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.

She watched as he nodded in agreement, and then continued to remain silent. He was still just standing there, arms crossed over his chest and his expression changed from apprehensive to unreadable. Something shifted in his eyes and she knew he was thinking about this but unwilling to share his thoughts. She lowered her chin; her eyes still up on his and raised an eyebrow.

"So?" she asked pointedly.

"So, talk," he encouraged her, not giving her anything resembling an emotion to go off of. She should have known better, Tristan had never been the open book kind of guy. He was all for probing her and making her private thoughts and feelings accessible for his benefit, but he never divulged anything he didn't have to about himself. As close as she felt to him, if hard pressed, there wasn't much she could tell anyone about him that was personal.

"Okay," she paused, giving him one more look before sitting down on her couch. "So, you kissed me," she informed him as if he hadn't been in the same car on Saturday night. He was acting coy, wanting her to spell this out for him.

"I did," he agreed. He knew she would humor him just so long, and from the look on her face currently, her tolerance for his games was low tonight.

"Tristan," she warned. She wasn't in the mood to joke around about this, not after all the drama that had been built up in her head since the kiss had occurred. Not after the exhausting talks with Lorelai about what this did and didn't mean. Especially not after Lorelai getting her all hepped up about the comparison of Luke and herself getting together and Tristan and Rory now possibly getting together. She was afraid that Lorelai was just supporting this based on this fantasy that Rory had built up in her head over the last few weeks. But mostly she was afraid that she was imagining all these feelings being mutual.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch. "I kissed you," he said with finality in his voice.

Both were looking at their laps, her playing with the ring on her right middle finger, and him too caught up in the fact that this was actually happening to look right at her. She was consumed still with the thought of the kiss, but Tristan had another image he couldn't quite shake from his brain.

"What was he doing here?" he asked suddenly, deciding if they were really going to talk about the state of things, it all had to be out on the table. As it is in business, so it should be in any real relationship. He liked to play with full knowledge of a situation.

"What?" she asked, now looking up into his waiting eyes, confused as to how this related to the kiss at all.

"That guy, the one from the benefit, he was just here," he reminded her.

"Oh. How did you know that?" she asked defensively, not liking his insinuation.

"Were you with him all weekend?"

He hated himself for even thinking it—and the look on her face gave him his answer immediately. He couldn't stop himself from asking; it was just the way the words fell from his mouth. While he did want to know how this guy factored in, he hadn't meant to say those words that had been floating into the forefront of his mind.

"What if I was? You never called," she came back, and if he'd been watching this exchange and not personally involved, he would have been quite proud of her for using just the right amount of scathing anger and shoving back the insane speculation.

"Rory," his tone implied that this wasn't the best time to plant seeds of doubt in his mind.

"He called me. He took me out for coffee," she offered those bits of information hastily and nothing more. She knew she didn't owe him anything, especially after the thoughts he'd obviously been having about her. She wrapped her arms around herself, a sure sign that her defenses were sky high.

"Coffee?" he asked, almost sounding ashamed of himself.

"Coffee."

He looked at her unwavering glare that she seemed to reserve for him—it made him want to crack and confess that all he'd really wanted to do since that night was kiss her again. He didn't want to be discussing Daniel at all. He knew that she had done nothing wrong. She was right—he hadn't called. He hadn't known what to say exactly, but he was here now. He needed to say something to make her see that she didn't need to waste her time anymore with these guys that it wasn't going to work out with, but she started talking again instead.

"I don't even know why I'm bothering to explain myself to you anyway. You may have kissed me in the car that night," she paused, gathering her courage a little and trying to push all the desire to kiss him again out of her system, "but obviously it meant nothing. Daniel is a really nice guy, and it was good to just go out and enjoy a good conversation over a cup of coffee with someone."

He heard her words again, as if they'd rushed past him, bounced off the wall and shattered against him. 'It meant nothing.' He looked at her, her face was set and determined, and he couldn't tell if she were bluffing.

"So, you like this guy?" he managed, his brow furrowed as he was trying to dissect the meaning of her last tirade.

She looked confused, and he thought maybe he was cracking her façade. They were both on edge right now, trying not to let the other in too much—if at all.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, willing herself to say yes, she did like Daniel. That if she hadn't been so confused by Tristan's unstable advances that she would have made future plans to go out with Daniel, gotten to know him and probably dated him for quite some time. She wanted to say that so badly, but looking at him, and the anticipation on his face—she just bit her lip.

This wasn't how this evening was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to be sitting on her couch asking her how much she liked this guy. This guy that she barely knew and that didn't matter at all. He had nothing to do with this relationship that he and Rory had been building. This guy doesn't know her like he knows her.

He stood up, and walked over to her entertainment center. She watched him, still speechless, and wondered what he was doing. He picked up the DVD's he'd brought; she assumed so he could leave. But instead, he started reading them off to her.

"So, we have Indiscreet, Say Anything, Four Weddings and a Funeral, and of course," he paused for dramatic effect, "When Harry Met Sally. What'll it be?"

She stood, and shook her head. "What are you doing?"

He sighed, and set the movies down. "Look, forget Daniel," he said, his voice lowering as he stepped closer to her. He pulled her to him, grabbing her arms just above the elbows. She looked into his eyes, letting him nestle her close, so she could breathe him in.

"I've been thinking about this. Maybe you and I aren't the most obvious relationship—no one is setting us up together. But whatever this is, I think I like it," he confessed, looking into her eyes still, now very close to her. He could feel her shaking slightly under his touch. Her arms were at odd angles, sort of half folded between them, and now she let her hands rest against his chest. He could feel her relaxing against him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Tristan, why did you come over here?" she asked with the strongest voice she could find—which at this point was shaky and quiet, hoping at this point he'd be straight with her.

"I came over to spend time with you," he leaned his face down and his lips were right above hers.

She could practically feel his lips on hers again, and she wanted to talk about this like the normal, rational adults that they were but the desire to be kissed by him was too strong. She gave him a slight nod, and his lips were on hers at last. He let go of her arms, and allowed her to slide her arms up around his neck. He placed his hands on her hips, as her mouth opened at the insistence of his caressing tongue. He picked her up off the ground and held her to him. When he finally put her down lightly and they came up for air, she had a faint smile on her face that matched his.

"I lied before," came her soft voice from the vicinity of his chest. She'd leaned her forehead against his chest, now filled with relief from the physical contact.

"When?" he asked, pushing aside some of her hair with his nose, kissing the top of her head.

"When I said it meant nothing. This isn't nothing," she admitted, looking back into his eyes.

As if those were the words he'd been waiting for, and he reclaimed her lips, picking her up and spinning her around before walking them back over to the couch. The talking was over, for tonight anyway, there was no need for words now.

AN: Okay, yes, I know I was evil for leaving you hanging last chapter, and I would have had this up sooner, but I wanted to fix it up all nice and pretty like for you—the version I had last night wasn't up to snuff. I've been working insane hours, so this is truly as fast as I could write! I hope this was worth the wait.