Title: Peer Pressure
Summary: Fourth installment in the WHW series. A Trory, of course. And, you know a billion other pairings.
Rating: T, for teen. Because there are so many of them running about.
Ella's long brown hair was splayed out over Billy's shoulder, as he held her against him tightly. The sun was just starting to come up, which could be noticed as the early cracks of daylight shone through under the door of the dance studio. Her eyes focused clearly, suddenly aware that daylight signaled their need to get back to the Inn, lest their absence be noted.
"You awake?" she whispered, still not wanting to move.
"Yeah, how'd you sleep?" Billy kissed her shoulder through her hair, making her giggle.
"Great," she purred, turning finally into his chest. "Last night, it was perfect," she kissed him softly on the lips.
"I'll say so," he returned the gesture, holding her as tightly as possible, unable to admit to the fact that their perfect night was over, and they would soon be ousted from their cocoon of teenage revelry and into the joint discomfort of a massive family gathering. A place where if they got too close, they would be reprimanded. Here, they couldn't be close enough, and nothing could separate them.
"You're sure you're okay?" he asked, studying her face, running one hand down her body.
She smiled knowingly. "I'm fine. Never been better," she assured. "But we should get going."
He groaned. "Just think, one more week, and never again will we have to worry about finding time," he kissed her cheek, "to do," he kissed one eyelid and then another, "this."
"One week," she sighed. "During which I'll be home packing," she whimpered at the thought of unadhering her body from his. This bed of yoga mats had been very satisfactory for their evening of pleasure, this small town dance studio the perfect setting away from their city-bound parents, as the rest of their families were too caught up in the mounting wedding excitement to take note of their whereabouts.
"But I'll be in New Haven to help you unpack," he reminded. "And after your parents leave, I don't have to," he promised.
"We'll see," she smiled, kissing him one last time before sneaking her hand out form under the blankets, feeling out for her discarded clothing from hours past. "But right now, if we don't get back in our beds before our parents wake up, you won't be able to walk, let alone drive to Yale," she laughing, finding his shirt and tossing it at him.
XXXX
Tristan knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer in due time. He could only imagine the activities that had gone on the night prior in the room—probably similar to the activities that had gone on in his room the night before. He smiled, remembering Rory's ferocity and playfulness, despite her inability to walk straight on her own. He had to keep her playful spirit in mind, in futile attempts not to envision how insanely irritated she would be at finding out her son had gotten himself beaten up when trying to put moves that he'd taught him on an evidently unwilling girl. He himself could just lecture his son about making sure the girl was putting the right vibe out there before making the attempt to get her reciprocate, or at least learn to duck, and end up laughing it off. But Rory, however, that would be a different story.
And first, he needed to gauge the severity with Jess. Evidently a very tousled, pleased Jess, from the look on his face when he stumbled to the door with the comforter wrapped around his whole body.
His smile faded, however, when he saw Tristan standing at the threshold, the worry lines already forming on his forehead.
"Hey," Tristan offered.
"Hey," Jess nodded. "I take it you found out about Jake," he nodded again.
"Yeah. Jules okay?"
Jess smirked. "She's fine. Weirded out. Probably not looking forward to the gang getting together," he trailed off.
"You seen him?"
Jess shook his head. "Nah. Just Jules, she, uh, came flying in," he paused, looking back into his room and lowered his voice, "She kinda walked in on us, Gwen freaked."
Tristan's eyes widened. The chain reaction his son had set off . . . . "Seriously?"
"Well, she didn't see anything. Gwen hid in the closet. I coaxed her out," he laughed. "She's fine. Jules is fine. Where did Jake end up?"
"Lorelai's. She just found him and called."
"Rory doesn't know?"
Tristan shook his head.
"Shit. How're you gonna break it to her?"
Tristan shook his head at him. "I have," he sighed, "no idea. Think I can just hide Jake from her 'til it fades?"
"Get her drunk again. That seems to work wonders," Jess laughed harder, causing Tristan to scowl.
"Thanks, go back to your happy relationship. I have to go retrieve my battle-worn child from his crazy grandmother."
Jess chuckled some more as he disappeared back into his den of love and security, not envying Tristan one iota. He could handle Gwen's embarrassment and the soothing of Jules. But Rory's wrath was something that could be unending and definitely unavoidable.
XXXX
Tristan decided to walk over to his mother-in-law's house, the stroll in the early morning air sure to help him come up with a defense. His son might have something to say that would assuage his fears of the inevitable, but what it would come down to was his own words with Rory behind closed doors. Or what he hoped would be closed doors. He rounded the town square, passing the 'closed for a special occasion' Luke's Diner, and smiled at the unusual quiet of the normally bustling small town. The quiet was abnormal, but it made the creaky squeaking of the old metal even louder as the sliding door to Ms. Patty's School of Dance slid open to expel the two teens, arms entwined and worn clothes not on completely straight. He watched, opened mouthed from across the way as Billy Melville pulled his daughter in for a not-so-chaste kiss before they parted ways and scurried off to their respective havens.
XXXX
"Ouch, shit," Jake winced as his dad took his head into his hands, jerking his head toward the light so he could see the damage better.
"Sorry," Tristan winced, "And, uh, watch your mouth," he added for good measure to make up for Rory's absence.
"It's bad enough I had Grandma come at me with goopey stuff and a lighted mirror," he groaned, causing Tristan to look up to Lorelai, who was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, smiling.
"You tried to put make-up on my son?" he asked, aghast.
She shrugged. "I was just trying to help," she informed him. "So, what are you going to tell Rory?" she mused, knowingly.
