❝ONE YEAR SHENANIGANS❞
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter thirty-five,
Gilmore Girls — Season Two

November 6th, 2001

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[ LUCY'S POV ]

     TODAY IS MINE AND TRISTAN'S ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY.

My dad dropped me off after giving me the talk— the talk lasted five minutes, and it was sort of embarrassing, but it needed to be said. Dad then proceeded to tell me repeatedly that if anything happens tonight that I need to be safe. Of course, I'll be safe if anything happens.

Nothing may come of tonight, or tonight will be the first of many more encounters similar.

Tristan's parents are away on some business trip, and his sister has her usual dance class tonight and then she'll be going to her grandfather's which means me and Tristan have the entire night to ourselves... It's an exciting yet terrifying thought, especially with how well things have going between us.

The second he opens the door to greet me, I can sense that there's something wrong. I can feel it from the way he barely kisses me, the way his eyes skim over me but he doesn't say anything, and the way he moves around the house in frustration. I just drop my bag at the door, and I follow after him.

He's in the kitchen, and I find that he is trying to cook dinner for the two of us. Sweet. However, cooking the dinner doesn't seem like the real problem. "Tristan," I say softly, my hand reaching out to touch his back.

He looks to me, and in one single second, he leans in and captures my lips in his. I forget that there's something bothering Tristan with the way his lips push and glide across mine.

His fingers touch my neck, bringing my face closer. He brushes her hair past my ear, giving me literal chills from how delicately his fingers touch my skin. My body finds itself pressed against the counter and I shift as Tristan pushes against my mouth with more force, with more power, and I'm honestly struggling to keep up as he starts to lean me back into the counter.

Tristan is devouring my mouth, and I try to match his pace. Honestly, I'm starting to think that he's kissing me to avoid talking about his feelings, but the second we stop, I want to know what's going on. But right now, it doesn't seem like we're stopping anytime soon.

I groan against his mouth as my hands come to take handfuls of his blonde hair all while Tristan presses himself against me on the counter, and his arm comes around my hips to bring me even closer.

I pull myself back from him to snatch some air before his lips find mine again, this time harder than before. He mumbles a quick, "Hold on," against my mouth as he grips my thighs and pulls me up off the floor, and my arms fall around his neck to hold on.

I just got here and this is happening. I'm not complaining obviously, but it seems like we're moving at a rapid pace, a pace I can't even keep up with. Tristan lifts me onto the kitchen counter where my legs take comfort around his waist. Tristan then drives forward, causing me to unintentionally moan against his mouth, louder than I expected.

The way he's kissing me makes me feel tense. I want this, of course I want this but something is bothering Tristan. His body is taut and rigid, and he seems on edge, especially when I reach a hand up to touch his face. His movements are sloppy and uncontrollable, and he's not said a word to me since I arrived.

Tristan then brings a hand up my shirt and everything in my head goes fuzzy, likely from how warm his hand is against my skin, and because he's trying to lift my shirt up and over my head which is something I hadn't expected from him yet.

"Tristan." I clear my throat, my hands pushing him back without even considering the consequences of pushing him away. I want to talk, not forget about it and kiss the problems away. I can tell something is bothering him.

He steps back, and he leans back against the counter across from me. I slip off the counter I sit on, and I move towards him in the hopes that'll he'll talk to me about what's going on. "Tristan, talk to me. Please."

I frown, and Tristan's body tenses when I touch his arm softly. "I can't..." He shakes his head that falls into his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't want to push you like that. I just..." He breathes heavy, and I squeeze his arm to assure him that he's done nothing wrong.

"Hey, it's okay." I step in front of him, and I cover my hands over his cheeks to lift his face up so he'll look at me. "Now, talk to me."

"I got suspended," he admits, and my eyes widen because I hadn't expected that. I thought he was doing better with school. I thought things were going smoothly. "For two days, but two days is still two days to my parents." He huffs out a laugh, and I frown again. "They said if I don't get my act together, they'll send me off to military school so I can learn from my mistakes."

My mouth falls agape, and my throat suddenly feels dry. "Military school?"

He nods. "I'm so sorry. I—"

"Stop apologising," I insist. "Now, talk to me. Why'd you get suspended?"

