Disclaimer: Do not own a damn thing! The characters belong to ASP and the WB. Aidan Hunter, Michael and Michelle do belong to me, however.

Rating: PG-13 for now

Pairing: Louise/Tristan

Author's Note: Yes, I do realize I am a Trory. But I am also big on UC 'ships and characters and couples that have been underused and underdeveloped. I will not make it a Trory, even though Rory is in it. I do ask you guys to give it a chance. Maybe you'll like it. That is all.

Dedication: To Susie and Nate, my wonderful betas for this chapter. To Miya, for my Louistan inspiration. To Katie, because she gets a Lou/Jess shout out.

Chapter One

Tristan dropped the keys on the table in the foyer of his apartment and furrowed his brows together when he heard strange sounds coming from the kitchen. He approached slowly, knowing that only one other person had access to his quintessential bachelor pad other than him and there was no way she'd ever venture into the kitchen – voluntarily. The fridge door was open, pots and pans that he had never used in his life but had been given to him as "housewarming gifts" adorned the stove and a big brown bag of groceries was sitting on the far corner of counter.

He leaned against the entryway and loosened his tie. "What are you doing?"

The brunette who was rummaging through the fridge popped her head out and beamed at him. "You're home! You're out of milk."

He glanced over at the grocery bag. "You didn't pick it up for me?"

"I'm not your maid, Tristan," Rory Gilmore answered haughtily.

"Rory, what are you doing?" he repeated and he walked over to the stove and inspected the pots and pans. He had forgotten where he had stored all of it and was amazed that she found it.

"I'm cooking."

He let out a laugh. "No, I'm serious."

She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the chest. "So am I. You had that big meeting with your Grandfather today and you're probably all stressed out. I thought I'd make you and nice homemade meal."

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "Michael cancelled on you again, didn't he?"

Rory winced slightly and then pouted. "He had an important meeting." Tristan shook his head in amazement and opened his mouth to tell her how wrong the guy was for her when she cut him off with, "Don't Tristan. I know what you're going to say and I just…can't hear it right now."

"But Ror -" he tried to say as he came to stand in front of her.

"Look, you don't know Michael like I do."

"And I thank God for that everyday," he replied sarcastically. "Okay, just let me say one thing. I promise it's short and I won't even say his name. In fact, I'd be happy never to say his name again."

"What?" she sighed, folded her arms across her chest turned to face him.

He reached up and tugged at the shoulder length brown hair. "You deserve much better." Rory gave him a half-hearted grin, knowing that he only wanted made her happy. "So, what made you think you could pull this cooking thing off?"

"Nothing," she shrugged and then gave him a syrupy smile. "I just thought I'd try and see if I could actually kill someone with my cooking. I selected you to be my guinea pig."

"Wonderful," he deadpanned, took of his jacket and loosened his tie. "What are you making?"

She turned to the stove and waved him off dismissively over her shoulder. "It's a surprise. Go take a shower."

"Will you be joining me?"

Used to their banter, she merely shook her head, stirring whatever it was she was boiling in the pot. "Sure. As soon as hell freezes over."

He chuckled to himself as he sauntered to his bedroom. Over the years, Rory Gilmore had become the only person in the world he could trust. At sixteen, he had actively pursued her when she first stepped into his life, and after being shot down more times than he'd like to remember, he had been shipped off to military school. They hadn't kept in touch and had only crashed (literally) into each other at a fraternity party two years later, at Yale. As if their somewhat rocky history hadn't mattered, they became inseparable.

But it was platonic. Always had been.

Tristan didn't deny that there had been times when he fancied himself in love with her and his numerous girlfriends since then had often told him that she was the reason he couldn't commit.

"Nobody measures up," Paris Gellar had told him long ago. "And those who want to try are scared by the history the two of you share. It's so Will & Grace, it makes me sick."

Unfortunately, they couldn't change, as hard as they tried. Maybe the timing was always wrong or maybe it just wasn't meant to be in a romantic relationship. Whatever the reason, they were best friends and as much as he tried to cut her out of his life, it had never worked. She always came back, mostly because he needed her there. She was - as corny as it sounded - the stabilizing force in his life.

