Category: Gilmore girls
Title: Take Care of Yourself, Mary
Date Started: May 28, 2004.
Author: carleymarie
Rating: P.G.-13
Pairing: Trory
Disclaimer: If I were writing this show at age sixteen you'd know. I'm sure you don't, so neither do I. I don't own cherry Blistex that I mention either.
Reviews: Always pleasant, but I'm not going to hold chapters hostage because you're not reviewing. Thanks to last chapters reviewers: i Lissygurl, Dee, sooty7sweep, rosie4299, smile1, robin2, troryaddict23, kay, amanda, meagan, gilmoregirlsaddict, and one anonymous reviewer. Also thanks to those who plowed through the unformatted copy of this chapter.
Author's Note: It's been a while. It's summer. My brain is rarely turned on. I'm not home a lot. I go hang out with friends. You get the idea.
SORRY ABOUT THE FORMAT OF THIS CHAPTER WHEN I PREVIOUSLY POSTED.
Chapter Two: Denial and Pretty Sticks
Rory and Paris are sitting in their dorm room after their night with Tristin and Vaughn. Both Rory and Paris are quietly reading. Actually Paris is reading and Rory is having a mental sparring match with herself.
RORY: Oh just shut up already!
PARIS: Uh Rory . . . I haven't said anything for the past forty minutes we've been sitting here. In fact, we didn't say anything on the car ride home either.
RORY: I just wasn't feeling that talkative.
PARIS: Yeah, until your little outburst a minute ago.
RORY: I'd hardly call it an outburst. I wasn't yelling at you. I didn't go off on a tangent. I really don't have anything to be mad at actually. My world is great, sun shines and freaking lollipops.
PARIS: Yeah, Rory you're right. That was more like an outburst.
Rory sat, slack jawed. She began to open her mouth to send out a comeback, but Paris continued . . .
PARIS: Wait, don't start talking, I'm not done yet. I think we both know what you're mad about. I'm not one big on games or mind bogglers, but here is one: his name starts with a 'T' and ends with an 'N'. Guess who?
RORY: You're funny Paris. Why don't you drop out of Yale, and pursue a career in comedy? You have miles on everyone else. AND, I'm not mad about Tristin. Why should I be?
PARIS: Ooh, let me try for this one. Hm . . . wait, maybe I should think about this one. Get some books, do a little research, take some poles. I can spell it out in big dumb letters for you. "Tristin likes Rory, and Rory likes Tristin. Paris had to go bye-bye from a dumb boy named Vaughn. Rory mad at Paris because Rory's date with Tristin ruined."
RORY: She's patronizing me, how lovely. I don't like Tristin.
PARIS: Cleopatra . . .
Rory interrupted Paris by saying:
RORY: ...Queen of Denile. It's old, and I'm not in denial. I'm not going through seven stages here, or anything else. To be completely frank, if I don't see Tristin again, that's fine with me.
PARIS: You're doing that flared nostril thing that you do when you lie. I swear you could shove watermelons up your nose.
RORY: Think what you want.
Rory shuts off her light and throws her comforter over her face.
RORY: I'm going to bed.
PARIS: So you can dream of Tristin.
RORY: Ugh!
NEXT MORNING
Rory's POV
The next morning I wake up and see a note on my side table left by Paris. It read: "Rory- Tristin is coming over at 10:00 a.m. He said something on the phone about wanting to take you out to make up or is that "make out" for the cut off "date" last night. I'm out for the day. - Paris
I look over at my clock and see that it is already nine-forty. "Oy with the poodles already! I have less than twenty minutes to get ready," I yell aloud to nobody in particular.
I go, take a quick shower, then blow dry my hair. I fumble to keep my towel wrapped around me as I find something to wear from my closet. I'm thinking that I need my mother, her advice, and ten pretty sticks to get ready in time. Remember your "first movie date" with Dean I think . .
Flashback
(Rory's bedroom. Rory is wearing a bathrobe and has clothes spread out all over the bed. Lorelai comes in.)
LORELAI: Hey. This is good. Add some cold cream and some curlers and let him know what he'll be coming home to every night.
