Disclaimers: all due respectfulrespects to the real copyright-ests of these characters
a/n: thanks to the very kind folk who reviewed the first chapter. you're right too, this is a ridiculoulsy overused idea, but i've never seen it done how i wanted it done yet. so i'm giving it a go.
**
Rory didn't need to turn around to know, absolutely, to whom that soft but blandly-teasing voice belonged. The knowledge that Tristan was right behind her did have the effect of giving her a seconds pause though. She could feel herself stiffening, and her heels slumping back to the floor as her mind raced away from the shelf in front of her. Then, deliberately, methodically, she reined her focus back in, got back on her toes and finished scanning the shelf. There, in the right corner, was a bunch of uniform silver boxes. Satisfied, Rory dropped the one she was carrying in the pile and then slowly turned around.
The boy slouched lazily against the doorframe cut a sleek and smug figure; he reminded Rory, not for the first time, of a big blonde cat. Beautiful and marmelaide, aloof and predatory, mysterious and concerned only with his own pleasure; Rory was sure Tristan had been feline in another life. Cats were extraordinary creatures but Rory didn't think their characteristics carried over very well to humans. And she was very sure she didn't appreciate feeling like a field mouse caught under a full moon every time she saw him.
'You're blocking my way, Tristan.' she said, an unaccostomed harshness in her voice.
'Well, you're making my day,' he replied immediately. She blinked and then he added, as an afterthought, 'Mary.'
Rory crossed her arms. 'What do you want?' she asked resignedly. She knew her chances of getting a straight answer were zero.
'To create a perfect and spontaneous sonnet with you in the manner of Romeo and Juliet.' Tristan shrugged. He grabbed Rory's hand 'You remember how they go? I'll remind you of the original. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine..."'. Rory snatched her hand back and glared at him. 'Oh well, not today then.' He demured. Then he said 'I'd settle for a quick feel?'
Rory now scowled into his sharp blue eyes and smirking full lips. 'You really don't need me here for this you know. A wall length mirror would do just as well. I've got things to do this afternoon, I'm meeting Dean at 6 o'clock and I have to get home to see my mom first. I have commitments. You just seem to have time to waste yourself in.'
Wow. Rory bit her lip on the last statement as soon as it left her mouth. It had come out so much nastier than she'd intended it to. Tristan always managed to bring out a mean verbosity in her she didn't know she had. Even worse, he'd seemed to react to what she'd said. His smile faded, and he swallowed, and for a second, he looked strangely vulnerable and hurt and not cat-like at all.
'Oh man. You know, that was harsh' He said after a second. After another few seconds, he added 'Tristan flunks out of the great commit-athon again. I apologise in advance for failing to join in the otherwise-universal wailing and gnashing of teeth from the crowd. Or the big cheers for your crowning as Miss Teen Responsibility, 2002, either. 'Cos you know, I just don't *care*.'
'Can you please just let me go home, Tristan.' Rory said, this time less sternly and more fretfully. To anyone else she'd have apologised, but for Tristan a gentler tone was the best she could summon.
Tristan reclined a little further into the inside of the door jam. 'I wouldn't dream of preventing you.' He said flatly. He didn't move.
'You're infuriating' Rory murmured under her breath. Then she shoved past him angrilly and grabbed hold of the door handle. And somehow, she tripped over his legs, and suddenly she was using the door to prevent herself from crashing to the ground, and then the door swung in on itself and shut with a loud bang.
***
Dean closed his triganometry textbook with a feeling of relief, and a buzz of excitement. It was the familiar buzz of knowing that in a short period of time, he'd get to see Rory Gilmore, that willowy brown-haired girl with the porcelein complexion and the razor sharp wit who even now, several months into their relationship, had no idea how important she was to him. Dean expended huge amounts of energy each day making sure she didn't find out exactly how important.
It was harder during weeks like this one, when he hadn't seen her for five days straight. It was a physical effort on his part to respect her need for space and time to study; to play it cool and call her once every few nights instead of ten times a night, like he wanted to. During the always-too-short half hour he did speak to her, he'd tell her about the soccer game he'd won or the good mark he'd gotten in a test. He'd leave out the part about how she was constantly on his mind during the soccer match, and how all he could think about when he got the test result was whether she'd be pleased.
~God I'm turning into a chump~, he thought to himself ruefully as he stood in front of his bedroom mirror in familiar, well-worn brown cords and blue denim jacket. ~I've got to get this Rory thing into perspective. Just 'cos I have the world's most amazing chick as my girlfriend, doesn't mean I have to obssess about her 24/7 does it? There must be more to life~ And he knew that there was. Before Rory, Dean had been self-possessed, self-contained, sure of himself. The sort of person other people wanted, other people needed. Right now he was clinging to the appearance of being those things, but he didn't feel any of them. And the extend to which he needed Rory worried him.
