She closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she sighed. She felt exhausted.
She never in a million years would have thought that teaching was such a tiring job.
The kids that she tutored at the library turned out to be a handful, and frankly, it was just hard for her to face the fact that not every child was as taken by Salinger as she used to be.
She kicked her shoes off, not bothering to straighten them as they landed against the wall by the door. She took her coat off too, gathering all of her strength to hang it on the hanger and not just toss it the same way as the shoes.
"Tris?" she called out "you home?"
She walked inside the living room, seeing the light coming from the bedroom and she was relieved to know he was home. He'd been pulling late nights at the office and she had been worried about him.
"Yep" came his answer from the bedroom and the tone of his voice made her stop dead in her track.
She knew that voice. It was full of mischief, amusement, and somehow, it made her feel very uncomfortable.
"What are you doing?" she asked, not able to hide her uneasiness.
She took another step but stopped once again, shocked, as he stepped out of the bedroom.
"Oh my god" she mumbled, staring at him.
He stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of green army cargo pants and a matching shirt, with a dog tag hanging in his neck. He rested his hands on his hips, standing calmly as he faced her, his face wearing a permanent smirk.
"Ma'am" he nodded, fully devoted to playing the part and she burst out laughing.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, incredulous.
"Thought I'd give you your Christmas present early" he shrugged lightly.
She let out another set of giggles.
"You are crazy" she managed to say, still cracking up.
"Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for" he said with mock hurt, but she could tell he was about to crack up as well, because an amused smile appeared in the corner of his mouth.
He took a couple of steps towards her, pulling her into his embrace.
"You are so bad..." she sighed "I knew I would regret telling you about this..."
He smiled.
"I'm pretty sure you won't" he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her gently.
She melted into his hold, closing her eyes as she let the feel of his lips cloud her senses.
He broke away slowly, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her as he brushed the stray locks of hair away from her face.
"How was class today?" he asked, his voice gentle, affectionate.
She sighed, being reminded of the mutual torture that she and her students put each other through that afternoon.
She frowned, not having the strength to express her disdain any other way.
"That bad?" he asked, smiling lightly.
"How can they not enjoy that book? I don't get it" she sighed.
He shrugged, seemingly not sharing her amazement with the fact that a couple of teenagers might just not be excited about required reading.
"You're as bad as they are" she scolded him.
"But way hotter" he replied and she sighed again.
"Right" she played along and he laughed, leaning in to kiss her again.
She moaned into his mouth and his hands landed on her hips, suddenly pulling her closer.
"Hmmm, Sargent, you are making me swoon" she sighed dramatically as she broke off the kiss.
"Lieutenant" he corrected her with an arched eyebrow.
She chuckled, but suddenly gasped as he swept her off her feet, flinging her over his shoulder as she grasped at the shirt on his back to steady herself.
"Tristan!" she cried out in protest.
"Don't resist, Ma'am" came his reply and she burst out laughing again as he carried her into the bedroom.
She laughed, her whole body delirious as he dumped her on the bed and climbed on top of her.
"Okay now" he murmured, his voice dropping to that throaty whisper that seemed to cloud her brain every time she heard it "what am I supposed to do here?" he said with mock concentration "Do I need to give orders?"
She laughed again, amused at his performance.
He settled himself on top of her, his arms cradling her face and she closed her eyes in content. She loved the weight of him on her body, she loved his sense of humor, his ability to make light of every situation. And she definitely loved the fact that he could make her forget about crappy days and the exhaustion in every part of her body.
She sighed contently, opening her eyes to see him smile at her.
"Speaking of Christmas..." she said, her hand going up to his hair, to brush through it.
"No, no, no" he murmured, kissing her neck "nobody has been speaking of Christmas" he tried to avert the topic.
"...mom's been bugging me about it" she finished her sentence.
He let out a long exhausted breath.
"Didn't we get a pass on Christmas? In exchange for that whole Thanksgiving weekend?" he moaned.
"Well, that was the plan, but you just had to go and make us friends again" she retorted.
He cursed with mock enthusiasm.
"I knew I should have let you to go on hating each other" he murmured and she laughed again, her body shaking lightly under his.
