”

“But your diner's in its own special world. I think of it as existing in ‘Luke Land.’ I didn't know the Health Department lived there, too.”

“Lorelai,” he said tiredly. “It's late.”

“That's why I called,” she said.

“Oh, is it?”

“That's the nature of my dilemma. Or part of it anyway.”

“Normal people talk,” he said. “They open their mouths, and sentences come out. The sentences are made up of meaningful words. Those words impart information to the listener.”

“I need you to come over,” she said, suddenly serious. Lorelai was always the one who decided when the conversation got back on track.

“And do what?” he said suspiciously.

“Oh,” she said. “I need you to come and roust Jess.”

He swallowed. “Roust him from where?”

She made a sound, something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “From my daughter's bed.”

“I heard what you said.” Kirk had just taken another bite of pie.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” Luke said. “I forget where I put the Heimlich poster.”

“I appreciate you sticking up for me.”

“Were you eavesdropping on me?”

“I didn't realize the conversation was confidential,” Kirk said. He scooped up a fork of strawberry ice cream, and put it in his mouth. “Oh, God,” he said in a strangled voice. “Head rush!” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Ice cream head rush!”

“It's not nice to listen in on other people's private conversations,” Luke said. He turned off the coffee pot, and locked the register. He surveyed the diner, running through a quick checklist in his head.

“I'm dying!” Kirk gasped. He was massaging his temples.

“You're not dying,” Luke said irritably. Kirk frequently thought he was dying.

“The pain!”

“Suck it up,” Luke said. “Be a man.”

“Oh, the humanity!”

“Kirk,” Luke said. “You're going to make my head explode.”

Kirk took a long drink of water. He held up his glass. “Can I have more water?” he asked.

“No,” said Luke.

“In the future, when you want to have a private conversation, why don't you say something ahead of time? I could put my hands over my ears. I could sing a song.”

“Kirk,” Luke said.

“La la la la la,” Kirk sang, demonstrating.

“Kirk!” said Luke.

“I’ll go into the ‘Cone of Silence.’”

“The cone of what?”

“It's like an isolation booth,” Kirk said.

Luke sighed.

“We could work out a signal,” Kirk said, warming to the subject. “Have you seen The Sting?”

“Pardon?”

“You could rub your nose with your finger. But you'd have to give me a significant look, too.”

“I'm handling food, here,” Luke said. “I just went through all this with Lorelai.”

“One little nose rub, and I wouldn't have known that,” Kirk said.

“I can't rub my nose,” Luke said. “So, I was just talking to Lorelai.”

“I know,” Kirk said.

“Because you were listening.”

“You didn't make the signal,” Kirk said.

“There is no signal,” said Luke.

“Rub your nose,” Kirk said.

“I'm not gonna rub my nose,” said Luke.

“Well,” Kirk said. “It's the significant look that's important. Otherwise, you could just be rubbing your nose. How would I know the difference?”

“Kirk.”

“I want you to know that I appreciated it when you said I was an important customer.”

“That's not exactly what I said.”

“Sure you did.” Kirk took another bite of pie.

“You have an oral comprehension problem,” Luke said. “You should look into that.”

“So,” Kirk said. “Which signal would you like to use?”

“Pick one,” said Luke. “Why don't you do some research, and come up with a good one?”

“Oh, okay,” said Kirk. “I will. That's a great idea.”

“Pie's on the house,” Luke said.

“Oh, no,” said Kirk.

“Oh, yes,” said Luke. “Get along, little doggie.”

“I'm not ready to go,” Kirk said.

“But I am,” said Luke.

“How do you expect to keep your customers happy if you arbitrarily change your hours of business? People like it when everything stays the same.”

“There's nothing arbitrary about my hours of business,” Luke said. “I decide when I open, and I decide when I close.”

“What about my pie?”

Luke sighed.

“I was enjoying that piece of pie.”

“Oh, Kirk,” Luke said sadly.

“All day long, I looked forward to that delectable triangle of strawberry rhubarb goodness, topped by one perfect scoop of pink ice cream.”

“Okay,” said Luke. “Now I'm the one who's dying.”

“I intended to eat my pie in quiet contemplation, reflecting on the events of the day.”

“You didn't do anything different,” Luke said. “You did the same thing today that you did yesterday. And you're gonna do the same thing tomorrow.”

“All I wanted was to eat my pie.” Kirk looked like he might cry.

“Come back in the morning,” said Luke. “I’ll give you another slice.”

“Pie for breakfast?” Kirk was offended.

“Lots of people eat pie for breakfast,” Luke said, although he wouldn't have been caught dead eating pie for breakfast.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’ll give you a free slice. From a better pie. In fact, tomorrow is free pie day. All you can eat.”

“For everybody?” Kirk asked.

“Of course not,” said Luke. “Only for you.”

