Note to readers: I will not be recapping the previous chapters as I go, so
if you've forgotten the storyline, then the drop menu is your friend, and I
would recommend that you take a quick look at the last chapter to refresh
your memory of just what the gosh-darn-heck was going on.
Tristan followed Rory across the yard to the Jeep, a slight smile touching his mouth. When she leaned down to unlock the door, he came up behind her, resting a hand on the car door on either side of her waist, so that she was trapped possessively between the car and his chest, their bodies almost touching. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear.
"You own something leopard print? Gotta say, Rory, I didn't think you had it in you." Rory froze at the low, intense sound of his voice, his warm breath brushing the back of her neck, his lips a few millimeters from her ear. A tingle ran down her spine as she planted a smack across his chest with the back of her hand.
"Give it up, Tristan." She caught a glimpse of his face as she turned and pushed her way out of his arms. The satisfaction at his ability to make her lose her breath was evident in his laughing eyes and the slow smile playing across his mouth.
"Oh, but it's so much fun." He protested as he stepped into the passenger seat. "Watching you squirm, I mean." Rory shot him an exasperated look.
"You want to watch that ego, Tristan. I'd hate to have you trapped forever in my car because your head is to big to fit out the door." She carefully kept her gaze away from him as she swung the car out of the driveway and onto the street.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"So who is this Michel?" Tristan's voice broke the quiet of the car. They were about halfway to the Inn, and thus far the ride had been silent. Rory glanced at him briefly, then returned her eyes to the road.
"Michel is the concierge at the Inn where my mom works. Probably the rudest guy you'll ever meet. But lovable." Tristan lifted an eyebrow.
"Lovable." Rory shrugged.
"You kind of have to meet him." Tristan looked out the window, watching the scenery go by and every so often glancing out of the corner of his eye at Rory. Okay, more like every ten seconds. He couldn't help it. Here, in this atmosphere, outside of Chilton, she shone. Not that she didn't shine in school. Because she did. But anyone could see that she didn't belong there among the rich snobs and trophy-wives-to-be. Here, in her own world, was where she belonged.
After about fifteen minutes, Rory made a right turn and pulled into the executive parking lot behind the Inn, with spaces only for Lorelai, Michel, Sookie, and the rest of the Inn staff. She parked and stepped onto the asphalt, shielding her eyes against the brilliant sun and waiting for Tristan to get out.
The sun reflected off his blonde hair and caught the features of his face, highlighting his cheekbones and jaw. Rory couldn't help but admire the fine lines of his face. Before she could look away, Tristan turned his head and caught her. She turned quickly, but not before she saw a broad, lazy grin begin to spread across his face. Inwardly smacking herself, Rory began to walk quickly toward the double doors of the Inn. After a moment she heard Tristan quicken his pace to catch up.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"This is beautiful." Tristan stepped into the Inn's lobby and glanced around admiringly. Rory nodded.
"Yeah, the interior decorater was really good. He had a weird thing for colors, though. He spent a week trying to convince us to paint the dining room purple. But once we got past that he turned out to be okay." She walked to the front desk and rested her elbows on it, cupping her chin in her hands. "Hey, Michel." The concierge glanced up from his computer.
"Good afternoon. And who is this?" His tone, still customarily frosty, held the tiniest twinge of interest.
"Michel, this is Tristan Dugrey, a friend from school. Tristan, this is Michel."
"Nice to meet you." Tristan held out a hand, and, after a few seconds, Michel reluctantly shook it, surveying Tristan from head to foot.
"And how are you today, Mr. Dugrey?" Rory leaned over and whispered in Tristan's ear.
"Say something depressing. He'll love you." Tristan quirked an eyebrow at her, a mischevious grin touching his mouth and making him look exactly like a little kid about to drop a worm down the back of someone's shirt. He turned to face Michel.
"I'm great, thank you. Lovely weather." Michel's face quickly rearranged itself into a frown.
"How delightful," he said in a tone which signified the deepest in disappointment. "Excuse me." He picked up the phone. "Hello, Independence Inn. This is Michel speaking. No, I'm sorry, we are booked." Rory turned to Tristan as Michel argued with the would-be client.
"Why didn't you say something sad? Now he hates you." Tristan shrugged.
"I wanted to see what would happen." Rory smiled.
"You were one of those kids who jumped off roofs to see what would happen, weren't you?" Tristan put on a mock-offended expression.
"I did not jump off the roof. I jumped off the garage. I had aspirations of flight." Rory lifted an eyebrow curiously.
"So how'd it go?" Tristan answered defensively.
"Hey, if I'd had another ten feet, I would've at least made it to the end of the driveway. As it was, I busted my wrist and couldn't play soccer or baseball all season." Rory couldn't help it, she was smiling at the thought of a younger Tristan leaping off the garage with hopes of becoming airborne.
Then Michel interrupted, putting down the phone and turning to Rory.
"Where is your mother?" Tristan watched in amusement as Rory's face went blatantly confused.
"My mother?" She asked innocently. "Why would my mother be here?" Michel's face took on a serious and forbidding expression.
"You mean she did not come? I explicitly requested her presence." Rory leaned forward, whispering companionably to Michel.
"Ah, but see, you didn't ask for her explicitly. You asked for Lorelai. So-" She flashed a brilliant smile, aware of Tristan watching her. "Here I am." Michel seemed quite unable to express his rage.
"Sookie!" The plump, cheerful cook popped her head out of the kitchen. She spotted Rory.
"Hi, Rory! Where's your mom?' Michel stormed out from behind the desk.
"See! This is what I would like to know. Sookie, speak to her." Rory shrugged.
"He asked for Lorelai." She said in explanation. Sookie's expression turned sympathetic.
"She's still studying for that test, huh?"
"Yep. And death to all who interrupt." She said pointedly. Michel threw up his hands, shooting glares at Tristan, Rory, Sookie, and three guests in the near vincinity.
"I give up." He returned to his desk and began to talk on the phone in rapid french. Tristan caught Rory's gaze, smirking.
"Lovable, huh?" Sookie's gaze swung to him.
"So Rory, this is Tristan?" Tristan's jaw dropped.
"How did you-" Sookie waved off his question airily.
"I heard it from Jackson, who heard it from Kirk, who heard it from Patty, who heard it from Luke, who heard it from Taylor, who allegedly saw you with his own eyes, but that's only a rumour, and when it goes through Luke, Patty, Kirk, and Jackson, you never know." Tristan stared at her, mouth open.
