Betcha didn't see this coming, huh? An update, I mean. You were just amiably strolling down the street when I ran up from behind, hit you with a baseball bat, yelling all sorts of things. That's how surprised you are. Right? I'm right, aren't I. Good.
I'm a pretty crappy person, this has been written for all eternity now, but I was all sorts of lazy and meh about it. I'm still very meh, but have taken advantage of this unexpected streak of energy nonetheless.
Nat beta'd this. In return, one day, I won't pike on her. That's pike, not puke.
She was a duck. A fricken' huge whale of a duck. Waddle over to the coffee you can't have, waddle back to the couch you can't get up from. Oh look, the dog pooped on the floor. Better clean it. Oh that's right, you can't! Can't walk properly and certainly can't bend way the hell over. And should probably stop thinking profanity, not a good example.
Where the hell is Tristan?
Walk-waddle back up the stairs, a century later reaching the top landing. Realize that life probably isn't going according to plan when reaching the top of the stairs is considered a victory. Waddle over to the bookshelf in the bedroom, find thesaurus and find new word for waddle. Toddle; sway; shuffle; wobble. Well that's not very dignified. Although nothing about this situation is.
Wob- Shuffle over to the closet and look in the mirror. Jesus, stop looking now. Awful frizzy hair, Rudolph nose, over-sized Madonna t-shirt with unidentifiable food-like stain down the front (suspected remnants from the Great Peanut Butter Revolution of last week), wrinkled track pants seemingly unearthed with the dinosaurs. Pre-historic clothes, very attractive. Not to mention the blown up stomach and million added pounds. Being pregnant sure did suck.
Was that the door? Were those footsteps? Tristan's back! Perhaps he bought food and also-...mmmm...fooood.
Oh, it is him! It is! Happy day, everything is as it should be. Big smile now.
What? Why does he have that look on his face? What has he done wrong? Gasp! Is that resentment and disgust? Well, that is just not on. He's leaving? Where! Why? For the love of god, why! Who's that behind the door- sweet mercy.
Nicole. Stupid slim skank. Homewrecker.
No, no...Don't cry. Show no weakness. Being a single mother is alright, Lorelai did it.
Oh, don't bother with the comfort buddy, there's nothing you can do!
"Rory..."
Go to hell.
"Rory, baby-"
How dare he!
"Wake up... Gilmore!"
Huh?
XXX
Rory blinked open her eyes, coming face to chest with a sight she had come to associate with waking up. She smiled and nuzzled the warm skin, breathing in the comforting Tristan-y smell of soap and bed. The images swimming in her mind moments before quickly faded as she deduced that it was a nightmare.
She wasn't pregnant, they didn't live in a house, they didn't have a dog and she most certainly did not own any Madonna t-shirts.
Tristan pulled her closer, dreading having to get up. He wondered briefly if perhaps they should have forgone staying at the Dugrey Estate (the one in Ireland, not to be confused with the myriad of other estates his family owned) in favor of one of those quaint little hotel/bed and breakfasts that seemed to randomly pop-up by the side of the road on the way from the airport.
"We have to get up." His voice was morning soft – husky and low, Rory's favourite. Tristan's entire demeanor changed in the morning. He was all charming and sweet and affectionate, damn any hour past ten o'clock. She yawned into his chest, shaking her head.
"Why so early?"
"Dugrey family breakfast. It's a 'big day and we all need to be up bright and early to save as much time as possible.'" He quoted his mother, although his voice was borderline mocking.
Rory made her way up Tristan's chest, depositing slight kisses at strategic locations until she reached his neck, "Sure," she began, nipping at the skin, "or we could stay here. Conserve our energy."
"Staying here," his breath hitched as she began working on a particularly sensitive spot, "will do nothing to conserve our energy."
Rory grinned, knowing full well what effect she was having on his way too easily turned on self. "Yes, but we'll get out of bed happy. And if I have to face your mother and father and the ex, I need a breakfast of champions. Not eggs"
Deciding to take control, Tristan rolled her onto her back responded in kind to her ministrations. "They've got waffles, pancakes & coffee. That rich, expensive Kenyan coffee that you have been known to bowl people over to get to." He paused, kissing the corner of her lips, "All I've got is this." He grinded his hipshard against her own.
"Kenyan coffee?" Tristan nodded and pushed her further into the mattress "Right, well it will have to wait."
His smirk quickly turned into a frown as there was a rapid knock on the door.
Before either could speak, it was hurled open and a fresh whirlwind of blonde, legs and tight jeans waltzed in.
"Why don't you just come on in Nicole." Rory ground out, her eyes hardening at the sight of the other woman.
She was completely ignored, as was to be expected from such royalty as Nicole. "Tris, your mother has demanded to see you downstairs in no later than five minutes." Her pink lips parted in a sweet smile, her eyes raking up and down his bare back appreciatively. "You've been working out, I see."
Had the woman no shame?
Rory, in turn, yanked the sheets higher up his back, covering them both. The Skank turned her attention to Rory, the sweetness in her tone taking on a more disparaging quality, "You look like you could use some more sleep Lorelei darling. You could probably get away with not turning up until lunch if you so choose, everyone would understand, Renee told me you looked awful last night when you arrived. Those bags are just unsightly!"
