Hey! I'm luce, and I've currently converted to GG fanfics, beforehand having some other weird obsession with digimon (hangs head in shame). but, I can handle a challenge, and when the WB threw tristan, I took the bait and here it is; the marvelous trory. not my story....just the idea,....but chances are, you'll like this! some fresh reading for the trory addicts, things heat up more in the chapters to come, let's just say sexual tension is infuriating, until someone breaks out. how, is the question. I can't wait to write on..... So, with no further ado, here it is. Like it, love it, hate it, but don't curse me......

luce

whenever i'm alone with you

you make me feel like

i'm me again

whenever i'm alone with you.....

you make, you make, me feel

like i'm clean again...

tori amos

love song

Tristan

Maybe that's why I'm in love with her, in love with the sensuous, curious curve of her lips, her sharp wit, the glare that ices over the huge, deep autumn blue pools in her eyes. Maybe I'm in love with the simplicity and stability of her, her pure, sweet schoolgirl look, the slim legs that awkwardly lounge out from under the modest plaid skirt.........she's fresh like the mist in the morning, quiet and beautiful like the inside of a marvelous cathedral, something that in a million years you could never desecrate.

Leave it to me, Tristan DuGrey to find a way to do that.

I hate the off-color comments that come out of my mouth when I see her, in response to the awkwardness she creates in me; I don't know what to say so I say the wrong thing. Instead of making her miserable, I want to make her tremble. I want to tell her why I call her Mary, not just cause she looks like a virgin.

Because I worship her. She's my Madonna.

I guess if I was a complete idiot I'd be lighting candles for Rory Gilmore. But seeing as I'm Tristan, the self made man and Prep school pimp, I have a level of self control. Anyone would have one after years of girls throwing themselves at you. And I'm not about to let her make me lose it. She can hurt me on the inside, but at least she can't take away my pride. And I think she knows it, and that's why I've never managed to even remotely approach her.

She makes me feel clean.

No one's ever done that for me before. Waking up in the morning on occasion, feeling someone's warm, un-showered body curling around me, turning to see another pair of meaningless eyes and dirty mouth smiling at me, I want to throw up. I hate the thing's I've done, or more correctly, the girls. Maybe I sound like a conceited jackass, but I'm speaking out of honesty, and that's the way it is. Sometimes I feel like I'm too disgusting for someone like Rory. But when she smiles at me genuinely every rare once in a while, I feel new and scared, like I've never felt before, shy and unsure and wanting........

Love is a curse word in my house. I don't believe I've ever even heard it spoken. Sure, I would love to bash your head in, yes honey, I love the way you criticize me, I'd love to come to your party tomorrow. That's the extent to which the word is used in our home. I know you can't blame everything on your parents, but I'd like to blame them for never teaching me how to use that word. Nothing else, just that.

"Mr. DuGrey!" the sharp voice echoed through the classroom.

My head snapped up in a second, and I groaned when I realized what was going on.

"You know the sermon, this is a warning. Daydream at home. Do you have the answer?" continued the teacher sourly.

"Uh...." I stalled, feeling a bit of nausea; Chilton teachers were not to be trifled with, they might report this to my parents......then......

"John Hancock...." came the almost invisible whisper, and my eyes shifted slightly to my left.

They encountered only Rory, who seemed lost in her own world, diligently taking notes. I sighed at the moment of hope that escaped me, when suddenly, I saw her lips imperceptibly move.

"John...Hancock...dumbass......" the whisper slid out, barely audible.

"John Hancock, ma'm" I answered, with my most charming smile.

Skeptically she eyed me, and turned back to the board to write something; relieved, I looked back at her, but she did not even seem to notice anything had happened.

"Thank you. Now, pairings for the projects you will do.........two weeks of research on a topic I assign."

I didn't even pay attention to the names she rattled off the lists; I drifted off after a while, until I heard the last fateful words.

"Tristan DuGrey,.......and.......Paris Geller...."

My neck snapped up so quick that I wondered if I'd sprained it; feverishly, I waited for a miracle.

And it came.

"Oh wait, Paris you're with .....Louise. I guess that leaves Rory with Tristan. Alright, a quick outline due tomorrow. Be prepared."

As the bell rang, I didn't move for a second, considering what was happening and turning it over in my mind. I felt a slow grin invade my face that I couldn't kill.

Unfortunately, the look on her face did.

In a flash, I reverted back to my old self, flashing her the sexiest look I had in the whole collection.

"Well helloooo Mary..... looks like we'll get a chance to do some hands on research...."

"If you still want to have hands when we're through, best keep them busy writing." was her bitter response, and the misery in her eyes was too apparent.

"You know you want me. That's why you gave me the answer....now...can I reward you for your help? A very personal favor maybe?" I smirked at her, and clearly understanding, she stood half angry half blushed.

"Yes you can," she smiled at me, and for a second I was stunned.

"You can drop off the face of the earth." she spat, and marched out the door.

My cocky grin faded slowly, replaced by determination.

You have no right to trample on me, to break me down, I cried out silently, twisting my lips in a brilliant smile that made Louise who caught my eye smile back with a definitive bedroom smile.

"Going my way, soldier?" she whispered as she passed.

"Nope, not even getting on that train," I laughed in her face and walked out.

I'd rather have Rory make me cry than let Louise touch me.