"You're not kidding, are you?" Rory provided a two-word explanation.
"Gossip circle. So why did Michel want Mom?" Sookie rolled her eyes.
"Small fire in the kitchen. No, no, honey I'm fine-" She said as a look of concern crossed Rory' face. "Small fire. Extremely small fire. Teeny weeney little fire. It's all taken care of now. Sorry you got dragged all the way out here." Rory smiled.
"Hey, she promised to give back the leopard print top with the sparkly straps. And wash it." Sookie looked at Rory questioningly.
"That's yours?" Rory threw up her hands in exasperation.
"Why is everyone so surprised to hear that?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"No. Way." Rory crossed her arms and shook her head. Tristan sighed in exasperation.
"Come on, Rory! It's a great movie."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't want to." Tristan sighed melodramatically.
"I am not backing down until you give me a good reason." Rory rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Don't back down. Just stand there and be stubborn. I'll find a different one." She turned and examined a different shelf. Tristan watched her suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.
"You don't like scary movies, do you?" Rory turned.
"I do not not like scary movies." Tristan held up four discarded boxes.
"These are all good, and you shot down all of them. Because they're scary." Rory huffed.
"That....that is not true. I just don't want to watch them." Tristan smirked.
"Admit it, Rory. I blew your cover." Rory's eyes flashed.
"Fine. I'll call my mom. If she wants to watch it, we'll get it." She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed, glaring at Tristan.
"Mom?"
"Hey, kid. You guys done yet?"
"We're having a slight problem." Tristan mouthed 'slight problem?' and lifted an eyebrow skeptically. Rory glared at him. "We can't decided which movie to get. He wants a scary one."
"Oooh, that's it, death by fire."
"Mom." Rory couldn't help but smile at her mother's voice.
"Come on! We could make s'mores!"
"Just tell him the error of his ways, please."
"Okay, let me talk to him. I'll explain the strict Gilmore Movie Night code." Rory handed the phone to Tristan, smirking in triumph.
"Lorelai?"
"Hi there, Tristan. You remember our nookie rules? Good. Now, since you're such a quick learner, we've progressed to the Movie-Night rules." Tristan swallowed, in remembrance of the earlier discussion. He interrupted Lorelai before she could start listing the Gilmore regulations.
"Uh, I do remember our other conversation, but I have a very convincing and persuasive argument for my cause." Lorelai's voice was intrigued.
"Knock yourself out."
"Yeah. It has-" Tristan flipped the box over and scanned the credits. "Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, and Antonio Banderas." There was a long silence. Then Lorelai spoke.
"I'll make the popcorn. Hurry up." Tristan closed the phone with a satisfied click, turning to smirk at Rory, who narrowed her eyes at him.
"I will get you for this, Dugrey." Tristan kept smirking.
"I'm sure you will." He dangled the box for the video 'Interview with a Vampire' over her head. "Now, let's go watch this movie."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"I can't believe you made me watch this." Lorelai's voice was muffled, as her face was buried in her daughter's shoulder. She peeked between her fingers and glanced at the screen, quickly hiding her face again. Rory popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, patting the top of her mother's head absentmindedly.
"Hey, no objections here. More Brad and Tom for me." Lorelai sat up slightly, glaring at her daughter.
"What happened to Miss I-hate-scary-movies? This is the kid who ran out screaming from The Little Mermaid when she was six!"
"Ursula was scary!" Rory said defensively.
"You couldn't look at a fish for weeks without bursting into tears."
"Shhh. This is a good part." Tristan said, eyes fastened to the screen. Automatically, both Rory and Lorelai stopped arguing, turning to look at the screen. A second later Lorelai hid her face in a pillow.
"Oh my god, that is so sick!" Rory leaned forward, looking interested.
"Is that even possible? Could someone theoretically suck someone else's blood out through their-"
"That's it, I'm going to go to bed. Night kiddies." Lorelai jumped up and planted a kiss on Rory's forehead, hurrying toward the stairs. Rory called after her.
"Get more of those weird, sour marshmallows before you go up." Lorelai made a quick detour into the kitchen and tossed the bag of junk food in Rory's general direction.
"See you in the morning, kiddies. Don't stay up too late. And, Tristan-" He looked up apprehensively. Lorelai smirked, showing way too many teeth for Tristan's taste.
"Be good." Tristan held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.
"Goodnight, Lorelai." Rory watched the interacted with confusion, deciding not to pursue the subject.
"Night Mom." She blew a kiss to Lorelai and turned back to the screen. Tristan looked at her sideways, slightly thrown by her obvious interest in the gory movie.
"You actually like this, don't you?" Rory shrugged.
"Yeah, I do. Disappointed?"
"Surprised." The two of them leaned back against the couch, surprisingly comfortable in each other's presence. Rory reflected silently on the past few hours. They had walked around the grounds at the Inn and had skimmed through the easy questions in the pamphlet for school. She had discovered that Tristan's favorite color was dark blue, his favorite movie was To Kill a Mockingbird, his favorite actor was Benecio Del Toro, and he loved Mexican food. His favorite subject was English, and his favorite book was The Mosquito Coast, by Paul Theroux. His birthday was September ninth, and his favorite band was Matchbox Twenty. They'd avoided the deeper, more meaningful questions in the pamphlet. Which meant that tomorrow was going to be a lot more difficult than today. Rory sighed and settled back against the pillows. And she wasn't even going to be on her own turf.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tristan opened his eyes sleepily. He shifted slightly, blinking as he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering where the hell he was. His eyes traveled over the unfamiliar room, and then it hit him-he was at Rory's house. But they had been watching a movie...hurriedly, Tristan glanced at his watch. The small digital numbers glowed in the dark, showing that it was one-seventeen in the morning. We must have fallen asleep, he thought, instinctively looking around for Rory. A smile touched his lips when his gaze landed on her, curled in a ball on the sofa, sound asleep. Her hair falling over her delicate face, relaxed peacefully in sleep.
