Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually
Rating: R
Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2
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 here 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 title quote is from Clueless.
Unholy Alliance
By Grace
Part 20: Is that flannel a nod to the crispy Seattle weather, or are you just trying to stay warm in front of the fridge?
Rory's eyes fluttered open when she heard a car door slam. "Are we there yet?" she mumbled.
When there was no answer, she turned her head and saw that Ryan was no longer in the driver's seat. Tristan, on the other hand, was still sound asleep in the back seat. She stared at him for a moment, noting how peaceful and innocent he looked in his sleep. Not exactly words she would use to describe him under normal circumstances…
A blast of cold air assaulted her as Ryan opened the passenger door. "Good, you're awake," he remarked. "We're at my parents' house. I've got the luggage. Do you mind waking up Sleeping Beauty back there?"
She yawned and stretched before answering him. "No problem. You go on into the house."
"I'll be waiting for you."
He hurried towards the house, and Rory climbed out of the car. Opening the back passenger door, she leaned in and gently shook Tristan by the shoulder. When he didn't respond, she shook him harder and called him name.
This time, his eyes opened, and he gave her a sleepy smile. "Hey there, beautiful," he murmured. "What time is it?"
Rory was grateful that the darkness masked her blush. "Tristan, come on, wake on. We're at Ryan's parents' house."
Sitting up, he shook his head to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. "We finally made it, huh? It's not Napa, but I suppose it'll do."
She chuckled and grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the car. "I'm so glad you approve. Now move your butt—I'm cold."
"Aw, Mary wants to see me shake my booty!" he teased.
"Your booty's going to be a Popsicle if you don't get off it," she shot back.
"You're so demanding," he lamented, climbing out into the frosty air. "Where's RJ?"
"He took our suitcases into the house."
"What a gentleman, leaving you out here in the cold."
"Be nice! At least he didn't leave me the suitcases," she teased, giggling.
"Point taken."
Punchy with cold and exhaustion, Rory and Tristan climbed the porch steps and stumbled into the house, laughing softly.
Upon their entrance, Ryan immediately put a finger to his lips and shushed them. "Everyone's asleep," he admonished them. "Come on—I'll show you where you're sleeping."
Duly chastised, they followed him, stifling their chuckles. They didn't have far to go, stopping in the living room beside the couch. "You're going to have to sleep on the fold-out, Tristan. I'm sorry, but we don't have room anywhere else."
"That's okay. I could sleep on concrete right about now."
"We have a basement, if you're interested," RJ joked.
"Um, I'll stick with the couch, thanks."
"Fair enough. I'll bring some sheets and pillows down after I get Lorelai settled."
"I'll be waiting with baited breath. Night, Rory."
"Night, Tristan."
Ryan led Rory upstairs to a beautifully appointed guestroom. The queen-sized bed beckoned invitingly, and Rory immediately flopped down on it face-first.
"I guess I don't have to ask if you're comfortable," Ryan said with a smile.
"Mmm," she moaned happily. Rolling over, she said, "I'm never moving."
He sat down beside her on the bed. "As appealing as having you in bed forever sounds, it just wouldn't feel right in my parents' house."
Sitting up, she gave him a quick kiss. "Sadly, I'm far too tired to continue this flirtation. I'll see you in the morning, Ryan."
He kissed her on the forehead. "Okay. Goodnight, Lorelai. I love you."
"I love you, too."
She waited until he had closed the door behind him before standing up and hoisting her suitcase onto the bed. It was tempting to just crawl into bed in her clothes, but she knew she'd get too warm in the middle of the night and end up having to change anyway.
Five minutes later, Rory was snuggled under the covers in her blue cloud-printed flannel jammies. She had brushed her teeth and washed her face in the bathroom down the hall, and now she was all set for sleep to claim her.
The only problem was, sleep was nowhere in sight. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she groaned softly when she saw it was midnight—which meant her body thought it was one o'clock in the morning. Why couldn't she fall asleep?
Her question was answered when her stomach abruptly growled loudly. She hadn't eaten for twelve hours, and she knew sleep wouldn't come until she did. There was only one thing to do—she just hoped the Salingers didn't mind her raiding their refrigerator.
