Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually
Rating: R
Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 3
Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?
Disclaimer: The characters depicted her were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Pollone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.
A/N: This chapter's quote is from the ever-fabulous Say Anything.
Unholy Alliance
By Grace
Part Seventeen: Nobody thinks it will work, do they? No. You just described every great success story.
Rory took a deep breath, and prepared to knock on Tristan's door. You're being ridiculous, she silently berated herself. So you had one weird moment. It was probably just some bizarre electrochemical reaction brought on by the lightning. Get over it and move on. Resolutely, she rapped sharply on the door.
Tristan opened the door almost immediately, and Rory burst out laughing when she caught sight of him. There was a dishtowel slung over his shoulder, a smear of what her nose told her was soy sauce on his cheek, and there appeared to be a few grains of rice in his messy blonde hair.
"What?" he asked defensively.
She stifled another giggle. "If this is what you look like when you cook, I'm officially frightened."
"You try cooking by the light of six votive candles, and we'll see how you look."
"Tristan, I can barely cook in broad daylight. That's why we're here, remember?"
"Exactly—so no more comments from the peanut gallery!"
They just stood there in the doorway grinning at each other for a minute, and finally Rory asked, "So, are you going to let me in?"
"Oh, right." He stepped aside, and ushered her into the apartment with a grand flourish.
"So what culinary delights are you regaling me with this evening?"
"Sometimes, Mary, it's blindingly obvious that you're a journalist."
"I'm really not sure whether I should take that as an insult or a compliment."
"How about you take it whatever way will keep you from throwing the Sterno at my head?"
"Sterno?"
"We both conveniently forgot that our stoves, like everything, are electric. So, I had to get creative and use a wok, a fondue pot base, and Sterno to whip up some stir-fry."
"Wouldn't it have been easier to just make fondue?"
He stared at her blankly for a moment. "Well…yeah. But I made the stir-fry before I realized I had no stove."
"Typical male," Rory sighed. "Act and then think."
He folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Typical woman. Criticizing the way a man does a job that she herself cannot do."
"You know, if I wasn't so hungry, I'd continue this argument."
"So you concede defeat?"
"Never. But I'll agree to a temporary cease-fire."
"That's good enough for me. Now, I'd better get back to the wok before the Sterno explodes or something."
Rory giggled again. "Lead on, O Master Chef."
"Watch it, Mary," he growled, the low rumble of his voice sending an unexpected shiver down Rory's spine.
Slightly flustered, she cleared her throat. "Look, about what happened back at my apartment…"
He turned to face her, his gaze level, his eyes shuttered. "Nothing happened, Rory," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.
He was giving her an out, and she knew it. It would be all too easy to ignore that spark—the spark that seemed to plague them every time she and Tristan spent more than ten minutes together. It was something she had ignored and suppressed as long as she had known him; something she still wasn't truly ready to face.
Rory opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she understood, to let it slip quietly into the past, just another awkward moment they didn't speak of, but also didn't forget. Instead, she heard herself saying, "But something could have."
Tristan froze, the wooden spoon he had been stirring their meal with slipping from his fingers. "Don't start a journey you have no intention of completing."
She reached out and clasped his forearm. "I'm not," she whispered.
He spun around, wrenching his arm from her grasp. "Nothing happened," he repeated harshly. "Nothing can happen, or have you forgotten that you're dating my friend and business partner?"
Rory's eyes snapped with anger. "I haven't forgotten anything! But I'm sick and tired of this…whatever this is between us! Maybe it's chemistry, maybe it's attraction, I don't know! But we can't just keep ignoring it, hoping it will go away! We need to deal with it and move on."
"So this is what you call completing the journey?" he asked bitterly.
"What exactly did you have in mind?"
He advanced on her, playing on the danger of their physical proximity. "What I have in mind isn't suitable for discussion in mixed company. What I have in mind involves betraying someone I care about, throwing caution to the wind, and doing the one thing I have wanted to do since we were sixteen years old."
