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: The New York locations mentioned in this chapter are all real. I have no idea, however, how difficult it is to get a table at Rock Center Café, as I have never been there. Please excuse any inaccuracies in that respect, and just pretend that since it's eight years in the future, things could have changed. Oh, and a caduceus is a symbol of the medical profession.
This chapter's quote is from Legally Blonde.
Unholy Alliance
by Grace
Part Eight: No one's called me a butthead since about the 9th grade. Maybe not to your face…
By the time Tristan was showered, dressed, and ready to go, it was nearly time to meet Lane back at the Plaza. Grabbing him by the hand, Rory impatiently dragged him out of the apartment, barely pausing long enough to let him lock the door.
Glancing down at their joined hands, he couldn't resist teasing her. "Man, you just can't keep your hands off me, can you Mary?"
Releasing him as suddenly as if he had burned her, Rory tried to scowl, but ended up giggling instead. "You," she said, wagging a finger at him, "are impossible."
"I know. Isn't it endearing?"
"Somehow that's not quite the word I had in mind…"
"Tsk, tsk, Gilmore. Hasn't your sharp tongue gotten you in enough trouble for one weekend?"
She instantly sobered. "We're okay, right? I mean, about last night?"
He reached out and re-clasped her hand in his. "We're fine," he said quietly. "I promise."
She smiled shyly, then broke into a full grin when the elevator reached the lobby. Darting out, she called back over her shoulder, "Last one to the Plaza is a rotten egg!"
Hustling after her, he yelled back, "How old are you? Twelve?"
She just laughed and picked up her pace.
Their impromptu race, however, was abruptly halted by the flood of pedestrians they encountered upon reaching the sidewalk. Not wanting to lose her in the crowd, Tristan hurried to catch up. "Would you settle for a tie?" he asked.
"Afraid you'd lose, DuGrey?"
"Hardly," he scoffed. "But if telling yourself that helps you sleep at night, you go right ahead."
"See, now, I try not to think about things that would give me nightmares right before I go to sleep."
"Ouch. What would you say if I told you that thinking about you gives me my most pleasant dreams?" he inquired suggestively.
She blushed, but her tone remained confident. "I'd say you must think I'm pretty naïve if you expect me to buy that line."
"Are you trying to tell me you're no longer a Mary? Have you crossed over to the land of the Magdalenes?"
Her blush deepened. "That is none of your business."
"Of course not. My mistake," he murmured. He took her by the hand once more, and was relieved that she didn't pull away. He told himself it was just so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd, but even he didn't believe himself.
* * *
Lane was glancing at her watch impatiently when Rory and Tristan finally arrived at the hotel. Catching sight of them, she hurried over.
"Hey! I was beginning to think I was being stood up!"
"Tristan DuGrey, disappoint a lady? Never!" he exclaimed with a flourish.
Rory snorted, then tried to cover it with a cough.
Facing her with an expression of mock horror, Tristan adopted a Southern drawl and asked, "Lorelai Gilmore, did you just snort?"
Playing along, Rory replied, "Good heavens, no. What-evah would make you say such a thing?" Her lilting Southern Belle impersonation drew curious glances from the other hotel patrons, and the trio collapsed into laughter.
Tristan regained his composure first. "So what's up first on today's agenda?"
Rory turned to Lane. "You wanted to see Rockefeller Center, right?"
"Ooh, yeah! Can we go ice-skating?"
Tristan and Rory gaped at her. Finally he said gently, "Lane, it's the middle of August. It's probably 95 degrees out. I don't think they'll have ice today. It's really only a winter thing."
"Oh. I thought it was year-round."
He slung an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. We may not be able to skate there, but we can certainly eat lunch there."
Rory looked doubtful. "Isn't it practically impossible to get a table there?"
Tristan draped his other arm around her. "Leave that to me."
Side by side, they strode out of the hotel, breaking into an impromptu Monkee-walk along the way. Thirty minutes later, they were seated at a prime table, where the other tourists waiting in the sweltering heat proceeded to glare at them.
Lane gaped at their surroundings in wide-eyed wonder. "How did you get us in here so fast? You know what; I don't even want to know. This is incredible."
He smiled. "I'm glad you like it. Now, what else is on the to-do list for the day?"
