A/N: It's a short chapter, but the next one will make up for it. Also, thank you reviewers for the feedback. I have what I needed to know now. :)

Jess' last thought was the most sobering, and he quickly extricated himself from the situation, much to Rory's confusion. She fell back on the couch, fixing a frown on her brow and stared at him curiousily.

He took a moment to collect his senses and put his shirt back on. While he was picking clothing off the floor, he took the opportunity to give Rory's shirt back too, but she didn't put it back on. She just kept staring. Sufficiently stable and dressed, he offered her his hand, in which she placed her own, and pulled her off the couch before leading her to his bedroom.

Rory emitted a noise that sounded a lot like a giggle and tossed her shirt haphazardly onto the floor in the bedroom, stepping in front of Jess to walk backwards towards the bed. "You didn't need to put your shirt back on if this was your plan," she spoke into his mouth, punctuating her message with light kisses.

"You're drunk, Rory." It was the only feasible explanation for this sexually confident behavior. He evaded her temporarily to flip his nightstand lamp on before pushing her back on the bed. It elicited a playful growl (and a subsequent blush) from Rory, but it was only to prop her feet up so he could take off her shoes.

The truth was, though, that neither of them had become truly drunk. There were six beers between them, split down the middle, and consumed over a six hour period of time. Now, five hours later, most of the alcohol should have been filtered through. Jess processed this logic slowly, mostly due to sleep deprivation, while removing her socks and throwing the blankets over her, unwilling to believe that this was behavior of conscious, sober Rory.

"No, I'm not, Jess," Rory articulated, verbalizing what Jess was coming to realize. She childishly shoved the covers he had thrown over her down to her waist. Arching her back slightly, she snapped the clasp of her bra behind her, let it fall forward and then dropped it over the bed. Completely topless, she propped herself up on her elbows and delivered a smoldering "Come hither," look that would have made Taylor proud, her cerulean eyes dark with lust in the warm light of the lamp.

"Rory..." he scolded, adverting his eyes from her chest. Restraint was not coming easily, and every move she made seemed to pull it farther and farther away from him. "...No," he commanded, and focused directly on her face, covered up her bare chest with one of the sheets.

Unfortunately for his self-control, his balance was just weak enough that when compounded with the way Rory seized his face with her hands, he fell on top of her. Their lips crashed together again, and the kiss quickly deepened, fed by a fading his fading reluctance. But Jess made one last effort to pull away, to which she quickly crushed him back against her. This time, however, she had something to say. Something other than his name, anyway.

"I'm not drunk," she whispered into his left ear, outlining the outter rim with her tongue before placing tiny kisses down his jaw. His mouth was skipped for the trail to be picked up on the other side. "I'm wide awake," she breathed into his right ear, accompanying it with a delicate flicking of his lobe. Her hands crawled down his spine, sending a shivering sensation that caused him to bow his back inwards, towards her. He caught the mischevious look in her eye as she moved her head to whisper her final declaration into his left ear. "I want this." It was simple, raspy and stole any last bit of resistance Jess had in him.

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She had fallen asleep perfectly curled up next to him. One leg, bent at the knee, fell over his thighs and thread itself through his legs. Her head rested against his chest, keeping one hand, entwined with his, company. His faded black sheets lied low, just covering the space below the small of her back, leaving her otherwise unapologetically uncovered.

"Angel" wasn't the right word, but it was the first to come to mind.

Jess was acutely aware of every rise and fall of her chest, every shift of her body, the delicate smile on her face. He wanted to memorize all of the little things. He wanted to remember that this was what love felt like: agonizing, marvelous and untamed.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him this was goodbye. His Christmas present from Rory was not another shot, but climactic closure. The "I love yous" were consolation prizes.

She had been insistent, though, almost to the point of being unrecognizable, and that's what tipped him off. If this was all he was going to get, there would be no regrets.

He looked back down at his 'angel,' and traced one of his fingers over his shoulder, careful not to wake her or steal any second away from what he had convinced himself were his last moments with Rory.

But she eventually awake, eyes fluttering open from underneath her lashes. Her face turned away from Jess as she sat up and curled the sheets up around her protectively.

Jess' anxiety about what would happen next constricted his breathing.