Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

A/N: Here it is, sweethearts - Season 3's Finale :) It's been such an emotional ride, and I'm infinitely happy that I shared it with you! I hope you'll stay tuned for Season 4, because it's gonna be up very soon! :) Thank you for being there and taking the time to read and review!

'You nervous?' she asked as they stepped onto the makeshift dance floor with people applauding them.

Jess took her palm and kissed it once before placing it on his shoulder. He stepped forward so that their bodies aligned and their hips were touching, bringing her close enough so that she felt the warm solidity of his body against hers.

'Are you?' he rose an eyebrow.

Rory bit on her lip, her eyes darting to the side before returning on his.

'Everybody's watching,' she whispered, her nerves apparent in the way her voice trembled.

Jess held her a tad closer and leaned over her ear, whispering,

'Let them watch.'

Rory let out a shaky sigh.

'So you're not nervous.'

'I'm not nervous,' he let a slow smirk lift the corner of his mouth as he watched her, his eyes firmly set on hers as he swayed them over the dance floor. He was rock solid while she was shaking with nerves.

'You're not nervous,' Rory repeated, nodding to herself. 'And you're not imagining everybody naked.'

'If we don't count you, no I'm not,' he let out a low chuckle.

'We're married,' Rory whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

'Exactly.'

She looked up at him, her brows arched in question.

'We're married and you're dancing with me as my wife, our daughter is peacefully asleep in grandma Lorelai's arms and all is right in the world.'

'You just enjoy saying grandma Lorelai, don't you?'

'As I said, all is right in the world.'

'Did you think we would get here?'

'Do you mean Stars Hollow or do you mean get to this point in our lives where we're simply another cheesy newlywed couple?' he deadpanned.

Rory gave him a look. He shrugged with a smirk, turning them around as they continued to sway over the dance floor.

'I grew up with the idea that happiness is illusory, deceptive and ultimately - a lie,' he explained seriously, his eyes trailing on hers. 'I always thought it wasn't in the cards for me - that if something felt too good to be true it was simply not to be trusted.'

She bit her lip and looked at him, giving him her full attention. His eyes had turned a the color of hot brewed coffee.

The music started to fade and they slowed their movements, eventually coming to a halt.

'Since I met you' he continued, 'I've had a reason to anticipate every other day and happiness has become a-' he shrugged a shoulder, lifting a hand to brush a strand off her forehead, 'A possibility. Something that actually happens and I don't mind being a cheesy newlywed if it means that at the end of the day I'll be cheesy with you and enjoy the family we started.'

They were standing with their arms around each other, the applause of the wedding party guests dying out as they looked into each other's eyes. They realized that happiness was hard to get and at the best of times it was elusive. But right in this moment it was theirs and they let themselves enjoy the moment. Life would probably throw something their way sooner than later. But as long as it didn't crush them, they would be looking forward to more moments of pure happiness, just like this one. And this was a good place to start.

After her second glass of champagne, Dr Paris Geller realized something. She couldn't drink. Not anymore. Not tonight. Maybe later, when she got home and put Josh to sleep, she would open a bottle of wine and sip it alone on the sofa, but right now she and drinking were a bad idea. Very, very bad idea. Drinking made you lose focus. She needed discipline while alcohol made you lose control. In order not to make tonight awkward, she needed to filter her emotions very carefully, keep herself in check. Keep your distance. Keep things light and friendly. Of course. She could do that. It was Tristan, after all. Tristan Dugray, also known as King of the Land of the Light and Friendly.

Except that they had crossed that line a while ago and walked straight into the Land of Dark and Twisty. But she wouldn't let that minor detail bother her. Nope. Not bothered by Tristan Dugray's proximity. Not at all.

Do net get into touching range. Do not reach for him in any way. Physically or emotionally. And don't stare at his butt. Or his hips. He has such flexible hips. His rolled up shirt sleeves make his arms look even bigger. Oh jeepers. Focus, Paris.

She could do this. She could totally ignore how good he looked in his negligee outfit with his white shirt tucked into his chinos. And the suspenders - god, why - why did he have to put on suspenders? Okay now, focus. Think of his nose. He has an inadequate nose. His insufficient, inadequate nose. Focus on that. Yeah.

God, this was gonna be harder than she thought.

