TROUVAILLE ... l.danes (REWRITE)

chapter forty; the present

HEAVEN EXISTS IN THE DARK OF THIS ROOM

two-thousand-and-three

LUKE'S DINER is dark when Shelley arrives, hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jacket. The quick occurring of Spring has brought along a faint warmth that permeates even as the sun sinks below the low skyline of Stars Hollow, stars kissing the sky while a breeze merely plays with the ends of her hair.

She knocks on the glass window of the door and almost immediately, it is swung open and Luke is standing in front of her. She grins. He was waiting for her. It makes her more giddy than she'd like to admit. She swings up onto the tips of her toes and loops her arms around her neck to greet him, pressing her body right against his. In a breath, his arms slip around her waist and keep her locked in place for a few moments.

She's not so sure when she got used to this. Having him touch her so casually again. Sometimes, when they're cuddling, he drapes her hair over his fingers, or grazes the few freckles on her shoulder, or lazily – very lazily – scatters kisses where he'd hoped to have left hickies once upon a time upon her neck. Sometimes, when they're eating together, his hand sits on her knee, finger tapping against the bone to remind her of his existence, or to distract her as he steals fries when she's not looking. She still can't believe it, even with his hands on her waist, his eyes scouring her body.

After all these years, it finally happened.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Instantly her cheeks flush. Even the simplest sentence is enough to break the dam of emotions flooding her chest. "I like that dress on you." His thumb caresses the green satin sitting on her hip of the button-up dress she wears. She would melt if she could, become a puddle right here on the stone steps of his diner.

"Like it enough not to be mad at me?"

Luke smiles as he rubs his nose against her. "Absolutely not, gorgeous." She groans as she steps back out of his clutches, smoothing down her outfit from when he'd messed it up just a touch. He's still smiling as he locks the door to the diner behind him.

"I thought you were over this."

"I told you. I've never liked town meetings." 

He meets her at the bottom of the steps and swings his hand forward to catch her fingers between his. The movement tugs her into his side. He's way more touchy with no one around, just the two of them, almost entirely conjoined at all times. She has to be the one to lead them forward, even when he tries to tug her in the direction of the lake, where they can sit with their feet in the water and talk without interruption. Luke likes talking to her, she's realized, when they're alone and nobody can overhear his gruff whisperings, the way his voice always pitches a little lower when he dips his head close to her and tells her everything that's on his mind. He always has a lot on his mind he won't tell anyone else.

Luke clings to her side, groaning about raffle night at the town meeting. Once a month, Miss Patty does a raffle night that includes winning whatever tat she can pick up from the local businesses. Luke hates it. Hates having to give up a coupon for a free meal. Shelley loves it. She picks out a few books in advance and writes heartfelt notes on the title page. She knows at least one person will appreciate it.

But, it's not raffle night.

Instead, all Shelley can think about is the way that Luke smells. The aftershave that he puts on in the morning and then never has to reapply, but still clings there to his neck. The cooking oil that splatters on him even when he's not spending all day in the kitchen. The earthy scent that he kicks up when he walks in the woods just to get away from everyone. Sometimes, she can tell when he's spent the day with Jess because there's a faint smell of cigarettes still hanging around him, like a shadow of smoke that follows him everywhere.