Crawling out of bed, Rory slipped on her bathrobe and a pair of slippers in an attempt to stay warm. She tiptoed over to the door, opening it slowly, and said a silent word of thanks that it didn't creak. Now all she had to do was make it downstairs, in the dark, in an unfamiliar house, without breaking any bones or furniture…
* * *
Flipping over from his back to his stomach, Tristan burrowed deeper under the covers, and clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. His T-shirt and pajama pants were definitely suited for warmer weather, and RJ neglected to mention where extra blankets might be found. His discomfort was compounded by the fact that he had felt rocks softer than the sofa-bed mattress. Less lumpy, too.
Tristan sighed and tried not to think about the fact that if all had gone according to plan, he would have spent his evening sipping wine from California's finest vineyards before retiring to an opulent cottage with a plush king-sized bed. If he had been really lucky, he wouldn't have spent the night alone, either.
Oh, whom was he kidding? Of course he would have been alone, just like he had been every single night for…well, for far too long. It wasn't for lack of opportunity, either. Women had always flocked to Tristan. But ever since Rory reentered his life…
Rory. She was the only positive he could find in being stuck in Illinois. It was really rather sad that even his positives had a masochistic bent. He knew spending so much time with her was unhealthy; knew that RJ would most likely propose before the year was out; knew that it wouldn't be long until she was popping out babies, who would know him only as "crazy uncle Tristan," the one that bought them the expensive toys.
He knew he should distance himself from her. That would prove difficult, of course, seeing as they were both Godparents to Paris and Jess' unborn child. Talk about being both a blessing and a curse…
The soft pad of footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted his pity party. Tristan stilled, not wanting a member of the household to realize he was still awake and ask him solicitous questions. Of course, then he might get that much-needed extra blanket…
There was a small thud, and then he heard a familiar voice whisper, "Damn!"
Sitting up, he called out softly, "Rory? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she whispered back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Trust me, I wasn't sleeping," he said dryly.
"How come?"
"Prisoners in 13th-century dungeons had better accommodations than this sofa. Plus, I'm freezing. Anyway, why are you up?"
"I'm starving," she admitted sheepishly. "Want to raid the fridge with me?"
"I could eat."
He climbed out of bed, dragging the blanket off and wrapping it around his body. Despite his makeshift robe, Rory caught sight of his T-shirt, and had to choke back her laughter.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Nice shirt," she giggled.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," she replied, struggling to keep a straight face. "I just ever would have pegged you as a Transformers fan."
"Hey, I'm not the one with a My Little Pony patch sewn on the knee of my favorite blue jeans."
"They're a classic from my childhood!"
"Yeah, well, so is this."
"Touché," she said. "Now come on, I'm still hungry."
Slowly and carefully, they made their way into the kitchen, where Rory fumbled along the wall until she found a light switch.
They both blinked at the sudden brightness, and then Rory's jaw fell slightly open. "Wow," she breathed.
The kitchen was immaculate, not to mention huge. The appliances were brushed stainless, and included a side-by-side industrial-sized refrigerator, restaurant-grade oven, and a six-burner range. The counter was Corian, as was the large island in the middle of the room. Suspended from the ceiling was an elaborate pot rack that supported a ridiculous amount of cookware.
"I don't think I should be in here," Rory whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because this kitchen is going to know that I have no idea what to do with anything in here, and it will self-destruct from the horror."
Tristan took here hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I'm pretty sure that the kitchen isn't equipped with artificial intelligence, so we should be okay."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Reluctantly, Tristan released her hand and went over to the refrigerator, while Rory approached a door that looked like it might conceal a pantry. They didn't speak for a few minutes, but then she let out a soft squeal.
Tristan poked his head around the refrigerator door and asked, "Find something good?"
"Easy Cheese!" she called back softly.
Brow furrowed in confusion, Tristan closed the fridge and said, "What?"
Rory emerged from the bowels of the pantry triumphantly clutching a box of Club crackers and what looked like an aerosol can with a bright orange cap.
"What is that?"
"Cheese and crackers."
"No, it's not. It's crackers and a can."
"Like I said, cheese and crackers."
"They make cheese in a can?" His disbelief was apparent.
"You've never heard of Easy Cheese?" It was Rory's turn to be astonished.
"Somehow I've made it this far in life without it."
"Then you've been missing out."
"I'm having a hard time believing that."
"Trust me, you'll love it."
