Okay! I'm back! Just in time to give you all a Christmas Gift. . . Or rather, Didi (Siaram) a Christmas Gift. . . again.

I asked what she wanted, and she said, 'An update to STTA!'. . .so, that's what she got.

I hope you enjoy her gift(and yours). I'll try to update again soon. ( -- sound familiar? lol)

Anyway. . . in this chapter, it starts to become clear just why I called this fic 'Lets Give Them Somethin' To Talk About'. I think you should be happy.

Oh! And, if anybody wants to know, Siaram and I are going to be joining together on a fic. . . We're writing under the name, "JayDI" (Jayde & Didi). And it's called 'Love dot Com'.

. . . I'll be quiet now. So. . . Enjoy.

Jayde

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Chapter 5: Beware, The Gilmore Glare

Rory cringed as she looked out at the mass of expensively dressed teenagers. The girls draping themselves over their dates, and she was sure, making out in the coatroom, or washroom, or even a spare janitors closet.

Turning her head to look at the approaching Tristan, she sighed. "Okay, I know that we've been through this a million times before, but really, does this seem like it's ten thousand times more boring than the last one?"

Handing her a cup of-as predicted- very weak punch, Tristan mirrored her stance of leaning against the wall. "You say that every time, Ror. And every time I agree with you. It is mind-numbingly dull."

Taking a sip of the punch, she closed her eyes. "So, Tris, what do you think that we could do to alleviate the boredom?"

Nodding at the punch in her hand, he grinned, "Well, if you keep drinking that, you won't be bored much longer.

Opening one eye, Rory looked suspiciously at him, and then at her drink. "You didn't."

"No, I didn't. . . But, I saw a group of guys do it."

"Oh." She looked at her drink again. "It's still weak." She smiled at him, and took another sip.

Tristan smiled at her and took in her appearance, yet again. "Have I told you, Miss Gilmore, how marvelous you look tonight?"

She smiled at him, another burst of pleasure coming from within, "Yes, Tristan, I believe you have. Although, I don't think that I've returned the complement."

He shrugged, "Well, I knew that I looked marvelous already. . ." He winked at her.

"Good. Because you do. You actually look. . ." She paused, "Dashing."

"I get a 'dashing' from a Gilmore. I'm flattered. . . the best that I've gotten from you two is a 'Fancy Shmancy', as Lorelai so succinctly put it earlier."

"Well, you do deserve a dashing. For tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, You'll just be Tristan. . . with ratty hair, and Abercrombie clothes."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Never. That's how I love you, Tris."

"Ah, the Lovebirds."

Rory rolled her eyes and turned around, "Hello to you, too, Paris."

Tristan nodded his greeting.

"Rory. Tristan." She looked at them suspiciously. "I have a report that the punch includes an alcoholic beverage that isn't permitted on school property. Do you know anything about it?"

Rory widened her eyes and looked at the cup in her hand, seemingly shocked, "It's spiked?" Shaking her head, she added, "I had no idea."

"Tristan?" Her eyes narrowed on the blond boy.

"I didn't know about it, either, Par."

The stern girl flushed, "Well, okay, then." She stammered, "I have to continue questioning." She stalked off.

"Bye, Paris." Rory shrugged, and looked at Tristan, who was struggling to keep the grin off of his face, and burst out laughing. Turning into him, she buried her face into his neck, trying to muffle her laughter.

Tristan let out a chuckle of his own and, after taking her glass and setting it down on a nearby table, wrapped his arms around her. Hearing a slow song, with a relatively good beat to it, he whispered in her ear, "Dance with me."

Rory pulled back slightly, her eyes on his. Although they had been to dances before, he had never actually asked her to dance. They fooled around with the fast songs, and danced together when an elder prompted them to . . . but he had never actually taken the initiative and actually ask her himself. Looking into his eyes, she felt a heat uncoil inside her, something that she had noticed, an ignored in the past. Maybe it was the husky way that he had whispered in her ear, or the fiery way that he was looking onto her eyes that made her feel it. . . and what it was, she sure didn't know.

Smiling in to his eyes, she held out a hand, "I'd love to. . . Let's show them how it's done, huh?"

Walking with her to the center of the dance floor, he took one hand in his own, and one on her hip. He hand rested near his shoulder, and she leaned in and placed her head on his chest.

Moving in rhythm with the song, they barely noticed the other dancers slowly leave the floor, and watch them. Doing what they did best, they slowly moved apart, and Tristan spun her leisurely, letting her come to rest in a dip as the song ended.

Rory smiled, as they went through the familiar steps. Stepping back slightly, to regain her footing so they could stand properly, her heel slipped on the highly polished floor. Closing her eyes quickly, she gasped.

With a muttered curse, Tristan hauled Rory into the safety of his arms, not letting her tumble to the floor.

Opening her eyes, Rory looked into Tristan's, only inches from her own. She took a deep breath, and succeeded in having her chest pressed against him more firmly.

Tristan looked into Rory's clear blue eyes, and knew that he had to kiss her. Even if it was just a small light feathery kiss that would do nothing but make him want more. He had to. Moving his head forward slightly, he saw Rory close her eyes as his mouth descended on hers.

Suddenly, the opening chords to a loud and fast song came blaring through the speakers. Jolted to reality, Tristan abruptly straightened, Rory still in his arms.

