Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

A Long Author's Note:

Dear Reader,

This story started as Season 4 of my AU Lit fanfiction Adverse Events which basically revolves around the lives of Rory, Jess, Paris and Tristan as doctors. However, this particular story started as a sequel, but somehow strayed off the main road and into its own way, so it may well be a spin-off. It follows all the events that happened in the Adverse Events Trilogy AU, but is also somehow different because it starts with its own subplot and focuses mainly on Paris and Tristan's story. It features some Rory and Jess as well as some Lit moments, but it's honest to warn you that this is mainly a Paris/Tristan story. To everyone who is still reading and keeping up with this story and its characters - I hope you find as much inspiration into those future plot twists I have prepared for I did myself while thinking them over, because writing Paris and Tristan has become a major addiction. Here's the result - I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while creating this AU :)

PS: I had the impulse to write this season in two plans - THEN (happening immediately where Season 3 left off) and NOW (happening two years later). So, welcome to the future where the characters have moved two years further with their lives, meaning Jess and Rory have been married for two years now and their daughter is a two-year old toddler, Josh is eight years old and Aiden is a teenager. I hope the time skip will work okay, because there will be a lot of THEN flashbacks where we see how some certain events led to other events etc. ... Ready for another ride? Well, here it goes...

THEN

(Two Years Ago, the day after Jess and Rory's wedding)

Shadows were running long in the quiet afternoon.

Doctor Paris Geller made her way out of the Dragonfly Inn and stopped in the yard, letting the last mild rays of September sun warm her face.

'Are you stalking me, Dugray?' she asked without turning back to see who had approached her.

'Are you avoiding me, Geller?' Tristan's voice came behind her.

She shrugged, turning to face him. He was standing a couple of steps from her with his hands in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant. Trying nonchalance wasn't something that generally worked but he was as close to looking the part as it got.

'If by avoiding you mean attending our best friends' wedding as the maid of honor where you were the best man then yeah, sure, I've been desperately avoiding you.'

His lips moved into a half-hearted smile.

'You're not making this any easier are you?'

'When have I ever made anything any easier?' Paris shook her head, looking at him inquiringly. The corners of his mouth turned further up and his smile became more genuine. Then his face morphed into awkwardness.

'About that dance,' he took a breath and let it out slowly, 'I don't think Kirk meant anything by the song.'

Paris arched her brows expectantly.

Tristan's eyes narrowed.

'Why are you looking at me like that,' he asked cautiously.

'Oh, I'm just waiting to see if you have anything else stupid to say,' she shrugged.

Tristan blinked.

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Of course Kirk didn't mean anything by the song, it's never been about a dance or a song and it surely has never been about Kirk. You couldn't have tried to look less relieved, could you?' she asked, her voice quickly switching from bitter to exasperated. 'I mean, it's not like I didn't know how this was gonna end,' she smiled a bitter self-deprecating smile. 'It was like watching a train wreck - you and me, what a joke... But I guess I was just too mesmerized to look away. However,' she lifted her chin with typical Paris determination, 'it's not like you gave me false hope or anything so keep the sappy apologizing at bay if you would.'

He watched her intently, his hands in fists into his pockets, making two steps towards her as he listened to her rant.

'Anyway,' Paris let out a frustrated sigh, 'I would appreciate it if you didn't look so damn relieved it's finally over. It's insolent and it's annoying.'

Tristan stopped right before her, his eyes set on hers. He took his hands out of his pockets and put them on both of her sides.

Paris narrowed her eyes, looking down at his hands on her shoulders.

'If you think you're about to console me, I'm about to kick you so hard, you'll have to spend the rest of the week with a pack of ice between your legs trying to get your testicles back from your inguinal canal. You hear me, Dugray? I'm pissed not sad, and when I'm pissed, I'm extremely wicked and I can kick so hard that all that pride you take in your genitalia will flatten into a painful mush against your pelvis.'

He ignored her comment and the chance to pick at her constant concern about his balls and stepped closer, drawing her in for a hug.

'I love you, shortcake,' he said, pressing his lips against her hair.

'Oh,' Paris huffed, hitting his chest with both of her palms. 'You do now, don't you?'
She stepped out of his arms and started pacing, running both hands through her hair, lacing her palms against her forehead.