Sitting up with a slight groan, the result of sleeping for three hours on the, while carpeted, still unforgiving Gilmore floor, Tristan climbed to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. He almost tripped over his duffle bag, still lying on the floor next to the sofa. As he leaned down to pick it up, his chin brushed Rory's hair, falling over the arm rest of the sofa. Silently, he straightened, and spent a few minutes just watching her sleep. Her eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows on her pale skin. Releasing his breath in a soft sigh, Tristan leaned over Rory to pull down the blanket draped over the back of the sofa. He unfolded it and gently spread it over Rory's small frame. She shifted slightly in sleep but otherwise remained quiet, a small, contented smile curving over her mouth. Tristan brushed her long, honey-brown hair away from her face, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin and causing him to swallow at the light contact. Quickly, he took his hands away from her face and turned away.
Straightening, Tristan surveyed the room for somewhere suitable to sleep, since his designated bed was currently occupied. The chair by the window had possibilities, but on second thought he didn't think it would be beneficial to his health to be found by Lorelai asleep in the same room as her daughter. The whole town would probably know by ten o'clock, thanks to the gossip circle. I wonder if it's an official organization. With badges. Shaking his head, Tristan walked into the kitchen and resigned himself to a most likely incredibly uncomfortable night upright in a wooden chair. Since the other option is probably castration by Lorelai Gilmore and her minions, I don't have much choice. He would also probably get more sleep, he admitted silently, if he wasn't lying fifteen feet away from Rory Gilmore. Falling into a chair, Tristan pulled his t-shirt over his head and stuffed it into his bag, settingly for a night in a wife beater and jeans. Folding his arms on the table, he put his head in them and was almost instantly asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Lorelai Gilmore padded softly down the stairs early Sunday morning. Too early, she thought fuzzily. Damn alarmclock. Purred an hour too soon. Trying not to trip over her long, cotten pajama pants and ratty bathrobe, Lorelai glanced into the livingroom on her way through to the kitchen and was indignant to see, by the first rays of dawn peeking through the window, her daughter, curled up on the sofa and covered in a blanket. Why that little-! Lorelai padded furiously over to the sofa, opening her mouth to yell, and closing it when she realized that Rory was alone on the sofa. Tristan's bag was also missing from the floor. Lorelai surveyed the rest of the room. No Tristan. Curious, Lorelai tip-toed into the kitchen.
She folded her arms and smiled in spite of herself when she saw Tristan asleep at the kitchen table, his golden, messily spiked head resting on tanned arms. He looks so much younger asleep, Lorelai reflected absently. Silently, she padded around him and began to make coffee. At the sound of opening cabinets and bubbling liquid, Tristan's golden lashes flickered, slowly opening on sleepy, charcoal blue eyes. Lorelai sat down opposite him, sipping a cup of coffee as Tristan blinked several times and slowly sat up with a barely audible groan, touching the back of his neck. Lorelai watched him over the brim of her coffee mug.
"Yeah, that's what happens when you spend a night at the kitchen table, in the most uncomfortable sleeping position known to man. I know. I've done it." She waited for his still half-closed eyes to focus on her. Then she smiled sweetly. "Morning, Tristan." The smile turned to a smirk as she watched him open and close his mouth, unable to form a sentence. Finally-
"I need coffee." Lorelai smiled and patted his head.
"Thatsa boy." She placed a full mug in front of him. "So, tell me Tristan, how is it that you wound up asleep at my kitchen table while my daughter sleeps in your designated bed?" Tristan swallowed his sip of coffee quickly. He watched Lorelai carefully as he spoke, ready to retreat at the sight of a sharp object.
"I think we fell asleep watching the movie. I, uh, woke up at about a quarter after one and Rory was asleep on the couch. I didn't want to wake her up, so I left her there and came to sleep in here-" Lorelai nodded.
"In, I repeat, the most uncomfortable position known to man." She surveyed Tristan carefully, eyes narrowed. He swallowed nervously.
"No nookie, swear to God." Lorelai smirked at his expression in spite of herself.
"It was nice of you to sleep in here. A lot of guys wouldn't have done that." Tristan shrugged, replying without thinking.
"It was more of an act of self-preservation." Lorelai smiled.
"Darn straight. I could sic Luke on you. Or Morey. Oooh! Or Kirk. Kirk would be fun. Although he may not be up to it, seeing as you don't have floppy hair-" She paused, noticing that Tristan was looking at her very strangely. "Sorry."
"No, no. Go ahead. Laugh at my misery. I don't mind."
"Thank you. More coffee?'
"Yeah, thanks." Lorelai refilled his cup and resumed her seat opposite him. When she spoke, her tone had changed from amused to serious and slightly hesistant.
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Tristan looked up sharply. He examined Lorelai's face for any indication of her intentions, but her expression showed nothing. Warily, he shrugged.
"Ask away." Lorelai looked down into her coffee mug, and then back up into the face of the young man seated opposite her.
"How long have you been in love with Rory?" The effect was as if someone had thrown a door closed over Tristan's face and slammed the bolts home. His expression was closed and carefully controlled. For several minutes, the two stared at each other. Tristan's mind was racing skittishly from one thought to another, though his face showed nothing.
Ohgodshe'sgoingtokillmehowcouldshetell?wasitreallythatobvious?Iamsodead- In a way it was easier than if she'd simply asked him if he was in love with Rory. To that he would almost certainly have said that no, he was not in love with Rory, that he was merely a friend. But to have the secret he had kept even from himself for months spoken openly across a room, flowing from the lips of one to the ears and heart of another produced vast sense of relief. Lorelai wasn't asking him to deny or confirm anything. She had done for him. His words were whispered, but still audible in the silent room.
"From the moment I saw her." He looked up and met Lorelai's eyes. "From the instant I walked into class late and I saw her sitting in the front row with her hair tucked behind her ears. I was in love with her before I could blink." His voice fell into silence as he wonderingly contemplated what he had just admitted. "I never even had a chance."
Lorelai laughed.
"She's a Gilmore. A Lorelai Gilmore, for that matter. One of the few. What did you expect?"
"I didn't expect to be won over so effortlessly." Lorelai smiled.
"Well, if you're going to be hanging out here, you better get used to it, pally. And if you think we're bad, wait until you meet my mother." Tristan smiled, looking hesistantly across the table at Lorelai. His voice was light and slightly embarrassed.
"How did you know? I mean, not that it's really important, but it kind of bothers me to think that my actions are so easily read. Particularly by someone who's only known me for about twenty-four hours. " Lorelai shrugged.
"It's my psychic ability. Runs in the family." Tristan looked skeptical. Lorelai sighed melodramatically. "Look, Tristan, I know that you're the big man on campus. Golden boy, heir to the empire, ladies man, most skillful player in the game. It practically oozes from your pores. Which, I hate to say, was your undoing." Tristan lifted an eyebrow.
