AN: Hello everyone! So, I was reading over reviews for Same but Different (my other R/M fanfic), and some of the back and forth was about what the right speed was for this couple. It got me thinking about how differently things may have gone the night of the The Naked Guy. And here's the result!

For those that know my other story, this Marty is a little different from "my" Marty. He doesn't have the same hangups or cluelessness, so he's a bit more observant and sure of himself as a result. I wouldn't say Rory is OUT of character, but she is definitely right at the edge of her character. Hope you like it!

Oh! I should also add ... I MET MARTY! Wayne Wilcox is in The Normal Heart on Broadway, which I just saw this past weekend. Afterward, I got a picture with him and I told him I rooted for Marty the whole time (I was too shy to fess up about the fanfic). I brought Season 4 with me for him to sign. In his autograph he wrote, "Thanks for rooting for me." I even got to talk to him about the play a little. He was so nice and sweet. It was such a great experience!

As always, I own nothing but my gratitude for my beta, Jewels12.

Rory woke up in the middle of the night, cursing herself for not eating enough at the party. Surely after eighteen years experience with the Gilmore appetite, she would know better than to go to bed even a little hungry.

She opened and closed her door quietly. Paris was a chore under normal circumstances, so Rory had no desire to deal with one that had been woken up at four in the morning.

Navigating her way through the darkened common room, she bumped into an end table. Rory grabbed the teetering lamp and froze, listening hard for signs of life behind any of the three doors. That was when she heard it.

Snoring.

It was a deep, resounding snore, and it wasn't coming from any of her suite-mates. Rory crept over to the main door and pressed her ear to the wood to confirm her suspicions. Someone was definitely sleeping in the hallway outside.

Rory was a reporter. And a reporter needed to investigate. A reporter would not be scared off by moonlight and ghostly shadows.

She opened the door.

Moonlight definitely wasn't scary out here. Not with the way it bounced off various slopes and planes of the naked form that was sprawled on the floor. Rory glanced around each end of the hallway to see if there were any other nudists around. Other than the two of them, the hall was deserted.

She crept closer, tilting her head to better align it with his face. If Rory wasn't mistaken, this was the boy she had been too nervous to talk to on the first day of classes. The boy who had made such great points in class today, who she had worked up the nerve to approach at the floor party until the Doublemint twins intercepted her. The boy who kept catching her eye and was now giving her an eyeful to catch.

Rory shook herself to her senses. She couldn't just keep standing here, staring at him. Someone might come through, and she'd look like a total creep. Rory considered the enticingly smooth skin set before her.

She crouched next to him and reached out a hand. It indulged itself in a very short glide across his shoulder before squeezing down and giving him a gentle shake.

The mop of brown hair lifted off the ground. His eyes found hers. He smiled.

"Hi," the boy said groggily.

Her hand regretfully pulled away from him. "Hi." A small quirk was playing at her lips as Rory waited for him to realize his predicament.

He dropped his gaze to the slab of stone underneath him. "I'm on the floor."

"You were sleeping," she added.

The boy tucked his chin and inspected his bare chest. "I have no clothes on."

"No, you don't," Rory confirmed.

He looked up at her again. "I'm on the floor, I have no clothes on, and you're pretty, so I must be … on the wrong floor."

"Oh! Um..." Rory's hum vibrated with the giggle she was suppressing. Is he even aware of what he just said? "Yeah, you are. Where's your room?"

"I think up. Are we on the first floor?"

"Yes."

"Then up. Any idea how long I've been here?"

Other than the five minutes I spent checking you out? "No."

"So you have no idea how many people have walked by while I've...?"

Had your cute butt on full display? "Sorry."

"Great. Now for the rest of my time at Yale, I'm gonna be 'the naked guy.'"

Promise? "Well, it's been really quiet out here for a while now, so hopefully no one but me has actually seen you yet."

"Oh yeah?"

"I promise I won't say anything." It'll be our little secret.

"You're a very kind person." The muscles in his back tensed as he pressed his hands to the floor and pushed himself up.

Rory knew she should turn away. Her eyes, however, were not on the same page. They roamed over the rest of his body. They passed over his face and saw that he had caught her looking. One of his eyebrows was raised in a bemused smirk.

She hastily rose to her feet as he did, staring down at the floor in front of her feet. "Um, you can borrow this." Rory shrugged off the blue robe and held it out in front of her.

"Thanks," he said as he took it out of her hands.

She crossed her arms. Without moving her head, Rory allowed herself one last glance at him before the robe hid his body away.

"Hey, weren't you in my Japanese Fiction class today?" he asked with a forced casual air.

He remembers me? She had to consciously kick-start her heart and lungs so she could reply. "Yeah, that's right."

"I thought so. Hi, I'm Marty." He extended his arm to her.

"Um … Rory." She raised her head and shook his hand.

"Thank you for saving me, Rory. I owe you my life." Marty capped off his dramatics by bending forward and kissing her hand. When he straightened up, he shrugged and added, "Or, at least my reputation."