Tristan turned to face his fiancée, an apologetic expression gracing his features. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a light kiss. "I think she looks beautiful."
"Five minutes." The chirpy words echoed across the room as Nicole flitted out, conveniently forgetting to close the door. Speaking of which, Rory briefly wondered why the door had been open in the first place. She was sure Tristan had locked it last night, when-
"Sorry."
Rory nodded, sighing and resigning herself to the fact that as long as they would be staying here, she and Tristan would get no privacy and she would get no respect.
XXX
"Tristan, finally dear. You really need to be more prompt." Renee Dugrey pecked her son on the cheek as he walked into the large dining room, glancing in brief distaste at the girl attached to his hand before acknowledging her, "Lorelei. You're looking... slightly more well rested then last night, I'm glad."
"Good morning, Renee." Rory knew full well that Tristan's mother detested ever having made the offer of allowing Rory to call her by her first name. It was so disrespectful. Especially coming from someone from Hicksville, and illegitimate too! Besides, it could be confused for some sort of peace offering, and she really couldn't have that. Rory did however take comfort in knowing that Renee, as anally retentive as she was, detested tardiness. And this morning's particular tardiness was due to a particularly wonderful fuck (after the door had been locked. Again.) A fact that she was sure would result in an aneurysm for the society hostess if stated, and as such took all of Rory's constraint to keep her mouth shut.
"Good morning, mother. Where is everyone?"
"You two are late, the bridal party has all but gone to fuss over Danielle and Richard has taken your brother and the rest of the boys out to get their tuxedo's fitted. Luckily," Her face brightened considerably with the thought of being the bearer of such wonderful news, "Nicole has so kindly offered to take you to the tailor. It's on her way to the church - she's taken it upon herself to see that the decorations are going ahead without any mistakes. Such a lovely girl, isn't she."
Tristan looked away, squeezing Rory's hand slightly, "Yeah, it's nice of her."
On cue, the blonde appeared from the far end of the room. She had shed her casual attire for an elegant black dress (a dress that Harper's had described as "casually elegant, for a day at the races or a day in the office.") Rory knew of no one else who would dress as such to oversee a bunch of roses being placed in a church.
"Tristan," she began, her voice pleasant and melodic. "Shall we go? Lorelei, I'm sure you can find a way to amuse yourself until dinner. Perhaps a thousand words on the breath-taking view from your room? God knows that newspaper prints anything you write."
Rory smiled, deciding that letting Nicole get the better of her was beneath her.
Lorelai had taught her better.
"Well no, I think that seeing as there must be so much to do, why don't I go to the church and help you?"
Nicole opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Tristan, "Now that's a great idea. Then we can meet for lunch after the fitting." The invitation was extended to Rory, but the blonde had already agreed.
XXX
"No, no, no, no, no! I've told you over and over that the flowers are to go down the
sides of the aisle, not the back of the church. People will not see them there, you stupid man!"
No one even turned or batted an eye at the latest barrage of insults from the immaculately painted mouth. She had been yelling orders since the moment she stepped into the church, and all they could hope for was the ground opening beneath her and swallowing her whole. To think, such behavior in the house of god.
Sneaking down from the stairs, where Nicole had had her making sure the area was cleared for the photographer to get good shots from above, Rory sat toward the end of the church and prayed she would not get noticed.
So far, she had been commanded to a list of menial tasks, all of which she had done willingly and efficiently- as Rory Gilmore was prone to do. They also gave her a chance to get as far from Nicole as possible.
She sat at the far end of the pews observing as a torrent of abuse was directed at yet another of the workers. No, that was the priest. What fault could she possibly have found in the priest of all people? Was he, like, the wrong religion or something?
How could Tristan stand her? How did he get through dating her without slitting his wrists? Then again, the skank was always much, much nicer when Tristan was around. What she wouldn't give for him to see her like this.
Rory sat back in the pew, silently counting her blessings and thinking of all the wonderful things that made her life as fantastic as it was. It was all she could do to keep herself from hauling off and knocking Nicole on her bony tanned ass. She grinned as she thought of the wonderful things Tristan had done to her last night.
"Not even I'm perverted enough to think those sort of thoughts in a church." He whispered into her ear from the row behind.
"No, you're perverted enough to actually do them."
Momentary silence overcame the pair as their minds flashed back to the wedding of a friend a few months back. He was amazed that she had willingly entered this church, sitting as close as she was to the confessionals.
Turning her head slightly, Rory glanced in the direction of his gaze. He wasn't sure how she managed to blanch and blush, but there it was.
"Tristan!" He leaned forward, burying his face in her shoulder to smother his laughter. Unfortunately, his presence always managed to alert Nicole's inner Tristan Radar and she was standing before them within moments.
"Tris, you're here!" She flashed a wide smile, "Lunch?"
Well, I'm sure this is going somewhere. It has to be. It might even be going there so fast, I'll update in less than- holy crap! A year! That's when I started this? I am truly, truly sorry.
Despite that, review please.