Title: I Read The News Today, Oh Boy
Author: Carrie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lorelai has called off her engagement to Max. Rory and Dean have broken up. Fumigators come to the house so they spend the day at the country club.
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls and its characters belong to Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television.

Chapter Three

RORY'S HOUSE

The morning sun peeked through the drapes and across Tristan's face, enough to make him stir. He snuggled deeper into the pillow that he embraced in order to block out the bothersome rays. In his semi-conscious state he vaguely thought about just how comfortable he was. And what a good night's sleep he had had. And HOLY SHIT, where he was sleeping. His eyes flew open and he looked around the room in an attempt to orient himself.

The foreign environment was confirmation enough. He was in Rory's room, lying in Rory's bed. Good Lord, life was strange.

The clock read 7:34. Lying still, he strained to hear if there was any movement in the house, but he heard none. However, he did smell coffee. He figured someone must be up. He carefully slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his crutches. When he emerged from the bedroom he saw Lorelai dressed up and leaning against the counter, sipping her coffee with two hands.

"Good morning," she greeted him with a warm smile.

"Morning," he replied in a gruff morning voice.

"How did you sleep?"

"Very comfortably, thank you."

"Good. Here, have a seat." She pulled out a chair for him. "What can I get you? Coffee? Juice? Water?"

"Juice sounds good."

"One juice coming right up."

She went into the fridge and pulled out a juice box.

"Here we are, a box of sugar water with orange flavoring," she looked at it with a chuckle. "Would you like to insert the straw or shall I?"

"I can probably manage."

She handed him the juice.

"I'm sorry. I feel like Mother Hubbard. We don't get many houseguests."

"That's all right. I wasn't expecting to be a houseguest. I feel like I'm imposing."

"You're not imposing so don't worry about it. We didn't wake you up, did we?"

"No."

"On a normal Saturday we are NOT up this early, but I have to go into work this morning because we had a tour bus pull in late last night with absolutely no warning, even though they said they did give us warning, and apparently they are expecting some sort of tour. Go figure. So, I've got to come up with some form of quaint entertainment for the blue hair express. Which is ironic really. Ironic that I run an inn and yet all I have to offer a houseguest is a small box of liquid containing juice-like properties."

"It's okay, really."

"I'm better at telling people what to do. Speaking of which, Rory went to Luke's to pick up some breakfast. She should be back any minute."

Lorelai poured herself another cup of coffee.

"So how's the foot?"

"It's sore."

"Oh here. Rory left your medicine on the counter."

She handed him his prescription just as Rory came in the front door carrying a bag.

"Ah, speak of the daughter."

"Luke made pancakes," said Rory, setting the bag on the table.

"Oh man, pancakes. I wish I could stay," said Lorelai.

"You can't sit and eat with us?"

"I'm already late. I'll get Sookie to make me some pancakes."

While the mother-daughter discussion continued, Tristan retrieved a pill and struggled with trying to get the straw into his juice box.

"Sookie pancakes are not Luke pancakes."

"I realize this but I have really got to go so it's going to be a Sookie pancake day."

Rory noticed Tristan's struggle and, without giving it a second thought, grabbed the juice box, jammed the straw into the foil hole and handed it back to him. Lorelai noticed the dejected look on Tristan's face while Rory busied herself with plates and silverware.

"Where'd you put the keys?" asked Lorelai.

"I left them in the jeep," replied Rory, opening up a styrofoam container of pancakes. "Are you sure you don't want one for the road?"

"I'm positive. Besides, it's polite to see to your guests first."

Rory stared at Lorelai for a second almost as if she didn't understand what her mother was saying.

"He just woke up, Rory. Notice the context clues. The pajama-like clothing. The messed up hair."

Rory glanced at Tristan and then turned back to her mother.

"His hair always looks like that."

"Rory..." but before she could finish her thought, she looked at her watch. "I'm late." She took a last swig of coffee and then grabbed her purse. "Be good and I'll see you guys later."

