Pairing: R/T, of course
Rating: PG-13 at the most
Spoilers: May reference anything and everything from Season 1
Disclaimer: The characters referenced here are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and Warner Brother Television. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters are being used solely for entertainment purposes, and no profit is being made from them.
Unbreakable Heart
by Grace
Part 5: Control Groups and Hypotheses
As if in slow motion, Tristan watched as Rory crumpled to the floor. Fortunately, the bathroom was small, and he was able to catch her before she cracked her head on the tile floor and gave herself a second concussion for the day.
Within a matter of seconds, Tristan found himself in a remarkably awkward predicament. For the second time in less than twelve hours, Rory Gilmore was unconscious with her head in his lap. Only this time, he was wearing nothing more than a towel, and her mother was only a few rooms away. As he shifted positions slightly, he realized he had yet another problem—the towel was beginning to slip.
He began to pray fervently that he would somehow manage to extract himself from this situation before either Rory woke up or her mother came downstairs to bear witness to what could easily be perceived as his less-than-honorable intentions towards her daughter.
He realized very quickly that at least one of those prayers was not going to be answered. Rory began to move her head slightly in his lap, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning. Okay, think puppies, think kittens, think about your parents…just don't think about how you wish Rory was seeing you in a towel for a different reason.
Swallowing hard, he looked down to meet Rory's groggy blue eyes. Plastering a requisite smirk on his face, he said softly, "You know, Mary, you're the first girl to faint at the sight of me without my shirt on."
Tristan watched in amusement as her eyes became cloudy with confusion. "What are you talking about?"
At her obvious distress, he was no longer able to mask his concern. "Rory, do you remember what happened?"
She struggled to sit up, but collapsed back against him in exhaustion. "Refresh my memory, please."
"I had just gotten out of the shower, you came in, and then you passed out."
"Tell me one more time why you were in our shower."
He smiled gently. "Don't worry, you never actually knew about that part in the first place. Your mom insisted that I spend the night."
"Oh. Okay."
"Rory, how are you feeling? Are you dizzy? Disoriented? Do you need me to take you back to the hospital?"
She shook her head, and then winced. "No, I'll be okay. I think I just tried to do too much too fast."
"How about I take you back to your room?"
She smiled for the first time since opening her eyes. "Exactly how are you planning on doing that?"
Puzzled, he asked, "What do you mean?"
She shot an appraising glance at his chest. "You're not exactly dressed for the job, remember? Actually, you're not exactly dressed at all…" Her voice trailed off, as she had just comprehended where she was, whom she was with, and what he wasn't wearing. Abruptly, she tried to sit up once more, and nearly fell over in the process. Instinctively, he encircled her with his bare arms to protect her, and as he reflexively pulled her tight against his chest, the towel slipped a little further. Rory glanced down, and found her gaze riveted to the joint where his leg met his hip.
Following the path of her eyes, Tristan was astonished when he felt himself start to blush.
"Rory," he croaked, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Rory, I want you to grab onto the edge of the sink and close your eyes."
"Why?"
He sighed. "Because the only way you're leaving this room is in my arms, and even I'm not crazy enough to attempt that naked. So while you hang onto the sink, I'll get dressed, and we'll go from there."
"Oh," she said softly. "Okay."
Carefully, Rory grabbed hold of the sink, and squeezed her eyes shut. How did this happen? she wondered.
Swiftly, Tristan allowed the towel to drop and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."
Leaning over, he scooped her into his arms yet again. "You know," he commented, "this is becoming quite a habit with us."
She squirmed uncomfortably in his embrace, which only prompted him to hold her tighter. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it, Tristan."
"And here I thought you were beginning to enjoy the role of damsel in distress."
She snorted indelicately. "Whatever. Gilmore girls are not damsels in distress."
"I'm noticing that."
They had reached her room, and Tristan carefully set her down on the bed. He murmured, "Goodnight, Rory," and turned to leave.
When he was about to walk through the door, he heard her soft voice call out to him. "Tris?"
Turning to face her, he replied, "Yeah?"
She cast her eyes downward. "I know you have to be up early for school tomorrow, but I was wondering if maybe you could read a little more of A Tale of Two Cities to me? It was really relaxing at the hospital earlier."