"Just a stupid prank we pulled on some teacher." Tristan pulling pranks on teachers sounds like something he'd do, but the pranks he usually pulls are innocent, and they don't ever result in suspension.

"We?" I question, unsure on who is involved in this with him.

"Me, Duncan and Bowman," he informs, and I sigh because of course there's more people involved. I've heard very little about Duncan and Bowman as Tristan only recently started being friends with them, but I don't exactly like them. "God, I'm an idiot. I need to be more careful."

I nod, humming in agreement because he's right. He can't be pulling pranks and acting up, not when he's graduating next year and hopefully going off to college.

I run a hand through his hair, and I smile sadly. "Do you need help?" I ask. "I know I don't go to a private school, but I can always help you catch up with work or..." I shrug my shoulders. "I can just be there. You should come by Stars Hollow and I can be there to help you."

His eyes lighten up at the suggestion, and I wish I had suggested it sooner. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but you need to start being serious now. Duncan and Bowman aren't a good influence on you, Tristan, and you know that," I say, and he nods. "But I can't tell you to stop being friends with them. I don't want you to, okay? But you really can't be getting into trouble, not when you're only a year away from graduating."

Tristan smiles sadly, and I frown because I don't want to spend our anniversary like this.

I shuffle forward, and I open my arms. Tristan instantly leans forward into my touch and he freezes in my arms, and I know that if he moves, he'll likely shatter into a million pieces in front of me. I hug him tightly, squeezing him softly to assure him that I'm here, that I'm not going anywhere. I wrap my arms around his neck while his hands hesitate to fall around my waist.

There's meaning behind this simple action, and the meaning behind all this is love. I love this boy that I'm holding, and I know that he loves me just as much. Every ounce of Tristan presses into every ounce of me, and I feels his muscles become loose as he puts all his weight into holding onto me just as tight. I'm his to hold, to cherish, and to love.

When I lean back, I run my thumbs across his cheeks softly, and he leans into my touch. I can see that something is still bothering him, and if I could kiss every single problem away, I would in a heartbeat. "Hey." I cup his face. "You can keep talking to me, you know?"

He sighs. "It's our anniversary."

"I know," I quip. "But I'm sure we'll have others, right?"

He smiles genuinely— and it's so beautiful— and I can't fight the smile forming on my face to. "We'll have many more, huh?"

"I'd like to think that we will," I say softly, wrapping my arms around his neck, and Tristan's arms cuddle around my waist, pulling me flush against him. "Don't you?"

"I like the idea very much," he replies quietly, and he's about to push his lips to mine but I stop him quickly. "What?"

"Talk to me," I beg. "Then you can kiss me."

He sighs, and I let my hands play with the ends of his hair at his neck. He lets out a low breath, and then he begins to speak, "I wanna just get away from here, you know? I want to go to college and study English— not business like my dad wants— and I want to live my life completely free of my parents. I want a life I can be proud of, not what my dad can be proud of. I'm just sick and tired of all this."

He lifts his eyes to mine, and I sigh quietly, nodding my head so he can carry on talking. "When I think about my future, I see myself at any college that isn't Princeton, and I see myself writing, doing what I love, and I see myself with..." He pauses, searching my eyes. "You."

The corner of my mouth lifts, and he smiles back at me. "You can have all those things, Tristan," I assure him. "You're your own person, and you are very capable of doing anything you want. You don't deserve to live in your dad's shadow, Tristan. You're so smart, and this suspension is just a fluke, okay? You can succeed in anything, I assure you, and I believe in you. I always believe in you."

"You really think I can do it?"

"You can go to any college you want, wherever you want," I tell him, and he looks like he believes me. "You can be anyone you want, especially a writer, Tristan. And I'm not going anywhere, okay, so you can picture your future with me because I definitely picture mine with you. I don't care how young we are. I feel like we're meant to be in some cringy way."

I laugh at how ridiculous I sound, and Tristan's face brightens. His cheeks turn a shade of red, and I brush the back of my hand against his cheek softly.

Tristan brings me forward again and my arms come to wrap around him in another crushing hug. Something about hugging Tristan feels safe, feels warm and feels right. I feel him let his body unfreeze, I feel his body let go and his muscles became loose. He's strong in the way he hugs me and I presses my lips against the side of his head.

I bring myself back, my hands holding his face. "Everything feels right with us, and I really don't want to screw this up because—"

"You aren't screwing anything up, Tristan."

