DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. These are fictional characters created by someone who isn't me, but used in an even more far-fetched situations to satisfy my own sick ends.

One of the perks of your mother owning her own inn is that you always have a free place to stay when you come home to visit. Unfortunately, this also means that she has the master key and could jump on your bed at eight o'clock on Sunday morning when she wants details of the previous night's happenings. Rory tried to ignore the bouncing and pulled the quilt up further over her head, holding tightly with her fist on the other side of her pillow.

"Go away," she tried in a sleepy voice, when the bouncing continued.

"It speaks!" came the gasp as the bouncing stilled.

"It's annoyed," came her curt reply.

"Rory, come on! The night manager called to tell me that you were dropped off by a very nice car in the wee hours of the morning," she said with a lilt in her voice.

"You're having people spy on me?" she brought the covers down just far enough to peek one eye out to look at her mother.

"Rory, this is Stars Hollow. I don't have to ask anyone to do any spying," she grinned at her daughter who was sporting a particularly bad case of bed-head this early morning.

"So, you knew I was out late and still you come in here at," she moved to squint towards the alarm clock on the night stand, "Eight in the morning?"

Lorelai shrugged. "I was up, I wanted to know."

"Why are you even up now?" Rory cried, flopping back down on her pillows.

"Luke, he gets up at these insane hours, and I guess over the last few years, he's brought me over to the dark side," she smiled happily.

"Wow. That look on your face is sort of sickening. Especially at this hour," Rory muttered the last part.

Lorelai sighed. "Fine. I figured you might react this way," she informed her before standing and moving to the door. Rory was relieved, for a moment thinking that Lorelai may just leave and let her get a few more hours sleep before trying this again.

But she should have known better. After all, she'd lived eighteen years with this woman. She frowned, realizing she was a little rusty on her mother's antics due to her living in New York the last few years.

When Lorelai reappeared in the room, she was holding a to-go tray full of Luke's coffee. Her nose disobeying her brain's cries for sleep, she sat up and reached out for the coffee. Lorelai just smiled, and shook her head.

"You really are my kid," she giggled.

"Coffee, now," she swiped at her mother.

"Will you spill?"

"The coffee? No," Rory smiled as she gave a loud yawn.

"No, details!"

Defeated and longing for a cup of Luke's coffee that she hadn't had in too long of a time, she nodded and gratefully received the cup her mother handed her as they both repositioned themselves on the bed. Rory pulled pillows up behind her to prop her up in her still not so awake state, and Lorelai sat cross-legged on the bed facing her.

"So, who does this car belong to?" Lorelai sipped her own cup of coffee waiting for Rory's response.

Playing with the plastic lid, Rory looked down for a moment before answering. She knew her mother was going to have a field day with this, and to be honest; she hadn't had enough time to process what had happened. When she woke up this morning, at the sound of the key being turned in the lock, before she was fully cognizant, her thoughts drifted to last night, scrolling through the party, the time at the mansion and then stopped on what happened in his car. She couldn't get the feel of his lips out of her mind, not that she would want to. She gave a smile, without realizing it.

"It was Tristan's car."

Lorelai noticed the dreamy look on her daughter's face, one she hadn't seen since Rory's last serious boyfriend had come on the scene back in college. Rory was a bit of an open book when it comes to guys—hiding her feelings isn't her forte. Lorelai wouldn't have it any other way.

"Wait, Tristan was the Emily set up?" she was confused, not thinking her own mother had that good of taste in men.

Rory shook her head, taking another gratifying sip of coffee.

"Okay, so, now Mommy's confused," Lorelai joked.

"Daniel was my set up. I talked to him, mmm, maybe ten minutes before I saw Tristan and we had this horrible fight," she explained.

"You and Tristan fought? Over what?"

Rory thought for a moment. She never really did understand what they were fighting over. She said hi, he got defensive and stormed out. He'd told her that he was stressed over work, but she didn't really believe him. He thrived on stress, especially when it came to work.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"You don't know? Take me through it," she prodded.

