Don't Let Me Slide

Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls characters and settings were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino and are property of Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Hofflund/Polone, and Warner Bros. Television.

A/N: Thanks as always for reading, following, and reviewing. Next chapter will be up in a week!

Chapter 10 - Direction to Perfection

It's for the children, Rory reminded herself for the fourth or fifth time that evening. You're not being tortured, you're eating tilapia. Suck it up.

It had been awhile since she'd responded to her dinnermates, so she gave another smile-and-nod. That ought to tide her over for another sixty seconds or so, and she could continue to zone out. Mr. and Mrs. Seever were going on twenty minutes in their explanation of their high-school daughter's gymnastics competition, and Rory didn't really need to know that much about handsprings. Come to think of it, until tonight she would have been certain there wasn't so much that one could possibly know about handsprings.

Her gaze flicked over again to Tristan, seated on the opposite side of her and engaged in a separate conversation with the other side of their table. She might be semi-upset that he was useless in helping her to extricate herself from the unwelcome Gymnastics for Dummies lecture, except for the fact that she'd been using his preoccupation to her advantage all through their main course to sneak glances at him. Their gazes had collided a couple times, and he'd even flashed her a wink on one such occasion.

Just then, though, he gave her a much less appealing gesture when he kicked her lightly under the table. She jolted, wondering what had gotten into him; he was still engrossed in his conversation. It was then that he realized that her side of the table had gone quiet, apparently awaiting a response from her.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she realized she was caught. She leaned in a little closer, covering. "Oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you for a second over the music. What was that?"

Mrs. Seever, thankfully oblivious to Rory's wandering thoughts, repeated herself, raising her voice slightly. "Sorry, dear. We asked, were you involved in any sports in high school?"

Next to her, Tristan made a choking sound and covered by clearing his throat. Out of the corner of her eyes, Rory saw him move his fingers in front of his mouth to hide his smile, using the guise of intense interest in his conversation as he pretended not to be eavesdropping. She returned his kick under the table while she answered the Seevers.

"No, sports of any kind have never really been my forte," she confessed.

"So tell us, what was more your cup of tea?" Mrs. Seever asked.

"Writing," she answered easily. "I was on the newspaper staff in high school. That was my only extracurricular activity, unless you count growing up in a small town, which was kind of an activity of its own."

"Newspaper staff," Mr. Seever observed. "So I guess the media has always been in your blood. No wonder you ended up in public relations."

They'd covered the basics earlier in the evening, with Rory and Tristan having proudly discussed - and shamelessly plugged - the TerraSync campaign. Given the passion with which she'd talked about her job, she could see why they may have gathered that it was her intended career choice.

"I had never actually considered that I might end up in PR," she admitted.

"Oh?" Mrs. Seever leaned in, interested. "Why's that?"

"I'd just always pictured myself as a reporter," she clarified. "I was going to be a foreign correspondent."

"That sounds exciting," Mr. Seever noted.

She nodded, smiling. "That's what I thought. As I grew up, though, and found my way in the industry, I really started to develop a passion for local news. It made me feel so connected to the community I lived in."

"So what brought you to your current role, then?"

She shrugged. "Just the typical twists and turns that come with any career, I guess. I was laid off due to budget cuts at my old paper, and with print media still struggling, there weren't a lot of other dailies hiring. I was introduced to this opportunity, and it seemed like it was worth a try, at least."

Rory caught motion out of the corner of her eye as Tristan reached for his water glass, and his gaze skittered away when she caught it in her own.

"Do you think you'll ever go back to reporting?" Mrs. Seever questioned.

"Um," Rory started, reaching for her own water glass. "I'm really not sure, at this point."

Mr. Seever hooked his arm around the back of his wife's chair. "Let's not subject the poor girl to the Inquisition, Rosie," he chastised.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Seever rushed, looking apologetically at Rory. "I don't mean to pry. I tend to get ahead of myself, sometimes."