"I wanted to make dinner for us," he sighs, and I smile wildly. "But now I think we should order it, right?" I nod, laughing softly. "Then we can watch a movie and then..." He pauses, and I let my head fill in the gap. I think I know what he means, and I hope he knows that I feel the exact same way. "And then whatever happens after, happens..."

I nod quickly. "Whatever happens, happens."

     We both know what we want, and we both want to take that next step, but we don't explicitly say it. It'll break the current moment we're trying to have right now.

     His lips capture mine in a kiss, and I smile against his mouth. "I..." His lips attach to mine again while Tristan reaches his hand up the back of my shirt, and my body shivers. "I love you," I tell him, and he grins against my mouth.

     He kisses my mouth again, and it's so gentle that I feel as if I can cry. His tongue touches mine tentatively. He presses me against the counter, and his arms cage me in with his biceps.

     He brings his lips back, and he dips his head down to give my throat the softest bites imaginable. I slide my hand onto his that grip the counter, and I squeeze his hand softly. Tristan is so sweet, so completely soft and gentle and perfect in his movements, and I sigh quietly.

     "I love you." I gasp when his mouth nips the skin of my neck. "I love you so much, Blue."

     We begin to kiss again, and he lifts my thigh up to wrap around his leg, bringing me closer to him. His mouth is wet, soft, delicious. The moment he stops, even to take a quick breath, I find myself tugging him back in because all I want is him. I want him now. Forever.

     Tristan brings his lips back quickly, sucking in a breath, and he stops me before I yank him back. "Luce, we gotta order food."

     I pout. "I'm not hungry," I insist.

     "I am, sweetheart." He pushes a kiss against the side of my head. "Now, I can't be my best, attractive self until I eat, Blue. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

     My mouth falls agape, and Tristan pushes his lips to mine quickly. "Fine. We'll eat."

     "Pizza? Chinese? Thai? Sushi? Indian?"

     "How about all?" I grin wickedly, and Tristan raises a brow, obviously confused and concerned.

     "I thought you weren't hungry."

     "Oh, I was just saying that. Feed me please," I beg, stepping away from him so I can rush to the phone. I'm about to order all kinds of crap, even if we don't eat the food. He can keep the leftovers for days, and then he can share with his sister.

Me and Tristan order Sushi, Chinese and Pizza, and we watch "Clueless" because— well, just because— and we're halfway through watching "Sister Act" when the doorbell rings with our Indian food.

We just finish the pizza, barely finish the Sushi, and we struggle to eat the Chinese. I eat one egg roll because calling it a night, and I help Tristan load all the food into the fridge that we didn't eat. He insists on me taking some home, and if I come home with all this, my dad will go mad.

     Once Tristan shuts the fridge, I step towards him and I reach my arms up to fall around his neck. "I got you something," I say. "To celebrate. I wasn't sure if we were doing gifts but—"

     "I got you something too," he interrupts.

     We move back to the sofa, and I retrieve his gift from my bag while he rushes upstairs to grab whatever he's bought me. I feel nervous, agitated but excited to see what he's bought me. I mean, my gift is next to nothing, but I think he'll like it.

    He walks back downstairs with a bouquet of flowers— white jasmines and blue hydrangeas— and a larger gift wrapped in blue wrapping paper. I grin when I see an enveloped tucked into the poorly tied bow, and I clutch my gift bag as I fear my gift is nothing compared to this.

     I haven't opened it, but I know he's one to be romantic and big, especially with gifts.

     His bracelet weighs heavy on my wrist as he steps towards me, and he sits alongside me. I cough awkwardly, and I push my gift into his hands. "Nervous?"

     "No," I squeak out, and Tristan laughs as he passes the bouquet and the beautiful wrapped gift.

     "Thank you," I say, lifting the flowers to my nose, and they obviously smell gorgeous. They're beautiful colours, and the blue flowers, like the wrapping paper, resemble the shade in my eyes. He really loves my eye colour.

     I peer over at him, and he's looking directly at me. "You wanna go first or should I?"

     I swallow the lump in my throat. "You."

     Tristan immediately opens the bag, and my heart sinks to the floor as he pulls out the letter I wrote him last night. I didn't sleep as I struggled to find the correct words, but I'm pretty damn proud of the letter. It's sweet, simple, and not too cutesy that he would throw up— not that he would— but I didn't want to be overly sweet.

