A/N: Well, I thought this was going to be a one-shot, but then I really, REALLY wanted to write more of Rory and Dean being cute and sweet and wonderful, so I no longer know how long this is going to be or where it's going to end up or how frequently it will be updated. What can I say, these two are my happy place when things are going well for them, and since there wasn't nearly enough of that in canon, obviously the solution is to write it, so here we are.

A little over an hour later, Rory's phone went off. It was the same number as before.

"Dean?"

"Hey."

"Wait, I didn't even ask before: did you get a cell phone?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Cool! So, what's up?"

"Well, I was thinking, why wait until Saturday when I will have forgotten really important details like the number of times the couple sitting in front of me played footsie to tell you about class, when I can just use this handy dandy cell phone to call you now and tell you."

"Smart boy."

"Not compared to the people you run with these days."

"Don't talk like that. You're in college, aren't you? And there's lots of ways to be smart. I can almost guarantee you that no one here would know how to build a car practically from scratch. That's smart, interesting, and useful. Triple whammy right there."

"OK, OK, you win."

"And all is right with the world. So what was this class in which the couple in front of you played footsie?"

"Biology. The lecture was on, let's see, uh . . . mitosis and meiosis. Reproduction stuff."

"Well, no wonder they couldn't keep their feet off each other."

"Yes, no wonder the lesbian couple was incredibly turned on by cellular reproduction. And to be fair, I'm not sure we really have the right to judge other people for a little PDA, given our history."

"Well, we never played footsie in class."

"True, but we never had the opportunity, either."

"You and your mile-long legs make an excellent point." Rory felt herself blushing, and was suddenly very glad this conversation was happening over the phone. "But, to return to the original topic, how many times did the daughters of Sappho play footsie during what I'm sure was a very riveting lecture on mitosis and meiosis?"

"The daughters of who?"

"Oh, sorry. Sappho was a female Greek poet from the island of Lesbos. You see where this is going?"

"I think I got the gist, yeah. But to answer your question, I forget."

"You open the conversation with tantalizing hints about footsie documentation, and now you forget? Shame on you."

"Well, you distracted me."

"How? Tell me so I can make sure I don't do it again and miss out on such vital information in the future."

"I don't think that's possible, since you were just being you."

"Darn me. I guess I'll have to be someone else when I don't want you to forget things."

"Sorry, that won't work either."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll be so distracted from missing you while you're pretending to be someone else that I'll forget whatever it is that you were trying to make me remember by not being you."

Rory smiled. "I just can't win."

"Guess not. Hey, so I didn't ask you what you're up to today."

"Oh, you know, class, studying, work."

"Work? You have a job?"

"Yes. I work ten hours a week in the very exciting field of scanning people's ID cards as they enter the dining hall."

"Ah."

"What about you? Keeping solvent?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I got a job with plant services here on campus, and Taylor lets me pick up shifts when I'm home for the weekend."

"Are you doing that this weekend?"

"Nope. This weekend I wanted to clear my schedule."

"Really? Why?"

"For you."

"Oh." She was blushing again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . . that sounded . . . I don't mean to come on so strong. I just meant that I was going to go home regardless, and I was hoping we could hang, and if you said we could I wasn't going to pick up any shifts because I wanted to have time for you and my family and homework, but if you said no than I would have. That's all I meant."

"Dean, it's OK. More than OK. I . . . I'm glad you wanted to see me."

"Really?"

"Yes, of course. I would have been glad even if I hadn't wanted it to be a date date. There I go, saying 'date date' again."

"Gettin' to be a bad habit."

"Right? All I mean is, we're friends, and we hadn't hung out and talked for a long time, what with . . . everything, so I would've been glad we were going to do that no matter what. That's all I meant. Well, no it's not, because I'm kind of really happy that it's a date."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You were right about . . . can we not do this part of the conversation over the phone?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks. So . . . do you have any other classes today?"

"Bio was my last one, but I had an engineering class this morning."

"Engineering? But I thought you were undeclared."

"I am, but I'm kinda leaning that way, and it's one of those majors you're supposed to dive right into, so I figured, better safe than sorry, take the intro classes, and if I end up changing no harm done"

"Again with the smart. So how is it?"

"I really like it. I mean it's tough, but I like it. A lot of math, though."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, well, no pain no gain, right? And there's a really great math help center, so I do OK. It's easiest when I can figure out connections to the way things actually work, visualize it, you know?"

"Not really, but I'll take your word for it. Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I actually have to get ready for work."

"OK. We'll pick up again on Saturday."

"Oh, I think with the help of these fancy cell phone gadgets we can manage to talk again before then."

"I'd like that."

"It's settled then. I'll call you when my shift is over and tell you how many couples were eating each others' faces instead of their food."

"Now that we were somewhat guilty of."

"We were at that. Ah, well, young love and all that."

"Yeah, and all that."

"I'll talk to you later, Dean."

"You'd better."