Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews, your feedback keeps me going :) Finally, some Lit time :)

WARNING: M CONTENT AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER (started out as borderline M but somehow developed into honest M at some point, so BE WARNED :) I think I'm changing the rating since this chapter, just to be sure. Have been thinking about it for a while, I guess the time has come.

'The Vamp coming at one o'clock. Beware,' Paris leaned over the nurse's station counter to whisper her warning to Tristan who was sitting in a swivel chair, filling out the surgical schedule.

'I tried calling you,' Beatrice Shefield said, looking directly at Paris.

'It was you, Blocked Number!' Paris exclaimed with exaggerated excitement. Then, turning towards Tristan who looked up at her with his most innocent poker face, 'I knew it was her.'

'I told you. You should've picked. She's your boss you know,' Tristan reasoned in what was probably supposed to be his wise voice. Really, Dugray? Paris rolled her eyes so only he could see how full of shit she thought he was. He shrugged.

'She's your boss too, dumbass,' Paris cocked her head to the side, arching an eyebrow.

'You have no manners whatsoever, Gellar,' Tristan commented, amused. 'That's why we're such a good team. Come on,' he stood up, circling the counter to throw an arm over her shoulder, 'let me get you a triple espresso before we scrub in for the nephrectomy in Third.'

'That urge to punch you in the gut is getting stronger with every passing day, Dugray,' Paris sighed, following anyway.

'Can we try and drown it in free triple espressos?' He leaned over her ear conspiratorially. 'The barista is a fan of mine.'

'I bet poor baristas' ovaries all over the world just don't know what to do with themselves at the sight of you.' Paris shook her head in mock condescending way. 'Lead the way, Casanova.'

They exited the room, bickering on their way to the cafeteria, leaving a bitter looking Shefield behind.

'You know, I used to find this nagging,' Tristan kicked a couple of stones along the roof terrace, approaching Rory with both hands in the pockets of his jeans.

She was also in her civilian clothes, sitting with her knees folded beneath her, watching as the ambulances pulled in and out of the hospital parking lot.

'Sorry?'

'This thing you do, circling people in and out of your little bubble of friendship.'

'Oh,' she smiled in recognition. This they did.

'But now that you're standing up for me and I'm actually in the bubble...' Tristan shook his head thoughtfully. He let out a low chuckle. 'It's fucking awesome!'

Rory smiled.

'It is, right?'

'Damn right.'

They stood in amicable silence for a while, him standing straight with his hands in his jeans pockets, her sitting on her right hip, a palm resting to the side over the rooftop deck to support her weight.

'Don't disappear on them like that again,' Rory spoke in a couple of minutes, catching him by surprise.

'What?'

'Josh has been moping around wondering what his mom does wrong to make all men in her life pull away,' Rory explained calmly, unfazed by his surprise.

Tristan was staring, wide-eyed.

'Yeah,' Rory nodded knowingly. 'Can you try and be smart about whatever is going on between you and Paris?'

'I...' Tristan's jaw tensed and a muscle over his neck strained as he looked ahead, his eyes somber. 'I thought that's what I was doing.'

Rory stood up, helping herself by pushing up with her palms, and moved to stand beside Tristan, looking ahead in similar fashion. She chewed on her lower lip, giving her next words some thought.

'The most miserable time in my life was when the person I wanted to be there for the most shut me out completely.'

Tristan opened his mouth and then closed it.

'Whatever you're going through, she can handle it.' Then, after a moment's pause, 'If you let her.'

They stood like that, each of them staring ahead, not rushing to end the silence.

'Shit,' Tristan hissed between his teeth, shaking his head.

Rory put a palm over his shoulder and tilted her chin to look up at him.

'She's more herself when she is around you,' she said calmly. 'And she cares about you. A lot.'

Tristan's head snapped to the side, the look in his eyes stormy and hurt.

Rory smiled, squeezing his shoulder once before stepping back.

