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Chapter Text

The blazing heat of the desert sun warmed the hotel suite, even through the tinted windows. Rory's head was throbbing, and her stomach roiling the way they always did when she had a hangover. It took her a minute to piece together where she was with her unfamiliar surroundings.

The wedding. Logan had cheated on her with every woman he could find.

The bar. Doyle had told her he and Paris were broken up, and then tried to kiss her.

The apartment. Logan had shown up to try to talk to her, but Paris had left the door locked and screamed at him through it until he went away.

Campus. Logan hounding her, just like he had before, relentless in his pursuit with the big gestures and incessant phone calls. Doyle after Paris just as doggedly.

Until finally, Spring Break had started, and the two girls had had enough and decided to go on vacation just to get away from them.

And that was where Rory was now, she remembered, as she glanced around the suite, slowly levering herself up out of bed with limbs that felt like she was still swimming.

Vegas.

But that was where her memories ended. She racked her mind, trying to remember what had happened last night, but there was only the black hole of drunkenness and the throbbing, pounding ache of her brain as she strained to remember something. Finally, she gave up, stumbling her way to the sink and pouring herself a large glass of water. She was only able to drink it a sip at a time, forcing it down, but did so, her mother's reminders about proper hangover care still burning in her memory even after these years had gone by.

Rory stumbled her way to the opulent bathroom, noting Paris' unconscious form sprawled over the bed, only then remembering her friend was there with her on this trip, despite apparently sharing a bed with her last night. The girl was passed out hard, though, not waking as Rory stumbled through the room. Paris had spread, octopus like, over the bed, claiming the space that Rory had recently vacated.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve her screaming bladder, Rory stumbled back out, and decided if she was going to suffer, she wasn't going to do it alone.

"Paris," she said, halfheartedly, and gave the mattress a shove with her leg. "Wake up."

Her only response was a groan, so she gave the mattress another shove, harder.

"Paris!" Rory said, louder, more insistent. "C-SPAN just announced they're switching to VistaVision aspect ratio."

That got her a louder, outraged, groan, and a tousled blonde head of hair popping up from the pillows. "Reckless avant-gardists."

She blinked, looking around the room, an expression as confused on her face as Rory had felt earlier, before her eyes suddenly bugged out and she rolled out of bed, racing for the bathroom. Rory recognized the nauseous look on her face, and followed her into the bathroom, kneeling behind Paris as she sank to her knees in front of the toilet. As Paris proceeded to throw up repeatedly into the porcelain basin, Rory gathered up her loose hair behind her back. Rory just knelt there, gently stroking Paris' back, and cooing to her softly, until Paris finished, and slumped against the toilet, her head resting against the cool material.

"Paris?" Rory asked, and at the answering grunt, continued. "What do you remember from last night?"

"Vegas," Paris answered, mumbling, her mouth rubbing against her wrist. "Spring break. Drunk."

"Yes, Paris, but - what else?"

A lengthy silence was her only answer.

"Paris!" Rory shouted, and winced in sympathy at the loud noise at the same time as Paris.

"Does it matter?" Paris asked.

"Well, I'd like to know what happened in Vegas that's staying in Vegas, before we leave Vegas, if you get my drift," Rory snarked back, and watched comprehension slowly appear across Paris' face, a look of concentration settling in, even as her eyelids remained firmly shut.

"Pockets," Paris muttered monotonously, and Rory nodded in agreement.

"Right! Good idea, check our pockets," Rory answered, still holding Paris' hair back with one hand while her other slid first into the pockets of the jeans she was still wearing, then Paris', making the other girl shuffle slightly as Rory's hand dug in all of her pockets. "Okay ... we got ourselves some treasure here. A gum wrapper ... still with gum in it, lovely. Valet stub, cocktail napkins, five of them and - oh! Each one has a different phone number, awesome."

Rory's recitation was interrupted by a sudden buzzing on her cell phone, and she picked it up when she saw it was her mom.

"Mom! Hi!" She answered, about ten percent too chipper.

"Hey, kiddo," Lorelai answered, mirth clearly evident in her tone. "Everything alright, there?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Rory answered, with a forced smile on her face, unsuccessfully trying to dial back the chipper.

"Oh, because I got a missed call from you last night, and a ve-he-hery drunk voice mail. Something about getting to meet the king, and apologizing about not getting me a pretty dress. All I can assume is that you've gone full Pleasantville and met Yul Brynner, Ms. Leonowens, and if that's the case, I am so ashamed of you for not choosing The Sting , instead. Newman and Redford, baby girl, we discussed this!"

"I remember the pro-con charts vividly," Rory answered. "No, we're in Vegas, for spring break."

"You and ... Logan? You made up?" her mother asked, trepidation clearly in her voice.

"Izzat Lorelai?" Paris spoke up, choosing just then to rouse from her slumber. "Ask her what headache pills to take for this motorcycle that's revving in my head."

"Ahhh, that answers the question. Hi Paris!" Her mom screamed into the phone, loud enough to be heard from a foot away where Paris' head was. "Anyway, I was just checking in to see if you were alright or had fallen in love with Eddie from the laundry room, Ms. Stiles."

"You got a million of these, don't you?" Rory asked. "Yeah, we're okay. In our room, safe and sound - we just got a little drunk last night. I guess we needed to let loose after our breakups."

"Actually, more like three million references, but I see Luke giving me the stink eye for talking on my cell phone in the diner, so I'm gonna let you go. Make sure you didn't make any other calls you'll regret, though, cause who knows who else you told about your little When-In-Rome Vegas Holiday, Audrey. You two girls have fun, then, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Rory hung up her cell phone right after Lorelai did, and took a deep breath. If she was going to get to the bottom of what happened last night, she'd need to put new clothes on, that didn't smell like booze and cheap cigarettes. She'd get up from the floor in just a moment. Make Paris get up, too.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"They're not really switching C-SPAN to VistaVision, are they?"

---

The rest of the morning passed slowly, but without pause. Rory and Paris got themselves freshened up and headed down to breakfast - the hotel had a dizzying array of options, and just barely enough variety and quantity to satisfy a Gilmore. Along the way, Rory checked her phone, finding several missed calls - from Logan, that she had apparently ignored. Paris had even more ignored calls from Doyle - thankfully, despite how drunk they had been, neither girl had answered. The only other entry last night was to a local Vegas number, but it didn't answer when they tried ringing it. That left them only one lead for where they had gone last night - the series of cocktail napkins from The Speakeasy . The two girls made their way there as soon as it opened in the mid afternoon, the sweltering sun beating down on them from the moment they stepped outside.

---

Dim lighting suffused the interior of the bar, forcing Paris and Rory's eyes to adjust from the harsh sunlight as they stepped inside. As they blinked their eyes clear, they took in the art deco fixtures and dark wood paneling, giving the entire bar a classy, upscale vibe.

"You know, not where I thought we'd wind up given that we're retracing our black out drunk past selves," Rory commented quietly, barely audible over the soft jazz.

The two walked to the bar in synch, and, when the bartender gave them a smile of recognition, Rory felt the first unclenching of her stomach in relief that she'd felt all day.

"Hey, guess you two made it home safe," the bartender said, not pausing in wiping a glass with a clean rag. "Glad to hear it."

"You remember us?" Paris asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah - hard to forget a tipper as generous as you. One more reason to be glad you two made it home safe, and not just," the bartender gestured widely, taking in the entire establishment. "The whole two wasted girls out alone reason."

"We were wasted?" Rory asked. "Sorry, what was your name?"

"Ralph," he answered, putting the now clean glass down on the bartop and giving them both his attention. "And based on that question, I'm assuming you don't remember anything from last night?"

At their combined head shakes, he let out a sigh. "Well, I can try to help you fill in the gaps. Let's see - you were already a little tipsy when you got here. I don't know when - maybe six o'clock? Early, but not when we had first opened, like now. You both got some calls over the course of the evening - I think it was your exes?"

He looked to them for confirmation, and Rory nodded, remembering the missed call log on her phone from Logan, and on Paris' from Doyle. "Yeah, that was our exes alright."

"Definitely an ex-something," Paris muttered darkly under her breath.

"Yeah, well, you two didn't seem any more eager to hear from them last night, either," Ralph teased dryly with a twist of sarcasm. "You kept getting more exasperated with each call, and kind of turned it into a drinking game? At least, I think you did, I'm pretty sure you were ordering shots every time one of them called you."

"That would explain the motorcycle parked in your head," Rory snarked to Paris.

"You were both complaining about men a lot," Ralph said, and smiled at them. "Although I seemed to get a pass for bringing you booze. A little later - maybe like eight? Near as I could tell, you decided that if they were going to be sleazy guys, you could outsleaze them? I don't know what your train of logic was, but you decided to have a contest to see who could get more phone numbers from guys."

"Five," Rory muttered morosely.

"You only got five?" Paris asked, then snorted. "Weak effort, Gilmore. I probably got triple that."

"No, Paris," Rory shook her head. "We had five napkins that I found in our pockets. Combined."

"We only managed to get five phone numbers total?" Paris shook her head. "What is wrong with guys in this town? I'm smart, gorgeous, and driven. What could possibly drive guys away?"

"Gee, thanks, Paris," Rory rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, Gilmore, you know you're a catch," Paris said, her eyes flicking up and down Rory's body.

Ralph then cleared his throat, causing both girls to focus back on him from staring at each other. "Anyway, you were here most of the night - you didn't stay super late, though. Probably left around ten o'clock? The last thing you were talking about - we were packed that night, so I was drifting past you two and only ever heard snatches of what you were saying - one of the last things you were talking about was a wedding? Someone getting married?"

Rory groaned as he looked at her quizzically, and she nodded before hanging her head in shame. "Yeah, Honor's wedding. My ex's sister. Where I was hanging out with the bridal party. And found out that my ex cheated on me. With the entire bridal party."

