Title: Nine Months.
Author: Professional Scatterbrain
Rating: Pg - 13
Couple: R/T
Summary: Tristan returns to Chilton, and to the game, but Rory's not playing.
Note: Tristan left later on in Rory's first year at Chilton, so therefore the whole nine-month thing works (a little hint, it's a metaphor for the fic). After Tristan left Rory formed a fledgling friendship with Paris, Louise and Madeline, and by the time senior years rolls up there good friends, well, most of the time at least. Everything that happened with Dean and Jess happened except it happened all before senior year. At the end of the year before Rory told Jess she loved him, and he left suddenly straight afterwards.
I made Chilton darker, because I found the whole picture perfect school depicted on the show nice, yet unrealistic. I tried to model it around my High School, showing the competitiveness, the cruelty, and self delusion within my environment. I go to a girls school though, so the guy thing still might take me a while to work out. Suggestions would be nice as this is my first GG fic.
Chp 13: Hold my hand because I'm. . .
Of course in the duration of that night she met his family.
Of course.
There was the father with his eyes so much like Tristan's, and the brother who winked at her when he smiled. Then there was the head of the family name and corporation, grandfather, Janlan, whose eyes followed her all night long. He was another type of man Lorelei had warned her about, the kind that hated women. Frances and Annabelle were sweet, and beautiful and reminded Rory of tissue paper brides dressed in chiffon and glittering jewels.
What a maddening, and sh9immeringly cold, mixed up mess they were.
But of course they were.
It was obvious that Aiden approved of Tristan dating her; she had been invited to have dinner with then a week later. Well, she guessed an invitation to his home correlated with approval. She wasn't sure. When Emily found out, Rory could have sworn her grandmother nearly blinded her with that excited smile of hers. Of course Emily was happy now that her granddaughter was finally dating a boy from the right family, the right background.
Ironically, she was one of the many who believed Tristan went to 'boarding' school for nine months.
So here Rory found herself, a month later, outside the doors of the DuGrey mansion, dressed in a deep red floaty top, and a matching skirt that Emily had picked out saying it made her look glamorous and sweet. A combination that seemed to strike a discord, even to Rory.
Somehow she reminded Tristan of a dancer as she walked into the front hall of the DuGrey mansion. All long limbed, and shadowy movements. He had never intended any invitation of this sort to be issued to her. Elspeth, with the dark circles under her eyes, and the creased designer clothes wanted to meet Rory though. Maybe because of her promise. Or maybe because of something else. She had muttered something about the girl who made her brother act like a mean child. But despite her sugar promises he remained unsure of how the evening was to play out. Knowing sister he understood Rory probably wouldn't leave the family home bestest best friends with El.
No one did despite believing otherwise.
Perhaps the same sentiment could be applied to him.
Not like it mattered either way to him.
Greeting Tristan with her wide smile, and bright eyes, Rory allowed him to give her a chaste kiss before leading her into the formal dinning room. It was almost ironic when he looked back on the evening. His hand shook just that little, so he shoved them deep inside his pockets. Weakness could never be shown in front of his family. Elspeth, standing ever so perfectly in her heels and frosty green cocktail dress smiled in her usual manner as the two entered the room, but this only worried Tristan. Her manor could be disarming and deadly when she chose to be.
He had a feeling this would be one of those times.
She was far from sweet and didn't like to go against her nature.
"Elspeth, this is my girlfriend Rory Gilmore." Tristan introduced evenly, quietly observing his sister, hoping for once she'd heeded to his warnings, and at least attempt to 'nice' to Rory.
The older DuGrey smiled a smile that was far to like Tristan's to be calming, and shook Rory's hand. "I've heard so much about you. Tristan's very much enamoured with you."
Blushing, Rory laughed a little as she watched Tristan give his older sister a death glare. "Nice to meet you."
"Well, my brother, I'm afraid the dinner has been cancelled, Father just called. He, mother, and Daniel have been delayed by the weather."