There was a moment of silence, and she felt him relax on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck.
"Tris" she nudged him gently "we could drive down just for the day" she offered, her voice quiet, contemplative.
He groaned into her neck.
"It's never just a day in Connecticut, Rory, you know that" he pointed out and the light bantering tone seemed to have vanished from the room.
"Well, we just won't tell anyone else we're going" she countered.
"Yeah? Your mom is that good at keeping secrets?" he looked up, arching an eyebrow.
"She can be if it's for her own good" she replied, convinced.
"Rory" he groaned, climbing off of her.
Her body missed his warmth instantly, and her chest once again felt tight, the length of the day once again apparent in all her senses.
She sat up, watching him walk around the room, picking up pieces of clothes from the floor in frustration.
"Fine, if you don't want to go, I'll just drive there, early in the morning, be back the next day and you can stay and gloom and have a chat with ghosts of Christmases passed" she shrugged, bargaining with him.
He looked at her, eyes suddenly icy blue, his face void of the lighthearted humor it reflected up till this point and she suddenly thought that maybe she'd said something that hurt him.
"Fine" he said quietly, turning around to walk out of the bedroom.
"Tris" she called after him getting up from the bed, not liking the way the exchange ended.
She walked out into the living room, hearing him open the fridge in the kitchen.
She walked after him, catching up.
"Hey" she called out, her voice careful, probing "what's wrong?"
"Nothing" he replied, shutting the fridge after having retrieved a bottle of water.
"Tristan, you've been working a lot, I don't expect you to come home with me, that's why I thought we could go for a day, but if you don't want to, then I'll just go alone, I don't want to bother you with this" she ranted, trying to explain herself.
"Fine" he repeated, his voice more stressful.
"What's wrong?" she asked, exhausted.
He opened his mouth, to answer her, his face frustrated, but she broke him off.
"If you're gonna say 'nothing' again, I am going to smack you" she said, pointing a finger at him.
He sighed, his mouth closing again. His face looked tired at that moment and she wondered if he'd have as rough a day as she did, but managed to hide it up until now.
"Rory" he pleaded, his voice slightly annoyed.
"Tristan" she retorted, matching his tone.
"What do you want me to say? My choices are going to freaking Clownville, Connecticut or spending my Christmas alone here, should I be excited?" he burst out and she looked at him startled. His declaration was violent and she finally realized it was because he felt hurt.
"I.." she stuttered "I thought you didn't like Christmas" she shrugged.
"I don't like the hoopla, yes, I don't like the family obligations and I definitely don't like Kirk involved in anything with ribbons, but..." he sighed again, his steam weaning "but I like you, fuck it" he finished, frustrated, his eyes suddenly averted.
She chuckled, a smile spreading on her face as she realized he was, in his childish, slightly moronic way, trying to let her know that he did want to be with her.
"Oookay" she said, amused by his frustration.
He turned around, apparently ashamed of the revelation or the way he managed to voice it.
She moved closer to him, quietly, her arms going around his torso and he sighed again, relaxing as her arms snaked around him.
"Hey" she whispered into his back "I like you too... fuck it" she finished, trying to not laugh.
He chuckled, turning around to face her, his back resting against the counter.
"We could stay here" she shrugged, looking up at him smiling reassuringly.
She watched as he closed his eyes, shaking his head.
"No" he said sighing "Let's go to Star's fucking Hollow".
She smiled up at him, searching his reluctant face.
"You sure?" she asked, her face already in a hopeful smile.
"Yeah" he smiled pulling her closer "as long as I still get that mistletoe deal" he smirked.
"You bet" she winked at him, happy that he agreed.
"I'm going to fucking regret it, aren't I?" he murmured.
"You know, you might have to cut back on the cursing if we're gonna do the whole novelty" she teased him, leaning against his chest.
"Okay, let me try" he said, trailing off as he looked at the ceiling in mock concentration, his arms coming to rest on the small of her back "Happy... Fucking Christmas. Nope, not quite there yet" he played.
She raised an eyebrow scoffing as he leaned in again, kissing her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Hey" he heard a voice and he turned around, seeing Lorelai on the porch with two steaming cups.
