Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Trory
Chapter 5 || If I Fall
you with me...
*
Rory stared at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her dress. She was nervous...no, wait...she was terrified. It was bad enough that Tristan would be there, and not only did she have to endure his smartass comments, but she also had to stand near him and show no signs of blushing or breathing trouble, which was becoming more and more of a problem. But it was worse that this was a cocktail part at the Dugrey's.
Sighing, she smoothed down her dress. It was a wispy material, layer after layer of a light, iridescent forget-me-not blue that fell just above her knees. It was v-neck, with the short sleeves split and fluttering every time she moved. She was wearing her mother's silver sandals to match, and her hair was thick and wavy. She hoped somewhere in the back of her mind that Tristan would think she looked good. But she brushed that thought away and told herself it didn't matter.
With a sense of deja-vu, Rory put on her coat and grabbed her pocketbook, meeting her mother at the door. There was an unusual silence between them, broken only by an anxious sigh, or in Lorelai's case, an annoyed. The night was clear and cold. The stars smiled down upon the two Gilmores as they climbed into their car, the wind biting their backs. There was a light blanket of snow still on the ground, but no new snow was falling this time. Lorelai pulled out the directions she had been given, and the two headed off into the night.
*
About an hour later, the Jeep pulled up in front of one of the more mammoth buildings either Gilmore had even seen.
"Wow...someone's sure bringing home the bacon in this house," Lorelai mumbled.
Rory was silent and awed. Her eyes swept over the windows, the pillars, the gardens lightly dusted with snow as they got out of the car that was parked among various Mercedes and BMW's.
"All right, let's go and get this over with. You can have your dance with Hottie Man, and then we'll scoot."
"Mom!" Rory exclaimed, clearly annoyed. "For the last time, his name is not-"
"I'm sorry, have you not seen the boy? I'm pretty sure that's his name. I mean, if I was your age, I would-"
"Once again, scary thoughts."
"Ok, Ok. Just make sure you get some so I can live vicariously through you."
Rory just looked at her mother incredulously, and tried to ignore the butterflies that were now present in her stomach at the thought of Tristan being inside. As they walked to the door, she absently touched her hair to make sure it was holding. Lorelai smirked.
"Don't worry, he'll pass out when he sees you. If you don't pass out first."
And before Rory could respond to that, the door was yanked open, and a stout, cold-looking butler with an upturned nose ushered them inside.
"And you are?"
"The Gilmores."
"I'm sorry, they were already here."
Lorelai rolled her eyes.
"No sir, we're their daughter and granddaughter. We were also invited to this fine little establishment?"
His eyes scanned a list placed on the hall table. He saw that there were, indeed, four people in the Gilmore party. He frowned.
The butler looked at them sourly before taking their coats. "The drinks are served in the room to the right of here, dancing in the ballroom, and dinner will be served in the dining hall. Will there be anything else?" He asked coldly, clearly annoyed.
"Yes, umm, we'd like a map? We might get lost." Lorelai piped up.
Rory nudged her and tried not to laugh. "No sir. That will be all." Rory told the butler, and broke out into a giggle as he walked away.
"Well, if we get lost, we always have the cell in your purse. We'll call Luke to come help us escape."
"Luke's busy at the diner, Mom."
"Well, I hope you have enough rations for the both of us then."
"In this purse? I could only carry a few candy bars and maybe a thermos of coffee, a Danish if we were lucky. You know that's only enough for five minutes. We'd starve for sure."
Lorelai pursed her lips in mock-disappointment. "Have I taught you nothing? Always carry rations. It's necessary to keep the sugar and caffeine level up."
The two walked into what they assumed was the ballroom and were swallowed by the crowd. There were couples dancing and spinning as there had been just a week ago at the Gilmore household, except now it seemed like there were even more people. A live band was playing, complete with it's own string section. It seemed as if every person in the room was holding a drink.
The room itself was actually beautiful. It was marble-floored, gleaming with reflections. Many paintings adorned the walls, and there was a large fountain in the corner, bubbling quietly, illuminating the room with dancing shadows. Every thing seemed to be shaded in white or gold. All the furniture was a deep mahogany.
The crowd was swimming with dresses and suits, and those who weren't dancing were talking smugly to one another, trying to prove how much more money one had than the other. Lorelai scanned the crowd for a few minutes, then tugged on Rory's arm, grinning.
"Target spotted." Lorelai pointed out Tristan on the other side of the room. Rory tried not to catch her breath. His was hair tousled and messy as usual, his eyes dancing as he watched one of his friends dance around him, mocking a waltz. His face was frowning, but it was clear that he was trying not the smile. His suit outlined his powerful frame, his broad shoulders. Rory tried to appear unfazed and turned towards her mother.
"I'll just wait until he sees me."
"Well, actually, I think he just did. See you later. And when I see you, you better have some juicy stories to spill! Understand?"
"But mom!" Rory called. It was too late. Her mother had already walked away. And Tristan was edging his way through the crowd. Rory prepared herself and ordered her breathing to be normal. As he got closer, however, she knew it was a lost cause.
