Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Gilmore Girls, and the characters in this belong to them.

I Remember

Tristan walked down the hallway of his newest apartment complex. He had been through a plethora of schools and homes over the past several years, and had yet to find a place that he could handle being in for any long period of time since the military.

He had enjoyed the military, but after a few years of it, he just knew it wasn't the right place for him. He felt like he had more to do in his life, and despite the many colleges he had tried out, none of them offered him precisely what he needed, not that he actually knew what that was.

He unlocked the room, second to last in the hallway, and walked in. The walls were stark and white, and the wooden floors seemed so cold and lifeless. He knew when he took the apartment that he would need to put some special touches into it that would spark some life in it, but now that it was his, the task seemed astronomical. Aesthetically, it was a great apartment, with a beautiful view of the city, two large bedrooms, a large bathroom and Jacuzzi tub, as well as a fair sized kitchen and living space, but after spending so much time in military barracks, and without any freedom, now that he was on his own again, he needed something that was simply 'Tristan'. With much work, this apartment would do quite well, but the way it was, it was nothing at all.

He dropped his final bag that he had to unload onto the white couch in the living room and walked into the kitchen. His fridge was next to empty, so he pulled out the one carton of milk that graced the top shelf, and a yogurt from the second shelf. Pulling himself onto one of the bar-stools that graced the island of the kitchen, he opened up the yogurt, and took a long drink of milk, straight from the carton.

Once he finished his snack, he returned to his bag and trudged into the bedroom that would be his. Opening it, he pulled out several pairs of pants and shirts, which had been in storage ever since he had left Chilton for military school. He decided that since he was a civilian again, he'd break out the old gear and see what was salvageable.

The clothes brought back a flood of memories. Good, and bad. As he took each individual article out of the bag, he associated it with a particular moment from his early High School life.

The black jeans were that blonde girl who wouldn't have sex with him unless he got tested for aids. He laughed at his own stupidity when he realized that he had refused the test citing the reason that there was no way he could get aids. He knew everything about the people he slept with.

Except, maybe, their names, ages, families, and everything else about their lives.

Throwing the jeans to his left, they became the beginning of the charity pile. He pulled out a few more items. A shirt, two pairs of jeans, and a baseball cap.

As he reached the bottom of the bag, he pulled out a navy blue suit jacket that was attached to black pants by a hanger. Laying it out on his bed, the old uniform of Chilton Prep School brought back only one memory. This one was bitter, and left an undesirable taste on his tongue.

'I hate him!' came the words, that had plagued him for almost a year after they were spoken. Hate. It was such a harsh word, one that Tristan had gotten used to over the past few years, especially since he had begun his tour as a 'peacekeeper'.

"Peace," he said aloud with a grunt that posed as a laugh. He picked up the uniform and began to throw it into the charity pile, when another memory came to him.

They sat together on the piano bench, both seeming almost human for the first time since they'd met. Slowly, he leaned in and just barely touched her lips with his own. It was sweet. He had never experienced something so subtle yet so wonderful before, and it ended far too quickly for his tastes.

Unknowingly, Tristan smiled. That girl had taken him through more emotions he didn't know how he could possibly still feel anything good for her. But there was good there. She was all good. She just wanted to have her relationship with her boyfriend back on track. He knew that. He'd known it all along, but his own stupid pride hadn't allowed him to see that side of the situation, only the side that involved him being caught in the crossfire and being used as a bargaining chip to save a relationship he would rather have died out quickly.

Tristan came out of his reverie and threw the outfit to his right. He was back in Connecticut now, he could simply return the uniform to Chilton, and not worry about it anymore. Besides, they'd have much more used for it than someone who picked it up for $1.50 at a used clothing store.

Putting away the clothes he intended to keep, and repacking the rest, Tristan threw the bag into the corner of his room and flopped back onto the bed. It had been years. Five, in fact, and for the past two, he had almost managed to push her out of his head. He didn't know if it was the familiarity of the city, or just the pack away memories, but once again, that girl plagued his thoughts, and refused to go away.

He plopped his head into a pillow and turned onto his side, staring at the blank wall.

Rory Gilmore, he was sure, wouldn't allow him to sleep tonight.

Rory tossed and turned in bed. She hated the feeling of trying to sleep when just a few feet away , through very thin walls, someone she didn't know at all was laying down, dressed in God knows what, and, likely, sleeping as well. She just didn't like being that close to strangers, even if there was a barrier in between them.