"Thought you might like some eggnog" she said, coming closer to him, sitting down on the bench under the window.
"You don't do eggnog" he said, his voice suspicious.
She shrugged.
"Yeah, well, it's not so much eggnog as coffee" she said, sitting down next to him, placing the cup in his hands.
He smirked, once again turning to watch the front lawn.
He'd been sitting there for half an hour now, taking solace in the quiet of the night, with the numerous lit up houses around him twinkling peacefully in the cold night. That's probably the only thing he truly loved about Christmas, that peaceful calm that seemed to settle over the streets on Christmas Eve after the weeks and weeks of hectic, pretentious season's chaos.
This night, with all the lights and decorations and the wonderful quiet is what made the whole month bearable for him and he found himself reveling in the moment, taking in the white snow and the unmistakable smell of the holiday.
"I never thanked you" he heard her speak and he turned back to look at her, suddenly pulled back from his thoughts.
"For what?" he asked, confused.
He studied her face for the traces of the ever present mockery or mischief, but she seemed nervous and because of that, more truthful than he ever remembered her to be.
She sighed, turning to look out over the front lawn, taking a deep breath as if preparing for some difficult task.
"For everything, I guess... for being there for her, for not keeping her away from me..." she ranted.
"I'd never do that" he broke her off, turning away from her.
It baffled him, to this day, how she could say something like that. As if even her peace treaties would include a little sting, directed at him.
"I know" she corrected herself, her voice nervous again "I know... Look, Tristan, what I am trying to say, obviously not effectively, because you've got that whole hurt, despite being an honorable gentleman look going..." she started her typical rant, turning to him and he sighed, smirking as she went on "is that I am so glad, that she has you" she finished and the weight of her declaration hung in the air, momentarily making it hard for him to do anything.
He glanced at her, as if to check for the dishonesty, but there was no trace of that on her face, which seemed fragile and undecided.
"You were right" she went on, her voice becoming smaller, defeated "You are the best thing that ever happened to her" she said and he cringed, reminded of the cheesy line he managed to utter right here a couple of months ago.
"...even if you should be fined for saying that sentence" she chuckled nervously.
"I know, I am surprised the ego police didn't do a raid when I did" he played along, admitting his fault.
"Oh, they were busy with Alec Baldwin that day I guess" she said, not missing a beat and he laughed, reminded that her resemblances to Rory made her bearable for him.
He sipped his coffee, a comfortable silence settling over them as they resumed the study of the holiday landscape.
"She said she is writing a book" he heard her speak again and he looked at her again, studying her face.
It was once again nervous and he suddenly felt sorry for her, a mother who thought had lost that close connection to her own child that she had for so long.
He never really understood that connection, not having experienced anything like that in his own life, but he knew how important it was for both of them, even if in the course of the last couple of years it seemed to crumble a bit as Rory felt increasingly alienated from her own dreams and aspirations.
What he saw now, a mother, silently, wordlessly admitting that she no longer had the strongest hold on her own daughter, no longer had the most important role in her life, was devastating in a sense and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, for not having understood her motives before.
He always hated her manipulating, her emotional intimidation, but he had to admit that it stemmed from her love and her fear of loss.
"Yeah" he said clearing his throat "she's been working on it a lot actually" he said.
"Wow" she mouthed "She is writing... a book" she repeated, in quiet wonder.
He looked at her again, happy to see the pride shining in her eyes.
"She is incredible you know" he said and she turned to him suddenly, her eyes flashing with what he thought might be hurt and he wondered for a second if she was hurt by the fact that he was the one to know that. In a second though it was gone, and what he saw instead was a woman, thankful for any information he would give.
"She sits there for hours, pounding away on her laptop" he went on, a smile unconsciously seeping onto his face "she gets so immersed, so... involved... it's just" he sighed relieved "good to watch".
He saw her smile with pride again.
"She's gonna be fine, Lorelai" he said, turning to face her "I really think so".