"My undoing?" Lorelai waved her hands, impatient to get back to the explanation.
"Your undoing. Your downfall. The straw that broke the camel's back. Et cetera. Now, Mr. Skeptical, may I continue?" Tristan motioned for her to go on, lifting his hands in a gesture of mock-innocence. "You know the expression, 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall?'"
"I'm only six feet tall." Lorelai glared at him.
"Are you going to keep doing that? I'm trying to be metaphorical here."
"Sorry."
"The point is, you're not used to developing emotions toward people. You've filled your life with shallow friendship and meaningless relationships. Make-believe. You're so used to being shallow that the first time that you feel something real, it shows in your every touch, your every glance. It may as well bee written across your forehead." Tristan was silent for a minute, thinking about Lorelai's words.
"So can I ask you a qustion now? You know, payback, and all that?" Lorelai shrugged.
"Fire away."
"Why are you living in Stars Hollow? Why didn't you inherit the Gilmore Estate?" He watched her face carefully as he asked. Lorelai smiled ironically.
"My parents disowned me after I refused to abort Rory or at least marry Christopher. I don't think I would have wanted it anyway."
"Why not?" Lorelai sighed, eyes distant, drifting in the past.
"Too many memories. No air. No room to become anything more than Lorelai Gilmore, heir to the Gilmore fortune, owner of everything a little girl could want." Tristan contemplated her words. They hit a little too close to home for comfort. Tristran changed the subject.
"You know what you said earlier? About my emotions being written on my forehead?" Lorelai nodded. Tristan swallowed. "If it's so obvious, why hasn't Rory seen it?" Lorelai smiled.
"My daughter, while she is the joy of my life, is completely blind when it comes to herself. Sucks for you."
"Thanks for your compassion." Lorelai shrugged.
"No problem." Tristan stared into his coffee cup for a few minutes, and when he spoke again, his voice was very hesistant.
"Lorelai?" She looked at him.
"Thanks for your compassion." This time, the words spoken so sarcastically a few minutes before held a note of sincerity and shy gratitude. The words of a boy who didn't quite know how to express his appreciation. Lorelai smiled softly.
"No problem." She paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask one more question. "Tristan?"
"Yeah?" Lorelai grinned, eyes sparkling.
"Do you have a motorcycle?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"You realize that Rory is going to be completely mortified when she wakes up, right?" Tristan looked up from his pop tart. They had been chatting now for over an hour, waiting for Rory to wake up.
"So if I have any big favors to ask her, now's the time, huh?" Lorelai shrugged.
"Yeah, big favors, ugly confessions, et cetera. I'll bet you five bucks that the first words out of her mouth when she comes in here are 'I'm so embarrassed.'" Tristan narrowed his eyes.
"You're on." They shook on it and went back to their pop tarts.
"I need your phone number and address, in case there's any big emergency like I get kidnapped or hijacked or trampled by an elephant or coffee prices rise." Lorelai pushed a scrap of paper and pen across to Tristan, who lifted an eyebrow as he wrote down his cell phone number.
"You think the elephant will let you make a phone call?" Lorelai stood up and put her dishes in the sink.
"Oooh, funny, funny boy." They both looked up at the sound of bare feet coming down the hall. Rory stood in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, tousle- haired, and looking confused. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Rory scowled at her mother, dropping into a chair at the table.
"Okay, someone clue me in. I wake up on the sofa, still wearing what I wore yesterday, come in here, and not only find my mother awake before nine o'clock on a Sunday, which would be apocalyptic by itself, but find her chatting with the guy who was supposed to be sleeping on the sofa." Tristan lifted an eyebrow at Lorelai. Scowling, she left the room and reappeared a few moments later, sliding a five dollar bill across the table to Tristan, who pocketed it, smirking. Rory watched suspiciously.
"Why did you just give Tristan five dollars?" Lorelai poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of Rory.
"No reason. How was the rest of the movie?" Lorelai asked innocently. Rory tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I don't remember...maybe I fell-" Her eyes caught Tristan's, and suddenly she understood.
"I fell asleep." She said slowly. Tristan nodded. "On the sofa." He nodded again, this time with a touch of a smile at the look of dawning comprehension on Rory's face. "And you, you fell asleep-"
"-on the floor." Tristan finished. Rory winced inwardly. She'd fallen asleep on the floor during a few movie nights herself, and it wasn't fun.
"So you spent the whole night on the floor?" Lorelai jumped in.
"Nope. It gets better. He woke up at one and, instead of waking you up, he quite gallantly relinquished his bed to you and came to sleep in here. At great personal discomfort. In a chair. At the table. With his head on his arms." Rory cringed.
"No need to lay it on so thick." Her cheeks began to flush with embarrassment. She turned to look at Tristan. "Why didn't you just wake me up? Now I feel guilty." Tristan shrugged, hiding his smile at her half- embarrassed, half-accusing look.
"You looked comfortable." He said casually. Rory glared at him.
"If you hadn't convinced me yesterday that you're actually a halfway- decent person, I would accuse you of planning this to make me feel indebted to you." Tristan placed a hand over his heart in mock-indignation.
"I'm wounded, Mary. May I remind you that I spent the night in 'great personal discomfort', I think it was?" He looked at Lorelai for confirmation. She nodded.
"Yep. Great personal discomfort." Rory looked back and forth between the two faces and dropped her own into her hands.
"It's too early for this." Her voice was muffled. Tristan looked at her for a few moments. Her hair was adorably tousled, her cheeks still sleep-flushed.
"Can I use your shower?" Lorelai waved him away.
"Towels under the sink. Move the bras and stockings off the drying rack before you turn on the water or they'll get wet and we'll make you wash them." Tristan's eyes widened.
"Noted." He disappeared into the bathroom, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Rory stood up to refill her coffee mug and grab a pop-tart from the plate by the toaster. She returned to the table and eyed her mother warily.
"So what were you two getting so cozy about?" Lorelai grinned.
"Touche. Nothing interesting." Rory looked at her doubtfully, then sighed.
"I hate it when he does that. He's such a conceited brat at school, and then he pulls a stunt like this and makes me feel incredibly guilty for ever thinking of him as a jerk." Lorelai slung an arm around her daughter's shoulders and whispered conspiratorily.