'Of course you would do that,' she scoffed. 'You would stall, you would run forever, you would swear you had not a single caveman cell in that golden jock body of yours and push and push me away, and then - just as I've finally accepted that I'll be denied all the manhandling goodness for life, you come and say something like that. Are you playing with me, Dugray?'

'No.'

'Are you making fun of me, because if you are I swear you will never be able to recollect your testicles from various parts of the world and if you ever eventually do manage to procreate, your grand-grandchildren will still suffer the limp.'

Tristan took a breath and stood straighter with his arms hanging by his side.

'I'm not making fun of you, Paris,' he said calmly.

'You're seriously acknowledging the fact that you are madly in love with me,' Paris narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

'Yes.'

'You're admitting to yourself and to the whole world that my soul excavation trip has hit a goldmine?'

'Yes.'

'And do you fancy telling me why, my dear friend, do you decide to profess your undying love for me?'

His mouth opened and then closed.

'Well?' Paris arched an eyebrow, folding both arms before her chest.

Tristan took a breath and looked to the side before he met her eyes again.

'Wait for me.'

'What?'

'Give me time to be everything I can be with you.'

While she imagined her look was incredulous, his was apprehensive, as if he were taking an enormous gamble. Tristan bit on his lower lip, keeping her look before standing taller and repeating,

'Wait for me.'

Paris blinked. Then blinked some more.

'I-' she swallowed, looking down and shaking her head once, her fervor down. 'I can't watch you with other women. I ... just can't.'

'I don't need other women, Paris,' Tristan smiled with what looked like relief. 'All I need is time.'

Paris folded her arms before her chest looking down, thinking. She thought about her own insecurities. About how her lack of bombshell potential had always made her self-conscious in his presence. How she always had felt the shadow of meeker women looming over her because they were easier to handle and she had always been high maintenance. And what he was asking from her. She was Paris Geller, dammit. If anyone could pull being Tristan Dugray's bestie until he figured out how to feel at ease with the amount of love he felt towards her despite his damaged childhood and the trauma his unfeeling mother had scarred him with, it was her.

'I hate how powerful your stupidity is,' she groaned. 'It's so powerful, it's contagious.'

She and Tristan Dugray. It was such a long shot. Such a long, long shot.

Paris lifted her chin, meeting Tristan's eyes square. If anyone wouldn't let their life be defined by what they aren't, it was her. She was no bombshell and she was not an agreeable person. She wasn't gonna spend the rest of her life regretting those.

She remembered an ICU room and the warmth of his hand against her as they pressed the respiratory support control down. She remembered how natural his words came out then.

'When you're ready.'

Because all one could hope for was to end with the right regrets. And for some twisted reason she wanted to be all of his what-if's.

NOW

(Present Time)

'What possessed you to take the boys to a sportswear outlet?'

'You see, I'm a Nike person. Since a very fragile age, Nike and me are like this,' Tristan clasped his hands together. 'And I needed the boys to serve as leverage.'

Paris rose a skeptical brow, folding her arms before her chest.

'Aiden is all Adidas,' Tristan explained, as if this was any explanation at all. 'I don't know how this happened,' he shook his head in exaggerated shock. 'Everything between us was going so well, and one day your own son, your own flesh and blood-'

'Huh,' Aiden huffed, rolling his eyes.

'He needed someone to slap the arms of handsy shop-assistants off. Like, I had to literally slap some hands off, given how eager they were to help him find the perfect fit. Next time you go buy yourself some pants, count me out of it. And since you'll be going without me, buy some pepper spray.'

Aiden went upstairs murmuring something about losing three hours of his life in a waste of energy and threatening eye stares.

Paris and Tristan watched him ascend the stairs, tilting their heads up. As soon as Aiden disappeared into Josh's room, Tristan turned towards Paris.

'See? It was urgent. I needed to intervene.'

'What's gotten into him?'

'No idea. Think his art project got turned down a couple of days before but anyway all he's doing these days is stay in his room and draw.'

'Tristan,' Paris put a palm over Tristan's shoulder, letting out a deep sigh. 'I think it's official.'

Tristan winced.

'He turned thirteen last month... Aiden has entered puberty,' Paris said somberly.