The tingle that radiated from his kiss left her speechless. The way the robe slightly loosened from his bow and now uncovered a little more of Marty's chest rendered all coherent thought impossible. When he pulled his hand away, Rory could do little more than stare into his warm brown eyes.

"So I should probably try and find my room. And my pants, 'cause that's where I kept my keys."

You can't let him leave yet. Say something! "So I literally save your butt, and you aren't even going to explain yourself?"

"Oh," he said through a nervous laugh. Marty raised one had to his head, further loosening the robe. "Let's just say alcohol seriously impairs my ability to play poker."

"Strip poker, then?"

"Yale certainly is living up to its reputation of only letting in the smart ones."

"And how did you end up out here?"

"I don't know." Marty turned to one side then the other, taking in more of his surroundings. "I think I may have passed out at the table. I'm a bit of a light weight in that department. I'd guess the inhabitants of Suite 4 didn't want a naked stranger in their room and tossed me out."

"Without your clothes?"

"Not everyone is as nice as you, Rory."

She felt a light flush bloom on her face.

"Or as pretty when they blush," he said with a teasing smile.

Rory dropped her gaze and immediately realized her mistake. The robe was barely holding together, exposing him down to his navel.

"Are you cold? Without your robe?"

"No," she whispered. In fact, Rory was feeling rather overheated. Wondering what would make him randomly ask that, she looked down at herself and saw the thin fabric of her PJ shirt clinging to two very prominent points. Rory squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment.

"You know," Marty said quietly, "I think I tricked myself into believing you were going to come over and talk to me at the party."

Her forehead relaxed. He was neither repulsed by her obvious attraction nor completely crude about it. Rory's eyes quickly flitted to his. "I was," she breathed. "I wanted to."

Marty shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe I missed my second chance to talk to you."

She smiled shyly. "Third time's a charm."

As she gazed into his eyes and assessed all the things that were being left unsaid between the two of them, Rory had a feeling he was doing the same.

"Rory?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Her mouth was completely dry. Rory was sure if she tried to speak, the only sound she could produce would be a pathetic squeak. Instead, she nodded her head.

His hands touched her waist. Her fingers curled around his biceps. His soft lips brushed against hers and she was hooked. Rory parted her lips slightly and Marty's tongue was instantly there to fulfill her unspoken invitation.

She had expected him to taste sour, considering his evening activities. The sweet flavor that floated over her tongue proved Rory wrong.

One of Marty's hands moved to her back, pressing their bodies closer together. Rory's fingers traveled up his arms and toyed with his neck.

It wasn't clear who stepped first, but somehow they were both walking Rory to the wall behind her. With her head supported by the bricks, Marty applied more pressure as he kissed her hungrily.

Rory's hands left his neck, grazed over his collar bones, and smoothed down the hard planes of his chest. As they drifted lower, Marty moved his own hands to the wall on either side of her. He pushed his body away from hers briefly, allowing the last traces of friction holding the robe closed to give way. Her hands slid to his back to press his body and his length against her.

Marty wrenched his mouth from hers, his chest heaving rapidly. "Rory … You haven't had … too much to drink, have you?" His eyes were desperate.

Rory could tell he was aching to continue kissing her but didn't want to risk taking advantage of anything. Her heart fluttered then she released a soft laugh. Considering their current state of affairs, the thought that had entered her mind was amusingly ironic: What a gentleman. "No. Just soda for me."

He immediately attacked her neck. Between the kissing, and licking, and sucking, Marty whispered, "This doesn't make any sense."

"I know," she agreed. But in a way, it did. The fact that they had both been nervously tongue-tied when they first met surely indicated a mutual attraction. She couldn't speak for Marty, but Rory had been impressed with him during class. He was the only one Rory really wanted to talk to at the party, and he was hoping she would. Was it really so surprising that her body arched toward him now, begging for more?

One of Marty's hands returned to her waist. It tucked under the hem of her shirt and his thumb immediately swept across her delicate skin.

Knowing her arm was in his way, Rory extracted it and brought her hand up to play with the soft curls at the back of his neck.

Marty did not disappoint. His palm slowly claimed more of her body, his wrist dragging the shirt along to uncover her skin. He finally cupped her. His fingers alternately caressed her flesh and gently squeezed it. Rory felt him throb against her abdomen.

Feelings … Desires … Needs that she hadn't experienced in months suddenly cropped up to the surface. They made Rory want to do impulsive things, like drag Marty to the couch in her common room. She knew she wouldn't realistically do such a thing (at least, not tonight), but her body ached to indulge some of her cravings.

Before she ran the risk of talking herself out of it, Rory whisked her other hand away from Marty's back and grabbed the fabric that was bunched under her arm. Marty barely had enough time to detach himself from her neck to see her shirt being thrown to the floor.

"Jeez, Rory," he croaked. Marty's head ducked to join his hand at her breast. When he took her nipple into his mouth, Rory gasped and felt the bricks bite into her shoulders due to the force she was using to press herself up to him.