"Yeah, but guess what?" Rory looked at her questioningly. An excited smirk spread across Lorelai's face. "He has a motorcycle!"
To Be Continued...
Tristan followed Rory across the yard to the Jeep, a slight smile touching his mouth. When she leaned down to unlock the door, he came up behind her, resting a hand on the car door on either side of her waist, so that she was trapped possessively between the car and his chest, their bodies almost touching. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear.
"You own something leopard print? Gotta say, Rory, I didn't think you had it in you." Rory froze at the low, intense sound of his voice, his warm breath brushing the back of her neck, his lips a few millimeters from her ear. A tingle ran down her spine as she planted a smack across his chest with the back of her hand.
"Give it up, Tristan." She caught a glimpse of his face as she turned and pushed her way out of his arms. The satisfaction at his ability to make her lose her breath was evident in his laughing eyes and the slow smile playing across his mouth.
"Oh, but it's so much fun." He protested as he stepped into the passenger seat. "Watching you squirm, I mean." Rory shot him an exasperated look.
"You want to watch that ego, Tristan. I'd hate to have you trapped forever in my car because your head is to big to fit out the door." She carefully kept her gaze away from him as she swung the car out of the driveway and onto the street.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"So who is this Michel?" Tristan's voice broke the quiet of the car. They were about halfway to the Inn, and thus far the ride had been silent. Rory glanced at him briefly, then returned her eyes to the road.
"Michel is the concierge at the Inn where my mom works. Probably the rudest guy you'll ever meet. But lovable." Tristan lifted an eyebrow.
"Lovable." Rory shrugged.
"You kind of have to meet him." Tristan looked out the window, watching the scenery go by and every so often glancing out of the corner of his eye at Rory. Okay, more like every ten seconds. He couldn't help it. Here, in this atmosphere, outside of Chilton, she shone. Not that she didn't shine in school. Because she did. But anyone could see that she didn't belong there among the rich snobs and trophy-wives-to-be. Here, in her own world, was where she belonged.
After about fifteen minutes, Rory made a right turn and pulled into the executive parking lot behind the Inn, with spaces only for Lorelai, Michel, Sookie, and the rest of the Inn staff. She parked and stepped onto the asphalt, shielding her eyes against the brilliant sun and waiting for Tristan to get out.
The sun reflected off his blonde hair and caught the features of his face, highlighting his cheekbones and jaw. Rory couldn't help but admire the fine lines of his face. Before she could look away, Tristan turned his head and caught her. She turned quickly, but not before she saw a broad, lazy grin begin to spread across his face. Inwardly smacking herself, Rory began to walk quickly toward the double doors of the Inn. After a moment she heard Tristan quicken his pace to catch up.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"This is beautiful." Tristan stepped into the Inn's lobby and glanced around admiringly. Rory nodded.
"Yeah, the interior decorater was really good. He had a weird thing for colors, though. He spent a week trying to convince us to paint the dining room purple. But once we got past that he turned out to be okay." She walked to the front desk and rested her elbows on it, cupping her chin in her hands. "Hey, Michel." The concierge glanced up from his computer.
"Good afternoon. And who is this?" His tone, still customarily frosty, held the tiniest twinge of interest.
"Michel, this is Tristan Dugrey, a friend from school. Tristan, this is Michel."
"Nice to meet you." Tristan held out a hand, and, after a few seconds, Michel reluctantly shook it, surveying Tristan from head to foot.
"And how are you today, Mr. Dugrey?" Rory leaned over and whispered in Tristan's ear.
"Say something depressing. He'll love you." Tristan quirked an eyebrow at her, a mischevious grin touching his mouth and making him look exactly like a little kid about to drop a worm down the back of someone's shirt. He turned to face Michel.
"I'm great, thank you. Lovely weather." Michel's face quickly rearranged itself into a frown.
"How delightful," he said in a tone which signified the deepest in disappointment. "Excuse me." He picked up the phone. "Hello, Independence Inn. This is Michel speaking. No, I'm sorry, we are booked." Rory turned to Tristan as Michel argued with the would-be client.
"Why didn't you say something sad? Now he hates you." Tristan shrugged.
"I wanted to see what would happen." Rory smiled.
"You were one of those kids who jumped off roofs to see what would happen, weren't you?" Tristan put on a mock-offended expression.
"I did not jump off the roof. I jumped off the garage. I had aspirations of flight." Rory lifted an eyebrow curiously.
"So how'd it go?" Tristan answered defensively.
"Hey, if I'd had another ten feet, I would've at least made it to the end of the driveway. As it was, I busted my wrist and couldn't play soccer or baseball all season." Rory couldn't help it, she was smiling at the thought of a younger Tristan leaping off the garage with hopes of becoming airborne.
Then Michel interrupted, putting down the phone and turning to Rory.
"Where is your mother?" Tristan watched in amusement as Rory's face went blatantly confused.
"My mother?" She asked innocently. "Why would my mother be here?" Michel's face took on a serious and forbidding expression.
"You mean she did not come? I explicitly requested her presence." Rory leaned forward, whispering companionably to Michel.
"Ah, but see, you didn't ask for her explicitly. You asked for Lorelai. So-" She flashed a brilliant smile, aware of Tristan watching her. "Here I am." Michel seemed quite unable to express his rage.
"Sookie!" The plump, cheerful cook popped her head out of the kitchen. She spotted Rory.
"Hi, Rory! Where's your mom?' Michel stormed out from behind the desk.
"See! This is what I would like to know. Sookie, speak to her." Rory shrugged.
"He asked for Lorelai." She said in explanation. Sookie's expression turned sympathetic.
"She's still studying for that test, huh?"
"Yep. And death to all who interrupt." She said pointedly. Michel threw up his hands, shooting glares at Tristan, Rory, Sookie, and three guests in the near vincinity.
"I give up." He returned to his desk and began to talk on the phone in rapid french. Tristan caught Rory's gaze, smirking.
"Lovable, huh?" Sookie's gaze swung to him.
"So Rory, this is Tristan?" Tristan's jaw dropped.
"How did you-" Sookie waved off his question airily.
"I heard it from Jackson, who heard it from Kirk, who heard it from Patty, who heard it from Luke, who heard it from Taylor, who allegedly saw you with his own eyes, but that's only a rumour, and when it goes through Luke, Patty, Kirk, and Jackson, you never know." Tristan stared at her, mouth open.
"You're not kidding, are you?" Rory provided a two-word explanation.
