Chapter Eight: Lorelei's Punishment, Rory's Delight.

"Do you think Luke's keeping his promise not to give Mom coffee?" Rory finally asked, her voice muffled by Tristan's shirt and her eyes drifting closed before she could stop them.

"Probably.  Somehow, I think he enjoys tormenting her."

"And you drew this conclusion from….?"

God, she was clueless!  "It just seems like they have that kind of relationship.  You wanna call her and check?" he already knew the answer and held the phone out to her.

"Uh huh," she giggled, bouncing to sit on her knees while she dialed the number.  Shaking his head, Tristan stood from the bed and went to give her a coffee refill.  Handing her the mug, he resumed his place next to her and watched a gleeful, evil smile take over her face.

"This damn well better be someone calling to say that the sky is falling, it plans on hitting my mom's place first, I alone will be left on Earth and that all the coffee in the world will therefore be bequeathed to me.  Otherwise, you'd better be calling to say that my horrible child died a slow, coffeeless death.  If neither of the above are your reason for calling, then get the hell off my phone!"

"Wow, you're cranky!"

"Score one for the stater of obvious facts!" Lorelei's arms threw up in the air as if her daughter could see her.

"So you haven't had any of Luke's life saving ambrosia?" The innocent voice was just too taunting!  Tristan rolled his eyes and smacked her knee.

"You horrible, HORRIBLE child!  I am going to have to sick Michel on you!  I'm going to have to forbid Sookie from giving you food!  I'm going to tell Mrs. Kim not to let-no, I'm tapped.  I can't be cruel to Lane."

"Good girl."

"WHY would you decide to torture your poor mother like this?"

"Poor Mother?!  You stole my coffee!  Luke had given me some to bring and you TOOK it!"

"What?  He never gives me any.  I was desperate.  I knew I'd need comfort food because I wouldn't have you around and I'd be sad and mopey-"

"Oh, give it a break," her daughter cut in mercilessly. "You committed a capital offense and are being punished for it.  There's no way I'm going to retract your punishment."

"Mean."

"Deserved."

"Why did I teach you to walk again?"

"Cause I was growing and you didn't want to carry me everywhere."

"And I taught you to talk because…?"

"Luke eventually closes and then you need someone to bicker with."

"Oh.  Right.  So how's Evil One?"

"Find out yourself.  Here."

Tristan took the phone being pressed against the side of his face.  "Hey, Lorelei."

"You didn't stop her from torturing me?"

"I think the correct response was 'Hey, Hot Tristan.  How's Paris?'."

"Hey, Hot Tristan., How the hell's Paris?"

"Paris is fabulous.  They have all kinds of mimes here."  He cut his eyes over to Rory.  She stopped mid-sip and watched him intently.

"Mimes?!  You said mimes!  Oooh, oooh, try making them talk.  If you light a match and get it close enough to their faces, they'll scream!"

Rory watched the way Tristan fell back onto the bed laughing and took the phone from him.  "What did you tell him?"

"To try to scare the mime into screaming.  Is he laughing?"

"Yes, he is.  Apparently he finds our vendetta against the stupid things funny."

"I take it you've come across one."

"Yes, I have."

"Ok, Child o' Mine, what did you do to make Mommy proud?"

"Tortured him.  Got chased out of the park by a cop for it, too!"

"I've trained you well!"

"That you have."

"So what are you guys doing?"

"Watching really stupid French stuff and talking to you."

"Hmm.  Sounds fun.  Well, Babe, sorry to bail and leave you to His Hotness, but Sookie and I are going to go see a movie and I've got to go now or I'll be late."

"What movie?"

"Don't know.  Her turn to pick."

"Ah, gotcha.  Good luck."

"Thanks.  Have fun."

"Bye."  Rory hung up and laid back down next to Tristan, her cheek pressing against his shoulder as she nestled in and got comfortable.  "Mmmm.  You're a good pillow."

"Glad I serve some purpose," he chuckled, reaching one hand to stroke her hair.  Feeling her muscles melt into him, he continued the motion and kissed her forehead.

"Yep.  Comfy pillow is your middle name."

"Sure it is, Kitten."  Flicking the volume back on, he let his eyes drift to the screen, wondering how he had ended up trapped by a guileless virgin from a small town.

"So you're a horrible child huh?" Tristan smiled at the tingles dancing up his spine when he felt her laugh.

"It was confirmed with a vengeance. I would not be surprised in the least if all of my slippers were chewed up when I got back."

 "Yeah, but the Terrorize A Mime campaign had to help somewhat."

