POKING NORMALCY IN THE BACKSIDE

By Oregano

                Luke raised his eyebrow as Rory entered the Diner.  If she had been Lorelai, it would have probably taken her at least a month to set foot in there.  Rory was a brave girl.  He smiled as softly as he can (which really wasn’t possible) and brought her a cup of coffee without being asked.

                Rory stared at the mug and lifted her tired eyes to Luke’s face.

                “Thanks,” she said weakly.

                Luke noticed her glancing around the place, obviously looking for The Prick Who Shall Be Left Nameless (until he stopped freaking the bejesus out of Luke). 

                “He’s upstairs.”

                “Oh.  Is he sick or something?”

                Yeah, sick in the mind. 

                “No.  Yes.  I don’t know.”

                “I kind of wanted to talk to him, Luke.”

                “Rory, I don’t think now’s a good time.  He’s a freaking zombie.  It’d be like having a conversation with a baseball.  How about you; are you feeling alright?”

                She sighed and said, “This must be what it felt like whenever he saw me and Dean together.”

                “He’s been known to have broken a few pencils.  Plates sometimes; when you guys kissed.”

                That comment made Rory smile a little bit.

                “The Prick really cares about you, you know?”

                “Well, he did.  But apparently, not anymore,” Rory said quietly.  Then, after a pause, “Did you just call Jess ‘The Prick’?”

                Luke slowly made his way up the stairs that night.  He had just closed up all by himself, with no help from The Useless Blob Of Sorrow.

                “Oh, my God.”

                Earlier that morning, Luke left his nephew on the couch, staring off into oblivion.  When he got back that night, he hadn’t moved an inch.  He was seriously still sitting there, still staring into space.

                “Get your ass into bed if you’re just going to take up very good couch space.”

                Dead Boy gave him a dull glance and slowly, wordlessly, shuffled to his room.

                Jesus Christ.

                Luke got dressed into his flannel pajamas and crawled into bed.

                When the night has come

                And the land is dark

                And the moon is the only light we’ll see

                Well I won’t be afraid

                No, I won’t be afraid

                Just as long as you stand, stand by me

                Luke smiled in bed, as the familiar words of Ben E. King wafted to his room. 

                So darlin’ darlin’ stand by me

                Won’t you stand by me

                Just as long as you stand, stand by me

                If the sky that we look upon

                Should tumble and fall

                And the mountain should crumble to the sea

                I won’t cry, I won’t cry

                No, I won’t shed a tear

                Just as long as you stand, stand by me

                So darlin’ darlin’ –

                Suddenly, the relaxing sound of the soft guitar fell away, only to be rushed by a flow of gritty, electric guitar and almost violent bashing of the drums.  Oh, God.  The punk scene had gotten to Ben E. King…

                I won’t cry, I won’t cry

                No I won’t be afraid

                Just as long as you fucking stand, stand by me

                Luke growled his covers off and stood.  He entered the living room with a hard glare at his nephew.  Only he wasn’t on the Godamn couch.

                “Ah, crap.  Jess!  You look like a freaking homicide crime scene.”

                Face down on the floor, immobile, lay Hopelessness in its truest form.  Luke walked over to the stereo and turned it off, and in the first time in three days, he heard Jess speak.

                “NoFX not your style?” he asked flatly, not moving at all.

                “No.” 

Luke felt a wave of childishness and sat on the floor next to Jess’ motionless body.  He planned the angle perfectly.  So, as his backside landed on the wood, Jess received a generous view of his ass.  That would teach him.

                “Nice view, Luke.  Piling up on the calories, I see.”

                Well, at least it got him talking.  Honestly, Luke was getting really worried about the kid.

                “What’s bothering you, Jess?”

                “Everything.”

                “Care to be a little more specific?”

                “Not really.”

                “Jess.”

                “Shane broke up with me, alright?”

                “The same night as when Rory grabbed you and gave you one hell of a kiss,” Luke said, more to himself than Jess.

                Jess grunted.  Hmm.  The kid was starting to assimilate to Luke’s gestures.

                “I’m going back to New York.”

                Luke’s head snapped to attention.

                “When?”

                “Tomorrow afternoon.”

                The past year with Jess had been one of the best times of Luke’s life.  He’d never admit that to Jess, of course.  Luke wasn’t insane.  Taking care of him gave Luke’s life more meaning than just opening and closing the Diner.

                He suddenly remembered Lorelai’s reaction when she found out that Jess had gotten under her skin.  He guessed that Jess got under his, too.

                There was no way he’d let Jess go back to Liz like this.  Jess needed someone to take care of him, and Liz certainly wasn’t the right person for the job.

                “Okay.  I’ll call Liz tomorrow to let her know you’re coming back.  Again,” he lied.

                Jess made no answer but just lay there, probably contemplating his life and how Rory Gilmore made him feel about it.  And at the same time, Luke stayed still, his mind spinning with a great plan to get Jess and Rory together (since Shane was sadly, yet conveniently, out of the picture).