She gave Rory a kiss on the side of the head and then rushed out the door. Rory stood there for a second as a silence filled the house. She glanced at the table where Tristan sat unmoving. Sighing, she walked to the table and began putting pancakes on plates for each of them. After putting one of the plates in front of Tristan, she realized she had forgotten the syrup. When she came back to the table with the syrup, Tristan remained strangely immobile.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked.

He didn't look at her.

"Are you going to cut my pancakes up for me too?" he mumbled.

He wasn't sure she had heard him right.

"What?"

"Nothing," he mumbled even lower.

Confused, Rory watched him as he poured syrup over his pancakes. She decided to just disregard his comment and sat down on the other side of the table to eat her own food. They barely looked at each other and ate in virtual silence, the only sounds were of their silverware periodically clinking against their plates.

Having not eaten in almost a day, Tristan made the stack of pancakes disappear rather quickly. But when they were gone, there didn't seem to be anything else to keep him occupied. He watched Rory pick at her plate.

"So, what do you know about football?" he asked finally.

Rory looked up and sighed.

"It's a bunch of guys wearing the same outfit against a bunch of other guys wearing the same outfit running around a large field with a strange-shaped ball."

He regarded her explanation with mild amusement.

"Paris is going to love your article."

"That's why you're here."

"Fine. Do you have something I can write on?"

"Yeah, just a sec."

Rory went to her room and brought back one of her notebooks and a pencil. He set it on the table and opened it to a clean page.

"Okay, let's start with the basics. Each team is allowed eleven players on the field at a time..."

"What if there's more?" she asked.

"It's a penalty," he replied while drawing a series of X's and O's on the sheet of paper.

"What kind of penalty?"

"I'll get to that in a minute. So, here we've got a defense and an offense..."

"Is there a reason why the offense is designated by an X?"

He stopped writing and stared at her.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Are you going to interrupt me every time I open my mouth?"

"Probably."

"How wonderful."

He turned back to his drawing.

"If I'm going to be a journalist, I need to ask questions."

"That may be, but if you want me to impart my knowledge of football to you, you're going to have to practice a little restraint. Like say....maybe only interrupt after every tenth sentence."

Rory stared at him mutely.

"Good," he continued. "Now, here is the offense..."

The conversation continued in the fashion for the next couple hours, Tristan drawing and explaining while Rory bombarded him with questions. Rory began taking notes as well.

When they exhausted all of Rory's questions and everything that Tristan could think of to explain, they moved into the living room to watch the Chilton game that Rory had recorded. Tristan sat on the floor with his back against the couch and the remote control in his hand so he could fast-forward or rewind while he described what was going on. Rory curled her legs beneath her on the couch and set her notebook on the arm.

She noticed the tension in his profile as he watched the beginning of the game and realized for the first time that it might be difficult for him to watch. She began another barrage of questions and he seemed to relax a little. The first half of the game was when Chilton scored most of its points and Tristan gave almost a play-by-play of what was going on. However, the second half of the game was rather monotonous as Chilton's second-stringers had a tougher go of it. Rory was catching on and Tristan only spoke up when something new or unusual happened. Otherwise, they both sat quietly and watched.

Rory was bored out of her mind from the beginning since (1) she didn't really care for football and (2) she had already seen the game once. She set her notebook aside and stretched out along the couch to be more comfortable.

The game continued into its final quarter and Tristan sat quietly engrossed. But oddly enough he was thinking less about himself not being a part of it and thinking more about Rory's article.

"You should interview coach, of course, and get a few quotes from Trent," said Tristan. "Brandon too. He's always entertaining."

When he didn't get a response, he turned his head to find Rory curled up asleep.

It took him by surprise. Not by the fact that she was asleep. But by the feelings that immediately overtook him as he stared at her peaceful face.

It was almost like he had forgotten. Forgotten how beautiful she was. How much she turned him inside out. How much he wanted to hold her. Just to touch her. To kiss her soft lips.

And then, like a bolt of lightning, he realized he had already done that. Not once but twice. And with the same result. He would never mean anything to her. His expression hardened and he turned back to the game. But it only made him feel worse, seeing something else that he couldn't have. He stopped the VCR and turned off the TV.

"Rory," he said, reaching for his crutches.

She didn't stir.