Rory's eyes had gone as wide as saucers. "Tristan…"
He cut her off with a gentle finger pressed to her lips. "What I want to do more than anything else at this moment is kiss you. But I won't, because I respect RJ too much, I respect you too much, and for once in my life, I respect myself."
Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks as she whispered, "And what would you do if I kissed you?"
"I wouldn't stop you."
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her lips drifted towards his. Just before they touched, the shrill beep of the smoke detector rang out in the apartment.
Springing apart, Rory stared down at her feet while Tristan hurried to take care of their now-smoldering dinner. When he was finished, he faced her once again, his expression anguished.
"Rory, look at me," he pleaded.
When she met his gaze, he winced at the pain in her eyes. "Tristan, I'm so sorry…" she began.
"Don't. Please. This shouldn't have happened. We both knew that. It isn't the right time. Maybe there won't ever be a right time for us. But if I ever do get to kiss you again, I don't want it to be when you're dating someone else, and I don't want it to be when you can try to chalk it up to bad lighting, lack of food, or bizarre weather phenomena."
She managed a watery smile. "Why are you being so nice about this?"
Tristan took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, sending rice grains careening into the kitchen floor. "I don't know. Maybe because we've wasted too many years as it is, and I don't particularly feel like jeopardizing our friendship just because I'm a moron."
"You're not a moron! And…you still want to be friends?"
"Of course."
"Good. So do I." She reached out and took his hand, and as he gently squeezed her fingers, the lights flickered on.
* * *
Tristan and Rory spent the next few days pretending that everything was normal between them, and eventually, Rory began to actually believe it. Obviously, the fact that she had even contemplated kissing Tristan could only be attributed to the lightning storm short-circuiting her brain. After all, this was Tristan. Sure, he was a good-looking guy, and they did have a rather compelling history, but that didn't change the fact that he was Tristan, she was Rory, and never the twain shall meet.
Besides, how could she forget Ryan? After the power was restored on Monday night, and dinner had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, she and Tristan had decided it would be best to go their separate ways. Rory had made a beeline for her apartment and immediately called Ryan.
"Hello?"
"Ryan?"
"Lorelai! It's so great to hear from you. How did the brainstorming go?"
Rory let out a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I guess. It really wasn't what I was expecting."
"It never is," he chuckled. "Tristan's quite a piece of work. I keep telling him he's going to scare away the clients, but he never listens."
"Well, as unusual as the technique is, it seems to work."
"I suppose. So are you just getting home from work?"
"Oh, no! We just a really wicked thunderstorm, and everything was knocked out until a few minutes ago."
They had continued on in a similar vein, making small talk and chatting idly, for the next forty-five minutes. Just as they were about to hang up, Rory said, "Hey, I'm going home this weekend with Paris and Jess. They're going to tell mom and Luke about the baby. Would you like to come?"
Ryan's voice was tinged with regret. "I'd love to, but I can't. I'm flying back to Chicago to visit my grandfather."
"How is he doing? Do they know what's wrong yet?"
He sighed. "They think it might be cancer. They're doing a biopsy this Friday. That's why I'm going home."
"Oh, Ryan, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I wish I could be there with you."
"Me, too. But you've got family obligations of your own."
"Yeah. Well, I better go. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"I will, thanks. I miss you."
"Me too. We'll get together soon, okay?"
"Definitely."
When they finally hung up, Rory had a smile on her face and a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach…
* * *
By Wednesday afternoon, Rory and Tristan felt they had exhausted all the possibilities for the website.
"I think that's a wrap," Tristan commented, pushing back from the conference room table. "I'll take this back to New York, go over it with RJ, and I'll be back with a proposal next week."
"Sounds like a plan. Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to get some actual writing done!"
"Fair enough. I'll get things cleaned up in here, say good-bye to Paris, and be on my merry way."
"It's going to be awfully quiet around the office for the next few days without you here."
"Gonna miss me, Mary?"
Rory grinned and threw a wadded-up piece of paper at his head. "Here I was actually deluded enough to believe we were making progress."