"Annabelle?" Tristan asked more out of courtesy than worry.
"Staying with friends." Elspeth smiled. "So it seems it's just the three of us."
"What a pity." Tristan spat sarcastically as they sat down at the beautiful table.
Dinner managed to come and go without notation, Rory and Elspeth got on quite well. But it was obvious to Tristan that his sister took seldom used care not to embarrass the younger girl. For once Elspeth didn't make use of her observations. Perchance it was Rory's seemingly reserved nature redeemed her to the older girl. It was clear to her why her brother cared for Rory; she was rather witty in Elspeth's opinion, and almost always had some come back for every quip Tristan sent her way. However, there was something more to her than the other girls of society that Tristan was drawn to in the past. Perhaps this was what made Tristan care more than usual. Far more than usual. But only perhaps. At the end of the dinner, Elspeth excused herself, muttering something about an old friend she had to see, leaving the two teenagers alone in the cold empty house.
"Sorry about everything falling apart Mar," Tristan mutter apologetically, though somewhat glad she hadn't meet his parents.
"I liked Elspeth, she kind of like you, only nicer." Rory joked, lightening the mood.
Tristan smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist, "Nicer than me? Is that even possible?"
Leading Rory into the living room, Tristan flipped on the TV channel surfing mindlessly. Rory sat comfortable next to him, looking over the collection of DVDs before settling on Bright Young Things. Tristan let out a protest but she silenced him with a kiss. His lips were soft, and always left her wanting more. Words that were more fitting in a cheap novelette. Pulling away, a little breathless, she lay her head on his shoulder, watching the film out of the corner of her eye.
"I liked the film more than the book." Tristan told her just to annoy her.
Just to annoy her.
Only just.
Looking down at her, Tristan tried to imprint her face into his mind. So he wouldn't forget. She was picturesque girl, based on a variety of beauty that was more lovely than stunning, sweet as opposed to tart, truthful rather than manufactured, but mainly ever changing. She could never be figured out, and Tristan didn't even want to try.
She was lovely in every meaning of the word, and he all he wanted was to be with her.
As the film ended, Rory left his embrace and walked over to the large windows. It was snowing heavily. She shivered although she couldn't feel the cold. Tristan made his way next to her, his presents making her go a little weak in the knees. Still even after being together, he effected her like this, not knowing quite what to make of it, and him, she decided to take it as a sign of something good.
"Stay here tonight. It's not safe to drive." He stated taking her hand.
Without nearly as much fuss as he expected, she agreed.
In the chilly hallway, Rory fumbled with the mobile she hadn't quite figured out how to use. Dialing in the correct number, the number she had memorised as a child in home made clothes and pigtails, the phone rang and rang. With a slight annoyance at herself, Rory imagined her mother rushing around the house, frantically searching to the illusive cordless phone. Rory wondered why it was so easy to imagine, and why she detested the surety she felt as she thought about Lorelei's actions.
Routines.
Bells and class's.
Smiles and uniforms.
Lorelei and Rory.
As the answering machine picked up, Rory waited until the beep before shrilly singing, "Hey Lorelei, if you're at home, the phone should be in the Betty Bop vase Grandma hates-"
"Good memory mini me," broke in the breathless voice of Lorelei, "So what brings you to call your dear, wonderful, smart, beautiful mother? Surviving the meet the parent's night?"
Lorelei's voice sounded more than a little curious. More than a little something else as well. But Rory didn't bother to translate it. Maybe she couldn't. There was a silence that lingered between then even as Rory spoke. The words leaving her moth didn't change the static. They meant nothing, but Rory still spoke, and she still joked. She didn't know why. She didn't know anything. She didn't know why nothing she said meant anything, and why anything that did could no longer be articulated to Lorelei.
Rory couldn't explain.
She couldn't explain the state she was in.
What a mess.
