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Paris woke to the sound of rustling and clanging. Normally, this wouldn’t bother her—Rory was a snack fiend—but a glance at the clock on her nightstand told her it was 4:07am. This was too late for Rory to still by up studying and way too early for her to be up on a Saturday.
She pulled herself from bed as quickly and quietly as she could, and grabbed the baseball bat that sat next to her bedroom door. She didn’t really need it to kick someone’s ass, but if Rory forgot to close the living room window and they ended up with a raccoon in their kitchen ( again ), then the bat was definitely necessary. When she rounded the corner from the hallway to the living room area, she couldn’t see anyone, nor did she see anyone in the kitchen from here.
“I swear to god, if we have another raccoon I’m going to wake Rory up and make her help me catch the damn thing,” Paris muttered quietly to herself as she gripped the bat tighter and went into the kitchen.
There was something alive and sitting on the kitchen floor.
Paris’s sleep-addled brain and aggressive fight or flight instincts had her swinging the bat before she realized it was neither a home invader or an unwanted pest.
Thankfully, Rory managed to roll out of the way before Paris could accidentally clobber her.
“Rory, what the fuck?” Paris said once her brain caught up with her and she was no longer just blindly reacting.
“Me?! I’m the one who was viciously attacked while trying to eat a snack! What the hell are you doing?”
“I thought you were a raccoon.”
Rory looked at her blankly from her spot sprawled on the kitchen tile. Paris just shrugged and sat down as well, waiting for Rory to pull herself back upright. Once she was sitting up again, with her back against the cabinet and her legs crossed, she silently offered Paris a macaron from the only slightly smushed package in her hand.
Paris accepted it just as quietly, not demanding an explanation just yet. Rory would spill it sooner or later, so Paris let the rapid ebbing of adrenaline leaving her body win for now as she sat quietly and waited for Rory to enlighten her about why the hell she was sitting here at 4am eating (admittedly good) cookies.
Paris was on her second cookie, an espresso flavored one this time, when she finally said something.
“Logan keeps sending them,” Rory said quietly, inspecting her cookie intently rather than eating it or looking at Paris. “After it worked the first time, I think he got the idea that he could buy my forgiveness.”
“Yeah, well, fancy cookies don’t exactly erase the many many blondes he had for thanksgiving,” Paris said harshly but still quietly; she was unwilling to shatter their quiet moment completely.
Rory still seemed to sink into herself a bit anyway. “Yeah. Believe me, I know. And most of his gifts go straight into the trash. But sometimes he sends me stuff like this—nothing overly expensive but something I actually like—and I-” Rory’s voice broke on a little sob. “I just miss him.”
Paris wanted to list his every horrible trait in response, but they’d be there forever. “He’s a shithead.”
Rory laughed weakly. “Yeah. He is. But also he was fun and he made me feel like I was the most interesting person in the room and the sex was really good. And now I’m sad and eating cookies at four in the morning and it’s not even like he broke up with me. He actively wants me back, or he says he does but he’s probably working his way through some other string of girls while he pines or whatever. And so I don’t trust him and can’t have him back, but he also won’t let me get over him. I just. I want to be able to wallow and miss him and get over him, but he won’t fucking let me !” By the time she finished, she was breathing hard and crying.
Paris pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “You’ll get that. If I have to stake out our own apartment and beat that blonde bastard when he dares to show up, I will.”
“Thanks, Paris,” Rory said, hugging her back just as tightly.
By the time that Paris got Rory back in bed and the kitchen cleaned up, the sun was starting to come up. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, she got dressed and grabbed her bat. She needed to have a chat with a certain douchebag, and now was the perfect time to do it.