Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gilmore Girls or its characters – the only thing that belongs to me is the story line, blah blah blah.

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Cheers

Chapter 5: I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues

Rory Gilmore was getting married.

Now that was unexpected.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe a small part of Dave subconsciously knew that it would happen, given the gloomy faces and veiled hints he'd been privy to all night. Sure, it had been a no-brainer. There could only have been two endings to the story, after all. Rory Gilmore had either: A) run off with another man, or B) met her tragic, untimely demise at the hands of a demented coffee machine. (And Dave couldn't help smiling at that piece of imagery.) It was cliché, it was predictable. Years of working in a bar had given Dave a lot of experience in this sort of thing. Still, just because he knew what was going to happen didn't make it any less of a shock when he did find out. No amount of intuition could ever get rid of that element of surprise. Life was kind of funny that way.

Rousing himself from his jumbled thoughts, Dave looked at the young men in front of him. All three of them were staring miserably into their beers, their faces identical masks of tragedy. If it hadn't been for the gravity of the situation, Dave would have probably laughed.  Instead, he decided to try another tack.

"So," he said, picking up another clean mug, racking his brain for something to say. "Are you going to the party?"

"I guess so," Dean mumbled. "I can't very well say no, can I?" Turning his head slightly, he looked at Tristan. "What about you?"

Tristan smiled wryly. "Considering my grandparents made it pretty clear they wouldn't put up with any excuses from me, I think it's safe to say that I'm going."

"Why would your grandparents care if you go to Rory's engagement party or not?" Jess asked, his curiosity piqued.

"A twisted sense of responsibility, old chap," Tristan sighed. "Her grandfather and mine have been business partners for years, so for me to back out of this would be nothing short of a sacrilege." There was a derisive smirk. "And the last thing I want to do is blacken the DuGrey family name by not showing up." He glanced at Jess. "You going?"

"I probably will." Jess tilted his head, tracing patterns on his mug with his fingers. "My uncle's pretty tight with Rory's mom, so it's kind of a given."

"That's what Rory is, huh?" Dave questioned doubtfully. "An obligation?"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Jess's eyes flashed, his tone defensive. "It's just that, well…" He broke off, shrugging helplessly.

Not that Dave needed further explanations, of course. It was clear that all three of them were still very much in love with Rory Gilmore, and to attend the party would undoubtedly rake up some painful, unwanted memories.  

"Look at us," Tristan said unexpectedly, morose. "Three Gilmore rejects, sitting in a row. All dressed up with nowhere to go." He cracked a smile, somewhat amused by his impromptu rhyme. "It's kind of funny, when you think about it."

"Yeah," Dean rolled his eyes. "A real riot." He paused. "You know something…"

Jess looked over at Dean. "What?"

"I spent so much time worrying she'd end up with Tristan. Or you," Dean said slowly, hesitantly. "I told her to pick one of us, and I wanted her to choose me. Maybe that was my mistake." He was silent for a moment. "Not once did I stop to think that one day, she might end up with someone else."

"Blame it all on the follies of youth," Tristan said, resigned. This was definitely a topic he'd given a lot of thought to. "When you're sixteen, you don't think about the right way to act, the right way to feel. You don't stop to analyse. You just get out there and live." He laughed to himself. "And Rory Gilmore certainly made life worth living, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Jess said softly, wistfully. "She did."  

"I thought that once I grew up and left Stars Hollow, I'd forget about her and move on," Dean said. "Instead, here I am, still as infatuated with her as I was back then."

"She's just one of those people, I guess," Tristan said, his voice sentimental. "The sort you never forget."

"The sort you never get over," Jess chipped in.

"The sort you never stop loving." Dean raised his beer, a small grin on his face. "Here's to Rory Gilmore."

"To Rory Gilmore," Tristan repeated.

Jess smiled. "To Rory Gilmore."

Solemnly, they clinked their mugs together, and Dave watched as they downed their drinks, three men united in their love for the same girl. There was something about that scene, something that made Dave feel as though he were intruding on a moment he had no way of understanding – it was something untainted and enduring, something that went deeper than young love, or jealousy, or unrequited emotions.

"What time is it?" Jess suddenly asked, shattering Dave's thoughts.

"Late," Tristan muttered, not bothering to check his watch.

"Right," Jess nodded. "I've got to get going."

"What, already?" Dean looked surprised.

"Yeah." Jess smiled apologetically. "I've got work tomorrow. You know how it is. Thanks for everything, Dave." Placing a wad of notes on the counter, he turned back to the other two. "So, I'll see you around, huh?"

"Guess so," Dean said, nodding to Jess.

"See you," Tristan added. Watching as Jess walked out of the bar, Tristan looked at Dean and Dave. "You know, I think I should head off as well. Got a big business meeting to attend tomorrow morning, and I don't want to be late." He patted Dean on the shoulder. "See you at the big party?"

"Right on, dude," said Dean. "Bye."

"So," Dave grinned after Tristan left. "Looks like it's just you and me."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "but not for long. I've got work tomorrow." Grabbing his coat, he smiled. "See you, Dave. And thanks for listening."

"No problem," Dave said. "Take care of yourself."

Dean nodded. "You too, man." Giving his friend one last smile, he walked to the exit and disappeared outside, the door swinging shut behind him. 

Oh well, alone again.

Whistling, Dave picked up the row of used mugs on the counter and deposited them in the sink, turning the water faucet on full blast. Dimly, he was aware of another person coming in, but he didn't stop to look up, busying himself with washing up instead. 

"Hey Dave," a man walked up to the bar, sitting down in one of the empty seats. "What's a man got to do to get a beer around here?"

"Coming right up," Dave said distractedly, drying his hands on a towel. Automatically, he reached for a glass, filling it to the rim before sliding it toward the customer. Absently, he retrieved the dishcloth and began to wipe another mug dry, his hands working fast, but his mind drifting elsewhere. 

"Hey man, are you okay?"

That brought Dave crashing back into reality. He blinked. "Huh? What?"

The man eyed Dave carefully. "You look like you're a million miles away!"

"Oh, I'm alright," Dave assured him. "I was just thinking."

The man looked at him interestedly. "What about?"

"Oh, something funny happened to me tonight," Dave said, smiling with a little embarrassment.

"Funny ha-ha, or funny weird?"

"Funny weird," Dave explained. "But never mind. I won't bore you with the details."

Christopher Hayden smiled innocently. "No, go on. Tell me."

Putting the dishcloth on the counter, Dave leaned forward, preparing to rehash the night's events. "It all started when these guys walked into the bar…"

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To Be Continued…