"It's okay," Rory assured with an easy smile. She was grateful for Mr. Seever's diversion, not necessarily wanting to dive any deeper into the topic of her future plans, since she was still having trouble picturing her life after the TerraSync campaign ended. Her work had kept her busy enough that she hadn't had much time to think about it, though she knew she'd need to sooner or later, and just the thought of that impending deadline was stressing her out.

Rory leaned back as a waiter cleared her plate from the table. The music had started to pick up, and she noted that the tables around them were beginning to disperse as couples headed to the dance floor.

"If you both will excuse me, I'm going to visit the Ladies'," Mrs. Seever spoke. "Ron, why don't you be a gentleman and invite this young woman for a dance?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine, really," Rory insisted quickly.

"Nonsense, dear," Mrs. Seever clucked. She gave her husband a none-too-subtle look as she departed.

Mr. Seever stood and extended his hand gallantly. "May I?"

Not seeing a way to refuse, Rory pasted on what she hoped could pass for a smile and took his hand, allowing herself to be led out to the dance floor. She self-consciously used her free hand to smooth away any potential wrinkles in her dress. She'd noticed belatedly while she was getting ready for the evening that the fabric was a tad too clingy, but it had been too late to find something else. She had been excited to have an excuse to finally wear the dress that had been languishing in the back of her closet; she'd originally been attracted to the lovely dark lavender shade when she'd seen it on the mannequin, and when she had noted that it was on sale, she'd taken it home on impulse, figuring she'd have the chance to use it eventually. It had taken almost a year. The dress closely hugged her figure, hitting just above the knee, so wasn't appropriate for truly formal or more professional occasions - particularly given the bare back - but she'd figured she could get away with it for tonight's semi-formal dinner. Especially when the only person from work that she had to impress was Tristan, and she'd sensed from the way his eyes had darkened when he'd picked her up earlier that evening that he was plenty impressed.

Mr. Seever steered them into position in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples moving gracefully around them. Rory gulped.

"I should tell you that I'm not the most graceful creature," she admitted. "That's a big part of the reason that I've stuck with indoor activities rather than sports."

He grinned good-naturedly. "Don't you worry. Rosie and I took dancing lessons before our wedding, and it's a skill that's come in surprisingly handy over the years."

"I can imagine," Rory laughed nervously.

"Don't tell her I told you that," he said conspiratorially.

Mr. Seever clasped one of her hands in his and used the other to move her hand to rest on his shoulder. He then rested his other hand lightly on her back. No sooner had they begun to move than Rory felt his foot under hers, and she cringed.

He merely chuckled. "Why don't you let me lead?"

"Sorry," she muttered. She looked down at their feet studiously, trying to avoid any further incident. She made an effort to listen to the music and choreograph her movements accordingly.

"Miss Gilmore," Mr. Seever interrupted her thoughts. "This is not an activity that requires so much intense thought."

She lifted her eyes to his and saw the laughter in them. She sighed. "I'm no good at this."

"Nonsense. You just need to learn how to give up some control."

"See, I've never been good at that, either."

"Just follow me. I won't lead you astray," he promised.

She couldn't help but return his warm smile. "I'll try."

True to her word, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. She started to notice that she could feel gentle pressure from Mr. Seever's hand over hers, indicating when he was about to step forward, and she could match him with a step back. Soon, they were gliding together across the floor. She couldn't say it was completely effortless; she still had a couple of missteps, but he graciously ignored them and continued to direct her movements to the music.

"This isn't so bad," she noted.

He grinned at her. "I tried to tell you."

"Touche, Mr. Seever."

He chuckled again, and then she saw his eyes focus over her shoulder. "I think our time together is about to be cut short."

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Tristan sidle up next to them. "I'm sorry to interrupt. May I please borrow Rory?"

"She's all yours," Mr. Seever replied. "Have fun, kids." With one last smile at her, he trailed back to their table to retrieve his wife.

Tristan placed his hand on her back, and she she shivered, though she wasn't cold. His touch on her bare skin had a very different effect than Mr. Seever's. "I need to see you outside for a minute."