So he was content with his string of girlfriend's who never stayed for too long, while all his emotional needs were satisfied by his close bond to Rory. To him, it was the perfect, if not ideal situation.

Until now. Frowning, as he remembered the ultimatum his grandfather and father had issued, Tristan stepped into the shower. Just as he was about to turn the knob, the cordless phone he had installed inside rang shrilly. Wearily, he picked it up. "Whoever it is, you better have a good reason for calling."

"Why? Did I interrupt something?"

Tristan grinned as he recognized the voice. "Hey Mariano! What's up?"

"I need to borrow a car the day after tomorrow," Jess replied with a sigh. "I hear you have a few to spare."

"Did your sorry excuse for an automobile blow up on you again?"

"Something like that," the other man stated dryly. "I need to pick up someone from the airport and-"

"And you'd rather ask me than your wife who would surely lecture you 'til no end," Tristan finished knowingly. Paris and Jess Mariano made quite the entertaining pair. "Just drop by my office. You can take the Benz."

"Nice. I owe you one man."

"Actually you owe me twenty, but who's counting?" Tristan could almost hear the grin in Jess' voice. "I'm curious, who is the mystery person you're picking up on the day of Madeline's wedding? A last minute guest?"

"Actually, the maid of honor: Louise Grant."

"Ah, Miss Haute Couture," Tristan said. "I haven't seen her in ages."

"She's been busy," Jess replied, although it sounded like he was a little suspicious. Tristan didn't know much about Louise since Chilton and the few times he had seen her, she was usually in and out of the function before anyone could talk to her for too long. He and Rory often wondered what had happened to the former "party gal" but Madeline and Paris seemed tight-lipped about the whole thing. Eventually, everyone had let it drop and Louise was mentioned very rarely in any conversation. "Hey, I've been trying to reach Gilmore and I keep getting her answering machine. Is she there?"

"She's cooking."

"Willingly?"

"Yeah, she got stood up."

Jess let out a four-letter curse with his breath. The two men shared the same opinion on Rory's slick-talking, smarmy beau. "Worthless piece of shit."

Tristan nodded. "You said it."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Excuse me," Louise said politely as she slipped between a man and the seats in front of them to get to her window seat. Madeline had insisted to pay for the tickets and Louise had accepted, mostly because, otherwise, she would have to dig into her meager savings to pay the fare and then, rent would be due, as soon as she got back from the wedding. She did however make up one condition: that Madeline didn't spring for first class.

She should have known her best friend would spring for business class instead.

As she settled into her seat, she glanced at the man she was sitting beside. When he returned her glance, she smiled, immediately pleased with how incredibly good looking he was. Chestnut hair that would have fallen over his forehead if he hadn't gelled it back and curled slightly at his nape, deep green eyes, a nice strong jaw, cheekbones that would have made many women jealous and a very pretty, sculpted mouth that was stretched into a friendly grin.

"Hi," he said offering his left hand as the other went to his tie, to loosen it. "Aidan Hunter."

She smiled as she shook his hand. "Louise Grant."

"I'm really grateful for the seating arrangements," he stated and she raised a curious eyebrow. Not many men would start a conversation with such a flimsy pick-up line. "Last time I flew, I got stuck next to this old geezer who fell asleep as soon as we took off and then, immediately started snoring."

"How do you know I won't fall asleep and that I don't snore?"

He grinned as he settled back against the leather. "I don't. But I'm hoping that I'm interesting enough to keep you awake. And if I'm not, at least I'll have a beautiful woman on my shoulder rather than a drooling, sixty year old accountant."

Louise laughed as the hostess passed by with wet towels. She felt some of her tension about the trip and seeing all her friends again, melt away. "Well, I'm not that tired right now and I promise to let you know when and if you get boring. Are you going to New York on business?"

"I live there, actually," he answered as he accepted a glass of soda from the hostess. "What about you?"

"My best friend is getting married today. I'm the maid of honor."