"They cancelled. But I did get to meet his sister Elspeth. I like her, she reminded me a little of Tristan, but in a good way, not making me feel anything homicidal,"
What a lie.
But neither party called Rory on it.
No, that wouldn't do.
They were skating on thin enough ice as it was.
"That's good. I think I meet Elspeth at one of Emily's social things. For a DuGrey she was pretty cool." Lorelei stated thoughtfully, "A little unnerving, but then again she is a shark for the DuGrey family empire."
"Shark? She seemed more like one of those really intimidating polar bears, you know all pretty on the outside, dangerous when the claws came out." Rory replied with tangible pep in her slightly too cheerful voice.
She wanted to paint the sky with her voice.
But it was already grey enough.
Sensing a Rory rambling starting, Lorelei cut her off with an empty heart, somehow sensing the malevolent nature of the call, "Not that I don't like comparing people to animals, but what do I owe the pleasure of this call for?"
"It's snowing."
"Yeah," Lorelei muttered almost dreamily as she became distracted by the sight outside her home, "Isn't it pretty."
Then Rory snapped Lorelei back into the land of the focused and anxious, with her next words.
"And dangerous. The streets are all icy, Tristan said I could crash at his house tonight."
Lorelei paused, not knowing what to say. What was she meant to say? She couldn't order her daughter home despite wanting too. However, neither did Lorelei want Rory to stay under the same roof as her charming blonde boyfriend. Lorelei had seen the way he looked at Rory, with slate eyes that mocked Lorelei's suddenly feeble attempts to keep Rory safe from the society set of the rich and the dammed. But stuck between a rock and a hard place, Lorelei knew the answer as well Rory did.
This call was one made only out of courtesy, not for any real permission to be granted.
Reality was quite a bitter pill as the song stated with mocking wisdom.
"I guess safety is a good idea."
Bitter words on her tongue to match the bitter pill.
"Lorelei . . ."
"You and Tristan. You understand why I'm worried." Lorelei stated only for the purpose of stating the unsaid words that floated around each of the two Lorelei's uneasily.
This wasn't what Lorelei wanted, and what hurt her more, was the thought that maybe Rory wanted this . . . this opportunity.
"He won't do anything I don't want. He's a good boy."
Good boy?
Far from it.
Even as Rory felt the words leave her lips she knew they were lies, but to her credit they were only half lies. She knew, and she trusted that Tristan would never do anything like her mother was suggesting in her thinly veiled comments, but Tristan wasn't the 'good boy' she had almost jokingly described him as. He wasn't . . . he wasn't that simple, or easy to figure out, and nor was she Rory was beginning to accept.
At the other end of the line, Lorelei snorted in disbelief, "You really trust him don't you."
"He's a good person. But you don't have to trust him, you just have to trust me." Rory said, easing her mother's worries. Or trying too. Lorelei was Rory's friend, that's how there relationship worked, but when guys were involved, guys like Tristan, Lorelei was a mother, not a friend.
Well, that was how it was meant to work.
But everything had been so . . . different and uncomfortable in the last few months, and Rory felt ignorant and childish for believing she and her mother could have the so called easy relationship again. Lorelei, much to her distaste and her continual denial, was far too much like Emily for Rory to even pretend to ignore. Both Emily and Lorelei got what the wanted, and lived in the lime light through everything. Rory . . . well, she spent her time on the sidelines, or rather, she used to, now it seemed like she was on a different stage set to the competition the remaining Gilmore Girls' emotive Broadway show.
"I do, it's just I don't want you to do anything you'll regret. I know you're smart, smarter than I was at your age, but you're young, and you've got some much time."
Rory was meant to be smarted, she was meant to be the reloaded better version of her mother, but all Rory could feel was overwhelming exhaustion at fulfilling the goals people had set for her. She loved her mother, and she loved her family, but she was tried, and wanted to rest her eyes for a moment before continuing along the path she had been given.