RORY: This was supposed to be a simple night. Watch movies, eat junk, go to bed feeling sick. End of story. Now I'm supposed to look pretty and girly, which is completely impossible because I'm gross and I have nothing to wear.
LORELAI: Do you want some help?
RORY: No . . . yes.
LORELAI: OK. Uh . . . let's see. We'll do this and . . .
(Lorelai looks over the clothes for a minute.)
LORELAI: All right This says 'hello, I'm hip and cute but also relaxed since this is something I just threw on even though it looks fantastic on me.'
RORY: How'd you do that?
LORELAI: What?
RORY: I've been staring at that top for twenty minutes. It was just a top. You walked in and in three seconds, it's an outfit.
LORELAI: It comes from years of experiencing fashion brain freeze like the one you just had.
RORY: How do you do it?
LORELAI: What?
RORY: This whole guy thing. I mean I've watched you when you talk to a man. You have a comeback for everything, you make him laugh, you smile right --.
LORELAI: I smile right?
RORY: And then you do the little hair flip.
LORELAI: Oh, twirl. It's a hair twirl.
RORY: And then you walk away and he just stands there, amazed, like he can't believe what just happened.
LORELAI: That's because I just stole his wallet.
RORY: I'll never be able to do that. Trig, I can do. But boys and dating? Forget it. I'm a total spaz.
LORELAI: Listen, the talking part, you just get used to. The hair twirl I can teach you. And the leaving him amazed part -- with your brain and killer blue eyes I'm not worried. You'll do fine. Just give yourself a little time to get there.
RORY: Is half an hour enough?
LORELAI: Plenty. Come on. Dab on some lip gloss, clear but fruity. Maybe a little mascara. Wear your hair down and your attitude high.
RORY: You're like a crazy Elsa Klensch.
LORELAI: Oh, thank you! Come on now, hustle. We got a man coming over.
End of Flashback
"I'm hip and cute but also relaxed since this is something I just threw on even though it looks fantastic on me," I say quietly to myself as I shovel through all of my clothes. I finally pull out my dependable blue jeans, pink tank top, and pink flip flops to match. I quickly put them on, and run back to the bathroom. I add a little mascara, blush, and grab good-ole cherry Blistex so I can put it in my pocket when we go out.
I check the clock that reads nine fifty-six. Four minutes to spare I think to myself. I rush into the common room and sat down holding a book to make it look as if I had been sitting there for a long time.
I hear a knock at the door a couple of minutes later.
RORY: You're early. If you're going to be early, you can open the door yourself. Do a little manual labour.
I take a deep breath as I see the door open.
TRISTIN: Hey.
RORY: Hey.
He comes to sit next to me.
TRISTIN: I usually thought that being early on a date was a good thing. Then again I'm going out with Rory Gilmore. This is really going against convention.
RORY: Oh, this was a date?
TRISTIN: Well, yeah, I thought Paris told you. I mean we should do a little manual labour of our own.
He gave me one of those smirks and wiggled his eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner.
RORY: Same old Tristin.
TRISTIN: You wouldn't want me any other way.
RORY: No. No, I wouldn't.
TRISTIN: So shall we?
RORY: Shall we what?
TRISTIN: Go out on our date?
He looked at me as if I was crazy.
RORY: You mentioned this as a date like twenty times since you've gotten here.
He looked at me as if I didn't want to go out with him, which wasn't the case.
RORY: Say it one more time and we can go.
TRISTIN: Would you - Rory Gilmore, accompany me - Tristin DuGrey, on a date . . . right now?
I smiled and grabbed his out stretched hand.
RORY: I'd love to.
I stared at out intertwined hands as we walked out the door together.
This was going to be one heck of a day.
Author's Note: That's it. Another long chapter. Blows your mind, doesn't it? Again, I hate html coding. How about in the next chapter I leave it as one big block. It takes more dedication to read that way. Next chapter will be the date I figure, and we should see some enjoyable "manual labour" of their mouths, lol. Trory action. Next chapter. I promise.
'Till later,
Carley-Marie : )