Tristan groaned.

'I've been dreading the day.'

'I'm sorry but you'll have to live with a teenager now.'

'Hey!' Tristan rose a point finger. 'I'm not the only one who's gonna suffer his irrational mood swings. If I'm gonna suffer, so are you.'

'You will handle him.'

'Like I handled him today. Sure.'

'Oh come on, you know he enjoyed it.'

'If by enjoy you mean grumbled all the time and threw angry looks at non-suspecting shop assistants, yeah, he enjoyed it immensely.'

'You're his dad, you know what's best for him even when he doesn't appreciate it.'

Tristan chuckled dryly.

'Yeah, I'm one of the best examples of fatherhood he's ever going to get.'

'You are.'

'Yeah. Okay.'

'You are.'

He blinked, seemingly amused by her growing fervor.

'Tell me, did you ever consider getting Aiden back?'

'Eh?.'

'Have you ever really considered not bothering to care for another man's child, sparing yourself the trouble and letting other people think about Aiden's future?'

Tristan's forehead furrowed in confusion.

'Why the hell would I do that?'

Paris shurgged.

'Because it's a burden that's potentially optional,' she reasoned.

'Ehm, I don't think I get where you're going with all that. It's about as optional as giving Josh for adoption.'

'Taking care for a kid takes a lot from you,' Paris insisted.

'Yeah. And gives you much more. Freely. It's the bargain of your life. Paris, what are you really trying to say? Are you elaborately mocking me?'

Did he constantly need to remind her he was too stupid for elaborate pranks?

'Doyle doesn't feel the need to be an everpresent father.'

Okay, so now Doyle was into this conversation too. Sure. Why not. The more, the merrier.

'It's different.'

'It's not, not really.'

'You're separated. Josh has you.'

'Doesn't mean he doesn't need a father though.'

'I'm all Aiden's got. And he's never given me trouble.'

'Yeah. Because you're a good father, Tristan,' Paris almost groaned, rolling her eyes at his stupidity. How come such a smug person turned all shy and modest when his fatherhood skills were being praised? She had no idea.

'Aiden's almost raising himself,' Tristan shrugged. 'See? I'm a very lazy father.'

'No you're not.'

Tristan let out a laugh.

'This conversation is growing suspiciously pro-me. I'm beginning to smell setup.'

'You're so oblivious, Dugray,' Paris sighed. 'Tell me one thing. Why did you go to work in a refugee camp in Turkey?'

He shrugged.

'I don't know, because world domination was the next best thing and it seemed like too much hard work to handle?'

Paris rose an eyebrow.

Tristan sighed with a weary smirk.

'I was offered the job, I took it. It wasn't a big deal.'

'It must have hardly been the first job you were offered. Yet, you got this one. Why?'

He rubbed his jaw with his thumb and forefinger.

'I... guess I saw it as a chance to free myself.'

'And you did this going into a dangerous and messy place to help people who might consciously or unconsciously harm you. Once you were done with your job, you came back bringing a boy you saved to bring up as your own son.'

'You make it sound like I'm some fucking war hero,' Tristan shook his head with a laugh.

'No. You're not a war hero. You're just a good man and a very good father, that's what you are. So can you finally admit to being great and accept that you deserve to be appreciated for it?'

'Are we talking some free personal appreciation? Because I'd like to let you appreciate me all night long and more, if you feel so inclined.'

'All you do is talk,' Paris shook her head with a laugh.

'Go out with me,' Tristan said, his eyes suddenly serious, his face apprehensive.

'What?.'

He licked a lip and took a breath, bracing himself.

'Go out with me,' he repeated.

'Like go out on the balcony?'

'Like go out on a date.'

'Are you crazy?'

'I don't care. Go out with me.'

'You just decided this now?'

'Actually, I've been thinking about it for the last three years but I feel like it's high time I did something about it.'

'Are you pranking me right now?' Paris looked around, growingly suspicious.

'I would never joke about something like that with you,' he said quietly and somehow she believed him.

Paris opened her mouth and then closed it. Seeing her confusion, Tristan made a step forward, flexing and unflexing his fists.

'You said when I'm ready,' he said. 'I'm ready.'

TBC