Title:
Sway
Author: Coralfly
Rating: PG
Summary: After two years in military school, Tristan's back in Hartford
for one last summer before college.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. They are the property
of the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino and affiliates.
Chapter Four
He leaned against the trunk of a tree, hands in pocket, watching the scurrying people and nodding at random persons who recognized him as a DuGrey. It was mid-morning, around 10am or so, but considering the fact that today was Saturday, it was far too early to be awake. However, when Rory had called last night to confirm their plans she had informed him that they were to be at the carnival grounds at 6am.
"If we're going to spend the day at the carnival we have to do it right. Starting with watching the people setting up the tents and stalls."
"But 6am!" He had tried to protest.
Rory, however, was adamant. "It's a Gilmore tradition, for at least a good two years when my grandparents first took me."
"Well, I suppose I can't break tradition."
"Nope, you can't. Else you'll suffer a three generation Gilmore curse."
"Oh no! Anything but that."
"So it's agreed? We meet at my grandparents at 5:30am?"
He had caved and after hanging up the phone had promptly set his alarm for 4:50am, to give him time to get ready and drive to Richard and Emily Gilmore's house. The things he did for Rory Gilmore; the things he would do for her.
And though he never actually told her, the waking up early hadn't been so bad. In fact, he had quite enjoyed the Gilmore tradition of watching the carnival being set up. The five of them - Rory, her mother, her grandparents and himself - sat on a nice grassy spot with a good view of the area, drinking coffee and commenting on the ongoings of others. The Gilmores were blunt, contradictory and amusing. They functioned in their own odd way. They functioned like a family.
He wondered what it would be like to have the kind of love and affection the Gilmores so obviously held for one another. What it would take to be part of their family. To be Dean.
"Hey, you look quiet and reflective. Where's the happy smile?" asked Rory, jolting Tristan out from his reverie.
"Here," he smiled, "happy smile. Better?"
"Much."
"Glad you approve," he paused, noting the absence of the older Gilmores, "So, what happened to everyone?"
"Well, mom was last seen kicking and screaming as grandma dragged her and grandpa somewhere that I do not know of."
Tristan chuckled, easily able to envision the scene after spending a good four hours with Lorelai and Emily Gilmore. "So, we're left to our own devices? I'm surprised they trusted me alone with you."
"Well, according to grandma you're a DuGrey."
"Ah ha. I see my family name has preceded me."
"Yes, and well, mom is under some foolish notion that you're a nice boy. She likes you."
"Well, she is female."
"Hmph. I blame it on her lack of coffee."
"She's had four cups today!" Tristan protested.
"My point exactly," Rory nodded, "She's only had four cups. Mom's definitely suffering the effects of too little caffeine. Her judgment cannot be trusted."
"You know, I'm all for a vanilla latte now and then..."
"Vanilla latte? That's not real coffee. Coffee should be drunk straight, black, with nothing else added to it. Anything else is for show. You know what you are? You're a wannabe coffee drinker."
He somehow managed to suppress the chuckle that was desperate to come spilling out, considering the fact that Rory seemed so serious and earnest about their current topic of discussion. "So, I'm a wannabe coffee drinker. Are we actually going to go on some rides now or are we going to stand here all day and discuss coffee?"
"At the moment I'm all for standing here all day."
"You only had two cups today, didn't you? That probably explains why you're Miss. Grumpy."
"I am not grumpy."
"Sure you're not," came his patronizing reply.
"I do not like you," huffed Rory.
"You love me."
"No I don't."
"Yes, you do. Because I'm going to win you the stuffed toy of your choice."
"Really?" Rory's eyes lighted up. "The stuffed toy of my choice?"
"Yup."
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go." She grabbed him by the arm and proceeded to drag him towards the various gaming stalls.