A thankful chuckle broke from her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, as if willing the tears not to form and he sighed, for the first time in his life, feeling a real connection with the mother of the girl he adored.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Where have you been?" she said, with the best accusing tone she could muster as she managed to strike a pose of the bitter partner on the porch.
He looked up, distracted by her voice, his eyes sparkling with recognition as his gaze met hers.
She couldn't help smiling herself, seeing his joy, seemingly abandoning the plan to scold him.
"I...took a walk" he gestured vaguely, his smile still present on his face as he stopped on his way to the porch, looking at her instead.
"You hate the family holiday that much?" she asked, laughing.
"No" he shook his head "it's just that, I love..." he trailed of turning around, to gesture at the sleeping houses in the distance "this" he finished and she stared at him frowning.
"Star's Hollow?" she asked incredulous.
"No" he chuckled, turning back to her.
"This night. How all the streets are deserted, with only the festiveness remaining. It's sort of... magical" he explained.
She arched an eyebrow.
"Too much of the eggnog?" she asked, suspicious.
He chuckled.
"It's actually coffee" he whispered, stepping closer to her.
"She still puts plenty of booze in it" she whispered back, welcoming him in her arms as he finally stepped onto the porch.
"Oh, so that's what it was" he played along, amused.
"Ah-hah" she nodded, keeping a straight face as she settled into his hold.
"Is that why you look so damn good to me right about now?" he whispered smugly as he nuzzled her neck.
She jumped a little, his cold nose visibly sending a chill down her body as it touched her warm skin.
She chuckled, pulling back slightly.
"So much for the magical sanctity of Christmas Eve" she raised an eyebrow.
He chuckled, brushing away stray strands of hair from her face.
"How are the Weirdos?" he asked, his voice a content murmur.
She arched an eyebrow.
"If by 'Weirdos' you mean my family, my flesh and blood" she started, her voice in mock hurt "they passed out on cinnamon cookies and went to bed" she finished chuckling.
"It is pretty late, I guess" he said, suddenly feeling the weight of the day, the week, the year in fact.
He let go of her, taking her hand into his as he walked up to the front door, quietly opening it.
He had to admit, if there ever was a way to shock therapy him out of the frightful memories of laboratory precision Christmas family events and sterile celebrations of his childhood, it would be stepping into the Gilmore-Danes residence at the end of December.
The heavy smell of the pine branches covering every free inch of the house hit him as he stepped into the dark and warm hallway.
A million little lights twinkled inside the living room, a huge and cheerful tree standing at the center, with dozens of colorful boxes of presents. The tree was eclectic to say the least, with ornaments that didn't match or go well together, but somehow still managed to speak volumes of family, tradition and love.
The whole house was nauseatingly saturated with Christmas memorabilia, including the dancing Santa dolls and red nose flashing Rudolphs that Lorelai somehow managed to sneak past Luke. He stood for a second, the sight of the decorated house taking him by force even after having stared at the details all afternoon.
He felt Rory yank on his hand, pulling him with her inside, towards her room.
Her small bedroom had not been spared by Lorelai, the bed covered with a holiday themed quilt, lights framing the headboard and branches of decorated pine scattered on the walls.
He eyed a bouquet of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling directly above Rory's tiny bed.
"What?" he heard her amused voice, hushed to a whisper, a tone they were used to speaking in whenever they were in her old room and the house was already quiet.
"I'm not sure if I feel comfortable with your mother encouraging me to kiss you in your childhood bed while she is upstairs" he said in mock concentration.
She burst out in a quiet set of giggles.
"Yes, and when did that ever stop you?" she asked.
He smirked, knowing it never did, and never would and he felt a sudden rush of calmness realizing that. He stood in the middle of her room, watching her discard the articles of winter gear and he realized he was still standing there in his coat.
"You okay?" she asked him, stepping closer, her hands helping him take his coat off.
He didn't answer, giving her only a smile as he stepped out of his shoes and went to sit on her bed.
There was always a mattress set up next to her bed, whenever they were forced to spend the night there, but it was rarely used. He always opted to instead go and spend the whole of the night in an uncomfortable stiff position as Rory clung to his chest, staring up at the ceiling and imagining her in this room when she was still a Chilton student.