     I watch him read the letter carefully, and I can see his eyes move side to side as he reads every word. I watch his face form a smile. I watch his cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red, and when he finishes reading, he looks to me and says, "I can see that you were trying not to be 'overly sweet'."

     He's mocking me. I laugh because he knows me so damn well, and I fall back against the sofa while I wait for him to pull out the gift.

     "Thank you for the letter," he adds on, and I offer him a smile. "It was beautiful."

He pulls out the gift that's unwrapped— stupid me— and I bite down on my bottom lip as he stares at it. I feel as if I should explain myself so I ramble like an idiot. "Uh, you said you wanted to be a writer and I thought you could use an idea notebook or..." I pause, catching my breath. "It's a notebook and there's pens and highlighters and—"

"Blue," he interrupts, silencing me.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "You're welcome."

I want him to pursue his dreams. I want him to be a writer, even if he doesn't think he can be, because he'd be a damn good one. He has a way with words, he always has, and he shouldn't just voice them, he should have the opportunity to write them down.

"If you come up with any ideas, let me know. I'd love to read anything you write," I say genuinely, because I want to know his mind works when he puts it onto paper.

"Seriously, thank you," he says, and I actually see his eyes flare in... excitement, determination. I think he'll use it. I think he wants to use it.

     "You have a brilliant mind, Tristan. I want you to believe in yourself, okay?" He nods, and I smile in satisfaction. "Whatever your big, beautiful mind thinks of, I want you to be able to write that down. You deserve to have your dreams come true, and if being a writer is your dream, you deserve to live that."

     He leans forward, and he pushes his lips upon mine softly. When he withdraws, I move closer and I bury myself next to him as he throws an arm over my shoulders as I hold onto his gift. I'm nervous, and I know he can see that, but I also know he's excited from the look on his face.

     I choose the safe option of reading his letter first, and of course, it's beautifully written. He really does have a way with words, and within the letter, he references my favourite songs, my favourite authors, and he finishes the letter with a simple, "I love you, Blue."

     I thank him, and I push a kiss against his mouth quickly.

     I peel the paper— afraid to rip it as it's so beautifully wrapped— and my eyes widen when I see the most perfect (and expensive) Polaroid Land Camera from the year 2000. I'm stunned, afraid that anything I say will not be enough. I don't even know how— Oh, my God.

     "Tristan, you—"

     "Before you get mad, okay, you're the one who said we didn't have any photos together." That's true, I did say that, but I didn't think he'd buy me a freaking camera. Actually, I should've known he'd do this. "With this, you can take all the pictures you want. With me, Addy, your dad— he might object—  but I thought it would be—"

     "My gift is crap compared to this. You—"

     "Hey, your gift is thoughtful, and I'm seriously grateful, you have no idea." I peer over at him, and I feel silly because my eyes are starting to feel heavy because nobody has ever done this for me. Nobody has ever been sweet enough to do this for me, to love me like this, and I can't believe how lucky I am. "Are you okay?"

     "You're perfect," is all I can say.

     Tristan pushes a kiss against my temple, and I lean into his touch. "I love you," he whispers. "Happy anniversary, Blue."

I look to Tristan, and something shifts in the air. I don't know what it is, but one second we're sitting on the sofa, and the next second my legs are around his waist and we're on his bed with our lips attached together. The gifts— while incredible— are left on the sofa, and are forgotten about as we delve into one another, gripping and holding onto each other like our lives depend on it.

Tristan lays upon me, and I'm suddenly feeling very warm, very tingly, and very ready for anything. I don't know where my brazen attitude came from or how I managed to reach this step, but I want to move forward. I reach my hands down to try and tug at his shirt so I can pull it over his head. He laughs, and he separates from me so he can pull it off smoothly.

     He then leans down again and his lips find mine. One hand slides underneath my shirt, tracing gentle movements across my stomach while his other hand pinches at my waist. His mouth seems to fit perfectly everywhere as my skin heats with every kiss. Silent pleas, whimpers and begs fall from my lips before I have time to register his next movements. He begins to press his mouth on my neck, sucking and nipping the flesh. Wow. This feeling is new, exciting, and I can't get enough.

