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**To understand this scene, you have to travel to my world where Rory and Tristan have just begun dating. Thank you.**


Tristan threaded his fingers through Rory's before snuggling deeper into his winter coat. The two of them walked briskly down the street.

Rory squeezed his hand reassuringly as they approached Luke's Cafe. "We're almost here."

"It's May...who in Connecticut ticked God off so much that He's giving us this horrible weather?" Tristan complained.

"I bet it's someone at Chilton," Rory supplied helpfully, pushing the door of the cafe open and letting Tristan walk in.

"Well, whoever it is, I'm going to find him and beat him down for ruining it for the rest of us."

Luke watched the two teenagers enter his store hand in hand...their noses cold and red, talking amicably...and his eyes narrowed. When they approached the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Two coffees please," Rory proclaimed, plucking her hat off her head with the hand not clasped in Tristan's.

Luke chose to ignore this request, instead focusing his attention on their interconnected fingers. Specifically, Tristan's thumb rubbing slow circles over the back of Rory's hand.

"Why are you touching her?" He glanced at Rory, "Why is he touching you?"

Rory coughed and looked away from Luke. She had tried to prepare Tristan for this. "Umm...Luke, this is Tristan."

"So?"

"So Tristan is, in a manner of speaking, sort of...my boyfriend."

Luke sent a sharp look in Tristan's direction, deliberately scrutinizing everything about him. "I don't like his shirt. He looks too pretentious."

Tristan leaned over and whispered in Rory's ear, "Does he realize I'm sitting right here?"

Rory nodded. She knew that if anything was going to happen between her and Tristan, he would have to meet her extended "family" in Stars Hollow. She felt bad for him, because her break-up with Dean made everyone in town turn even more protective of her than they already were. "Luke, Tristan goes to Chilton with me."

"No wonder he's pretentious."

"Luke!" She admonished.

Luke huffed angrily. "Why didn't I know about him?"

"It never came up in conversation?" She suggested.

"You're a funny girl. You take after your mother," the comment came out flat.

"Can we just get some coffee?" Rory asked, fairly exasperated with the whole conversation.

"Yeah, two coffees coming up," Luke began pouring the mugs. The fact that he was still watching Tristan from the corner of his eye didn't get past Rory but she let it go.

She tugged Tristan's arm and pulled him to a table. They sat down, their hands never leaving each other. She smiled at him. "So that wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't that bad," Tristan whispered loudly, "He hated me."

"Nahh, that's just his frosty exterior. I bet inside he's already planning a fishing trip for you two."

He shook his head in amazement. "He looked at me like I was going to leave your body in a ditch or something."

She laughed at that. "Don't fail me now, Tristan, we're just getting started. You haven't met Miss Patty yet."

"Who's Miss Patty?"

On cue, the door of the cafe opened as Miss Patty strolled in. "Did I just hear my name?"

Tristan looked amazed, and even Rory was a little shocked. "Miss Patty, how did you hear that? You weren't even inside."

Miss Patty smiled and glided over to them wearing an incredibly outlandish dark purple dress and holding a giant feather. "Rory, honey, there is just something about hearing my name uttered by a man. The deep reverberations traveling past the tongue and moist lips...utterly sexual. I can feel it almost a mile away."

She took notice of Tristan then. "And speaking of a man...Rory, who is this tasty thing you're with? So young and yet so masculine." She trailed the feather she was holding down Tristan's jaw.

He coughed and wiped out the wisps of the feather that had gotten into his mouth.

Rory glanced nervously at Tristan and then back at Miss Patty. "Umm...this is Tristan."

Luke appeared then, plopping their coffee mugs in front of them. "He's Rory's new boyfriend."

Miss Patty seemed distressed by that. "Really? How was I unaware of this for so long?"

Luke's voice dripped with sarcasm, "It never came up in conversation."

"Rory, darling, matters of the heart are never, never to be kept from me. Especially when they involve someone like this divine blonde haired, blue eyed specimen."

Rory nodded to humor her. "I know. I'm sorry."

Miss Patty seemed satisfied by that. "Well, I'm just going to order. I have a dance class in 20 minutes."

She turned and guided Luke back to the counter.

When she was out of earshot, Rory said, "The worst is over."

"She was hitting on me!" Tristan hissed and Rory shrugged helplessly, "She hit on my grandpa too."

