Jumping Cattle Hockey!

The hangers clacked loudly in the silent apartment as shirt after shirt was aggressively pushed aside.

Flannel, flannel, t-shirt, flannel, t-shirt, Limp Bizkit? Nickelback? Insane Clown Puss-WHAT? Nope. Cigarette burn over the O. Posse. Whew. Those last three must have been left behind by Jess. Flannel. More flannel, jeans, jeans and - aha! Dress shirts and dress pants!

Luke ran his hand down the sleeve of a familiar shirt, chuckling to himself over its awkward origins. Rachel had returned, and Lorelai made her very best, covert efforts to slowly drive him mad. And as frustrating and confusing as that time in his life had been, it was the first time he'd felt genuine relief at seeing Rachel leave.

Of course, Rachel couldn't simply allow her departure to be her parting gift. Instead, she brought to light something he'd been trying desperately to ignore and avoid for years: that he had long since gotten over Rachel and, in her place, had fallen head over heels for one Lorelai Gilmore.

And so it was that years after Lorelai had chosen countless brand new dress clothes, Luke stood in front of his closet, trying to put together the perfect ensemble for Emily Gilmore's famous or, more accurately, infamous Friday Night Dinner.

Knowing Lorelai, she'd not only remember the shirt, slacks, and belt, but she'd recall the store, the real price, the fake price she'd given him before splitting the cost between both their credit cards, and every the other item of clothing she'd purchased that day.

Luke grinned goofily to himself. It would be their shared secret, something to distract him enough to get through the necessary but always unnerving official Meet The Parents dinner.

Or parent in this case. He wasn't sure if Richard's lack of presence would make things better or worse.

After shedding his usual diner jeans, Luke reached for the black pants, stepped through, and pulled them up...

...Only to find that they were no longer sliding up quite so easily as they had previously.

After some tugging, he managed to get them up to his waist, fastened, and zipped.

He stared awkwardly in the mirror as he noted how very, very tight they were from the thigh up, almost to the point of indecency.

Had he made a mistake? Had Jess left these pants?

Luke pulled them off again and double-checked the brand. They were definitely the ones Lorelai had purchased.

Had they shrunk?!

Panicked, he attempted to shrug on the other dress shirts Lorelai had purchased that day only to find that they too felt smaller in size than he recalled. Even the very shirt he'd tried on that day in the diner was tighter than it had been.

His finest clothes had shrunk!

He couldn't even give Mr. Jennings a piece of his mind. Mr. Jennings had retired and moved away eons ago, taking Stars Hollow's original dry cleaning establishment with him. A far more appropriate action, given the size and uniqueness of Stars Hollow, would've been to at least sell the place, but no, it had to become Ellie's Teddy Bear Shop. Because what small town doesn't need shops specializing in both cat and teddy bear accessor-

Luke caught sight of the tag, as the size on the label brought his rant to a grinding halt.

It wasn't the shirts that shrunk.

Rather, the man had grown.

Luke had started hitting the gym more often after Jess moved in to keep both of them sane while they tried to occupy the same space. He'd found he quite liked the tension release, and since Luke had to drive two towns away to get to the gym, he also got to take a break from craziness that made up the people of Stars Hollow.

But the gym alone isn't quite what had caused him to bulk up quite so much.

It was the damn protein powder.

And that was all Kirk who, months after spending a few thousand dollars to sell the pyramid-scheme based Mega-Man powder and supplements, had failed to sell any of his stock. After finding Kirk hiding behind the diner, weeping with half of a stale donut in his hand, Luke caved and bought half of the stock of powder, which accounted for far more containers of powder than he'd ever thought possible.

Luke would never admit it when asked, but the stuff wasn't terrible, and he'd made sure the ingredients were as natural as they claimed to be.

Luke sighed and tossed the clothes into a pile to be donated. At the very least, he could breathe a little easier knowing that it was Jess and Kirk's faults.

He frowned at his remaining dress shirt and pants, sitting in his hamper of dirty laundry. He'd gone to the bank to meet with his financial advisor the day before and worn his usual attire. This would normally mean the clothes could be worn again thanks to the short span of time he'd actually had them on. But even that was out of the question, as little Davy Belleville had thrown a well aimed, ketchup-covered fry across the diner right as Luke returned - the perfect bullseye right in the middle of his left butt cheek.

Maybe he could wear them and tell Emily he'd been shot on his way to Hartford.