Rory explained the conversation they'd had, to the best of her memory. She told her how Daniel had come up and how she fled the building after Tristan, finally figuring out where he'd gone. She let the whole night unfold for Lorelai, the awkward silences and his apologies that occurred at the DuGrey mansion, leading up to the car ride to the Dragonfly. She got to the point right before the kiss and paused.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that it?" she asked knowingly.

Rory gave a slight blush and shook her head. "He kissed me," she said softly.

"Oh," Lorelai understood the mass of confusion that seemed to be coursing through her daughter. All the angst of the last few weeks were the result of exactly what Lorelai had thought—these two had it bad. "Well, was it a good kiss?"

Rory looked at her mother and nodded. "You remember how you felt when Luke first kissed you?"

"Oh my. You're in trouble," Lorelai remembered. What Rory wasn't aware of was that that feeling just wouldn't go away. It hadn't with Luke, not after all these years. He still made her insides melt and she just had no control when it came to that man.

"Yeah."

"So, you two are together now?"

Rory paused again, frowned and took another swig of coffee. Her problem with all this, the problem from the start, was that it wasn't clear-cut. It wasn't like this kiss was the result of a great first date—or a date at all. It was a ride home from a friend after they fought about something that neither of them could talk about. Feeling the frustration rising up in her, she groaned and put the empty coffee cup back into its holder.

"I have no idea," she sighed.

In Hartford, Tristan slept in until about eight in the morning. He couldn't get back to sleep though he tried, so he made his way downstairs where his grandfather was having breakfast in the kitchen with his cook serving food while he read the financial papers. He did this every morning, all his adult life. He heard his only grandson making his way down the hall and smiled behind the paper so no one could see.

Tristan sat opposite his grandfather, and began placing food onto his plate wordlessly. He was never one to speak much in the morning, not before he got to work. He enjoyed the calm quiet of the mornings, taking time to get his thoughts in order and to plan the day a little. That was one of the reasons he liked staying with his grandfather. His mother liked to chat at all mealtimes, and the old man read his paper every morning without ever—

"So, you got in late last evening."

He hung his head in defeat, almost not believing the situation. He looked up, noticing the paper was still in its upright position in front of Janlan's face.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Surprising, since you left the museum in a sure-fire hurry," he commented lightly again.

"I had some business to attend to," he kept his explanations short, hoping his grandfather would take the message.

"This business included Rory Gilmore, am I right?" he finally lowered the paper to look at his astonished grandson.

"Wha—how did you know?"

"Richard Gilmore is one of my oldest friends, Tristan. She was in hysterics with him last night after you raced out of that party, wanting to know my address," he informed him. "Richard thought it only right to warn me that my house may well be occupied when I came home."

"Grandfather, I didn't know she'd follow me," he gave a half apology.

"Oh really? You had no inkling that after that argument you two were having that she would follow you to finish it up?" he asked knowingly.

"I didn't think she cared," he said looking into his orange juice.

"Well, then you're a damn fool," came his grandfather's response.

So much for moral support, he thought. His grandfather seemed to be getting quite a kick out of this.

"Well, I saw the embers and the mugs, one with lipstick on it, so am I correct in the assumption that you two made up?"

Janlan had completely abandoned the financial times at this point, all his attention on his squirming grandson. He'd never really seen Tristan like this, the boy had always been very much in control of his life in all aspects. It was a trait all DuGrey men shared, and it didn't always leave them in the best regards of the women in their lives.

"Can we not talk about this?" Tristan pleaded.

"I don't think so. You brought it here, so now we get to talk about it for as long as it pleases me," Janlan assured him. When Tristan gave him a pained look, he tried another tact. "Look, I'm older and presumably wiser. Try me."

