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-Polone 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.

AUTHOR'S NOTE—READ ME! You're not going to like this chapter, okay? But you should notice that the pairing still says R/T…EVENTUALLY. It's about drama, conflict…and of course, actually carrying out the entire plot as I have it outlined in my head. That might take a while. Many, many more chapters worth of a while. So BE PATIENT, and please do not leave reviews begging for "R/T soon!" We'll get there, folks…and I'd like to think it will be worth the wait.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I've been sick for the past four days. I'm cranky.

And this chapter's title quote is from The Cutting Edge, a thoroughly unrealistic yet delightfully romantic depiction of Olympic pairs figure skating.

Unholy Alliance

By Grace

Part Twenty-two: I bet you'd look pretty good from a few thousand miles away.

At 4:30 that afternoon, everyone gathered around the dining room table to enjoy the Thanksgiving feast. Rory found herself seated beside Ryan and directly across from Tristan, next to whom Kathleen had eagerly seated herself. Before the meal commenced, Ryan's father stood up at the head of the table.

"Would everyone please join hands and bow your heads?" he requested. When everyone had complied, he began saying grace. "Dear Lord, we thank You for this wonderful meal placed before us. It was in seeking freedom to worship You that the founders of this great nation came to these shores. It was their courage and your guidance that made it possible for all of us to be here together today. We thank you for our wonderful family, as well as the friends, both new and old, who have traveled here to share this meal. Amen."

An echoing murmur of "amen" circled the table, and then everyone seemed to erupt into conversation. Rory's eyes grew wide as a seemingly endless procession of dishes was passed around the table. There were veritable mountains of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and stuffing, not to mention cranberry sauce, three different kinds of Jell-O, salad, dinner rolls, green bean casserole, candied apples, and, of course, turkey. It wasn't long before everyone's plate was filled practically to overflowing. Tristan had almost forgotten what a traditional Thanksgiving meal was like, since he and his family had spent the last five years' worth of holidays in expensive California restaurants. He could hardly wait to dig in.

Somewhat less appetizing, however, was the attention that Kathleen Salinger was lavishing on him. After his somewhat disturbing conversation in the hallway with Rory, Tristan had returned to the living room to catch the rest of the game. His previous seat had been occupied during his absence, so he settled into a love seat. Minutes later, Kathleen had strolled into the room and settled in beside him. Despite Rory's warnings, Tristan had welcomed the company. She was actually a much-needed distraction.

Unfortunately, she had quickly worn out her welcome. While he had attempted to focus on football, she had chattered and giggled almost constantly, rarely pausing for breath. He quickly discovered that Kathleen was one of those people who talked with her hands—and her hands seemed preternaturally attracted to his arms, his knees, his hands, his thighs… Tristan had dismissed the first few affectionate touches as part of her personality, but then he started to get annoyed and uncomfortable.

Now that everyone was suitably distracted by the meal, Tristan was dismayed to learn that Kathleen had decided to step up her level of flirtation. Just as he was about to take his first bite of succulent turkey, he felt her hand settle possessively on his knee, and then begin a slow journey up his thigh. Tristan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, in hopes that she would take the hint and cease her…'exploration.' Instead, she merely tightened her grip.

Desperate, he wracked his brain for some way to divert her attention. Maybe if she thought he was involved with someone else…but whom? An idea dawned on him—he just hoped Rory didn't kill him for it.

Swallowing his turkey, Tristan began to speak in what he hoped was a casual tone. "By the way, Rory, Lane asked me to pass along her Thanksgiving wishes."

He cringed when she looked blatantly shocked. "When did you talk to Lane?"

"This morning. I asked her to join me in California this weekend." He held her gaze steady while he spoke, trying to telepathically convey that he needed her to play along.

To his immense relief, Rory nodded slowly. "Aww, that's so sweet. I presume she said yes?" When Tristan nodded his assent, she added, "She's been asking me about you lately."

"I'm not sure if that makes her brave or foolish," he chuckled. He noted happily that Kathleen had ceased caressing his leg, although she had not yet removed her hand.

"Who's Lane?" Kathleen asked somewhat coldly.

"She's Rory's best friend, and my…well, let's just say that I'm hoping to embark on a relationship with her."

The hand came off. "Oh. Rory didn't mention her at all…"

"Well, we're still in the early stages of dating."

Kathleen looked skeptical. "But she's going with you to California? What do you do after you've been dating a while?"