Paris threw a look at where Tristan was holding a soda, leisurely moving in time with the beat, his athletic grace always making his movements look seamless. She had to consciously restrain herself from walking up to him and snaking her arms around him, letting the need to feel him move, breathe, exist, take over.

Okay, Paris, enough. No more champagne for you tonight.

Sacrificing what you want for what is right. Is that how Tristan felt all the time? Well, it sucked. It sucked big time.

She looked at Rory and Jess on the dance floor. They had just finished their fist dance as a married couple and were standing with their arms around each other, looking at each other like the rest of the world didn't exist. Being able to feel that kind of love was a blessing. Paris tried to remember the last time she felt this kind of happiness. She looked at the champagne glass by her side longingly.

And then she heard her name from the speakers. That's right, Kirk was calling them out on the dance floor. The maid of honor and best man dance.

As their looks met while Kirk was babbling some supposedly funny joke, Paris mustered her best scornful look, meeting Tristan's arched brow, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her irritation. He left his soda to the side and walked towards her, his walk marked by his stupid natural athletic grace. She narrowed her eyes.

He stopped before her, making an exaggerated bow before offering his hand, still bent at the waist.

Oh hell with it.

Paris grabbed his hand and marched over to the dance floor, muttering something about him not finding it necessary to shave for the occasion, making it easier for her to look like the better looking best man out of the two.

Is it getting better, or do you feel the same...

Paris stopped midstep and turned towards Kirk, opening her arms incredulously.

'Really?' she seethed, her eyes shooting daggers at the man while he shrugged apologetically and started rummaging through his disk collection, looking for something else to play.

Will it make it easier on you now, you got someone to blame...

'I will kill him,' Paris snided, turning towards Tristan and putting one palm on his shoulder while he took her other hand in his. The amusement was washed away from his eyes. He looked at her, his eyes intent, careful. 'I will single-handedly, purposefully make him suffer, and then I will kill him, slice him piece by piece.'

Did I disappoint you or leave a bad taste in your mouth?

She rolled her eyes and turned to Kirk, making a cutting gesture with her fingers before her throat. Kirk looked nervous and sweaty, putting disk after disk out of his disk holder.

You act like you never had love and you want me to go without...

They moved slowly, her movements naturally robotic and his - purposefully stiff, keeping a respectable distance. They avoided eye contact as much as possible, and when their eyes did meet, she would roll hers at his carefully concerned demeanor. Everything had been just fine while they were bickering earlier, ignoring the pink elephant in the room, and no - the pink elephant wasn't an allegory for Miss Patty's outfit.

One...One...

As Bono and Mary J sang out their pain, Paris caught a glimpse of his face, Tristan's eyes intent on hers, trying to gauge her mood. The stylishly groomed beard, the military short cut hair, his insufficient nose and his eyes. Ah, his eyes. Once you got to know him, you realized just how expressive his eyes were. She looked down, trying to get hold of the swirl of emotions. She was Paris Geller. She could weather any storm. A dance with Tristan Dugray was hardly the thing that would kill her.

Nobody compared to him. The realization hit her with force, like a kick in the gut, followed by a bittersweet feeling spreading over her whole body. She inhaled, trying to brace herself, but all she got was his scent, ocean and wind, a free spirit looking to find his true place in the world, something rare and beautiful that wasn't hers to keep. She swayed a little, feeling dizzy, and his hold over her tightened immediately, stepping ahead to keep her steady. And just like that, the robo-swaying turned into an honest embrace. His arms were tight around her, his palms supporting her back, and she was gripping at his rolled up shirt sleeves with her forehead almost touching his chest, not daring to look up at him. She could feel him lean in and nuzzle her head, making her whole body break out in shivers. She stiffened. Squeezed her eyes. Tried to repeat the mantra 'kill Kirk' for a couple more times. Imagined Kirk being eaten by sharks. Or being tortured by snails. Being captivated by a group of Ariana Grande wannabes.

As the song was over, Paris broke out of his hold and hurried out of the hall.

'Paris...' Tristan followed after her, finding her in the garden.

'Give me a goddamn minute, will you?'

'I...' he rubbed both palms over his face and looked to the side before his eyes focused back on her, his hands resting back on his hips in a display of typical Tristan stoicism.

'Seriously, Tristan, if you have one sane neuron in that pretty boy head of yours, you're gonna shut up, go back inside and leave me the hell alone.'

