A/N: helllllllllooooooooooo here's part two of the kiss. hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: the characters from gg aren't mine.

Chapter Sixteen: The Passion Meter

He kissed her with passion that he had never felt before. She returned the kiss, numbed by the emotion coming from him. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe; she could only kiss him back with equal fervor. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her palms on his back. His hand traced its way from her back to her hair.

Her eyes remained closed as he trailed kisses down her neck, stopping and spending extra time at the base of her throat. It was then that she opened her eyes a little, and noticed the mountains of boxes they were standing between. She was immediately brought back into the world, back into reality.

"Tristan, stop," she whispered, his kisses trailing back towards her lips again. He heard, but chose to ignore her, once again finding her lips and kissing them eagerly. Rory felt herself falling back into the pool of warmth and passion, but caught herself at the last moment.

"Tristan!" she said, mustering enough self-control to pull away. She kicked a box over in her haste and the clatter of pots and pans brought Tristan out of his reverie.

"What are we doing?" she whispered, trying to catch her breath.

"I love you Rory. God I love you. I've been wanting for this for so long," he laughed in relief, "I've been waiting so long to tell you. God it feels great."

Rory looked down at the floor and sighed. "Tristan, I- I just don't know what to tell you. I mean, I don't-" She looked up and Tristan saw the tears in her eyes. He sighed, recognizing defeat. He backed up a step so that he was leaning against the counter. Having the support he lost all need to carry the rest of his body, his head leaned down until his chin touched his chest, his hands ran through his hair in frustration.

"Tristan, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "I don't get it," he said. "You kissed me back. I thought that-"

"I don't know what came over me Tris, hormones or something." She sniffled. "Tristan, listen to me. It's not you, it's me."

He snorted.

She ignored him and continued. "I'm still hung up over Dean. Maybe if things were different…"

"If things were different Dean wouldn't be interfering with our lives even after you vowed to keep him out of it."

Rory sighed. "You're right. If things were different we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be pregnant, you wouldn't be here helping me."

"Well as long as we're playing this game, if things were different you would have chosen me years ago when I first was in love with you. God Rory, why am I always second best?"

"That's not true Tristan. I don't think of you like that."

"Then why have you chosen Dean twice?"

"I wonder that all the time," she answered sadly. They stood in silence for several minutes before Rory quietly went up the stairs to go to bed.

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"I don't see the problem," Paris told Rory the next morning when they were shopping together for household items. "I mean, you kissed, you didn't like it, and you talked it over. Sounds like you've got it all worked out to me. You've made your position very clear, so has he. Now all that's left to do is have him move on. And that is completely out of your hands. Your job is done. Stop worrying about it."

"But that's just the thing," Rory said. "I don't know if I want him to move on."

Paris stopped the shopping cart abruptly. "What?"

"I'm all confused. I don't know what I want."

"Rory!" Paris said, exasperated. "You still have feelings for Dean. I mean, you slept with him knowing perfectly well that he's a married man. You must have felt some connection of magnificent proportions to do that, it's a very un-Rory thing to do. So now you're telling me that the 'love' you have for Dean has suddenly disappeared and you're head over heals for Tristan?"

"No," Rory protested. "No. I'm still not over Dean. And I'm still not sure I ever will be."

"So what's the problem?" Paris asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That kiss. It was just so…"

"Spit it out."

Rory eyed her friend skeptically. "Passionate."

"Ugh! God Rory, what am I going to do with you?" Paris started pushing the cart again, moving so quickly that Rory had to run to keep up.

"What do you mean 'what am I going to do with you?'" Rory mimicked.

"I mean," Paris said, pulling a set of cutting knives off of a shelf. " You can't run around 'falling in love' with all these different guys Rory."

Rory looked at the box of sharp knives, considered the baby, and put them back on the shelf. "I never said I was in love with Tristan."

"You're telling me that your kiss with Tristan was just as 'passionate' as your kiss with Dean."

"I never said my kiss with Dean was passionate. And will you stop using every other word in finger quotes."

"Sorry," Paris said, placing her hands firmly back on the cart. "But back to the point. If things weren't passionate with Dean, what were they?"

Rory thought for a moment, trying to find a way to describe the night she had spent with Dean. "It was lustful passion."

"That's still a sub-category of passion."

"It was just the culmination of months, maybe even years of pent up emotion and feeling. Pent up lust."

"Still passion."

"But it was never there before," Rory insisted. "When Dean and I were dating I never noticed it. Sure, it was fun to make-out and it was exciting. But I never once felt such passion between us on a day to day basis."

"Only the night you slept with him."

"Exactly," Rory said, examining a lamp. "Which obviously shows the clouds blocking my judgment."

"But it's different with Tristan?" Paris asked. "It wasn't just 'clouded judgment?'"

"Fingers!" Rory cried, pointing accusingly.

"Sorry. But you're saying that last night wasn't just two people getting caught up in the heat of the moment like it was with Dean? You're telling me that this passion-" Paris said, emphasizing the word with her voice instead of finger quotes. Rory nodded in approval. "- has always existed between you?"

Rory nodded. "Well, yah. It felt like it."

"It felt like it? When? Give me solid evidence."

"Well, he's helping me raise my kid. That's pretty passionate."

Paris rolled her eyes. "Try again."

"How about the time we kissed before."

"You kissed before?"

"Yah, at that party. Madeline's I think. I told you last year, remember?"

"Didn't you run away crying?"

"Well, yah."

"So it doesn't count."

"What! I ran away crying because I was all hung up over Dean. Not because the kiss sucked. It was full of passion. It was the most passionate kiss I ever had in my life. So full of passion that I think about it all the time."

"You're lying."

"A little. But it was passionate. I mean, it obviously was passionate enough that it told me he loved me."

"No it didn't."

"Of course it did! How else would I know?"

"He told you," Paris said matter of factly. "If it had been that obvious you would have gotten together with him right on the spot."

"Okay, so maybe he did tell me last night. But-"

"New example."

"Fine. When he left for military school and made that speech about wanting to kiss me, but Dean was there."

"And?"

"I really wanted to kiss him goodbye."

"But you didn't."

"No. Dean was there."

"If that was such a 'passion-'" she stuffed her fingers in her pockets. "passionate moment," she tried again, "then you would have kissed him, ignoring Dean. Instead, I was the next person you kissed that night."

"Thanks for reminding me," Rory said sarcastically.

"Now, since we have absolutely no evidence, this case is closed."

"But there was passion-"

"Tell it to the judge."

"You're the judge."

"And I said case closed."

Rory smiled. "I'm going to miss you this year. I'm so sorry that we won't be able to room together."

Paris smiled. "There is a way."

"How?"

"Do you and Tristan need a full time nanny? I double as passion meter!"