"I'll be home tomorrow, and Tristan won't try anything without my permission. Good night Lorelei." Rory said, ending the conversation before Lorelei could start in on her patterned lecture about bad boys.
"Night my beautiful only child." Lorelei replied to the dial tone, her eyes wavering and listless as she tried to figure out how she had lost her daughter in the few months since everything changed. They were best friends . . . they were meant to be best friends forever. This was just a glitch she decided looking down despondently to the phone cradled in her hand.
Just a glitch . . .
He was watching the ice.
The slivers of winter sliding from the sky.
Feeling her presents moments before he saw her, Tristan bridged the distance, kissing her temple softly. "So it's all settled?"
"Yeah," Rory mumbled distractedly as Tristan laid fragile fleeting kisses along the column of her neck.
"That's good," he whispered as he reached her jaw.
Cradling his jaw in her hands, Rory brought him closer, gazing a light momentary kiss on his lips, she smiled dazedly. Under her touch she could feel his pulse speeding up, dancing and racing. His eyes were so clear, and gleaming Rory felt her knees buckling, and her skin heating under his firm yet gentle touch.
"Dance with me?" she asked him in the overwhelming silence of the mansion.
For a moment he looked surprised, but he said nothing, just leading her to the ballroom. The room was ornate and smelt of cigarette smoke from the last time it had been used. Guiding her body effortlessly, he led her in a dance without music or song. Humming in her ear a song she loved but never knew the name of phrases of beauty flittered past her ear.
"You're lovely." He told her in the soft lighting, his eyes telling her everything he couldn't voice as of yet.
Leaning down, he kissed her, his tongue dancing in her mouth, just wanting to be close to her. Her hands slid up the back of his shirt, tracing the defined muscles, and the silken skin. He followed her actions, but slower, not rushing for things that still needed time to happen. They both still needed time. Her satiny hair brushed on his skin, with one hand he threaded his fingers through her locks, as if afraid she might disappear if he let go.
"I think you're more stunning than lovely," Rory whispered to him as she pulled away to catch her breath.
He merely smiled enigmatically at her, tightening his hold on her, until he was satisfied.
She didn't feel awkward or terrible, or wrong.
She didn't feel like a pale skinned girl amidst the splatter of sound and mess of colours.
Lightly marking the pressure points on her neck, Tristan kissed the hollow of her throat, his hands shaking a little as she let out a gasp of pleasure. He planted a string of kisses down her neck, along her shoulder, holding onto her not for a moment even considering pulling back.
"Bedroom . . ." Rory told him and asked him in one word.
Told and asked.
Asked and told.
Too lost in the sensation of being with her to think rationally, Tristan started leading her to his room. Through the winding passages, marble floors, and crystal chandlers, until they reached the old library that was now his room. As his fingers skimmed along her ribs, causing her to breathe shakily, almost shivering as he touched her, he was brought back into reality.
"Rory? Are you sure you want this?" he asked, making sure he was looking into her deep cobalt eyes.
Slate against cobalt.
Electric yet hazy, glassed yet alive eyes articulated themselves.
"I want this, I want you. This isn't about our families, or friends, or anyone else. It's just us," she told him steadily although an undercurrent in her tone should have warned him otherwise.
Then with one simple gesture, reached a hand behind his neck to draw his lips to hers.
As she worked on exploring the texture of his lips, her free hand came up between them to rest against his chest. Her fingers curled, then flattened, and moved even higher to grip his shoulder. Slowly, she traced a pattern on the back of his neck and was rewarded when his hands, suddenly came to rest on either side of her hips. She was afraid of everything that was happening, but she wanted him, and she knew he wanted her too, that was meant to make this easier right? That was meant to make her confident, or at least calm.
Meant to.
Meant to . . .
Meant to?