He was looking at her intently, concerned and apologetic. She hated it. His concern. His apology. She wanted neither. And what she did want from him, he wasn't ready to give.

Her eyes flashed in warning before she took a deep breath and sighed,

'Please.'

Tristan stood for another moment, his hands still on his hips, the inward debate evident by the apprehensive look over his face. Then, as if finally reaching a decision, he nodded and after giving her one last remorseful look, got back inside.

Paris sat down on the porch, letting another sigh escape her chest. The night was quiet and warm. But then again, this was Stars Hollow. If you sneezed once the Mayor came instantly running, yelling 'bless you'. It was a quiet town, as quiet as quiet small towns came.

She felt something warm beside her thigh and turned to see Cerberus lie down and rest his head beside her on the steps.

'I hate angst,' Paris glared at the Labrador, as if he were the very reason for her frustration. 'It's stupid and indecisive and a complete waste of time.'

Cerberus blinked, his dark eyes looking up at her calmly.

'I can't be another airhead gawking up at him. Even you should be able to understand that.'

Cerberus let out a short sigh and his wet nose touched Paris' knuckles.

'I can gawk at someone I don't know. Someone I will never have anyway. Someone hot. Don't look at me like that,' Paris arched an eyebrow. 'I know hot when I see hot. You know who's hot? Michael Fassbender is hot. Ryan Gosling is hot.'

She paused and looked at Cerberus' calm eyes.

'Oh please. It has nothing to do with both of them being blonde. What do you take me for?'

Cerberus made no sound to agree or disagree.

'I'm an acquired taste, mister,' she waved a finger before his eyes. 'That's right,' she nodded, as if to emphasize. 'An acquired taste. I'm potent and bitter and I come on too strong, knocking out the manliest of men,' she explained wisely. 'However, if you can survive me, you won't be able to get me out of your system, because every other woman after me will seem meek and feeble.'

Paris looked down at Cerberus to find him asleep next to her arm, snoring lightly.

'Oh whatever.'

'Mom?' a young boyish voice sounded behind her.

Josh approached her and Cerberus, sitting down on the highest step of the porch.

'You okay?' he asked.

'Sure. Why wouldn't I be?' Paris asked a little too enthusiastically.

Josh had eyes that strongly resembled hers and she realized just how piercing her look must seem to others when she focused those eyes on people with no-nonsense scrutiny. Josh had the same look in his eyes now.

'Rory and Jess seem happy,' Josh said, changing topic without breaking his gaze from his mother's.

Paris smiled a probably wobbly smile.

'They are.'

Josh nodded thoughtfully. He was only six years old and he already looked so grown up.

'Uncle Jess seems determined to stay.'

Paris' breath caught for a second before she gave her son a slow nod. Not every marriage was bound to fall apart. Josh had gotten that right.

'Tristan's speech was good,' Josh said then, surprising her again by changing topic. 'He made me laugh, your speech wasn't gonna make me laugh.' Josh continued, making Paris' eyebrows rise.

'You were so nervous about that speech, I'm glad he covered for you.'

Paris opened her mouth to explain that the case wasn't exactly this and she had given Tristan the speech because he was so very eager to be the one to deliver it... or wasn't he? Paris narrowed her eyes, remembering how nervous she was about that speech, how she of all people had a terrible stage-fright and the relief once it was decided the speech was gonna be Tristan's concern. Could it be possible that he had faked best man speech delivery enthusiasm in order to make it less stressful for her? This was ridiculous. But it was Tristan Dugray and ridiculous was always up his sleeve when he was concerned.

Paris blinked and looked at her son who was carefully studying her.

'You're a smart guy, you know that?' she smiled, smoothing his hair with her palm.

'I love you, mom,' Josh said. He said it so simply, so honestly, it made Paris still for a moment, overwhelmed by surprise. It wasn't that she thought her son didn't love her, but it was something like a family trait - he didn't particularly voice his feelings of love and attachment.

Josh stood up and bent to leave a kiss on his mother's cheek, offering her a hand.

'I came to ask you to dance with me,' he stated and somehow Paris' heart melted and recollected again. At this moment she realized she felt a bout of happiness she had been afraid was gonna be forever denied to her. It wasn't. It was right there, waiting for her to take his hand.

She smiled.

'I would love to.'

And took her son't hand, following him inside.

END OF SEASON 3

TBC