Title: Fixed Determinence

Chapter 10: You Ain't the First

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: #1: You're about to get schooled in music history, but as you'll see I couldn't help myself. #2:Please note that the rating has been changed.

You Ain't the First

It was getting late. The stars blanketed the sky in Manchester above the couple who strolled down the side walk hand in hand.

"That was really nice of you to play Candy Land with Louisa and Marietta. They must really like you to make you play board games with them," Tristan told Rory.

"Yeah well, I've had quite a bit of practice, being a big sister and all. Besides, they're really sweet girls. They're fun to play with."

"They are," Tristan agreed. "I'm not sure how my brother got so lucky with nice little girls. Karma says he should have a couple of rough neck wild boys who drive him crazy all day."

"Maybe that's your fate," Rory said with a smirk.

"God, I hope not," Tristan said with a shutter. "My grandparents enjoyed your company as well tonight."

"Well the feeling is mutual; they were so nice to me."

"They're just overjoyed that I finally brought someone around for them to meet. The fact that you're you probably made them ecstatic."

"Make me blush why don't you?" Rory said with a smile. "It's too bad your dad couldn't have come too."

"He was out of town. I'm sure he'll be crazy about you too when he does meet you."

"We can only hope. So are you ready for your twenty sixth birthday celebration? It's only two days away!"

"I guess so."

"Why don't you sound more excited?"

"It's just that, well, I'm going to be closer to thirty than twenty."

"Oh please, I'll be twenty six in October too. We're still totally young. Plus, you've accomplished so much already. Just think of all you'll have by the time you're thirty," Rory reasoned. Tristan gave her a thoughtful look, his piercing blue eyes bore into hers. Rory blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

"I'm sure you're right. So what do you have planned for me?"

"Well, first we're going to go to dinner, my treat. Then, we're going to go to the symphony."

"The symphony?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "You don't have to write about it, do you?"

"No. It's just that you've been so great, taking me to the country club last week to see the fourth of July fireworks, I wanted to return the favor by doing something you'd like. It is your birthday after all."

"That it is. So whose symphony is it?

"Berlioz's," Rory answered.

"Symphonie Fantastique?"

"Yup. I've read that it ushered in the Romantic period."

"It did. You've been studying," Tristan observed with a grin.

"Yes I have," Rory stated proudly. "Anyway, after the concert I thought we'd go back to your place for cake."

"It sounds like you have everything planned out."

"Yes I do," Rory said as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. When they arrived at her door neither hesitated before embracing. Tristan's hands were at Rory's waist as hers wrapped around his neck. They kissed each other hungrily as he backed her against the door. His hands started to dip lower when the door abruptly disappeared. Rory fell to the floor and Tristan toppled beside her. He had to move quickly to avoid falling right on top of her. Both looked up, extremely disgruntled.

"Don't lurk outside doorways," Paris said sternly. "And get a room," she said as she stalked off. Rory made a face at the retreating figure.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked, rubbing his own side.

"Yeah, no harm done," she answered as he helped her up.

"I actually have to go," Tristan said gloomily.

"Already? Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately. I have to get up really early. I like to knock out a few hours of practice before the day gets started."

"A few hours? How early do you have to get up?"

"Around four."

"The morning one? I wasn't sure it even existed! I've always thought it was just a myth!"

"It does exist and it comes around pretty fast."

"This responsible Tristan is suddenly less attractive," Rory pouted.

"Tell me about it. I'm finding myself disgusting right now."

"Well," Rory said with a sigh, "I guess I will see you Tuesday night then."

"Yes you will," Tristan answered with a grin. He kissed her good night, careful to keep it chaste, and left the apartment. Rory sat down on the couch, her eyebrows furrowed. She picked up the phone from the coffee table and used the speed dial. Two rings later someone answered.

"Hey Mom, it's me. I have a favor to ask you."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE

"This is really delicious, you should have a bite," Rory told Tristan, who was sitting across the table. He reached over with his fork and ate a piece of chicken from Rory's plate.

"It's not bad. It's almost as good as my steak," he answered, leaning over with his fork again, this time with a piece of meat on it. Rory leaned forward to eat the food from his fork.

"That is good, aren't you glad I talked you into getting it?" she asked, wriggling her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, although I still think it was a bit over the top."

"Nothing is over the top today. It's your day. You should get the best."

"Well I won't argue then."

"Good. Now, I want you to tell me about this symphony. You're the professor, I want to hear about it from someone who knows what he's talking about."

"You're just feeding my ego now, it really is my day. But okay. Do you know anything about program music?'

"It's music that tells a story, right?"

"Correct, ten points to Gryffindor. It tells a story. Symphonie Fantastique is somewhat autobiographical of Berlioz himself."

"How so?"

