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?
Disclaimer: All characters from the television show Gilmore Girls were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.
A/N: Yet another set-up chapter. I promise that chapter 15 will have actual Rory/Tristan interaction.
This chapter's quote is from Top Gun.
Unholy Alliance
by Grace
Part Fourteen: It's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
Rory was putting the finishing touches on a picnic lunch when the buzzer sounded in her apartment on Saturday morning. Her face broke into a wide grin, and she hurried to answer the door. She found Ryan waiting patiently on the front step, and as he opened his mouth to greet her, she pulled him into an intense kiss. He offered no resistance or protestations, but simply threaded his fingers through her flowing hair and pulled her closer.
"What do you say we forego the covered bridges and just stay here today?" he murmured throatily.
She giggled and pulled away, shaking her head. "It is way too beautiful of a day to stay holed up in here, no matter how tempting the offer."
"You're sure I can't persuade you?"
"Positive. Besides, my neighbor is moving out tomorrow, at least temporarily, so she's going to be packing everything up, thumping around, and just generally making a ruckus."
He chuckled. "A ruckus?"
"Bite me."
He gently nipped her earlobe, and then commented, "I think that phrase went out of use about ten years ago."
"What are you, a linguist?"
He trailed kisses along her jaw line before responding. "To be honest, I'm not really all that concerned with words right now."
"Ryan…"
"Lorelai…"
Resolutely, she stepped away from Ryan. "Those covered bridges are waiting," she said softly.
"Haven't they already been waiting several hundred years?"
She was beginning to get slightly frustrated. "Please, you know I want to see all of them while the light is still good."
He exhaled a resigned sigh. "You're going to use this for an article, aren't you?"
She flushed slightly. "Well, yes, but I wouldn't enjoy the research nearly as much without you."
"God, you sound like Tristan. Every once in a while, it's okay to leave work at work."
Rory smiled. "Not for a journalist."
"I give up. Let's get going."
She bounced up on the balls of her feet and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you! I just have to grab our lunch and my camera."
Within minutes, they were comfortably ensconced in Ryan's silver Lexus, heading out of Hartford.
Mere minutes later, a black BMW with rental tags pulled up in front of the modest brick building. Double-checking the address, Tristan emerged from the car, popped off his designer sunglasses, and slipped them into the breast pocket of his sport coat. Climbing the steps, he pressed the button marked "B."
"Hello?"
"Jenny Calabrese?"
"Yes?"
"This is Tristan DuGrey. We have an appointment?"
"Come on up."
Hearing the door lock buzz, he let himself in and mounted the staircase to the first-floor landing. Apartment A was on his right, B to his left. When he knocked on the latter, it was immediately opened by a petite woman with curly red hair and lively green eyes.
"Miss Calabrese?"
The woman giggled. "Mr. DuGrey, I presume? And please, call me Jenny."
He extended his hand, which she accepted with a firm grip. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenny—and it's Tristan."
"Please come in, Tristan."
He stepped across the threshold and nearly tripped over several large cardboard packing boxes.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jenny exclaimed. "I should warn you—there's stuff everywhere. I'm not the tidiest packer in the world."
He smiled. "Don't worry about it."
"Let me give you the grand tour."
As he followed her down the short entry hall, she inquired, "What brings you to Hartford?"
"Business, actually. My company just signed a contract with a local publishing firm to develop a web site, so I'll be spending a lot of time in the area."
"Now, when you say your company, do you mean the company you work for, or do you actually own it?"
"You don't beat around the bush, do you?"
She blushed. "I apologize. This isn't the first time my big mouth and curiosity have gotten me into trouble."
"Don't worry about it! I find it kind of refreshing. And to answer your question, it really is my company, although I do have a partner now. I got started about three years ago."
"That sounds so exciting! I'd love to be able to do something like that."
"It's more hard work than excitement. What about you? I hear you're going overseas."
"You're rather well-informed, aren't you?"
"I have my ways."
"I'm sure you do. Anyway, yes, I'm going to be spending at least the next six months in Rome, working on my doctoral thesis in pre-Christian theology."
"You're a PhD candidate? Impressive."
"Thank you. Anyhow, as you can see, it's a one-bedroom apartment. There's a full bathroom off the bedroom, and a half-bath over there," she said, pointing to indicate the location. "I'll be leaving all of my furniture here, but there's a storage locker in the basement. You can put some of my stuff down there if you'd rather bring in your own things."
"I'm sure your furniture will be fine—I'm trying to keep this move as hassle-free as possible."
"Makes sense. Now, all the utilities—heat, electric, and water—are included, so all you'll have to worry about it rent and the telephone."
"Sounds great. How are the neighbors?"
"They're okay. There are only four apartments in the building, and I don't really know the people up in C and D. The girl over in A is sweet enough. She keeps pretty much to herself, though."
"What, no wild parties on the weekends?"
She grinned. "Sorry."
"I'll live. The place looks great. How much per month?"
She named a surprisingly low figure, which he quickly agreed to. She answered a few more of his questions, and they sealed the day with a handshake.
"So when can I move in?" he inquired.
"Tomorrow, if you want. My flight to Rome leaves LaGuardia at noon."
"You're flying out of New York?"
"Yeah. There's not exactly an overabundance of flights to Italy from Bradley."
"Good point. Well, since you're leaving so soon, what do you say I take you out for a farewell luncheon?"
"I'd like that. Just let me go change."
When she disappeared into the bedroom, Tristan pulled out his cell phone and called Paris.
"Hello?"