Luke buried his face in his hand.

He really had been spending far too much time with Lorelai if that was his solution.

"You're not dressed?" Lorelai called out, quickly shutting the door to his apartment behind her. "Or are you? You know, never mind, I like the boxers, undershirt, and dress socks look, let's go."

"You're a riot," Luke muttered. "Uh, nothing fits."

"Nothing?" Lorelai frowned and surveyed his clothes.

After a few minutes of banter, he was forced to try on the too-small pants again for visual proof.

The quirk of Lorelai's eyebrow, her pleased smile, and the area on which her eyes were trained told him all he needed to know: the pants were definitely too tight, and if she stared much longer, she'd make a new plan, and the pants would not only be tighter, but they'd be leaving for dinner later than planned...

Flustered by Lorelai's blatant ogling - as such overt gestures were still a little new to them - Luke dropped the shirt he was about to try on, and quickly bent over to retrieve it.

His hurried movement was enough for the poor garment. The tearing sound shouldn't have been a surprise, but Lorelai's look of disappointment indicated she truly had intended for him to wear the lewdly-tight dress pants.

He slid the black button-down shirt on, and noted while fastening buttons that while it was tighter than he'd normally prefer, it wasn't uncomfortable. Moving his arms around a few times, he found that the shirt was not in danger of facing the same fate as the pants. It would work well enough.

He turned around to seek Lorelai's approval and found her holding a pair of his darker jeans. He'd come to refer to them as "date night" jeans: not quite as rugged as his usual diner jeans, and the darker color made it seem like he'd put some effort into his appearance.

But denim at the Gilmore house?

"Lorelai, I don't-"

"They're not ideal, but they're as good as we've got for now. Emily's less critical of your gender's clothing, whole other story if it were me showing up in jeans. Believe me, I tried it once. Now if my father was around, you'd more than likely have an appointment set up with his tailor for a nice, new lineup of Zegnas and Armanis."

Luke grimaced. "Maybe we should just be a little late and stop at-"

"No way. We'll hear more about being late than we will about you wearing the wrong pants." She eyed the ripped pants with a sigh. "Just put the jeans on. And don't throw those pants out, I can fix the seam, and you can make dessert for me in 'em after you close up for the night. We can re-enact the day I bought those for you. But undressing you this time, and without an audience."

Luke couldn't help but laugh at the flirtatious smile directed his way. Once Luke was fully clothed, and Lorelai took one last thoughtful glance at the abandoned pants, the two made their way to Hartford.

Thus did Luke Danes arrive at his first official Friday Night Dinner in jeans.

His finger traced the edge of the envelope for what seemed like the thousandth time. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wear through the recycled paper. He stared across the street at the mailbox. It was ridiculous, he knew, to be so nervous over mailing something, but words could be powerful, and he’d always been cautious about how and when he chose to use them.

With one final shaky sigh, Luke approached the menacing blue steel container and reached for the handle.

“Careful, it bites.”

His shoulders stiffened at the familiar voice.

“Huh?”

“The door of the mailbox, it’s like a mouth. It, uh…” Lorelai replied, her tone no less awkward than he felt.

They looked at each other for a moment, each resorting to nervous tics in favor of speaking. Lorelai bit her lower lip, Luke’s eyes widened and flitted around as he searched for the right thing to say.

Despite the ice between them, their roles had always been well defined. And as such, Lorelai spoke first.

“Luke, do you have a few minutes? To talk, or, I don’t know… Not talk? See who cries ‘Uncle!’ first?”

Fighting a smirk at the visual of them sitting across from each other in a staring contest to see who ran away first, Luke nodded slowly.

“Not here,” he said quietly. “Not in Stars Hollow.”

“Yeah, okay.” Lorelai’s mind took a brief jaunt to the surrounding towns, and she informed Luke of the perfect spot: a park in a neighboring town. They agreed on a time, a few hours later in the day.

If approaching the mailbox with papers stuffed in an envelope addressed to Lorelai Gilmore was unnerving, nearing the bench she was seated at to hand-deliver it was downright terrifying.

It wasn’t enough that she had arrived first, but the description she’d given him earlier in the day did little to prepare him.

The two benches were not simply facing each other as Lorelai had detailed, but awkwardly placed barely a foot apart. For two people who’d been avoiding each other’s presence for the last few weeks, knowingly sitting right in each other’s personal space seemed ludicrous. And perfectly suited to Lorelai Gilmore, who seemed to thrive in the most ridiculous and awkward circumstances. Would that he were so skilled in uncomfortable situations.