If he was surprised by her request, he didn't show it. He simply nodded and slipped from the room to retrieve his copy of the book. Upon returning to her room, he realized there really wasn't anyplace to sit, so he settled himself on the floor beside her bed. As he flipped through the book to find the right page, he heard Rory moving around on the bed.
"Tristan?"
"Hmm?"
"You don't have to sit on the floor, if you don't want to."
Glancing back at her, he saw that she had scooted over to the far edge of the bed, leaving room for him to sit next to her.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, so he stood up and cautiously placed himself near the head of the bed. Leaning back, he propped the book on his knees and began to read.
Rory snuggled deeper under the covers, and allowed Tristan's quiet, soothing voice to lull her towards sleep.
By the time he finished the chapter, Rory's breathing was deep and steady. It was obvious that she was sound asleep, and he gave in to the desire to pull the sheet up closer to her chin and brush the hair away from her eyes. Sighing, he knew that he should return to the living room and get some sleep, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Rory quite yet. He turned back to his book and continued reading.
When Lorelai came downstairs for a drink of water several hours later, she noticed that Rory's light was on. Poking her head in the door, she saw her daughter sleeping peacefully. Next to her, his head lolling back against the headboard, fast asleep, was Tristan, the copy of A Tale of Two Cities lying open in his lap. She smiled, her heart warmed to see the troubled boy at rest. Their earlier conversation had enlightened her to the reasons behind his previous treatment of Rory, and also served to explain why he was now so desperate for her friendship.
Leaning into the room a little farther, she flipped off the light and went back to bed.
* * *
When Tristan awoke the next morning, the crick in his neck was almost unbearable. Easing himself forward, he looked at the clock. 5:30. He didn't usually get up so early, but there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep. Moving slowly and silently so as not to awaken Rory, he extricated himself from the bed and left the room.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he stumbled towards the kitchen. Given their obvious addiction, he figured that the Gilmore women wouldn't mind if he made some coffee.
Fifteen minutes later, as he sat at the table sipping the steaming brew, he realized that after only one night, this felt more like home than his parents' imposing mansion ever had. He felt at peace here, even happy.
Looking decidedly disheveled and groggy, Lorelai yawned her way into the room. "Morning, Freddie," she mumbled.
"Morning, Nan," he responded with a grin.
"Ooh, I like you. You make coffee." As she poured a cup and took her first sip, she moaned softly with pleasure. "And you make good coffee."
"I aim to please."
"I'm sure you do. So what exactly were you doing sleeping in Rory's bed?"
Tristan blushed. "She asked me to read to her. I guess I lost track of time and fell asleep." And of course, there was the whole bathroom incident, but I don't think I need to mention that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen."
"I know you didn't, sweetie." She watched his eyes widen at the term of endearment, and reminded herself once more how starved for love he must be. "Are you going to be okay to drive to school? I really don't want to make a return trip to the hospital."
"I'll be fine, don't worry."
"I'm a mother, I'm programmed to worry. Now, you're coming back here this afternoon, right?"
"I wasn't planning on it, no. I figured Rory would want to rest, and I know Dean's coming over."
Lorelai drained the rest of her coffee before answering him. "If I know my daughter, she's not going to want to fall behind on her work. I'm sure she'd appreciate it if you brought her today's assignments. You wouldn't mind, would you? I know it's kind of a long drive for you."
"Of course I don't mind. I don't think Dean'll be too happy, though."
"Leave Dean to me. Now, go get ready, or you'll be late for school."
While Tristan was getting changed into his Chilton uniform, Rory appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Hey sweetie. What are you doing out of bed so early? You need rest."
"Smelled coffee," she mumbled in reply, already gravitating towards the pot on the counter.
"Ah, yes, the nectar of the gods, brought to you this morning by the number six and the name Tristan."
Rory stopped mid-pour and turned to face her mother. "Tristan made the coffee? Is it poisonous?"
"You tell me—you let the potential poisoner sleep in your bed last night, after all."
She almost dropped her coffee. "I what?"
"Oh, calm down, concussion girl. He stayed up reading too long, and fell asleep sitting up. I guess it wasn't particularly comfortable. I'm surprised he didn't ask to take another shower, so he could work some of the kinks out."
At her mother's words, Rory sprayed the sip of coffee she had just taken halfway across the floor.