"Jess? It's Tristan. Is Paris home?"
"Sure, man. Hang on a minute."
A few seconds elapsed, and then he heard, "Hey Tristan. What's up?"
"Your tip paid off—I now have a place to live for the foreseeable future."
"That's great! When do you move in?"
"Tomorrow. I'm taking Jenny out to lunch today, kind of as a thank-you."
"Jenny?"
"The girl who lives in the apartment."
Paris chuckled. "You don't waste any time, do you?"
"Come on, it's not like that. Besides, she's leaving for Italy tomorrow."
"Whatever you say, Tristan."
"Anyway… Could you give me Rory's home number? I want to give her a call, let her know we can get started on Monday."
"Sure. It's 555-1088. Same area code as mine."
"Thanks. Look, I have to go, but I'll see you on Monday."
"Sure thing. Let me know if you need any help getting settled."
"Will do. Bye, Paris."
"Bye."
Just as he was hanging up, Jenny emerged from the bedroom. It was all he could do not to chuckle at her complete transformation. Gone were the cutoff jeans, faded t-shirt, messy ponytail, and bare face. In their place were a swirling black mini-skirt, red halter top, neatly combed hair, and delicately hued make-up. Some women just never seemed to learn the art of subtlety.
"Ready to go?" she asked cheerily.
"Definitely. Any place in particular you'd like to go?"
Chattering animatedly, she led him out of the apartment. Upon seeing the BMW, she became even more excited. Trailing behind her, Tristan rolled his eyes and wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into.
* * *
Directing Ryan where to park, Rory eagerly jumped out of the car, camera in hand. Ryan followed at a slightly slower pace.
As Rory bounded towards the sloping river banks, Ryan called after her, "Lorelai, where exactly are we?"
She spun around, a wide grin on her face. "Welcome to West Cornwall, Connecticut, on the banks of the Housatonic River!"
"That's great. When exactly are we eating?"
"Patience! This is only our third bridge!"
"But I'm hungry!" he whined.
"Okay, now you're starting to sound like my mother, and, quite frankly, that frightens me. Tell you what—you get the picnic all set up while I take my pictures."
"Fair enough."
The next twenty minutes passed quickly. Ryan and the picnic had been waiting on Rory for the past ten, and he was beginning to wonder where she had disappeared to for so long. Taking a quick glance around to ensure that no one was going to usurp their lunch, Ryan cautiously made his way down closer to the river, where the tumbling rapids made a thunderous echo. His heart clenched in fear when he spied Rory perched precariously on a boulder, sighting something through that dratted camera of hers. Not wanting to startle her and send her falling into the violent water, he waited until she stood up and turned in his direction.
"Almost done?" he called to her.
She looked up, slightly surprised. "Geez, I didn't even hear you. Where'd you come from?"
"Our picnic," he responded pointedly.
"Oh, right. I'll be there in a few minutes. I just want to finish off this roll."
"Don't you think you have enough pictures? I mean, if you've seen one covered bridge, you've pretty much seen them all, right?"
She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. "Of course not! Each one has a different character, a different history! Besides, isn't it beautiful?"
He shrugged. "I guess. I'm just partial to the New York City skyline lit up at night."
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Really? I mean, I suppose that's an impressive sight, but after growing up in Stars Hollow, I'll never truly be a city girl."
"Well, growing up in Chicago, I'll never be a country boy."
A look of sadness briefly flitted across her features, but she quickly shook it off. "How about we agree to disagree?"
"Whatever."
"Look, why don't you go back and start eating? I'll be there soon."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." When he turned and began to walk away, Rory refocused her attention on the view through her camera lens. It just didn't seem as beautiful as it had a few minutes earlier. A frisson of dissatisfaction ran through her.
After all, wasn't her Prince Charming supposed to want to build her a castle in the country?"
* * *
Dr. Lane Kim was just finishing up her rounds when the pager on her hip began to buzz insistently. Glancing quickly at the number, she headed out through the ambulance bay and pulled out her cell phone.
The person on the other end picked up on the third rang. "Hello?"
"You rang?" responded Lane.
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"Right. What's the good word?"
"Part 1 of the plan went off without a hitch. So far, neither one has a clue."
"Excellent."
"Are you going to be able to make it to Stars Hollow for the kick-off of part 2?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
"Great. I'll see you then."
"Sounds good. Bye, Paris."
"Bye, Lane."
* * *
Lorelai Danes was giving Emma a bath while Luke attempted to get Charlotte to eat. The phone rang, and she yelled, "Billy, can you find the phone?" The kid had some kind of radar when it came to the cordless…
"Hello?" she heard his sweet childish voice say.
"Yep. Okay." The sound of little feet approaching reached Lorelai's ears, and Billy soon appeared in the bathroom doorway, holding out the phone.
"It's Cousin Paris," he announced.
Nodding, she accepted the phone with one wet, soapy hand, and hoped she didn't electrocute herself. "Hello?"
"Hi Lorelai. How are you?"
"Currently at war with Johnson & Johnson, but otherwise okay."
"Oh. Should I call back later?"
"Nah. Now's as good a time as any."
"Okay. Well, I was wondering if you would mind having two extra people at dinner next Saturday."
"Not at all. Anyone I know?"
"One is Lane, and the other…" Paris quickly explained the situation—or at least most of it—and Lorelai's grin quickly became wider and wider.
"Sounds great, Paris. I think you and I might just be kindred spirits after all."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Lorelai. I'll see you next weekend."
"Looking forward to it."
To be continued…