"Oh," she blinked. "I thought you were cutting in for a dance."

He looked down at her, and she noticed that he was tense, though his lips twitched. "Believe me, I'd love to dance with you, but right now we need to talk."

She followed him quickly out of the ballroom and down the empty hall, letting the music and drone of voices give way to quiet before he turned to face her.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, noting that his jaw was set.

"We have a problem."

Her mind immediately began cataloguing all of the possible scenarios for his consternation, and landed fairly quickly on one that had been on her mind for the past few days. "Did the Creative team miss the deadline for the video footage submittal to the networks?" she guessed.

"Surprisingly, no," Tristan answered. "They sent it over a couple of hours ago."

"Then what is it?"

Tristan sighed. "Apparently one of the client manufacturing sites that has been involved in the TerraSync pilot implementation had to recently let go their Production Manager due to sexual harassment claims. He was none too happy about it, and he went blabbing to a reporter."

Rory tensed, and she could feel some adrenaline starting to kick in. "The press will have a field day just with 'sexual harassment' and 'TerraSync' in the same context. With all the coverage the campaign has had lately, people recognize the name, so any drama that they can dig up will be fuel that they'd love to add to the fire just to increase views and circulation."

Tristan nodded. "And that's not all."

Her heart sank. "What else?"

"This ex-employee, a Mr. Gary Lowell, apparently also disparaged TerraSync while he was at it. He told the reporter that he was intimately involved in the implementation of the sustainability projects, and that the project has been consistently behind, missing deadlines, and that they were running way over budget."

"But that's not true!" she cried indignantly.

Tristan rolled his eyes and gave her a condescending look. "When has the truth ever mattered to the press?"

Rory narrowed her eyes at him. "It matters a great deal to most of us. Don't go generalizing the entire population of journalists based on the characteristics of only the bottom-feeding rabble rousers who give the rest of us a bad name."

He held up his hands. "Fine, fine. Sorry. I'm a little biased at the moment."

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen before handing it over. Her eyes skimmed the email, which had been addressed to both of them. She'd left her phone in her clutch back at the table and had barely glanced at it all evening, not wanting to be rude. She looked back up at him when she finished reading. "Damn it."

He nodded tersely. "My first reaction was a bit more colorful than that."

Rory took a deep breath, steadying herself, while she quickly ran through disaster scenarios in her mind. Nope, unfortunately she didn't have a mental plan prepared for this unlikely event. Still, she knew that they couldn't just sit back and wait for the shit to hit the fan.

"Got any tricks up your sleeve?" Tristan asked hopefully.

"I hope so. Can you call Jason?"

He raised his brow. "You really want to bring him into this right now?"

She nodded, hoping that this burgeoning plan wouldn't blow up in her face. "I don't think we have a choice. Sooner or later, he's going to be called to comment, anyway. Ask him if he'd be willing to schedule an interview tomorrow."

Tristan furrowed his brow. "Are you sure this is the right time for that?"

"Just call him," she urged.

She paced the hall while Tristan stepped away. She watched him speaking on the phone, his hand on his hip with his back turned to her. His voice was too low for her to hear much. She couldn't help but fidget impatiently while she waited, smoothing her dress again. She really hoped this would work. Although Jason was perfectly willing to talk about TerraSync to anyone who would listen, Rory had advised him to hold off on interviews, figuring they would save that tactic for just the right time in the campaign, or for an emergency. She was disappointed that it was the latter scenario. A couple of women caught her eye as they meandered past on the way to the restrooms, and she smiled tightly.

Finally Tristan ended his call and returned to her, his hand falling from the back of his neck. "It's done."

"What did he have to say about it?" she asked.

"Nothing worthy of being repeated in front of a lady."

She gave a huff of a laugh, in spite of the situation. Then she held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

He handed it over without question, but with a curious look.

"It's time to cross your fingers and hope that I can pull off Part 2 of this plan," she told him. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it."