Ralph had the good grace to wince. "Yeah. Maybe you were onto something with men being sleazes."

"Thank you, Ralph," Paris nodded.

"Anyway, you two seemed to come up with some sort of plan, because you asked to borrow the phone book, and then you two left," Ralph said, and gestured towards the end of the bar.

"That number in my phone we couldn't recognize - that would be it," Rory said, and groaned.

"Great. Just peachy," Paris griped. "Now all we have to do to figure out where we went after we left here is search the entire phone book."

"You can't just call them back?" Ralph asked, and Rory shook her head.

"We already tried. No answer."

"Well, maybe try again in a few hours? Vegas keeps odd hours sometimes," Ralph shrugged, then pointed towards the end of the bar again. "Or you could see if you could still find it."

"What, search the whole directory?" Paris rolled her eyes at him. "I had hoped you were smarter than that, Ralph."

"No," he drawled out. "I'm pretty sure you left the book open when you tucked it back under the counter. Not much call for people using a phone book, so, it hasn't been touched since then."

"I take it back, Ralph," Paris said, and slid a hundred dollar bill across the table to him. "You're one of the good ones."

He gave her a salute, and quickly tucked the bill away into his pocket, as Rory hurried to the edge of the bar and looked at the still open phone book sitting on a shelf underneath it.

"Well?" Paris asked her. "Any luck?"

"That depends," Rory answered her. "Can you think why we would have gone to the 'Chapel of Infinite Love' last night?"

---

The Chapel of Infinite Love was cool neither in aesthetics or temperature. It was as tacky as Rory had been dreading when she first saw the name in the phonebook. Not only that, but they were apparently so cheap that they weren't even willing to run the air conditioning.

"I guess love is hot, right," Paris mumbled, under her breath. "That must have been the metaphor they were going for. Right? Because why wouldn't you turn the air conditioning on in this sun blasted wasteland unless it was to prove just how steamy the love they foster here is."

"Paris," Rory muttered, her energy for her typical snark instead consumed by the twin needs to cool off and to learn what had happened last night. "Let's just get this done, so we can get out of here, okay?"

The two made their way through the tiny church towards the altar. Although the room seemed deserted at first, they heard sounds of life coming from a back room, light spilling into the chancel from the open door.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Rory called out.

"Be right with you, darlin'," a deep voice answered her, and she could feel Paris rolling her eyes.

"Darling? Who on earth calls a girl 'darling' -" Paris started ranting, only to cut herself off as the man stepped out from the back room.

Rory had to blink her eyes, just to make sure they weren't playing tricks on her. Sure enough, there, standing in front of her, was a man dressed as Elvis. The white jumpsuit was bedazzled with glittering sequins that reflected the prismatic light of the stained glass windows filtering the sunlight into a rainbow, but not diminishing its heat. His hair was curled up in a pompadour, coated thickly with hair gel, precisely crafted. And of course, the clerical collar under the jumpsuit to complete the look.

"That answer your question?" Rory asked Paris.

"Awww, if it isn't the two lovebirds!" The man said, opening his arms wide for a hug, that had both girls instinctively stepping backwards. "I told you I'd call you when your things would be ready for pickup this evening, but I guess you got impatient, huh? Can't blame you, I'd want to get a move on if'n I were you. Not to worry, though, as luck would have it, I just finished everything up."

"Finished ... what ... up?" Paris couldn't help herself but ask.

"Your certificate, of course! I got it right here, if you wanna follow me on back," he said, gesturing to them as he returned back to the room he had come from.

"This is how every horror movie starts, isn't it," Paris asked Rory.

"No, sometimes they're in outer space, or a sorority house having a sapphic coded pillow fight," Rory answered, even as she started following the Elvis priest into the back.

"Right here, a-huh," he said, as they entered, and saw him pointing to a workbench.

"Listen here, you copycat Hillbilly Cat, we just want some information, so knock off the knockoff King of Rock and Roll act, alright?" Paris berated him, losing her temper.

"Paris!" Rory scolded, horrified, but then turned to him with an apologetic look. "We would appreciate it if you could just drop the act, though, so we can figure this out as fast as possible."

He puffed up his shoulders for a moment, before slumping. "Yeah, I should have figured," he said. "You two didn't appreciate it last night any, either."

"Great, so, now that we have the preliminaries out of the way," Paris interrupted. "What were we doing here last night? And where did we go afterwards?"

"As far as I know, darlin' -" he paused at Paris' furious look. "Sorry, it just slips out sometimes. As far as I know, you went back to your hotel after you left here - I mean, that's where most couples go after they're through with here, isn't it? As for what you were doing ... why does anyone come to a church in Vegas?"

Paris and Rory exchanged silent, confused looks, before he rolled his eyes at their continued obstinance. "You got married?"

"Like hell!" Paris and Rory shouted over each other, the words different but the sentiments the same. "No way!"

Elvis stared at them, confused, and then shrugged. "Ah, I get it - weren't planning to elope? Had some big wedding all planned out? Well, no worries - you can always do a vow renewal when you get back home. Or hold the wedding and just not tell anyone the paperwork backdates a month or two."

Rory took a deep breath, and saw Paris starting to fume. She quickly reached out, grabbing the blonde's arm, and squeezing, comfortingly, catching her eye and trying to communicate to calm down and that she'd take point.

"I think what we mean is," Rory finally found the words to continue. "This is just some ... tourist attraction, right? Not a real wedding? Like, one of those magician certificates you can get in the mail?"

"Oh!" Elvis chuckled, and shook his head. "Nope, it's all legally binding. Here, your certificate -" and he paused to turn around and pick up a piece of paper that Paris snatched out of his hands. Rory could see Paris' fingers gripping the paper tightly, and her hands twitching, as if preparing to rip it in half. "Of course, that's just your copy - that's why I needed to hold on to it last night, I filed the other signed copy with the state this morning. You can do whatever you want with that copy - frame it, put it in your safe, heck, if you lose it, it won't matter, everything's on file with the state."

Rory saw the twitch migrate from Paris' hands to her eyes, and could tell the other girl was about to blow a gasket. She quickly tried to come up with another tack. "What about, like, look, no offense, but, we don't remember much of last night - we were pretty wasted? So, surely -"

And, before she could finish her sentence, say surely, it can't be legal if we were so drunk we can't remember signing it , he was nodding along, as if he understood, so she trailed off and let him answer instead.

"Ah, I get you," he nodded. "Don't worry, I have your tape right here."

As he reached to the side, and picked up a DVD case, Rory realized that he didn't understand what she was trying to say at all.

"Tape," Paris choked out, her jaw muscles clenched and her anger evident.

"Well, yeah," he chuckled. "You did spring for the deluxe package. You have your tape -" he thrust the case out towards Rory expectantly, who, dumbfounded, reached out and took it from him while he continued to pull items together for them. "- your happy memories binder, with guest registry and program guide including music selection and readings, plus all of your photographs, including both a full photo shoot of individual before shots and of the two of you together after the ceremony, your custom soundtrack playlist with your music selections, your bubbles - you elected for bubbles rather than rice afterwards - and we even pressed your bouquets to preserve them for you."

Paris was clearly at the absolute end of her tether, but not even that knowledge could still Rory's lips from uttering her next sentence and drawing her wrathful gaze from the Elvis impersonator.

"You just had to be a generous tipper on vacation, now we have all these memories of a lifetime ."

---

Rory felt stunned, fatigued, as the hotel came into sight at long last after blocks walking along the Vegas strip. Not just from the way the heat felt oppressive, like it was a physical body blow she had to force her way through, but how she had found revelation after revelation all day long about what had happened the night before. She strainedto remember what had happened the night before, and bits and pieces had started to come back with every revelation, but she still could only recall fragments. She couldn't put enough of the puzzle together to figure out what she was thinking, what train of thought had led to her now holding a bag of wedding souvenirs.

"Look," Paris said, starting up the argument again that they'd had five times in as many blocks. "We can just pretend none of this ever happened."

"How are we gonna do that, Paris," Rory retorted. "Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Literally, see?" She pulled one of the commemorative t-shirts out of the bag, holding it up where Paris could see.

"Okay, yes, obviously it happened ," Paris explained. "But we just don't tell anyone. No one has to know. It's just a piece of paper sitting in some clerk's office somewhere that will have no bearing or relevance on anyone's lives. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Until we want to get married for real some day, and they dig it up," Rory rebutted.

There was a moment of awkward silence, as Paris processed. The walk back from the church had been like that, their usual banter and lighthearted wordplay had grown tense and awkward. The knowledge that they were - only technically, only legally, but in a very real and actual sense - married weighed heavily on Rory, and she was sure it weighed equally on Paris.

Are we bantering like friends or bickering like an old married couple?

Rory couldn't stop the intrusive thought from running through her mind, from overanalyzing everything she said and did. At long last, though, they were approaching the gleaming metal and glass doors of the hotel, and the blessed relief of the air conditioning that waited inside.

"Okay, well, we can just get it annulled," Paris finally spoke up again. "It doesn't have to mean anything. I mean, is it even a real marriage? We don't have rings or anything. No rings, no marriage."

"But -"

"No rings, no marriage," Paris stated firmly. "Now, let's get out of this sun drenched hellscape. I swear, there must be something in the air here, it's probably leftover radiation from when they bombed the place. I knew we shouldn't have come here, why I thought this trip was a good idea, I'll never know, but, clearly, it's had an effect on the locals, if that Elvis is any indication. I know we were planning to be here for a week but, at this point -" Paris shrugged as they stepped inside the hotel at long last and started towards the elevator bank that lay beyond the verdant, plant filled atrium. "I think we head home early? We can sort things out there."

"It's tradition," Rory nodded in agreement, thinking of their previous spring break trip, and how they had left early, and watched Paris' shoulders untense in relief at her agreement.

