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It wasn't as though Rory didn't love traveling.
She had, since she was a child. From the moment that her mom could afford her own car, she loved the short road trips and later, the long ones. The few plane rides that she'd been able to get on before college and work allowed her to travel more. The bus wasn't the most preferable but she had some nice memories riding on it and she even enjoyed a train ride now and then. It was a nice peaceful way to catch up on some of her reading. And she didn't even mind driving, humming to the music, as she got from point A to point B.
So when she got a job that put her in a position that would travel more frequently, she was excited. Not only to just have a job (because it felt that was touch and go for a moment there), but one that would give her new experiences as she pursued her dream.
Except it turned out when you're traveling for work, especially during a campaign trail, traveling was just stressful. Even after the election was done and over, she found herself on the road a lot, both through her job and freelance positions that placed her in different parts of the country. While she was grateful to be able to continue to stick with a field that people loved to say was dying (and seriously, if she had to answer whether or not she was "concerned" about the future of her industry, she was going to do something drastic), she was also tired.
Tired of sleeping in one awful motel after another.
Tired of not having a regular bed and a home to call her own.
Tired of seeing her mom once in a blue moon, and making next to no connections that weren't work related just because she couldn't stay in one place long enough or had the time or energy to keep up with anyone or make new friends (why didn't someone warn her how hard it was to make new friends as an adult?).
She was grateful for Lane, who had always been too understanding and remained supportive, and Paris, someone who had her own weird sleep schedule (always but especially now), thanks to med school life, being able to keep her connected and even grounded at times.
Yet when the Boston Globe offered her a position as a staff reporter, after one of her articles drew the eye of an editor over there, she didn't waste much time saying yes.
Her mom was happy that she was back on their side of the country, promising to visit as often as she could once she was settled.
Speaking of settled, finding a place was a whole new challenge.
"Is there a housing crisis over in Boston?" she complained one night to Paris. Phone calls were less frequent than text messages, but sometimes, they made it work. Paris wouldn't coddle her (and if she had wanted that, she wouldn't call her in the first place. She had really grown to like the way Paris was always able to tell it the way it was and bring her back to reality; if she was honest, she missed Paris in general).
"There's a housing crisis everywhere," Paris replied, snorting.
Rory groaned. "Great. I finally find a job where I can have an apartment again, and I can't find an apartment. At least not one that works for me." They were too large, too expensive, the commute sucked ... make your pick because Rory had heard and seen it all at this point.
"When do you start?" Paris asked, easily breaking through her complaints.
"My first day is in"-Rory took a quick peek at her calendar to confirm-"two and a half weeks." She sighed, eyebrows furrowing as if she could make it later if she stared hard enough. "I could stay in a hotel but there's no chance I will have time to look and I don't think the market will miraculously get better in a month."
"I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship, Gilmore," Paris pointed out dryly.
"I thought you preferred 'realist', Geller," Rory shot back.
"That was before med school," Paris grumbled.
"Wish you were at Harvard Law instead?"
"Hardly, you should see the self important clowns that go through there."
Rory could basically hear Paris's eye roll over the phone. "Yet Elle Woods owned the competition with a smile and perfect hair."
"You would know a thing about that, wouldn't you?" Paris muttered, and Rory wasn't so sure whether she was supposed to hear it. Either way, she could feel her cheeks warming up, her heart unexpectedly skipping a beat.
"Why, Paris Geller, is that a compliment?" she teased.
"You act like I haven't given them to you before," Paris replied, unimpressed.
"I still cherish every one," Rory said dramatically, a hand over her heart, despite knowing well and good that Paris couldn't see her.
"Well, mark it in your calendar then," Paris said. "I don't want you get get complacent."
"You always keep me on my toes," Rory said, more warmly than she initially intended.
"I can't deny that you've been a source of motivation over the years too," Paris conceded, not sounding as annoyed by the thought as she would've when they were back at Chilton. Then again, she wouldn't have admitted it either. "I'm sure you'd be running circles if you decided to pursue law. Lot less pink than Elle though."
"You would definitely make half the class cry," Rory said.
"Only half?" Paris sounded offended.
"I was trying to give a conservative estimate," Rory told her.
"Don't, it better be more than half," Paris said haughtily. "And I definitely wouldn't wear pink."
"You'd look good in it though," Rory said, without thinking, a vague image of a floral pink dress coming to mind, but she couldn't recall where it was from. There was a long pause on the other end. "Paris?"
"Just checking on a sentence I was writing," Paris said, but something about her voice didn't sound right. Rory wasn't going to call her out on it just yet though. "Anyway, I'm flattered don't get your hopes up, if you are hoping to catch me in something Barbie colored."
"I won't hold my breath," Rory said solemnly. "And we'll see each other soon! It's been way too long! I know you're taking the medical world by storm but hopefully we can catch up."
"Yes, it has," Paris said. "And on that note, I was thinking about your housing issue. I don't live that far from the Globe and I have a spare room. You can stay with me while you find a place."
