Author: archangel
E-mail: archangel50210@msn.com
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Trory
CONTENT - domestic abuse
DISCLAIMER - Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB own the characters and the show. All that's mine is this story.
AUTHORS NOTE - This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate any reviews. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please review.
Rory and Tristan sat at a booth inside Starbucks, drinking coffee and talking about military school. "So, Tristan, what's worse? Chilton, Hell, or Military School," Rory asked, grinning over her mug of coffee.
Tristan answered quickly. "Military school. Plus, Chilton's not that bad."
Rory would have dropped her mug if Tristan hadn't reached out his hand to steady it. "Thanks. But, Chilton- not bad. Why is that?"
Tristan looked down at his hands, which just a moment ago had been touching hers. Your here. Of course, Tristan didn't say this aloud, because the friendship was too important to him to take a chance of ruining. "You try waking up at 4:30 AM everyday, even Sundays, doing 200 pushups before breakfast, which, let me tell you, is no better than halfway cooked eggs and a strap of meat that I'm still not sure wasn't road kill. Then, work as if you are in jail with about 50 other men your age who are proud of much more serious crimes than opening a safe. Such as armed robbery. Yes. And they'd brag and do no work so I'd pick up their slack so I wouldn't get beaten. We worked 15 hours a day, with a 10-minute break for lunch and another for dinner. You go through that and tell me Chilton's horrible."
Rory bit her lip. "I'm sorry Tristan. I really am. I didn't know how bad it was. I figured it would be like a gym. I guess I'm kinda sheltered."
Tristan smiled at her reassuringly. "It's okay, Ror. I know you didn't know. But believe me, I'm not saying Chilton's a party. But...it's better than home."
Rory froze, not sure what to say. Should she ask what he meant? Not comment? She opted for the second one. "Uh, so Tris, did you like North Carolina?"
Tristan concentrated on her. "Yeah, I guess so. But I like Connecticut better. North Carolina is always under hurricane watch." He paused, debating how she'd respond to his next words. "Rory, this isn't some pathetic attempt to get you in my room. But... I got you something and I left it at my house. Do you want to come with me to get it?" Tristan held his breath, waiting for her answer. If she agreed, it meant she trusted him. If not... Tristan didn't want to think about it.
Rory thought for a moment. A year ago, Rory wouldn't have even thought about. She would have been scared by Tristan's offer. But it was clear to her they had both grown up. Tristan was more of a gentleman, she more a lady. But...could she trust him? This was Tristan DuGrey, player of Chilton, inviting her to his house. Was he a good enough friend to believe? "Yes," Rory answered her last thought aloud. "Yes, I'll come back. But Tristan, if you try anything, a vital part of your anatomy will be missing."
Tristan grimaced. "Ouch." Then a smirk returned to his face. "In order to do that, Rory, you'd have to see it. How 'bout a deal. You show me yours, I'll show you mine?" He leered at her teasingly.
Rory rolled her eyes at him. "I think I'll just settle for a nice kick to the genitals, thanks."
Tristan grinned. "You wouldn't. Know how I know? You couldn't hurt me. That day I left, the night of the play, you could have, you should have, slapped me for that comment about a kiss. I had no right to say that. But you didn't." Growing serious, he added, "Rory, I'm sorry for every mean thing I ever said or did to you. For now on, I'm strictly your friend and coffee supplier and locker opener, k?"
Rory beamed. "Good, because guess what?" She held up an empty mug. "I'm out of coffee."
Tristan frowned. "That's your sixth cup. Shouldn't you be twitching by now?"
Rory chuckled. "I'm addicted. No coffee makes me twitch." Smiling, she held her cup out to him.
"So, this is where you live. Star's Hollow. This has got to be the smallest town I've ever seen." Tristan looked out his window in awe.
Rory nodded her agreement. "Yeah, it's tiny. But I love it." As Tristan drove past Luke's diner, Rory clapped her hands excitedly. "Stop, stop, stop. Pull over here. Now. This place is vital to my survival."
Tristan did as he was told, looking at the sign on the building. "A hardware store. What do you need? A screwdriver to fix the loose screws in your head?"
Rory frowned. "No, c'mon. I'll show you." Rory grabbed Tristan's hand, pulling him out of the car. She dragged him into the diner. "Luke, Lukey Luke. Where are you. I want coffee. Lukey." Jess walked into the diner. "Geez, Rory. I think the whole town heard you. What kind?"
"My usual, with lots of sugar and cream. Tris, what do you want. Oh yeah, Jess, this is Tristan. Tristan, Jess."
Jess looked Tristan over carefully, the way Luke would. "Why are you here? Why are you with Rory? Have you done anything to her? Don't take advantage of her, do you hear me?"
Tristan laughed. "Yes. Rory and I are friends...from Chilton. I would never hurt her."
Jess nodded. "Good, so you know she's special. And if I hear you did anything to her, you'll be-"
"Please, no more threats on my anatomy today," Tristan begged.
Jess nodded. "You know she has a boyfriend, right?"
