Notes: OH MY GOSH! I can't even tell you guys how happy it makes me to have reached 100 reviews! ONE HUNDRED! I've never even reached 50 before. So now we can go on to 125 and then 150! And then 175 and then 200! ...Sorry. Had a little Kirk moment there. At least I'm typing so it didn't hurt my throat. LOL.

Soo...who's at the door? Well, I guess you're about to find out.

Chapter 8: The One With the Friends Title

Previously, on Gilmore Girls:

Our eyes met and held for one second...two...three...

I lost count then. I also may have forgotten how to breathe.

I didn't move a muscle, and neither did he. The sweet, hypnotic tension of the moment wound around us more and more tightly...until it was shattered into a million splintered bits by the obnoxious clang of the doorbell.

I froze.

The dense cloud that had surrounded my brain swirled, thinned, and then lifted.

Doorbell. Meaning there was someone at the door. Curtains were open; they knew that I was home.

Damn.

"I should..."

I watched as Luke blinked a couple of times, seeming to be surfacing from whatever it was that had held us both hostage. "Yeah."

I flashed a tiny, awkward smile, and stood from the couch, comprehension just dawning that whomever was at the door had interrupted a possibly very pivotal moment in mine and Luke's relationship.

Needless to say, that didn't do wonders for my mood.

Who would be at the door, anyway? It wouldn't be Rory or Lane. Maybe Sookie? Or Taylor. Maybe my lawn was a couple of millimeters too high.

I didn't particularly care. I just wanted them to get the heck away so I could get back to Luke.

I opened the front door, only to find none other than Kirk Gleason standing there, inspecting one of the columns that stand on either side of the porch stairs.

I should have known.

"Kirk." I plastered a smile to my face.

He spun around to face me. "Lorelai."

"What do want, Kirk?"

"What do I want, you ask? Well, let me tell you."

Oh.

No.

I knew that voice. That was the 'Introduction to my ten minute sales pitch' voice. Which I was so not in the mood for.

"Have you ever been standing there in your kitchen? Maybe you're making a sandwich or even some scrumptious spaghetti and meatballs?"

"I don't cook." I interjected, but it was useless. He was off.

"...Or maybe a nice casserole. Anyway. Have you ever stood there, thinking, 'If only I didn't have to reach so far to open those cabinets.'"

"Kirk-"

"Well, let unnecessary arm extensions worry you no longer! Allow me to introduce my new company, Kirk's Kitchen Kontraptions! As of yet, we only carry two products, but, let me tell you, they're both sure to change your world. First, we have Kontraption Number One, a handy-dandy tool that clips right onto your cabinet door handles-"

"Kirk."

He stopped.

"Yes?"

"Why are you here?"

"To advertise my new company, Kirk's Kitchen Kontraptions."

"It's 10 o'clock."

He waited a second, as if taking this information in. "So?"

"So...aren't you supposed to do this during business hours?"

"But you aren't home during regular business hours."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand."

"Never mind. It sounds like a great company, Kirk. But I really don't use my kitchen all that much." I said with an apologetic smile.

"Oh. Well, have a good night then. And if you ever change your mind, be sure to think of Kirk's Kitchen Kontraptions and give us a call! The number is the same as mine. And I'm sorry if Mother answers. She doesn't take it too kindly when I suggest that she shouldn't answer her own phone."

"Will do. 'Night, Kirk."

"Goodnight, Lorelai."

I watched as Kirk descended the stairs, then turned back to the house and shut the door firmly behind me.

Now, for the hard part.

What to do? What to do?

Well, apparently, the thing to do was quote Robin Hood.

Aside from that, I hadn't the faintest idea.

And I had about two seconds to decide before my lingering in the foyer would look suspicious.

Play it cool. I had to play it cool. I mean, nothing had really happened. It was just a moment. Everyone has those moments. They don't necessarily mean anything.

Right?

I mentally willed my feet to move towards the living room, and miraculously, they obeyed.

"Hey," Luke said, still sitting on the couch.

"Hey." The movie had been stopped; the scene over and done with. It was behind us. Just like our actions during it would have to be.

"Who was at the door?"

"Kirk. He's apparently starting a kitchen business." I said, grinning -- albeit, a little awkwardly. At least it felt awkward.

You know, now would be one of those times when it would really be handy to have an out-of-body experience. You know, so you could see yourself without using a mirror. That way I could know if I looked as awkward as I felt.

"Interesting."

Silence ensued.

"So...do you want to start the movie back up?" I asked.

"Sure."

I crossed over to the couch and picked up the remote.

It was only when I went to sit down that I realized how close we were.

Were we really sitting that close before? Had he moved?