“Well, then,” Kirk said. “I guess that's okay.”

Luke strode across town. His stomach was tied up in knots. He alternated between cursing Lorelai for her vague telephone manner, and cursing his nephew for what he assumed was the ruination of Lorelai’s daughter. For a while, he cursed his sister Liz, but she was far away and outside his sphere of influence; he had been cursing her his entire life, and it had never been effective or satisfactory.
When he got to Lorelai’s house, he stopped at the head of the walk. He was surprised. Lorelai was sitting on the front step, sipping a Mexican beer. She's in shock, he thought. Her mind has snapped. She's finally gone completely bonkers.

“I've thought this through very carefully,” she said, by way of greeting.

“Okay,” he said cautiously.

“We're going to do this calmly, like adults,” Lorelai said. She was pinching a piece of lime between her thumb and forefinger.

“Do what?” he said, his heart sinking. He looked around. He didn't see any rope or weapons or canvas sheets, stuff she'd require if she intended to subdue and eventually dispose of the boy who'd deflowered her beautiful daughter.

“Ow,” she said, “Little sucker got me in the eye!”

“What?” he said, alarmed.

“The lime,” she said. “I was trying to squeeze it into my beer.”

“Oh, God, Lorelai,” he said. He had thought she was talking about Jess.

“This lime hates me,” she said.

“I'm sure it doesn't hate you.” He shifted his weight. Experience had taught him that Lorelai would only come to the point when she was good and ready. In that respect, she was like a child. Try to force her hand, and she'd dig in her heels. Affect a careful air of nonchalance, and she'd be right in his face, begging for attention.

“I was listening to it,” she said. “Back in the fridge, it was talking to the other limes. Conspiring against me.”

Nonchalance, he thought.

“The orange told him to aim for my nose, but the other limes said: 'Go for the eye! Go for the eye!'”

“Are you drunk?” he said irritably, abandoning his attempt at playing it cool.

“Getting there.” She sighed. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Can you tell me what's going on?” he said. “Because you made it sound really bad on the phone.”

“Ah,” she said.

He looked at her expectantly.

“I'm feeling very delicate here,” she said. “I'm trying to be cool about this. 'Cool Mom,' that's me.”

“Well,” he said. “That's good.”

“But every once in a while I have a little, oh, what would you call it? A freak out! And I'm in a John Waters movie.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Pink Flamingos?”

“Ha,” she said sourly.

“The one with Ricki Lake?”

“There are four with Ricki Lake,” she said.

“Whatever,” he said.

“Not one with Devine, either,” Lorelai said. “Pink Flamingos! I'm filing that away as an attack on my fashion sense.”

“You do that,” said the man in the flannel shirt and baseball cap.

“I was referring to Serial Mom.”

“Ouch,” said Luke.

“The one with the mom who kills everybody,” she added, just in case he hadn't gotten it.

“Point of Order,” he said.

“Yup?”

“Is anybody dead?” He gestured with his hand. “Ah, anywhere? Around here?”

“Not yet,” she said ominously.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “Well, that's good.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“I won't visit you in jail,” he said. “I just want you to know that.”

“Women's prison?” she said. “You would, too.”

He climbed the steps and sat beside her, resting his hands on his knees. Lorelai was a tall woman, but not as tall as Luke. He noticed that while he had to put his feet on the ground to be comfortable, she had her feet on the second step. There was barely a space between their shoulders. He could have leaned slightly, and felt her sitting there beside him. “Lorelai,” he said gently. “Will you tell me what is going on?”

“I've thought this through,” she said again.

“While you were drinking your beer?”

He saw out of the corner of his eye that she nodded. “While I was drinking my beer.” She sighed. “I don't want to create some sort of situation where they think they have to sneak around to see each other.”

“Okay,” he said tentatively.

“I want to know where they are, and what they're doing.”

“Me too,” he said.

“At all times.”

“Yes.”

“Even if they're having sex.”

“Oh, God,” Luke said. His head was reeling. He put his face in his hands.

“Wait,” Lorelai said.

“There's more?” he moaned.

“I said ‘if.’”

“What?”

“If they're having sex,” she said. “I don't think they've done it yet.”

“What?” he said. It was a bright ray of hope. Maybe there was still time. A GPS tracking device, he thought. On his ankle. Rigged to explode if tampered with. Or, Jess can be one of those really pale kids, who live in the basement. All the time. “What's the name of that Wes Craven movie?” he asked.

“The People Under the Stairs,” she supplied, without having to ask which movie he meant.

“That's the one.”

“I think,” she said, “that tonight, it really was innocent.”

“Innocent?” he said, thinking of Rory’s big blue eyes.

“But that will change.”