Undressing her gently, Tristan found himself fumbling far too often than he liked. Fumbling and failing. Luckily she didn't seem to notice or care, her hands lacing in his hair, kissing his broad shoulders, only pausing to unbutton the formal shirt he was wearing. Pearl buttons and porcelain fingers. She didn't fumble. Or maybe she did and he didn't notice.
The bed was soft, but neither of the two teenagers noticed, too consumed by the moment. Tristan took him time exploring her body, not rushing in fear of intimidating Rory. He knew it was her first time although she'd never tell him.
She was nervous, so utterly nervous. More nervous than before an exam or test so forgot to study for. Though that was a rather naïve comparison that would never be admitted. Never. Her hands were shaking more than that time she had to speak in front of the entire school the year previously in her failed attempt to win the role of Student Body President.
"Tris . . ." words whispered in the darkness struck the blonde boy, slowing his actions he looked into those dark sky eyes.
"We can stop," he told her, reciting the words he remembered, yet never recalled speaking to any other girl.
"What if I don't want to?" she told him softly, her voice sweet and translucent in the fallen light. "What if I'm just . . ."
Her words trailed off, lost within the cold depths of the house. Tristan wondered if just being around him was draining her warmth away from her. He wondered if he was fucking her up. Did it matter? He was past that. He accepted what she did to him even if he didn't understand it. He couldn't pretend she didn't matter anymore.
Pretend it didn't matter.
Pretend.
They both did.
"I'll try not to hurt you," he promised, his hands now steady, long forgotten fumbles seemed out of the question now.
"I'm being stupid," she mumbled, blushing.
She hated herself for reverting to the persona she hated seeing in women, she hated the comfort she gained by his whispered pledge, she hated herself for never questioning his assurances, for believing him when all she'd learn her entire life was to trust only herself.
He smiled that unreadable smile of his, and kissed her in a way that was so pure and tender she felt her body hum, his touches reminding her of a forgotten favourite song from decade's ago. She tried to respond, to soundlessly whisper the lyrics of that song to him. She didn't know if he noticed, but she thought he did.
She trusted him, the though scared her more than what they were about to do. She was scared of him sometimes, afraid of how close he was, how much he could hurt her, but what chilled her above all her other anxieties was the possibility that this was it. Her 'this is it', the terrifying moment of finding out something that she ignored for so long might just be true, that he might just be true, and somehow he might be everything and anything she wanted.
Everything and anything.
Anything and everything.
So, in the moment she could stop what was happening or choose the opposite, she had to decide. But it had already been made, and as he touched her, now with some of the smooth and gentle talent she'd expected from him, she didn't want anything else but him. As they slowly, and nervously slunk further out into unexplored grounds, each of them tried to hold onto the moment, now afraid of what would come after.
He called her name, his voice low and husky on her skin as he kissed along her breastbone, her skin too pale and doll like to his eyes. Tracing the lines of her body his eyes lingered on a scar on her hip, he vaguely remembered her telling him about an accident on a volleyball court. She was the chameleon beautiful, not the classic beauty or the striking face on a runway; she was, to him, simple put, lovely. That was what kind of gorgeous she was, not the sweet princess that Stars Hollow tried to make her, or the Sabrina beauty that she was envisioned as by her grandparents.
She was a lovely girl.
Just lovely.
Lovely.
Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to her. Unknowingly she was forcing him to break all of his carefully set out boundaries. Unknowingly. She broke the remaining distances he created to stop himself from becoming anything other that in perfect control. He was no longer detached as she held onto him, one hand on his neck, the other on his back. His hand slipped along her spine, holding her as he eased his way into her.
What a lovely girl.
What a brilliant eyed boy.
Both of them unknowing and unaware.
Next Chp:The fateful siren's song
Pausing, Rory smiled angelically at him, "And you're a good person."
His eyes seemed to widen with shock, and glimpses of panic and anger were visible. Pulling away from her touch, he muttered, "No I'm not."
Thanks Belle for betaring my fic.