Before he could break into a run back to his truck, a pair of blue eyes caught him, their unmasked sadness only heightening his feelings of guilt. The contents of the worn envelope he’d been carrying around all day would hardly help either of their moods.

“For awhile there, I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“You were early,” he answered defensively.

Lorelai shrugged, a small smile appearing.

Luke sighed.“I almost changed my mind a second ago.”

Lorelai’s hint of a smile grew, evolving into a knowing grin which Luke returned with a smirk of his own. Before he could think twice, he shoved the envelope into her hands.

Surprised by its nearly frayed edges and multiple creases, she raised an eyebrow in question. Luke shrugged in response, and took his designated spot on the bench opposite hers. His knees made painful contact with the bench in front of him. He adjusted his legs, cringing as the side of his knee bumped Lorelai’s.

Her fingers were learning the same edges of the envelope his own had grown familiar with over the past few days, and her hesitance to open it pushed Luke’s patience to its limit.

“I owe you an apology,” he started.

“No, I… That’s not what I-”

“Just open the envelope.”

He stared ahead as she followed his instructions, his eyes tracing the roots of a nearby tree, their entangled, convoluted twists and curves diving deep into the earth for several inches before resurfacing, embarking on paths only known to the tree itself. Distracted by the sound of a sniffle, Luke tilted his gaze back to Lorelai, finding her staring at her own writing.

“You’re giving me my apology back?” she asked softly.

He shook his head and grabbed the paper from her, his finger crushing Garfield’s face slightly as he flipped it over, revealing his own writing on the other side.

There was no way she could’ve read the entire note given how quickly she looked back up. Before Luke could growl at her refusal to follow his instructions, she shook her head at him.

“You don’t need to apologize for defending your family, that’s-”

“If you’re not gonna read all of my letter, at least take a good look through the other papers in there.”

Watching her read his own heartfelt apology had proven difficult, but keeping his eyes on her as she read through the other pages of writing he’d included was painful. Nevertheless, it was on par with cauterizing a wound: harrowing, yet healing.

He wondered what her reaction would be when she finally reached the last page. His own experience with the details had sent him through a few different emotional peaks. Anger, mortification, sadness, and guilt were among them.

Coop, a childhood friend of Luke’s and a member of the local police force, had stopped by the diner after Jess’s incident with Rory’s car and wrist. It had been Luke’s first introduction to the papers he’d just bequeathed to Lorelai. He knew it was serious when Coop suggested they talk upstairs rather than in the diner itself.

“There were a few witnesses,” Coop had said grimly. He’d flicked the leafs of paper with his finger. “These damn kids may try to save each other’s asses, but we’ve got individual accounts of the shenanigans they were up to.”

It started with old Ms. Rex, who’d been out for an evening stroll with her adopted Great Dane. Though she’d gone into excessive detail about Thomas’s absurdly small bladder compared to his overall size, she’d eventually gotten to the point:

It wasn’t the swerving that had caught her attention, it was the shouting. The driver, his focus on the melting ice cream cone in his hand instead of on the road ahead, was laughing loudly as the passenger reached for the wheel. Rather than hand the passenger his ice cream and drive responsibly, the car had actually sped up, the driver paying little heed to maintaining control of the car.

She hadn’t been able to identify them, but the car had been familiar, similar to something she’d driven in her own youth.

A few houses down, Jed Brown had been chasing a raccoon away from his trash cans. He’d watched with horror as a driver scrambled to get his hands back on the wheel to help the passenger steer the car away from the startled animal.

He didn’t see the crash itself - the driver’s ice cream was flung out the window, landing squarely on Mr. Brown’s nose.

“On the bright side,” Mr. Brown had said optimistically, “The coldness of the ice cream helped keep the swelling down from the damn cone.”

Two more neighbors with similar stories were included, along old Mrs. Slutsky’s ranting statement. The crash had scared away the grubs she’d been hunting in preparation for her upcoming fishing trip. After a lengthy diatribe, she did, eventually, confirm the boy had shouted a quick, “You okay?” before scampering off into the wood. Despite the girl’s response in the affirmative, Mrs. Slutsky was a retired nurse and knew the angle of the girl’s wrist proved otherwise. It was she who’d called for an ambulance.