The initial blast of cold air when they walked in through the door faded slightly as they moved deeper, the heat of the patrons and sunlight through the glass starting to overwhelm the hard work the air conditioning was doing, but still infinitely cooler than outside.

They didn't make it to the hotel room, though. Not even to the elevators.

"Ah, Mrs. Gellar!" a voice called across the room, and they both froze, turning to stare at it.

"Mother is here?!" Paris hissed under her breath, eyes swiveling around the room trying to find the woman. "That's just what this needs!"

"Ah, Paris," Rory hesitantly interjected. "I, I think he means you. He, he's looking right at us."

Paris' eyes immediately froze and then darted over to the concierge, and her shoulders squared back. Rory had to quickly scurry to catch up to her as Paris stalked over to the information desk. He didn't seem deterred by her rapid pace, instead gracing her with a smile.

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered your package, ma'am," he said, the soul of courtesy. Now that they were closer, Rory could see his name tag proclaimed him the day shift manager.

"Package?" Paris asked, hesitantly, sensing a trap but unable to see what it was.

"Yes, ma'am," he continued and paused. "Ahhh, you were slightly intoxicated last night, so you might not remember? I'm sure you had a busy day today, and so it just slipped your mind, but, you stopped by late at night and asked us to hold something in the hotel safe for you, for safekeeping. I can have one of the boys run and grab it for you if you would like to pick it up now, if you want? It will only take a moment."

"Sure," Paris hesitated a moment and then answered, drawing the word out. A quick beckoning hand gesture from the manager and one of the clerks ran off, only to return a few minutes later with a small box, which he presented to the two of them.

Paris picked the box up gingerly, opening it, and then froze. Rory couldn't see inside from her angle, but based on the look on Paris' face, it was clearly yet another unexpected surprise.

"Congratulations on your happy occasion, by the way," the manager said.

Rory side stepped to stand next to Paris and get a look inside the box, and it was her turn to freeze.

"So," Rory started hesitantly. "When you were saying 'no rings, no marriage' before -"

Rory trailed off, at a loss for words for once in her life, and merely gestured at the pair of beautiful, glittering diamond and gold wedding bands sitting in the velvet lined interior of the box.

Paris turned to her with a glare and Rory winced, knowing she'd pay for that comment later. But for the moment, only one thought ran through her mind.

I guess we can't pretend it didn't happen anymore.

Chapter Text

Rory felt her phone buzzing from inside her pocket, and quickly reached back to pick it up, juggling her bookbag and coffee cup.

"Hello?" she asked, when she finally got the phone open and pressed to her ear, on the final ring.

"Hello? My beloved daughter goes away to wander in the desert and returns home triumphantly, and all I get is a hello? The fruit of my womb sets out on a vision -" Lorelai's voice trailed off. "Yeah, that one doesn't really work."

"Maybe just avoid mentioning your womb next time," Rory nodded in agreement. "Never a crowd pleaser."

"That must be one of those things they teach you at college that I never learned," Lorelai joked. "Bringing up your womb in polite company is not a good idea. Anyway, I got your message, you're back? How was the trip? Did you go gambling? Play baccarat? What even is baccarat, how do the rules work? Meet any Elvis impersonators?"

Rory winced. "Yeah, I met one."

"Okay, seriously, kid, you're freaking me out," Lorelai continued to speak as Rory made her way across the quad towards the library. "What's with the monosyllabic responses? How was your trip?"

"Oh, you know," Rory stalled, glancing around her surroundings, making sure no one she knew was nearby. "It was interesting, you know. We checked out the fountains, went to a bar, watched The Power of Myth , Paris and I got married."

"Seriously, how many copies of that have you MADE," Lorelai groused. "Every time I confiscate that video, you have another copy laying arou-"

There was a long pause then, the absolute silence of the phone line only disturbed by the susurrus of life on the college campus around her.

"Sorry, Rory, it sounded like you were joking there, but, your delivery was extremely deadpan, so, I just need you to clarify, that, when you said you and Paris got married, you meant it as some sort of slang. Like, is 'getting married' what the kids are calling keg stands these days? Is it some sort of gambling slang?"

"No, mom," there was an even longer pause then, and Rory could hear the sharp intake of her mother's breath as she finally found the words to continue. "I don't know what happened. We were at a bar, and Logan and Doyle kept calling us, and we got madder and madder and kept drinking and then we got so wasted, that, I guess we thought it was a good idea? Honestly, we didn't even remember what happened the next morning, until we went and retraced our steps, we were so out of it."

"But - you and Paris ?" Lorelai said, then paused.

"Are you mad?" Rory asked, wincing. "It really was just a very bad drunken decision, and, we're working on getting it undone, Paris has some lawyer looking into it."

"I'm ... not mad," Lorelai said, slowly. "I'm just ... shocked? I never really thought of you two girls that way, and, I mean, it was always Dean and Tristan and Dean and Jess and Dean and Jess and Logan, and, I mean, Paris and you were friends, sure, and she was always here , but I just never really thought about you two having that sort of ... relationship?"

"Mom, it wasn't a real wedding, it was just a drunken ... mistake," Rory rebutted, but Lorelai answered instantly.

"Honey," Lorelai said, and Rory could hear her shaking her head. "When you get drunk, your inhibitions go away and you do things you wouldn't normally do. But you don't do something that doesn't feel real , feel right , even if it only feels that way in the moment. There's no amount of Miss Patty's punch I could drink that would get me drunk enough to decide marrying Sookie was a good idea. At some level, deep down, you had to think it was a good idea. That marrying Paris wasn't just a revenge thing, but something you'd actually consider."

"But -" Rory protested, and paused, having trouble finding a way to deny her mother's claim.

"Wow," Lorelai continued, chuckling slightly, and changed the topic. "I can't believe it. You're married ."

"It's not a real wedding, mom!" Rory protested, again.

"Yeah, but you got married," Lorelai said, and this time her chuckle sounded painful. "I've thought many times about your wedding, but I never thought the day would come and you'd be married and I wouldn't be yet."

Rory swallowed heavily, and looked around campus, feeling trapped.

"Look, mom, umm, I have to go, I have this study group I'm meeting in the library, and, I'm running late?"

"Yeah, kid, we can talk later. Love you, Rory."

"Love you, mom."

---

Rory disengaged the complicated system of bolts and locks on their apartment door, before quickly reengaging them after she shut the door behind her. Only once she was safely locked away inside did she let her bookbag and take out bag drop to the floor and slumped her shoulders, exhausted from a long day. She stood there, leaning against the door for a minute, working up the energy to pick up her Chinese takeout and carry it all the way across the five feet to the couch.

Eventually, the couch won, and she fished around in the cushions, hunting for the remote so she could put something on to watch as she ate her kung pao chicken and mapo tofu and some dish that she hadn't been able to pronounce but that she had picked off the menu. She slowly got frustrated at the absence of the remote before looking up and noticing it sitting on the kitchen counter, across the room, and whimpered pathetically.

"Rory?" Paris' voice called from the other room. "Is that you?"

"Yeahhhhhh," Rory drawled out. The sound of Paris' footsteps approaching filled her with hope that she might be able to get the remote without having to get up from the couch.

"Here," Paris announced, thrusting a sticky-note tabbed sheaf of papers bound with staples and binder clips towards her. "Sign these where I've indicated."

"What is this?" Rory asked hesitantly, long years of instinct warning her against signing or agreeing with anything Paris said automatically. She looked down at the stack of papers, expecting some sort of petition or plan to completely restructure the Yale Daily News , and instead froze when she read the title, in large, bold, cursive font.

Petition for Annulment

Oh. Right.

Rory swallowed heavily, as Paris started explaining.

"The lawyer just mailed those over today. Apparently it took a few days to put everything together, because it's from out of state, and Nevada is weird. Again, radiation poisoning accounts for their legal system, I feel."

It had been a week and a half since they'd gotten back from their trip to Vegas, and it had been the first day back in Yale that Rory had managed to get through the whole day without thinking about the fact that her roommate was now, legally, her wife.

"If you go ahead and sign, then I can add mine and we can mail this back and this whole farcical situation will be over with. Nothing more than a bad memory, like Francie's entire existence."

"Let me read it through first," Rory said, and started to skim the lengthy document.

"Why do you need to read it through?" Paris asked. "I hired the best lawyer for this sort of thing. It's all standard boilerplate, division of assets based on what we came in with. No surprises."

"Well," Rory answered. "There is one minor surprise. I thought my name was spelled L-E-I-G-H, but no, this has me down as Lorelai Lee Gilmore."

"What?" Paris snatched the papers back. "Oh, those hacks."

"It could be worse, Paris," Rory smiled at her.

"How?"

"Well, they could have spelled Eustace with an -IS," she explained, and watched Paris nod, and then freeze as her eyes darted down a few lines to where her name was written out as Paris Eustis Gellar.

"Oh, for the -" Paris started to curse before Rory interrupted her.

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't read the rest of it, but if that's emblematic of the level of care they're putting into the document as a whole, maybe that whole pre-law versus pre-med debate you have going needs to come down on the pre-law side if we're going to have to do a line item review of this thing. It's pretty hefty, and that's coming from the girl who reads Dostoevsky for fun."

"Let me go explain the magnitude of their mistake to them, and get new papers drawn up," Paris said, and looked up at Rory, with a pleading expression on her face. "I know I promised I would get this taken care of for us, and I'm so sorry about the delay. I really will get this resolved, and won't rest until I do."

"Well," Rory said. "If you really want to make it up to me, there's one thing you could do."

"What's that?"

"Pass me the remote on your way back to your room to yell at people?" Rory asked, pointing to the remote on the kitchen counter, a wide-eyed, pleading expression on her face.

---

The flickering fluorescent lights overhead in the hospital room had Rory feeling slightly dizzy. She turned to face the medical intern concentrating on her leg, and waited until she looked back up from inspecting her arms and legs to talk to her.

