Chapter Five: Tinkerbell and Bawdy Remarks

---Gilmore Girls---

Waking up with a naked chest pressed against your nude back was something that would always be considered a daily routine for Tristan: although the girl was rarely ever the same. Skin melded against other skin, sticking together with dry sweat. Arms and legs tangled together after a night of sexual exploration, and events.

Tristan let out of a breath of air, contemplating rolling over and going back to bed before he had the strength to open his eyes. The sheets beneath him didn't feel like his own, and the pillow resting under his head of blonde hair was soft, and molded to the shape of his skull. Tristan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, before the previous night dawned on him.

He slept with Mary.

He'd all but forced himself on her.

He convinced her to play a sexual, complicated game of hide and seek with him.

"Shit," he groaned, rolling on his back, careful not to crush the small arm under his frame. He chanced his eyes open, and looked to his left and was met with the sight of a brown haired girl sleeping soundly in the midst of white sheets. He reached his hand over, and cupped her jaw line, blowing a strand of astray hair away from her face.

"Hmm," Rory sighed in her sleep, as she buried her head into the nook of Tristan's neck. Her hands skimmed over the tightened muscles of his stomach before finally finding a comfortable place on the cuts of his lower abdomen.

Tristan sighed, and pressed a kiss to her temple, before raising his back upwards, and gently pulled her arm out from under him; careful not to wake her in the process. Climbing out of Rory's bed, he glanced around the floor, and any other possible places of where he could locate his boxers.

Locating them at the foot of her bed, he slipped them on, and settled them lowly on his hips. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, letting his eyes settle on Rory for a few moments, before picking his jeans up, and pulling them on.

"Rory, darling! Are you home?"

Tristan's head snapped in the direction of Rory's bedroom door at the sound of Cheyenne's voice. "Shit!" he hissed, moving to grab his shirt quickly.

Cheyenne's hand grasped Rory's bedroom door's doorknob, and he twisted it, allowing him access to Rory's room, "Ror---? Whoa, you're not Rory." Tristan ran his hand over his neck, and shrugged. He glanced towards Rory's sleeping frown, before turning to look at Cheyenne. Cheyenne's jaw dropped, and he exaggeratedly pointed from Rory, to her bed, to Tristan and back, "Oh good God! Oh emme gee! You sexed up Rory! Oh my God!"

Tristan quickly closed the distance between them, and clamped his hand over Cheyenne's mouth, "Shhh," he hissed, shoving him out of the bedroom, and closing the door behind them. "You can't tell anyone – Rory can't even know that you know."

"You want me to pretend that I don't know what I know because you don't want her to know that you know that I know what I know?"

"Uh, yes."

"Oh my God!" he sighed, "You slept with Rory!" Cheyenne sniffed, dramatically slapping the back of his hand against his forehead. He dropped onto the sofa, and shook his head, "God – you've known her for less than a day and can already record her as a conquest. A victory. My good God! And I thought I was a man slut!"

"Chey," Tristan sighed, sitting down on an arm chair that resided next to the sofa, "I've known Rory for years…"

"Right."

"Cheyenne," Tristan warned, "It was a… heat of the moment thing. It's not going to happen again," he said, internally scoffing at the idea of not touching Rory intimately for a second and so forth time.

"Do you promise?" Cheyenne pouted, clapping his hands onto his knees, and throwing Rory's bedroom door a quick glance. He allowed himself to take in the pretty, pink feather boa that he used to take as a sign of belated innocence, "Because she's my best friend."

"I promise."

"Great," he nodded, standing. "Well… I'm just going to go play 'I'll show you mine, if you show me yours' with Alexander," he grinned, clapping his hands together flamboyantly, "He's very endowed."

"Thank you for that mental image."

"Oh, it's my pleasure, darling."

"Tristan?" Rory called, walking out of her bedroom, pulling a plain white sweatshirt over the tops of yellow, Tinkerbell boy-shorts she'd slipped onto her figure. Looking up, she stopped dead in her barefooted tracks, allowing her eyes to take in the sight of Cheyenne and Tristan talking, "Oh God!" she cried, throwing her hands over her mouth, her eyes becoming wide, and horrified, "He knows?" She squeaked towards Tristan, before letting her eyes befall on Cheyenne again, "You know?"

"I know, it's a secret," Cheyenne giggled, pressing his left index finger against his lips, "I won't tell."

Rory snorted, and ran her hands through her hair, "Riiight – and George Bush isn't an idiot."

"Someone's quippy this morning. Sex wasn't all that it was cracked up to be?"

"Hey!" Tristan snapped, smacking Cheyenne on the back of his head; walking towards Rory, he gave her an apologetic glance, "Look, Chey, me and Rory need to talk."

"I'm going, I'm going," Cheyenne relented, raising both eyebrows in his direction, "And Rory, darling, that yellow doesn't do your complexion any justice whatsoever."

"Ugh!" Rory groaned, stomping her way back into her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her.

"Tah, tah for now, my sexy little darlings!" Cheyenne called loudly, skipping out of the door, a grin firmly attached on his face.

Tristan bid Cheyenne adieu, and twisted the door knob to Rory's bedroom left slowly. He pushed the door open and allowed his eyes to settle on her small frame. He smirked, and closed the door, allowing his feet to guide him towards her, "It's not that bad," he told her, sitting down beside her on the bed. "It's probably better this way."

"It's embarrassing."

"How?"

"Cheyenne knows we had sex."

"So?"

"He now knows two of the three guys I've slept with. He wasn't supposed to know. It's going to be horrible now, Tristan. He's always going to make bawdy remarks about us being bed buddies."

Stroking hair away from her face, he smiled sadly, "This doesn't have to happen anymore, Mary," he whispered lowly, pressing a kiss against her temple, "I can just leave here, and go about my business while you go about yours. We won't talk about what happened last night. It'll never have happened in our minds."

"Tristan—"

"I won't be heartbroken, Mare – a bit disappointed about not being able to kiss you, but I'll be far from heartbroken."

"Tristan…"

"Hmn?"

"I don't want to stop being friends with benefits."

"Great," he laughed, laying back on her bed, his arms creating a pillow beneath his head, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What?"

"Have your dirty little way with me, Mary… Magdalene."

"Alright, buck-o. It's time for you to leave."

"Aww, but I don't wanna."

"Bye."

Tristan smirked, and sat up on her bed, wrapping his arm casually around her back, "You don't mean that, Mary," he whispered into her ear, letting his breath lace with the hairs on her neck, "Do you?"

"Bastard," Rory declared, turning her head and dusting a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

---Gilmore Girls---

Author Note: Tee he he, how amazingly idiotic was that chapter? I'm sorry about the delay, but it seems my darling brother couldn't keep his smutty paws off of my laptop – it's been broken, and fixed in a little over a week's time, and darlings, I am very excited it's fixed.

I never realized how addicted I am to the computer until recently. Read and Review.