Chapter 3: Restless

The floorboard creaked quietly under her weight as she entered the guest room, the light from the hallway flooding into the darkened room, allowing her to see the bed and make out the still form that slept peacefully under sheets. She turned, softly closed the door behind her and waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then she tiptoed to the bed, wondering for the thousandth time if it were a mistake to come into Tristan's room in the middle of the night – with all the complexity and suggestive implications her visit would bring. And yet she was not able to stop herself, regardless of her fear and doubts.

She neared the bed and was just about to reach out and shake him when he turned on his side and faced her, eyes opening slowly and sleepily. Then he was sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling at his waist and flicking on the lamp on the side table. The soft glow from the lamp fell on his face, illuminating his confusion and worry. "Rory? What's wrong?"

Suddenly, she felt foolish and had to fight the urge to turn and bolt out of the room. Instead she managed a smile and shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he scooted to the side, inviting her into his bed. "Well then, you can sleep here."

Grateful and hesitant at the same time, she slipped under the covers and slept on her side, facing him with her hands tucked under her head. He copied her position and searched her face, quietly. She let out a breath and squirmed and averted her eyes from his scrutiny. "I was going to go sleep with Mom and Luke but I don't think the bed is big enough for the three of us. And I really didn't want to disturb Grandma. She's so exhausted…"

"It's okay," Tristan said gently and then touched his fingertips to her cheek. "I don't mind."

"That's good," she whispered as his fingers swept across her cheek and then tugged lightly at the hair that was resting there. She snuggled against the mattress and let out a tired sigh.

"Better?"

"Much," she answered, her eyes closing. "Tristan?"

"Hmm?" His fingers were working their way down the curve of her neck, skimming lightly across her collarbone making delicious little tingles run up and down her spine.

She opened her eyes and fixed them on his so intently that his fingers stopped their ministrations as he stared back at her. "I really am glad that you're here. I can't imagine having anyone else here to comfort me. I wouldn't want anyone else."

He smiled, genuinely for the first time in a long time and kissed her forehead. "You're welcome, Rory."

Smiling back, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, pleasant slumber.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Of course now that she's asleep, I can't even close my eyes, Tristan thought bitterly as he watched Rory breathe in and out while she slept. Torn between wanting to touch her and wanting her out of his bed at the same time, Tristan opted to sleep flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to push out the soft, humming sound coming from the woman beside him.

It wasn't like Rory hadn't slept in his bed before. She had - many times over the past nine years. And every single time, excluding the first, he knew that in the harsh light of day it was going end badly for both of them. Because sleeping with Rory Gilmore – even in the most innocent way possible was never simple and refreshing. He had enough experience with it to know that when she was concerned, all bets were off.

Because with Rory he never knew what to expect…

"That's Rory Gilmore. She goes here." Tristan heard a male voice say. "Wow, I always thought she was shy."

Curious, he turned and tried to spot the brunette among the throng of Harvard students gathered at the fraternity house for what he thought was the lamest party ever. Shocked, he immediately spotted Rory seated with four or five guys who seemed to be hanging on her every word as she rambled on about something he couldn't hear because of the crappy alternative music that blaring through the music system. Concerned he neared the group just as Rory burst into a gale of giggles.

She's drunk, he thought surprised and then his eyes narrowed when he saw one of the fraternity guys handing her a glass of punch – spiked punch – which was probably not her first glass.

"This stuff is really good," Rory told the red-haired guy beside her, whose hand was skimming slightly over her thigh. "I wonder if my Mom knows the recipe."

"I don't think so," he answered with a grin.

"Oh I'm purty sure she does," she slurred and then looked down at his hand. "That tickles."

She's definitely drunk. Oh God, Tristan thought as he closed in on her. Not wanting to cause a scene, he remained calm. "Hey Rory."

"Tristan!" she exclaimed giddily and stood up, promptly swaying back and clutching her head in agony. "Ooh, I think I got up a little too fast. Wow, those head rushes can really hurt."

"I'm sure," he replied tightly, keeping his laughter at bay. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Hey!" the red-haired guy protested. "I was just getting to know her."

"Well sorry to ruin your fun," he answered curtly as he picked up her jacket from the couch. "She's going home."

The red-haired boy stood up and took on a confrontational position. "What are you? Her father? Why don't you stop being a caveman and let the lady decide for herself."

"And why don't you back off before I shove my fist in your face?" Tristan shot back and grabbed Rory's wrist. "Let's go."

Giggling, Rory waved to her new friends. "Bye boys!"

"What's the matter with you?" Tristan said as he helped her into his car. He strapped her into the passenger side and then walked over to the driver's side, trying not to freak out. "How many glasses of that punch did you have?"

"Six." Rory answered and held up five fingers. Frowning she looked at her hand. "That's not right."

"Jesus," Tristan said under his breath and then smiled at her. "Hold on, Mary. I have to get you home."

"You're such a sweetheart, Tristan," Rory said with a dramatic gesture of her hands. "That's what I like about you. I can never really tell who you're gonna be from one minute to the next."