"Rory!"

She bolted awake and sat up flustered.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I need you to take me home."

"What?"

"I want to go home."

"But..."

"The game's over. I think you've got enough to write your article."

"Okay, could you just hang on a minute?"

He was on his crutches and went to retrieve his school clothes.

Rory remained on the couch trying to gather her wits about her. She rubbed her eyes and then, with a sigh, finally got up to follow him.

"Do we have to leave right this minute?" she asked.

He reappeared with his clothes thrown over his shoulder.

"I've got things to do."

"I thought I was going to help you with your schoolwork?"

"Rory, I haven't been home in over twenty-four hours," he continued, agitated. "Could you just take me please?"

"But how am I supposed to get back? Can't you just wait until my mom gets home so that she could follow us?"

"I want to go now."

He made his way to the front door.

"But..."

"Keep the damn car, Rory!"

She was stunned by his outburst. He reached for the door, but Rory grabbed it before him. They stared at each other defiantly for a moment and then she opened it for him. He moved past her.

"I'll wait for you in the car."

She was so annoyed with him.

"I'll be there in a minute," she replied.

After locking up the house, she met him in silence and took off heading for Hartford. Both stewing in irritation made for a long car ride.

As they got closer, Tristan gave direction when necessary.

"When my mom gets home, we'll come back to drop the car off."

"You don't need to do that."

"What's the difference between us dropping it off or having one of your hired hands having to deal with it?"

"They get paid to do it."

"I owe you anyway, since you helped me out."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not 'worried' about it."

"Rory..."

"I said I would help you..."

"Look," he said in exasperation. "If you really want to help then why don't you keep the car and then just pick me up on your way to school Monday. That way, no one has to deal with picking it up or dropping it off, you don't have to ride the bus, and I don't have to get a 'hired hand' to drop me off at Chilton."

They sat quietly for a minute. No matter how much she wanted to, Rory couldn't argue with his logic.

"Fine," she said. "I'll just use the car to pick you up Monday though. I won't drive it anywhere else."

"Drive it. Don't drive it. I don't care," he stated. "Turn right at the gate."

They pulled through the security gate and up to the large mansion that was the DuGrey estate. Rory followed the loop around to the front entrance where someone immediately came out to help Tristan get out of the car.

"I'll give you Luke's clothes back on Monday."

"I'm not going to drive it."

"Whatever."

The door was shut and Tristan disappeared into the house. Rory sighed. She seemed to do that a lot around him. She put the car in gear and headed home.

TRISTAN'S HOUSE

Rory was in no better mood when she pulled up to his house Monday morning. The house looked void of activity. For a second, she pondered laying on the horn to get someone's attention. She decided that that wouldn't be polite and was about to get out of the car when the door opened and Tristan was escorted out by a guy who carried his bag. He put the bag in the back seat before Tristan got in.

"Have a good day at school," said the guy to Tristan.

"Thanks, Emmet," said Tristan.

Tristan got into the car and didn't look any happier than Rory.

"Hi," she greeted blandly.

"Hi," he equaled in blandness.

She headed down the driveway.

"You forgot your medication at my house."

"I know."

"I called."

"I know."

"So what did you do?"

"I suffered."

"That was dumb."

"Ironically, I know that too," said Tristan. "So, I called my doctor and got another prescription filled."

"Did he prescribe something for stubbornness too?"

"Yes, but I refused."

"Such a comedian."

When they pulled into Chilton and parked, Tristan got out and tried to get his bag out of the back seat. Rory came over to his side of the car.

"You think it's going to be easier to carry today?"

He took a step back.

"Hey, if you want to carry it, that's fine by me. I know you want to prove that you're superwoman or something."

"I'm not trying to prove anything. This is just like the car thing. You could probably pull it off somehow but I'm here and I can help. It just makes sense."

"It's heavy."

"I'll put some of it in my backpack."

She redistributed his books and folders between her backpack and his bag and then shut the door.

"There."

She put her now bulky backpack on her back and then picked up his bag. She felt a sense of satisfaction that she was going to pull off carrying it all. She met his appraising look.

"You look like a mule," he said.

