Disclaimer: If I owned 'em, you wouldn't have had to wait this long for this chapter…

Author's Note: Omg, she's alive! Well yeah, not really, kinda, sorta. I've been floating around doing things, stuggling to squeeze the next chapter of TIA out of this cluttered head of mine. I've been betaing some stuff both for this site and another, and I've been reading some awesome stories (which I shouldn't because then I feel like mine is a piece of poo and I want to scrap the whole thing and write something better). So yeah, I really don't have an excuse to why I haven't updated… and there's no excuse for this lame, short, little chapter that I just figured I'd post since it was laying around collecting dust on my hard-drive. So… I'ma force myself to write the next chappie and hopefully I'll get it up in the next couple days. Again, sorry about the shortness and the absence, and you guys totally rock for sticking with me for this long (I hope)!

Chapter 10

It was early morning when Rory woke up. She shifted ever so slightly and realized she was still in her clothes from yesterday, still hugging Dean close to her. All the sleep in her eyes seemed to evaporate and she jerked away, wondering just how she got there before remembering the details of yesterday. She sighed. Was her life ever going to lose its complexity?

She climbed out of bed and yawned, stretching, looking back over at Dean's peaceful face asleep still. She padded out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen where her cell phone lay glowing red on the top of the kitchen table. She frowned and flipped it open, seeing twelve missed calls all from her mother's cell phone. She flipped the phone shut again and dropped it back on the table with the two stacks of pros and cons lists she'd made. Rory felt a little indifferent. Let Lorelai worry some more.

Rory busied herself around the kitchen, cleaning and cooking. She thanked the lucky stars that she had taken those cooking classes during her hiatus from college back in the day, otherwise she wouldn't be able to cook toast. She found a nice little bed tray and set up two plates stacked with pancakes and eggs and bacon and some strawberries and blackberries. She placed a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee on the tray with some forks, knives, and napkins, and carefully carried the tray upstairs to Dean's room.

Dean was wide awake when Rory stepped into his room.

"Well, good morning sleepyhead," Rory greeted with a smile.

Dean looked over at her, trying best to hide his panicked look with a small smile.

"What's wrong?" Rory asked, setting the tray of food down on the bed and sitting on the side she had woken up on.

"Um," Dean frowned, "I thought you left."

Rory read the statement completely wrong. "Oh, did you want me to leave?" She was already shifting to get off the bed.

"No!" Dean reached over and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards him. "No," he said more gently and let go of her wrist, staring for a moment longer where his skin had touched hers. He sighed with a tired grin and looked up into her face. "I want you to stay. I just woke up and saw you weren't here, so I thought…"

"You asked me to stay," Rory said quietly.

"Yeah, but you never do what I ask, 'specially when I'm near comatose," Dean joked.

Rory lost the humor in the translation and shifted uncomfortably. The thoughts worrying her head the first day she went and saw him in the hospital after the accident were straying back into her head. She could've lost him. He could've died that night in that accident. And she would've never had another chance with him. He would never know how she really truly felt about him.

"You over-think too much," Dean smirked, seeing the tell-tale lost-in-thought expression on Rory's face. Then on a serious note, "I'm still here, Rory. Still kicking and breathing… well maybe not the kicking part, but that'll be back before I know it."

"It's not funny," Rory stated.

"C'mon…"

"You could've died, Dean," Rory snapped suddenly. "You could've died and then where would we be? I'd be at your funeral, for Godsakes, and then we wouldn't be here like this, just the two of us… confused as anything about these stupid emotions and thoughts whirling around our heads, not even capable of admitting to one another that we still care about each other and believing that its okay to care and… and…"

"Rory," Dean said quietly, cutting her off. She finally stopped ranting and looked down at him. "Rory, I love you."

It sounded so perfect on the still air that Rory just assumed that it was his way of making a joke and lightening the mood. "Funny," she muttered.

She moved to grab one of the forks when Dean's hands reached out to her and pulled her face down to his, their lips crashing together. And Rory found herself lost in that kiss. It was her first kiss all over again. It tasted like all the good things in the world -- coffee, honey, cinnamon, apples, salt on a seabreeze -- and it felt like all the wonderful things in the world -- that first step into the ocean, the butterflies in the stomach before a show, whisper-like dew clinging to your feet in the early summer mornings. It was deep and passionate, yet simple and soft. It was perfect.

"I love you," Dean repeated as they parted.

"I love you, too," Rory whispered, her face still close to his, where she could feel each puff of warm breath against her cheek. She smiled and sat up fully, helping prop Dean up against the headboard with a couple pillows.

Dean's eyes darted around the spread on the tray and he smiled warmly at her. "You made me breakfast?"

"Yeah," Rory said. "And it's edible."

"How come there's only one cup of coffee?"

"Because it's mine and you don't get any coffee, mister," Rory stated with a nod. Then, "I wasn't sure if you were allowed coffee or if it was even good for you while you are still recuperating."

"Rory, I'm not--"

Rory held up her hand to stop him. "I know, don't say it." She sighed and picked up her mug of coffee, bringing it over to him. "If you're good, I might just let you have a sip," she joked as she let him have a sip.

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