Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls, its contents, characters and situations are the property of WB, Amy and Daniel Palladino, its writers, directors and producers. The fanfic situations used are borrowed from within the series and are not meant to be spoilers. Hope you enjoy the story!

A/N: All new! To all who asked for new Trory goodness, here it is! It's typed at midnight so pardon the erratic writing. However, I am trying something new. Post me with your ideas on how you think this should go or else it will turn into a fluff piece. Read, enjoy and post. BTW, all followers of "Off To the Meat Market We Go", the alternate ending address is posted on my bio page.


Tristin DuGrey wondered how he got there. He stared at the white robe that hung on his shoulders. He began to feel the red crawl all over his body, a blush that seems to never stop.

It happened early in the semester. He procrastinated in taking his Humanities courses and as usual, he slipped into the last slot open to him and his schedule. He should've known why. He had Professor Melrose, notorious for being a pretentious cad thus earning the moniker "Tupperware".

Time after time, Tristin made it his personal crusade to embarrass the man. The last straw broke last Monday when the professor himself threw him out of the class.

"This is the last time you are going to waste the time of this class, Mister DuGrey. I suggest you find another class to fulfill your Humanities requisite to graduate because you are not getting the grade from me," the bulbous man harrumphed.

Tristin's nostrils flared as he walked out of the prestigious Brown halls.

And that was how he ended up in the drab yellow room. 'And you call this an art classroom?' Tristin asked himself.

He looked through the crack of the door left ajar. The room was filling up slowly. One by one, the nine o'clock class was trickling in. Shrugging the imaginary chill in the room, he tried loosening up.

Showtime will be in fifteen minutes.


"Oh my God, Rory. I am a mess," Tanh Vu, Rory's effeminate friend gushed. "I mean, can you see it? My hands are shaking."

"You'll be fine, Tanh," Rory tried to calm the Asian taking long strides next to her to match her speed. I still don't know why you need me to be with you though."

"Because I want you to be with me when I ask the Prof for a letter of recommendation so I can get the grant!" he exclaimed with as much theatrical flare he can surmise.

Rory shot him an incredulous glare. No matter how much she told him that he could get the grant with his talent, her constant reassurance always seemed to put him at ease. "You know you could call me like two hours later, like when I am more rested."

"You don't need any more sleep. You need to be alive to all that's around you," Tanh informed her, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Plus, I know you'd prefer talking to me while I am sketching a handsome specimen in front of me."

"You should consider yourself lucky that I got myself out of bed just to accompany you to your class," Rory grumbled, tugging impatiently on the sleeves of her sweater.

"And I am truly honored," Tanh acknowledged Rory by giving her a big hug despite the knocking the huge canvass he carried along with them on their knees. "Besides, I want you to meet this guy in my class. I am not sure if he's sending the 'vibe'."

Despite Tanh's ability to pick out color schemes and patterns, he is horrible at picking up on signals. He always needed someone with a 'gaydar' to help him discern the heterosexuals from those that aren't.

"You know there's this thing that's called 'talking' that could actually let you know whether or not the guy's into you," Rory pointed out.

"But where's the drama to that?" he asked. "At least, this way, you could scout him out, be a feeler. You could actually study him and see if he is… you know…"

Rory rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. You so owe me."

"On my wedding day?" Tanh hinted.

"Sooner. Like lunch. Or breakfast. Right now, I will settle with anything that resembles chocolate covered coffee beans," Rory hinted.

"That stuff is so bad for you," Tanh scolded. "You need to switch to Chai tea. It's more calming."

"I don't need calming. I need stimulation," Rory groaned.

"Trust me honey, you need another kind of stimulation other than the caffeine kind," Tanh whispered the suggestion in her ear. Rory knew too well what he meant. Both of them giggled like little girls.

"Well now that we've gotten off the conversation," Rory tried to divert their conversation to Tanh's academic goal. "Have you decided where you want to go to get your Masters?"

"I'm hoping to get to Temple," he mused. "Come on. How ironic could it be that I would be getting my Masters in the City of Brotherly Love? And it will be a lot cheaper since I'm from PA."

"Aw, that would suck. I won't get to see you anymore," Rory sadly realized.

"Pshaw, like you'd remember me," he mocked. "You're going to be the new Soledad O'Brien and you'd be saying, "Who? Tanh Vu? I don't know him!" and you'd whisk yourself away to some god-awful country to say you lived the hard journalist life," he rambled on, flipping the imaginary long hair he wished he had.

"You are so melodramatic!" Rory teased him. "I can't forget you in a million years."

"I will hold you to that," Tanh threatened her before they entered his classroom.

All of a sudden, Tanh stopped in front of the large double doors that beckoned them to enter. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In that split second, Tanh was transformed from a very easy-going guy to a determined, focused artiste.

"Watch the master at work," Tanh announced, strutting in the room.

Rory had to suppress a giggle before following the Asian. She should suggest that he should get a minor in performance arts.

Rory looked around the room filled with several students pulling out brushes and pencils quietly mumbling to the person next to them. Some were putting their canvases up on the easels. Others are obvious novices, striking up poseur stances of indifference. There was a different kind of energy flowing in the loft-like space.

"Rory, that's him , that's him!" Tanh whispered excitedly.

Rory swiveled her head to the right. In front of her was a handsome, lithe brunette that looks like he stepped out of a GAP ad. He wore rimless glasses, a white T-shirt with an open blue pinstriped shirt layering it and a pair of Diesel jeans that hung low on his hips. The man looked at them and flashed a smile.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted, nodding towards their general direction.

"'Sup!" Tanh mimicked his action, talking in a voice Rory had never heard. "You think this new model's gonna last this time?"

"Wishing," the other guy smirked. "Or else, we will have nothing for our exhibit."

"Ya know?" Tanh responded. "That's why women models are better. They're less pretentious."

The brunette just laughed.

Again, Tanh resumed his real personality and spoke excitedly to Rory. "Oh my God, Rory. He spoke to me. Me! What do you think?"

Rory needed more than small talk to verify his ambiguity. "I think he's nice. He could talk."

Tanh shot her a withering glance.

"Just ask him out for a drink. I'll play chaperone," Rory suggested.

"Are you sure? You're not pulling my leg," Tanh asked, serious about the plan.

"Yes," Rory sighed.

A hush fell in the room almost simultaneously with Rory mouthing her response. Their professor took languid strides towards the pedestal in the middle of the room. A few moved their easels to get a better view of the well coiffed bohemian dressed lady that commanded presence.

'Well, well! I have a full class today. I guess everyone has heard that we finally got our new male model," the professor spoke jovially.

A round of chuckles filled the room.

"Let's hope this time he won't have any performance anxieties," she added on. More chortles erupted.

"Without further ado, let's get working!" she announced.

Left of center, a blonde Rory felt like she's known before emerged. He sauntered on to the pedestal with an air of arrogance.

"I know him," Rory let out a stage whisper.

"Oh my God, I am in lust!" Tanh murmured next to her. Both of them took in the sight of the Adonis that seemed to not care that sixteen pairs of eyes focused on him like fresh meat.

The blonde sniffed and unceremoniously disrobed. The room let out a collective gasp when he posed in his full glory.

The chiseled arm hung loosely on the left, the right akimbo on his hip. His chest puffed out as he took a straddled pose under the sterile light. Rory's gaze traveled down the well-sculpted abdominals, noticing a small scar marring the perfect skin. On down her eyes traveled to the taut buttocks and the well trimmed pubic hair…

"I am staring at a naked Tristin DuGrey," the realization hit her without him knowing.