As she laid in the silence of her apartment, she heard noises coming from the other side of the thin wall that separated her bedroom from that of the other apartment. It sounded like packing… or… unpacking, as the case may be. She sighed and got up, walking into the kitchen for some coffee. Trying to sleep with drawers being opened and shut and bags thrown around would do no good.

After a cup and a half of very weak coffee, she got up and returned to her room. Her discomfort returned, and being the impulsive friend-maker she was, she decided to get up and go over to meet her neighbor, whom she was sure was still awake.

Tristan started at the sound of a knock coming at his door. He didn't know anyone who lived in the building, and you needed a key or a buzz in order to get in. He pulled himself out of bed and trudged out of his room and to the bulky wooden door.

He looked in the peep hole before opening it, and saw only a dark mane of long chestnut brown hair, as the person at the door was facing away from him. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, taking in the sight of a beautiful woman turn around with a start, and smile.

"Hey, sorry, I know it's late," she said. He knew her. He knew her very well, but didn't want to let on. The cocky bastard side of him felt compelled to know that she too remembered.

"Yea, it is," he said, with a bemused look gracing his handsome features. She looked at him, feeling nervous for a moment.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"As a matter of fact," be began, but seeing the worried look on her face, he decided it would be too mean to make her feel bad. "No," he said. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh good. Well, not good. I mean, it's never good that you can't sleep, but it's good that I didn't wake you up," she said, not meaning to ramble, though that's always what happened when she got nervous. And she was nervous. Her new neighbor was not just a neighbor. He was hot. Very hot. 'And he's someone I would recognize no matter what his hair looked like', she mused, taking in his shaven head and whiskered face.

"You're rambling," he said with a grin. She laughed

"Yea, I do that," she replied. "So, are you going to let me in, or do I have to wait here in the hallway all night?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, we haven't even been formally introduced, Miss. I'm not in the habit of letting perfect strangers into my house," he said with more than a hint of his old cockiness. He had left that part of himself behind in recent years, but something about this woman just made that part of him resurface with a vengeance. He wanted her. He knew he wanted her. He just didn't know how he could possibly get her. Rory raised an eyebrow.

"Yea, and I'm a perfect stranger," she said with a laugh. She pushed past him. "Step aside, Dugrey." Tristan let out an honest laugh and closed the door behind her, turning around to find her facing him.

"Rory," he said with a smile. "How ya been?" Rory smiled widely and give him a big hug, the one that she had wished she'd given him when he left all those years ago.

The two made their way to the couch, chatting happily and catching up on five long years. They had been talking almost two hours, when Rory realized it was nearly One AM, and she had a class at eight.

"Oh, geez. I need to go," Rory exclaimed, looking at her watch. Tristan's eyes flashed with disappointment, which did not go unnoticed by Rory.

"Yea, I guess it's kinda late," he said with a sigh. Rory sighed as well and looked him in the eyes.

"I missed you, Tristan," she said, being the first to delve into the real issues that they had been skirting around all night. The two had flirted and laughed, and it had seemed so natural. The whole situation seemed very surreal to Tristan, who had fantasized about being this way with Rory since he met her. Just happy, and friendly, and real.

"I missed you too, Mary," he said with a grin, using her nickname for the first time. She laughed.

"No, I mean I really missed you," she said. He looked at her confusedly, silently asking for her to continue. "I felt like when you left we were at such an impasse, and it just didn't sit well with me. I've always wanted to make things better between us, and I know you must find that hard to believe, but it's true."

"You're right, I do find that hard to believe," Tristan answered, all of the joking aside. "Rory, I know you know that I liked you. I mean, really liked you. And I also know that you didn't want to know that because it made things more complicated for you and Don"

"Dean," she corrected.

"Whatever. The point is, when I left, it was like I was running away, not only from Chilton and my parents, but from you. And as much as I needed that, it was so hard for me, because despite me knowing that military school was best for me, and I did know that, all I wanted was to be with you." As he finished, Rory took his left hand in both of hers.

"I know you don't think that I felt the same way, Tristan. But I did," she said softly. He looked up at her, startled and bemused.

"You liked me?" he asked softly. Rory laughed lightly and nodded.

"I don't kiss guys I don't like," she replied. He raised an eyebrow.

"I thought that was a mistake."

