A/N: I'm still beta-less, let me know if you're interested.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Lorelai had pulled the comforter over their heads, sealing them in their little cocoon.

She'd dreamed of him all night, her nose pressed against his shirt, breathing him in.

Still half-asleep, barely aware of her surroundings, she nuzzled against him. Her eyelashes were delicately fluttering on his neck.

And she was totally unaware of the effect she was having on a fully-conscious Luke.

He hadn't moved a muscle all night, except to drop a kiss on her forehead when she had started whimpering in her sleep.

He screwed his eyes shut and reflected on the fact that there were at least four men on this earth that had woken up with her in their arms. And all four of them had let her go. He thanked them silently for their stupidity.

It was then that her leg, which had been draped over his knee, migrated slowly upward, pressing into his torso and coming to rest just above his hip. He exhaled forcefully, trying desperately not to emit any of the sounds pulling at his deep vocal chords.

This is the definition of sexual torture, he thought. The woman of your dreams, wearing next to nothing, unconsciously rubbing herself all over you.

Luke knew that he either had to get the hell out of that bed, or make some sort of move.

He decided to test the waters.

His hand, which had been resting at his side, crawled slowly across his stomach, grazing the underside of her knee. He released his breath gently. 'So far, so good,' he thought.

Very, very slowly, he let his fingers slide up the side of her knee, taking in the softness of her velvety skin. He gently laid his palm flat against her thigh about halfway up and rested his hand there. Okay. That wasn't too hard.

She burrowed more deeply into him, sliding her hand up from his chest to the side of his neck. Luke applied a bit of pressure on her thigh and began moving his thumb back and forth over her skin. The goose bumps that appeared under his hand satisfied him.

And though neither had fully opened an eye, they were both totally awake. The second Luke had touched her, shockwaves quaked her body, blowing away any last cloud of sleep.

Luke, however, wasn't aware of her complete state of consciousness. Only once she shifted her weight on top of him completely, so that they were chest to chest, did he assume. Her movements became more deliberate as she repositioned herself, her face still buried in his neck.

This gave him a bit of courage, the thought that she might be aware of his thoughts, consciously reciprocating these movements. His hand slid up the back of her thigh, and he had to resist the urge to buck his hips. She squirmed, then pressed her body into him.

Luke started plotting his next move, then decided to just focus on not passing out.

The only time he could ever remember being this turned on was… well, probably the first time he had sex.

There were actually a number of similarities between the two incidents; he felt that same strong sense of insecurity that followed every move he made, but the sureness of letting primal instincts finally take over was one of the most liberating experiences of his life.

Another similarity between the two events was this: the suspense had been building for him for so long that, now that the opportunity might be presenting itself, he didn't know what the hell to do first.

'Okay, one step at a time,' he thought, and decided to start with opening his eyes.

As he took in the scene before him, he could hardly believe what he was looking at. She was perfect, and she was covering his entire body. Her pearl-colored slip was hitched up at the waist, stopped just short of exposing anything.

And just below that was his hand, moving casually over her skin. Totally nonchalantly too, like he did this every day.

She moaned appreciatively at the feeling of his fingers on her bare skin, squirming against his thighs.

His chin was touching her forehead, she was breathing directly down the neck of his shirt. Her breathing was coming too fast for her to be asleep, he reasoned. She has to be completely awake. And if she's completely awake, she's not stopping me.

He capped her side with his other hand, halfway from hip to breast, while shifting her up so they could be face to face. But instead of lifting her head to face him, like he'd expected, Lorelai moved her mouth up to his ear.

"Please," she whispered fervently.

Luke couldn't move. Absolutely couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard.

When he didn't immediately jump into action, Lorelai placed her hands on either side of his head and hoisted herself up, staring down at him. He looked up into her clear, blue eyes and saw the expression he felt himself wearing, one of passion and ardent desire.

And just then, the unbelievable happened.

A shrill ringing went off at his side.

'Alarm clock,' he thought. 'Should've known I was dreaming this.'

The shrieking noise, however was not that of an alarm clock- it was the phone. Lorelai, who'd been completely startled by the sudden interruption of silence, pitched onto her side and rolled off of his body. She covered her face with her forearms. "Jesus," she muttered.

They both looked at one another cautiously from either side of the bed, trying to survey the situation. Lorelai took in his angled jaw, slightly down-turned mouth and days-old stubble. God, he was beautiful.

"You gonna get that?" She nodded to the phone, which was on the nightstand next to him.

'Uh, yeah," he uttered softly, taking a deep breath. He rolled over onto his side and picked up the phone.

Lorelai, meanwhile, half-listened to his conversation while piecing her thoughts together.

The way she fit so well into his body, the way he tensed his muscles when he held her, the way she'd felt his heart pounding under her hand.

She knew he had wanted her, for a fact. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way his body moved and flexed when she pressed against him.

It thrilled her to think that, what she'd craved for so long was within her reach.

But she didn't know if he felt the same way she did. And she didn't want to make another decision until she found out. She refused to turn him into a one-night stand.

"Ok, thanks Donald. Bye."

Luke hung up the phone and lay back down. "That was Donald."

"Right. Sorta figured."

"Yeah. Sorry. Um, I told him that we wanted to come to the house and help out today, with whatever we could, but he said that the family would be scattered around today running some last-minute errands for the service tomorrow. The only thing he asked is that we take care of the flower arrangements."

"That's fine."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad he gave us something to do," she said.