"Gossip circle. So why did Michel want Mom?" Sookie rolled her eyes.
"Small fire in the kitchen. No, no, honey I'm fine-" She said as a look of concern crossed Rory' face. "Small fire. Extremely small fire. Teeny weeney little fire. It's all taken care of now. Sorry you got dragged all the way out here." Rory smiled.
"Hey, she promised to give back the leopard print top with the sparkly straps. And wash it." Sookie looked at Rory questioningly.
"That's yours?" Rory threw up her hands in exasperation.
"Why is everyone so surprised to hear that?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"No. Way." Rory crossed her arms and shook her head. Tristan sighed in exasperation.
"Come on, Rory! It's a great movie."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't want to." Tristan sighed melodramatically.
"I am not backing down until you give me a good reason." Rory rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Don't back down. Just stand there and be stubborn. I'll find a different one." She turned and examined a different shelf. Tristan watched her suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.
"You don't like scary movies, do you?" Rory turned.
"I do not not like scary movies." Tristan held up four discarded boxes.
"These are all good, and you shot down all of them. Because they're scary." Rory huffed.
"That....that is not true. I just don't want to watch them." Tristan smirked.
"Admit it, Rory. I blew your cover." Rory's eyes flashed.
"Fine. I'll call my mom. If she wants to watch it, we'll get it." She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed, glaring at Tristan.
"Mom?"
"Hey, kid. You guys done yet?"
"We're having a slight problem." Tristan mouthed 'slight problem?' and lifted an eyebrow skeptically. Rory glared at him. "We can't decided which movie to get. He wants a scary one."
"Oooh, that's it, death by fire."
"Mom." Rory couldn't help but smile at her mother's voice.
"Come on! We could make s'mores!"
"Just tell him the error of his ways, please."
"Okay, let me talk to him. I'll explain the strict Gilmore Movie Night code." Rory handed the phone to Tristan, smirking in triumph.
"Lorelai?"
"Hi there, Tristan. You remember our nookie rules? Good. Now, since you're such a quick learner, we've progressed to the Movie-Night rules." Tristan swallowed, in remembrance of the earlier discussion. He interrupted Lorelai before she could start listing the Gilmore regulations.
"Uh, I do remember our other conversation, but I have a very convincing and persuasive argument for my cause." Lorelai's voice was intrigued.
"Knock yourself out."
"Yeah. It has-" Tristan flipped the box over and scanned the credits. "Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, and Antonio Banderas." There was a long silence. Then Lorelai spoke.
"I'll make the popcorn. Hurry up." Tristan closed the phone with a satisfied click, turning to smirk at Rory, who narrowed her eyes at him.
"I will get you for this, Dugrey." Tristan kept smirking.
"I'm sure you will." He dangled the box for the video 'Interview with a Vampire' over her head. "Now, let's go watch this movie."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"I can't believe you made me watch this." Lorelai's voice was muffled, as her face was buried in her daughter's shoulder. She peeked between her fingers and glanced at the screen, quickly hiding her face again. Rory popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, patting the top of her mother's head absentmindedly.
"Hey, no objections here. More Brad and Tom for me." Lorelai sat up slightly, glaring at her daughter.
"What happened to Miss I-hate-scary-movies? This is the kid who ran out screaming from The Little Mermaid when she was six!"
"Ursula was scary!" Rory said defensively.
"You couldn't look at a fish for weeks without bursting into tears."
"Shhh. This is a good part." Tristan said, eyes fastened to the screen. Automatically, both Rory and Lorelai stopped arguing, turning to look at the screen. A second later Lorelai hid her face in a pillow.
"Oh my god, that is so sick!" Rory leaned forward, looking interested.
"Is that even possible? Could someone theoretically suck someone else's blood out through their-"
"That's it, I'm going to go to bed. Night kiddies." Lorelai jumped up and planted a kiss on Rory's forehead, hurrying toward the stairs. Rory called after her.
"Get more of those weird, sour marshmallows before you go up." Lorelai made a quick detour into the kitchen and tossed the bag of junk food in Rory's general direction.
"See you in the morning, kiddies. Don't stay up too late. And, Tristan-" He looked up apprehensively. Lorelai smirked, showing way too many teeth for Tristan's taste.
"Be good." Tristan held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.
"Goodnight, Lorelai." Rory watched the interacted with confusion, deciding not to pursue the subject.
"Night Mom." She blew a kiss to Lorelai and turned back to the screen. Tristan looked at her sideways, slightly thrown by her obvious interest in the gory movie.
"You actually like this, don't you?" Rory shrugged.
"Yeah, I do. Disappointed?"
"Surprised." The two of them leaned back against the couch, surprisingly comfortable in each other's presence. Rory reflected silently on the past few hours. They had walked around the grounds at the Inn and had skimmed through the easy questions in the pamphlet for school. She had discovered that Tristan's favorite color was dark blue, his favorite movie was To Kill a Mockingbird, his favorite actor was Benecio Del Toro, and he loved Mexican food. His favorite subject was English, and his favorite book was The Mosquito Coast, by Paul Theroux. His birthday was September ninth, and his favorite band was Matchbox Twenty. They'd avoided the deeper, more meaningful questions in the pamphlet. Which meant that tomorrow was going to be a lot more difficult than today. Rory sighed and settled back against the pillows. And she wasn't even going to be on her own turf.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Tristan opened his eyes sleepily. He shifted slightly, blinking as he sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, wondering where the hell he was. His eyes traveled over the unfamiliar room, and then it hit him-he was at Rory's house. But they had been watching a movie...hurriedly, Tristan glanced at his watch. The small digital numbers glowed in the dark, showing that it was one-seventeen in the morning. We must have fallen asleep, he thought, instinctively looking around for Rory. A smile touched his lips when his gaze landed on her, curled in a ball on the sofa, sound asleep. Her hair falling over her delicate face, relaxed peacefully in sleep.
Sitting up with a slight groan, the result of sleeping for three hours on the, while carpeted, still unforgiving Gilmore floor, Tristan climbed to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. He almost tripped over his duffle bag, still lying on the floor next to the sofa. As he leaned down to pick it up, his chin brushed Rory's hair, falling over the arm rest of the sofa. Silently, he straightened, and spent a few minutes just watching her sleep. Her eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows on her pale skin. Releasing his breath in a soft sigh, Tristan leaned over Rory to pull down the blanket draped over the back of the sofa. He unfolded it and gently spread it over Rory's small frame. She shifted slightly in sleep but otherwise remained quiet, a small, contented smile curving over her mouth. Tristan brushed her long, honey-brown hair away from her face, his fingertips lightly grazing her skin and causing him to swallow at the light contact. Quickly, he took his hands away from her face and turned away.
