AN: Yay! Jewels12 and I actually got to SIMUL-watch Glee tonight! *Dances* Thanks for that, and also for being a kick ass beta, Jewels! I'd also like to send out a 'thank you' to the readers at home. I hope you're still enjoying the story! On with the show!

Am I falling for Marty?

Don't be ridiculous; it's just a silly crush. You'll get over it.

But what if it's not a crush? Maybe I should ask him out.

Like you'd ask a guy out. When have you ever made the first move?

Just because I haven't, doesn't mean I can't.

What makes you so sure he's even interested in you? Do you have any idea how awkward things will be if you go up to him with, "Wanna be my boyfriend?" and he says, "Um, pass"?

Well, I obviously wouldn't do it like that.

Oh, really? Then how would you do it?

I don't know, but not like that!

It was irritating how much one half of her psyche sounded like Paris. Rory shoved her chair away from the news desk she was using, and the screech her chair made sent a wave of gasps and groans around the room. She ducked her head away from the disapproving glares and tried to concentrate on the article she was working on. It was of one of her other rejected articles, and she was hoping this rewrite would go better than the last.

"If you're impatient for your next assignment, there are better ways of bringing it to my attention," Doyle said while he passed behind her and sat down on the corner of the desk.

"Oh, no, that wasn't –"

"You will remember our prior discussion when you write this one, won't you?" he interrupted as he handed her a folder.

"Yes, of course." She opened up the folder and saw a flyer for a ballet recital and two tickets.

"They always give us the tickets for free, so don't worry if you don't end up using the second one." Doyle hopped off the desk and called over his shoulder as he walked away, "Five hundred words. Monday."

As she read over the flyer, her eyes drifted over to the two tickets.

This could work.

She glanced at her watch. It was about time for lunch, anyway. As she packed up her belongings, she mulled over how she might bring it up. When she arrived at the cafeteria, Marty was already sliding an empty tray along the counter. She picked up a tray and sidled up next to him.

"So, what looks good today?"

"Oh, hey, Rory. I'm thinking about the barbeque chicken pizza, but there's also three cheese macaroni."

"Mmm, I know what I'm getting," she sing-songed.

"So, how are things at the paper?" he asked, sneaking a cautious peek at her.

"I know I was bummed before, but you don't need to walk on eggshells, Marty. I was working on that other rewrite, but I was actually given a new assignment."

"That's good."

"Yeah, and hopefully this one will be published. It's a dance recital that one of the student companies is having this Saturday. They actually gave me two tickets for it, so if you wanted to come and keep me company I wouldn't complain. Although, it's ballet, so maybe that's not your thing." She casually picked up an apple to make it seem like it didn't matter how he responded.

But it does matter. If he says no, I'll know he isn't interested. If he says yes… well, that doesn't mean he's definitely interested, but at least I'll know he isn't completely squicked out by doing something remotely date-like together.

"No…" he said, and Rory's heart sank a little, but she couldn't say she was really surprised. "… ballet's okay." She hoped he didn't notice the smile she was biting back as she pretended to check the apple for bruises. "When on Saturday is it?"

"Oh, um, it's at… let me see…" she flustered. Calm down, she scolded herself. She forced her hands to slow down as she opened her bag and pulled out the file. "It's at three."

"Yeah, that should be fine. I mean, it won't last more than two hours, will it? I have work at six."

"I can't imagine it would. So does that mean you'll be there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Cool," she said as they walked over to the checkout line. Standing behind him, she allowed herself a small smile.

For a split second, it sounded like Rory had asked him out on a date. He looked over and saw her poking around a basket of apples. Before he could wonder when she started eating fruit voluntarily, he shook his head at himself.

Don't be ridiculous. Rory's just asking you to hang out like usual. Just instead of being in her dorm, you'll be at a show. She'll be scribbling down notes the whole time. It's definitely not a date.

"No, ballet's okay." He mentioned his bartending job to make sure there wasn't a conflict before agreeing to join her.

They found Steve already at a table and joined him. Marty wondered if he would ask what their plans were that weekend and if it would be weird if they said they were going to a recital together.