Rory's eyes widened slightly. "Are you sure? I don't want to be ... in the way."
"You won't," Paris said dismissively. "You think I wouldn't tell if you were?"
"That's true," she conceded. "I'll try not to be in your hair too long."
"Don't worry about it," Paris said frankly. "Just get here and we'll figure out the rest." We - Rory kind of liked being part of a 'we', and for some reason, it was comforting that the other half of the 'we' was Paris.
"Will do. Thanks, Paris. I really appreciate it."
"Of course, Rory," Paris said. "I have to go finish this write up, but we'll be in touch."
Rory agreed, and they said their goodbyes, and she fell onto the bed, feeling better than she had in weeks, a weight off her chest. She never expected that she'd be living with Paris again, but she was even more grateful for her friend's offer. Besides, they had been roommates more than once and even if it had been a few years, she was confident they would be just fine. She would stay there for hopefully no more than a month or two while she got the rest of her act in order and find her own place.
It'd be just fine.
The following weeks just flew by and Rory was almost overwhelmed with all that she had to do. By the time that she reached Paris's place, she was just ready to collapse, but first made sure to give Paris a long hug, which was surprisingly reciprocated. She would tell herself later that it was only loneliness and how touch starved she was that made her reluctant to leave Paris's embrace. That made her feel as though there was no other place she'd rather be. Even when it tasted like a lie.
The spare room, which was apparently a study/junk room rather than an intended guest room ("What guests would I have, Rory? Or want?" was Paris's explanation) was cleared out and the bed Rory insisted on getting had beaten her there by a day. It was cheap and able to get there in time, which were her only two demands. Paris had judged a little but then again, anything was an upgrade to what Rory had been dealing with.
And living with Paris was easy, in both surprising and unsurprising ways. Time didn't seem to make much of an impact on their ability to work around each other. Rory knew how to handle Paris when she was on minimal sleep and coax her with her favorite (de caffeinated) tea rather than allowing her to drink coffee straight from the pot (which was a tad hypocritical but Rory wasn't bothered with the double standards) so she could actually get some rest.
Meanwhile, Paris, who was a slightly better cook than Rory, made sure to leave leftovers for her on nights she was working late, and brought her pastries from her new favorite bakery when she was in the area.
What was surprising wasn't how nice it was to wake up and find someone already in the kitchen, it was that she couldn't really imagine wanting it to be someone who wasn't Paris. It was surprising how much she didn't want to leave.
Not that she had time to look for her apartments. Her new job was great, but as predicted, it didn't leave her much time to look. Paris didn't seem eager to show her the door either, and outside of contributing to groceries, wouldn't let her split the rent either.
"I'm still looking," Rory promised, one night, as they shared Chinese takeout and actually ended up watching Legally Blonde, when they couldn't decide on anything else, a rare night they both had off.
"You don't have to explain," Paris said firmly. "I'm not showing you the door. Besides, it's nice to have ... company."
"Yeah, it is," Rory said, nudging her shoulder lightly, and Paris granted her a small smile. It was one of those looks that she felt was just for her and it made her feel ... special. She paid attention to the movie once more, where Elle Woods is confronting Chutney on the stand. "You know, when I watched this the first time, I liked Emmett"- referring to Reese Witherspoon's love interest-"But I have to say, Vivian and Elle are my favorite relationship now."
"Oh yeah, you're drawn to the competitive snob?" Paris asked, something in her tone that Rory couldn't decipher.
"Sure, that's what you see at first," Rory said, tilting her head backwards, "but then you find out she has more layers and she becomes Elle's best friend. What's not to like about that?"
"Well, apparently all she needed was an Elle," Paris said. "Sometimes that's all it takes ... someone who ... sees you."
"I guess so," Rory said quietly, looking over at Paris. "Shame she wasn't in the sequel though. I like to think they stayed in touch and kept being best friends."
"I imagine a friend like that doesn't come along very often," Paris said, sounding practical in tone but her expression was softer than it usually was, "I think Vivian would know better than to let her go."
"Yeah, Elle's sorority friends were awesome and supportive, but there are some relationships that just ... change you," Rory said.
"I can't argue with that," Paris said, brown eyes meeting Rory's blue, and Rory couldn't help but flicker to Paris's lips, the bottom that was finding its way in between Paris's teeth, before lifting her gaze once more. Was it her or was Paris closer than before? And did Rory want to be closer?
"That'd be a first," Rory said, breath catching.
"Better mark it in your calendar then," Paris said, and no, she didn't miss how Paris looked at her lips. Rory wondered if Paris's were as soft as they looked. They kissed once, a long time ago, and Rory hadn't really thought of it since. Until now. Cheering from the TV caused Rory to start, looking toward the screen once more, Paris seeming to do the same thing. And before they knew it, the movie was over, and they were cleaning up, and Rory was back alone in her bed, unsure what had just happened.