"How isn't that weird for you?"

"Because it's Miss Patty. That's just how she is, you're not supposed to take offense to it. She doesn't mean any harm," Rory explained.

Tristan simply shook his head and took a sip of coffee.

 

***

They were outside again, in the cold again, walking through Stars Hollow again, holding hands again. They walked past store after store not saying anything, but not uncomfortable.

They stumbled into Jackson in the middle of their trek.

"It's a 'strape,' he announced proudly, showing them something looking suspiciously like nothing Rory had ever seen.

"A...strape?" Rory said tentatively, taking it into her hand and looking at it from all angles. She held it up for Tristan to inspect also.

"It's a combination of a strawberry and a grape. A strape. Sookie's going to love it." He was absolutely giddy.

Tristan was still looking it over when he muttered, "Wow."

"Hey, who's he?" Jackson asked.

"This is Tristan. Tristan, this is Jackson, he sells produce to my mom at the Inn."

Tristan extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Jackson adjusted the ever-present cap on his head before returning the handshake. "Same here."

"We have to go. Tell Sookie I said hi," Rory said, as she and Tristan walked away.

They continued their walk a few minutes longer until arriving at Doose's Market. They were greeted by Mr. Doose himself.

He smiled at the two of them, but Rory knew he was sizing up this new intrusion on their little city. "So Rory, this must be Tristan."

Tristan was dumbstruck, but Rory took it all in stride. "That's right. Tristan, this is Mr. Doose."

"Uh, hi. Tristan DuGrey."

"Nice to meet you, Tristan. I'm the head of the Stars Hollow city council."

"Among other things," Rory whispered to her boyfriend.

Tristan nodded tersely and glanced over at Rory in confusion. She quickly aided him.

"Well, Mr. Doose, we have to get home. I'm cold and we have some homework to do. It was good to see you."

"Ahh, so he goes to school with you then?" Mr. Doose asked.

"He attends Chilton."

He nodded slowly, absorbing this new bit of information.

Rory took that opportunity to walk away.

"He knew me."

"Yeah, he did."

"How is that possible?"

Rory thought about that for a moment. "Jackson has a cell phone."

"Jackson? That guy we were just talking to five minutes ago?" He asked in shock.

"That's him. At least that's who I think told Mr. Doose. It could have been Miss Patty, but she doesn't have a cell phone, so she would have had to have gotten all the way back to the dance studio. Unless maybe she ran into Mr. Bartlet or Mr. Janney on the way."

"They're all insane."

Rory nodded. "You'll grow to love them."

***

Rory closed the door to her home and hung up her and Tristan's coats.

"So..."

"So that's them, huh?"

"Well most of them. You still haven't met Mrs. Kim, that will be exciting. She'll call you evil and damn you to hell for corrupting me."

Tristan nodded. "You know, it's just not a good day until I've been referred to as the anti-Christ at least once."

"So what did you think?" Rory asked.

"I think I want to sit down," he answered.

They walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. When they were situated, Rory asked again, "What did you think?"

"I think you're too far away," he answered, crawling across the couch, wrapping his arms around Rory's waist and pulling her to his side of the couch.

When her chin was resting against his chest, her legs were curled to fit between his and she was gazing up at him, she asked again, "What did you think?"

He watched her with a look of complete adoration, in silence for several seconds before touching the tip of her nose. "About what?" He asked slowly.

"About us, Stars Hollow, all of it," Rory expanded.

"Luke makes a mean cup of coffee," he answered, laughing when Rory shoved his shoulder.

"No, really."

Tristan sighed and said, "Honestly? I think they're strange and quirky and like nothing I've ever seen."

"Tell me something I don't know," Rory answered.

"Well," he said. He began stroking her hair in a way that caused her to smile faintly and made her eyes slip closed. "No matter how insane they get, I'm not going anywhere."

"No?" She said softly, snuggling closer to him, pulling her legs in tighter and wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Not much can scare me. Not even old scary women who hit on me. Know why?"

"Hmmm?"

"Because you're pretty."

She giggled. "Thanks Superficial Sammy."

"And you're smart. And you smell good."

"I smell good?" Rory asked curiously.

"Very Rory-like."

She rubbed her nose against his chest. "Ahhh..."

"Are you going to fall asleep on me?" Tristan asked.

"I don't know, are you going to keep stroking my hair like that?" Rory shot back.