"So bipolarity turns you on?" he grinned at her as he maneuvered his car. He was pretty sure there weren't going to be any more instances where he would get to banter with a drunk Rory Gilmore so he was going to milk this one for all it was worth.

She giggled again and poked her finger at him. "And you're funny."

"Thank you," he replied with mock modesty. "Did you drink that stuff knowing what was in it?"

"What was in it?" Rory asked confused. "It was very good punch. It tasted like strawberries and watermelon. And it tickled the roof of my mouth. I think I am on a sugar high."

"Oh boy," he muttered. "Why did you go to that party anyway? Don't you have studying to do?"

"Now what good does studying do?"

"Um, it gets you where you want to be?"

"What if Harvard isn't where I wanna be?" Tristan pulled into the deck of his apartment complex and quickly parked in his spot. Rory turned to him, looking upset. "Why do I have to go to Harvard? My mom didn't go to school and her life turned out just fine. And there are lot of people from Chilton who aren't in college."

"Yeah and they're living off of their parents Rory," Tristan reminded her. "You wanted to go to Harvard all your life. What suddenly happened to make you change your mind?"

Rory turned away from him and pouted. "I don't want to talk about it. I want to have fun. I never have fun. I'm boring and I'm a prude."

"Well you've had enough fun for one night," Tristan said as he got out of the car and then went over to help her out. "In fact, I think you've over-indulged."

"I think you need to have fun too, Tristan," she stated matter-of-factly. He undid her seatbelt and helped her out of the car, his arms around her waist. Giggling, she threw her arms around his neck. "Carry me."

"No," he said with a small smile and tugged her towards the elevator. She stumbled there but somehow, they managed. "You can't do that."

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"Come home sloshed and then expect me to carry you." But Rory wasn't listening. Instead she was placing feather light kisses under his jaw line and making it increasingly difficult for him to move. "Rory, stop."

"Why?" she asked against his skin, her warm breath feeling wonderful. "This is fun."

"Rory," he managed to choke out, blood drumming in his ears. "Get a hold of yourself."

"Can't," she replied and tugged his earlobe between her teeth. "Got a hold of you."

When the elevator door pinged open, he was grateful to find an excuse to disengage her from his arms. Stepping inside, holding her firmly against him he pressed the button to the penthouse and then turned to her. "Rory, you're drunk. And you don't know what you're doing. So I'm going to take you to my apartment and put you in bed."

"Okay," she agreed and then before he knew what was happening, she was pressing her lips to his in a soft, sloppy kiss. For a minute, he lost all ability to think clearly as he kissed her back, loving the feeling of her in his arms. But the elevator door opened again to reveal the penthouse and she pulled away, giggling. "Will you be joining me?"

He slept on the couch that night. But it was what happened the next night that had changed their lives – and he wasn't sure if it was for the better.

He turned his head and glanced at the alarm clock on the side table. It was almost morning. He needed to sleep before Rory drove him out of his mind.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Rory's eyes fluttered opened and she blinked, adjusting to the sunlight. She rolled over and found herself face to face with Tristan, who was watching her with a twinge of amusement in his blue eyes. The events of the past few days came rushing back and she managed a small smile. "Hey."

"Hi," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she answered touching his face. "I dreamt of Grandpa."

"Yeah?"

She nodded and then grinned. "We were in Fez."

"Was it like you imagined?"

"Yes." She pushed back the hot lump that was forming in her throat. "I think he really wanted to go with me. God, I should've known…I should've - "

"You had no idea of knowing, Rory," Tristan soothed softly, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I'm sure Richard understood that life gets in the way of our dreams. He wanted you to have a great life, too."

Her smile was soft, sad. "I know. I just wish…"

Unbidden, the tears started again and she found herself burying her face in Tristan's neck, crying softly as he whispered soothing words in her ear, calming her down. "It's okay to miss him, Rory. And it's okay to want him back, too."

He always understood. And it still surprised her how well she knew him.

She pulled away from him and stared into his comforting, dazzling blue eyes. Those familiar eyes that she'd seen light up with different emotions – twinkling with mischief, dark with desire, pale and shimmering with sadness.

Without thinking, she kissed him.

In an instant, he was responding. His lips were soft and warm against her own as he pressed her back against the mattress. Her fingers tangled in his hair and hands were skimming up and down her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His tongue sought entrance into her mouth and she quickly obliged, moaning softly as he kissed her, comforted her with his lips and hands.

She knew that this was unhealthy. That inevitably they would manage to screw everything up without even meaning to do so but she couldn't help it. Tristan was always there when she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him and the comfort and pleasure that he offered without hesitation.

He tore his lips away, kissing the smooth column of her neck as his hands traveled down her body and reached the hem of nightgown. Lifting his head from her skin, his heady gaze locked with hers and in a heartbeat, she answered his unasked question by kissing him softly again.

Softly, teasingly, he pushed the fabric over her thighs and kissed her, hard and long until she was arching into him and whispering his name. "Tristan…"

Time melted away.