Giving a long sigh, he gave in to his grandfather's demands. He sure wasn't coming up with any answers himself. He tried to give his grandfather the details of last night, from his horrible attitude to his finding Rory on the doorstep to the last moments in his car outside the inn. When he was finished, he looked straight into his grandfather's eyes and awaited the wisdom he was promised.

But Janlan said nothing, he just shook his head. He stood up and gathered his plate from the table, placing it in the sink and pouring himself a second cup of coffee.

"Well?" came Tristan's impatient question.

"I was right before. You are a damn fool," came his even-tempered response.

Tristan rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Your guidance is astounding. Thank you."

"Tristan, tell me, what do you want from this young woman?" Janlan had walked over next to Tristan and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"I have no idea," came his response as he leaned forward, encasing his head in his hands.

Lorelai finally coaxed Rory to eat some breakfast at Luke's. She sat at the counter, watching Lorelai chat briefly with Luke, flirting as they always do, and thought about what her mother had said about how she knew with that first kiss that Luke was the real thing. She'd said that the whole time they were friends that she was scared of what might happen, and that it had felt safer to be in that in-between state of never knowing. Rory had always wondered how they never figured it out—it was obvious to everyone who saw them that they belonged together. She sighed and pushed some food around her plate as she wondered what someone who saw her and Tristan together thought.

Tristan finished packing his bag and left it in the hall before walking out to the gardens to find his grandfather to bid him goodbye. Janlan was walking amongst the rows of flowerbeds, empty and brown with dirt and dead sticks as it was every winter. He looked up to find Tristan approaching him and gave a smile.

"You're leaving?"

"I am. Thanks for letting me stay."

"Anytime. Perhaps next time you won't be alone?" Janlan winked at his grandson.

"Perhaps," Tristan sighed, unsure of what to even say to Rory, let alone to get a repeat performance of the last few seconds of their evening.

"Listen, I know your father and I aren't much as far as romantic role models go," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "but can I tell you what I've learned about women and love?"

Tristan was interested, his grandfather never even spoke about women since his grandmother had died five years prior. He cocked his head, showing his full attention as he stood facing the older man.

"When I first met your grandmother, she was working at a USO function. My platoon was shipping out to Korea two days later, and she was just the most breathtaking woman I'd ever seen. I asked her to dance, and she turned me down. Told me I could keep my false marriage proposals and my desire to get my last chance to propagate my family line to myself," he chuckled, remembering the evening as if she were standing in front of him saying it for the first time.

"So, what'd you do?" Tristan asked, enraptured in the story. He'd seen pictures of them around the time they got married, but never heard how they had met.

"I asked her to dance. Again. And again. Finally, she knocked me on my butt and told me to use my daddy's money to buy a clue."

"Wow. That sounds like Rory," Tristan smiled, remembering their encounters in high school.

"Anyhow, my buddies and I all left for the evening, and I realized I'd left my hat in the club. Our CO would have had my hide, so I jumped out of the car and ran back to the club, planning to hitch a ride back to meet the rest of my unit. When I got back, she was helping clean up and had my hat in her hands. I asked for my hat back, and she told me I could have it back if I danced with her. So I did, in the middle of this empty gymnasium, with no music playing. Afterwards, she gave me my hat and her address. By the time I got home from the war, we were engaged."

Tristan nodded, still not quite understanding the point of his grandfather's story.

"What I learned that night, and the rest of my married life with your grandmother was that she had everything I needed. Granted, that night it was just my hat," he smiled, "But if you feel strongly about a woman, you have to be persistent and let her lead you through it. Women are much better at these kinds of things, at least, the right ones are," he winked at his grandson.

"So you're encouraging me to bug Rory until she gives in?" Tristan laughed.

"I have a feeling you've done the bugging," he narrowed his eyes knowingly at Tristan. "What I'm suggesting is you go back for your hat."

AN: you guys rock so much! Seriously, I just looked at how many reviews I had for this story, and I'm blown away. The fact that you are all enjoying it so much, it really does drive me. That and I do enjoy writing these fan fics.