A/N: How is it that it always takes me more than a month to post on this story? I'm so sorry, once again! I am hoping things will start to slow down at school, so I'll have time to write more often, but then again, I only have about a month left for this semester, so I know all the heavy-duty projects are going to start piling up! I'm going to try harder to work on this, though. There's not a terribly lot more, maybe two more chapters? Just so you have an idea. :) Once again, I'm really sorry about the lack of updating! I'm just really busy. :*(

Disclaimer: I don't own Ugly Betty. :*(

Chapter 3

Daniel stirred against the couch. He rubbed his eyes blearily and groaned at the sharp pain in his neck. Don't sleep on the couch.

He glanced around sleepily, stilling when he saw Betty was curled up at the other end of the couch. His eyes traced her body all the way down to her legs—tangled with his in the middle of the couch. He stilled. What would it be like to wake up next to Betty, wrapped in his arms, every morning? He could imagine her tucked against him, as he nuzzled his face into her neck. She would smell amazing—like lavender and crème—of course. She always did. The thought made him weak with desire.

He quickly extracted himself and settled in the opposite corner of the couch from Betty, crossing his legs Indian-style. In the two weeks since he'd arrived in London, he'd learned it was dangerous to get too close to Betty.

Much as he'd like to indulge in one of the many fantasies he'd had regarding his best friend in the last couple of months since he'd danced with her at Hilda's wedding, this was Betty. If they ever went beyond friendship, he wanted to do it right. Betty deserved that.

He leaned against the back of the couch, watching her as she slept. He hadn't really seen her sleep in the years he had known her, and, he realized with a start, sleep just exemplified every good thing that Betty was.

She looked so peaceful, so calm, sleeping there, her thick, dark hair cascading around her face, her fists tucked under that determined chin of hers. Gah, he loved her.

Pushing to his feet, he bent over her and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. I love you. He wished he could say it, could find the right moment. She'd been filling every moment with her lively banter and all that he'd missed since he'd let her leave without so much as a good-bye.

He crouched by her side, tucking her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on the side of her face. Her skin was so soft.

She was so beautiful. How was it possible he hadn't noticed her at all until two months ago? Now he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Suddenly, the thought of spending the day without her was almost unbearable. He leaned in a few inches, kissing her shoulder and caressing the spot with his thumb, rubbing the kiss in.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, wandering into the kitchen. Today was Saturday. That meant Betty would have the day off. He had been trying to find things to fill his days with, since Betty was busy with work and he… wasn't… but today—today they could spend the day together.

He puttered around her kitchen, discovering her breakfast food. Pancake mix, eggs, and recipes for coffee cake would be of no help to him. Betty knew how awful of a cook he was.

He grinned when he found a loaf of wheat bread and some strawberry jam in the refrigerator. Perfect.

He set to work.

Daniel crouched down by Betty. Her think, dark hair had fallen across her face again. He steadied the platter with one hand and reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. He caressed her cheek gently. He knew he probably shouldn't, but she was sleeping. Would she really know? Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he could stop himself, even if he wanted to.

"Betty?" he called softly. "Betty, wake up, baby."

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. What was he doing? He couldn't call Betty that! He'd wanted to call her that for months now, but it wasn't fair to either of them to make something where there was nothing—yet.

She stirred and turned to face him. Reaching for her glasses setting on the top of the couch, she slipped them on and blinked at him a few times. "Daniel?"

He managed a friendly, amused smile. He wanted to tug her a few inches closer and claim her lips in a kiss. Each day he saw her, each day he learned something new about her, he fell deeper and deeper in love with her. Seeing her so adorably vulnerable as she woke up nearly did him in. At that moment, he knew with a conviction that he rarely had felt before that he wanted to wake up next to Betty every morning for the rest of his life. The idea of being without her, even for just a moment, filled his chest with a kneading ache.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. He wouldn't tell Betty he was hopelessly in love with her over breakfast-on-the-couch.

He handed her the tray. "I made you breakfast."

Her face lit up. "Aww, Daniel! You're so sweet."

He ducked his head, embarrassed. "You were so tired last night. I thought you should sleep in."

She smiled at him sweetly, taking the tray from his hands. Her smile slipped a little when she saw the contents of the tray. Cheerios and… orange juice? She looked up at him. "Daniel, what happened to my milk?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I—I was thirsty?" he offered.

She rolled her eyes. "I definitely had enough milk for you to drink a glass and leave enough for a bowl of cereal for me."

He ducked his head again. "I—uh, I kinda spilled."

Much as she wanted to, she couldn't be angry at Daniel, especially when he was being so sweet, trying to make her breakfast in bed. She looked down at the bowl of cereal dubiously and back up at him. A small smile broke out onto her face, and she squeezed his arm. "Thank you, Daniel."

