Disclaimer: I don’t own Gilmore Girls; I just like to pretend I do, so I write stories and use the characters for my own entertainment.

Rating: PG-13, just to be safe

Time Period: Future Fic. No Spoilers.

A/N: A peace offering. I'm back and with a new penname too. Though my story ideas are a tad unstable right now. So, when al else fails, write fluff. Oh, also I need a beta for the fic I'm entering in the Seasonal Passions Fall Fic Exchange, preferably someone not taking part in it. All my betas are, hence the problem. If you're willing leave me a review or e-mail me.

Normality

She sits curled up on the couch, humming the tune to a song, whose title or artist she can't remember, engaged in her latest Russian novel. She hasn't thought about him in three whole minutes.

And then, the doorbell rings. She sighs, knowing exactly who it's going to be. She contemplates ignoring it, coming to the conclusion that she's had a stroke of brilliance. Turning her thoughts away from the man at the door, Rory Gilmore returns to her book.

Tristan DuGrey, however, was nothing if not stubborn. He knocks again, harder this time. And in return, still receives nothing.

"Rory!" He calls. "Come on! I know you're in there."

Still, nothing.

"You're not even going to let me explain!"

Nothing.

Damn it! He thinks. Running a hand through his hair, Tristan lists his options, coming up empty handed. Desperate, he yells the first thing that comes to his mind.

"I'll break down this god-dam door if you don't open up."

She looks up at this. He's not serious, is he? She wonders. But after a few moments of silence she dismisses the thought. Slightly disappointed at the fact that he gave up so easily she tries to get back to her book.

At her lack of concern he falters, not sure what to do.

"Rory! Please! You don't understand!"

She's really pissed. He realizes when she doesn't even bother to tell him to go away. He exhales loudly slumping up against the back of the door. This was not supposed to happen. He tells himself. You were not supposed to screw this up!

Coming to the conclusion that he has nothing else to loose, he emerges from his previous position, and backs up. The blonde kicks into the door, pushing it in and stepping over it to reveal a shocked Rory.

She gasps, looking up from her book and surveying the sight in front of her. There's Tristan, clad in a disheveled suit and tie, standing next to her apartment door. The thought, He's going to die, runs through her head. But instead of lunging at him Rory remains seated.

Looking at him, she speaks. "You're going to replace that." And then she's reading again.

"Come on. You have to at least give me points for originality.”

"That move has been used in every chick flick ever made, when there is a desperate male character whose girlfriend is especially annoyed.”

"Well, it worked for them." He shrugs, walking towards her. "I figured I'd give it a shot."

"Is there a reason you're here?" She questions not even bothering to look up from her book.

"We...had a date..."

"At seven." She informs him, her voice monotone. "I waited 'til eight-thirty, realized you weren't coming, came home, got changed, and now here I am at ten- twenty-three." She finishes matter-of-factly.

"Rory—"

"Don't even try it!" She tells him. "Don't bother! I've heard it all before."

"No." He laughs bitterly. "Believe me you haven't heard this."

"What'd you come up with a more original excuse on the way here? What, instead of 'the meeting ran late' or 'my flight got delayed' you were planning on telling me you were stuck in traffic or that your secretary was gone? Sorry, I've heard those too."

"God you're sexy when you're annoyed."

"Unbelievable!" Removing herself from her comfortable condition on the couch, she drops her book, stopping before Tristan. "You are unbelievable."

"Why, thank you."

"That was not a compliment Tristan. And you dam, well know that! I'm not playing your stupid games anymore! I can't do it anymore!"

He grabs hold of her hands, both of which had been previously used to wave around in assistance to her rant. "Who's calling this a game?"

"No." She wiggles free. "I can't do this! You can't do this!"

Silence. They stare.

"You were late." She informs him with a sigh.

"I know."

"Again."

"I know."

"Emphasis on the word again, signifying previous occurrences."

Looking downcast he covers his eyes with a hand. "I'm sorry."

"And normally, I would have forgiven you. But tonight was supposed to be special Tristan! It was supposed to special!"

He walks towards the brunette, pulling her to him.

"It still can be."

"No." Shaking her head, she walks away, back towards the couch. "No it can't."

Those words hurt him more than she could possibly know.

"Rory..."

"Look. I get it. Work's important to you. It is to me too. You built that company up all on your own and now, you have one of the biggest law firms, this side of anywhere. But we built us, Tristan. We built us. And you don't seem to care about that!"

"Rory."

"You work late every night, sometimes even weekends! I could deal with that. I do the same thing. But you promised! You promised tonight would be us! Just us! And..." She throws her hands up helplessly. "And you missed it."

He sighs, watching her wordlessly; he runs a hand through his already tasseled hair. Frustrated with himself for screwing up, with her for not believing him, and with the circumstances that one way or another always seem to screw him over, he makes one last attempt to salvage the chance.

"Do you want to know why I was late Rory?"

"I've heard it Tristan."

"No. You think you have. You haven't."

"Well, then, please begin the saga."

"I didn't go into work today, Rory. Instead, I went to Tiffany's."

At this her heart begins to beat faster, louder.

"I searched for hours. And then I realized that wasn't what you wanted. You'd want something simple, elegant, tasteful, and something original."

She inhales deeply, not letting the breath go.

"So, I went to every independent jewelry store in the city. The last of which, on the other side of Manhattan. The train broke down, the taxi got stuck in traffic, so I got out of the cab, walked and then, the guy wouldn't let me in to the restaurant, not that it mattered, you were gone anyway. Now, here I am. And that's why I wasn't there Rory."

She exhales, finally breathing again. Her mouth, which had previously been in the shape of an 'o’, tries desperately to form syllables. Say something! She thinks.

"Oh."

He snorts. "Yeah oh."

His condescending tone does not amuse her and so instead of jumping into his arms, she has a slightly different reaction.

"You are an idiot!" She screeches.

"Right..." He arches an eyebrow. "Because that's the obvious response here."

"Oh, don't give me that! How the hell am I supposed to know you planned on pr—doing that! Huh? And you wait for the day of to get the---the thing!"

"Contrary to what you believe Rory. Not everyone plans every moment of their life. This was a spontaneous move!"

"Oh, well I'm glad our future means so little to you that don't even have to think about it."

He sighs. "You know what? Anything I say is going to be wrong here. So, I'm just going to do this!"

The realization of his words sinks in as he reaches into his pocket.

"No! No you are not going to do this now!"

"Oh yes I am!"

"Tristan DuGrey! I demand that you put that...that box away!"

"Sorry, can't do it." He states with a simple shrug.

"You---you broke my door!" She points wildly, no longer able to speak coherently. Fix my door! You can't just do this after breaking someone's door."

"Watch me!"

Her last desperate attempt failing, she states the simple facts.

"You can't do this; we're fighting!"

"What else is new?" Came his sarcastic comment.

"Don't open that box!"

"Too late!"

"Do not do this!" She practically shrieks.

He smirks, opening the box to reveal a sparkling diamond.

"Marry me?"

He looks at her with that smile that would make her do anything. And so, she nods her head.

"This isn't normal, you know. People don't normally get proposed to like this."

"When were we ever normal?" He asks slipping the ring on her finger.

"We really need to work on our level of normality. If we're going to get married, we should at least be somewhat normal."

"Mary..."

"Hmm?" She asks, looking up at him.

"Shut up."

She's about to come back at him with some sarcastic remark about him being impossible and what not, but before the words even pass from her lips he's kissing her, and she doesn't think its right to interrupt.

So much for being normal.