Only one resident had correctly identified Rory and Jess, Coop had noted, cautioning Luke against accusing the town of, once again, trying to defend or excuse Jess’s behavior to the town. Someone had been hurt, a car totaled, and the raccoon was still unaccounted for.

“She didn’t tell me this,” Lorelai said, finishing the last page of Coop’s report. “She didn’t tell me any of this.”

“She was protecting him. I’d been too, I guess. He’s not a dumb kid most of the time, he has so much potential, and he’d rather steal gnomes, money, and break Rory’s wrist than care about anyone but himself. And if that’s all he cares about, he can be by himself, away from here, away from Rory, and away from any temptation to ruin every good thing anyone tries to do for him.”

Lorelai remained silent. She’d seen Jess’s issues early on, and warned Luke the very first day Jess had arrived. Luke had rebuffed her then, but from the few words she’d scanned after glancing at his response to her apology, she knew he hadn’t forgotten. There was no use rubbing salt in the wound when he was already hurting over this troubled child’s countless transgressions.

Instead, she cringed as she thought back to her own childhood and the bad boys she’d been attracted to, defended, and been dragged down by. As painful as it was to watch Rory go through the same phases, she’d hoped she’d given her enough of a foundation to not make the same mistakes.

Frustrated with Rory and Jess, and hurting for Luke and herself, Lorelai shifted her leg slightly to softly and briefly bump Luke’s. A small sign of solidarity as they made their way through the latest snag in their friendship. He didn’t jerk away, though he couldn’t hide his look of surprised approval at the gesture. She tried it again, pushing her knee against his for a moment longer than the last time. His knee shifted to tap hers back. Their gazes met, directing sad, supportive smiles toward each other. Understanding was as important as forgiveness.

“I am sorry I yelled at you,” she said, holding up her original note for emphasis before setting it in the bag beside her.

“Don’t be. I would’ve yelled at me too. I know that kid can’t go five minutes without supervision. I should’ve stayed in the diner. I asked Rory to tutor him, not babysit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“A rare moment of optimism.”

“See? That’s why I don’t venture into that area,” Luke grumbled.

“Ah, there’s my Luke!” Lorelai chuckled, grateful to receive the smiley-eyed smirk she’d been missing.

Tempting fate, Lorelai pressed her knee against his again, but this time chose not to pull it away. The shared warmth reassured her, made her feel as though the energy passing between them was healing the damage and distance of the past few weeks.

She didn’t hate Jess. She knew what it was like to feel unsettled and unhappy. She’d avoided taking it as far as he had, had never endangered the life of another person, but she understood Luke wanting to save his nephew. It was the same chance Mia Holloway had taken on Lorelai so many years ago. Jess simply wasn’t ready for it, too damaged and angry to understand the importance of Luke’s gesture.

As if reading her mind, Luke sighed heavily. “I never should’ve brought him here.”

“But maybe it’s good you did. He might be your sister’s son, but he knows you’re the one that’s there for him.”

“Does he?”

“At the end of the day, Luke, you’re about as loyal as they come. You’re not the type to give up easily, and you didn’t give up on him. Once he works things out in his head, he’ll realize you’re in his life for good.”

“For good, huh? Like permanently forever?”

“Something like that.”

Luke and Lorelai grinned at each other, simultaneously reaching for each other’s hand, squeezing to acknowledge their renewed, permanent places in each other’s lives.

They stood, each secretly regretting the loss of their brief physical connections. Lorelai turned to distract herself and caught sight of the tree Luke had been looking at earlier. She gestured toward its base.

“You don’t know where it all begins or ends, but it’s all tied up together.”

He nodded, stealing one final glance at the tree’s interwoven roots, and smiled to himself, his thoughts far from his nephew.

Fin.

DON’T HATE ME!!

Sooo, here’s the thing about Jess, and this story arc in particular.

I have a lot of issues with Jess, and I think the only thing Luke did right in this story arc was sending Jess away. I also believe Lorelai was justified in her anger at Luke. Luke had been enabling Jess’s bad behavior already by never forcing him to be held accountable for any of it. The snotty little kid yelled at Luke’s friend the very day he appeared on the scene, and Luke not only allowed it, but defended it. Jess stole someone’s property. Luke put it back. Jess stole money. Luke defended him. Jess ruined property. Luke didn’t make Jess clean it up.