Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually
Spoilers: May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including Lost and Found.
Rating: R
Summary: Future fic. Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?
A/N: I know, I know, there hasn't been enough Trory action. Well, you probably won't find it in this installment, either. I promise though—in part 6, things will start to get really interesting. Also, please note that the rating has been increased from PG to R. Although what is found in this chapter could probably pass as PG-13, I can't make any promises for what may occur in the future. Please proceed accordingly.
Unholy Alliance
by Grace
Part Five: And who are you, Jess, the Happiness Guru?
A week and a half had gone by since Tristan and Ryan flew back to New York. Rory and Ryan had spoken on the phone nearly every night since then, and there was an e-mail from him every morning when she got to work. She and Lane were planning to go for a visit the following weekend.
From Tristan, though, Rory had heard nothing. She was pretty sure he had spoken to Paris, but they had been avoiding the subject. In fact, the relationship between the partners had been strained lately, and tempers were beginning to fray. This was a fact not lost on Jess.
It was eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. Jess was sitting up in bed, rereading A Farewell to Arms. Paris lay beside him, trying to write up a proposal for the online magazine that wouldn't give Rory a coronary. The reading glasses that she hated to wear kept slipping down the bridge of her nose; her long hair was pulled into a messy bun secured with two pencils. Her fingers were dotted with blue ink stains from her favorite antique fountain pen, and she was chewing on her lower lip as she concentrated. Jess couldn't help but get turned on.
Carefully placing a bookmark between the pages—a habit he picked up from Rory—he gently laid the book on the nightstand and rolled onto his side. Propping himself up on one elbow, he gazed intently at his wife and waited for her to notice.
Eventually, she turned and glared at him over the top of her glasses. "What?" she snapped.
Ever so slowly, he reached out and withdrew one of the pencils from her hair, then brushed the fallen tendrils back behind her ear.
"Jess…"
"You know, you've been awfully tense lately," he murmured huskily.
She sighed heavily. "I know. It's just…"
"Tristan and Rory, right?" He pulled out the other pencil, and watched her hair tumble around her shoulders. "Paris, they're both adults. You have to let them live their lives."
"I know; it's just…" A breathy sigh escaped her as Jess scooted closer and nudged one of her pajama straps off her shoulder. "I don't want to see Tristan get hurt."
"What about Rory?" he asked, his fingertips trailing down her collarbone and dipping into the valley between her full breasts before beginning to work open her top button. "Don't you want her to be happy?"
"Yes," she moaned, arching slightly into his touch. "Of course I want her to be happy. I just wish…" she gasped as the second button came free, and his thumb grazed her nipple. "…that those two things didn't have to be mutually exclusive."
"Paris?"
"Hmm?" she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.
"I really don't want to talk about Tristan and Rory anymore."
She didn't argue as his lips descended and he began to devour her mouth.
* * *
Monday morning, Rory knocked softly on Paris' office door. Much to her relief, Paris looked up and smiled. "Come on in, Rory."
Smirking, Rory took a seat. "Somebody got lucky this weekend."
"Married people occasionally do," she replied dryly.
"Well, I'm glad to see you…happy. Things have seemed a little icy around here lately."
Paris just nodded.
Rory braced herself. This wasn't going to be easy. "Well, I couldn't help but notice that it started around the same time I met Ryan."
"So what's you point?"
"Paris, do you have a problem with me dating Ryan?"
"You don't think the circumstances are the slightest bit unusual?"
"Why, because he works with Tristan? Sure, it's a weird coincidence, but it's not like I'm dating an ex-boyfriend's business partner."
Paris just stared at her. "You really don't get it, do you?"
"What is there to get?"
"Look, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."
"I'm sorry, when did we revert to the fifth grade?"
"I didn't even know you in the fifth grade."
"That is so not the point."
"Just think about this, Rory—your words, your actions, have consequences for other people, whether you realize it or not."
"What are you talking about, Paris?"
"Just think about it."
"Fine. I came in to let you know that on Friday I'll be thinking about it in New York. Lane and I are going there for the weekend."
This gave Paris pause. "Are you going to see Ryan?"
"Well, yeah. We'll probably see Tristan, too, since we'll be in town, and we didn't really get to talk before."
"Right. Since you'll be in town and all."
"Yeah. Besides, Lane wants to meet Tristan."