Her shoulders sagged and she glared at him. Turning, she marched towards school leaving Tristan to catch up.

They went to his locker first. They had American Lit together first period so they decided to drop off his stuff and then go to Rory's locker because it was closer to the classroom.

Rory emptied his things into his locker for him as he looked on helplessly. She then grabbed the appropriate materials and shut his locker. Again, he had to catch up to her as she headed toward her own locker.

On his way down the hall, he ran into some of the football team.

"DuGrey!"

Already at her locker, Rory turned to watch their conversation.

"Hey, Tristan. Man, where were you? We didn't see you at the game."

"Yeah, we kicked ass!"

"I was kind of out of it," explained Tristan. "I saw a tape of the game though. You guys looked great."

"No shit, this is our year."

"We rock!"

"Did you see Razor's touchdown? That was sweet!"

"You can not miss another game, T. You can be on the field with the rest of us."

Rory noticed Tristan's expression change with the comment.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. "Hey, I've got to get to class. Makeup work, you know."

"All right, man. We'll catch you later."

"Later, T."

"Yeah, see you guys," Tristan said and watched them leave. When he turned back, he saw Rory staring at him. He ambled past her and went to their classroom. Rory shut her locker and followed.

CAFETERIA

Though not really intending to, Rory continued to help Tristan get from one class to another since they either had the same class or classes near each other. By the time lunch rolled around, neither thought anything of Rory getting lunches for both of them.

Tristan automatically headed for the table with the football team. Rory hesitantly followed.

"Dugrey, have a seat."

Tristan sat down and Rory walked over and set his food in front of him.

"Hey, who's this?"

"I'm Rory Gilmore," she said a bit indignantly.

"What are you doing hanging around this clown?"

"I want to join the circus."

He chuckled briefly.

"You know, you can sit down. We don't bite...hard."

Tristan looked up at her almost apologetically and she sat down.

"Rory Gilmore. Didn't I hear you were writing about the football team for The Franklin?"

"Yes, I am."

"Do you need any help with that?"

"I..."

"She doesn't need any help from you," Tristan interrupted.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly."

One of them picked up a book off of her tray.

"What's this?"

"It's called a book."

"I realize that. Whose class is it for?"

"It's not for a class?" she explained.

"You're reading this for pleasure?"

"Don't you guys read anything for pleasure?" asked Tristan defensively.

"Sure, Maxim. And believe me, it's a pleasure."

Everyone at the table laughed except Tristan and Rory.

"Come on, DuGrey. What's wrong with you? Did you break your sense of humor too?"

Before he could reply, another football player rushed up to their table.

"Hey guys, coach has the tape for St. Benedict's. He's got it keyed up in his office."

"Cool. Let's go."

The table cleared out, leaving Rory and Tristan the only ones remaining. Tristan stared at his food.

"Fun group of guys," noted Rory.

"Yeah," replied Tristan.

He pushed his food around for a bit and then finally began to eat. Realizing that he didn't plan on chatting, she picked up her book and began reading.

HALLWAY

Rory and Tristan didn't have their last class together. She had dropped him off and had to practically go to the other end of school for journalism. By the time class ended and she headed back, she found him coming down the hall, pushing his book and notebook along the floor with his crutch in obvious irritation. She sighed heavily, per usual, and went to pick them up.

"What's wrong with you?" she inquired.

"We have a test tomorrow!"

"Yeah."

"And she's making me take it."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

"And you're not prepared for it?"

"No."

"What did you say to her?"

"She asked me if I 'could' be prepared for tomorrow and I said maybe."

"So, what are you going to do?"

The next sentence that came out of his mouth seemed to be one of the hardest sentences she ever heard him speak.

"Could you help me?" he asked quietly. "Please."

She blinked in shock and it took a second to respond.

"Um, yeah, I guess....uh, where?"

They started moving down the hall towards Tristan's locker.

"We can go over to my house."

"I'll have to call my mom."

"Of course."

"She can probably pick me up..."

"You can just take my car like last time."

"Tristan..."

"Rory, let's not go through this again, okay?"

"Okay, but..."

"You're not going to drive it. I know."

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