"The French Riviera, of course," he answered nonchalantly.

Rory coughed slightly, and Tristan was pretty sure she was stifling a laugh. "Sorry," she murmured. "The stuffing went down the wrong pipe."

RJ chose that moment to jump into the conversation. "So, you and Lane, huh, T? It's about time, if you ask me. I thought I saw sparks the first time you two met."

Tristan couldn't help noticing that Rory looked slightly disturbed by RJ's comment. "Really?" she asked. "I didn't see it coming at all."

Ryan smirked. "And people say men aren't observant."

It took a great deal of willpower for Tristan not to roll his eyes. RJ wouldn't be patting himself on the back if he was observant enough to realize that Tristan was in love with Rory.

The conversation lapsed then, and they managed to make it through the remainder of dinner relatively unscathed, for which Tristan was eminently thankful.

* * *

With a sigh of relief, Tristan stepped out of the house and onto the wraparound porch. The cold, crisp air was a welcome relief from the oven-like atmosphere inside. Leaning against the porch rail, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Lane's number.

After three rings, a very harried-sounding Lane answered. "Hello?"

"Dr. Kim, this is the hospital calling. Your presence is required for an, um, emergency turkey-ectomy."

"Oh, hello, Dr. DuGrey."

"Parents in the room?" he guessed.

"Yes sir. Are you sure you can't get someone else?"

"Nope. You're the only attractive young Korean doctor that I'm asking to go to California with me this weekend."

"California?" she squeaked. Hastily, she tried to cover her outburst. "The patient is from California?"

Tristan chuckled. "Here's the deal: you need an escape from your family, and I need protection from my family. Besides, you get a free trip to Napa out of the deal."

"What time is the procedure?"

"I'll have to call the airline and get back to you. My guess would be early tomorrow morning."

"Okay, I'll be there."

"I'll call you back within the hour with details."

"I'll be waiting for your call."

"Goodbye, Dr. Kim."

"Goodbye, Dr. DuGrey."

Tristan grinned as he hung up, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Rory spoke up from behind him.

"I didn't realize you were serious about dating Lane," she said softly.

"Geez, Rory, snoop much?"

"You're avoiding the subject," she accused.

"Calm down, I'm not dating her. I just thought it might be fun if she went to California with me."

"If you hurt her, Tristan…"

"Whoa, slow down." He took her by the shoulders and led her over to the Adirondack chairs. "I promise you, I have no inappropriate intentions towards Lane. I consider her my friend. We have fun together. That's all."

"So it's completely platonic?"

"Completely."

"Good."

Tristan smirked. "You seem unduly relieved. Feeling a tad jealous, Rory?"

Rory groaned. "It's reassuring to know that your ego hasn't suffered from the relationship draught you're in."

"Your compassion astounds me. I'll have you know that Kathleen Salinger was actively pursuing a relationship with me during dinner."

"Getting felt up hardly qualifies as a relationship, Tristan. I'm talking about something that's more than physical. When was the last time you had meaningful conversations and common interests with a woman?"

"You mean other than you and Lane?"

Rory had the grace to blush. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. As for when my last meaningful relationship was, let's just say it's been a while."

"Fair enough. But don't worry Tristan. I know you'll find the right woman someday."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "Look, I really need to call the airline…"

"Oh, right. I'll give you some privacy."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Tristan reentered the house, rubbing his hands together in a frantic attempt to return feeling to them. He found Rory and RJ snuggled together on the love seat by the fireplace. Not surprisingly, Rory was reading a book while RJ absently stroked her hair and stared into the flames. She glanced up when Tristan entered the room. "Everything set?"

"Yeah. I just hope Lane doesn't run screaming into a vineyard once she meets my family."

"I wouldn't worry too much, " RJ commented. "Love makes it a lot easier to put up with the quirks of potential in-laws."

"I don't think they've quite reached that stage yet, honey," Rory said.

"I'm sure it won't be long before Tristan charms her right off her feet."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Tristan said. "Anyway, none of this is going to matter unless I can get out of this frozen hellhole tomorrow."

"Hey, this frozen hellhole is my hometown!" RJ protested. "And may I remind you that Hartford isn't exactly paradise?"

"Touché," Tristan conceded. "So what are you two crazy kids up to for the rest of the weekend?"

"I thought I'd give Lorelai a tour of the city," RJ replied. "I think tomorrow we'll start at the Art Institute, and maybe go up in the Sears Tower. Then, on Saturday, we can hit the Museum Campus—the Shedd Aquarium, Adler Planetarium, and the Field Museum."