Paris dropped the pen she had been tapping against the desk onto the floor. "You have got to be kidding me."
"You know what? I have no idea what is going on with you these days. Maybe you can let me in on the secret if and when you figure it out yourself." Angrily, she marched out of the office.
"Rory!" But Rory was already gone.
* * *
Three hours later, sitting in her own office, Rory was still trying to figure out what Paris had meant. Logic wasn't working. Reason wasn't working. So, she called her mother.
"Independence Inn. How may I help you?" The heavily accented voice was instantly recognizable.
"Hi, Michel. It's Rory. Is my mom there?"
"I am not her perzonal zecretary, you know."
"Michel, please."
"Fine."
She could hear him say, "Woman, zee oldest fruit of your loins eez on zee phone."
"Hey babe. What's shakin'?"
"Hi mom. Paris is insane."
"And this is news how?"
"It's not news, really. It's just that, um, you've been accused of, um, being a little unstable yourself, so I was hoping you could help me figure her out."
"I'm going to tell Luke you called me unstable."
"He'll agree with me."
"Hmph. That's true. So, fill me in."
When Rory finished telling the story, Lorelai was quiet. Finally, she said, "Well, it obviously has to do with Tristan."
Rory rolled her eyes, even though her mother couldn't see it. "Well, golly, Inspector Holmes, I never could have guessed that. Care to be more specific?"
"If you mock me, I won't help you, Watson. And don't roll your eyes at me."
"You haven't got a clue, have you?"
"Oh no, I most definitely have a clue. I just happen to agree with Paris—you need to figure this one out on your own."
"Argh!" Exasperated, Rory hung up on her mother. It was a conspiracy. A conspiracy, I tell you!
* * *
Lane drove in from Boston on Thursday night, and Friday morning, she and Rory were ready to go. As Lane hoisted Rory's small suitcase into the trunk, she paused and looked at her best friend.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Just checking. I know this whole Paris/Tristan thing has been bothering you."
Rory sighed. "Yes, it has. That's why one of the things I want to do this weekend is talk to Tristan. No one else seems willing to give me a straight answer. I'm hoping he will."
"I hope so, too. Now come on, I want to have lots of time to spend at the Met!"
The drive to New York passed quickly. It was a gorgeous sunny day in August, and they had the windows rolled down and the music blasting. They sang along at the top of their lungs, and periodically collapsed into fits of giggles.
It was late morning when they arrived in Manhattan. Rory had decided to splurge and get them a room at the Plaza. They parked Lane's car and got checked in, then walked down 5th Avenue to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Their first stop was the display of Arms and Armor, where they oohed and aahed over swords and daggers. They moved through the vast museum slowly, admiring sculptures by Rodin, ancient Egyptian art, and the Temple of Dendur.
Several hours later, they decided to take advantage of the rest of the beautiful summer day. The museum backed up to Central Park, and the paths were crowded with in-line skaters, joggers, people with dogs on leashes, and young mothers with infants in strollers. Rory and Lane bought hot dogs and soft pretzels from vendors, and then sat on a bench and watched the people go by.
Taking a large bite out of her hot dog, Rory asked, "So what else do you want to do this weekend?"
Lane chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Hmm. Tomorrow I'd like to go shopping on 5th Avenue, maybe check out Rockefeller Center and St. Patrick's Cathedral. Sunday I'd like to do more sightseeing—go out to the Statue of Liberty, go up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, and if we have time, visit the September 11th memorial."
"Anything else?" Rory asked teasingly.
"Tonight, of course, I expect Ryan and Tristan to show us an incredible night on the town."
Rory shifted in her seat, and refused to meet Lane's eyes. "Um, I've been meaning to talk to you about that…"
Lane's brow furrowed. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing…exactly. I mean, Ryan's definitely coming tonight, but he's still not sure about Tristan."
"Rory! I didn't come this weekend to play the third wheel!"
"I know, and I'm sorry! Ryan just told me yesterday that Tristan still needed some convincing."
Lane reached over and pulled Rory's cell phone out of her purse. "Then you convince him."
"Lane, I don't know…"
"Rory, please. Do it for me."
Sighing, Rory quickly scrolled through her phone book for Tristan's number and pressed "talk."
"DuGrey speaking."
"Tristan? It's Rory."
To be continued…