"Yeah."

They were lying a foot apart, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

Just as Lorelai opened her mouth to say something, her cell phone went off.

Luke got up to get ready.

"Honey? I'm gonna have to call you back," Lorelai said into the phone. "But yes, we arrived safely. And give Jackson and Davey my love. Bye bye."

Lorelai made her way to the doorway of the bathroom, hanging onto the wall for support. "Hey," she said to Luke, who was brushing his teeth.

"Who was that on the phone?" he asked through a mouthful of foam, taking in her tousled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Sookie. Just wanted to make sure we arrived."

Luke just nodded, spit and rinsed. He was totally at a loss for instructions in a situation like this.

"Should we talk?" She asked gingerly.

"Yeah, we should probably talk."

"Breakfast?"

"Sure. Need the bathroom?"

"Yeah, I need to shower, but I'll just be a minute."

Half an hour later, Luke was sitting on the bed, watching a baseball game, trying really damn hard not to think about the fact that Lorelai was naked about ten feet away from him. Granted, there was a door and a few walls between them, but he still couldn't help imagining it.

She finally stepped through the door fifteen minutes later, hair pulled back and makeup on. "Let's go," she said curtly, grabbing her purse.

Luke turned off the TV and followed her out the door. "Where we going?"

"I don't know, we'll find something around here," she said. "And you know I've got a nose for coffee, so…" She didn't finish her thought.

They stepped through the revolving doors of the lobby and found themselves on a main street, people everywhere, a sliver of ocean at the end of the block. "Let's walk toward the water, huh?"

They found a small café across the street from the beach, where Luke resisted the urge to make a fuss about the $3 coffee on the menu. After seating themselves, they placed their orders with the waitress and sipped their water nervously, darting glances at one another. "You wanted to talk?" Luke asked quietly.

He didn't know why he asked. He certainly didn't want to talk. He didn't want to know that she was lonely, looking for comfort, just wanting to get laid.

"Yes, I did," Lorelai said, her tone matching his. A pause.

"I mean, we should talk, shouldn't we? Like, there's things we should be… you know, talking about?"

They stared at each other some more. "Yeah, talking's good," he finally answered noncommittally.

"Luke, do you like me?" Shit. She hadn't meant for it to come out of her mouth so abruptly.

And suddenly, he couldn't stop staring his water glass.

He didn't want to give her an answer and shatter the hope he'd carried so privately in his heart.

A few moments went by, as Luke debated what kind of an answer to give her. He probably couldn't get away with just making a joke… maybe he could somehow get her to answer first. Or, maybe he should suck it up and be a man.

"Yes."

He'd said it so quietly to the water glass that she wasn't sure he he'd said it.

Plus, just in case he had said it, she wanted to hear it again.

"What?"

He finally met her insistent gaze. "I said, yes."

"Yes… like… you like me?"

"Yes. Yes like I like you."

"Like you like me like me?"

"How did I know that question was coming," he muttered. "Lorelai… I have feelings." She just stared.

"For you," he added.

Then more deliberately: "I have feelings for you. There, I've said it."

"You have feelings," she repeated. "Feelings for me."

"Jeez, why do I feel like I'm talking to a three-year-old?" He turned toward the window and gazed out at the beach.

"I'm sorry," she responded dejectedly. "I just wanted to make sure I understood."

"And do you understand?" He was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I understand."

He finally turned back toward her, awaiting some sort of response. Lorelai, however, just stared at him with faraway eyes and a small smile. He felt like he was being mocked.

"If I could turn them off, I would," he finally said.

"What! Why?" She cried.

"Why? Because, Lorelai, the way I feel about you is… it's completely ridiculous. I know that. And it's painful. And even if I was your type, which I'm not, it would be crazy for us to try and date."

"Why would it be crazy?"

"I don't know. It would just be stupid for us to try, what with our friendship, as close as we are, as small as that damn town is. Everyone would be talking about us going out, then everyone would be talking about us breaking up, and then I wouldn't ever see you again. Or Rory, for that matter. And I don't want that." He took a breath.

"I'd rather try and… keep doing what I've been doing."

"What, just… suppressing your feelings for me?"

"Yup," he responded. He was getting nauseous and didn't want to be there. His eyes darted around impatiently.

The waitress came with their food, the breakfast special for Lorelai and a fruit bowl for Luke. "More coffee?" she asked Lorelai.

"No thanks," she said, smiling sweetly at the waitress. She turned her attention back to Luke as she walked away. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well," said Lorelai slowly, "I think we should go out." She popped a piece of muffin into her mouth.

"What?" he exclaimed, cocking his head forward anrgrily. She didn't answer.

"Are you... are you messing with me?"

"No!"

"Lorelai, why are you saying that?" he demanded.

"Because, Luke," she smiled through her muffin. "I like you, too."

"No, you don't." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"What are you talking about? How do you know who I like? Only I know who I like, and I'm telling you, I like you." She giggled, sipping down the last of her coffee.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You. Like me."

"Yes."

"You're saying, you like me. You have a crush on me. Me, Luke Danes."

"Yes you, Luke Danes. Who's the 3-year-old now?"

He looked down, arms still crossed, and broke into a wide smile. "You like me," he said, nodding. "You like me. That's… good. That's really good."

Luke finally turned his attention to his food, forking an orange slice into his mouth.

They ate the rest of their meal in complete silence, only stealing glances at one another from across the table and grinning madly.