~Maybe tonight I should ask her what she thinks about us, where we're heading.~ That thought worried him too. But not as much as this limbo of shaken identity. He shook his head, grabbed his wallet and headed out the door to meet her.
a/n: thanks to the very kind folk who reviewed the first chapter. you're right too, this is a ridiculoulsy overused idea, but i've never seen it done how i wanted it done yet. so i'm giving it a go.
**
Rory didn't need to turn around to know, absolutely, to whom that soft but blandly-teasing voice belonged. The knowledge that Tristan was right behind her did have the effect of giving her a seconds pause though. She could feel herself stiffening, and her heels slumping back to the floor as her mind raced away from the shelf in front of her. Then, deliberately, methodically, she reined her focus back in, got back on her toes and finished scanning the shelf. There, in the right corner, was a bunch of uniform silver boxes. Satisfied, Rory dropped the one she was carrying in the pile and then slowly turned around.
The boy slouched lazily against the doorframe cut a sleek and smug figure; he reminded Rory, not for the first time, of a big blonde cat. Beautiful and marmelaide, aloof and predatory, mysterious and concerned only with his own pleasure; Rory was sure Tristan had been feline in another life. Cats were extraordinary creatures but Rory didn't think their characteristics carried over very well to humans. And she was very sure she didn't appreciate feeling like a field mouse caught under a full moon every time she saw him.
'You're blocking my way, Tristan.' she said, an unaccostomed harshness in her voice.
'Well, you're making my day,' he replied immediately. She blinked and then he added, as an afterthought, 'Mary.'
Rory crossed her arms. 'What do you want?' she asked resignedly. She knew her chances of getting a straight answer were zero.
'To create a perfect and spontaneous sonnet with you in the manner of Romeo and Juliet.' Tristan shrugged. He grabbed Rory's hand 'You remember how they go? I'll remind you of the original. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine..."'. Rory snatched her hand back and glared at him. 'Oh well, not today then.' He demured. Then he said 'I'd settle for a quick feel?'
Rory now scowled into his sharp blue eyes and smirking full lips. 'You really don't need me here for this you know. A wall length mirror would do just as well. I've got things to do this afternoon, I'm meeting Dean at 6 o'clock and I have to get home to see my mom first. I have commitments. You just seem to have time to waste yourself in.'
Wow. Rory bit her lip on the last statement as soon as it left her mouth. It had come out so much nastier than she'd intended it to. Tristan always managed to bring out a mean verbosity in her she didn't know she had. Even worse, he'd seemed to react to what she'd said. His smile faded, and he swallowed, and for a second, he looked strangely vulnerable and hurt and not cat-like at all.
'Oh man. You know, that was harsh' He said after a second. After another few seconds, he added 'Tristan flunks out of the great commit-athon again. I apologise in advance for failing to join in the otherwise-universal wailing and gnashing of teeth from the crowd. Or the big cheers for your crowning as Miss Teen Responsibility, 2002, either. 'Cos you know, I just don't *care*.'
'Can you please just let me go home, Tristan.' Rory said, this time less sternly and more fretfully. To anyone else she'd have apologised, but for Tristan a gentler tone was the best she could summon.
Tristan reclined a little further into the inside of the door jam. 'I wouldn't dream of preventing you.' He said flatly. He didn't move.
'You're infuriating' Rory murmured under her breath. Then she shoved past him angrilly and grabbed hold of the door handle. And somehow, she tripped over his legs, and suddenly she was using the door to prevent herself from crashing to the ground, and then the door swung in on itself and shut with a loud bang.
***
Dean closed his triganometry textbook with a feeling of relief, and a buzz of excitement. It was the familiar buzz of knowing that in a short period of time, he'd get to see Rory Gilmore, that willowy brown-haired girl with the porcelein complexion and the razor sharp wit who even now, several months into their relationship, had no idea how important she was to him. Dean expended huge amounts of energy each day making sure she didn't find out exactly how important.
It was harder during weeks like this one, when he hadn't seen her for five days straight. It was a physical effort on his part to respect her need for space and time to study; to play it cool and call her once every few nights instead of ten times a night, like he wanted to. During the always-too-short half hour he did speak to her, he'd tell her about the soccer game he'd won or the good mark he'd gotten in a test. He'd leave out the part about how she was constantly on his mind during the soccer match, and how all he could think about when he got the test result was whether she'd be pleased.
~God I'm turning into a chump~, he thought to himself ruefully as he stood in front of his bedroom mirror in familiar, well-worn brown cords and blue denim jacket. ~I've got to get this Rory thing into perspective. Just 'cos I have the world's most amazing chick as my girlfriend, doesn't mean I have to obssess about her 24/7 does it? There must be more to life~ And he knew that there was. Before Rory, Dean had been self-possessed, self-contained, sure of himself. The sort of person other people wanted, other people needed. Right now he was clinging to the appearance of being those things, but he didn't feel any of them. And the extend to which he needed Rory worried him.
~Maybe tonight I should ask her what she thinks about us, where we're heading.~ That thought worried him too. But not as much as this limbo of shaken identity. He shook his head, grabbed his wallet and headed out the door to meet her.