Leaves
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to ASP and all those companies. I've spent all my money on Christmas presents anyway.
Pairing: R/T
Feedback: Please. Just so I don't disappear under a rock.
Author's Note: I don't know what's confusing about Rory and Jess (or your name, sorry), but if you care enough to drop me a line, I'll try to clear it up. Email's in my profile. Incidentally, thanks to everyone who's reviewed!
*****
Rory glanced around the room again, searching for Lorelai. Emily and Mrs. DuGrey had carried her off some time ago to introduce her to someone or other, and she hated them all for staying away so long. If they were here, her grandfather wouldn't be saying these things. At least not to her.
He ignored her half-hearted attempt to end his tirade, raising his voice to drown her out. "It's not as if I have no life outside of you, Rory. Who knows what claims are being filed right now? Well, I do: bogus ones! And because I'm not there they're all going to be paid, all of them. These young whippersnappers don't know what they're doing, never mind how to do it. But that doesn't matter to any of you; you don't hesitate to drag me away from my work, to some social function that I'd hate even if I had the time for it. I didn't expect you to want this Rory, I thought you had a modicum of taste."
"Grandma wanted - "
"What about what I want?"
Rory shook her head helplessly, not knowing what to say. Richard snorted in disgust and excused himself, disappearing into the crowd.
There was silence for a few seconds before Tristan blew his breath out in astonishment.
"Whew. That was, um--"
"Unusual."
"I'm sure. Is he all right? He looked like he was about to have a heart attack."
"He's fine." She paused for a minute, glaring about, before bursting out with defenses. "It's not like I asked him to come. It's not like I was all, `Hey Grandpa, your ass isn't at my dances and I'm naming my first-born Mao and becoming a Scientologist! So there!' It's not my fault." She hated how needy she sounded.
Tristan attempted to soothe her. "There's no fault to be yours. I don't know why he's acting like this today, but it'll pass. He's just irritated."
He wasn't helping. "Want to dance?"
"Sure."
He led the way to the floor, and they began carefully navigating a path around the other couples. Initially, Rory had been intimidated by Tristan; he had seemed like a stranger, stiff and distant. Taller. She was more relaxed now, or she had been. She willed the tension to leave her body, moving closer to him.
It was an effort to keep an acceptable distance between them. She wanted to erase the remnants of her earlier fear, slip her arms under his jacket, and hug herself to him. She needed to reassure herself that he would accept that, that he wouldn't reject an attempt on her part to become closer to him.
Rory's confidence had diminished as time had passed. She had always known that Tristan wanted her, she had just been unwilling to acknowledge it. Now that she wished to - explore possibilities - Tristan's desire for her seemed to have vanished. It wasn't that he had indicated a distaste for her company; he hadn't indicated anything. How was she supposed to tell him what she wanted - tell him that she wanted him - when there was a possibility that he'd shoot her down? She wasn't imagining things, he had been distant lately. He had shown more reserve in the last week than he had in the year she had known him, and it was scaring her.
Maybe it wasn't worth the risk; maybe she should just forget the whole crazy thing. She shrugged her shoulders in discomfort, the painful tightness limiting the movement. His voice startled her, and she looked up, stepping back quickly. She was too close to him. She couldn't let her attention drift like that.
"Don't let it get to you. I know you're upset that he's angry, but it's not your fault. It's not your responsibility to make him happy."
It took a second for her to realize what he was talking about. "I know."
"Do you think I don't know that you're lying?"
He seemed interested, so she answered. "Yes. I did."
"Well, discard that charming notion and move on. Do you even know why you feel guilty? How could you possibly be letting him down?"
"By forcing him to come here. Or at least creating a set of circumstances that forced him to attend."
"Nobody forced him to come. Well, maybe your grandmother did, but that's nothing to do with you. He could have stayed home if he had wanted to."
"But that would have upset Grandma. If I hadn't done this, he wouldn't have been put into that position."
"If you hadn't done this, you would have upset your grandmother instead of your grandfather. There's no way everybody is getting what they want in this situation, and your grandfather should know that, and not expect you to provide the impossible. He's being selfish, and taking out his frustrations on you instead of discussing them with his wife." Tristan didn't let her interrupt, talking over her objection. "But what your grandfather is doing isn't important. The point is, you can't please everyone, and you shouldn't try. You'll just upset yourself." His hands slid up her back to her shoulder blades, rubbing them lightly. Her body was suddenly loose, swaying against him. "You should get a massage tomorrow. You've earned it." The conversation wandered to less serious matters: dancing, and dresses, and relaxation.
These moments were the problem. When Tristan wasn't being distant and reserved, he was being charming, and expansive, and endearing as hell. These flashes drew Rory in against her will, convincing her that she had to do something about this. This was intolerable; he was intolerable. He shouldn't be making her feel like this, she shouldn't be letting him. But he was, and she had to do something about it.
She only had two choices: she could start avoiding him, or she could tell him how she felt. The first wasn't an enticing option. She had to tell him. Of course, it was perfectly possible that after she did, he would be the one avoiding her.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to ASP and all those companies. I've spent all my money on Christmas presents anyway.