“It doesn't have to,” he said tightly.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. “It's going to happen sooner or later. Okay, I was voting for later. Way later, like when I'm old and gray and Rory already has her Ph.D. I’ll have Alzheimer's, and I won't have to know about it.” She jammed the lime in the neck of the bottle, and set her beer off to the side. “I was voting for a perfect first time.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality. “In a field of wild flowers, on a summer day.” She slipped her arm through his, and he looked down, surprised. “With a gentle, scented breeze. And bunnies.”

“Bunnies?” he said.

She squeezed his arm. “With bunnies and deer frolicking nearby, in the tall grass. And little yellow chicks . . .”

“You want her to do it at Easter?” he asked, but she was very far away, now.

“And the most perfect, beautiful boy, who loves her like nobody's ever been loved in the whole history of the world.” She sniffed, and Luke realized she was crying. “But it's never like that, is it?”

“No,” he said. It hadn't been like that for him.

“It's so rough,” she said. “Scary and painful. Usually you do it in the back seat of some guy's car! The worst of it is that you're doing it to get it over with, finally, and when it is over, it wasn't what you thought it would be like, and you just feel so sad.”

“Oh, hey,” he said, completely at a loss.

“I won't scare my daughter.” She dried her eyes on her sleeve.

“I don't want to scare her, either,” he said, wishing he had a hankie to offer her. “That's the last thing I want.”

“That's not why I asked you to come over here.”

“Okay,” he said. “Why did you ask me to come over?”

“We're going to wake them up,” she said.

He sighed. “And talk to them?” He hated the talking part. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't good at it. He always felt like Jess was laughing at him.

“That's up to you,” she said. “You're Jess’ uncle. What you say to him is up to you.”

“That's right,” he said.

“We're parents here,” Lorelai said. “All I want is for them to know that we're watching. We're paying attention.”

“Oh,” he said.

“That's all,” she said.

“You'll take Jess home, and I’ll put Rory to bed.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully.

“Trust me,” she said.

“All right,” he said.

“This is only the first stage.”

“Ugh,” he said.

“There are many, many more stages.”

“Oh, man,” Luke said.

“I told you I’d thought this through,” Lorelai said.

She snagged a pillowcase from a pile of laundry on the back of the couch. “What's that for?” he asked.

“You'll see,” she said darkly.

“Lorelai,” he said sternly.

“I’ll pull it over his head real quick. You start hitting him. That way he won't be able to identify us.”

“And you don't think this will alarm Rory, just a bit?”

“Oh, heck,” she said. “Their feet are on the pillow.”

“What?”

“They have their shoes on.”

Luke paused in the hallway, confused. “I'm not following,” he said.

“They're sleeping upside down.”

He immediately got angry. “That's it!” he said. He turned to storm into Rory’s room.

Lorelai caught his arm. “Whoa, Joltin’ Joe, ease off. This is actually where the ‘innocent’ part comes in.”

“Lorelai,” he said, pained. “I am begging you to cut me some slack here.”

“Think happy thoughts,” she said.

“Kicking my nephew's ass is a happy thought.”

“If you can't calm down,” she said, “you'll have to wait outside. This is a young girl's bedroom we're violating.”

“It sounds to me like it's already been violated,” he said. “And don't use the word ‘violated.’”

“Quiet,” she said softly.

They were standing in the doorway. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He was able to make out shapes, their shapes on the rumpled bed. He saw two dark heads, forehead to forehead. He saw, with tremendous relief, that they were fully clothed. One of Rory’s hands was just touching Jess’s cheek.

Our kids, he thought. Hers and mine. The thought took his breath away, and in a distant, non-specific way, he wished for it. He didn't notice when he slipped his arm around Lorelai’s waist. She turned her head to him, and in his distraction, he kissed her on the forehead. “I'm going to wake him up,” he said softly, not remarking on the fact that it took her a second to find her voice and respond.

He shook Jess lightly. The boy stirred and made a sleepy sound. “Come on, son,” Luke said firmly. “It's time to go.”

“Luke?” Jess sat up on his elbow. “What is it?”

“Can you wake up?”

Jess seemed dazed. “I was dreaming,” he said.

“I'm sure you were,” Luke said wryly. “Up and at ‘em, sport.”

“Rory,” Jess said.

“I know,” said Luke.

“Luke?” Jess said again. He saw Lorelai. “Oh, my God,” he breathed. “Lorelai.”

Lorelai sketched a wave. “Howdy,” she said.

Jess pulled his arm out from under Rory. She protested, with a childlike groan. Jess got to his feet in a hurry, then seemed unsure of what to do. Lorelai was blocking the door. “God,” he said again. “We–we were reading.” His voice was thick.

“Where's your jacket?” Luke asked him.

“Probably too taxing,” admonished Lorelai. She went to the bed. She lifted up Rory’s feet, and slid out the pillow. “No difficult questions,” she said. She tucked the pillow under her chin, so she could change the pillowcase.