Straightening, Tristan surveyed the room for somewhere suitable to sleep, since his designated bed was currently occupied. The chair by the window had possibilities, but on second thought he didn't think it would be beneficial to his health to be found by Lorelai asleep in the same room as her daughter. The whole town would probably know by ten o'clock, thanks to the gossip circle. I wonder if it's an official organization. With badges. Shaking his head, Tristan walked into the kitchen and resigned himself to a most likely incredibly uncomfortable night upright in a wooden chair. Since the other option is probably castration by Lorelai Gilmore and her minions, I don't have much choice. He would also probably get more sleep, he admitted silently, if he wasn't lying fifteen feet away from Rory Gilmore. Falling into a chair, Tristan pulled his t-shirt over his head and stuffed it into his bag, settingly for a night in a wife beater and jeans. Folding his arms on the table, he put his head in them and was almost instantly asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Lorelai Gilmore padded softly down the stairs early Sunday morning. Too early, she thought fuzzily. Damn alarmclock. Purred an hour too soon. Trying not to trip over her long, cotten pajama pants and ratty bathrobe, Lorelai glanced into the livingroom on her way through to the kitchen and was indignant to see, by the first rays of dawn peeking through the window, her daughter, curled up on the sofa and covered in a blanket. Why that little-! Lorelai padded furiously over to the sofa, opening her mouth to yell, and closing it when she realized that Rory was alone on the sofa. Tristan's bag was also missing from the floor. Lorelai surveyed the rest of the room. No Tristan. Curious, Lorelai tip-toed into the kitchen.
She folded her arms and smiled in spite of herself when she saw Tristan asleep at the kitchen table, his golden, messily spiked head resting on tanned arms. He looks so much younger asleep, Lorelai reflected absently. Silently, she padded around him and began to make coffee. At the sound of opening cabinets and bubbling liquid, Tristan's golden lashes flickered, slowly opening on sleepy, charcoal blue eyes. Lorelai sat down opposite him, sipping a cup of coffee as Tristan blinked several times and slowly sat up with a barely audible groan, touching the back of his neck. Lorelai watched him over the brim of her coffee mug.
"Yeah, that's what happens when you spend a night at the kitchen table, in the most uncomfortable sleeping position known to man. I know. I've done it." She waited for his still half-closed eyes to focus on her. Then she smiled sweetly. "Morning, Tristan." The smile turned to a smirk as she watched him open and close his mouth, unable to form a sentence. Finally-
"I need coffee." Lorelai smiled and patted his head.
"Thatsa boy." She placed a full mug in front of him. "So, tell me Tristan, how is it that you wound up asleep at my kitchen table while my daughter sleeps in your designated bed?" Tristan swallowed his sip of coffee quickly. He watched Lorelai carefully as he spoke, ready to retreat at the sight of a sharp object.
"I think we fell asleep watching the movie. I, uh, woke up at about a quarter after one and Rory was asleep on the couch. I didn't want to wake her up, so I left her there and came to sleep in here-" Lorelai nodded.
"In, I repeat, the most uncomfortable position known to man." She surveyed Tristan carefully, eyes narrowed. He swallowed nervously.
"No nookie, swear to God." Lorelai smirked at his expression in spite of herself.
"It was nice of you to sleep in here. A lot of guys wouldn't have done that." Tristan shrugged, replying without thinking.
"It was more of an act of self-preservation." Lorelai smiled.
"Darn straight. I could sic Luke on you. Or Morey. Oooh! Or Kirk. Kirk would be fun. Although he may not be up to it, seeing as you don't have floppy hair-" She paused, noticing that Tristan was looking at her very strangely. "Sorry."
"No, no. Go ahead. Laugh at my misery. I don't mind."
"Thank you. More coffee?'
"Yeah, thanks." Lorelai refilled his cup and resumed her seat opposite him. When she spoke, her tone had changed from amused to serious and slightly hesistant.
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Tristan looked up sharply. He examined Lorelai's face for any indication of her intentions, but her expression showed nothing. Warily, he shrugged.
"Ask away." Lorelai looked down into her coffee mug, and then back up into the face of the young man seated opposite her.
"How long have you been in love with Rory?" The effect was as if someone had thrown a door closed over Tristan's face and slammed the bolts home. His expression was closed and carefully controlled. For several minutes, the two stared at each other. Tristan's mind was racing skittishly from one thought to another, though his face showed nothing.
Ohgodshe'sgoingtokillmehowcouldshetell?wasitreallythatobvious?Iamsodead- In a way it was easier than if she'd simply asked him if he was in love with Rory. To that he would almost certainly have said that no, he was not in love with Rory, that he was merely a friend. But to have the secret he had kept even from himself for months spoken openly across a room, flowing from the lips of one to the ears and heart of another produced vast sense of relief. Lorelai wasn't asking him to deny or confirm anything. She had done for him. His words were whispered, but still audible in the silent room.
"From the moment I saw her." He looked up and met Lorelai's eyes. "From the instant I walked into class late and I saw her sitting in the front row with her hair tucked behind her ears. I was in love with her before I could blink." His voice fell into silence as he wonderingly contemplated what he had just admitted. "I never even had a chance."
Lorelai laughed.
"She's a Gilmore. A Lorelai Gilmore, for that matter. One of the few. What did you expect?"
"I didn't expect to be won over so effortlessly." Lorelai smiled.
"Well, if you're going to be hanging out here, you better get used to it, pally. And if you think we're bad, wait until you meet my mother." Tristan smiled, looking hesistantly across the table at Lorelai. His voice was light and slightly embarrassed.
"How did you know? I mean, not that it's really important, but it kind of bothers me to think that my actions are so easily read. Particularly by someone who's only known me for about twenty-four hours. " Lorelai shrugged.
"It's my psychic ability. Runs in the family." Tristan looked skeptical. Lorelai sighed melodramatically. "Look, Tristan, I know that you're the big man on campus. Golden boy, heir to the empire, ladies man, most skillful player in the game. It practically oozes from your pores. Which, I hate to say, was your undoing." Tristan lifted an eyebrow.