Pairing: R/T
Feedback: Please. Just so I don't disappear under a rock.
Author's Note: I don't know what's confusing about Rory and Jess (or your name, sorry), but if you care enough to drop me a line, I'll try to clear it up. Email's in my profile. Incidentally, thanks to everyone who's reviewed!
*****
Rory glanced around the room again, searching for Lorelai. Emily and Mrs. DuGrey had carried her off some time ago to introduce her to someone or other, and she hated them all for staying away so long. If they were here, her grandfather wouldn't be saying these things. At least not to her.
He ignored her half-hearted attempt to end his tirade, raising his voice to drown her out. "It's not as if I have no life outside of you, Rory. Who knows what claims are being filed right now? Well, I do: bogus ones! And because I'm not there they're all going to be paid, all of them. These young whippersnappers don't know what they're doing, never mind how to do it. But that doesn't matter to any of you; you don't hesitate to drag me away from my work, to some social function that I'd hate even if I had the time for it. I didn't expect you to want this Rory, I thought you had a modicum of taste."
"Grandma wanted - "
"What about what I want?"
Rory shook her head helplessly, not knowing what to say. Richard snorted in disgust and excused himself, disappearing into the crowd.
There was silence for a few seconds before Tristan blew his breath out in astonishment.
"Whew. That was, um--"
"Unusual."
"I'm sure. Is he all right? He looked like he was about to have a heart attack."
"He's fine." She paused for a minute, glaring about, before bursting out with defenses. "It's not like I asked him to come. It's not like I was all, `Hey Grandpa, your ass isn't at my dances and I'm naming my first-born Mao and becoming a Scientologist! So there!' It's not my fault." She hated how needy she sounded.
Tristan attempted to soothe her. "There's no fault to be yours. I don't know why he's acting like this today, but it'll pass. He's just irritated."
He wasn't helping. "Want to dance?"
"Sure."
He led the way to the floor, and they began carefully navigating a path around the other couples. Initially, Rory had been intimidated by Tristan; he had seemed like a stranger, stiff and distant. Taller. She was more relaxed now, or she had been. She willed the tension to leave her body, moving closer to him.
It was an effort to keep an acceptable distance between them. She wanted to erase the remnants of her earlier fear, slip her arms under his jacket, and hug herself to him. She needed to reassure herself that he would accept that, that he wouldn't reject an attempt on her part to become closer to him.
Rory's confidence had diminished as time had passed. She had always known that Tristan wanted her, she had just been unwilling to acknowledge it. Now that she wished to - explore possibilities - Tristan's desire for her seemed to have vanished. It wasn't that he had indicated a distaste for her company; he hadn't indicated anything. How was she supposed to tell him what she wanted - tell him that she wanted him - when there was a possibility that he'd shoot her down? She wasn't imagining things, he had been distant lately. He had shown more reserve in the last week than he had in the year she had known him, and it was scaring her.
Maybe it wasn't worth the risk; maybe she should just forget the whole crazy thing. She shrugged her shoulders in discomfort, the painful tightness limiting the movement. His voice startled her, and she looked up, stepping back quickly. She was too close to him. She couldn't let her attention drift like that.
"Don't let it get to you. I know you're upset that he's angry, but it's not your fault. It's not your responsibility to make him happy."
It took a second for her to realize what he was talking about. "I know."
"Do you think I don't know that you're lying?"
He seemed interested, so she answered. "Yes. I did."
"Well, discard that charming notion and move on. Do you even know why you feel guilty? How could you possibly be letting him down?"
"By forcing him to come here. Or at least creating a set of circumstances that forced him to attend."
"Nobody forced him to come. Well, maybe your grandmother did, but that's nothing to do with you. He could have stayed home if he had wanted to."
"But that would have upset Grandma. If I hadn't done this, he wouldn't have been put into that position."
"If you hadn't done this, you would have upset your grandmother instead of your grandfather. There's no way everybody is getting what they want in this situation, and your grandfather should know that, and not expect you to provide the impossible. He's being selfish, and taking out his frustrations on you instead of discussing them with his wife." Tristan didn't let her interrupt, talking over her objection. "But what your grandfather is doing isn't important. The point is, you can't please everyone, and you shouldn't try. You'll just upset yourself." His hands slid up her back to her shoulder blades, rubbing them lightly. Her body was suddenly loose, swaying against him. "You should get a massage tomorrow. You've earned it." The conversation wandered to less serious matters: dancing, and dresses, and relaxation.
These moments were the problem. When Tristan wasn't being distant and reserved, he was being charming, and expansive, and endearing as hell. These flashes drew Rory in against her will, convincing her that she had to do something about this. This was intolerable; he was intolerable. He shouldn't be making her feel like this, she shouldn't be letting him. But he was, and she had to do something about it.
She only had two choices: she could start avoiding him, or she could tell him how she felt. The first wasn't an enticing option. She had to tell him. Of course, it was perfectly possible that after she did, he would be the one avoiding her.