In the end, the stuffed toy of Rory's choice was a huge, pink elephant, which could only be won by climbing a rope ladder and successfully reaching the top without any body parts touching the mattress below. It seemed simple enough. Easy even. Compared to some of the drills at military school this would be a piece of cake. With a confident smirk Tristan paid the attendant the money and started to climb only to find himself flipped over, ass hitting the mattress in a display of gracelessness. Two tries later and he had only managed to get up five rungs, while the little girl on his right was three rungs from the top. With a steely gaze and a look of determination, he paid the attendant for three more attempts only to prove that co-ordination and balance must not be a DuGrey forte. Fifteen attempts later and Tristan had his share of humiliation to last him a lifetime, numerous rope burns and no pink elephant. Meanwhile the little girl was clutching Bubbles, her newly acquired Power Puff doll, and watching Tristan DuGrey's downfall along with a sizable crowd.
"You're doing it wrong," the little girl offered helpfully.
Tristan scowled, "I know what I'm doing."
The little girl had the decency to keep quiet and back away.
"Maybe you should give up?" Rory suggested.
"I know what I'm doing," he insisted. Another three more attempts, and it looked like he now had a large bruise on his left arm. His only consolation was that this time he had been two rungs away from the top.
"You're hurt," Rory commented worriedly, "I think you should forget about the pink elephant. It's not like I really need it. Or want it. We could always find another game. One that involves less chance of injury."
"I'm going to win you that pink elephant even if it kills me. This measly rope ladder will not get the better of Tristan DuGrey."
Seven attempts later, a few more rope burns and bruises, and one pink elephant proved that Tristan was indeed superior to the rope ladder. That or he was simply foolhardy and stubborn. Still the sparkle in Rory's eyes as he presented her with the prize made it all seem worthwhile.
"My hero. My champion." She deliberately gushed while clutching the toy.
"You're overdoing it," he grumbled.
"But still, it was very brave of you to face that big, scary rope ladder fifty times for me."
"It was closer to twenty."
"Actually, it was thirty-one. I counted."
"Do you want me to take away the elephant?" he threatened.
Rory gasped. "You can't. It's a present. You can't give something to someone and then just take it back. That would be wrong. Besides he's mine. I've already named him. Tristan meet Fred. Fred meet Tristan."
Tristan squinted as he carefully scrutinized the elephant. "Are you sure it's a he? Because it looks more like a she to me."
"Fred is definitely male," came her indignant reply.
"Well, if you're sure." Inwardly he laughed as Rory, predictably, began to shoot daggers at him with her eyes. "C'mon, let's go get food. I'm in the mood for some junk."
"Oooh! Will you get hot dogs or a burger or a pizza? And will you eat them with your hands?"
"I'm thinking I will probably get a hot dog. And yes, I'll be eating it with my hands. How else am I meant to eat it?"
"I dunno," Rory shrugged, "I just never really imagined you eating that type of food. Sushi, truffles, caviar, canapés seem more like the type of food you would eat. And if you ever ate a hot dog or something like that, I always envisioned it on a silver platter with knives and forks."
"You what?" Tristan laughed. "Have I ever mentioned that you're odd?"
"I do believe it's been said before. Besides, no doubt, you eat your pasta the Italian way; twirling it with a fork and a spoon. And you probably know how to hold and use chopsticks correctly."
"Yes, but eating a hot dog with a knife and fork?"
"Knowing you it is entirely possible!" Rory defended herself. "Now, let's get food."
They spent the afternoon scoffing down popcorn, hot dogs, cotton candy, and ice cream and washing it all down with an endless supply of soda. They played enough games for Tristan to declare that today was proof that all carnival games were rigged. And the time between they rode on the merry-go-round, explored the haunted house and created havoc on the jumping castle.
"Hey, you look happy," observed Rory as they waited in line for the Ferris wheel.
"Well, maybe because I am."
"Really? And what brought on this sudden bout of happiness?"
"You. Being here with you makes me happy." It was the truth masked by light joviality.
She made a face, accepting his words as an attempt at clever humor. "Ugh. Too cheesy."
A serious, thoughtful expression crossed his face before Tristan flashed his trademark smirk, "Yeah. I probably could have done better."
"Much better."
"So," he attempted to sound casual, "I'm surprised Dean isn't here."
"He was busy," came Rory's curt reply.
"Oh well, he missed out on a good day. Like you making a fool of yourself on the jumping castle. Or you and the evil cotton candy."
"The cotton candy was evil. There was something wrong with its coloring."
"It looked perfectly fine to me."