"Do you know how bad it is? How much longer it's going to be?" Rory asked, as politely as she could.

"Not bad at all, really. I've seen much worse bicycle collisions," The woman who looked only barely older than Rory herself turned to face her, tucking the magnifying glasses on her headband up out of her face, with a patient, kind smile on her face. "But it's probably going to be all night, unfortunately. It's only some minor scrapes and abrasions here on your arms and legs, but the real time sink is that we need to run a scan to make sure you didn't break anything, and the line for the x-ray is backed up a bit right now. And while you did a great job of cradling your head, you did bump it a little, so we would like to keep you for observation overnight, if possible, just to make sure you don't have a concussion. It looks like just a sprain on your arm and not a break, and you aren't showing any warning signs of a concussion, really, but we would rather be safe than sorry."

Rory winced, the lengthy list more than she had first expected when she got brought to the emergency room.

"Where is she? Get out of my way, unless you plan on personally escorting me to her room! No, I will not be quiet, you calm down!"

Rory's eyes grew wide as she recognized the familiar voice and her gaze focused more sharply on the doctor.

"I'd like to apologize in advance," Rory said, hurriedly. "For what's about to happen."

"What do you mean? What's about to happen?" the doctor's head tilted to the side, confused, in the manner of someone who had never been in the path of Hurricane Paris.

"Just remember, it's nothing personal, and it'll be over shortly, you just have to get through it," Rory continued her advice as the doctor's look of confusion didn't dissipate and the ominous clicking of heels drew closer. "And don't cry, she'll take that as a sign of weakness."

" There you are!" Paris exclaimed from the doorway, pausing only momentarily, before starting to walk into the exam room.

That brief hesitation was all the delay that the shift nurse needed to catch up to her and grab her arm. Paris glared at him, her gaze threatening.

"Listen, buster, you've got two seconds to get your hand off me before you learn what being on the receiving end of a krav maga elbow strike and takedown feels like," Paris threatened him.

"Ma'am, you can't be back here, we are outside of visiting hours, it's only immediate family allowed," he explained to her, his patience clearly strained. "No friends allowed. You can come back tomorrow."

"Well, then, genius, it's a good thing I'm not her friend," Paris explained, and, with a quick twist of her arm and swinging her elbow towards his arm, dislodged his hand. She took a step back and reached into the opening of her shirt. Her thumb hooked on a silver chain, dragging it out of her shirt and grabbing the ring dangling on the end of it. "I'm her wife , I have a right to be here."

Rory blinked, sure that Paris would somehow find a way to talk herself into being allowed to stay - she was Paris , after all - but wouldn't have guessed in a million years that that would be how she accomplished it. Most days, Rory didn't even remember they were married. The marriage had never felt real, like, the sort of thing she could use to file her taxes or claim the right to make medical decisions for her best friend. Not that Paris really had anyone else to make those decisions for her these days, with her parents having fled the country.

"Now," Paris continued, once the nurse had backed off slightly, and turned to face the intern. "You. What's the patient's status?"

"Umm -" the intern started before Paris cut her off.

"Did you just 'umm' at me? It had better not say 'umm' anywhere on her chart," Paris' eyes narrowed and her tone shifted into her most condescending and commanding one. "Vitals and diagnosis, now ."

The intern snapped to attention, and started rattling off Rory's history, while Rory just stared at Paris - at her wife - with admiration. Paris wasn't wasting any time, however, and had dropped her things off in a chair and was now inspecting Rory's pillows.

"That's more like it," Paris gave a marginal nod. "Now, go fetch her some better pillows - these are all saggy. And get your attending - I don't want her care in the hands of some jumped-up med student."

The nurse hastened out of the room, fulfilling Paris' bidding, while the doctor gathered her things and prepared to follow him.

"I've seen older and more experienced people than you handle that worse, you should be proud," Rory whispered to her before she started out of the room as well.

Now that they were alone, Paris turned to Rory, her expression relaxing and turning soothing, her hand brushing Rory's hair out of her face. Rory realized that she was relaxed and feeling comforted by Paris' presence; she had felt all the tension leave her muscles the moment that Paris had arrived. Back when they first had met all those years ago, just Paris' presence had been enough to have Rory's hackles up and have her all defensive and on edge. But that had faded long ago - Rory wasn't sure when she stopped dreading Paris' presence, and started anticipating it instead. It had definitely been before their ill fated trip to Las Vegas. And that feeling of being relaxed had only intensified in the past few weeks since their return to Yale, Rory coming to eagerly anticipate spending time with Paris even more than usual.

"How are you doing?" Paris asked, and Rory focused on her, Paris' tone betraying some nervousness.

"I'm fine, Paris," Rory told her. She patted the other girl's hand where it continued to brush her hair. "Some guy lost control of his bike and ran into me. It was a little scary, but nothing serious, it looks like. They're just running some tests to make sure everything is fine before releasing me. She really was taking good care of me, you know."

"You don't just deserve 'good' care," Paris muttered, but pulled a chair over to where she could sit next to the bed and hold Rory's hand. "You deserve the best."

---

The newsroom was humming with the energy it got when everyone was truly busy. Rory felt a presence loom up on her side and turned her head to see Paris had walked up to the editor's desk.

"What's up, Paris?" Rory asked her friend, who tilted her head towards the door.

"Grab a cup of coffee?" Paris asked, and Rory nodded instantly, recognizing a nervous energy in her friend's tone.

With only a brief interruption for Rory to sign off on an article, the two were soon in the hallway, heading towards the coffee cart outside.

"I finally heard back from the lawyers," Paris told her at last, as they stood in line.

Rory nodded. "What did they say?"

"Well, it turns out we can't actually get an annulment," Paris told her, and Rory's eyes widened. "I mean, we can , we just have to be there in person. You can't file from out of state. We would have to go back to Vegas to get it filled out."

"And they didn't realize this before , when they were sending us all those forms?" Rory asked, sighing, and quickly ordered her usual before standing off to the side. "Luke was right, they really are leeches."

"It turns out there's some really interesting questions of jurisdiction, and -" Paris interrupted herself. "Anyway, we need to go back out if we want to get the annulment filed. I checked, and there's round trip weekend flights we can take, be in and out in just a day or two?"

"Paris! I'm swamped! Between classes and tests and finals and the paper and Lane's wedding, I don't have time for another weekend in Vegas!" Rory finally took a breath. "I'm buried! You're buried too!"

"I mean, it's not the lightest course load I've had here, but I can make the time," Paris answered, taking a sip of her coffee, her hands fiddling with the cup nervously.

"Okay, I'm going to say something crazy here," Rory said, straightening her shoulders up. "What if we just stay married?"

"What?" Paris asked her, her hands stilling.

"Not forever, but, I mean, it's not like it's some urgent thing we have to deal with, right?" Rory asked, starting to build up a head of steam. "It's not like we have some other wedding we need to get the annulment done with for, we can just let it sit, and, go back over the summer, when we both have time. It doesn't have to be something we deal with now, does it?"

"I guess that's true," Paris said, hesitantly. "But you're sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Of course not," Rory said, grinning, and nudged Paris' shoulder with her own. "You're the best wife I've ever had."

Paris rolled her eyes. "Really setting the bar high there, Gilmore."

"Well, what can I say," Rory teased. "I've grown accustomed to your face."

"Steady on, Higgins."

"But seriously, Paris," Rory sobered up. "It's not like anything has really changed between us. We were already living together, we have been for years. I'm not dating anyone, not since Logan, and I haven't been interested in anyone, so, it's not like I'm missing out on some relationship I could be having by being married to you. And it's proven useful a few times, too."

"Really?" Paris asked, quirking her eyebrow up.

"Mhmm," Rory nodded emphatically, taking a sip of her coffee. "I liked the way you burst into my hospital room, all defensive and take charge-y. You were my knight in shining armor."

"I guess I kind of was," Paris agreed, blushing slightly.

"Well, I expect that kind of behavior from my wife, you know," Rory continued. "Honestly, it kind of reminded me of my grandparents."

"Richard and Emily?" Paris asked, confused. "They have an incredibly inspiring marriage, but how did it remind you of them?"

Rory looked around the hallway, and ducked over to the side, out of traffic, and Paris followed her. She dropped her voice low, making sure their conversation would remain private. "A few years ago, like, shortly after we started Friday night dinners? Grandpa had a heart attack."

"What?" Paris hissed, her hand coming up to rest reassuringly on Rory's arm, giving her a supportive squeeze. "I had no idea - is he okay?"

Rory nodded. "He's fine, now. Turns out it was only angina, but, it was really scary at the time - I'd never had someone close to me get sick like that. And grandma, she, she was all over the place. Ordering nurses to fetch more pillows and commandeering a bigger hospital room - I dunno, you just reminded me of her a lot. It made me feel ... safe. Cared for."

"Anytime ... wife," Paris said, her shoulders relaxing as Rory smiled at her teasing.

---

Rory waited for the hustle and bustle of students trying to leave the lecture hall to peter out before she made her way into the hallway. Her attention was on the notebook she was trying to stuff back into her bookbag, which is why she didn't notice the guy waiting for her until she almost ran into him. But then her eyes flicked up as she saw his legs standing in front of her and not moving.

"I need to talk to you," Doyle opened up as she stared at him.

"Umm, sure," Rory answered, looking around. "Is this about the paper? Cause, I swear, I think Tawny would be a good fit for the ROTC training locations piece. I know you had your eye on it, and, yeah, she's not as talented as you are, but we have to start building out the writers from the lower grades-"

Doyle waved her off impatiently. "No, that's fine - that's a good editorial decision, thinking about the continuity of the paper."

"Oh, good," Rory sighed with relief. "Cause I was going to suggest she talk to you about rewrites for when she has a first draft ready for review. You're really good at that whole mentoring young writers thing."