'I know you care about her too,' she gave him a nod. 'But maybe you should consider stop pretending like that's not much of a big deal. So you don't hurt each other unnecessarily.'

He looked at her, unblinking and concerned. She smiled again and gave him a nod before making her way to leave.

'I'm gonna go pick Jess. Oh, and just to be warned,' she added, turning at the metal door before she stepped back inside, 'He was totally gonna kick your butt in the gym and have a one on one with you. I made him give me a chance to talk to you first. But if i were you, I would keep my crotch at more than a leg's length.'

'Are you back?'

'Eh?'

Tristan looked up, frowning a little. He had been fidgeting with the car key for a while now. He had brought the boys back from a football training and they were currently upstairs in Josh's room, playing a video game. Paris was unloading groceries from a big paper package and they hadn't established eye contact yet. After the small stunt they pulled in front of Shefield two days ago, they hadn't really talked much, greeting each other in the corridors, the whole exchange brief and somehow lacking its usual easy flow. He had texted her earlier today, suggesting he could pick up the boys from their football practice and she had texted him back, taking up on the offer. And here they were, him awkwardly leaning against the door frame of Paris' living room while she was in the adjacent kitchen getting cupboards and fridge doors open and closed.

'Are you back to being my friend or are you gonna go MIA on me again?' Paris clipped. Then, with a little more resignation, right after closing a cupboard to her left and turning to face him, 'Because I could use a friend right now.'

Tristan stilled for a moment, his back going into a straight line as he uncrossed his ankles and stood taller, facing her. She was looking at him with her expression open, showing some uncertainty and some apprehension, but what hit him was the acceptance he found in her eyes, somehow knowing she had forgiven him for standing her up and caving in for weeks. He blinked, his Adam's apple bobbing a couple of times before he walked further into the room, taking a seat on one of the high stools and leaning both his arms over the kitchen counter, giving her a nod. His eyes were calm as he regarded Paris for a moment before telling her a quiet

'I'm here.'

Paris let out a sigh, composing herself. She tried not to ooze too much relief although it was kind of obvious in the way her shoulders relaxed.

'I think Josh is being bullied. Not majorly. I mean, the way four year olds bully each other. I think he was on the receiving side of it a couple of times now and I wanna stand up for him, but I don't want to lead his battles for him either.'

She groaned, rubbing a palm against her forehead.

'Sometimes I miss Doyle and his useless fatherly advise.'

'They talk?' Tristan asked, his voice calm and void of judgement. 'I mean Josh and Doyle. They still kind of close?'

Paris shrugged, puffing a breath out.

'I guess... kind of.'

She chewed on her lower lip, shaking her head thoughtfully, playing with an apple over the counter.

'Josh looks up to his father and Doyle loves spending time with him, on the phone or otherwise. I mean, it's not like he lacks proof that his father loves him. But it's not the same as having your father by your side daily. They're more like a brother pair than a father and son. Doyle is the superhero big brother who's always away in search of his true self. However, I think if Doyle was around for the routine everyday stuff and not only for the fun I-missed-you-so-much-buddy-let's-do-something-awesome-together part, it would be different. I don't know.'

Tristan's mouth pressed into a thin line, a bitter smile grazing his lips. He had had his father around as a child. It never provided the kind of comfort Paris imagined. As a matter of fact, it had been that constant reminder of how habitually disappointed his family was with him. They say kids who were trouble in school did stupid stuff as a cryout for help, trying to bring attention upon themselves. Maybe. What Tristan's experience had taught him was he could never live up to someone's unvoiced standards. Every time he tried to become visible, it turned out he did it the wrong way. His parents would forever out him from the family, so he could as well stay like that - the dislocated joint of a socialite family, the shameful dropout who never got it right with the people who brought his life into this world.

'I'm never gonna be anybody's kid,' Paris' voice came, somehow voicing his own thoughts.

