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: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I would like to make it clear, however, that Ryan will not be going away any time in the near future. He is an integral part of the plot. Also, this story is going to be very, very long. I think.
Oh, and this chapter's quote is from 10 Things I Hate About You.
Unholy Alliance
by Grace
Part Seven: Who needs affection when I've got blind hatred?
As the final notes of the song died away, Tristan didn't release his hold on Rory. Instead, they began to move gently to the sound of "La Vie en Rose."
"What's so special about that song?" he inquired softly.
"It just brings back good memories," she replied, declining to elaborate any further.
"You know, the song is over," he commented, even as he spun her out and back to him again.
"I know." She simply slipped her hand back into his and continued dancing. "You and Lane seemed to be getting along pretty well earlier."
He slipped into his old familiar smirk. "Jealous, Mary?"
Rory rolled her eyes. "You really haven't changed, have you?"
"Sure I have. If I hadn't, I probably would have made lewd remarks all throughout dinner."
"Your restraint is downright admirable," she said sarcastically. "It must be tough acting like an adult when you're used to bimbos with the IQs of twelve-year-olds."
His eyes hardened, and he twisted her into another spin, quite a bit more violently than before. "You know, you're being awfully judgmental, considering you haven't had more than a ten-minute conversation with me since we were sixteen years old."
"Said lack of conversation means that I have no proof that you're any different than you were back then," she shot back.
"What, no faith in the rehabilitation powers of military school?"
"For you? It's doubtful."
"Do you always hold grudges this long?"
"Who says I'm holding a grudge?"
"Contrary to what you may think, Rory, I'm not stupid. I know I hurt you all those years ago, and I'm sorry. If I could go back and do things differently, I would."
She gazed steadily at him, her blue eyes darkened with confusion. "What I've never understood, Tristan, is why you did all those things to me."
He shrugged carefully, not wanting to disrupt the flow of their dance. "Because I could, I suppose. Because you were different, and I didn't understand you. Because you were a challenge."
"Those aren't very good reasons."
"I was a teenage boy. What exactly did you expect, some deep psychological explanation?"
"No, but I expected more than 'because I could.'"
"You want more? Fine. I did it because you fascinated me. I had never met anyone like you. I wanted to figure you out, and I could only do that by getting to know you."
"And you thought tormenting me was the way to accomplish that?"
"I reiterate—I was a teenage boy. I was stupid back then."
"Fair enough, I guess. So tell me something, Tristan DuGrey, who are you now?"
He grinned. "I guess you'll just have to get to know me to find out."
"Do you always get your way?"
"All except twice."
"Oh, really? And when was that?"
"Once was when I was shipped off to North Carolina. The other, well, let's just say I'm still working on that one."
"What a frightening thought."
"You have no idea, Gilmore. You have no idea."
The song ended, and he slowly stopped moving. "We should probably get back to our dates. We've danced to three songs now."
Rory looked completely stunned by that proclamation. "Have we really? Wow. You're a very good dancer, Tristan."
"Thanks, you too. I guess we just make a good pair."
She laughed softly. "Who ever would have guessed it?"
When they got back to the table, Tristan could tell that RJ was upset but trying desperately to hide it. This was confirmed when the other man said, "One more song and I was going to start thinking you were trying to make a move on my girl." RJ's half-hearted attempt at humor came out as a thinly-veiled threat.
Tristan nearly gagged at the phrase "my girl." "Well, I wouldn't want you thinking that, now would I?" he replied mockingly.
Sensing conflict, Lane broke into the conversation. "Tristan, why don't you tell me more about what you guys do?"
Catching on to what she was trying to accomplish, Tristan immediately launched into a litany filled with HTML, ISPs, Java, and quite a bit of other technical jargon that Rory and Lane didn't really understand. Still, it was a safe, neutral topic of conversation, so they nodded and "oohed" and "aahed" in what seemed to be the right places.
Ryan, Tristan, and Lane were on their second cups of coffee, while Rory was nursing her fourth, when Tristan finally finished his oral dissertation on ILRG, Inc. Lane blinked away the glaze from her eyes and said, "Well, I didn't follow most of what you just told us, but it sounded really interesting."
"Thanks…I think," Tristan chuckled.
The face of innocence, Lane turned to Rory and asked, "Hey, wouldn't Ryan and Tristan be perfect to design that online edition of the magazine that Paris has been pushing for? Since you're all friends, maybe they could even cut you a deal!"
Rory stared at the woman she had long considered her best friend, her eyes widening with panic. She had told Lane about her concerns that Paris would suggest just such a collaboration. Although spending this evening with Tristan hadn't been a completely heinous experience, she just didn't know if she could handle him for anything approaching a daily basis. On the other hand, Ryan was really sweet, and she could see herself starting a long-term relationship with him.
Regardless, she was going to kill Lane.
Before she had the chance to recover from her shock, Ryan burst out with, "What a great idea! Lorelai, why don't you talk to Paris when you get back, and the four of us can teleconference on Monday?"
"Oh, I don't know if that's such a good idea…" Rory demurred.
"Oh, come on, Ror, it will be just like old times! If we finish the project ahead of schedule, maybe we can even work in a performance of Romeo and Juliet, Act V," Tristan teased.
"I hate you," she murmured through clenched teeth.
He froze at her words. "I guess some things really haven't changed," he managed to get out.
For a split second, Rory saw anguish flash across his face, but then it was gone. "Tristan…"
"Save it, Mary," he spat out. Turning to Lane, he adopted a more cordial tone. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Lane. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm suddenly not feeling very well." Rising from the table, he quickly strode out of the restaurant.
"What the hell was that all about?" Ryan asked, confused.