She appreciated his confidence in her, and set her shoulders while she prepared to dial. She listened to the line ring twice, holding her breath. When the answer finally came, she met Tristan's eyes one last time, hoping to bolster herself with some of his strength under pressure. She turned her back to him as she dedicated all her attention to the voice on the other line.

"Kevin," she greeted, her tone icy.

"Who is this?" the voice demanded.

"It's Rory Gilmore. We need to talk."

"Gilmore?" he confirmed. "From the TerraSync campaign? I figured I'd be getting a call from your camp."

"You figured right," she replied coolly. "That's what happens when you call our office and threaten to run a story that you clearly haven't fact-checked."

"Hey, I have a source who says-"

"I know exactly what your source says," she interrupted. "But your source is clearly unreliable. A disgruntled ex-employee disparaging his former place of work? Come on."

"The public will still eat it up," the reporter replied.

"The public will see right through it," she asserted.

"Who's to say?" he mused. "Only one way to find out. Tune in to Twitter, Facebook, and the Daily News's comments section tomorrow and see for yourself."

"You're not going to run this story."

He laughed. "You seem pretty confident about that."

"I am. Because I know you're going to like what I have to offer a lot more."

"Gilmore, are you propositioning me?" he asked in a suggestive tone.

Her lip curled up in disgust. "You wish. I'm offering you a better story."

"Hmm. Can't say I'm not disappointed. But tell me more about this offer."

She sighed, hating that she had to pander to this sleazeball. She really didn't want to do this, but it was the only card she could think to play in this scenario. "How about an exclusive with Jason Stone?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and she knew she had him. He finally piped in, with a tone of derisive disbelief. "Stone doesn't do interviews about TerraSync."

"That's right. He hasn't yet. But he'll be ready to give one to you, tomorrow. If,and only if," she paused, to make sure her next point hit home. "You can assure us that the harassment story and the quotes from Gary Lowell will disappear."

After another pause, Kevin cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. "Fine. You got it. I'll give up Gary Lowell for Stone. But I need a three-week embargo on any other interviews from Jason Stone."

"Ha!" she yelled harshly. "Yeah, right. Three-day embargo is more like it."

"One week," he countered. "Take it or leave it. I can still run with Lowell."

Rory ground her teeth. Realistically, she knew that Jason could play this interview to his favor, and they wouldn't need to give another to any other press outlet within the week anyway. It may actually be best for them to let the coverage and ripples from the Daily News play out before they moved on to other interviews. But the nerve of this guy!

"Fine," she hissed. "One week. No one else will get an interview with Jason until then. And you'll forget the Gary Lowell story ever happened."

"Deal," Kevin agreed quickly.

She sighed, knowing that he'd still gotten a fantastic deal from her. That grated on her. She didn't like catering to this asshole.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Gilmore," he continued. "Don't be a stranger."

With that, she hung up on him. She took another deep breath before turning back to face Tristan.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "I'm dying here."

"In exchange for an exclusive with Jason tomorrow, Kevin and the Daily News will bury the Gary Lowell thing."

He let out a breath and closed his eyes briefly in relief. When he opened them again, he considered her with a tilt of his head. "That was impressive."

"All in a day's work," she replied nonchalantly. Inwardly, she was a little impressed with herself, too, but mostly just relieved that they could stop worrying about this.

Tristan slowly stepped closer to her, a mischievous smile playing across his lips. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I'm almost glad you had to tell off that prick."

She tilted her head to look up at him curiously.

He leaned down to speak a low admission in her ear. "I really enjoyed watching that."

Her pulse began to beat a bit erratically, her fading adrenaline mixed with something else now. She tried to play it cool. "Hmm. Glad you think so, but personally I'm hoping not to have to talk to him again anytime soon."

Tristan's suggestive look was replaced with one of concern, and he placed a protective hand on the small of her back. "Did he say something?"

She shook her head. "Nothing I can't handle. I just hate dealing with so-called journalists like him."