He tilted his head to the side and gave her a questioning look.

'You know how when you go somewhere you don't go in by yourself, you've got all that backlight shine - where you come from, who your parents are, what social circles you used to move into. Because you're someone's son or daughter and somehow your parents stand up for you even when they're not around. It's not even about your family name. But when life goes rough and you get yourself thrashed up, you can always go back to your mom and dad's, have somewhere you belong,' she let out a sigh.

Tristan got off the high stool and moved around the corner, stopping right before her. He brought both of his hands up, wiping the underside of her eyes with his thumbs. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and sparkling.

'Panda eyes,' he explained in a low voice, his gaze lingering over her face for a moment before he stepped back, leaning his hip against the counter, his attention never breaking from her. Paris looked down and shook her head.

'I'll never have that. Never had a real connection with my parents to begin with. But for Josh, I want him to have it. I want him to feel that he's someone's kid, that someone will stand up for him, fiercely so, if he needs a backup.'

'He knows that, Paris,' Tristan narrowed his eyes. 'He is absolutely aware, believe me. He knows that every step he takes, he's under close surveillance. Have you forgotten how powerful your scrutiny is?' he smirked, making her roll her eyes.

'He's a boy,' Tristan reasoned, 'he'll get into fights. He'll learn how to deal with bullies, both from his own experience and from the way you handle the information he chooses to confide in you. But don't ever doubt he knows that you have his back. He does.'

She looked up questioningly.

'You think?'

Tristan let out a low chuckle.

'You make it painfully clear.'

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Painfully.'

Tristan shrugged, his smile growing wider.

'In that hurts so good way, yeah. You're his favorite fascist.'

She took a deep breath and stood straighter.

'I could live with that.'

'I thought you would.'

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

Their eyes locked and he could tell hers were grateful. They were shining with a myriad of emotions. The way she was looking at him pulled a string within his chest and he took a sharp breath in, clapping his hands together in an exaggerated display of vigorousness, trying not to drown into the way she made his head reel in moments like these.

'Now let's make me a sandwich.'

'You make yourself a sandwich,' Paris waved a hand towards the fridge.

'That's what I said, wasn't it?' Tristan smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his slim-fit henley.

Paris rolled her eyes and passed him by on her way to her room. At the foot of the stairs she turned, taking in how at ease this man who had become such a substantial part of her life moved around in her kitchen. Sometimes it was so easy to play house with him. It was both stunning and terrifying. She shook her head with a small sigh, willing herself to go change before those heels killed her legs irrevocably.

'What do you mean by 'not enough'?' Jess frowned, a deep crease forming across his forehead.

Rory chewed on her lower lip, feeling the blush on her cheeks spread up, burning her ears, creeping down her neck.

'I know that in the grand scheme of things I'm enough. I'm... I don't know, I guess I'm special since I'm carrying your child in my womb and all but... somehow, sometimes, it doesn't feel like enough.'

Jess blinked, seemingly at a loss.

'I'll need some clues,' he said with his eyebrows still drawn together, resting back on the sofa with his arms folded before his chest, watching her intently. He looked dead serious, like he was really trying to see her reasoning behind this.

The thing was, Rory wasn't sure there was a whole ton of sound reasoning behind this. It could be the hormones. Pregnant women were crazy with hormones right? That's why she had pushed that feeling away for so long now. Months. Months in which she had tried to bypass the topic like it was a whim to dismiss, something that was about to go away the moment her body came back to its original parameters. Once it did. If it did. Hopefully.

Ah, she needed to stop this. It was driving her insane. And it felt somehow... petty, compared to the grand scheme of things. Because she was gonna be a mother, another living person was gonna come out of her womb, and were mothers supposed to be self-centered and whiny just because they felt like a distorted version of themselves and maybe carried around a ton of pent up sexual frustration that hadn't found a let out?