"Really? That means a lot, thanks." He blinked and smiled slightly, surprised at the compliment, before shaking his head to resume his train of thought. "No, I was here about something else."

"Oh," Rory scrunched her forehead in thought.

"I've been trying to get Paris to take me back, to at least hear me out or give me the time of day to at least talk to me, but she just won't do it," he said, exasperation clear in his voice. "You're her best friend, though! Surely you have some sort of advice for how to get her to forgive me?"

"Umm," Rory said, pausing. "You see. The thing is, I'm not so sure you can get her to forgive you? You really hurt her, not supporting her with the paper when she got removed as editor."

"I did, though!" Doyle protested, and Rory glanced around the empty hallway as his voice raised. "I was supportive of her for weeks!"

"Well ..." Rory started to explain. "You did, but then you two got in a huge fight. You told her how I wanted to make her piece a series and you were against it. That's not really supportive? Besides, you were cheating on her." Just like Logan did to me , Rory managed to keep herself from saying.

"No, I didn't!" Doyle spluttered. "I never cheated on her!"

"Doyle," Rory said, her tone flat, unwilling to accept his denial. "It was me , remember? You tried to kiss me at the bar. Right after you two had a fight and she kicked you out. Not even a full day later."

Is this what Logan would try to say to her, Rory wondered. Not even apologize, just deny that it had happened. That he had done anything wrong. Make her doubt herself. Maybe it would even work, if he did. But Rory was far more protective of her best friend, more than she would ever be of herself, and she wouldn't let Doyle try to deny what she herself had seen him do.

"But, but we were broken up! She had kicked me out! She kicked you out, too! Why does it matter what happened to her?" Doyle asked, his tone so pitiful that Rory couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, before remembering what had happened.

"Of course it matters! It was right after! It shows her that you weren't serious about the relationship if you could go from getting kicked out to making out with another girl an hour later," Rory explained, patiently. "And even if we set aside that it was the same night, there's still the fact that I'm her best friend. I'm not just some random girl. It hurts so much more knowing that it was someone you both were friends with. I, I just don't know how she can forgive you for that."

"She forgave you, though, why can't she forgive me ?" Doyle asked, and Rory sighed.

"That's completely different," Rory shook her head. "I'm only her best friend, you were her boyfriend. You're supposed to stick by her side, no matter what."

"That doesn't make any sense," Doyle raised his hands in exasperation. "You didn't support her either after she got kicked out! Heck, you got made editor of the paper! Why can she forgive you, but not me?"

"And she threw me out of the apartment for becoming editor, remember?" Rory asked him. "Look, this was not our first fight, her and me. We have had some doozies over the years, too. If she forgave me easier than you this time, it's only because I have history with her, that I've proven I will stick by her side through thick and thin, for better or worse."

Rory's eyes grew wide at the words, and she felt her hands shaking, worried she had somehow given the game away. Her thumb drifted to her finger, rubbing it where her ring sat when it was late at night and she took it out of her jewelry box when she couldn't sleep. Finally, voice shaky, she continued to speak. "Paris doesn't forgive easily. It takes hard work to get her to forgive you."

"Why?" Doyle only looked confused at her statement, and Rory couldn't help but wonder if he ever really knew Paris, ever really understood her.

Rory gnawed on her lip for a moment, debating how much to explain, before breaking down and giving in.

"Because," Rory stated, flatly. "Her parents abandoned her. Sure, they were all still living in the same house, technically, but they were always away on business trips and vacations. They left her alone with her nanny for literally years. Then, just when she started to get older and could think about a real relationship with them, they divorced, and left her feeling all abandoned, again. Then she started college and her parents stopped paying her nanny, so she had to get a job on the other side of the country, leaving her alone once more. And let's not forget the whole reason you two rented that apartment, because they fled the country without her, left her with barely any money, no home, and no family."

Rory took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "She's used to being betrayed, and abandoned by the people who claim to love her. If you want her forgiveness, you have to show her. Show her that you won't just leave her, too, like everyone else has. Not just words, but actions. And so far? Your actions haven't been that impressive."

Silence reigned in the otherwise empty hall for a moment as Doyle processed her words.

"But, how can I do that, when she won't even let me have a chance to explain -" he started to say.

"Weren't you listening?!" Rory cut him off. "She doesn't want an explanation. She doesn't want an apology. She doesn't want words. Paris needs you to do something, something concrete, something real, to show her that you are trying to make things right."

"Okay," Doyle said. "But, what? What can I do? What should I do?"

"Doyle!" Rory let out an exasperated sigh. "It won't mean anything to her if it comes from me . You have to be the one to do it. It'll mean way more to her if it comes from you . I'm sure you can figure something out, if you really want her back."

Rory hadn't intended that as an actual qualifier, but Doyle just stood there, looking profoundly sad, Rory's words sinking in to him.

"I'm not sure I do," he said at long last. Doyle gave her a small wave and started to walk away, sadly. "I'm not sure she's worth it."

Rory could only look at his back as he rounded the corner, shocked at the sudden turn of conversation. Shocked that Doyle didn't think Paris was worth fighting for. Rory felt a fire start to grow in her stomach, newfound determination entering her. If Doyle wasn't going to show Paris she was amazing and deserving of affection, then Rory would do it herself.

She then finally started making her way back to the apartment, detouring from her typical route to stop by a small drug store on her way home. Once she got there, performing the intricate ritual of unlocking her apartment, she called out inside.

"Paris? You home?" she asked, locking the door behind herself, spotting her roommate in the kitchenette. "Hey, I got you something."

Paris turned, taking in the sight of Rory, holding a bouquet of a dozen roses, and looked confused down at the flowers.

"What?" Paris asked, her eyes flickering between the flowers and Rory's face, trying to find the trick. "The flowers? Are those, are those for me? Why did you get me flowers?"

"Yes, the flowers, and because," Rory said, a perky smile on her face as she thrust the bouquet towards Paris. "You deserve to have someone buy you flowers. And, since we're married, I get dibs on being the one to do nice things for you."

The smile on Paris' face as she hesitantly took the bouquet, unused to kindness, made the fire in Rory's stomach start burning even more intensely, and she couldn't help but match her smile with one of her own.

---

Rory slowly made her way up the narrow staircase, the multiple bags of groceries she was carrying digging into her wrists, threatening to cut into them. The bulky boxes kept banging against her knees with every step, not hard, but irritating. Finally, she got to their apartment and stepped inside. The sight that greeted her was one she was not expecting. Paris, laying on the couch, curled up under a blanket, tears staining her face, completely engrossed in the television.

"Paris?" Rory asked hesitantly, watching her friend jerk slightly, taking in her presence for the first time. Rory immediately dropped the bags to the floor and crossed the room to the couch. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Paris said. Before Rory could follow up, Paris' hand darted out for the remote, trying to change the channel on the TV, and Rory couldn't help herself but to turn and face the screen, just as Paris found the mute button.

"Paris ... what is this?" Rory asked, even though she was sure she knew just what Paris was watching.

"Fine," Paris sighed out. "You caught me. I'm watching the tape."

"That ... that's our wedding," Rory said, dumbfounded, watching herself and Paris smiling at each other in the garish Chapel of Infinite Love. "Why are you watching our wedding?"

Rory sunk down onto the couch in her usual spot, dazedly. Paris retracted her legs backward to give Rory room to sit down, and the two stared at the video tape, as it kept cutting between their faces, and Paris slipping a ring onto Rory's finger, a ring that sat in her jewelry box not ten feet away.

"I just keep watching it for some sort of clue," Paris said, her voice soft, quiet, as if afraid to disturb the moment. "At first, I was putting some arts and crafts supplies away in the closet and found the bag with everything in it, and realized we had never actually watched the tape of what happened. And then, I decided, hey, maybe if I watched it, I might be able to remember something of what happened that night."

"But this is maybe the fifth, sixth time I'm watching it," Paris continued, her voice barely a whisper. "And I don't feel like I'm any closer to unlocking a memory. And ... I just am so confused. That Paris, there, in that church ... she doesn't feel like some grand adventure I forgot about. Watching me on screen, it feels more like some version of me from another world, another timeline. I can't understand what she's thinking, she just feels foreign to me."

On the screen, it was Rory's turn to slip a ring onto Paris' fingers, and Paris' smile lit up the whole church.

"I don't know who she is," Paris said. "I don't think I've ever been that happy in my entire life. How can she be me? How can I possibly be that happy?"

Rory's hand drifted out blindly, her eyes still locked on the screen, finding Paris' hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Do you think ..." Rory started to say, and trailed off, until she felt Paris' eyes locked on her. "Do you think we could watch it together, maybe? From the beginning? I haven't seen it, yet, and ... I want to see you happy, too."

Paris picked up the remote again, and rewound it to the start of the video. Rory, meanwhile, kicked her shoes off, and lay down on the couch, alongside Paris, scooching the blanket out so she could lay under it too. In the awkward position she found herself in, she had to drape a hand over Paris' hips to be able to settle down comfortably.

The groceries lay forgotten against the front door, the frost slowly slipping off of the gradually melting ice cream, as the two girls settled down to watch their past selves drunkenly pose for photographs and pick out songs together.

Chapter Text

The road was dark as Rory took the turn off the highway for Stars Hollow, night having fully fallen while they were halfway to her hometown. The semester had wound to a close mostly uneventfully, and the newspaper put to bed for the year last week. Rory drew the short straw of having her last final in the very last time slot on the last day of finals week, so the campus was already deserted by the time her exam finished and the two girls were able to hit the road.

"Remind me why we're going to Stars Hollow this weekend," Paris asked her. "Which of your town's many, many bucolic festivals is this?"

"It's the annual Flower Festival," Rory explained patiently.

"Right, the one where Romeo and Juliet ran away from home and met under the stars and founded your little town," Paris half asked, half guessed.