"Sounds like you could use a drink."

She smiled. "Excellent powers of observation you've got there. Does that mean we're ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

His dark eyes shone down at her. "I wish. But they haven't thanked the sponsors yet tonight. I think our absence would be conspicuous when they get around to acknowledging Panoramic and we're not there to shine the spotlight on. That is the reason we're here, after all."

She couldn't help the small noise of dismay that escaped her throat, and Tristan chuckled with a healthy dose of male satisfaction.

"Patience is a virtue," he teased. "We'll get out of here soon enough."

"Fine. But if you let me get dragged into another lively conversation about gymnastics, you won't be easily forgiven."

"Your warning is appreciated, and duly noted," he assured her.

"How much longer do we have to stay, do you think?" she asked. She surprised herself with her frankness, but had to admit that she was more than ready to be done with the party. She was also starting to feel pretty ready to get on with the rest of their evening. Her hands, again without conscious thought or permission, had hand found their way to the lapels of Tristan's jacket. He was warm under her touch, and the way he looked down at her was doing nothing to increase her patience.

"You're the one who insisted that the evening wouldn't be so bad," he reminded her. "Come on, Cinderella, let's get you back to the ball."

She fell into step beside him as they made their way back toward the event room, resigning herself to another hour or more of polite chatter and schmoozing. She felt a little bad; Mr. and Mrs. Seever were actually pretty delightful people, and it wasn't entirely their fault that she couldn't keep her attention on their conversation. She was about to turn to Tristan and tell him she'd changed her mind, and would talk about gymnastics as much as her polite dinnermates wanted; suddenly, though, she felt Tristan wrap her hand in his and yank her sideways.

He was there to steady her when she stumbled against him, but he wasted no time in pulling her further into what appeared to be a coat room. They came to a stop at the far end of one of the long, empty racks and he backed her against the wall, pinning her with his heated gaze and caging her in with his arms braced on either side of her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Shh." He covered her mouth teasingly with his hand while he let his eyes roam over her. When he looked back up, his eyes were dark and full of promises. "This dress has been driving me crazy all night."

Before he removed his hand from her mouth, his thumb dragged across her lower lip, and she drew in a sharp breath. His ducked his head to draw a path with his lips down her neck and across her collarbone, and she couldn't even bring herself to be embarrassed that he could surely feel her pulse skyrocketing. "What happened to 'patience is a virtue'?"

"I've never claimed to be a virtuous man." She shivered at the sensation of his low voice next to her ear. Before she could form a retort, he occupied her mouth with a searing kiss.

They took their time at first, tasting each other. She felt his warm hand slide lower down her bare back, coming to rest just at the point where her skin gave way to the fabric of her dress. He pressed her closer to him while his other hand moved to the back of her head, tangling in her hair as his exploration of her mouth became more urgent.

She sensed his need for control, but wasn't willing to surrender to him just yet. She drew back momentarily for some much-needed air, then cupped his head in her hands and brought him back for a slow kiss. She teased him, sucking lightly at his bottom lip and sliding her tongue against it, but refusing to take it any deeper. She did it again, playing with him, enjoying the heady sensation of taking charge.

A groan emanated from deep in his throat, and he leaned his body into her, his hips pinning her against the wall. He took advantage of her gasp by snaking his tongue into her mouth to wrap around hers in a kiss that was clearly a power play, though he'd hear no complaints from her. His message was clear- he was done playing. He slid a hand down over the curve of her hip, then back up, the friction pulling some of the fabric of her dress along with him. She clung to him as her knees trembled.

"Why don't I feel anything under this dress?" he growled.

"Panty lines," she confessed.

He swore under his breath, right before his mouth crashed back to hers.

His tongue claimed hers in hot, possessive sweeps until she was breathless all over again. She barely repressed a moan, arching instinctively against him, trying to eliminate any spare millimeter of distance between their bodies.

Tristan froze, his muscles turning to stone while his chest rose and fell with his rapid breath. "We need to stop this," he groaned.