"Like it?"

"If I ever need help getting to sleep, I'll will definitely call you to do this. Mmmm..." The last part came out in a purr.

He chuckled before twirling a piece of her hair around his finger and letting it unwind. He moved all her hair gently away from her neck. His fingertips brushed the skin there, causing her to shudder.

"Did that tickle?" He asked.

She nodded and he ran his finger across the spot again, making her jump and groan in protest.

"You're a jerk, I was comfortable," she grunted.

"Should I allow the fact that you were comfortable in my arms go to my head?" Tristan asked.

"It has nothing to do with you personally. I would be comfortable if anyone was letting me lie against their chest while they played with my hair."

"Anyone, huh? Come here..." He grabbed at her, attempting to pull her back to him while she half-heartedly resisted.

"I'll go find my comfort elsewhere, Ego-Man," she snipped, pretending to get off the couch.

On cue, Tristan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down on top of him. He kissed her temple gently and sighed.

"No more arguing. You're staying right here."

He felt her body relax into his touch and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Well, if you insist."

"Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't get too attached to the position you're in," he told her.

"Why's that?"

"Because in about five seconds I have every intention of kissing you."

"Thank you for the warning," she answered, already getting light-headed at the idea.

There was silence for a moment. Rory finally asked, "Now?"

Tristan shook his head. "Not yet."

More silence. "Now?"

"Not yet."

Even more silence. "Okay, please now."

"Since you asked so nicely." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, each of her eyelids, the tip of her nose and finally, her lips.

 

I Steal From Good TV Shows

Rory readjusted her ponytail in her mirror until it was perfectly centered. She took one last look at her clothes: faded blue jeans and t-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Smart girl' across the chest. Lane had given that shirt to her for her birthday.

She bounded out of her bedroom door and into the kitchen where she was met by her mother holding out a cup of coffee to her.

"Wow, I still can't believe Jack Nicholson is letting you guys wear normal clothes for these extra credit summer courses."

Rory tilted her head a little to study Lorelai. "Jack Nicholson, psychotic, axe-wielding guy in The Shining?"

"That's good. But I was thinking, Jack Nicholson, obsessive-compulsive cradle-robber in As Good As It Gets," Lorelai clarified.

Rory nodded, "Yeah, that makes more sense. Except..."

"Who's Helen Hunt. I know, I didn't really think the comparison all the way through."

Rory nodded and began toasting a package of Pop-tarts. She let out a good, long yawn then and stretched her arms over her head. "My body's conditioned to be asleep in June at this hour."

"I'm sorry, babe," sympathized Lorelai, "I agree that summer school at 7:30 in the morning is both cruel and usual punishment. I told you that you didn't have to sign up."

"This will look good on my transcripts. Besides, I did only sign up for Debate. I just have to make sure I can argue well because I'll be taking that class next year, and I have to be ready for it. I heard it's really hard," Rory took a bite of her Pop-tart and tossed the other one to her mother.

Lorelai feigned shock and Rory's words. "A class hard at Chilton? Well I'll be..."

Her daughter rolled her eyes playfully, "Yeah, yeah."

"Go on honey, you're going to miss your bus."

Rory nodded and went on her tip-toes to kiss her mother's cheek. "See you later."

"Bye, learn something."

 

***

Rory shifted her backpack to her other shoulder, walked into the air conditioned halls of Chilton and sighed heavily. She thought she had broken free of that place for three luxurious months, but there she was going back again--volunteerily.

The Debate course she was taking was taught by Mr. Redlick in room 108. He was going to be her teacher of that same class next year, so Rory wanted to get a feel for what he was like while she could.

When she arrived at the right classroom, her attempt to walk in it was thwarted when a broad shouldered young man blocked her path.

"Tristan," she spat out venomously.

"Ahh Mary, couldn't go the summer without seeing me, could you?"

"Oh God, are you in this class too?" She asked, already knowing the answer, because that was just her luck.

"Have to check out Redlick before class next year," he answered.

Rory's head shot up as her words were echoed back at her. "Well, why don't you go do that then?"

He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. This made Rory notice the royal blue t-shirt and corresponding sporty gray vest he was wearing.

She moved her eyes up past his crossed arms and up to the hollow of his throat, accentuated by his white puka bead choker. When she finally made it back to his proud, confident eyes, he was watching her watch him with great interest.