"Ha! It just goes to show how little you know. Besides, it's not like you can speak, Mr. I Must Defeat The Rope Ladder."
"Hey, I got you Fred!" Tristan exclaimed indignantly.
"After fifty attempts."
"Thirty-one. You told me you counted thirty-one."
"Same difference. Oohh, look the line is moving. Progress is finally being made. This is going to be the best ride of them all. The cherry on top of the ice cream. I can't wait. I love Ferris Wheels."
He smiled, watching Rory bounce up and down in anticipation. "You know I wasn't exactly kidding before. I've had a lot of fun today. With you."
"Me too," she whispered back, her eyes briefly meeting his before she quickly averted them.
An awkward silence fell upon them as they pretended to be absorbed with the progression of the queue rather than each other.
"This is the second time I've been to the annual Hartford carnival," Tristan suddenly confessed, breaking the silence. "The first time was when I was six. It was this great family event; something out of the Brady Bunch; happy families. We entered the carnival, my mom and dad hand in hand. And I, I was sitting on top of my dad's shoulders. He won stuffed toys for my mom and I, and rode on the merry-go-round with me about ten times. That day he wasn't too busy to play father. As for my mom, it was the one time in my life that she didn't care whether or not I dripped ice cream. Whether or not each strand of my hair was perfectly in place, and I could be messy as I liked. I could be a kid. It was the best day of my childhood. The next year I waited eagerly for the carnival. Only that year my dad had to go to Europe and mom felt that there was too much sun to go outside. Similar excuses followed the year after and the year after that. I never did end up going to the carnival again. So this is my second time here."
"Tristan..."
"You know, considering its track record, I'm going to have to say that this carnival is the one annual Hartford event that equates to actual fun."
"Tristan..." Rory began once more.
"Yes?" He turned to face her; blue eyes asking not for pity but for friendship and understanding.
"It's our turn. On the Ferris Wheel."
They boarded the Ferris Wheel in comfortable quiet; her hand holding his. As their seat rose higher and higher up into the air they watched their view of the world change. People grew smaller, less real, and then there was the vastness of blue sky and everything else below. The Ferris Wheel stopped and they were at the top looking down; the world illuminated by the dulling afternoon sun. Her hand was still entwined with his and for Tristan it was indescribable.
"Everything is so beautiful," Rory marveled.
"It is." He turned his head left as she turned her head right, and their eyes locked.
Then her head inched closer before she pressed her mouth against his. Her lips were soft and the kiss was the perfect medium between dry and wet. He sat dumbly unable to process the fact that he was kissing Rory or rather that she was kissing him. A few strands of her hair fell to the front of her face and he found himself somehow brushing them aside. And then his reflexes kicked in and he returned her kiss. Their mouths were joined and they were breathing each other's air, invading personal space with Fred squished in between them. The Ferris Wheel jolted back into action bringing them to their descent but they did not notice the world passing them by. Lips brushing lips, a little tongue, and hands tangled in hair. Soft but noisy smooches. Bliss. And then the end of the ride.
She pulled away, fumbling with the metal bar, avoiding his gaze.
"Rory?"
"I-I have to go." She stumbled out of her seat and ran, clutching Fred too tightly.
"Rory?" he yelled after her and attempted to chase. He was fast and athletic but Rory was determined and she slipped away, disappearing into the crowd of people.
Ten minutes later he bumped into Lorelai Gilmore.
"Tristan, hey. Rory's not feeling well and we've all decided to leave early. We hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all." There wasn't much else he could say.
"It was nice meeting you." Lorelai offered her hand.
He took it and shook her hand firmly. "Same here. I hope Rory is feeling better soon."
"So do I." The look she gave him was knowing, and Tristan wondered if Rory had confessed or if he had betrayed something in the tone of his voice. She let go of his hand, giving him one last meaningful glance before leaving.
Afterwards he walked aimlessly throughout the carnival grounds waiting for evening, when the crowds dispersed and there were only the cleaners picking up the rubbish as everything closed for the day. He sat on the same grassy spot they had sat on 6am that morning. There was something terribly final and empty in watching the tents go down and the stalls close. It seemed fitting.