     Tristan begins to toy with the hem of my shirt, and he looks up to me for silent confirmation. I inhale, his hand against the skin of my stomach. "Yeah," I breathe out, reaching my hands down to aid him in yanking my shirt up and over my head.

     He looks at me— really looks at me— and my cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of red. "You're beautiful, Blue." His head lowers and his lips start to move and trail down my body.

     My eyes begin to flutter shut as he travels his lips down my neck, across my collarbone, stomach and hips, leaving a trail of kisses in the wake of his descent. He rests his body against mine, holding me close enough to bring soft noises out of me. I open my eyes slightly to see him smile softly, taking this moment in.

     This is the best feeling in the world.

     Butterflies erupt in my stomach as he makes his way back up to my face, and he lays a kiss on my forehead, on my chin, then on my cheeks. His lips hover over mine as his brilliant brown eyes hold mine captive. His beautiful features take my breath away— literally— because he really is gorgeous.

     I place a hand on the back of his neck, and I pull him to me so I can press my lips against his. Another moan escapes from me, and I part my lips to allow him to access the deepest part of my being.

     My back arches involuntarily as I try to fight the feelings building rapidly inside me. Gasping for air, I surrender myself as his mouth dominates mine. Our lips fight a battle that I know I will never win. The spiced scent of his cologne overwhelms my senses, causing me to squirm and shiver under his touch.

     "Luce." I inhale at the sound of my name, and my arms fall around his neck. "We don't have to do this... I don't want to—"

     "I want to," I interrupt, and he lets out a sigh of relief. I've never wanted anything more in my life than this. "I really, really want to, Tristan, I promise, okay?"

     "Are you sure?"

     I hum in response, her head moving up and down. "I've never been more sure of anything," I assure him.

I love him. I really do, and I want this.

I want this, right? This is what I want, what I've been waiting for. I think.

He pushes his lips back to mine, and he bites down on my lip. The second he does, my body tenses— and I don't know why— but Tristan feels me go rigid under his hands. He lifts his head, and I look away, completely embarrassed that I've suddenly switched from being desperate for this to being all in my head.

Tristan sits up. "Luce?" I freeze, and I look away from him. "Hey, it's okay. Talk to me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, shutting my eyes in the hopes that I'll just disappear. "God, I'm sorry. I swear, I want this. I've thought about this, I have, but now that it's about to happen, I..."

Tristan places a hand against my arm. "You don't need to explain," he assures. He leans down and snatches my shirt off the ground, and he helps me pull it back over my head.

I sigh. I feel like I've disappointed him. "Tristan, I'm sorry. I—"

"Hey," he interrupts, silencing me. "If you ever feel uncomfortable, I want you to be able to tell me. It's okay, I promise. Thank you for telling me. I would've hated to push you into something you didn't want, Blue. It's okay."

I frown. "I really do want this. I thought I wanted this now." He reaches down to grab his own shirt, and then he snatches my hand in his. He moves us so we sit against the bed frame, and I lean my head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I say again.

"Stop apologising," he insists. "Its scary to take the next step, I know that, and I hope I didn't push you and—"

I shake my head. "Hey, you didn't push me."

He hums, satisfied with my response. "Good. And listen, I'm not going anywhere, okay? We don't ever have to take that next step if you aren't ready."

"I'll be ready one day," I assure. "I really, really want this with you. I want us to take that next step, I mean that."

He pushes a kiss against my head. "I know, and when you feel ready, talk to me, okay? I'd hate for you to feel uncomfortable again."

I sigh, burrowing my head into his arm. "Happy anniversary," I whisper softly, wrapping my arm around his.

I feel him push a kiss against the top of my head. "Happy one year, Blue." He reaches for my hand, holding it up and pushing a kiss against my knuckles. His finger traces my ring finger— the one reserved for my future wedding ring, and I see him smile. "Here's to many more," he adds on softly, and I smile warmly, my cheeks heating because I really hope we have many more. "I love you."

"I love you too." I really, really do.

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authors note:

our happy couple have made it to one year!! here's to thousands more, am i right? duh

i don't think this book will include smut... idk yet. i've wrote it in previous books but for this one i'm not so sure... it doesn't feel right to in this particular book.

either way, lucy ain't ready because neither am i :')

ALSO i'm kinda on a roll with updating heheh