"God Mary, how do you not collapse from all the sexual tension brewing between us?" He questioned.

"By not being delusional?" She supplied sarcastically.

Rory pushed past him and into the room with one swift motion, though she got the distinct impression that if he didn't want her in there, she wouldn't have gotten through.

She walked through the room and noted the 6 other people in there with her. She had had some classes with some of them her sophomore year, but there really wasn't anyone there she actually talked to.

She smiled slightly at Mr. Redlick, a middle-aged man with short brown hair and warm green eyes. He didn't seem that bad.

Walking down one of the aisles, she sat in the fourth seat back in the third row. When Tristan entered, he sat in the fourth seat back in the second row. Right next her.

She shot him a dirty look which he shook off easily and returned with an innocent smile.

Rory rolled her eyes and occupied herself with taking a notebook and pen out of her backpack.

In the front, Mr. Redlick took a look at his watch and stood up at his desk. "Well, since there are eight of you here and eight on my list, I'm going to take that to mean we're all here and I don't have to take attendance. Instead, let's get started."

He clapped his hands together. "We'll start easy enough. Two people will come up here. I'll give them a topic, one will be the pro and one will be the con. They'll each have thirty seconds to give their side of the argument. Then I'll decide who's won. Okay?"

Eight heads nodded simultaneously.

"All right then, in order to get this story moving on to its inevitable conclusion, why don't we have you two in the back come up here?" Mr. Redlick asked, oddly mimicking the Author's exact thoughts, "What are your names?"

Rory grimaced and glowered at Tristan. "Lorelai Gilmore."

"Tristan DuGrey, sir."

Mr. Redlick nodded, "Ah, DuGrey, of course. Come up here, both of you."

Rory and Tristan both trudged up to the front of the classroom.

"Now, each of you stand by one of the podiums...that's good."

Rory took her place at the podium to the left of Tristan and farthest from the desk. She was nervous.

"Your topic will be..." he stopped to look at his notecards, "...handgun control laws. Now, Lorelai, you will be our pro...you'll be in favor of the law. Tristan, you'll take the con, against the law. I'll give you 30 seconds to prepare your thoughts, then Mr. DuGrey, you can start."

Rory could hear the time ticking slowly away as she struggled to remember any fact about guns that she could. What seemed like a second later, Tristan began to speak:

The first rule of good debating, be concise: "Making a gun control law is, quite simply, unconstitutional. The right to bare arms is given to us by the Framers in second amendment of the Constitution, it's right there in the Bill of Rights. To stifle that right would be like saying we couldn't...burn flags in protest, or we don't have the right to a speedy trial or a competent lawyer, or that we can be forced to give incriminating testimony against ourselves."

The second rule, show consequences of action: "If we begin with the passage of this law, then it is going to be held as precedence the next time some schmuck in the House of Representatives decides that police officers should be able to search our homes without just cause. It's ridiculous." He ended his argument with his fist pounding on the podium in front of him.

Rory gulped. He made a good point. She didn't know if she could top that. She braced herself against the podium and waited for Mr. Redlick to nod his head at her before she began:

"My opponent has made an excellent point about the constitutionality of this law, a subject which has been argued for years. However..." the first rule of good counter-argumenting, state the opposing position and promptly disprove it: "...what he, and many others, conveniently forget to mention, is that in the second amendment which they hold so dear, the Framers said we have the right to bare arms in a 'well-regulated militia.'" The second rule, a repetition of important phrases, "...A 'well regulated militia.' THAT'S right there in the Bill of Rights."

Third rule, give facts: "Furthermore, if you combine the populations of Great Britain, France, Germany, Japan, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark and Australia...it equals about the same amount of people as are living in the United States. Last year, they had 112 gun deaths. We had 32,000. 32,000!" see rule #2. "Do you think it's because Americans are more homicidal by nature? Or do you think it's because those guys have gun control laws?"** Rule number 4, end with something to make the listeners think.

Rory ended her diatribe and took a step back. The whole room was silent and Tristan was giving her a look mixed somewhere between incredulousness and amusement.

"Well," Mr. Redlick said after a moment, "I think we can all safely say that round went to Ms. Gilmore."

Several people in the class nodded, Tristan included, his eyes still wide. Rory smiled and looked down shyly at her feet.