"We are. I just can't have you resting on your laurels, now can I?"
"Maybe we are making progress—your vocabulary seems to have improved."
"Cute."
"I thought so." Rory stood up and gathered her things. "Have a safe trip, and I'll see you next week."
"Have a good weekend, Rory."
"Thanks, you too."
No sooner had she left the room than Paris slipped inside.
"Getting ready to go?" she asked.
"Oh, hey, Paris. Yeah, Rory and I came up with quite a few great ideas, and I just need to go back to the city for a few days to hammer out a proposal."
"Before you go, there's something I want to talk to you about."
"That sounds ominous."
Paris flashed her a small smile. "I promise, it's good."
Tristan made an expansive gesture. "Please, have a seat."
In typical Paris fashion, she crossed her arms, cocked an eyebrow, and commented dryly, "Gee, thanks, seeing as I paid for this table."
"Details, details," he shrugged.
Taking a seat, Paris clasped her hands on the table in front of her. "I'm sure you've heard that Jess and I are going to Stars Hollow this weekend. We're going to tell Luke and Lorelai about the baby."
He nodded. "I think Rory mentioned something like that, yeah."
"Well, it's kind of a special occasion, and I was really hoping that you could be there."
Tristan's cheeks flushed, and his expression was one of astonishment. "Oh, Paris, I am so flattered, but I don't want to intrude on your family."
She reached across the table and clasped his hand. "I consider you a part of my family. You missed our wedding. I don't want you to miss this, too. Please."
He squeezed her hand gently. "I would be honored, Paris."
"Thank you, Tristan. We'll be getting into Stars Hollow at around six o'clock on Friday evening. Can you make it?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
"Good. Don't be late."
"Not a chance."
* * *
At five o'clock on Friday, Paris stood outside Rory's office, glaring at her watch and tapping her foot impatiently. "Come on, Rory, we have to pick up Jess in fifteen minutes."
"Just a minute, Paris! We can either have a full article go to press in this issue, or we can be five minutes late to pick up your husband. Take your pick."
"You know, this wouldn't be a problem if you had finished your article at lunch instead of cooing into the phone at Ryan."
Rory emerged from her office wearing a scowl. "You know, I would have been done five minutes ago if you hadn't been standing out here haranguing me."
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
Five minutes later, they were speeding their way towards Paris and Jess' apartment. Much to Paris' dismay, Jess wasn't waiting outside as they had agreed.
"Good grief, is anyone from Stars Hollow ever on time?" barked Paris.
"Just Taylor, and there's a reason no one really gets along with him," responded Rory. "Things just aren't as urgent in small towns. Well, except for my mom, but she's perpetually late, so it doesn't really count."
Paris stared at her. "What on earth are you babbling about?"
"Oh, look, there's Jess!"
"It's about time," Paris growled.
Rory climbed out of the passenger seat as he approached. "Hi, Jess."
"Hey Rory. How's it going?"
"There's a reason I'm surrendering the front seat."
"That good, huh?"
"Hey, she's your wife."
"I can hear you, you know," Paris snapped. "Now get in the car."
"Yes, dear," smirked Jess, as he and Rory slid into their seats.
No sooner were the car doors shut than Jess flipped on the radio. Classical music filled the car, and he quickly changed the station.
As rock music began to blare, Paris reached over and switched it back. "There is no way this baby is coming into the world knowing the lyrics to Clash songs."
"I brought a book on CD," Rory piped up from the back seat, hoping to stave off an argument.
Grateful for the interruption, Jess asked, "What is it?"
"Great Expectations."
He turned to his wife. "Is that okay with you?"
Paris nodded, and Rory handed the CD to Jess,
Forty minutes later, the three were engrossed in the story when Luke and Lorelai's house came into view.
Abruptly, Rory sat up straight as she caught sight of a shiny black BMW sitting next to Luke's dusty old truck.
Quietly, she asked, "What is Tristan doing here?"
To be continued…