"Whoa, what's wrong? You know wasting coffee is a sin!"
"Sorry, the coffee was, uh, hot."
Lorelai looked at her skeptically. "That's never stopped us before. Now spill—what's really going on?
"Nothing! Really. I swear. Really."
"You said 'really' twice. You must be lying."
"Okay, Miss Marple."
"That's Nan Bobbsey to you, young lady."
"Huh? Well, maybe the concussion is making me particularly sensitive to hot beverages."
"I may not be a Harvard grad, but I know a load of crap when I hear one. You know I'm going to find out, so you may as well tell me now."
"Tell you what?" Tristan asked, strolling into the kitchen as he knotted his tie. "And what the heck happened in here?"
"Nothing. She's delusional."
"This from the girl with the head injury? Rory doesn't want to tell me why the mention of you taking a shower caused her to spit coffee all over the room."
Although he knew exactly what the reason was, he kept his face a mask of indifference. "Probably just her overactive imagination picturing me naked."
"Now Freddie, just because you made us coffee doesn't mean you can pick on my daughter this early in the morning."
"So would ten minutes from now be okay?"
"Soitenly," chirped Lorelai in a Three Stooges voice.
"Mom!"
"Shouldn't you be resting?" inquired Tristan.
"Arghh!" yelled Rory, stomping off towards her bedroom.
Lorelai held up her hand, and as Tristan walked by on his way to the toaster, he high-fived her.
"You realize," she began, "that I really shouldn't condone your tormenting my daughter, but you're just so good at it."
"I know; it's a gift." He pulled open one of the cabinets. "Do you have any other flavors of Pop-Tarts?"
"Ah, my boy, you've asked the right question! You've entered the Pop-Tart zone. Come with me." She crooked her finger and led him to the pantry. Throwing open the door with a flourish, she presented Tristan with several shelves full of coffee and Pop-Tarts.
"Wow. I've never even heard of some of these flavors." Plucking a box of strawberry ones from the bottom shelf, he retreated to the kitchen.
Lorelai followed him silently, a rare condition for her. Of course, it didn't last long. "Tristan?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever met someone that you just knew was going to be a part of your life for a very long time?"
He smiled at her. "Oh, I think that's happened once or twice."
She smiled back, understanding him perfectly, as two kindred spirits recognized one another.
* * *
Several hours later, Rory emerged from her bedroom once more, looking considerably more refreshed. She found her mother sitting on the living room floor, making a papier-mâché pig.
Yawning, Rory greeted her mother. "Morning, mom."
"Hi sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah. Did Tristan go to school?"
"Yep. What, did you expect him to wait for you to wake up, Sleeping Beauty?"
Rory flushed. "Of course not! I just…wondered."
"Uh-huh." Lorelai nodded knowingly. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it any more, because he's coming back here right after school."
Flopping down on the couch, Rory looked vaguely surprised. "Really? I figured he'd use any excuse he could to bail on our tutoring session."
"Actually, he's going to bring you your assignments."
"Oh, good. I really can't afford to get behind. I'd never catch up. But…Dean's coming over."
"Honey, there's something I need to tell you about Dean."
"What?"
"Remember yesterday at the hospital when I asked him how he knew to go there?"
"Yeah, he said he heard about it from the famous Stars Hollow gossip circle."
Lorelai moved over to the couch and placed her hand on top of Rory's. "The only person I told yesterday was Luke. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Rory's face fell. "There's no way Dean could have just heard about it, is there?"
Lorelai shook her head. "There's more. Ms. Patty told me that Babette saw Dean spying on you and Tristan."
In an instant, Rory's face contorted in fury, and her voice raised several decibels. "Spying on me? How dare he? He told me he trusted me! How could he betray me like this?"
"Maybe, um, he thought you were betraying him."
Rory groaned loudly and flopped back against the sofa cushions. "Don't you start with that too. All we were doing was studying."
"And having a pillow fight," Lorelai interjected.
"And having a pillow fight," Rory conceded. "That's still not exactly what I would call a romantic interlude."
"No, it's not. But tell me, how do you feel about Tristan?"
"Tristan's…Tristan. I don't know how to explain it."
"Do you consider him a friend?"
"A few days ago, I would have said no. But now…yeah, I guess I do."
