AN: Yeah, so this got kind of long. But, it's almost entirely Trory interaction. Woo-hoo! Enjoy!
The restaurant, small and dimly lit, was crowded to capacity. He gave his name and they were ushered immediately to a table, despite her concern of a two-hour plus wait. She should be used to certain names pulling weight in certain places, but she wasn't. On her own, nothing had changed.
As the server departed, she opened her menu noting the lack of prices next to the culinary descriptions. While a familiar sight, it still made her uneasy. No one should be so careless with their money, and she couldn't afford to be.
He closed his menu after only a moment's study. "So, what brings you to London?"
She glanced up at him over her still open menu. The no-price scenario also tended to increase her indecisiveness—everything sounded incredible, and nothing could be weeded out for being out of her willing price range.
"Same as you, I suppose."
"I know you're here for school, but is there more to the story?"
She closed her menu now, setting it down on the table top, and devoted her full attention to him. "If you're asking what I've been up to since I last saw you, we could be here all night. It's been four years."
"So, give me the nickel version. I'll start. I got shipped off to military school, then Harvard."
"Harvard?"
He nodded. "You seem surprised," he mocked, as she stared at him wide-eyed and parted mouth.
"I didn't know they took reform-school delinquents."
"I've have you know I was educated at one of the country's finest military academies."
She smiled at their banter, but it faded as she remembered the look in his eyes the night of what would have been their Romeo and Juliet scene at Chilton. He'd looked so lost and frightened, despite his confident words.
"How was it, really? Was it horrible?"
Not surprised by her concern, he answered seriously. "Some parts were worse than others."
His words were true. The hardest part was leaving her there in that hallway, never having made her understand certain things. She hadn't seemed to want him to go—racking her brain as she stood in front of him, offering ways that might get him off the hook though they both knew it was futile, and the look on her face when he said he wanted to kiss her. That look had haunted him and kept him sane from then until now.
"Well, my nickel version is valedictorian, Europe, and Yale."
Her tone was more upbeat, having sensed the need to ease the serious tone.
"I'm impressed. You beat Paris and lived to tell the tale?"
"She lightened up after you left. Well, not that night, but after that. She'd always had some weird belief that I was the reason that you weren't in love with her. Then, of course, she got laid. That helped a bit, too," she grinned at the look on his face.
Her last comment bewildered him. "Funny, I thought I would have known, what with it coinciding with the start of the apocalypse and all."
Rory grinned wider. "Actually, she's quite the sexual predator. She even kissed me once."
"Okay, we need to throw some more change into this conversation," he insisted, leaning onto the table towards her.
Rory giggled, and his heart jumped. He'd made her groan in frustration, sigh, cry, and truly smile a handful of times; but never had he made her giggle. It was intoxicating.
"It was nothing, a stupid experiment on her part to get free drinks."
"We've both kissed Paris," he said slowly with realization.
"Well, I hope you at least enjoyed it, 'cause I sure derived no pleasure from it," she made a face.
He laughed. "I only did it because I had your voice in my head."
"Jeez, now I feel like I should make it up to you," she stuck out her bottom lip apologetically.
Attempting to squelch the millions of sexual innuendos that leaped to the tip of his tongue, he took a drink of his water and smiled. He couldn't help but tease her earlier this evening, but he wanted her to stay through dinner and thought it best to watch his mouth.
His smile caused a chain reaction in her body. Her stomach tightened and tingles shot down her legs. She shivered, but tried to cover that fact by shifting in her seat.
"So, you know London well?"
"Dad's firm has an office here, and we have a summer cottage outside of Bristol," he nodded. "What about you?"
"Uh, well, I've been here twice, briefly. My great-grandmother lived in England, though I'm not quite sure where, or if the property is in our family," she furrowed her brow, realizing that she should know these things better.
"That's a no, then?" he mocked her, and she shot him a look.
"So, who's on the rotation these days?"
He looked at her in surprise, both at her random shift in topic and her actual question. "Excuse me?"
"Or are you starting fresh here in jolly old England?"
Her tone was knowing, but not biting.
"I'm not seeing anyone if that is what you're asking."
"I'm surprised. You were never without a female companion back at Chilton."
"Yeah, well, being surrounded with a thousand teenage boys will really decrease your sex drive."
"Speak for yourself," she admonished him.
"Watch, it there Mare, or I'll start to believe you've lost your innocence." His heart jumped again. He was beginning to think that being around her might not be good for his health.
She teased him, tossing her hair off over one shoulder. "It had to happen sometime, didn't it?"
An ache that had been smoldering in him waved up, as if awakening. "Tell me it wasn't the damn bag boy."