*
"Wait, wait, man. Let me get this straight. You saved her, you danced with her, and now all of a sudden you're in love?"
"No. I'm not in love with her."
"Please, DuGrey. You spotted her the moment you walked in. You suddenly love watching people waltz. What the hell is that?"
His friend began to dance around him in circles, off-beat, and with a ridiculous grin on his face. Tristan pushed him lightly, trying to convey that he could care less about Rory and the dress she was wearing, or dancing with her, or being with her. It didn't work, and a smirk played across his friend's features. Tristan could almost hear the comments now.
"Shut up, asshole."
"Face it, DuGrey. You're whipped."
Tristan rolled his eyes as his friend was caught by the arm by another girl. He was not whipped. But, now alone in the crowd, he sought Rory out again. He took in the blue dress she was wearing, the one that was accentuating her eyes. Her hair was thick and cascading, and she looked delicate and small. An offbeat pixie. But beautiful. Then he saw her mother next to her smirk, and turn to leave. Rory pursed her lips and then turned, scanning the crowd.
Tristan started walking towards her, a waltz playing in his mind. As he reached her, her eyes met his. He licked his lips unconsciously, his mouth dry. He swallowed hard as he reached her, getting ready to put up his usual façade.
*
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mary."
"If it isn't Tristan. Clearly your brain has grown so small that you can't even remember a person's name." she teased.
"You're looking good." Rory didn't realize the truth to his words.
"And you're looking...arrogant." Rory trailed off, biting her lip to keep from saying how she really thought he looked. The crowd was tight, and she couldn't help but think that he was inches away from his body. Her blood pounded through her.
Tristan mock pouted. "It has to be like that, huh? I'm so deeply wounded."
"Oh, so sorry. What can I do to make it better?" she asked sarcastically. Then Tristan raised an eyebrow, and Rory realized too late what she had just said. But her thoughts froze as he dipped close to her, snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. He leaned in and his lips touched her ear, showering Rory with chills. A heat swept through her body, and her eyes involuntarily closed as she felt his breath in her ear.
"I think you know, Mary," he whispered, and then he pulled away, inwardly wondering if he had gone too far. He turned to smirk at her, and was shocked to see a weakness clear on her face. She quickly recovered.
"And I think you know it's all in your dreams, DuGrey," she smiled sweetly at him. But even as Rory said this, she knew she was losing control.
"Well, since I know the fantasy of dancing with me has been in your dreams..." Tristan left the sentence open-ended and dragged her onto the dance floor. She didn't refuse. She couldn't. His arm was familiar around her waist, and every finger felt burned to her skin. The two of them swallowed in tandem, and as they began to move in a slow waltz, she hesitantly pressed up closer to him, feeling his firm lined frame under her torso.
Tristan looked down at her in surprise when he felt her move closer. He squashed the hope that was rising, however. It was probably nothing. He tried to breathe normally, but it was hard. His heart was pounding as he took in her scent, the waves cascading down her back, her lashes fluttering, long and black, against her face. Her cheeks were tinged a warm pink, and it took all his self-control not to force his lips against hers. He bit his lip.
Rory watched him from under the fringe of her eyelashes. She watched him bite his slightly-swollen lip and she felt weak all over again. She didn't know why she was feeling this way, but she couldn't blame it on the snow this time.
As they took a quick turn, however, they backed into another man, who had been holding a glass of wine in his left hand. The man's hand jolted, sending the contents of the glass over on the couple. Suddenly, the moment was interrupted. Rory felt cold seeping through her dress, and craned her neck to examine her back. She groaned when she saw a deep purple stain spread on the back of her dress. The man they had bumped into gasped and apologized.
"I'm so sorry miss."
Rory smiled wearily. "It's fine, sir."
Tristan simply watched this entire exchange. As the man turned and left to get some napkins, he looked at Rory. She sighed.
"That's not going to come out if you don't try right now," he remarked.
"No, really? And all this time I thought you were stupid enough not to realize!" Her tone was tinged with bitter sarcasm.
Tristan looked at her. "Come upstairs. We'll try and get the stain out of the dress and you can borrow something of mine while we try and wash it out."
"All right, I guess." Then something dawned on her. "Tristan, I can't wear your clothes, this is a cocktail party! My Grandma would kill me." That wasn't exactly what was bothering her. It was being in the same room with Tristan alone that caused her to worry. His bedroom, to be exact.
"Or, you can always go without clothes, if you prefer," he remarked, leering.
She just glared. "Yeah, and I'm sure that would go over well."
"It would with me," he replied huskily.
Rory just rolled her eyes and followed him out of the room and into various others. As Tristan lead her up the stairs, she tried not to think about what could happen while. She scolded herself. Nothing would happen. At least, she didn't think so.
*
A/N: I know three things: a) I take a while for the chapters, b) The writing wasn't so great for this chapter and c) you love me so you'll review anyhow...lol...actually, I don't know that...but I can hope ;) Thank you for supporting my story.