"No, that's the Firelight Festival," Rory rolled her eyes. "The Flower Festival is the one where a young guy went off to fight in the Civil War for the Union. He left his fiancée behind, and they weren't rich enough to afford an engagement ring, so he made her a crown of flowers. She wore it the whole time he was off fighting in the war, weaving in new flowers as old ones died. And he would send her back letters from everywhere Sherman's army camped, with little flowers and seeds and cuttings inside for her. Which is where a lot of the plants from the Stars Hollow Arboretum come from, why there's plants from all over the country there."

"And in honor of this beautiful and touching story, we ..." Paris trailed off before making a guess. "Dance around the maypole?"

"No, the girls wear flower crowns and if a guy likes her, he gives her some flowers for her to weave into it, if she likes him back," Rory explained. "Also, there's the annual flower growing competitions, and then Miss Patty's ballet class does a dance."

"Around the maypole?" Paris needled her.

"No, a little ballet number on stage," Rory continued before pausing. "... it's the boys and some of the little kids who dance around the maypole."

"Ha! I knew it," Paris muttered.

"It's actually a really sweet festival," Rory said. "It was one of my favorites when I was young. The whole town square smells amazing with all the flowers on display for judging, and the little ballerinas in their flower dresses are so cute, and it's really romantic."

The car finally made its way down the back roads to the edge of town, and they slowed, taking in the flowers decorating every light pole.

"Please tell me we can stop for coffee," Paris asked, and Rory nodded, flicking her turn signal on to take a right instead of going straight.

"It's late, but Luke might still be tidying up," Rory told her. "We can stop by and see if he's still around."

A few minutes later, they were parked on the street in front of the diner. Rory glanced through the windows as they walked up to the door with the CLOSED sign on it, and spied Luke through them, wiping down tables. Rory rapped her knuckles on the door, and then waved rapidly when Luke turned around. The man looked tired, and worn down, but she was gratified to see a smile on his face at the sight of her. He ambled over, slowly, and unlocked the door, opening it wide.

"Hey, sweetheart," Luke said, his arms hugging around her as Rory wrapped her arms around his waist. "You back for the summer?"

"Not the whole summer, I have some plans, but just got done with my last final," Rory said, giving him one last squeeze before letting go. "Do you, by any chance, still have a pot on for us?"

"Us?" Luke looked up and spied Paris, giving her a nod of his head. "Hey, Paris. Yeah, there's still half a pot left if you two want a cup. Always the last thing I clean up, ever since I met your mother."

Rory chuckled, and followed him to the counter as he stepped behind to fetch two mugs. Before he could pour their coffee, however, the phone rang. Luke stared at it in consternation for a moment, before picking up the receiver.

"Luke's Diner, we're currently closed ," he answered, emphasizing how late it was. He listened for a minute, though, his eyes going wide. He hurriedly grabbed his order pad and scribbled down some notes as he kept listening. "Yeah, that's - I will be there as soon as I can - umm, maybe 20, 30 minutes? Well, I'm sorry, I'm over in Stars Hollow - yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up, looking frazzled.

"What's wrong?" Rory asked him, feeling her own concern starting to rise. "Who's hurt?"

"Huh?" he said, taking in Rory's expression. "Nobody's hurt. Well, somebody is, just not anybody you know. April, she was at a sleepover, and the mom got sick, so, they had to rush her to the hospital, and they're sending all the girls home, and since she was, you know, at a sleepover , Anna isn't home tonight, so she can't pick April up. And now I have to get over to Woodbridge -"

"Go," Rory interrupted him, gesturing towards the door. "We can finish cleaning up and lock up after ourselves, if you want?"

"Rory, I can't ask you to-"

"You're not asking," Rory rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's not like it's my first time working here. Or has anything changed where it is in the last four years since Louie died?"

Luke nodded his head, and tossed her the keys to the diner, before hustling to the back door. He paused right as he was about to exit. "Lock up after yourselves, I won't be back tonight, so, just leave the keys at your place?"

Rory nodded, and waved him out of the diner. The two girls spent a few minutes in an elaborate dance, passing dishes and washcloths back and forth as they tidied up the diner. Finally, finished, Paris moved over to the counter where Rory had laid out the coffee cups and sat down.

"No, come on, Paris," Rory said, walking around the counter and grabbing her hand, dragging her over to the window. "This is the best part."

Outside, with the diner lights off, they had a clear view of the town square. Arrayed in a labyrinthine puzzle of irregular rows and columns were bench after bench of flowers, each submitted for judging in the competition. The dizzying array of colors formed the backdrop as all sorts of people, residents and visitors alike, wandered among them, stopping and smelling the various flowers. Every now and then, a guy would stop a girl, offering her a flower.

"See?" Rory asked, her voice quiet. "Isn't this fun?"

It was an intimate experience, standing shoulder to shoulder to get a good view out the window together, watching strangers approach each other and flirt in the maze-like organization. Because of how the tables were laid out, it was almost impossible to predict who was approaching who until they actually met up.

"Yeah," Paris answered, her voice soft, a note of wonder in her tone.

Rory turned to face her, and, sensing her motion, Paris turned to the side to face her as well. A moment passed; a breath, and then another. The emotions and attraction that had been building for half a semester, ever since they went away to Las Vegas, had finally bubbled up and boiled over, and Rory couldn't contain the feelings that had been slowly crowding out any thought of Logan, or boys or anything.

In what seemed to be the same moment, both girls surged forward, the coffee cups placed down on the windowsill and the table on either side of them. Now freed, their hands traced forward over each other, Paris' tangling in Rory's hair and Rory's tracing gentle patterns on her sides. Their lips crashed together, gentle, but not hesitating a moment. Rory's tongue licked at Paris' lips, insistent and desperate to deepen their connection.

After a long moment, they pulled back, lips hanging open, staring at each other with equally wide eyes.

"Whoa," Rory said, before Paris was diving forward again, kissing her back. "Mmm, wait, diner, upstairs."

Paris pulled back confused for a moment, before remembering where she was and nodding. She pulled away, holding Rory by the hand, dragging her to the draped curtain. She only made it two steps before Rory was tugging on their joined hands, making Paris turn around, and kissing her again, pushing her back against the table, jostling the chairs and knocking over the salt and pepper shakers.

Paris slid her hands up Rory's back, pulling her closer. She moved her mouth down to Rory's neck, finding her pulse point and started sucking and kissing. Rory moaned, and Paris flipped their momentum, pushing Rory back to the counter. Her legs hit a stool knocking it over, and she splayed her hands out for stability, knocking down a napkin dispenser as Paris' mouth drifted lower, teasing the hemline of her shirt as she inched down her chest kiss by kiss.

It only took another three or four tries before the two made their way up the stairs.

---

"So." Rory said.

She twisted her head to face Paris, panting, and sweating, and was relieved to see her friend was in just as disheveled a state.

"Yeah," Paris nodded. "You were as good as I imagined."

"You ... imagined?" Rory asked, managing to blush even after what they'd done.

"Well, of course," Paris shrugged. "You're very attractive, you know. How else was I supposed to figure out my sexual orientation without some practical exercises?"

"Yeah, well, I thought I had mine figured out," Rory laughed softly. "Until now."

They lay there, breathing heavily, next to each other, hands brushing against each other but otherwise still.

"So," Rory tried again. "What, umm, do you - we're still married."

Rory winced, that having not been what she intended to say, but her brain had jumped three steps ahead in the conversation.

"Yeah," Paris nodded. "Maybe, if we're going to make a go of this, we should stay married? I mean - assuming you want to give this a try?"

Rory breathed a sigh of relief. Like always, Paris knew exactly where her brain was at.

"Definitely."

Rory took another deep breath, reaching her hand out to brush against Paris'. It had been a shocking evening for her. She hadn't considered that she was into girls, let alone Paris. But now, laying here, next to her best friend, her wife, who she'd just had the best sex of her life with.

Wait.

"Paris?" Rory asked, and heard an answering murmur from next to her. "Just ... hear me out on this? I'm still working through the details, so."

Paris sat up on her elbows, turning to face her, paying rapt attention.

"We're friends, right? Best friends? I mean, I know I say my mom is my best friend, and Lane, and they both are, but - but you're the one who challenges me, who is there with me, every step of the way? Like, when I interviewed those track guys for that piece last year, they said how they need to have someone practicing with them, because without someone keeping pace, they don't run as fast on their own. That, that's what you are to me?"

Rory took a deep breath and continued.

"But you're not just my best friend. It's not just that we were both studying hard back in Chilton, and now Yale. You, we have a lot of the same interests? We care about the same things. Have the same sense of humor. You can be snarky and difficult, but so can I, and, I don't find you difficult the way other people do?"

"And we've been living together for ... years," Rory kept speaking, her thoughts barely staying one step ahead of her mouth. "We know we work as roommates. We've figured out how to divide the chores and who does what. We've been living together for three years now, since we started at Yale. Longer, even, if you count that summer in DC."

"And now, we just had - well, I don't know about you, but what was the best sex of my life. Like, properly earth shattering. Definitely have me reliving all of my past boyfriends, because, wow , that was amazing. Does - does all of that sound right to you?"

"It sounds like a pretty accurate summation so far," Paris said, slowly. "And it was the best sex I've ever had, too."

Rory found herself blushing as she continued. "So, if all those things are true, if we challenge each other, if we're best friends, if we have the same sense of humor and interests, and we're good with sex being added in now, too ... isn't that what marriage is ? Like, isn't that everything that people look for in a marriage, what makes one good and worth fighting for? Is there a single thing we don't already have, haven't already figured out, that would be a reason to not be married?"

There was a long pause as Paris digested her words. "You're right. I mean, if we weren't married, I would say we should wait until after college, but ... wait. Is this your way of proposing to me?"

"No ..." Rory paused. "I think this was my way of seeing if you thought it was a good idea. This is me proposing to you. Do you want to stay married, get married, for real? Like, have a proper ceremony with friends and family?"