"Well you see Berlioz saw a performance of Hamlet and fell in love with the actress playing Ophelia. He wanted to get her to notice him, but she wasn't interested," Tristan paused, giving Rory a pointed look. "He even had a couple of concerts to get her attention, but that didn't work. So after that he wrote Symphonie Fantastique."

"And it's the story about his experience?"

"Sort of. The symphony is about an artist who sees a beautiful girl. She's practically perfect to him. The first movement is about his daydreams, where he's alternately happy and jealous over the girl. This actually might sound a bit autobiographical about me," Tristan admitted.

"That's sweet, some girl distracted you?" Rory said, but Tristan just stared at her. He took a sip of his red wine and continued.

"The second movement, 'A Dance,' is a bit self explanatory. He watches the girl at a ball, but he's confused because he can't have her. In the third movement he broods. Again, I can relate,"

"You can? Who did you see at a dance that you couldn't get? You probably dated most of the girls in our class at Chilton."

"Not the one I really wanted," Tristan said, not taking his eyes off of hers.

"Get out of town! Who? You have to tell me now, I insist," Rory said eagerly.

"You," Tristan said, somewhat incredulously.

"What?"

"You Rory, you were the one I wanted but couldn't have. Don't you remember that stupid formal where I picked a fight with your boyfriend?"

"I remember, but you hated me, so what do you mean—," Rory tried, but Tristan was shaking his head.

"No, you hated me, which pretty much sealed my fate. It just made me want you more."

"Shut the front door," Rory said weakly. "Tristan, I had no idea. I just thought you had to prove something."

"Would anything be different if you had known?" Tristan asked, and Rory shook her head.

"No, but I'm still sorry."

"It's okay; don't beat yourself up over it. I didn't deserve you then anyway. Look at where you are and who you're with. You haven't run away from me yet in the past few months, so I'm happy."

"I'm glad. So what happens in the rest of the symphony?"

"Oh, well, the artist is upset about being rejected so he gets high and dreams about condemning the girl as a whore. Then he witnesses his own march to the scaffold where he's executed. It all ends with a witch's Sabbath at his funeral in the fifth movement," Tristan answered mildly. Rory looked at him with furrowed brows.

"Don't worry, that part doesn't reflect my life," he told her, but Rory still looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"It's just, you said Berlioz set up concerts to get that girl's attention and well, I saw you in concert. It's been ten years, you didn't, I mean, you haven't," Rory rambled, with a troubled expression. Tristan was shaking his head again.

"Mary," Tristan said sharply, "fix you face. You're not my Daisy Buchanan and I'm not your Jay Gatsby."

"Oh good," she said, taking a relieved breath.

"Keep in mind, Berlioz might have been tripping on opium when he wrote Symphonie Fantastique."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. That's the way it goes with the best composers. They were either on drugs or alcoholics. Oh, or they had syphilis," Tristan said, to which Rory laughed.

"Did the actress ever notice him though?"

"Actually she did. It was after he wrote a sequel to his symphony. She found out it was all inspired by her and they got married."

"Aw, a happy ending."

"Not exactly. Berlioz had her built up in his head so much that she couldn't live up to the Shakespearean goddess he had idealized for so long. They divorced after nine years of marriage."

"Oh," Rory said with a cringe.

"It happens. We can all learn from Berlioz: don't trip on opium while watching Shakespeare," Tristan said lightly. Rory just smiled down at her plate.

"And just one more fun fact, he actually wrote an oratorio after all of this."

"Yeah? What's the fun part about it?"

"It's Romeo and Juliet."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The seats Rory had purchased for the concert were excellent. They were close enough that they could hear the encouragement and jokes the conductor shared with the musicians. As the orchestra played Rory skimmed her program notes, which where in sync with Tristan's description. They both found the performance superb. Rory especially enjoyed the 'March to the Scaffold' movement, finding it quite exciting.

When the concert was over they headed back to Tristan's apartment for the promised cake that Rory had delivered when she came over before dinner. They each had a generous slice and ate it on the big black leather couch in Tristan's living room.

When they finished eating, Rory took their plates and set them in the kitchen before excusing herself to the bathroom. Tristan was still sitting on the couch when she came back down the hall. He had picked up a copy of the paper and was perusing it while he waited for her to return.

"Present time! Close your eyes," she exclaimed before she entered the room.

"I'm looking at the paper, I can't see anyway," he answered, distracted by what he was reading.

"Close 'em!" Rory demanded forcefully.

"Fine. They're closed," Tristan obeyed, putting down the paper. Rory walked into the room and behind the couch. She dropped to her knees and placed the box she was holding in Tristan's lap. She kissed him on the cheek and told him to open his eyes.

"You didn't have to get me anything, you already paid for dinner and the concert," Tristan protested.