"What changed? Did something happen between the two of you?"
Rory shrugged, and began to squirm slightly. "No, not really. I mean, he's pretty much been avoiding me this year."
"So why the sudden chumminess?"
Sighing, Rory began to explain. "The other night, when Dean and I were out, Tristan and his parents showed up at the restaurant. Dean didn't see them, but we overhead his parents reaming him out over his grades. They even banished him from the restaurant. So I…followed him."
"You followed him?"
"I couldn't help it! I felt sorry for him."
"Then what happened?"
"We talked, that's all."
"Is that when you offered to tutor him?"
"No, that was Monday."
"Um, wasn't Monday yesterday?"
"Hence today being Tuesday."
"So what you're telling me is that in the span of approximately twenty-four hours, you've gone from barely speaking to this boy to having him sleep in your bed?"
"I didn't ask him to sleep in my bed—it just happened."
"Uh-huh. And when you kissed him, did that just happen, too?"
Rory froze, and her eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"
Lorelai leapt to her feet and screamed. "You mean you actually did kiss him? I was just kidding! When? Why have you been holding out on me?"
"It was no big deal, really."
"If it was no big deal, why didn't you tell me about it?"
"Because I knew you'd freak out and scream and jump up and down." She paused and glared at her mother before continuing. "Which is exactly what you're doing."
In response, Lorelai flopped back down on the couch. "I want details."
"It was right after Dean and I broke up. You wanted to me to wallow, but I went to Madeline's party instead. Tristan got dumped by his girlfriend, and somehow we ended up in a room alone, sitting on a piano bench, and…we kissed."
Lorelai's eyes lit up. "Then what?"
"Well, then I started to cry, and I ran away."
Her mother's face fell. "Oh. That bad, huh? Was it like kissing a dead fish?"
"No, it was…nice. It was just too soon after Dean."
"So if you had waited a few weeks to kiss him, would you have liked it?"
"I don't know. It's not like I did an experiment with control groups and a hypothesis."
"Okay, okay. Aside from the post-breakup, former arch-nemesis awkwardness, how was the kiss? And don't tell me 'nice.'"
"It was…sweet, I guess. Tristan's obviously had a lot of practice, but somehow, that night, he seemed more human."
"It sounds like you enjoyed it."
"Maybe a little. I won't deny that Tristan's a good kisser."
"As good as Dean?"
"Mom!"
"Answer the question, kissy-face girl."
"Kissing Tristan was different. Not better, not worse, just different."
"That's a cop-out answer if ever I heard one. Tell me, what do you feel when you kiss Dean?"
"I feel…loved, and safe, and, I don't know, happy, I guess."
"And what did you feel when you kissed Tristan?"
"Mom, that was months ago."
"But you remember, don't you?"
"Well, yeah…"
"So what did you feel? And be honest."
"I felt…tingly."
Abruptly, Lorelai stood up, then bent to kiss Rory's forehead. "I think it's time for you to get some more rest."
Although puzzled by the sudden end to the conversation, Rory dutifully laid down on the couch. Practically against her will, her eyelids began to flutter closed after a matter of moments. Soon, she was so deeply asleep that she didn't hear the front door open and close as Lorelai slipped out of the house.
* * *
With an air of determination about her, Lorelai marched into Luke's diner. The restaurant was nearly deserted, since ten o'clock in the morning wasn't exactly a rush time. When he saw her approach, Luke began to reach for the coffeepot, and was subsequently startled when she grabbed his hand and hauled him into the back room.
"Lorelai, what do you think you're doing?" he shouted.
"It's an experiment. With a control group. And a hypothesis."
"What? Lor…"
He was cut off as she pulled him into a passionate kiss. After his initial shock wore off, he relaxed and began to respond, the tiny, semi-coherent portion of his brain wondering what in the hell just happened.
Moments later, he finally broke away and looked her straight in the eye. "You want to tell me what that was?"
Breathless, she managed to gasp out, "That was the experiment."
"And was I the control group?" he asked gruffly, fearing the worst.
She shook her head. "No, you were the data I needed to prove the hypothesis."
"Which was what?"
"That the things my oblivious daughter and I have been missing in our lives are tingles."
"Tingles?"
"Luke, would you please stop asking so many questions and kiss me again?"
He happily obliged.