***

When class had ended, it was somewhere near ten in the morning, and Tristan caught up with Rory as she was leaving the building.

"Maaary..."

"What do you want?" She groaned.

He ran out in front of her so she couldn't keep walking. "I just wanted to tell you I was impressed today."

A beat. "What?"

He grinned at her confusion. "Yeah, I know, I don't say that often."

"I really would have used the word 'ever,'" Rory corrected.

"Okay, fine. I don't say that ever. But you made a great argument. How did you know that stuff about all of those countries?" He asked, genuinely interested.

"I...uhhh...actually saw it on Capital Beat yesterday," she admitted sheepishly.

"It was still impressive," he insisted.

"Wow, the adjective form. You're really going all out, aren't you?" She teased lightly.

"Only for you."

Rory's eyes widened and she coughed a little to relieve the sudden nervousness she was feeling.

"I think I have to go now."

"Do you want to get some coffee?" Tristan asked suddenly.

"Coffee?" Rory repeated, unable to believe he was asking her to go somewhere with him in a relatively civilized manner.

"You do drink coffee, right?" He questioned.

She smiled at the irony. "Occasionally."

"Would you like this to be one of those occasions then?"

She cleared her throat again. "Listen, I have to..."

"Go. I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Rory."

She was momentarily stunned by the soft way he said her name. "Bye."

Tristan watched her walk away and desperately reached for something, anything to say. Finally, he yelled at her back, "Hemingway was a horrible author."

She stilled and then slowly pivoted around. "Excuse me?"

He smiled. "I mean, come on. Most of his sentences are three words long. Subject, verb, predicate, period. He wrote the bare minimum and he's construed as some big genius."

She took a few menacing steps forward. "Have you ever read "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" or "The Short, Happy Life of Francis Macomber"? Those were two of the greatest short stories ever written. He writes in skeleton form to leave the writing ambiguous. It's intentional."

"Who wants to read something they don't understand by the end?" He countered.

"Who wants to read something that has all the answers delivered to them on a silver plater?"

"I'm just saying, he seems to over-simplify everything," he responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"OVER-SIMPLIFYING!" Her voice rose considerably, "Where's your car?"

"This way," he led her to where his Benz was parked in the lot.

She followed him while she continued to yell. "He was trying a new style of writing. Seeing how little information he could give the audience while letting them still understand the piece as a whole."

Tristan pressed the button on his keychain to automatically unlock the doors. He held open her door for her, and she got in.

"Jack Kerouac, now there's a good author."

"Oh please! Close the door and get in so I can yell at you," she demanded.

He obliged, and as he walked around to his side of the car, he played with his keys and whistled lightly. Rory Gilmore may not LIKE confrontations, but she certainly responded best to them.

He got in the car and started the ignition.

"Where are we going?" Rory asked.

"There's a place a few blocks down," he answered.

"Fine," she shifted so she was facing him, "but come on...Kerouac?"

"Too beatnik for you? This coming from the girl who reads Franz Kafka for fun."

She abruptly changed the subject. "What music do you like?"

"Music?"

"Yes. I'll assume with this thousand dollar stereo system you have in here that you listen to music," Rory shot back.

"I don't know...Green Day."

"GREEN..." she stopped mid-sentence, having been immediately ready to argue.

Tristan gave her a sideways glance. "Yeah?"

"They're actually pretty good," she admitted.

Tristan widened his eyes comically and placed a hand on his heart. "Rory Gilmore agreeing with me? I never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up please. You probably don't even like Uncle Cracker."

"Who?"

"See?"

"Yes, but for a short moment...we agreed on something."

"A very short moment."

"You'll learn to like me yet, Rory Gilmore. That I can promise you," he swore.

"Fat chance."

"Are you attacted to me now?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Does the Pope pee in the woods?" She replied.

A long pause, then Tristan said laughingly, "What?"

"Sorry, that's just something my mom says."

"Okay."

They continued driving for a few moments in silence past a grove of trees. Tristan took that moment to exclaim, "Look at that!" He pointed at the trees.

Rory moved to see out his window to where he was pointing. "What? Where?"

"There in the trees!"

"A deer?" She guessed.

"No, it's the Pope. And...oh my gosh...he's...peeing. Isn't that coincid..." he laughed as Rory shoved his shoulder lightly, "en.." another shove and more laughing, "tal?"

"Just watch the road."

***