"Ah yes, the bagboy. He-who-places-a-bowl-over-his-head-to-cut-his-hair. Yes, I know."
Jess snorted. "You know, Rory. I like this one. He has good taste in people."
Rory frowned. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. I have to go. See you guys tomorrow, k?"
The boys nodded, watching Rory leave.
Tristan watched Jess closely. "You like her."
Jess looked at Tristan. "And you don't?"
Tristan grimaced. "Point taken."
Jess grinned devilishly. "So, what do we do?"
Tristan frowned. "Nothing. Rory's happy. And that's what matters to me. I couldn't make her happy."
Jess laughed. "I could."
"Not like bagboy does."
"I hate that guy."
Tristan smiled sadly. "Me too."
Jess studied him. "So you mean it. You're not going to do anything. You're just going to sit there in agony while Rory tells you about her dates with Dean."
Tristan nodded. "I guess so. If that's what Rory wants."
Jess laughed. "You're crazy, man. I'm going to do something about it."
Tristan met Jess's eyes. "Don't."
Jess smiled. "I already started."
Back home, Tristan sat in the dining room, next to his father. "Tristan, move your elbow. How many times do I have to tell you it's impolite to sit like that. Tristan- stop it now. If you don't-"
Tristan felt a hand against his arm. He turned to the source of the hand. "Father, if you touch me again-"
His father laughed cruelly. "What will you do, Tristan. Call your grandfather. Well, surprise, he's out of the country. And don't you threaten me. I'll do whatever I want to do and you are powerless to stop it." With that, his father hit him again.
Tristan looked across the table to see his little sister, Monique, holding back tears. "It's okay, Monique. It will be alright."
Monique looked up at him. "Of course, Tristan."
A loud crying started and Monique grabbed Joseph, their three-year-old brother. Tristan watched in amazement as his eight year old sister comforted the child. It got him angry. Mother should be doing this, not Monique. It is not Monique's place to worry about Joseph. As if hearing his thought, Mrs. DuGrey turned towards her crying child, and said to Monique, "Girl, make the brat stop. The weeping is ringing in my ears. What do children expect. We feed them, we shelter them, we give them money to buy their things, we hire the best nannies, what else is expected?" She continued her rant and when the child did not stop crying, she hit Monique on the leg. "Stop the child."
Soon, Joseph stopped crying. Tristan checked his watch. "May I be excused?"
Mr. DuGrey narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Because I need to warm a bottle for Christa," he said, speaking about his older sister's daughter.
"Fine, go, but don't come back." And suddenly, Tristan noticed just how good that sounded.
E-mail: archangel50210@msn.com
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Trory
CONTENT - domestic abuse
DISCLAIMER - Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB own the characters and the show. All that's mine is this story.
AUTHORS NOTE - This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate any reviews. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please review.
Rory and Tristan sat at a booth inside Starbucks, drinking coffee and talking about military school. "So, Tristan, what's worse? Chilton, Hell, or Military School," Rory asked, grinning over her mug of coffee.
Tristan answered quickly. "Military school. Plus, Chilton's not that bad."
Rory would have dropped her mug if Tristan hadn't reached out his hand to steady it. "Thanks. But, Chilton- not bad. Why is that?"
Tristan looked down at his hands, which just a moment ago had been touching hers. Your here. Of course, Tristan didn't say this aloud, because the friendship was too important to him to take a chance of ruining. "You try waking up at 4:30 AM everyday, even Sundays, doing 200 pushups before breakfast, which, let me tell you, is no better than halfway cooked eggs and a strap of meat that I'm still not sure wasn't road kill. Then, work as if you are in jail with about 50 other men your age who are proud of much more serious crimes than opening a safe. Such as armed robbery. Yes. And they'd brag and do no work so I'd pick up their slack so I wouldn't get beaten. We worked 15 hours a day, with a 10-minute break for lunch and another for dinner. You go through that and tell me Chilton's horrible."
Rory bit her lip. "I'm sorry Tristan. I really am. I didn't know how bad it was. I figured it would be like a gym. I guess I'm kinda sheltered."
Tristan smiled at her reassuringly. "It's okay, Ror. I know you didn't know. But believe me, I'm not saying Chilton's a party. But...it's better than home."
Rory froze, not sure what to say. Should she ask what he meant? Not comment? She opted for the second one. "Uh, so Tris, did you like North Carolina?"
Tristan concentrated on her. "Yeah, I guess so. But I like Connecticut better. North Carolina is always under hurricane watch." He paused, debating how she'd respond to his next words. "Rory, this isn't some pathetic attempt to get you in my room. But... I got you something and I left it at my house. Do you want to come with me to get it?" Tristan held his breath, waiting for her answer. If she agreed, it meant she trusted him. If not... Tristan didn't want to think about it.
Rory thought for a moment. A year ago, Rory wouldn't have even thought about. She would have been scared by Tristan's offer. But it was clear to her they had both grown up. Tristan was more of a gentleman, she more a lady. But...could she trust him? This was Tristan DuGrey, player of Chilton, inviting her to his house. Was he a good enough friend to believe? "Yes," Rory answered her last thought aloud. "Yes, I'll come back. But Tristan, if you try anything, a vital part of your anatomy will be missing."