She blushed. "Actually, it was."
"Are you still with him?"
"No, God, no. We broke up a long time ago," she looked at her lap, as if something had clouded over her thoughts.
He watched her intently, curious as to what had her attention. "So, you're on the prowl, too, huh?"
She looked up at him, almost startled. As if the idea of dating hadn't occurred to her at all. He should have figured—she was the ultimate student. She was probably wholly focused on her courses. He'd taken great pride in trying to break her intense concentration while studying in the past.
"Oh, no. I'm not looking to date anyone while I'm here."
"Well, that may be, but you never know when it's going to find you."
"Isn't that the truth," she said, sarcasm interwoven into her response.
"Did I say something to offend you?" he asked, unsure of what had caused her mood to sour so quickly.
"No, it's nothing. I sort of just got out of a relationship. I don't really want to talk about it," she said, playing with her napkin as it lay in her lap.
"Breaking hearts wherever you go?" he asked lightly.
"Something like that. So, what is there to do before classes start up?" she asked, clearly more than ready to change the subject. He knew there was much more to the story that she wasn't telling him.
"Well, I could show you around a little if you wanted, or we could take a little trip to our cottage. It's amazing, I really think you'd like it," he insisted.
"You don't have to baby-sit me," she scrunched her nose a bit.
"I'd hardly call hanging out with you a chore," he smiled.
"Well, if you want to. I would like to get to know my way around before school starts."
"My stint as tour guide begins tomorrow," he nodded.
"Late, right? Because I'm starting to feel some serious jet-lag effects," she yawned, having finished her dinner and pushed the empty plate away from her.
"Do you still like coffee?" he asked as the waiter came back around to clear their plates, and handed him the check.
"No. I've never just liked coffee. I have this sort of necessity to ingest it," she propped her chin up in her hands, and smiled sleepily. She was fading fast.
"I'll be sure to bring some of that to lull you out of bed, then," he promised.
"Such a smart man you are," she said, grabbing at the check.
He pulled it out of her reach and shook his head.
"Tristan, let me see it," she demanded.
"Nope. You promised to let me take you out to dinner. That includes my paying the bill. It doesn't include you trying to figure out how much we spent, or trying to leave the tip."
She scowled at him, and watched as slipped his credit card into the holder and put it on the table between them, like a challenge. She sat back in her chair, and sighed.
"Well, know that just because you bought me dinner doesn't mean you can go around telling people that we've dated."
"I wouldn't dare. I would imagine that would end with me in a world of pain," he smirked.
"That's right, it would," she promised. "A bloody and painful death," she added.
"Careful, Rory. You don't want to say anything now that you might regret later," he said as they stood up to leave. They got back out onto the street, and she noticed the air had grown chillier since they went into the restaurant. She pulled her arms around her torso, trying to block the wind on her chest.
"Cold?"
"I'm fine. Hey, didn't you promise me dessert?" she asked.
"You're still hungry?" he asked in amazement. She'd had quite a large dinner, eating more than even he had, and now she was beaming at the idea of eating more.
"So?"
"I thought you were tired."
"I can't sleep if my stomach is rumbling," she informed him. "You wouldn't want to be the reason I lie awake in bed all night, would you?"
She meant her question innocently, but he swore that deep down she knew how badly she was tormenting him. He swallowed, wondering if she'd think of him all night long, and shook his head.
"I guess if you put it like that," he paused. "What do you feel like?"
"Ice cream," she nodded with decision. "And you have to let me pay," she stipulated.
He smiled, liking her unending tenacity. "Fine. I'll allow you to buy me ice cream. Once."
Pleased with herself, she followed him into an ice cream parlor. She was surprised to find it was nearly eleven o'clock, and the place was almost ready to close. He stepped up and ordered a cone, and she did the same. Hers was coffee ice cream, his cookies and crème. She paid, and they wandered back out into the night, eating their ice cream.
She shivered, enjoying the cold dessert despite the nippy night air. She could be warm later. Ice cream was always worth it. She looked over to Tristan, who took a bite of his ice cream, and she broke out into uncontrollable giggles. She stopped in place, almost doubling over, and he turned to look at her in confusion.
"What is it? Rory, are you okay?"
"Ohmygod! I," she tried to speak, but tears sprang to her eyes and her breath was taken away by another round of laughter. The people that were out on the streets at this time of night stared at her as they passed the pair, but she remained oblivious to anything but whatever was tickling her.
"Rory, what is with you?"
"I'm sorry, I just remembered this story someone told me," she sighed, a last giggle escaping her throat as she looked at him in the eye. "You eating your cone reminded me of it."
