(The characters are not mine. They are the creation of Amy Sherman-Palladino and belong to the WB and the CW. Warning. Femslash. Paris/Rory. This story takes place immediately after my story "Sleepover". And yes, I know it doesn't exactly jibe with how I ended the first story. Just ignore the last few lines of that one, they were intended to close out the story when I didn't expect to write a sequel or two.)
*
"Good morning."
Two simple words. Rory Gilmore had heard them all her life. She had heard them from her best friend Paris Gellar before and even in that same sleep befuddled voice. However she had never heard them from the other side of the bed, particularly when neither she nor the blonde girl had a stitch of clothing on.
Of course being nude together made sense. After all, last night Paris had spent the night after the girls had spent the evening studying together. The two girls had been teasing and fooling around in Rory's bedroom when suddenly they just found themselves in each other's arms. Casting caution to the winds, the two girls had made love until they fell asleep, once again in each other's arms.
Rory had no idea what to say beyond returning Paris' greeting. "And good morning to you too," she said.
Paris sat up. For a moment her lack of nightwear escaped her as the sheet fell down to her waist, displaying what Rory already considered to be a splendid pair of breasts. Following Rory's eyes, the blonde girl gave a startled "Oops!", snatched the sheet and covered up.
Rory sat up too. Minding what had just happened, she kept a firm grip on the sheet. She looked at Paris who looked back at her. Neither girl seemed to know what to say or do next. Finally, not surprisingly, it was Paris who broke the silence.
"Well." That word seemed to be the only thing she could think of. She groped for something else. "Well." By the time she had repeated for the third time Rory had begun to giggle.
"For someone who is as amazingly articulate as you are I must say words seemed to have failed you this morning.'
Paris started to come back with one of her patented biting remarks. Then she relaxed a bit and chuckled. "I suppose so, but then I've never woke up in exactly this situation before. I'm not sure what the protocol is."
"I don't have any idea either," Rory confessed. "Saying 'Well, well' actually seems as intelligent as anything I can think of to say."
"But we do need to talk," said Paris.
"I know. It's just that I have no idea where to start."
The blonde shifted back and forth on the bed. "Should we pretend that last night never happened? That would be the easiest way to deal with this I suppose."
"Is that what you want?" asked Rory, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.
"I don't know," admitted Paris. "Is that what YOU want?"
"No," replied Rory decisively. She looked at her friend defiantly, only to relax when she saw relief in the other girl's eyes. "It's not what I want and I don't believe it's what you want either. Is it?"
"No," admitted Paris. "But I'm not sure what I want. I'm not sure what I feel" She shifted on the bed. "Last night was, well, it was overwhelming. It was amazing. But, Rory, you're my best friend. I don't know how to fit this in. And, I'm afraid."
"You're afraid?" said Rory incredulously. This was Paris. She was sometimes bitter, often bitchy and generally right about everything in the world. But afraid? "Afraid of what?"
"I'm afraid that I'm gay," Paris said, so quietly that Rory could barely hear her. The blonde looked at her friend. "Don't you understand? However it started we made love last night. And we're two girls!"
"Calm down Paris," impulsively Rory scooted forward and hugged her friend. "I know this is something completely new. I woke up before you this morning and laid here and watched you and thought. I thought quite a lot."
"And?"
"I thought about denying last night ever happened. I thought, just like you did, 'My God, I'm in bed with another girl and she's my best friend.'. I also wondered if this means that I'm gay, that we're gay."