"No offense, but shouldn't you be there before? Like planning the shower and everything?" he asked, grinning a little. Louise's face fell and she stared at her nails, uncomfortable. He had inadvertently hit on a sore spot. "Oh wow, I'm sorry Louise. I have this really bad habit of saying the wrong things…"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "I just…it's a touchy subject for me. And it's kind of complicated."

He nodded. "I understand completely. Backing off now."

She smiled, lopsided. "Thank you."

"So, you live in LA? What's that like?" he asked, as the planed lurched forward, traveling to the runway.

"Different," she replied dryly, remembering the circumstances that brought her to the other side of the country. "I grew up in Hartford, Connecticut."

"Ah," he said and then sudden understanding dawned in his eyes. "Wait; are you Patrick Grant's daughter?"

"I am." Or I used to be, Louise thought bitterly. She glanced out the window, watching the airport rush by as the plane climbed into the air. "Do you know him?"

"My father does," Aidan replied, placing his empty cup on the table in front of him. "They used to be buddies at Dartmouth. Small world, huh?"

"Seems so." She needed to change the subject. Fast. "So, where did you go to school?"

"Oxford Academy, Greenwich." Aidan started to regale her with his life at an all boys school, all the way until breakfast was served. Then, he apologized for his rambling and they both settled to watch the in-flight movie.

"That was incredibly bad," Louise stated when the credits rolled and she slipped off her head phones. "Why do airlines insist on picking the blockbuster failures for their choice selection?"

"I think it one of the mysteries of life." Aidan grinned. Louise glanced at her watch and then the screen in front of her, trying to discern how much time they had left until arrival. Aidan and the movie had made her forget about her nerves for a little while, but as the distance closed she was beginning to feel more and more anxious. "Louise, are you okay? You seem tense."

"Is it that palpable?" she asked with a weary grin. She nodded a little, easing back into her seat. "I haven't seen my friends in so long. And I'm not exactly in the place in my life that they think I am and I feel like if I see them, they'll just know that I've been lying to them. I might as well walk in with a letter tattooed across my forehead."

He nodded, sympathetically. "It's just nerves. Going back is always hard. I'm sure they'll be so glad to see you and knee-deep in wedding stuff that they won't even want to spoil their time with you."

She nodded, knowing that he wouldn't understand completely. Biting her bottom lip to keep it from quivering, she managed a smile. "So, are you anxious about going home?"

"Wary is a more apt description."

"Wary?"

"My sister has been living at my apartment while I was gone," he explained, flashing a quick grin so that Louise knew he was close to her. "Meg is a little neurotic. Think Monica Gellar from Friends."

"Ah," she said knowingly. "I'm sorry. I know a lot of neurotic people. Paris –huh, her last name is Gellar too – she's a hurricane of ambition and neuroses. A deadly combo."

Again, before she knew it, Louise had launched herself into a conversation of her years at Chilton with Paris Gellar, Madeline Lynn and then, lastly, Rory Gilmore. Two hours and a short nap later, they were stepping out of the plane and heading towards the baggage claim at JFK.

"Well," Aidan said as they headed for the terminal exit, after they picked up their luggage. "Do you have a ride?"

Louise scanned the crowd of people and grinned as she saw a cardboard sign with her name scrawled across it in big blue letters. Jess Mariano grinned back at her. "That's my friend, Jess."

"The one married to the hurricane?" Louise nodded. Aidan grinned and handed her shoulder bag back to her. "So, this is it, I believe."

"Yeah," she replied. "I have your number."

He smiled, leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Use it wisely. Bye Louise."

"Bye Aidan," she answered as she watched him walk away. Once he was out of her sight, she turned and then pushed her trolley towards Jess. "Hey, Mariano."

"Grant," he returned evenly although he embraced her, warmly. Jess wasn't a touchy feely guy and she knew it was very rare when he showed genuine affection for someone other than his wife and kid. "It's nice to know you still have a way with men."

She pulled away, laughing. "Always. I got tired of waiting for you."

It was his turn to laugh. He took the cart away from her and gestured with his hands to the exit. "Well, let's get going. I think the bride is missing her maid of honor."

With a wavering grin, she latched her arm with his and followed him out of the airport. "I can't wait."