Excitedly, Lane reached into her purse and pulled out a list. "Well, I want to go to FAO Schwarz, Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Tiffany's…"
Rory and Tristan grinned at each other as Lane prattled on. When she paused for breath, he asked with a chuckle, "Lane, have you ever been to New York before?"
"Sure! But, well, the first time was a school field trip, so all I got to see was a museum, and then I came with my mother, so it was Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, and then home again."
"You have to understand—Lane's mom is really strict," Rory interjected.
"That's the understatement of the century," mumbled Lane.
"Well, then, today the city is yours," Tristan said. "Anything you want to do, we'll do. All you have to do is ask."
Lane shot a glance at Rory. "Tell me one more time why you weren't friends with this guy in high school?"
"Lane…"
"I think I can answer that one," Tristan said with a devious smirk. "Poor little Mary knew that if she spent any amount of time in my presence, she would inevitably succumb to my charms."
Rory bristled, and flashed a saccharine smile. "No, I just knew that being prosecuted for murder would put a major crimp in my plans to go to Harvard."
"Oh, admit it—you found me irresistible, and it terrified you."
"The only thing that terrified me was your ego."
Lane couldn't help noticing that with every barb they exchanged, Rory and Tristan leaned closer and closer to one another. The sparks between them were practically visible in the air. As she was trying to figure out how to remove herself from the table without them noticing, Rory's cell phone rang, and the atmosphere was shattered.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi Ryan."
Lane saw Tristan try to hide his wince.
"Just having lunch with Lane and Tristan."
"Rock Center Café."
"Tristan got us in."
"I don't know; it just happened. We're just catching up on old times."
"No, of course not, Ryan. You're more than welcome to join us."
Again, Tristan cringed.
"Just shopping and stuff."
"Are you sure?"
"Okay. Tell you what, why don't we do something tonight, just the two of us?"
"That sounds great. I'll call you when I get back to the hotel."
Hanging up, Rory returned her attention to her lunch companions.
"Problems?" Lane asked lightly.
"No, not really. You know how insecure men can be sometimes."
Waving a hand in her face, Tristan said, "Hi, still here."
Rory grinned wickedly. "I know. That's why I said it."
"Ow! You know, I don't think anyone's ever called me insecure before."
"Maybe not to your face," Rory replied, taking a bite of her salad.
They spent the rest of the meal engaged in genial, lighthearted conversation. When they finished, Tristan insisted on picking up the tab. Leaving the restaurant, they wandered around Rockefeller Center for a little while, and then headed across the street to St. Patrick's Cathedral. Although neither Rory nor Lane was Catholic, both were interested in seeing the beautiful old church.
When they walked in through the imposing, massive double doors, Rory noticed that Tristan dipped his finger in the holy water and quickly made the sign of the Cross.
"You're Catholic?" she asked, a note of surprise in her voice.
He nodded. "My grandfather insisted that my parents have me baptized when I was a baby. He was the one who always took me to Mass."
"I just never really pictured you as a churchgoer."
He shrugged. "I'm just full of surprises." He reached into the neck of his t-shirt and pulled out a gold crucifix dangling from a slender chain. "This was my grandfather's. He died a few years ago, and I've worn it every day since."
"Were you and your grandfather close?"
"Yeah. He was more like a father to me than a grandfather. My own father just couldn't be bothered."
Cautiously, Rory reached out and took his hand, something that was becoming a habit that day. "I'm sorry. My father and I weren't very close while I was growing up either, but things are better now."
He gave her a sad half-smile. "I don't think my relationship with my father is ever going to change."
She gave his hand one more squeeze, and then released it. "You never know."
Before Tristan could respond, Lane came up to them. "Okay, enough of this holy stuff. Let's go shopping!"
Rory and Tristan smiled indulgently, and dutifully followed her back out onto 5th Avenue. Once they hit the sidewalk, she exclaimed, "First stop, Cartier!" For the next four hours, they browsed through Cartier, Salvatore Ferragamo, Gucci, Elizabeth Arden, Godiva, Christian Dior, Henri Bendel, Fendi, the Trump Tower, Bulgari, and finally ended up at Tiffany's.
Lane and Rory both let out sighs of contentment when they walked through the doors of the famed jewelry store.
"There's something magical about this place," breathed Lane.