His heart soared at her affirmation. There was a very limited list of things Daniel was actually good at. Breakfast in bed wasn't one of them. He knew that. But to see her smile, even after he messed up (and he knew it), instilled a confidence in him he couldn't explain.

"It's not that bad, you know," he said, settling on the floor as he watched her take a bite of the slice of toast, strawberry jam spread on top. "The cereal, I mean. Alex and I ate it all the time in college."

She glanced over at him, snorting before her lips turned up in an amused smile. "Of course you did."

"What?" he defended. "It's really not that bad. Try it."

She eyed him warily but took a bite anyway. She grimaced and took a bite from her toast again. She handed him the bowl. "Here. You eat that. I'll eat the rest."

He studied her while she ate. She was so… there really weren't words for it. He loved the way everything was so simple, so black-and-white, to her. He loved the way she ate like English royalty. Most of all, he loved her hope, her naïvete, her enthusiasm.

She was more subdued this morning, though, still adjusting to the waking world.

She must have noticed that he was staring at her, though, and she gave him a funny look. "What? Why do you keep staring at me? Did I grow an extra mole in my sleep or something?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, ah… but you do have some jam on your upper lip." He tapped the mirrored spot on his own face, and she quickly wiped it away with one of the napkins he'd put on the platter.

She settled back against the couch, eating the peaches 'n' crème yogurt cup he'd found in her refrigerator. He set the empty bowl on the platter, and leaned back against his hands, resting on the floor behind him. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" she asked. "For me?" Her face lit up. "Daniel, I love surprises!"

He chuckled. "I know."

"What is it?"

"Well, if I tell you, it won't be a surprise, will it?"

She scowled at him, but he only laughed. "Just hurry up and get ready. I'm gonna head back to my flat and change. I'll meet you back here in an hour?"

She nodded, finishing up the small bowl of grapes, and he squeezed her hand in farewell.

As the taxi carried Daniel across London to his own flat, he slipped into a fitful sleep. Betty's couch hadn't been exactly comfortable, and he'd been staying up late with Betty for the past few nights, bouncing off ideas for her new magazine, making fun of English television, occasionally eating late-night fast food.

Somewhere between dreamland and his hopes and dreams, Betty came to him, dressed in all her Hilda's-wedding glory. They were back at the reception. She sidled over to him, standing at the edge of the dance floor. "Hey, Betty," he said quietly, turning to look at her.

She offered him one of her radiant smiles, and he reached out for her hand, tugging her toward the closest exit. Her eyes widened as her eyes flew from him to the room around them. "Daniel—where are we goi—"

He took her glass of champagne from her hand and set it on the table. "C'mon, Betty. I need to tell you something."

She let him pull her out of the room, and she pulled to a stop around the corner from the double doors. "Daniel, what's going on?"

He took in her beautiful face, so full of worry. Why had it taken him so long to realize it? He loved Betty. He needed her.

He studied her face breathlessly, her questioning eyes, the slight tilt of her lips in a worried smile. He reached out for one of her hands, stroking it with his thumb. "Betty, I'm crazy about you. I don't know when it happened—I never expected it to—but it has, and Betty, you follow me everywhere! I can't get you out of my head, and I don't know if I want to, even. You're so beautiful and kind and brave, and I've only ever treated you badly, but…" he rambled off. He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "Betty, I love you. Like crazy."

He reached up and cupped her cheek, his eyes locked with hers. "Say something," he pled.

"I—Daniel… I—" she stuttered, searching his face for something. He wasn't sure what.

He couldn't take the torture any longer, though, and he covered her lips with his own, kissing her hungrily. She kissed him back, tentatively, as her arms slipped around his neck.

Gah, she was perfect. The perfect combination of demure and brave. As she pulled away, ducking her head as her cheeks flamed, he reached up and tilted her chin up. "Betty?" he whispered. "Betty, I love you. Okay?"

He needed her to understand it—this wouldn't be some fling or one-night stand. He was crazy about her. He was nothing without her. "I love you," he whispered again, all his love pouring from his eyes.

She smiled up at him, shyly, and met his lips in a brief kiss. "Okay," she whispered in reply. "I believe you." She grinned up at him. "Say it again."

Her eyes glowed with her love. He didn't need her to say it to know it was real. "I love you," he said again, leaning in, claiming her lips once more…

The rough voice of the English cabbie broke through dreamland. "Ay, ay, ay!" he protested. "I don't swing that way! Wakey-wakey!"

Daniel groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

He had to talk to Betty. And soon.

A/N: Please review! I know it's pretty sappy, haha, but I kinda get that way when I'm in a good mood. :) And I probably should have warned you… I don't do the whole sort of racy dreams, haha. I hope this was a bit of a happy medium. :)