Ignoring him, Lane said anxiously, "Rory, I think you should go after him."
The other woman hesitated. "I don't know…"
"Rory. Now." Lane's voice was sharp.
Nodding with a newfound determination, Rory left the table. When she got outside, she was just in time to see Tristan get into a taxi.
* * *
Sunshine poured into the luxurious hotel room, forcing Rory into wakefulness. Blinking several times, she glanced over at the bedside clock as memories of the previous evening came rushing back.
After Tristan's abrupt departure, the atmosphere had become awkward and uncomfortable. To Ryan's frustration, Rory had become withdrawn, and her good-night kiss was perfunctory. Back at the hotel, Rory and Lane had fought over what Rory perceived as an ambush with regard to the online magazine. Both girls went to bed still feeling upset, and it was a long time before either of them achieved sleep.
Twisting her head, Rory saw that Lane's eyes were already open.
"Morning," Rory said softly.
"Morning. Look, Rory, about last night…"
Rory sat up in bed. "Lane, wait. Let me go first. I'm sorry about last night, about what I said to you. What happened with Tristan wasn't your fault, and I was out of line to suggest that it was."
Lane also sat up. "I'm sorry too. I don't know what prompted me to bring up the magazine to Ryan and Tristan."
Rory sighed. "Don't worry about it. I doubt Tristan would agree to do business with me anyway."
"I just don't understand what went wrong. You and Tristan seemed to be getting along so well while you were dancing."
Rory flopped back against her pillows. "He said something to me, and I…reacted."
"What did he say?"
"He reminded me of a difficult memory from a long time ago, and I inadvertently reminded him of a different one in return."
"Don't you think you should try to talk to him, work things out?"
Rory laughed sharply. "I really don't think he wants to talk to me."
"You'll never know unless you try," Lane pointed out.
"Why is this so important to you, Lane?"
"It's not! It's just…I don't like seeing you upset."
Rory looked skeptical, but didn't press the issue. "I suppose it's worth a shot. I'll give Tristan a call later."
"I think you should go see him. It's too easy to hang up a phone."
"Because it's so much harder to slam a door in my face?"
"Rory…"
She tried a different tack. "I thought we were supposed to go shopping today. I don't want to abandon you."
"Rory!"
"Fine, I'll go see him! Is it alright if I shower and change first?"
"I suppose," Lane replied, grinning.
"Geez, I never knew you were such a tyrant."
"It comes from all those years of living with my mother."
"And here all I got was a rampant coffee addiction and a strange affinity for The Dukes of Hazzard…"
* * *
Two hours later, Rory stood in front of the door that reliable sources told her belonged to Tristan's apartment. Acquiring the address had been quite an adventure. It had taken four phone calls to the hotel concierge, who reminded her eerily of Michel, before anyone would agree to help her.
The fact that his apartment was within walking distance of the Plaza told her that Tristan was still living the high life. She had to sweet-talk her way past the doorman before being allowed entrance to the building.
Standing outside his door, she was actually mildly surprised that he hadn't gone all-out and sprung for a penthouse.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked tentatively. Nearly a minute passed without any response, and Rory was about to walk away when she heard someone fumbling with the locks.
The door swung open slowly to reveal a disheveled-looking Tristan. His hair was standing up in fifty different directions. His eyes were bleary and ringed with red, and he was clad only in boxers and a tank top.
"Go away, Rory," he said dully, and started to shut the door.
She reached out and stopped the door before he could close it all the way. "Tristan, please wait."
"What do you want?"
"We need to talk."
"I think you said plenty last night. There's really nothing more that I want to hear from you."
He began to push harder on the door, but Rory wasn't about to let him close her out. Moving quickly, she slipped between the door and the frame, and found herself inside Tristan's spacious apartment. The first thing she noticed was that the place was a disaster. Taking a step towards him, she was assaulted by the stench of alcohol.
"Tristan, are you drunk?"
He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. "Technically, I'm hung over. There's a difference."
"What happened here?"
He glanced around, taking in the couch cushions strewn around the room, the books knocked off the shelves and lying on the floor, the shards of glass from a decanter littering the carpet near one wall. "I gave the maid the week off," he said sarcastically.
"Of course you did. Tristan, I didn't come here to discuss your housekeeping skills, or lack thereof."
"Then why are you here?"
She didn't answer right away, just walked across the room, picked up a couch cushion, neatly returned it to its rightful place, and sat down upon it. "I'm here because I didn't like what happened between us last night."
"Which part? The part where we shared three dances, or the part where you told me for the second time that you hated me?"
She stared up at him, blue eyes wide with astonishment. "How can you even doubt which one I'm talking about?"
"It's simple logic, Mary. If the second is true, is it such a stretch to think that the first might also be true?"
It was Rory's turn to run a hand through her hair. "Tristan, you provoked me. I was angry. I didn't mean that I really hated you."
"Right, just like you didn't really mean it when you told Dean the same thing at the end of sophomore year?"
She winced at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. "I can't believe you even remember that, that you even cared what I said. Maybe I did hate you back then, I don't know. I don't think I really even knew you back then."
"And how about now?"
She looked around the room. "Well, this apartment certainly won't give me any clues to your inner psyche."
He grimaced. "I know. I guess I'm just not very good at 'nesting.'"
"Tristan, I am truly sorry for what I said. I didn't know you then, and I don't know you now. Please, I'd like the chance to change that, if you'll let me."
He finally allowed himself a small smile. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"I'm meeting Lane back at the hotel in forty minutes, and then we're going to do lunch and go shopping. Care to join us?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Spending the day with two beautiful women? Count me in."
To be continued…