"We do?" Thoughts slowly started to emerge from the fog that had overtaken her, now that he was no longer actively working to distract her. Although his forehead was pressed to hers, and his warm breath was coming quickly against the skin of her neck, which was its own form of torture. He was probably right, though she was having a hard time connecting her thoughts to her actions, and her fingers were still pressed into his back, trying to draw him closer.

"Tell me no," he urged, his voice a low rumble. He was still frozen, but his knee was shoved between hers and his body pinned her to the wall. His hands tightened against her hips and she squirmed against him, eliciting him to take a sharp breath. "Push me away. Tell me we can't do this here."

"We can't?"

"You suck at this," he reported, but he let his lips resume their assault.

Rory's own hands continued their exploration, sliding around his sides to his hard stomach, feeling his muscles contract under her touch, and her fingers finally came to rest on top of his belt buckle. She was fairly certain that in less than 4 seconds she was going to make a move that would put them squarely in NC-17 territory, but the sound of footsteps and voices approaching cut through her haze and distracted her momentarily from her intentions.

Tristan tore his lips from hers while he hastily pulled away, flattening himself against the wall next to her while they both worked on quieting their ragged breathing.

Two women were chatting easily near the entrance to the coat room. Being that it was late June, there was obviously no need for coats, and so Tristan and Rory only had the darkness in the depths of the room to shield them from any prying eyes. Once she could hear again over the beating of her own heart, Rory waited until the voices retreated before she turned back to Tristan, but he pulled away out of her reach.

"I'm going to get us both in a lot of trouble if you touch me again right now."

"Is that a promise?"

"Rory, please." His voice was strained, full of warning.

She acquiesced, giving up her pursuit and leaning back against the wall. "You started it."

"The dress started it," he corrected.

"So… rain check?"

His eyes flashed, and his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. "You can count on it."

She'd just finished relearning how to breathe like a normal human, and he was already ruining it with that look alone. She smiled at him anyway. "I will."

"You should probably get back out there." He nodded his head toward the door.

"I guess so. Are you going to join me?"

"You go first. I'm going to need a minute." He gave her a pointed look.

She bit her lip to stop her smirk. Yes, that situation had definitely not gone unnoticed. "You'll come find me later?"

"Don't worry, I'm not leaving without you," he assured.

She thrilled at the potential meaning in his words, but tried to play it casual. At least, as casually as she could, given their position mere moments ago. "I'll see you back out there, then."

She walked a couple steps away and paused to put herself back together, running her fingers around her mouth to clear away any remaining traces of lipstick. She was sure her lips were red enough as it was, and probably swollen, but there was no helping that. After straightening her hair, she ran her palms down her hips, smoothing her dress back into place.

"Jesus," she heard Tristan mutter behind her. "Are you kidding me with this? Get out of here already."

She looked over her shoulder to find him closely watching her every move with a smoldering gaze. "I'm going, I'm going!"

With a last, deep breath, she set her shoulders and headed back to the crowded ballroom. The buzz of the crowd reached her ears before she even made it to the door, and she pasted a polite smile on her face before stepping through. She spotted their empty seats back at their table, where their dinnermates were chatting amicably. Deciding that she would definitely need a drink before Tristan rejoined her, she made a beeline for the bar and ordered up a glass of Sauvignon. She hung around the bar for a few more minutes, sipping her wine and observing the crowd. As if she could sense him, her eyes were drawn back to the door when Tristan entered, and she watched him scan the room before his still-smoky gaze landed on her.

He didn't linger long before making his way back to their table and taking his seat. She watched him easily insert himself into the conversation that was taking place between the Seevers and the Caldwells. Tristan's hand wrapped around his water glass and she watched him take a sip while he cast her a sidelong glance from across the room.

Rory sighed and turned back around to face the bartender, gesturing to her drink. "Could I get another, please?"

She had a feeling they were both going to need a bit of liquid courage to make it through the rest of the evening.