"Is something wrong?" There was a hint of amusement in Luke voice, and I realized I was still half-way between sitting down and standing up and staring at my spot on the couch like it had sprouted a second head.

Except for the slight fact that couches don't even have one head, so they couldn't grow a second. But you get my point.

"Huh? Oh yeah." I laughed a little. "Just thought I saw a bug there for a second."

"Ah."

I lowered myself cautiously down into my corner.

As I pressed 'Play' a thought occurred to me.

What if we were closer than before? What if it wasn't my imagination, and Luke had scooted over because he wanted to be closer? Was that a sign? Was Rory right?

Or was it just all in my slightly cluttered, somewhat fuzzy mind?

You know what? I had to stop all this second guessing. What harm could it do to talk?

I mean, who am I, Lorelai Gilmore, if not an excellent talker?

I stopped the movie.

Luke's eyes were questioning as I turned to him.

I opened my mouth.

And nothing came out.

Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

Thank you, dear Mouth, for holding me out in a time of need. Really. I swear, you're always getting me into trouble, and then the minute I need you? Nothing! Seriously, the least you could do-

My inner monologue slash rant was suddenly cut short by another mouth. On mine.

Someone was kissing me.

But I was with Luke.

Luke.

LUKE was kissing me?

The thought startled me enough so that I jerked back, my eyes wide, my heart pounding faster than a star racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.

Oh my God, did I just use a sports metaphor?

Then I blinked and realized just what had occurred.

Luke had kissed me.

And I had pulled away.

Which could only mean that he thought...

"I'msorry" The words came out of Luke's mouth in a rush, and he was facing the television, back straight, his eyes were anywhere but on mine. "I didn't mean...I'm so-"

"Luke." I placed my hand on his arm, and he looked down at it. I felt a little of the tension of his body melt away, as if it wasn't quite sure if it should, but it couldn't help it.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

He turned his head toward mine inquiringly, but nothing more was said after that because this time, I kissed him.

Because the other kiss had been so short and sudden -- not to mention so freaking huge (metaphorically speaking, of course, as it was, as I have already stated, short) -- I had missed it, due to my malfunctioning senses.

There was no way in hell I was missing one single minute iota of a detail of this one.

As soon as our lips met, I felt the rest of the tension flow out of his body. His hand came up to just brush my jaw, and a delicious electric blue shiver danced up and down my spine. This was so...just...so.

I had one hand placed on his leg for balance, because I was leaning toward him, and I could feel his body heat through the denim. My other hand slowly crept up his flannel shirt, around to the back of his neck, and into his hair.

My God, I loved his hair.

But I loved his lips more.

The whole time, they were toying, caressing, dancing with mine. I had always imagined our first kiss might be rushed and intensely passionate. And let me tell you, those were some dang good imagination sessions.

But this time, fantasy had absolutely nothing on reality.

This was a whole new kind of intense. It couldn't even be described. I felt like my head was going to explode, my heart was leaping into my throat every time it beat -- and, let me tell you, that was a lot -- and I had just downed about ten gallons of pure caffeine.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I felt both his hands on either side of my face, and he angled his face differently so that it really was better. As if we had some inner stop watch that was keeping us perfectly in synch, we simultaneously made the decision to deepen the kiss.

I leaned even closer, and he did the same. His lips pressed harder against mine, and his tongue invaded my mouth for the first time ever.

I had the sudden vision of myself as a cartoon, my head suddenly swelling up and popping like a balloon. Because that's what I felt like I was going to do. I couldn't even explain it.

My senses were in Luke overload. Everything I did. Everything I smelled, touched, tasted, felt was him.

I wrapped my other arm around his neck, and I think a small moan might have escaped my throat. I'm not really sure.

I couldn't get enough of him. I kissed him more, more, more, and he did the same to me. His hands were tangled in my hair, but in a good way, not in a way that hurt. He pulled back for a second to breathe my name against my lips and drop a few kisses on my chin and jaw before seeking out my mouth with his as if they were magnetized and couldn't bear to be apart for more than a millisecond.

After many more minutes -- though it could have been days, for all I knew -- we broke apart.

Stupid oxygen. It really picks the most inconvenient times to reveal how necessary it is.

I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, and he pressed a few light, scattered kisses against my neck, where my hair had fallen away from it.

"Did that," I paused to take a breath, "just happen?"

"Yeah." I could tell he was smiling, even though I couldn't see him, and I pressed my cheek against his shoulder as I felt his fingers rake tenderly through my hair. "It did."

TBC...

A/N: If you can guess the Friends episode I would name this chapter after, you will get...virtual cookies and kudos from me! (Hint: Think Chandler and Monica.) Hee.