Looking at him, she took a deep breath, refusing to believe what had just happened. . .or almost happened. Stepping back, she ran her hands over her dress, "Are you thirsty?" She blurted, "I'm thirsty. Do you want a bottle of water? I'll get you one." She turned off of the dance floor, and out of his sight.

Watching her walk away, Tristan sighed, and ran his hand over his face, ignoring the whispers, and obvious stares that were being thrown his, and Rory's -or rather the way that Rory had gone- way.

Walking over to the table that he and Rory had been placed at, he glanced at the empty setting that had, less than and hour before, had been filled with limp chicken, and half cooked rice. Thinking of how Rory's nose had crinkled up when she had taken the first bite. . . 'Just to be polite.' she had said. And with her watchful eye on him, he had been forced to choke down some of his 'dinner'.

"Here's your water."

The soft voice brought him out of his reverie; he looked up to see the subject of his thoughts, holding a water bottle out to him. "Thanks."

"No problem." She smiled, and sat down in her seat, her hand fiddling with her new necklace. "Can we get out of here? I'm going to die if I stay here any longer." She paused and sent him a teasing, yet pointed look, "And I do remember you saying something about getting me a real dinner. . ."

Tristan smiled, knowing that she was going to ignore what had just happened, and treat him like she would on any other day. And knowing that the other reaction would be awkwardness, he gladly accepted the former. "I do remember saying something of the sort. . . And I do believe it was supposed to be before the dance. . ."

"And that was so not my fault, You were late!"

". . .And you weren't ready when I got there."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she stood, "Not the point. You owe me dinner." She turned, and walked out of the room, in the direction of the exit, knowing he'd be close behind.

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"I'll have two Big Macs, a Quarter Pounder With Cheese, a twelve pack of nuggets, two super sized fries, and two Large Root Beers." Tristan rambled into the big plastic digital screen. Hearing the cost, and familiar instructions, he turned to Rory, "Satisfied?"

She grinned from the passenger seat, "There is nothing better than Chez McD after a horrible Chilton Social Night."

"Glad you approve." He smiled as he rounded the corner, took out his wallet, and handed the cash to the bored looking teenager within. Accepting the change, he pulled up to the second window, waiting for the large amount of food.

"We didn't get any good pictures for Mom to mock." Rory said suddenly.

"Well, there really wasn't that much to mock, except the obvious, which we did capture on film."

Rory tilted her head, considering, "True. The waiter with the un-regulation tie was pretty funny. . . Well, it was funny when Paris saw him. Her yelling in the face of a six foot four black man would amuse anybody, I think." She let out a chuckle, as the brown paper bags, and a drink tray were thrust into the car. "Ooooh! Food!" She grabbed the bags, sat them in her lap, and took the drinks to place them in the cup holders in front of them.

Opening a bag, she grabbed a fry, "Yummy." Closing it again, she pointed to the road, "Lets go back home, All I want to do right now is wipe off the war paint, and get into my pj's. We can eat there."

"Okay. Give me a fry, though." Tristan nodded as he pulled out of the parking lot.

She laughed and opened the bag again.

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Walking down the crowded hallway, Rory tried to ignore the whispers that had been following her all morning. She shook her head as she stopped at her locker, quickly turning the dial and placing her precariously placed tower of books on the shelf. Still hearing the whispers behind her, she turned around, glaring at the people looking in her direction.

The small crowed hurriedly dispersed, and she heard a low whistle behind her. Turning with one eyebrow raised, she faced Tristan, who was lounging on the lockers.

"Oh, Beware the Gilmore Glare."

She shook her head, "Did you see that? I mean, I know that this is Chilton, but seriously! All day it's been like this." She tucked her hair behind her ear, agitated. "Everybody's talking about us, Tris."

"They did before last night, too." He shrugged, outwardly casual.

"Yeah, but. . .Nothing happened last night. . . and now they're talking as if we were caught in the coat room having a quickie."

Tristan snorted at her phrasing. "Well, we know that that certainly never happened."

She leveled a glare in his direction, and grabbed a novel from her locker, slamming it closed. "I was in the damn bathroom and overheard some girls talking. . . Apparently, we've been seen 'making-out' in your car, in the bathroom, the boiler room, in empty classrooms, and of course we screw every weekend when we stay at each others houses." She ticked off each accusation on her fingers.

"Huh." Tristan was speechless, hearing her talk like that.

"Yeah, 'huh'." She clenched her jaw, and took a deep breath, trying to control her frustration. Fiddling with the necklace that Tristan had given her she leaned tiredly against the lockers.

"Well, we know that they're lies, Ror. . .and until something else comes along, we'll be the feature presentation for the Chilton Student Body."

Rory frowned; her eyes still closed, then, much to Tristan's discomfort, a smirk took over her face.

"What?"

She opened her eyes and smiled, looking around the crowded hall. Grabbing his tie, she dragged him to an empty classroom nearby.

"Okay, was there a reason that you just tried to strangle me?" Tristan gasped as they stopped and Rory closed the door.

Turning to Tristan, a devilish glint in her eyes, she grinned.

"Oookay, again, what?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"Well," She sashayed over to him and pushed him down onto the teachers desk, "If we're the main feature. . ." She stood between his parted legs and leaned down, "Why don't we make sure that it's entertaining?" She finished as her mouth claimed his.

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So. Merry Christmas! I hope that you're all having a wonderful Holiday.

And, please, tell me what you think.

Jayde