She blew air from her cheeks and started pacing under his laser gaze. Why wasn't he making a joke? Usually he would say something sarcastic to make light of the situation, while he was watching her carefully, trying to understand what the hell she meant. Wasn't it obvious? Or did he think she had a point? Is that why he kept silent? Silently consenting to her mortification?

She shook her head. She needed to stop being in her head and talk. Talk. She could do this. She was a Gilmore. She could talk. Like hell she could. But could she explain? Could she explain what was bothering her when she wasn't sure she understood it herself?

'It feels like we're still us but we're failing at keeping things up like they used to be,' she started, rolling her eyes with frustration at the ridiculousness of her own words. 'I mean, there used to be this feeling of... desperation when you would reach for me. Like if you didn't get to me in time and touch me right this minute the world could end. Or when you talked to me when... you know,' she made a gesture with her hand. 'You would say borderline inappropriate stuff and I would pretend to dismiss your profanities but we both know I love it when you mouth off.'

She let out another puff of air, running both hands through her hair, glancing at him briefly, finding him listening intently, sitting on the couch with his arms still folded before his chest. His intent silence frustrated her to no end.

'We would touch for the sake of touching,' she said almost angrily, feeling her voice get stuck somewhere at the back of her throat.

God, this was so embarrassing. So, so embarrassing. However, once you start a conversation like this, there's no getting out of it. So, she continued.

'We would make love but sometimes we would just... you know,' she licked a lip, looking at him pleadingly, waiting for him to confirm that yeah, he did know. The line between his brows didn't get any less deep. Oh boy.

'Sometimes it would be just mindless chemistry and there would be a carelessness in it. Like... like we were free to do whatever we wanted, like we didn't have a care in the world.'

She stopped pacing right in front of him and crossed her arms before her chest, her elbows practically resting over her belly. Talk about the perks of having a pregnant belly.

'Will you say something?' she asked, her voice giving into the aggravation.

He arched an eyebrow.

'What do you want me to say?' he asked.

Wrong thing to say.

'I don't know,' she sighed, feeling the anger simmer. 'You can start by not looking like you're trying to find a way to operate on an end-stage carcinoma.'

The corners of his mouth moved an inch up but he smoothed them almost instantly. She was shooting daggers at him even before he decided he found her insecurities amusing. How she wanted to smack him with something. She did in fact dart a look around the room, her gaze pausing over a medical journal of six hundred pages. That could make for good smacking device.

The corners of his mouth twitched again and he concentrated on the effort not to smile. Again. Not to smile again. The nerve he got.

'I saw this,' she narrowed her eyes at him accusingly.

He took a breath. It was no use, the laugh was already bubbling within his chest.

She felt so frustrated. And helpless. And minuscule. With her pitiful fears. With her petty insecurities. With her helplessness against her own changing body. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Great. She couldn't even tell if it was from frustration or anger, but she felt her eyes well up. And Jess, the fit and gorgeous as hell Jess who was comfortably at ease with his cut, trained, free of stretch marks body, had the nerve to laugh. Her palm itched to slap the smirk off his face.

'Stop it,' she hissed, lifting both hands to cover her eyes with the back of her fists. 'Seriously, Jess, if you don't stop laughing right now, I'm gonna smack The Lancet flat on your face.'

Rory felt his palms against the side of her arms. She made a move to step out of his hold but Jess moved with her, taking hold of her sides, his eyes still twinkling with laughter.

'Stop laughing,' she groaned.

'I'm trying,' he said, making an effort to calm his breathing as the laughter finally subsided. 'I am,' he insisted as he saw her look of disbelief. 'It's just the situation is funny.'

She rolled her eyes and made another attempt to step out of his hold but he stepped closer and looped an arm around her back, pressing her head into his chest into a hug. She felt his smile against her temple.

'The situation,' he murmured against her hair, 'not you. I wasn't making fun of you, I swear.'

Rory let out a groan against his shoulder.

'The fact that you find my fears amusing is making me feel so much better.'

