Just a little drabble I had stuck in my head. Dunno if I should continue or not… feedback would be good in helping me decide.
Standard disclaimers apply- don't own anything/anyone.
A delicate-looking brunette with piercing blue eyes at the corner booth let out a barely suppressed shriek of aggravation.
"Who the hell comes up with this stuff? And what makes them think they can charge an arm and a leg for it? My grandkids will still be paying this off! I swear to God I'm going to go crazy."
"Can't have that, now can we?" a smooth voice drawled in her ear.
Rory Gilmore closed her eyes in exasperation and counted to ten in her mind before opening her eyes to face the bane of her existence.
"What the hell are you doing here Dugrey?"
"Tsk tsk tsk. Is that anyway to speak to your future husband Rory? Really, I'm appalled!" The smirking blonde took a seat across from Rory. She in turn dropped her head onto the table in front of her- repeatedly, mumbling something along the lines of unfeeling, cocky, self-centered, egotistical, insufferable bastard.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" asked the perky blonde waitress, eyeing Tristan up and down not-so-subtly. The continuous thumps from Rory's side of the table went completely unnoticed as Tristan smiled disarmingly.
"No," Rory answered for him.
"Actually, Miss," he took a look at her nametag that was conveniently placed on her too-tight, that can't be regulation shirt, "Anne- may I call you Anne?" Said waitress beamed a smile at Tristan and nodded at him to continue. "I'll have whatever she's having- but instead of the three cups of coffee, I"ll take a Dr. Pepper instead." He smiled that blinding smile of his once more at the waitress before she scampered off.
"So, Mare, wha-" Tristan started, but was soon cut off by an irate Rory.
"Listen Tristan, whatever you have to say, I don't wanna hear, so just save it for your little cafe whore, okay?" She glared at him mutinously from behind the magazines and brochures surrounding her. Tristan wisely kept his mouth shut, but continued to aggravate her by staring so hard.
When the waitress came back and dropped off the day's special in front of Tristan, making sure to give him a glimpse down her too-tight blouse of course, Rory was scowling and ripping through page after page. Tristan was leaning back and enjoying the view. Not of the waitress though, but of Rory, and only Rory. He may have been an insufferable bastard at times, but he was an insufferable bastard for her and only her.
"Hey," he intoned softly. She looked up again- this time not with murder in her eyes, but with weariness. His gaze softened and he reached across the table and took her hand.
"I can help you with that stuff, you know? I know you're all about women's empowerment and doing things for yourself- which is sexy as hell by the way- but this is a partnership. We're in this together, no matter how hard you fight it. If you need help with something, just come to me and ask. Everyone knows I'm better at this than you are anyways." His lips quirked into a smile and he looked at the beautiful creature across from him.
Rory looked at him- her expression unreadable. It changed in the next minute, however, when her eyes started filling with tears. Tristan sat up- suddenly alarmed by the waterworks, and made his way over to her side of the booth. He pulled her up by both hands and took her seat, pulling her onto his lap. Rory choked out his name and wound her arms around his neck. They sat there for a while- completely comfortable in the silence surrounding them. That is until Rory started to squeeze- and squeeze- and squeeze some more.
Tristan was finding it hard to breathe, and told her so, to which she responded by squeezing even tighter before standing up suddenly. Tristan stood up as well, and looked at her warily. She grabbed his wallet from him, threw a few bills on the table, grabbed her bridal magazines, then dragged her fiancée away from the protesting waitress, from his uneaten lunch, and from their corner booth, all the while muttering about insufferable bastards.