"My undoing?" Lorelai waved her hands, impatient to get back to the explanation.
"Your undoing. Your downfall. The straw that broke the camel's back. Et cetera. Now, Mr. Skeptical, may I continue?" Tristan motioned for her to go on, lifting his hands in a gesture of mock-innocence. "You know the expression, 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall?'"
"I'm only six feet tall." Lorelai glared at him.
"Are you going to keep doing that? I'm trying to be metaphorical here."
"Sorry."
"The point is, you're not used to developing emotions toward people. You've filled your life with shallow friendship and meaningless relationships. Make-believe. You're so used to being shallow that the first time that you feel something real, it shows in your every touch, your every glance. It may as well bee written across your forehead." Tristan was silent for a minute, thinking about Lorelai's words.
"So can I ask you a qustion now? You know, payback, and all that?" Lorelai shrugged.
"Fire away."
"Why are you living in Stars Hollow? Why didn't you inherit the Gilmore Estate?" He watched her face carefully as he asked. Lorelai smiled ironically.
"My parents disowned me after I refused to abort Rory or at least marry Christopher. I don't think I would have wanted it anyway."
"Why not?" Lorelai sighed, eyes distant, drifting in the past.
"Too many memories. No air. No room to become anything more than Lorelai Gilmore, heir to the Gilmore fortune, owner of everything a little girl could want." Tristan contemplated her words. They hit a little too close to home for comfort. Tristran changed the subject.
"You know what you said earlier? About my emotions being written on my forehead?" Lorelai nodded. Tristan swallowed. "If it's so obvious, why hasn't Rory seen it?" Lorelai smiled.
"My daughter, while she is the joy of my life, is completely blind when it comes to herself. Sucks for you."
"Thanks for your compassion." Lorelai shrugged.
"No problem." Tristan stared into his coffee cup for a few minutes, and when he spoke again, his voice was very hesistant.
"Lorelai?" She looked at him.
"Thanks for your compassion." This time, the words spoken so sarcastically a few minutes before held a note of sincerity and shy gratitude. The words of a boy who didn't quite know how to express his appreciation. Lorelai smiled softly.
"No problem." She paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask one more question. "Tristan?"
"Yeah?" Lorelai grinned, eyes sparkling.
"Do you have a motorcycle?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"You realize that Rory is going to be completely mortified when she wakes up, right?" Tristan looked up from his pop tart. They had been chatting now for over an hour, waiting for Rory to wake up.
"So if I have any big favors to ask her, now's the time, huh?" Lorelai shrugged.
"Yeah, big favors, ugly confessions, et cetera. I'll bet you five bucks that the first words out of her mouth when she comes in here are 'I'm so embarrassed.'" Tristan narrowed his eyes.
"You're on." They shook on it and went back to their pop tarts.
"I need your phone number and address, in case there's any big emergency like I get kidnapped or hijacked or trampled by an elephant or coffee prices rise." Lorelai pushed a scrap of paper and pen across to Tristan, who lifted an eyebrow as he wrote down his cell phone number.
"You think the elephant will let you make a phone call?" Lorelai stood up and put her dishes in the sink.
"Oooh, funny, funny boy." They both looked up at the sound of bare feet coming down the hall. Rory stood in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, tousle- haired, and looking confused. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Rory scowled at her mother, dropping into a chair at the table.
"Okay, someone clue me in. I wake up on the sofa, still wearing what I wore yesterday, come in here, and not only find my mother awake before nine o'clock on a Sunday, which would be apocalyptic by itself, but find her chatting with the guy who was supposed to be sleeping on the sofa." Tristan lifted an eyebrow at Lorelai. Scowling, she left the room and reappeared a few moments later, sliding a five dollar bill across the table to Tristan, who pocketed it, smirking. Rory watched suspiciously.
"Why did you just give Tristan five dollars?" Lorelai poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of Rory.
"No reason. How was the rest of the movie?" Lorelai asked innocently. Rory tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I don't remember...maybe I fell-" Her eyes caught Tristan's, and suddenly she understood.
"I fell asleep." She said slowly. Tristan nodded. "On the sofa." He nodded again, this time with a touch of a smile at the look of dawning comprehension on Rory's face. "And you, you fell asleep-"
"-on the floor." Tristan finished. Rory winced inwardly. She'd fallen asleep on the floor during a few movie nights herself, and it wasn't fun.
"So you spent the whole night on the floor?" Lorelai jumped in.
"Nope. It gets better. He woke up at one and, instead of waking you up, he quite gallantly relinquished his bed to you and came to sleep in here. At great personal discomfort. In a chair. At the table. With his head on his arms." Rory cringed.
"No need to lay it on so thick." Her cheeks began to flush with embarrassment. She turned to look at Tristan. "Why didn't you just wake me up? Now I feel guilty." Tristan shrugged, hiding his smile at her half- embarrassed, half-accusing look.
"You looked comfortable." He said casually. Rory glared at him.
"If you hadn't convinced me yesterday that you're actually a halfway- decent person, I would accuse you of planning this to make me feel indebted to you." Tristan placed a hand over his heart in mock-indignation.
"I'm wounded, Mary. May I remind you that I spent the night in 'great personal discomfort', I think it was?" He looked at Lorelai for confirmation. She nodded.
"Yep. Great personal discomfort." Rory looked back and forth between the two faces and dropped her own into her hands.
"It's too early for this." Her voice was muffled. Tristan looked at her for a few moments. Her hair was adorably tousled, her cheeks still sleep-flushed.
"Can I use your shower?" Lorelai waved him away.
"Towels under the sink. Move the bras and stockings off the drying rack before you turn on the water or they'll get wet and we'll make you wash them." Tristan's eyes widened.
"Noted." He disappeared into the bathroom, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Rory stood up to refill her coffee mug and grab a pop-tart from the plate by the toaster. She returned to the table and eyed her mother warily.
"So what were you two getting so cozy about?" Lorelai grinned.
"Touche. Nothing interesting." Rory looked at her doubtfully, then sighed.
"I hate it when he does that. He's such a conceited brat at school, and then he pulls a stunt like this and makes me feel incredibly guilty for ever thinking of him as a jerk." Lorelai slung an arm around her daughter's shoulders and whispered conspiratorily.
"Yeah, but guess what?" Rory looked at her questioningly. An excited smirk spread across Lorelai's face. "He has a motorcycle!"
To Be Continued...