"It makes me feel like Audrey Hepburn," replied Rory, her voice reverent.
As the girls gravitated towards the display cases, Tristan hung back and smiled with amusement. He had never understood the appeal of a bunch of sparkly rocks. Okay, they were pretty, but it's not like they did anything. Now a nice Ferrari or Porsche—those he understood.
He watched as Lane made a beeline for the selection of engagement rings, undoubtedly wanting to ogle the ostentatious diamonds. Rory, however, remained near the other gemstones.
He ambled over to her slowly. "Why aren't you over by Lane? I thought all women your age wanted to stare at engagement rings."
"I've never really cared for diamonds. I don't think I even want one if I get married. I'd rather have an opal."
He looked at her in surprise. "Aren't those supposed to be bad luck?"
She glanced up from the rings she had been studying, and flashed him a dazzling smile. "Yes, but apparently that rule doesn't apply to people who have the opal as their birthstone."
"And who might those people be?"
"Why, the most remarkable people of all—people born in October!"
He chuckled. "Of course. Silly me. And if I recall correctly, you were born in October."
"You remember that?"
"Sure. After all, I'm still waiting for that birthday kiss."
She groaned. "I should have guessed."
As she went back to perusing the jewelry, her phone rang, and Tristan wandered off. Coming up to Lane, he inquired, "Find anything?"
She let out a melancholy sigh. "Oh, sure. Lots of things that I can never, ever have."
"I know that feeling."
She looked at him carefully, compassion in her eyes. "It really bothered you when Ryan called Rory earlier, didn't it?"
He nodded. "I guess I just wanted a few hours where I could forget that she's dating someone else."
"Unfortunately, forgetting doesn't make it any less true."
"Gee, that's encouraging," he said sarcastically. "Maybe you should look into a career as a motivational speaker."
"Tristan…"
"Forget it. My inner jerk got the best of me there. I'm sorry." Seeing Rory approach, he quickly excused himself. "I'll be right back. There's something I want to look at."
"Hey Lane. What are you looking at?"
Lane smiled at her best friend. "My dream engagement ring. Dream being the operative word. What's up?"
"Ryan just called again. Apparently, he got tickets to The Phantom of the Opera, so I need to get back to the hotel pretty soon. You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not. I'm sure I can convince Tristan to baby-sit me, if you're really worried."
"Lane, you know that's not what I meant."
"Yes, I do. I was just teasing. Seriously, I think it's great how close you and Ryan are getting. Besides, it's Broadway."
"Thanks hon. I promise, tomorrow it will be just you and me."
"Whatever. Anyway, today was great. I'm really glad Tristan came with us."
"Did I hear my name?"
"Oh, hi Tristan. I was just telling Lane that I need to get going."
"So soon?"
"Yeah, Ryan and I are going to the theatre."
He forced a smile. "You give RJ my best, and have a great time."
As they spoke, they had exited the store, and now stood back on 5th Avenue.
"I don't think I'll have the chance to see you again before we leave, so I guess this is good-bye."
"Before you go, I have a little something for you and Lane." He swiftly pulled out two small trademark-Tiffany-blue boxes, and handed them to the girls.
"Tristan, you didn't have to get us anything!" Rory protested.
"I wanted to. Now go ahead, open them."
Rory and Lane looked at each other. "You go first," said Rory.
Lane eagerly opened the little box, and took out a beautiful sterling-silver keychain in the shape of a caduceus. "It's perfect!" she squealed. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. "I love it. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
It was Rory's turn. Her box contained a keychain as well, but this one had a sterling-silver pen attached to it.
As she gazed at it in silence, Tristan looked down and said nervously, "I thought, since you're a writer and all…"
"It's beautiful, Tristan. Thank you so much." Going up on tiptoe, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
He gently pulled her into a hug, and whispered, "Keep in touch, Mary."
"I will," she replied. "I promise."
She took her leave shortly thereafter, and Lane focused on Tristan. "Think you can put up with me a few hours longer?"
"Of course! What's next?"
She blushed. "FAO Schwarz."
"That's one of my favorites."
"Really? You don't think it's silly?"
"Not at all! I'll even dance on the piano with you."
"Cool."
With that, they scampered off in the direction of the toy store.
To be continued…