"Well, at the time, so did I. But when you left everything just became so clear. I tried to get in touch with you when Dean and I broke up, but I couldn't, and then they were so many other guys, I just kind of tried to let those feelings for you, the ones that kinda laid there bugging me every time, go. But they wouldn't."

"And how do you feel now?" he asked softly.

"Right now I feel like I'm with a completely different person," she said softly. Tristan lowered his head sadly. She leaned in slightly. "A better person. A better version of the same person, to be quite honest."

"You think I'm better?" he asked. She nodded.

"You've matured. And I think that's what I needed back then. I needed you to mature and stop pulling grade two pranks in order to get me to like you. But now, you're just so much more together," she replied. He smiled.

"Yea, well, the military will do that to you," he replied. "Either that, or you'll end up in a mental institute, but I guess I came out on the right side," he said with a grin. Rory laughed.

"Well, I'd say the military definitely did a number on you." She leaned in softly and kissed his lips, ever so lightly, and pulled back far too soon.

"This isn't a piano bench," he said, looking at their seating arrangement. Rory laughed.

"No," she agreed, "But it serves my purpose so much better."

Pulled him in, she kissed him deeper. She put her hand on the back of his head, as he put his around her waist and pulled her in as close as he could. The two toppled over on the couch, and Tristan wound up laying on top of Rory, as the two continued to kiss. They pulled away after several moments and looked at each others cerulean eyes, wanting more.

"What now?" he asked softly. She laughed and shook her head.

"I thought that was your forte," she joked. He laughed, and with a roll of his eyes, he delved back in to continue their adventure.

Rory pulled at the hem of his white wife beater and he pulled out of their kiss just long enough to allow her to pull it over her head. He ground his hips into hers, causing her breathing to quicken at the feeling of his hardened member against her. She could barely contain herself, and didn't want to.

Without any words, Tristan got up, and grabbed her hand, leading her into the bedroom. She pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him, again, grinding them together, causing twinges of excitement to course through their bodies.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered huskily as he undid her bra under her shirt and slid both off at once. Rory laughed.

"You too, huh?" she asked. Her simple response was enough to motivate him to go even further, tugging at her pants. She stood and allowed him to pull them off of her. Her panties were removed along with her pants, and she stood before him the way he'd always dreamed she would. Leaning in he kissed her hips, and then worked his way up over her stomach and abdomen and ever so slowly up her chest, stopping to give each breast individual attention before reaching her collarbone, then neck, and then finally her mouth.

At that point both with in a standing position, and his erection strained against his pants, which were flush against Rory, causing her to ache at the feeling of his harness against her lower stomach. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, as she worked to remove the final pieces of clothing which came between them. Finally, they were flesh on flesh, just as they had always wanted to be.

Tristan picked Rory up as though she weighed two pounds, and laid her gently at the top of the bed. He scrambled on top of her and kissed her deeply. Slowly, he allowed his hand to reach down between her legs and stroke her ever so lightly. A stressed sigh escaped her lips, as she moved her hips against his fingers.

Slowly, he allowed one finger to enter her, reveling in her wetness, and knowing it was for him.

"Not a Mary, anymore, Mary?" he asked softly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Not even close," she responded, pulling him in deeply and passionately for a kiss. After a moment, she grabbed his hips and positioned him over her. He looked in her eyes, silently asking for entrance, which she allowed whole heartedly.

"Birth control?" he asked softly, despite his ever hardening member.

"Pill," she said softly. He smiled and repositioned himself. Slowly he slid inside of her, feeling her muscles tighten around him. This is how he had always imagined it. Perfect.

He began to pump in and out, creating a slow and wonderful rhythm.

As they continued on, both came closer and closer to their climax, and both pumped faster, Rory meeting his ever move with her hips rising to meet his.

Finally, after several long minutes, they went over the edge together. It was like nothing either had experienced before, only in their dreams of each other.

Slowly, Tristan stopped pumping, and relaxed beside her, pulling her close.

"That was nice," he said softly. She laughed lightly.

"Slightly unexpected," she replied. He smiled.

"But well worth the wait."

With that, the two finally allowed themselves to sleep. Neither cared that they both had classes first thing in the morning. As far as they were concerned, all that mattered was the here and now. And here and now, they were together, and for the first time in years, everything was perfect.

Just a one shot fic. It's my first smut fic, lol. But yea, I rediscovered my love for Trory, and now I think it's time they deserve to have each other. Please read and reply, and don't hesitate to give me constructive criticism.

Critta