Rory

"Of all of God's creations, the coffee bean is most decidedly the most marvelous," I declared to a slightly smiling Luke as he poured generously.

"What about man?" he asked gruffly, putting the pot back in place.

Thinking of Tristan, I wanted to let out a wail of anger.

"That was purely Satan's idea. No wonder he got kicked out of heaven."

"That bad, huh." chuckled Luke, as the doorbell rang and I was greeted by a jittery mom.

"Luke, pour me some! Now!"

"Nope. You're quitting, cold turkey."

"Don't trifle with me Luke!" growled my mother, nearly jumping up on the counter. "I haven't had any since morning...I know,..it's horrible but I didn't get coffee break, not even lunch..so busy...pleeeeease.."

"Nope."

Eyes gleaming, she turned to me.

"Ok Rory, here's the plan. I hold him back and you make a dash for the coffee pot. Ready? Set."

"I'm pretty content over here, I don't know if I have the energy," I said lazily, sipping.

Snatching my coffee out of my hands, my mom took a long drag, wiped her mouth, her whole body relaxing as though she'd just shot up.

"Aaahhhh...."

Luke laughed, and poured her a generous cup.

"So, what's going on?" she asked, settling back on her stool.

"The sky is falling, judgment day is coming, the world's coffee harvests have all perished and I have to work with the Evil one on a two week assignment."

"Hmmm...." she tilted her head to one side, considering my words. "Sounds bad, two weeks? Do you think you can handle it without kissing him?"

"Mom!" I hissed through clenched teeth, turning red.

"What! You couldn't help doing it and I couldn't help teasing you. Hell, if it wasn't illegal I'd go for it. Sadly though, I can't take him across state lines......but he's so yummy...."

"No he's not. He's evil, disgusting, oversexed, evil...did I mention evil?" I moaned, burying my head in my hands..

"And he's only human, nothing the fabulous Rory Gilmore couldn't handle. Look, you can have him whipped into shape in no time. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need help taming his wild, charming, irresistible-"

"MOM!"

"Alright," she huffed. "Do it by yourself. But don't come complaining."

Waving goodbye to Luke, we drove home as we discussed the day.

But alone in my room later, I stared at the ceiling as I wondered about the whole situation.

My relationship with Dean was alright, I guess.....well, more like floundering.....

Chilton was a cold place. And having one more friend wouldn't hurt. The fact that Tristan didn't seem to be looking for friendship exactly intruded in on my thoughts again, and sat there. So sighing, I took it into consideration. Of course there was always the allure of the unknown, the thought that maybe, just maybe....

Can I deny it?

It was good. Not as in just the mechanics, although that's what makes a kiss. It was the light feeling that beat it's struggling wings against the hollow of my ribcage; the hesitant and unsure softness and urgency of his lips, the slowly rising feeling from my fingertips and up, chilling me and warming me all at once. His mouth slowly sough from mine, not conquered, and for a moment of surprise I felt as though he wasn't taking from me, he was giving. Which made no sense.....considering Tristan......

Sad. That's what his name meant. And sometimes the clear, shimmering blue of those lazy, smirking, insolent eyes turned into a cool, troubled gray that shimmered with unspoken feelings; the moments left as quickly as they came, but nevertheless they'd been there.

So we kissed. In the midst of everything that was happening around us, in-between and all around the problems we just stood in a silent, peaceful circle and he brought down his face to mine, slowly, then, closer, so close I felt his breath as it passed through his barely open lips in a trembling heave, then, darkness, and his mouth on mine, barely damp, barely open, seeking response........

So I kissed him back, one tiny moment when my lips melted into his, searching, ......then....it was over.

The problem?

The fact that I can remember this all too well.

Frustrated, I shut my history book and leaned my head against the wall. I hate fighting with you Tristan.......I hate the fact I kissed you, because now I remember it too clearly, I hate your comments. I hate your look, your style, I hate the way you sleep with people that don't mean anything to you.

Or you did at least. I heard lately, you haven't sought much action. Wonder why.

You make me feel dirty or guilty just looking at you. The tousled hair, the bedroom eyes....the smirk, the handsome, chiseled, clean cut features, the way you make even the ridiculous uniform sexy when you roll up the sleeves and let the pants ride low, tails hanging out , the back of the shirt curving over the light musculature of your-

OK, I have got to be insane.

I brush my teeth and go to bed, but I don't go to sleep for a long time.

Tristan

I shake the water droplets out of my hair, climbing out of my indoor pool. I like swimming laps at night, it tires me out and then I go to sleep faster and I don't have to think about her. Too bad dreams don't work that way too. Under the blue lights, the water looks cool and sinister; it's quiet in the large room, the water reflecting strands of light onto the glass roof. Above me, I can see the stars.

I get to spend two weeks almost everyday with her. This is enough to maybe....no. I don't want to do that.

I just want to be her friend.

After months and months of torture, of constant rejection that I masked with contempt and shoved back in her face, I want to be her friend. Then, maybe one day when she trusts me, I can fall asleep close to her on accident.....we can talk until whenever, we'll wrestle and.. do homework together and do all that stuff that friends do. Than maybe......

Not that I've known. I've never had a female friend. Just....a friend.

Those words are a slap in the face in connection to Rory. But now....I see..that's how it's gonna have to be. Because I'm not getting anywhere on my good looks or charm.

Now that's a first.

Maybe we should record it in DuGrey history.

Chuckling to myself, I headed for the showers.