Gilmore Girls Pearl String

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gilmore Girls. This is becoming redundant, I know…

**A/N: **Another challenge off Our Little Corner…I love that place (excuse the blatant advertisement and professions of love). Anyway, the challenge is to base something off this slogan on a sign, "Everything good happens over coffee." Here's my attempt.

This is set between seasons 2 and 3.

Pearl String

She sat on a bench, the prom queen left to cry alone after all of the fanfare. Except she had never been a prom queen, and the fanfare was merely Emily Gilmore's idea of a normal dinner.

Lorelai had always thought that being a prom queen might be a little fun, despite the cheesiness that was associated with the title, as well as the bad horror movies. But she would have gotten to wear a pretty dress, and a tiara, and have someone else do her hair…

She was wearing the pretty dress, the pearls, the perfect make up. But she wasn't a prom queen. she wasn't even the prom queen who broke up with her boyfriend the night of prom. She was just the manager of an inn, with a teenage daughter and a mortgage on her house, with the unmistakable sadness of someone who had been hurt again and again, for the same reasons.

One of these days, she was going to get up, and swear never to darken her parents' doors again. But she would go back anyway, because she needed to. She needed the money. She needed Rory to finish out Chilton, and she only had one more year. Surely Lorelai could last Friday night dinners for another year?

No. Maybe not. She would go to dinner, have petty arguments with her mother, while her father offered his two cents worth and she would leave, defeated and weary. Rory would ask what was wrong, and she would pretend to be fine. Just another vicious cycle in the life of Lorelai Gilmore.

She bowed her head, studying the little pattern on the strap of her watch. It was pretty. Just pretty. She snuck a look at herself in the little mirror in her purse. She looked pretty. Pretty like a porcelain doll. She felt just as hollow as one, too. Why was it that Emily Gilmore could say something, just a simple little barb, and Lorelai might take it personally or laugh it off, depending on how she was feeling. Tonight, she had taken everything personally. She was tired and missed Rory and had fought with people all day at the Independence, since it had been let's-not-do-our-jobs-and-make-Lorelai-crazy-day. Was it so hard to bring up extra towels to room fourteen?

She felt the tears brimming on her eyelids. There would be nothing more fun than going home and curling up in bed and not coming out for roughly three days. But, of course, she needed a jolt of coffee before she went into hibernation.

"Hey, Luke," she said, trying to make it sound cheerful. Friday night dinner did not run her down. _You just keep telling yourself that, Lorelai…_

He barely looked up. "Coffee?"

"Of course." She sat, waiting. The diner was so empty. It was creepy. She shivered.

"You okay?" he asked, handing her the coffee.

"Yeah. Why?" She felt panicked. She had to be strong about this. She was a grown woman. She didn't fall apart over going to dinner with her parents. Anymore.

"You just seem off." He shrugged. "And you shivered. It's the middle of July."

"So?" she challenged. "I'm not allowed to shiver if I feel like it?"

"It's the middle of the summer. It's a hundred and fifty degrees out. Why on earth would you be shivering?"

"Because I'm _cold_. You wear something that isn't flannel all the time, you learn about the temperatures in the cold range."

"I see." Luke poured the coffee in her mug. "You sure?"

"I'm sure." She smiled at him. "See? Fine. What's with the third degree, anyway?"

"No reason."

"Did you miss my company or something? Did Kirk not show up and now you desperately need some conversation?"

Luke rolled his eyes. "Remind me never to give you any more concern."

"Oh, Luke…" She gave him her most sincere look. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He started to walk back to the kitchen. "Wait…do you want to say something?"

"Do you think I'm insensitive?" she asked, cradling the coffee cup.

"What?" Luke stopped walking.

"Do you think I'm insensitive?" she repeated, some sort of urgency in her eyes.

"No!" he said forcefully. "Why would I think that? You do anything and everything for anyone around here."

"Oh." Lorelai stared at her coffee. "Okay. Thanks."

Luke tried to look at her. "Where is this coming from?"

"Nowhere."

He glared at her.

"Fine." Lorelai gave him a dramatic sigh. "My mother told me I was insensitive. For what reason? That's a good question. For something I did, did not do – whatever."

"Lorelai." Luke covered the top of her mug. "You are not insensitive."

She nodded. "Okay."

He studied her face. Her eyeliner was a little smudged. She looked unquestionably sad. She missed Rory. He leaned over and kissed her, quickly, as if shocked at his own daring. "You are not insensitive," he repeated.

Lorelai took his hand. "Oh, Luke," she half-whispered.


End file.

Gilmore Girls, Romance