Even in the dim lighting, Rory could see the beaming smile on Paris' face as she ducked her head before moving in for a kiss.

"We might want to clean up the diner before the morning rush, though. The whole town still hasn't let mom live the whole walking out of Luke's apartment pantsless thing down."

---

Paris laid out a series of papers over the kitchen table, documenting everything from checklists to wedding dresses to tasting menus, until, by the time she was finished, the entire table was covered. She stared at it, chewing her lip in confusion, before realizing what was missing, and fetched a giant piece of paper that she unrolled over the whole mess, pinning it down with two empty mugs to reveal the seating chart. Lorelai took one look at the entire mess and groaned, walking over to her coffee machine to encourage it to brew faster.

"That's pretty thorough," Rory said, noncommittally.

"I wanted to make sure we had everything covered, so I cross-checked several of the most popular wedding planning sites on the internet," Paris explained. "Then I went ahead and called up two of the event planners I have on speed dial to get some expert opinions. Oh, and I also stopped by the Dragonfly and had Michel run me through everything that your inn offers - sorry for not going to you first, Lorelai, but I knew you were busy this morning."

Lorelai tilted her head to the side, a smile on her face that was rare to see before her first cup of coffee. "Well, at least Michel has to deal with this too, that's an upside."

She poured her coffee when the pot finally filled sufficiently, and took a deep sip, closing her eyes to savor the flavor. When she opened them, again, centered, she circled around the table to stand next to her daughter and her new daughter-in-law.

"So, what do we have?" she asked, focused on Paris' battle plan.

"Right," Paris said, focusing herself back on her prepared speech. "We are technically, legally married already, so we don't have any particular need to complete a wedding on any sort of timetable. However, given that we've decided for this to be a real relationship, we felt it would be best to have a ceremony as soon as possible, so that people understand what our status is, rather than trying to explain that actually, we've been married for months, we got drunk in Vegas, but we're not getting a divorce -"

"Annulment," Rory corrected, but Paris shook her head.

"Technically, based on the weird way Nevada and Connecticut law works, annulment went out the window as an option last night, toots," Paris explained and Rory blushed at having her sex life discussed in front of her mother. "So. We've been married, but it was a drunken thing, but we're not getting a divorce, because we're serious about this relationship - the set of incongruities has been leading to confusion as we discuss our status, so we just want to get everything cleared up as soon as possible so people know where we stand."

"And, based on the schedules of everyone we identified as important to inform or be present," Paris shuffled the papers on the table to bring one forward. "It's either in the next week or two or not until winter break between semesters. Which is a very long time to be stuck in this weird limbo zone of kind of married and definitely together but not having it acknowledged."

"Tell me about it," Lorelai muttered and then blinked. "Okay, so we need to plan a wedding on a week's notice. We can manage that."

"Now, I did some preliminary research and identified several prominent and well-respected wedding bands to play in the reception and -"

"Oh, I thought Hep Alien was going to play the reception?" Lorelai turned to face Rory who nodded.

"Yep, that's the plan! I'm reaching out to Lane today."

"Wait," Paris said. "I thought Lane was your bridesmaid?"

"She's multitalented, she can do two things in the ceremony."

"Okay, well, I guess that settles that issue," Paris said, clearing several papers off the table. "Then, we need to get dance lessons at some point - I'm not sure my dance instruction covered the whole 'two ladies, who leads' question. I found several reputable schools in the area, who are sufficiently open-minded, at least, on the phone -"

"Miss Patty," Rory nodded confidently, and Paris cleared another three papers off the table.

"Hey, at this rate we'll have enough room for pizza by the time dinner rolls around," Lorelai joked.

"And then, assuming we want to serve drinks, we need a bartender or two."

Lorelai and Rory looked at each other with matching smiles on their faces and spoke in sync.

"Kirk."

---

"Grandma?" Rory asked, over the phone.

"Rory! How delightful to hear from you! How is school, did you finish all your finals?"

"Yes, grandma. I came home yesterday, and, well, there's something I need to ask you. And also a piece of news to tell you."

"Oh? Of course I'd be delighted to help with whatever you need."

"I was hoping to borrow - well, not borrow so much as ... get? One of your dresses."

"Oh? I didn't think you generally liked my sense of style - oh, not to imply you think it's bad , just that you're much younger and dress more casually as a result? Which one did you have in mind?"

"Well, that ties into the bit of news I have to tell you. You remember a few years ago, we were looking at that old photo album, the night we got snowed in? I was wondering if you'd be okay with giving me your wedding dress? And maybe with letting mom make a few alterations? Update it a little bit to be slightly more modern and fit me better? It turns out, I have need of it sooner than I thought."

---

"Lane!" Rory called out into the phone. "How are you doing?"

"Really well," Lane laughed frantically and stressed, then paused. "Not so well. Turns out this whole honeymoon thing is, well, sucky?"

"In that case, I feel less bad about disturbing you and also better about asking you for a favor."

"Favor? What kind of favor? Is it possibly the kind that requires us coming back to Stars Hollow early from Mexico through no fault of our own?"

"You could say that ... you remember how there was that whole 'you were the first of our class to get married' thing?"

"Considering I'm on the honeymoon from hell, you could say I remember."

"Well, see, not to steal your thunder, but ... you're not."

"Not what?"

"Not the first of our class to get married. Paris and I, we may have gone to Las Vegas over spring break, and, kind of got drunk and got married in the world's tackiest church? And we didn't tell anybody, except, like, mom, because we were going to get it annulled. But then one thing led to another, and now we want it to be for real, and we're having a vow renewal slash wedding ceremony here in Stars Hollow? And when exactly we have it depends on when you get back so I can have my one and only bridesmaid."

There was a long pause.

"Lane? Are you still there?"

"Tell me, Rory, is the sex ... good?" Lane's voice dropped to a whisper. "Is that the secret? I should have married another girl? Cause right now, I'm open to considering options if it means not having sex with guys. Or a guy. Ever."

"Lane! Look, sex with guys can be ... good."

"But not as good as sex with girls, is that it?"

"...We can talk when you get back."

"So. Wow. You're getting married. Are already married?"

"Kind of both, we're in the middle of Schrodinger's marriage right now."

"And you want me to be your maid of honor?"

"Bridesmaid. Mom kind of called dibs on the whole maid of honor thing a decade or so ago. And to play the reception, if you and the band are up for it."

"Rory! Of course we'll play. Do you know any songs you want so far, so I can tell the boys to start practicing? ZACH! BOOK US A RETURN FLIGHT, WE'RE GOING HOME EARLY, RORY NEEDS US!"

"OH, THANK GOD ."

"Well, only the one. Our first dance."

"Oooh, what is it?"

"Eternal Flame? The Bangles?"

"Awww! That's a great first dance song!"

"Thanks, Lane."

Another long pause.

"... Hey, Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember, like, a year and a half, two years ago, when Jackson ran for selectman and we played the victory party?"

"Wow, yeah, that was ages ago. Why?"

"Well, it's just that you said you were my groupie."

"That does sound like something I would say."

"Yeah, you said you were my groupie, but that you were saving your lesbian experimentation phase for junior year."

"Lane!" Rory cried, horrified.

---

"And, one-two-three, one-two-three, glide with your left foot Rory, and then twirl and dip and no, no, no girls, that's all wrong," Miss Patty levered herself off the wall of the studio. She took a drag on her cigarette, and then walked over. "It should be an organic movement, gentle, curving, not so stilted and formal. You should dance like you make love, flowing, gliding, drifting, yet passionate."

"I doubt very much you know how we make love," Paris muttered under her breath.

Miss Patty just smirked. "Oh, just because I enjoy my admirers in the form of gentlemen, you think I have no experience with the distaff side? It was Cairo, 1965, and I was studying raqs sharqi with this bedlah who had -"

"Miss Patty!" Rory cried, horrified.

---

"Luke?" Rory asked hesitantly, as she knocked on his apartment door. "Could we, could we talk?"

"Rory? Of course, what's up?" he asked her, gesturing her inside to his dining table.

"Well, with this whole wedding thing going on," Rory explained as she stepped in and sat down. "I've got most of the important roles figured out. But there's still one big one I need help with."

"Oh? I gotta warn you, if you're hoping Paul Anka will be part of the ceremony, I will not be the one to escort him."

Rory chuckled. "No, that's not the role I need help with."

She took a deep breath and blurted out her request. "Luke, will you walk me down the aisle?"

"What?" he asked, sure he hadn't heard her right.

"I mean," she started. "I know its a bit sexist and misogynistic, and just downright superfluous and silly when it's a lesbian wedding, because it completely invalidates the entire patriarchal concept that a girl needs a man to -"

"No," Luke said, cutting her off. "I know what you're asking me to do, what giving you away means, but... why me? Don't you want your dad there? Christopher? Why me?"

"Because," Rory stated simply. "You moved my mattress into my dorm and out of my dorm and back into my dorm."

"Wha-"

"You were there when I graduated college. You were there when I had chicken pox and would only eat mashed potatoes for a week."

"Wait, is this that - that speech i gave?" Luke asked, horrified but blushing at Rory's praise. "Were you listening in?"

"No, we snuck out the back way already-"

"Your mother," Luke groaned, sitting back in his chair. "She told you what I said."

"There may have been dramatic reenactments," Rory confided in him. "With sock puppets. Now, where was I? Because you were the one who made me coffee cake and blew up balloons and wrote on them in marker for my birthday."

"Okay, I get the point," Luke said, his cheeks clearly flushed. "Geez, I can't believe Lorelai told you all that."

"You should know better by now, Luke, we tell each other everything," Rory explained. "But you were right before. I want my dad to walk me down the aisle. Not my father, Christopher. My dad. You."

"I'm not exactly your dad yet," Luke said, his voice choking up, and Rory only shrugged.