“For now,” Luke said.

“We fell asleep,” Jess said. “She was studying.”

“What were you doing?” Luke said.

“I was watching her study,” Jess said, sounding subdued.

“What's happening?” said Rory.

“Hey, baby,” said Lorelai, putting the pillow on the bed.

“Mommy?” said Rory, still mostly asleep. Luke heard a sharp intake of breath, and saw Jess freeze. He caught the boy's eye. Yes, he tried to convey. Do you get it? Do you understand that you have to be careful with this girl?

Rory sat up, and Lorelai smoothed her hair. “Don't wake up,” she told her daughter. “Let's take off your shoes.”

“Yes, let's,” said Rory. She stuck out her feet.

Lorelai pulled off Rory’s sneakers. “There you go,” she said. “You can go back to sleep. Whoops, other way. Don't you want to put your head on the pillow?”

“Hmm,” said Rory. She curled up in a ball with her head on the pillow.

Lorelai gave Luke a little salute. “Gentlemen,” she said, including Jess with a glance. “I want to thank you for a lovely evening.” She crawled on the bed beside Rory.

“Lorelai,” Jess said.

“Can you manage?” Lorelai said to Luke.

“He's awake, now,” he said.

Lorelai made shooing motions. “We have to get our beauty sleep. So we can be pretty in the morning. When you serve us our breakfasts.”

“Goodnight, Lorelai,” Luke said. Lorelai snuggled up to her daughter. Luke lifted a hand, and she smiled a funny smile that he didn't quite understand. She settled down, hugging her little girl.

“How much trouble am I in?” Jess asked on the walk home.

Luke put his hands in his pockets. “That depends,” he said.

“On what?”

“Lorelai was pretty calm, wasn't she?”

“Okay, that was amazing,” Jess said. “When I woke up, and finally understood what I was seeing, I almost asked for a priest.”

Luke laughed and so did Jess. Luke sneaked a question while Jess’s guard was down: “Do you love her?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Jess. He stumbled to a stop. “Oh, man,” he said.

“Had to be done,” Luke said.

“That's my own private business,” Jess said hotly.

“I think you know that's not true.”

“How I feel about Rory–”

Luke turned to face the boy. “If you had given me any other answer, I would have made you stop seeing her.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jess said belligerently. “How?”

“Don't go there,” Luke said.

“Dammit,” said Jess.

“It's a tough old world,” Luke said. “I'm not going to say she's too good for you. A lot of other people will, though. It's not like you've been trying hard to make friends, here. I'm not going to give you that speech where I say if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you, although, if you do, I will. I am going to tell you that you have to take it slow. That's your only option. She's calling the shots, Jess.”

“I know that,” Jess said.

“Jess,” said Luke.

“Okay,” he said, in a slightly less pissy tone. “I know.”

“Don't screw this up for me, either.”

“What?” said Jess.

“You heard me.”

Jess put his finger in his ear, like he was trying to dislodge some water. “You have to say that again,” he said. “I missed it the first time.”

“Hah,” said Luke. “Next time, pay attention.”

“Now I'm hanging on your every word,” Jess said.

Luke pressed his lips together.

“What are you doing?” Jess said. “Do you have a master plan?”

“I'm putting in my time,” Luke said.

Jess grinned. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” said Luke, because they were having a serious talk, and it was time to be honest.

“And one day, far off in the future--”

“I can wait.”

“For how long?”

Luke shrugged. He started to walk in the direction of the diner.

Jess had to jog to catch up. “You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”

“We already knew that,” said Luke. “And we're not going to talk about this anymore. Don't get all goofy on me. There will be no dropping of hints, no half-assed teen aged matchmaking.”

“Ick,” said Jess. “What do you take me for?”

“A young man in love,” Luke said, just to needle him a bit. “When you walk down the street with a cloud at your feet, it impairs your judgment.”

“My judgment is perfect,” Jess said irritably.

“Is it?” Luke said. They were in front of the diner. “I hope so.”

“So, is there some kind of law about step cousins?” Jess asked, most likely because turnabout was fair play. Luke sighed. Jess had unknowingly echoed a thought he'd had earlier, back in Rory’s bedroom. There had been something else, too. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there had been a moment of awkwardness surrounding their exit. He was tired. He wanted to go to bed, and let himself drift away, to push everything to the back corner of his mind. Tomorrow, he would go over the night's events with a fine tooth comb, analyzing every nuance, every gesture. He would puzzle over the words, looking for hidden meanings.

“Will I have to change my name to Billy-Bob?” Jess said irritatingly.

“You couldn't just let it lie,” Luke said tiredly. “Get upstairs and hit the sack, or so help me, I'm going to change my mind and kick your ass all over town.”

“Sweet dreams, Mister Gilmore,” Jess said. “Nighty-night.”

The End~ * ~