He sighed. "Fine. I always said I'd try anything once."
She flashed him a wicked grin. "I'll keep that in mind."
Turning her attention back to their snack, Rory uncapped the can and squeezed about half an inch of a hard-looking orange strand onto a napkin.
Disgusted, Tristan asked, "You want me to eat that?"
"Of course not, silly," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "A little bit always get dried up after you use it." She pulled a cracker from the box and proceeded to squirt a generous amount of orange goop onto it. "I want you to eat this."
Grimacing, he took the proffered cracker and popped the entire thing into his mouth. After he had chewed and swallowed, he commented, "Hey that's not half-bad."
"I told you so."
"Gloating is a very unattractive trait."
"That certainly explains the way you look," she teased.
"Ouch! Okay, it's your turn to try something new."
"Like what?"
"Have you ever had caviar?"
Rory wrinkled her nose. "Ew. No."
"There's a first time for everything, right?"
"I guess that's fair," she conceded.
Returning to the refrigerator, he pulled out a loaf of bread and a tub of cream cheese.
"What happened to the caviar?"
"We have to do this right—I'm making toast points."
"Oh. Of course."
She watched as he pulled open various drawers around the kitchen, finally stopping when he found a knife. Placing a slice of bread on the counter-top cutting board, he trimmed the crusts with practiced ease, then cut it into four triangles. Tristan popped them into the toaster oven, pulling them out when they were lightly browned, and placed them on a napkin in front of Rory.
"Now what?" she asked.
Tristan handed her the knife and instructed her, "Put a little cream cheese on the toast. I'll get the caviar."
She looked at him skeptically, but did as she was told. When Tristan returned to her side with a spoon and an open jar of caviar, she tried not to cringe with revulsion. She watched as he carefully spooned a small amount of the dark beads onto each toast point, and swallowed hard when he turned to her expectantly.
"Go ahead, try one," he urged.
Rory took a deep breath, and placed one in her mouth before she could lose her nerve. Tristan grinned as he watched her expression transform to one of surprised pleasure.
"That was really food!" she commented quietly.
"Go ahead and eat the rest. I want some more of that Easy Cheese."
They munched on their snacks in companionable silence for several minutes. Then Rory asked, "Where would you be if you weren't here now?"
"Probably on an airplane headed west, but I'm guessing that's not the answer you're looking for. I was supposed to be staying at the Silverado Resort. They have these great cottages to rent, a golf course, fantastic restaurants, and a spa that you wouldn't believe."
"It sounds amazing. What I wouldn't give for a masseuse…"
"Stressed?"
"Yeah," she replied. "I'm not really sure why—everything is going well. It's probably a side effect of too many years around Paris."
He chuckled. "That would stress out anyone."
Rory nodded, trying desperately to stifle a yawn.
"You look like you need to go to bed."
She nodded her assent. "It's been a long day."
They quickly cleaned up the remnants of their snack, then made their way back into the living room. When they reached the sofa bed, Rory's exhausted limbs compelled her to flop down on top of it, only to immediately spring to her feet.
"That is the most uncomfortable bed in the history of the world!"
"Tell me about it," he said ruefully.
"Well, you obviously can't sleep here," she declared. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" he asked, trailing after her.
"My room. I have a nice, soft, warm, queen-sized bed. There is absolutely no reason for you to sleep on that…that Chinese torture device!"
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were propositioning me, Rory," he said with a grin.
She groaned softly. "I don't know why I bother being nice to you."
Tristan grabbed hold of her hand and replied, "Aw, you know you love me."
"Whatever. Now hurry up, I'm freezing."
He couldn't help smiling in amusement as she scampered into the guestroom and launched herself under the covers. With just her nose and the top of her head peeking above the comforter, she looked utterly adorable.
"Remind me one more time how old you are?" he joked.
She poked her head a little further out, in a movement vaguely reminiscent of a turtle. "If you're implying I'm immature, I'd be happy to live up to your expectations, throw a temper tantrum, and banish you to the couch for being mean."
He clasped his hands to his chest in mock horror. "Anything but that!"
"Good to know we understand each other."
He crawled into the bed beside her, careful to keep a safe distance between them. Tristan was far too comfortable and warm to bother contemplating what RJ's reaction would be to finding him in bed with Rory. Without another thought, be promptly fell asleep.
To be continued…