Is this weird? It doesn't feel weird. I mean, she asked me. If she were worried about it seeming like a date she wouldn't have asked, right? So if she's comfortable with it there's no reason I shouldn't be, right? But why didn't she ask someone like Paris or Julie?

"So, what do you think?" Steve asked.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Marty snapped himself back to attention, hoping he hadn't been staring at Rory subconsciously.

"C'mon, pay attention. I'm trying to help you out here. Friday, as in tomorrow, bartending my lab partner's party. Are. you. in?" he enunciated.

"Yeah, I'm in."

After lunch, Rory flopped down on her bed in frustration. She was proud of herself for gathering the nerve to test the waters, and she received the results she had wanted: she had managed to ask Marty in a way that didn't risk their friendship, and he said yes. Trouble was, now that she knew he wouldn't reject her outright, she wished she'd asked him out as an actual date.

Get over it, Gilmore. You did exactly what you wanted, and you got exactly what you wanted, so quit pouting. You'll just have to wait until next time to make it a real date.

She wondered how sure she was that there would even be a next time. She closed her eyes and pictured how this Saturday would play out. They'd probably meet at the theatre, exchange normal, friendly banter while she took notes, and make study plans as they walked out. Everything would be completely platonic as usual, only in a date-like setting. But that would set the precedent for how they should behave for any future date-like situations. She'd be locking herself into the 'friend zone' (or worse, 'sibling zone') forever.

Quickly, she rolled off her stomach and swung her legs off the bed, looking for her shoes.

I have to fix this.

She bolted out of her dorm, not allowing herself time to chicken out. Before she knew it, she was knocking on Marty's door, amazed at how quickly she had arrived there.

"Please don't let Carl be in, please don't let…" she mumbled over and over as she tried to catch her breath.

"Rory, hey."

She smiled, relieved that Marty answered the door and that, unless he was hiding somewhere, Carl was out. "Marty, can I come in? I haven't been completely honest with you about this recital."

"It is more than two hours, isn't it?" he groaned as he closed the door behind her.

"No, no, that's not it." She turned around, but now that she was here with him she couldn't bring herself to follow through. Tell him! Tell him you asked him out as a casual friend thing because you were scared. Tell him you'd like it to be a date.

"Rory?" he asked expectantly.

She looked at him from across the room. Somehow, she had ended up leaning against the front of Carl's desk. She dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to just say what she was thinking. It would give him a chance to say he wasn't interested. But he had to be, at least a little bit, to accept even a casual date, right? She wanted to convince that little bit of interest, and hoped it would be enough to win over the rest of him.

Emboldened, she lifted her head and locked her eyes on his. She stepped away from Carl's desk and brought one hand up to her chest. Holding his gaze, she unbuttoned her top button and took another small step towards him.

"Rory? What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked, sliding a second button free and taking another step.

"Rory, cut it out. This isn't funny," he said, slightly backing up toward his desk.

"I'm not trying to be funny," she said, and there went the third button. When he bumped up against his desk, he simply leaned on it, apparently giving in to her advances. She could feel her heart racing faster in anticipation as she moved closer to him.

"Rory…"

"Yes, Marty?" she asked innocently, opening a much less innocent button and closing the gap between them a little more. The V of her shirt now plunged all the way down to her bellybutton.

"So, you're actually…"

"Taking my shirt off in front of you?" she finished for him. She unfastened another button and could feel that the next one was the last.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and just nodded mutely.

"Yes, Marty," she said as the last button popped under her fingers. "I am."

Rory brought her hands up to her collar and parted her shirt so that the narrow strip of visible skin spread before him. She shrugged the fabric off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. Her fingers moved to the clasp at the center of her chest and she saw his eyes widen. She beamed at him, charmed by his shock. Most guys would be impatiently anticipating the bra removal, she guessed, but it seemed Marty was so busy admiring her shirtless figure that wanting more hadn't occurred to him.

Her bra made a quiet click as the clasp separated. Slowly, she uncovered her breasts and let the bra slide off her shoulders, along her arms, and down to the ground. Rory took the last step between them and leaned her body against his, resting her hands on his biceps. Marty's hands lightly graze the skin at her waist before they trailed up her sides and brushed past the outer curves of her breasts. She writhed against him slightly, not just from the tickling sensations but also from how much he was turning her on.