Tristan grimaced. "Ouch." Then a smirk returned to his face. "In order to do that, Rory, you'd have to see it. How 'bout a deal. You show me yours, I'll show you mine?" He leered at her teasingly.
Rory rolled her eyes at him. "I think I'll just settle for a nice kick to the genitals, thanks."
Tristan grinned. "You wouldn't. Know how I know? You couldn't hurt me. That day I left, the night of the play, you could have, you should have, slapped me for that comment about a kiss. I had no right to say that. But you didn't." Growing serious, he added, "Rory, I'm sorry for every mean thing I ever said or did to you. For now on, I'm strictly your friend and coffee supplier and locker opener, k?"
Rory beamed. "Good, because guess what?" She held up an empty mug. "I'm out of coffee."
Tristan frowned. "That's your sixth cup. Shouldn't you be twitching by now?"
Rory chuckled. "I'm addicted. No coffee makes me twitch." Smiling, she held her cup out to him.
"So, this is where you live. Star's Hollow. This has got to be the smallest town I've ever seen." Tristan looked out his window in awe.
Rory nodded her agreement. "Yeah, it's tiny. But I love it." As Tristan drove past Luke's diner, Rory clapped her hands excitedly. "Stop, stop, stop. Pull over here. Now. This place is vital to my survival."
Tristan did as he was told, looking at the sign on the building. "A hardware store. What do you need? A screwdriver to fix the loose screws in your head?"
Rory frowned. "No, c'mon. I'll show you." Rory grabbed Tristan's hand, pulling him out of the car. She dragged him into the diner. "Luke, Lukey Luke. Where are you. I want coffee. Lukey." Jess walked into the diner. "Geez, Rory. I think the whole town heard you. What kind?"
"My usual, with lots of sugar and cream. Tris, what do you want. Oh yeah, Jess, this is Tristan. Tristan, Jess."
Jess looked Tristan over carefully, the way Luke would. "Why are you here? Why are you with Rory? Have you done anything to her? Don't take advantage of her, do you hear me?"
Tristan laughed. "Yes. Rory and I are friends...from Chilton. I would never hurt her."
Jess nodded. "Good, so you know she's special. And if I hear you did anything to her, you'll be-"
"Please, no more threats on my anatomy today," Tristan begged.
Jess nodded. "You know she has a boyfriend, right?"
"Ah yes, the bagboy. He-who-places-a-bowl-over-his-head-to-cut-his-hair. Yes, I know."
Jess snorted. "You know, Rory. I like this one. He has good taste in people."
Rory frowned. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. I have to go. See you guys tomorrow, k?"
The boys nodded, watching Rory leave.
Tristan watched Jess closely. "You like her."
Jess looked at Tristan. "And you don't?"
Tristan grimaced. "Point taken."
Jess grinned devilishly. "So, what do we do?"
Tristan frowned. "Nothing. Rory's happy. And that's what matters to me. I couldn't make her happy."
Jess laughed. "I could."
"Not like bagboy does."
"I hate that guy."
Tristan smiled sadly. "Me too."
Jess studied him. "So you mean it. You're not going to do anything. You're just going to sit there in agony while Rory tells you about her dates with Dean."
Tristan nodded. "I guess so. If that's what Rory wants."
Jess laughed. "You're crazy, man. I'm going to do something about it."
Tristan met Jess's eyes. "Don't."
Jess smiled. "I already started."
Back home, Tristan sat in the dining room, next to his father. "Tristan, move your elbow. How many times do I have to tell you it's impolite to sit like that. Tristan- stop it now. If you don't-"
Tristan felt a hand against his arm. He turned to the source of the hand. "Father, if you touch me again-"
His father laughed cruelly. "What will you do, Tristan. Call your grandfather. Well, surprise, he's out of the country. And don't you threaten me. I'll do whatever I want to do and you are powerless to stop it." With that, his father hit him again.
Tristan looked across the table to see his little sister, Monique, holding back tears. "It's okay, Monique. It will be alright."
Monique looked up at him. "Of course, Tristan."
A loud crying started and Monique grabbed Joseph, their three-year-old brother. Tristan watched in amazement as his eight year old sister comforted the child. It got him angry. Mother should be doing this, not Monique. It is not Monique's place to worry about Joseph. As if hearing his thought, Mrs. DuGrey turned towards her crying child, and said to Monique, "Girl, make the brat stop. The weeping is ringing in my ears. What do children expect. We feed them, we shelter them, we give them money to buy their things, we hire the best nannies, what else is expected?" She continued her rant and when the child did not stop crying, she hit Monique on the leg. "Stop the child."
Soon, Joseph stopped crying. Tristan checked his watch. "May I be excused?"
Mr. DuGrey narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Because I need to warm a bottle for Christa," he said, speaking about his older sister's daughter.
"Fine, go, but don't come back." And suddenly, Tristan noticed just how good that sounded.