"That sounds like fun. They're all great places, Rory—you'll love them."

Rory smiled softly. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"I almost wish I could go with you—it's been a long time since I've seen Seurat's Sunday in the Park on the Island of La Grande Jatte."

"It sounds wonderful."

"Oh, it is, Lorelai," Ryan interjected. "Although, I've always been partial to their Monet collection."

Rory wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Actually, I've never been a big Monet fan."

"Me, either," Tristan concurred. "I always felt he was kind of overrated. Oh, but make sure you don't miss Picasso's The Old Guitarist."

"How did you get to be such an expert on art in Chicago?" RJ inquired, his tone just barely cordial.

"My grandfather. Wrigley Field and the Art Institute were his two favorite places in Chicago."

"You must miss him very much," Rory said softly.

He shrugged. "Holidays are always the hardest. But I don't want to depress everyone, plus I have to get up pretty early, so I think I'm going to turn in. RJ, you think I could get a couple extra blankets tonight?"

RJ leapt to his feet. "Man, I forgot to tell you. My mother nearly had my head for making you sleep on that lumpy old foldout. We have an actual bed for you tonight."

"Oh, great."

"Here, I'll show you to your room." As they mounted the steps, RJ commented, "I don't know how you managed to get any sleep last night."

Tristan sneaked a quick glance at Rory, then said, "Don't worry, I managed."

* * *

Tristan groaned and rolled over in bed, craning to see the clock. 6:29. He hated when he did that. It's not like the one additional minute until the alarm went off would make that much of a difference—it was the principle of the thing.

Not wanting to wake up the rest of the household for no reason, he switched off the alarm and crawled out of bed, shivering when the cold air washed over him. Grabbing his toiletry bag and robe, he headed for the bathroom.

When he stepped into the hallway, Tristan was assaulted by the scent of coffee brewing and bacon frying. He couldn't fathom who else would be up already, so he let curiosity be his guide and headed downstairs. He was stunned to discover that RJ was the mystery chef.

"Hey buddy, what're you doing?" he asked.

RJ nearly dropped his spatula. "Jesus, Tristan, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. So how come you're up so early? I mean, the farewell breakfast is sweet, but you really didn't have to…"

"Cute, DuGrey. If you must know, I thought Lorelai might enjoy breakfast in bed."

Tristan strolled closer to his friend, taking in the freshly squeezed orange juice, the strawberry crepes lightly dusted with powdered sugar, and the small, black velvet box nestled in the corner of the breakfast tray.

Swallowing the bile that had suddenly risen in his throat, Tristan managed to choke out, "That doesn't look like breakfast sausage."

RJ chuckled. "Go ahead, check it out. I think even you will approve."

Grateful that his hands didn't appear to be trembling, Tristan picked up the menacing little box and flipped open the lid. His breath caught at the sight of the one-carat diamond solitaire winking up at him. "Wow. That's an engagement ring."

RJ gave him a funny look. "What were you expecting, my high school class ring?"

"No, I just…I didn't realize you and Rory had reached the proposal stage."

"Yeah, it surprised me too. I mean, I never really saw myself as the settling-down type, but Lorelai's great, you know? Do you think she'll like the ring?"

"It's a beautiful ring," Tristan responded neutrally. Of course, if you knew anything about her, you'd realize she doesn't like diamonds and wanted an opal engagement ring.

"I know," RJ responded, somewhat smugly in Tristan's opinion. "What woman would say 'no' to that?"

With a little luck, Rory will. "I can't even imagine, RJ. Look, I have to go get ready if I'm going to make my flight. Good luck with the proposal."

"Thanks, man. Hey, you'll be my best man, right?"

Tristan forced a smile. "How about I let you know after she says yes?"

"Fair enough. Listen, if I don't see you again, have fun in California. Oh, and give my best to Lane. Hey, wouldn't it be perfect if the best man and the maid of honor were dating?" As RJ rambled on, Tristan made a break for the stairs.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Tristan was showered, shaved, packed, and ready to go. He heard his cab honk outside, so he grabbed his suitcase and carry-on and headed down the hall. His steps slowed as he passed Rory's room. The door was slightly open, and he couldn't stop himself from listening to what was going on inside.

His heart broke when he heard RJ say, "Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, will you marry me?"

Before he heard her answer, Tristan bolted down the stairs and out the front door.

To be continued…