Maybe they just got too caught up in the movie? Or maybe Rory was just seeing things in the first place. After all, Paris didn't see her that way. Hell, Rory didn't see Paris that way too! They were friends, best friends even, and it was great, but it wasn't more than that.
Right?
It had to be.
After all, this was one of the relationships Rory couldn't afford to lose.
Still, sleep was hard to come by and Paris was already gone when she woke up the next morning, so there wasn't much time to think or do anything about it. When they ran into each other after Rory came back from work, Paris was acting completely normal, so maybe it was all in Rory's head after all. If Paris wasn't going to make it weird, then she wouldn't either.
But she also couldn't stop thinking about it, no matter how much she tried. Now that she had noticed Paris, she couldn't stop noticing her. And a part of her was worried she was going to end up screwing them up after all. Especially since the longer she stayed, the less she wanted to go.
She liked the domesticity, she liked life with Paris, and every time they went to their separate rooms, she wished they were going into the same one. Sharing a bed. A life. Rory liked being roommates, but she wanted to be partners.
And Paris had been so good to her already. It felt greedy to ask for more.
Yet more was what she wanted.
Which wouldn't end well. Rory had a terrible poker face. Eventually it was all going to come out, and she knew it would be bad.
That meant only one thing ... she had to move out.
So she started looking again, more seriously than she had since she'd been living with Paris. There were a few more prospects than there were before, and none of them were perfect (then again, what would be) but she'd make do with second best.
For some reason, she didn't tell Paris (lies), and she figured when she got a real opportunity, she would let her know. Take her out to dinner (a friendly dinner!) to thank her for what she'd done, and then exit peacefully. Friendship preserved.
Only for an open tab and a borrowed phone to lead to Paris finding out anyway. And Rory couldn't really interpret the look on her face, and kind of hated that she couldn't.
"So you're still looking for a place," Paris said flatly.
"Yeah," she said, knowing she didn't do anything wrong but somehow feeling as though she did anyway. "You knew I was."
"You haven't mentioned anything recently," Paris replied.
"Figured there's no point if it wasn't gong anywhere," Rory said, shrugging.
"Is it going somewhere now?" Paris asked.
"I don't know for sure," Rory said, "but there some places that could work. More than there was a few months ago, so there's a chance I'll be out sooner than later."
"I told you there's no rush," Paris said evenly.
"Maybe but you're going to want your space back," Rory said.
"If I did, I'd say so," Paris argued. "And even if I didn't, you'd know."
"I guess I would," Rory said lamely.
"You know you would," Paris insisted, before letting out a long sigh. "Look, if this is about what happened the other night-"
"What about it?" Rory squeaked. Was Paris going to reject her? Tell her that it's okay that Rory was interested but Paris wouldn't treat her any differently?
"You don't have to worry about me," Paris continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "I've been handling my feelings for long enough."
"Wait your feelings?" Rory said.
"Yes, I know I almost kissed you, but I know you don't want that," Paris said calmly, though her eyes and hands gave her away as anything but. "You don't have to leave."
"You wanted to kiss me?"
"Yes, Rory, of course I did!" Paris said, exasperated.
"And you have feelings for me?"
"Why are you acting like this is new to you? You were there."
"Because it is new!" Rory exclaimed.
"You didn't know?" Paris seemed visibly puzzled.
"No, Paris, I didn't ..."
"Oh ..." In any other circumstances, Paris looking as lost as she did would be a little funny, but Rory felt like she was spiraling and couldn't focus on that. "In that case, any chance you want to pretend you didn't hear this?"
"No, I don't," Rory said, because yes, that was the safer option, but Rory had played it safe with relationships before. She didn't want to now. Paris's face fell, and Rory quickly hastened to add, "Because I wanted to kiss you that night! I still want to now. I just thought ... you didn't."
Paris's expression cleared up but she peered at Rory cautiously. "And what does that mean? Because I'm not going to risk you for an experiment, Rory."
"It wouldn't be an experiment, Paris," Rory insisted. "What I mean is that I like you. That I like being here. That no one knows me like you do and I like it that way. That I want to stay and not leave. And I also want to kiss you ... a lot."
"Well, then," Paris said, blinking a few times. "We should do that then. Because I want you to stay and I've wanted to kiss you for years. It was easier when you weren't actually here to remind me how much."
"But better, right?" Rory asked, closing the distance between them, brushing a stray hair behind Paris's ear.
"Definitely better," Paris confirmed, and then they were kissing, Rory not being able to stand another moment without doing so. And it was definitely better. Better than she could've imagined and all she could want going forward.
"Don't move out," Paris said, once they parted, taking a few deep breaths to catch their breath.
"I'm not gong anywhere," Rory vowed, pressing a quick kiss on Paris's waiting mouth. "Any chance you'll let me pay rent now?"
"We can negotiate," Paris said, a familiar glint in her eyes. "Later."
Later was good.
Rory had better things to do now.