"Just open it," Rory said with a smirk. Tristan took off the bow and tore open the festive Christmas wrapping paper.

"Nice paper," he leered.

"Hush, it's all I had," she answered. Isolde took interest in her owner's gift and walked across Tristan's lap as he opened the box.

"Huh, a sweater," Tristan replied with furrowed brows, looking down at the black garment. "In July. I don't get it, Mary."

"Well, let me tell you the back story. When I was living in the pool house, my grandparents were worried that I was getting too intimate with my then-boyfriend. So they had their minister come chat with me about being careful with my virtue. He said that if I gave it away, I would have nothing to give the next guy but a sweater."

"And I'm the next guy, so I get a sweater," Tristan said dryly, wondering how his birthday could have taken such a quick nose dive.

"That's right!" Rory said in what Tristan felt was an inappropriately cheerful voice. Just as he was about to vocalize his objection to the gift Rory stood back up and walked around the couch so he could see all of her. At this point he could only stare. She was wearing a short plaid skirt and a light blue button down shirt with the top two buttons unbuttoned. By the looks of things, the shirt was slightly too small for the attributes it held underneath it. And on closer look, Tristan could have sworn that her bra had gone missing.

"What are you wearing?" he asked when he regained control of his voice.

"What does it look like?" Rory said with a wicked grin.

"It looks like a Chilton uniform. My memory must be failing me though, were the skirts always that length?" he asked, unable to concentrate with the amount of leg being displayed before him.

"Oh, no. I had this one shortened for tonight. I thought it would make good wrapping paper."

"Wrapping paper?" he breathed shallowly.

"Yes, wrapping paper for whatever's left of my virtue. It's yours for the taking. Plus now you finally get to see what's under here," Rory explained, looking devilishly pleased with herself. Tristan stood up so quickly the box fell to the floor and Isolde had to leap off to the side so as not to fall with the box. In what Rory considered record time he was across the room and had her in his arms. He kissed her on the lips in earnest before picking her up and putting her over his shoulder. She giggled and started so spank him.

"Hey!"

"You need you're birthday spanking!" she said with a giggle.

Tristan entered his bedroom and saw that she had already lit several candles and had music playing softly from his stereo. He unceremoniously dropped her onto his bed and she looked up at him with desire in her eyes. He quickly unbelted and discarded his pants and his lips again assaulted Rory's. She went to work on the buttons to his shirt with trembling fingers. Tristan's hands wandered up and down the sides of her torso, each time getting tantalizingly closer to the center of her breasts. After she had discarded his shirt both of his thumbs finally grazed over her hardened nipples. Rory gasped and arched her back at the sensation. Before Tristan knew what had happened, they had both rolled over and Rory was straddling him. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids. He had her shirt removed as she trailed her lips down his chest, her hands on his muscular abs. Tristan's hands went to her smooth thighs and slid up under the short skirt.

"Where is your underwear?" he asked breathily.

"I lost them when I came in," Rory answered in what she was attempting at an innocent voice.

"Of course you did."

Tristan unzipped the skirt in the back but had to negotiate it over Rory's head as she was unwilling to remove her legs from around his midsection. His hands once again roamed over Rory's breasts and her head fell back at his touch; her hips involuntarily bucked against him. When she could no longer stand the ache that needed to be filled she reached over to the night stand and took something out from one of the boxes. Tristan tilted his head and smirked when he saw that there were several boxes sitting on his night stand. Rory reached down between Tristan's legs and felt how stiff he was; she heard his quick intake of breath as she ran her hand along the long length of him. She applied the prophylactic and slowly began to guide him inside of her. When Tristan felt Rory, hot and slick around him he rolled them back over and pinned her back down beneath him.

He kissed her deeply and lifted his head to look at her under him. When he looked into her eyes he saw the need that mirrored his own. Slowly, he began to move. Rory's breasts rose and fell rapidly as he thrust into her methodically. She arched toward him and her hips started to move with him rhythmically of their own volition. She moaned and he knew she was getting close; he instinctively moved faster, each time delving deeper than before. Just when Rory was sure she was going go split into two the waves of pleasure crashed over her. The beautiful pulsing sensation stretched on for several seconds as Tristan continued to thrust and then his own release arrived and he groaned with pleasure. He then collapsed on top of her and all was still as their breathing returned to normal. He rolled off of her and couldn't control the large smile that stretched over his face.

"That was the best birthday I've ever had, Rory," he told her and kissed her shoulder.

"Even with the sweater?" she asked.

"That's my favorite sweater. I'm wearing it tomorrow even if the temperature is in the nineties."

Rory returned the smile and relaxed, content, as Tristan slowly nibbled at her neck. She felt something stir within her and knew she made the right preparations when she glanced over at the boxes sitting on the night stand.