"The truth," Tristan barked, then looked back at his son. "Well, someone's gonna tell her the truth," he looked at his son. "What exactly did happen?"
Jake looked from his father to his grandmother, then pleadingly back to his father. Lorelai got the hint and left the two alone, Tristan now standing with his arms folded over his chest as his son sat on the closed toilet lid.
"We were watching a movie, alone," Jake lowered his eyes to his lap. "And she had rested back into me, I had my arm around her. So I just leaned down to kiss her, and she hauled off and hit me."
"And then?" Tristan pressed.
"And then she ran out, and I came here. I didn't really want to be in reach when Jess or Am got hold of her crying and my name on her lips."
Tristan nodded. "Smart. But relax, Jess is too impressed that Jules hit a guy to care that you tried anything," he sighed. "But your mother, however," he shook his head.
"You gonna make me tell her?" Jake asked, clearly worried.
"No," he sighed, "I'll do my best to calm her down. Just, promise me one thing?"
Jake nodded.
"Next time you get in the car, make sure the girl's all buckled up before you start the ignition, okay?"
Jake furrowed his brows and winced at the movement of the bruised skin. "I get it, I think."
Tristan shook his head, wishing his daughter was as clueless as his son. Not only was he dreading telling Rory of how his son got the bruised eye, but now he had to tell her of the sight he witnessed on the way to extraditing Jake.
XXXX
Davey knocked on the door to his new apartment. A few minutes went by before Mal's sister, Julie, opened the door, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"Dave?" she yawned. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to Mal," he said, moving to brush past her and enter his apartment.
"Oh no," she shut the door so that he couldn't enter the living room.
"Julie, I'm serious, I have to talk to her," he warned.
"Are you calling this off?" she asked.
"No," he reinforced, looking at her in surprise.
"Then it's bad luck, can't let you see her," she shook her head, holding the door just barely shut. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"I'd love to be," he groaned. "Come on, Julie, she was pissed," he informed her.
"Oh, I know that," she assured him.
"Then let me talk to her!"
"No! The wedding is in like eight hours, you can talk then!"
"Julie, it's a wedding, not a debate," he shot back. "I need to talk to her before we get married. Before we promise to honor and cherish each other, I need to know she isn't going to poison me in my sleep once she gets me alone!"
"Well, then maybe you shouldn't have had insane notions to keep her barefoot and pregnant while you watch women with fake boobs shake it for your merriment!"
"It wasn't like that! Will wouldn't even let me look at str—er, dancers," he corrected himself.
"Look. Go back to bed. I'm sure, for whatever reason, my sister wants to marry you. God knows why, but she hasn't said anything about killing you in your sleep. Though I will pass on the idea," she smiled and shut the door in his face. He let out a loud groan and retreated, vowing to get to her before the ceremony.
XXXX
Will wrapped his arms around her towel-covered waist. She leaned back into him, closing her eyes as he took over the job of holding her upright. She loved the feel of her weight sinking into him, being relieved of the duty of having to hold herself up.
"So, I thought I'd run by my Dad's house real quick," he kissed her neck after moving her wet hair out of his path. He loved the smell of her wet, freshly washed hair. "There's something special I need to ask him for."
She looked at him in the steam-streaked mirror, the fog dissolving as fresh air from beyond the bathroom mixed in and equalized the temperature. "Something special?"
"Something, official," he offered. "Your finger is looking awfully bare," he observed.
"But, I can't wear that yet," she reminded him. "We can't, not today."
He groaned. If he'd learned anything in his life, it was that keeping secrets in their families did not work. Not for long, anyhow. "Can't we just tell them? I'll slip it into my best man toast. I'll just say I hope that you and I will be as happy as Dave and Mal are, and mention that the same crowd will be gathered again in the near future for our wedding."
She laughed out loud, unable to not picture the looks on the faces of their friends and family as he unleashed the news as easily as he was wishing Dave and Mal congratulations. She turned in his arms, took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes.
"My mother is crazy enough today without telling her that child number two is engaged on the day that child number one is getting married. We can't slip it past them. It's just one day," she reminded him.
He studied her carefully, his hands warming her shoulders as the fine beads of condensation worked to cool her skin. "Fine. We won't tell anyone, but I am going to get you that ring by the end of the day. I want this official," he kissed her squarely on the mouth and let go of her.
"It's already official," she reminded him as he made for the open door.
"If you don't need the ring," he baited, to which she shot him a dangerous look.
"Don't be a smartass," she warned, "Just don't announce it to the world today."
He saluted her, reached out to kiss her on the cheek, and left her alone in efforts to obtain her ring without letting on that it was in immediate demand.
XXXX
Rory reached out from behind Tristan, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his back. He'd just sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure as to whether or not he could rest any more this morning, or if he should just remain in an upright position to worry about how to impart all the late-breaking news to his wife.
"Where've you been?" she murmured, helping him turn back in toward her to greet her in a kiss.
"Around," he avoided.
"I woke up," she kissed him, nuzzling her body closer into his, "And you weren't here," she pouted, ducking her head under his arm, leading him to embrace her.
"Well, I'm here now," he relaxed, figuring not telling her right this moment couldn't hurt anything.
She pulled back slightly and smiled softly as she looked into his troubled eyes. "Hey, everything okay?" she whispered seriously.
He allowed a grin to break out over his face, not wanting to watch the clouds form over her cheerful, brilliantly blue eyes. "Everything's fine, how could it not be?"
She was pleased with his response, not wanting to hear bad news any more than he wanted to give it, and they relaxed into each other once more, enjoying the extra time awake together before they had to get ready for the wedding and the craziness that this day would bring.
Or continue to bring, in his case.