Dare You To Move
By: aspdstra
RATING: M
PAIRING: R/T
SUMMARY: Rory has a bad day, and Tristan gives her a ride home.
DISCLAIMER: No. I wouldn't even go there. So don't you.
Chapter 2: In My Place
Silently fuming, Tristan continued to drive down the interstate. Who the hell did she think she was? First she insulted him when he was trying to help her out, then she came back and acted like nothing ever happened, like she hadn't said she hated him — again. As if she hadn't already hurt him enough, she just had to twist the knife. Then she came back again, and she had the nerve to insult him again, then ask him for a ride home. Oh no, it doesn't stop there! She insulted him yet again while he was engaging in the said kind act. That was stepping over the boundaries, like by a mile. She'd deserved it.
But every time he told himself that, his mind kept going back to the image of her, cold and shivering in the bad weather, all alone in the middle of nowhere. Slowly but surely, the part of him that had been ass-up falling for her since the day he met her began to win over, and he found himself turning around and going back. Sucker. It's what he was, so there was no sugarcoating to be done.
Meanwhile, Rory had given up on the 'finding civilization' quest and decided to stay put lest she get more lost than she already was. Moments later, her spirits lifted when she heard a car engine roaring in the distance, turning and wiping her eyes to catch a glimpse. A flicker of silver played off the dim sunlight, and she found she was smiling for the first time in almost a half-hour. But she decided she'd milk it for all its worth and pretend she was mad. She was a girl after all.
Being such, when his car pulled up along side her and drove with her pace, she pretended not to notice, still genuinely sniffling and upset.
"Rory... Rory I'm — Jesus Rory I'm sorry, will you — jus —"
His words called out the window were ignored and she shuffled along. She wasn't going to give him an inch, so he turned off the car and caught up to her, briefly slipping through the mud and grass.
Rory was a mess. She was drenched, clearly soaked to the bone; her ponytail was in strandy ruins, and his peripheral view of her face indicated she was both worn out and tired from crying. And of course somehow she was still the most breathtaking creature in existence. He'd dug himself in deep.
"I am so sorry —" She glowered over her shoulder, silently telling him to shut the hell up, but he continued to persist despite her all her evasive maneuvering. "Ror — God, what d'you want from me?"
"Nothing. I don't want anything from you, I just want to be left alone. I was going to be alone anyway, 'cause you left me. Out here to die. You fed me to the wolves, Tristan! Like real, actual wolves. Or even better, I could've caught pneumonia and my dead body would be all shriveled up like a prune and all you'd care about is winning some stupid argument with someone who, shocker, doesn't go along with every single thing say. Just...go away, please." Rory kept walking, choking on her sobs and stumbling.
Tristan processed her rant and made haste to catch up. "Okay look, I was not actually going to leave you out here, I was just — angry and pissed off and you…are crying, shit..." He obviously didn't know what to do in these situations and tried to console her somehow. "Um. I. Don't cry, please..."
"Don'ttouchme!"
His attempts to initiate contact were rejected furiously, and he likened her response to that of Bilbo in Lord of the Rings when he didn't get to have the One Ring one last time. It was an off analogy, but it was the first that came to mind. "Whoa! Okay you…are upset. And crying. A lot."
Tristan tried again to comfort her, placing his hands timidly on her shoulders. She flinched but didn't move away like he thought she would. Feeling a little bolder, he moved his hands up to either side of her neck then further up to cup her face and wipe away stray hairs. She bit on her bottom lip, hoping to lessen her desire to tackle him to the ground as thanks for coming back for her, but Tristan was irresistible for a reason, and she immediately launched herself into his arms, burrowing her face in the safety of the slope of his shoulder.
He was a little caught off guard but welcomed a breaking down of her walls, correspondingly wrapped his arms around her slim waist and letting out a sigh of relief. "I would never leave you out here, Rory. You have to believe that."
She leaned back so she could look at him. "But you did, you drove away, I saw you driving away with your — car and y — and it was raining, i-it's still raining, and you left me, and I didn't have an umbrella and — I saw you do it, you drove away, I saw y —"
Effectively, he silenced her by covering her mouth with his, pouring out all his emotions from their mutually shitty day together. She, of course, gave in, merely latching onto his arms while his hands cradled her face, angling it to press deeper. Considering how much they tended to fight and get under each other's skin, the act of kissing each other wasn't as foreign as it should have been. This was the second time Tristan had taken action and Rory's mind just left her body as she went along with it. The kiss finally slowed down and lessened to them occasionally pressing their lips together to make sure the other hadn't disappeared. Then the pause. That dreadful pause and the staring, where both of them came to the recollection of what they'd just done. Again. Actually things were even more complicated now.
Tristan, clearly rattled, spoke first, running his fingers through his highly damp hair. "Oh God. That was…out of line. I'm sorry. You have a boyfriend now. Um. Derek, D-Dylan..."
"Dean," she aided him, making no effort to move out of his personal space.
"Right," he agreed, clearing his throat, nervous for the first time in his entire life.
"He's my boyfriend..." She said it more to remind herself than to help solve the mystery of his identity.
"Yeah. He is. I should get you home," he decided, pointing his thumb in no particular direction.
Nodding, she assessed all the new information, which Tristan had clearly made her forget, and took action by kissing him again, this time holding onto his face for dear life, praying the Apocalypse didn't come before she got to finish.