Rory lifted her chin so that her lips hovered in front of his. "Do you still want me to cut it out?" she whispered.

"Oh, God, no," he murmured.

She went up on her tiptoes and let her eyelids drop as she leaned in for a kiss. She kept leaning further and further forward, confused that she hadn't reached his lips yet. They had been right in front of hers a second ago.

Is he pulling away from me?

She opened her eyes to check and wondered why she was lying on her stomach, staring at her rug. Exhaling as if she had been holding her breath, she examined herself and saw she was fully clothed. As the details of her dream came back to her, she moved her head from the edge of the bed to her pillow and tucked a hand between her chest and the bed to calm her racing heart.

What the hell? Where did THAT come from? I would never do that. Does it mean anything that I dreamt it? Do I actually want him like that? And does he want me? No, it WAS just a dream. I'm just a little interested in him, that's all.

She rolled over onto her back, and as her legs scissored a bit in the transition, she noticed she felt a little slippery. She closed her eyes and cast up a silent prayer that she had been mistaken before sliding a hand into her panties to touch herself. Her aroused flesh was swollen and slick, and when she brought her hand back out she saw her finger was glistening.

Whoa, maybe more than just 'a little.' But I'm not all hot and bothered for Marty, am I?

She shut her eyes as she tried to shut out that possibility. Yes, she wondered if she might be falling for Marty, but when she thought about it, she pictured hand-holding and sweet, romantic kisses. Not… that.

It was just because of the dream. God, that was a good dream. His mouth was right there. What if we had been able to kiss?

As she imagined his tongue slipping past hers, she felt the muscles inside her flex.

She whispered in his ear, "Touch me, Marty." He slid his hands down her skirt, and when they reached her hem, they slid back up her thighs. He hooked a finger on each side of her panties and slowly pushed them lower until they fell away from him. As she stepped out of them, he took a seat in his desk chair.

When she pictured herself straddling him and sitting in his lap, she undid the button and zipper on her jeans and separated her legs more. She took a quick peek at the clock and noted there was more than enough time before Paris came home.

She kissed Marty again and felt his hands slide up her calves and over her knees before disappearing under her skirt again. He squeezed her legs, thumbs pressing into her inner thighs before turning one hand underneath her.

As she cupped herself, she imagined it was his hand, and when she bent one finger to touch her wetness again, she pretended it was his.

"Like this?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yesssss," she hissed as the breath she had been holding in anticipation rushed from her. He stroked her slowly, massaging her lips and circling her swollen bud.

She pictured him kissing across her jawline and down her neck.

Bringing his free hand to her back, he guided her to lean away from him slightly.

As she envisioned his mouth moving closer, she snaked her own hand up her shirt and under her bra. She traced a finger around her erect nipple, simulating his tongue.

Every once in a while, his finger dipped into her, and while he still moved slowly, his strokes had intensified in strength.

Her fingers were kneading his curly hair when his mouth closed over her nipple. She arched her back, shifting more weight to the hand behind her and pressing her breast to him, urging him to suck harder.

"Mmmmm," she moaned quietly in spite of herself as she pinched and pulled at her nipple.

Her hips had started rocking against his fingers insistently, so he picked up the pace. He slid his finger from her bud, down between her lips, deep inside her folds, and back up again, over and over. He pressed any part of his finger or palm against her when he did this, letting her grind against him as he moved in and out of her. When he heard her moans rise higher and higher in pitch, he kept his finger at her tiny bundle of nerves, circling faster and faster and applying just the right amount of pressure.

The tension escalating inside her showed on her face. When she finally broke, her body convulsed into a crunch, and she let out a low grunt to avoid crying out and attracting the attention of her suitemates. She relaxed into her pillow again and let her finger just lay between her lips. She could feel them contract against her finger every so often as her orgasm trickled away from her.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at her ceiling, reality came crashing down on her again. She buttoned up her pants and sat up on the edge of her bed.

How am I going to be normal around him when I just got off on him? Well, not really on Marty, just 'DreamMarty'.

She didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she might have such strong urges for someone who was just a friend.

AN: All right, there it was, folks. The first chapter I was REALLY nervous about. This is the one I'd most appreciate reading reviews for so I know how to improve other smutty chapters I've written.