A warm rush pooled between her legs. Her hips moved slightly, seeking out the pressure of his hardened flesh. Rory's moan of disappointment when his mouth left her breast quickly turned to one of immense pleasure. Not only were they kissing again, but Marty was slowly rubbing his tip against her swollen bud. Despite the two layers of clothing separating them, it was driving her senseless.

Suddenly their lips separated with a pop. They stared at each other in horror as the gasps, giggles, and patter of footsteps faded away behind Marty.

The spell was broken.

"Oh god," Rory breathed. "Oh god!" she repeated, her voice rising in panic.

"Rory, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay." She looked around desperately for her top. When Rory started to crouch down to pick it up, she gasped. She was eye to eye with his erection. Rory shot to her feet again, her shirt still on the floor.

"Here, let me." Marty made a move to bend down.

"No!" Rory grabbed him by the lapels and shielded herself behind him again in case anyone else showed up. "Just, here." She wrapped each side of the robe around Marty and pressed his hand to his stomach. "Hold that."

Rory stooped to snatch up her top, spread it across her chest, and then ran for her door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Marty bolted after her, but his surprise had cost him valuable seconds. She had already closed the door and flung her back against it by the time he caught up. "Rory, please. I'm not asking to keep … Can we just talk for a second?"

Rory closed her eyes and shook her head in the empty room. If she went out and talked to him, she knew she would be back to making out with him in mere minutes. Rory's only chance to save her dignity was to wait for him to walk away.

"I know you're still there. I can hear you catching your breath."

Since she had failed at being silent anyway, Rory shoved her arms into her shirt and yanked it over her head. Then she leaned against the door again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think I … I mean, I thought I had your permission. I wouldn't have done any of that if I didn't think…."

"I'm not mad at you, Marty," Rory whispered through the door. She was mad at herself, for losing so much control over a guy she had known for less than a week. Though Rory didn't technically feel dirty, she felt like she should.

There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again. "Rory, just answer this, please. Are you sorry about what we did, or are you just sorry someone saw us doing it?"

Rory opened her mouth. Then she clamped it closed again. She didn't want to lie, but if she told him the truth she would be confessing more than she was ready to. "Go find your pants, Marty."

His sad sigh was loud enough to make it through her door. "Goodnight, Rory. I'll see you tomorrow."

She waited for his footsteps to fade away. Then she turned the lock on the door and hurried back to bed, all thoughts of food replaced by a different kind of hunger.

Rory had a fitful, unsatisfying night of sleep. When she woke up for the millionth time, she decided she couldn't take it anymore and headed to the bathroom.

The shower was torture. Running the puff over her skin only reminded Rory of where Marty's hands had been; where she had wanted his hands to be. She cranked the handle to the right and blasted herself with freezing cold water.

Just as Rory finished getting dressed, Paris stirred in her bed. Though she knew no one had any reason to question her, she just wasn't ready to face anyone yet. Rory hastily threw her wet hair into a pony tail, grabbed her backpack, and tiptoed out of the room.

She silently crept across the common area, unbolted the door and yanked it open. A body fell across the threshold, causing Rory to slap a palm over her mouth to stifle her yelp.

"Marty? What the hell are you doing?"

He jostled his head and returned to the sitting position he must have been in a moment ago. "I told you I'd see you tomorrow. Well, today now."

Rory heard a noise behind her, so she squeezed past Marty and shut the door. "What if I hadn't been the first one out this morning?" she hissed as he pushed himself off the floor.

Marty rose to his full height and shrugged. "Then I would have asked for you."

"You're impossible!" she said with a huff then turned to march out of the building.

"Why?" Marty asked, jogging to keep up with her despite his long stride.

"I can't have a guy pouring into our room asking for me," she all but shrieked.

"Why not? It's the guy who has to worry about being embarrassed in that situation, not you. Rory … Rory, stop!"

He spoke so sharply that Rory did stop, more out of surprise at his tone than actual obedience.

"I left your door last night, planning out how to apologize to you. Then I realized I didn't do anything wrong."

"So this is all on me?"

"No! Rory, you didn't do anything wrong either. Don't you get it? Nothing we did was wrong. Okay, maybe it would have been a little better if it hadn't been so public…."

"A lot better," Rory muttered.

Marty raised his eyebrows in a hopeful expression and she realized she had just answered his question from last night. "Rory, can I take you out on a date? A proper date: movie, dinner, simple walk home. I promise I'll keep my clothes on the whole time. I won't even take my jacket off."

Rory chuckled. Still, she was hesitant. "I don't know…."

"I know this is all out of order. Just let me show you what kind of guy I really am. I swear, I'm not Naked Guy any more than you're Naked Girl."

"Hey, I never ended up naked, mister." She sounded stern, but her eyes gave away her mirth.

Marty beamed at her endearingly. "Fair enough. Almost Naked Girl, then. Now, will you please go on a date with me?"

Rory smiled more shyly than she had any right to considering their escapades last night. "I'd love to, Marty."