"What's wrong with how I eat my ice cream cone?"
"Nothing, nothing, it's just," she giggled again, tears welling up in her eyes. He rolled his eyes, a little annoyed now. It couldn't be that damn funny.
"Rory," he hedged. "Take a breath, calm down," he instructed, moving her towards a bench. She shivered as she made contact with the cold metal, and he sat next to her to conserve body heat.
"Okay, I was in this really boring seminar one Saturday last semester, and the T.A. that was teaching it kept leaving to make copies, so we all got to talking. Someone said they wanted ice cream, and this girl started laughing really hard. She'd just spent a semester in Germany, and there was this ice cream parlor by the university that she and a bunch of friends went to a lot. They went with a whole group of people, and the German girls were making fun of the way that guys ate their ice cream cones," she paused, trying to stifle the giggles again. "Anyhow, no one got the joke, and finally the American girls begged the German girls to let them in on it. So now, the poor boys have all the girls laughing at them, and why they were giving this one guy a horrible time. Finally, they wore them down, and the German girls explained that they were laughing because there, how a guy eats an ice cream cone is how he likes having oral sex done to him."
Her eyes glistened, and he willed his cheeks to retain their natural color.
"So, what was the guy doing?"
"He was using his teeth to bite the ice cream instead of licking it or using his lips," she giggled, and he nodded in realization. "I've just never seen anyone actually do it before now," she let loose another round as he stared at her.
He watched her laugh, albeit at his expense, and couldn't believe how luminous she was when she laughed. He wanted to stay on this bench like this forever. He couldn't let her continue to mock him, however, he was in desperate need of a quick comeback to get her to stop laughing.
"What's wrong, you don't like it a little rough?" his voice was low, and something inside her reverberated. It got her to stop laughing, and she looked into his eyes. Her shoulder was burrowed into his, as he provided heat for both of them.
It wasn't quite the effect he was going for, but it worked. He meant to come off as sarcastic, but his voice was dripping with desire and intrigue. She was staring into his eyes, unable to look away, and he knew what she was seeing in them. He always had trouble hiding his want of her, but she'd always written it off as a game. Her own expression now was hopeful and confused.
Neither was aware of anything but their sudden proximity, and it wasn't until her wrist allowed her ice cream cone to tip too far and expel its contents on the ground that she looked away.
"Oh, man!" she exclaimed, somewhat relieved to have something else to focus on other than his intense blue eyes.
"Here, have mine. You'll treat it nicer than I would have anyhow."
She smiled softly, and accepted the cone.
"Not to mention the fact you were crazy to want ice cream on a night like tonight," he added.
"You weren't complaining before," she said as they stood up and continued to walk towards their dorm.
"You're right, I wasn't. But before, you weren't mocking me."
"Is this decreasing my coffee chances for tomorrow?"
He laughed, and put his arm around her shoulders in an effort to keep her warm enough so she could eat her ice cream without her teeth chattering. They got into the lobby, her finishing off the cone as they walked in. They made their way up the stairs, and he stopped with her in front of her door.
"So, thanks for dinner," she said quietly, not wanting to wake up the whole floor.
"Anytime. Thanks for the lesson in cone consumption," he smirked back at her.
"Right. Well, good night," she said, unlocking her door.
"Night," he said, watching her slip into her room before turning to head down the hall to his own room. When he walked by Dan's room, he saw that the door was open, and the glare of a television was the only light in the room.
Tristan stuck his head in, and Dan looked up. The volume had been turned all the way down. "What's up, man?"
"I'm a bit of an insomniac, I'm still on Chicago time," he said, looking back to the screen.
"Why don't you turn it up?"
"It's in Spanish. If I turn the sound off, I can almost hear the actual words in English in my head," he said, finally looking at Tristan again as he came in far enough to see old re-runs of Flintstones cartoons.
"Huh," he nodded, looking back to Dan, whose eyes were glazed over slightly from staring at the television in the dark.
"You want to join me?" he offered, trying to focus his eyes on him in the semi-darkness.
"No, I have to sleep. I'm exhausted."
"Big date?"
"What?"
"You and Gilmore. You went out, right?"
"No, man. We're just old friends."
"You sure 'bout that?"
"I'm sure. Night, man."
"Night."
With that, Tristan left him to his soundless Fred and Barney, watching as they attempted to get out of whatever pickle they'd gotten themselves into in the first twenty minutes of the show. His own thoughts were racing at the way the last four hours of his day had taken a turn for the unexpected. He looked forward to his dreams tonight.