She sat down next to him, pulling him out of his reverie.
"Thank you for coming with me" she whispered "I know you don't like this whole spectacle" she went on, her voice an apologetic whisper.
"I don't mind" he shrugged with a small smile, lying graciously.
He caught her staring at him, her eyes squeezed lightly in a look of concentration and he knew there were questions to come.
He sighed, before opening his mouth to speak.
"Whatcha pondering about, Gilmore?"
She sighed, and he could see her trying to formulate her question.
"Did you always hate Christmas?" she finally said and he sighed, falling back on the bed as she took her position next to him, her head coming to rest on his chest.
"I just never particularly liked it" he brushed it off "it always seemed more of a nuance than an actual holiday. There were company parties, where I would be pranced around, and my parents would leave on Christmas morning for their annual Caribbean cruise" he explained, surprising himself with the way his voice sounded: matter of fact, calm, disinterested.
He was just never into the whole deal, to be perfectly honest. Sure, he would submit a list of things he wanted to his father's secretary in November, and the gifts would arrive, in uniform wrappers by the first week of December to wait patiently under the custom ordered tree for the whole of the month, but how was that different from any other part of the year?
There was no warmness, no reasons to have a nervous expectation of things to come and over the years he came to see Christmas for what it really was in his point of view: unnecessarily rushing, excessive public stress and annoying music.
"They did the cruise when you were small too?" he heard her quiet question, her voiced slightly in shock.
He had to smile at her worry for him. He wanted to hug her close, reassure her that it was alright, that he wasn't forever brutally emotionally mutilated by these experiences, but he realized he probably was in her eyes. From the land of warm and weird family traditions of decorating the tree, baking Christmas cookies and waiting breathlessly for that stack of encyclopedias you really, really wanted, his childhood was an example of complete emotional abandonment.
"I didn't mind, I liked that the house was quiet around then" he said, his voice solemn as he realized that would disappoint her even more.
"What about your grandfather?" came her hopeful inquiry.
He sighed, the pang he felt whenever reminded of the only family member he valued but lost, evidently stinging his chest.
"He wasn't much of a holiday person" he wondered out loud, thinking back on the quiet seriousness of the old man that seemed to influence him in more ways than he came to recognize back then. He wondered if his disinterest in all things joyful was a result of his grandfather's strange view that Christmas itself was created by greedy toy factory owners and greeting card companies.
"You must have a nice memory" she sat up, looking at him with concerned eyes.
"Hmm" he wondered, his gaze fixed onto the ceiling of the room as his hand tangled in her silky hair.
"There was this time, I must have been around 8" he murmured, closing his eyes, trying to grasp the memory "I remember Christmas Eve and having dinner. My father just got back from a business trip from London and I could tell my mom was pleased because she let me open a present early" he said, the words flowing from his mouth.
He saw her watch him, with a calm smile on her face.
"What was in it?" she asked, a childish sparkle in her eyes.
"It was a model of a BE2c plane from the Royal Aircraft Factory" he said, squinting his eyes, trying to recall the lines of the delicate structure of the veteran plane "I was blown away by it" he chuckled.
"Your dad brought it from London?" she asked, her voice warm, giddy almost.
He smiled a bitter smile, remembering the part of the memory that didn't initially cross his mind.
"Yeah, that's what I thought" he murmured "but then I realized he couldn't have" he added.
Rory's face grew confused and sad as she studied his eyes, waiting for his explanation.
"I realized the package had the same wrapper as the rest, that it had been there for weeks, sitting under the tree" he said, shrugging slightly.
"My mother must have ordered it, to make it seem like he brought it. She could have been a bit more suave not wrapping it in the same paper as the rest" he chuckled.
"Maybe she had some paper left and she wrapped it in the same thing, but he did bring it" she offered and he sighed, not convinced.
He got up from the bed unconsciously wanting to end the futile discussion, walking out of the room towards the kitchen, hearing her trail behind him.
"Did you ever ask him about it?" she said, not letting the subject drop.
"No" he replied and he suddenly felt annoyed by the fact that she was so intent on trying to prove that he did have nice memories of this god forsaken holiday.
