"Hello?"

"Oh good," Rory whispered from under her covers, "you are still awake."

"Sure baby, I'm awake," Lorelai answered distractedly.

"Cause I was worried I might be waking you up, you know it is pretty late and you have to get up for work tomorrow…" Rory rambled.

"Ror, I'm up. What's up?" Lorelai cut to the chase.

"Nothing I just felt like talking. I couldn't sleep at all and you wouldn't believe who is…" Rory trailed off as she started to hear background noises of Lorelai whispering.

"Mom! Who are you talking to?"

"Oh well if you really want to know," Lorelai began with a mischievously naughty tone to her voice, "Luke and I worked up an appetite so I was hoping I could get him to scurry off and cook something for us. But you know Luke he's a very resistant scurrier. Although it does seem like he owes me it, considering tonight's events…"

Lorelai was quickly shushed by both her daughter and Luke.

As happy as Rory was for her mother, she certainly wasn't ready to have all that post-coital bliss spill out at her.

"call you later." And with that she was back in her dark room with no form of entertainment besides Paris who had taken to having intense philosophical discussions in her sleep.

Rory crept outside her bedroom and made her way to the small mini-fridge for a snack.

Peaking over the back of the couch, she could make out the outlines of Tristan's head.

Holding her breathe, she gave into an untraceable urge and slightly brushed her hand over the tips of his hair. She tried to ignore the warm feelings she got from the tickling of his hair against her palm.

"Rory are you stroking me?" Came Tristan's bewildered voice, crashing through the silence of the room.

Rory visibly paled and answered in a wavering voice, "nooo."

She turned immediately and starting back to her room, hoping he would drop it.

"then what were you doing?" Tristan said quietly this time, his voice rich with amusement.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Rory answered crossly, dodging the question.

"Why aren't you?"

"I asked first." Rory felt herself relaxing as they fell back into their old bantering pattern.

"I can't sleep. Why don't you come over here and tell me a bedtime story?" Tristan said jokingly.

Rory snorted at this and yet she drifted over the couch at the same time.

Rory sank down on the carpet and curled her legs to her chest, trying to conserve heat.

Tristan glanced down at her from where he was sprawled on the couch. She looked like a doll with her big tee-shirt and tiny frame.

Rory shivered unconsciously and Tristan felt the his gentleman traits kicking in.

He shifted himself so that his lanky frame wasn't stretching over the entire couch.

"Why don't you come up here? We've got warmth and everything."

Rory instinctively looked at him warily.

Tristan chuckled, sensing her reaction.

"Seriously, you look cold. It's no big deal" he said in a concerned way that was almost brotherly.

Rory responded to his tone and uncurled herself from her cramped position.

As she stood up, he could see where her boxers ended and met with long legs, that were almost glowing in the dark room. Part of Tristan wondered if all her skin was that perfect apple-white porcelain tone before he crushed it, reminding himself of all those brotherly thoughts he had just been considering.

Rory sat on the couch, at first rigidly as if trying to make sure none of her was even close to touching some of him , but soon she relaxed and allowed herself to sink into the folds of the couch and even began edging closer to Tristan who seemed to be the source of heat.

They sat there for a few moments and then Rory who had found herself drawing closer and closer to this boy-warmth next to her, breathed deeply-enjoying the smell of Tristan who of course smelled just like a boy should.

This of course didn't go unnoticed. Tristan turned his head to her, his eyes holding back laughter, and asked "did you just sniff me?"

Rory flushed and chuckled a little, and then said as if to explain, "you smell like Dean."

After that final word sank in between the two of them, her eyes immediately changed from a heavy-lidded and sleepy to a wide-eyed blue deer-in-the-headlights look.

Tristan tensed and felt all the ease he had felt slipping away from him. He may have long-ago removed himself from the battle but that didn't mean he had lost all the wounds; and this girl really knew how to find them.

Tristan had never been good with not winning, and he could feel all sorts of feelings whirling around in his mind as he remembered every time Rory had picked Dean over him.

Rory looked at him quietly, realizing the careless effect of her words a bit too late.

"I'm sorry, Tristan," She said quietly wanting to go back to the friendly mood of before.

Tristan turned to her with an all too familiar look in his eyes, one that harkened back to days before anything friendly between them; when things were tense and torturous and thrilling.

He leaned closer, too close actually, much too close for friends.

"What do you have to be sorry for Mary?" He said, his eyes daring her to do something.

Rory felt the blood pound to her face as soon as he said that. Mary. So he did remember.

Unable to take anymore of Tristan's powerful blue stare, she scrambled off the couch and back into her room and then shut the door loud enough so she could hear the thud and finally breathe again because she knew he wasn't still looking at her with those eyes.

At the noise, Paris startled in bed and looked at her with accusing eyes.

"what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on Paris," Rory said feeling slightly ill, "I awoke Tristan."

"Well, he'll go back to sleep," and with that Paris sank back into her dreams.

No. I don't think he will go back. He's him again and I made it happen.

Rory felt her knees start to give out and she made a move for her bed.