"It will definitely lighten the load of the purgatory sentence I am facing."

"She does remember you are leaving for college in a few months right?"

"Don't even bring that up. It is a source of much frustration. She about ready to bag the Inn and go college so she can be my roommate."

"Why do I think you aren't kidding?"

 "Because you just had a very serious conversation with a grown woman about the best way to terrorize mimes."

 "True. Does the fire trick really work?"

 "Not as well as the peeing puppy trick."

"Dare I venture a guest?"

"It's pretty self explanatory if you ask me, but then again I wasn't schooled in the higher education system of the military."

"Ouch."

"Although I will say one thing for them, they make you into really good pillows."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

Fat was definitely not a word she would associate with Tristan. They apparently had him on a rigorous workout schedule because, where he had always been trim, now he was very well defined. The feel of the strong arm hugging her against his chest felt intimately familiar, which was surprising given the long history of hostility between the two of them. "If you are thinking I will fall into that trap you are wrong, cause I'll just tell you flat out yes, you're a little bit soft. You eat too many candy bars from your care packages?"

"No, no care packages. Well except for Grandfather and he never sent candy, he just sent news paper clippings and books."

She seemed to sober slightly. "I'm sorry. I assumed your enormous fan club would be sending weekly updates. If I had known then I would have-"

"What, taken pity on me?" The thought of Rory pitying him hurt. He didn't want her pity.  He wanted a thousand more intimate moments just like this one in a lifetime filled with passion. Tristan balked at himself mentally when he realized his thoughts sounded like a Hallmark card. Besides, Rory would never allow more than friendship, they had spoiled whatever was developing between them in the hallway earlier.

"I can never be accused of pitying you." She chuckled slightly at the thought, sighing as his fingers slipped through her hair gently. "But I would have at least kept you updated on the latest gossip at Chilton. There were some wild theories running around about you."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"You know, the standard bad boy rumors. Arson, grand theft, parole violations. You name it, you were guilty of it."

"And yet, you still had the nerve to speak to me at your grandmother's party, I'm honored that you would be kind enough to grace a felon with your company."

"Yeah well, you know how I feel about Hartford gossip. According to them mom has two more illegitimate children by the town troubadour and I lost my virginity in the back of a Buick with the Thompson's pool boy, Franklin."

"You didn't, did you?"

"No, it was a Chevy Chevette."  Tristan's eyes nearly popped out of his head, they were thrust open so far. He was sure his heart had stopped.

"Rory!" he exclaimed.

 "What?" She looked at him, her eyes the picture of innocence. She couldn't believe he was buying this but the look of absolute shock in his face was priceless. He didn't even want to touch the pain inside him knowing she was no longer pure, and that it was someone unworthy of her.

"A Chevette?"

 "What's wrong with a Chevette? It's not like he could afford a more expensive car."

"I figured you were more of a romantic than to have your first time in the back of a crappy car." He had planned on showering her with affections, surrounding her with moonlight, candles and flowers.

"What would you suggest, a hotel room in Paris?" She smirked ruthlessly. He just stared at her like a rat on a sinking ship watching the water rise around him.

"I walked right into that one didn't I?"

"I'm afraid so." She sighed and resumed her spot. Relief flowed through him and he sighed. "Face it Tris, you're transparent."

"I am not, I'm…"

"Mysterious, aloof and quite charming when you want to be," she supplied with a faint smirk.

"That's not what I was going to say." He frowned.

"Maybe not, but it was along the same lines."

"You aren't as smart as you think you are."

"I'm not as naïve as you think I am." She smiled and nuzzled deeper into his chest, enjoying his scent. "And you aren't the playboy everyone thinks you are."

He shrugged. "I always do what I want, when I want to." It was a weak response and he knew it, but the tiny fingers doodling meaningless patterns on his chest were very distracting.

"No you don't. You've had several chances to kiss me and I know you wanted to but you opted for civility. Not a quality I would have readily associated with you, was it fear perhaps? Are you scared of what might happen if you tried?" She smirked mercilessly as she looked up at him, enjoying the idea of taunting this massive male ego before her, unaware of the consequences of her actions.

"Is that a challenge?" He propped his head up closing the distance between the two of them, expecting her to cower away, feeling a thrill when she didn't back away from him.

Rory fought down the tiny flicker of fear at his nearness and weakly asked, "To challenge the mighty Tristan DuGrey?  I wouldn't dream-" her voice broke off as he nuzzled his cheek against her own and brushed a kiss across her skin.  "God, Tristan," she sighed, her arms feeling weaker with each heavy breath and threatening to drop her flat on her back.