"Well, then how do you know, maybe he did" she said, but he could tell her on conviction faltered, her face solemn as she watched him get a bottle of water from the fridge. He took a sip out of the bottle facing her as he leaned against the counter.
"Well" she said, her face suddenly determined "you do have nice memories, okay?"
He looked at her part amused and part curious, the adorable way her brows furrowed in concentration making him smile.
"Like remember that first year?" she came closer to him, and he placed the bottle on the counter to be able to wrap his arms around her "I had just moved in a couple of months prior and I had to spend weeks convincing you to agree to get a Christmas tree?"
He chuckled, remembering the quiet shock she first presented when he wasn't particularly eager at having to drag a six foot pine tree up to his penthouse apartment. He resisted for several weeks and in the end she ended up sneaking a tree up on Christmas Eve.
"Oh, the one we ended up decorating with paper clips and toilet paper?" he asked amused.
"Well, I can't be held accountable for the fact that you had no ornaments what so ever. Or anything slightly joyful and cheery for that matter" she pouted.
He remembered that she spent the whole night in frantic search coming up with very little to put on the tree, but it ended up looking surprisingly full nevertheless, his expert skills of making origami swans perfected during years of boring meetings finally paying off.
The finished product looked disheveled at best, but it seemed to put her over the moon and he remembered making love to her right next to that tree, the pine tree leaves littered on the floor stinging his back.
"Or that time that I got you that comic book?" she asked and he remembered the prior year when he received a custom made comic book titled 'Bible Boy', the main character being a hotshot lawyer by day, masked crime fighter by night, with a hot reporter finding out his true identity. He remembered being amazed by her creativity and humor and the fact that she seemed to be so happy seeing him appreciate the gift. Rory was a perfectionist when it came to giving gifts, going to extremes to finding just the right thing that was personal and over the top.
"Or the time that I came to your office dressed as a Christmas tree?" she murmured huskily, kissing him.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of her tongue and the hazy pictures that sprung into his mind of her arriving at his office one day two years ago in a trench coat, before discarding it to reveal a delicate string of tinsel going around her bare body. It took him very little time to rip it off of her, the cleaning lady later complaining for weeks about the pieces of shiny paper covering his office floor.
He smiled at the memory and he pulled her closer, kissing the side of her neck gently as he lifted her to place her onto the kitchen table.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and he found her mouth with his, enjoying the taste of cinnamon in her mouth. He pulled away slightly, his whole body buzzing with an awakening arousal.
"You are right" he murmured "I do have nice memories" he said, before glancing up towards the doorway of the kitchen.
"Like remember the time we got caught doing the dirty by Luke on Christmas Eve?" he asked amused and she stared at him in shock.
"We never got caught by Lu..." she started, trailing off as realization dawned on her.
She twisted in his loosening hold, turning around to see a very taken aback Luke Danes standing in his pajamas.
She pushed Tristan off of herself instantly, blushing as she gestured wildly.
"I... uh... came down to get some water" Luke explained with a pained look.
"We were just..." she mumbled and he couldn't help but laugh at both of their discomfort as she pulled him towards her bedroom.
They all mumbled their good byes and she closed the bedroom door after themselves, her face still in a furious blush.
"Now that is a nice memory" he chuckled.
"What?" she asked, incredulous.
"You resembling a Christmas ornament" he chuckled, tracing her blush across her cheeks.
"Shut up" she mumbled trying to seem annoyed, but a smile was creeping through.
"Let me see if the rest of your body is that festive too" he murmured huskily pulling her down on to the bed with him.
"Tris" she scolded him, whispering "Luke is right here next door" she said, blushing again.
"Are you kidding me? He is probably upstairs by now, scrubbing his brain" he chuckled, ignoring her protest as he pulled her closer.
"Besides" he pointed up "you can't refuse" he smirked as he watched her look up, her clear blue eyes focusing on the mistletoe hanging right above their head.
"Well, aren't you lucky it's Christmas" she chuckled, succumbing to his will as she kissed him, her body melting into his hold as he pulled her even closer.
"I sure am" he murmured his reply against her lips, for once in his life, actually meaning it.