'You know what's so funny?' he asked, his tone calm and conversational as his breath brushed her ear. 'The fact that for months I've been jacking off over the mental image of having you against any surface available in this apartment, while you were lying in the next room, feeling horny and miserable, instead of just coming to me and telling me you miss being desperately inappropriate with me,' he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed his lips against her ear. 'And I can muster being desperately inappropriate and get as far as making you feel good. So, so good.'

'It feels like we're worse at being ourselves. So many things are changing,' she said quietly, her voice trembling, moving her arms to circle his waist. Like if he decided to step away now she wouldn't let him. 'I feel like the situation requires me to be someone else, someone more mature and selfless.'

'What situation?' he murmured into her hair.

'Becoming a mother, bringing another human into this world. Like I've got all this responsibility to be wiser than to ask for sex here and there.'

'You've been going around asking for sex?' Jess drew his head back so he could have a look at her.

She rolled her eyes and bumped her forehead against his chest, letting it rest there with a suppressed groan.

'You know what I mean.'

'Like, knocking at the neighbors' asking for it? Or posting it on your social media calendar? Walking the streets shouting for it?'

She swatted his shoulder, pressing her forehead further against his chest in mortification.

'Stop it, you know it wasn't like that.'

'I'm your husband, Rory,' Jess said, smoothing her hair, letting out a slow sigh. 'You can tell me anything.'

'Technically, you're still my fiance,' she corrected him, deciding to stick to factuality.

'I wanna be your husband. I want you to be my wife. The sooner, the better.'

'Like... have a wedding?' she put her head up, drawing back a little so she could see his face.

'Like I wanna put my signature on it. I don't really care about the circumstances,' he said, his eyes firmly set on her.

'But...' she licked a lip, her brain suddenly working a hundred miles a minute.

A pregnant bride?

She winced. She had always so not imagined herself as a pregnant bride. Hadn't, until recently, imagined herself pregnant period. Agh.

As if he could read her thoughts, Jess lifted her chin so she was looking directly at him.

'I don't care how it will or will not look. All I care about is you. I wanna be a family with you.'

'Well, that's good because the rest of the world-'

'The rest of the world can go fuck itself. You can tell the rest of the world I choose you over them,' he smirked, his thumb tracing her chin. 'We're making it official whenever you feel right to do it.'

She blinked, looking at him, trying to imagine herself into a double size wedding dress, walking penguin-style down the aisle balancing a bouquet over her belly.

'Meanwhile,' he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, 'I could try to convince you how good it could be to be my wife.'

Her skin broke out in goosebumps at the feel of his tongue. Tracing a soft line down her neck, then moving on to the hollow of her throat.

'I choose you over anybody else,' he moved to kiss her clavicle before circling her, moving to stand behind her as one hand took hold of her chin and the other of her hip.

'Do you have any idea what you do to me?' he asked, his voice a low rumble. He gently nudged her head to the side so he could move onto the exposed skin, nipping and tasting with purpose.

'Feel what you do to me,' he whispered hoarsely, his breath feathering the wet traces he'd left over her neck, her skin coming alive with each brush of his lips. Her whole body was tingling, humming at his proximity. He took hold of her hips with both hands and pulled her back against himself, both letting out a growl as he pressed against the small of her back, blatantly ready through the denim of his jeans and the cotton of her sweater.

'I want you so much it hurts,' he said, his nose buried into her hair as he inhaled, bracing himself. 'It hurts to restrain myself and not selfishly take everything I want from you but I'm gonna have you writhing and pleading until I'm convinced you want me just as much as I want you before I take you right here in the middle of the room while you're holding onto the back of the armchair.'

Rory whimpered, feeling her whole body flush, unable to censor her reaction as she pressed back into him.

'Is this,' she swallowed, finding her voice dry and breathy. 'Is this how you imagined it?'

'Let me show you just how I imagined it.'

TBC