"Sure, you are," she said. "It doesn't matter if you and mom get married today, or ten years from now, or never. You're my dad. You're who I want to be giving me away."

She paused for a moment, hesitating, chewing her lip, before continuing.

"And for what it's worth? Mom said she never loved you as much as listening to you give that speech. Hearing you be so proud to be my dad, standing up to Christopher for me. I know it's not my place, but, I know things have been difficult between you two because of this whole April thing. But being a good dad, mom doesn't hate that. She would love to be in the loop more, sure. But she's got to be proud of you for being a good dad for April. So maybe let her in a little more."

Luke was too overwhelmed with emotion and could only nod. They sat there in the slightly awkward silence for a few moments before Luke cleared his throat. "So, how does this work? Who's giving Paris away? Is anyone giving her away?"

"Yeah," Rory explained. "Her nanny."

"Her ... nanny? You mean her grandma?"

"No," Rory shook her head. "I mean her nanny. The woman her parents hired to look after her after school."

"Is ... that a rich people thing?" Luke asked, confused.

Rory shook her head, then paused and nodded.

"Having a nanny is a rich person thing. Having her walk you down the aisle is a 'my parents fled to a country with no extradition treaty and left me destitute' thing."

"Ahhhhhh."

---

"Jess!" Rory exclaimed, dropping her shopping bag to the sidewalk and running the five steps to meet him in a fierce hug. "What are you doing back in town? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Just passing through, visiting my mom," he explained, gesturing to a nearby bench. At Rory's nod of agreement, he started walking towards it, picking up her bag along the way. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, wow," Rory shook her head as she sat down. "There's been rather a lot. Actually, your timing is kind of perfect?"

"Oh? How so?"

"Well ... you see, I'm kind of getting married this weekend?" Rory started to explain, eager to share her good fortune with her friend, but then grew hesitant, as the enormity of their history flooded back into her brain.

"You're ... getting married?!" Jess' temper grew and exploded. "To who, that rich jerk?"

"What? She's no- oh. Umm," Rory hesitated. "You mean Logan, don't you? Yeah, he and I aren't together. And ... you're right. He is a jerk."

Jess' eyebrows drew together. "Did he - hurt you?"

Rory looked at him, confused, then her eyes grew wide. "No! I mean, yes, but - emotionally, yes. Physically, no. He only cheated on me. With an entire bridal party."

"Only," Jess snorted, and Rory couldn't help but chuckle, and bumped his shoulder with hers. "So, if he's not the lucky guy, who is? Oh god, please tell me it's not Dean."

"Well," Rory extemporized. "You know, he does just look so easy on the - oh, relax, Jess. It's not Dean. It's actually, umm, someone you've met. Paris?"

"Paris? Is that the guy that-" Jess cut himself off with a sudden sense of understanding. "Wait. You mean Paris, your friend, roommate, the girl, girl Paris?"

"That would indeed be the Paris we're talking about, and not, say, the guy who stole Helen away and was why the topless towers of Ilium got burned."

"You mean -" Jess paused, processing the news. "You know? Strangely, this actually makes me feel a little better."

"It does?" Rory scrunched her nose up in confusion.

"Well, yeah," Jess started to explain. "I - maybe I'm delusional, but I guess. I always thought we weren't finished? That maybe, someday down the line, there'd be another chance for us. You felt right, in a way that no one else ever has. I mean, I've tried dating since I left Stars Hollow, and no one ever really measured up to the bar that you set."

Rory smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his hand comfortingly.

"So, the idea that you found someone else, were getting married," Jess waved his hand expansively. "It kind of made me feel like I blew things, you know? That if I had just stuck around, then maybe you wouldn't have met whoever it was, that we would've wound up together like it felt like we were meant to. But, well, if Paris is who you're marrying ... well, that's something that I can't really give you."

"And wouldn't want to, either?" Rory asked him, and he snorted.

"Yeah," Jess nodded his head. "Losing out on the chance to be with you to that rich jerk, Logan, or to Dean, that would've hurt. But if it turns out that you were really looking for love in all the wrong places, well, then the reason we never worked out isn't because I wasn't the one, or because I blew up my chance with you by having my world fall apart. You can't really help what the heart wants, you know?"

Rory nodded again.

"So, yeah, learning you're a lesbian?" Jess shrugged. "Doesn't really hurt. Makes me feel a little better if anything. And it helps that Paris has pretty decent opinions on literature, even if she was wrong about the Beats. Kind of feels like if I was a girl, I might be a little like her?"

Rory was about to giggle, when something he said caused her to tilt her head. "You know ... that might actually solve a problem. If you're willing to be Jessie instead of Jess for a day."

"What?" Jess asked, sitting up straight in alarm.

"Oh, not like," Rory rolled her eyes. "So, Paris decided to invite our old roommates as well as Madeline and Louise as her bridesmaids, and I only have mom and Lane. It's alright if we're unbalanced by one, but, having her side be twice as many people as mine will cause all sorts of issues. So, you willing to be a bridesmaid? Or, bridesman, I guess?"

"So, is this an ex thing? Are you inviting Dean too?"

"No," Rory shook her head.

"Because he's too manly to be a bridesmaid, bridesman, whatever?"

"No," Rory shook her head again. "You're plenty manly, Jess. Too manly for me, remember? No, I wouldn't ask Dean to stand up there next to me, because I don't really care. He's in my past. I don't regret us being together, but he and I are over. I don't really want or need him in my life. But you? You were right, in a way? I think we still have unfinished business. Not as lovers, but, friends? I still want you here, in my life, in my corner. Besides ... when my mom and Luke get married, we'll be cousins, right? You're family, Jess."

She paused, taking a breath, and squeezed his hand again. "So, what do you say? I can promise you between two and four single rich girls who will be eager to dance and possibly hook up with the only man in the entire bridal party."

"Well, why didn't you lead with that? Rumor has it that I'm too manly for Rory Gilmore, maybe between two to four rich girls will be enough to be able to handle me."

---

It had been yet another long, stressful day of running around her hometown and trying to get everything planned and set for her wedding. Rory finally settled in back at wedding headquarters, also known as her kitchen table.

"Oh, that reminds me," Lorelai said, as she shifted the seating chart off of her chair so she could sit down. "We need to adjust the seating chart again, Babette RSVP'd with 3 people."

"Three?" Rory asked her mother, who simply nodded as her mouth was full of chow mein. "Who in the world could Babette and Morey be bringing along?"

Lorelai shrugged, and it was only then that Rory noticed Paris breaking the tip of the pencil she was holding clean off.

"We need to change the seating chart?" she said, her voice clearly stressed to the breaking point. "Again? We just finalized it, we had everything perfect."

"Really, Paris, it's okay," Lorelai tried to reassure her, but Paris, however, was having none of it.

"Excuse me," she said, and stood up, racing out of the kitchen. A moment later, the two Gilmores heard the front door slam.

"I'll go get her," Rory said, standing up. "Just leave some of the sesame chicken. Oh, and the broccoli in garlic sauce."

"Take all my fun, why don't you!" Lorelai called after her, as she walked to the front of the house.

"Oh, and the pot stickers, leave those too, thanks for reminding me!"

Rory started walking down the street, not sure where she was going, where Paris would go. Some impulse had her turn towards the pond, and she started making her way there. It was as good a place to start searching as any, and she had to start somewhere.

It was a warm summer night, the kind where the heat of the day still hadn't dissipated despite the sun being down, which Rory was grateful for, as she kept searching.

Finally, circling around the far side of the pond, Rory spotted a familiar tight bun and braid of blonde hair sitting by the stream feeding the lake, well off the path and away from anyone casually walking past at this time of night.

Rory walked over slowly, and sat down on the grass next to Paris, silent for a moment, as she stared out at the gentle stream flowing past them. Finally, after a long moment of silence, where the noise of the meeting had faded from her ears, Rory leaned over and bumped Paris' shoulder.

"Hey."

Paris hesitated, before nodding her head back.

"You must think I'm some kind of freak," Paris said, her voice wobbling the way it did when she got upset, and Rory could think of nothing other than comforting her. "It's not too late to back out of this, you know. I bet divorce is looking pretty good compared to spending the rest of your life with a girl who freaks out at wedding planning and has to run off into the woods because things aren't going exactly according to plan."

"Well, it would have to be a pretty amazing alternative to have a chance of holding a candle to spending the rest of my life with you," Rory said. She reached her hand out, blindly, finding Paris' in the dark and squeezing it. "Do you want to tell me why this particular freakout, though? Maybe I can help. That's what that whole wifely duties thing is about, right, for better or worse?"

"I just," Paris started before pausing, staring blankly out at the sluggish stream. "I wanted everything to be perfect. I had a whole plan of how to make it all perfect for you, for us, and everything keeps changing and people keep showing up and insisting they should help us. I was going to give you the perfect wedding. Our first wedding was a joke, literally. Even if we could remember what happened that night, no one was there and it was the tackiest, chintziest ceremony I've ever seen, and nothing about it was right. I wanted to give you the perfect wedding so you'd have something to be happy about, to remember, that you wouldn't feel ashamed to talk about in ten years."

"Paris," Rory said, her heart breaking for her. "I don't need you to give me the perfect wedding. I mean, I want a really nice wedding, but the most important thing to me is that you are there, and we're together, and all our friends and family are there. In ten years, I'm going to remember dancing with you, and saying our vows, and chatting with our friends, and cutting the cake, I'm not going to remember what our signature cocktail was or what the exact composition of the centerpieces was."

"I guess I just don't handle chaos and stress well," Paris said. "It seems like the plan is changing every five minutes as more people get involved."

"Well, that's just Stars Hollow," Rory shrugged. "It's wild and crazy and nothing ever goes according to plan and we always have to scramble at the last minute to fix things, and everyone is more eccentric than Howard Hughes, and it's a wacky and zany town, but, in the end? Everything always kind of works out. And everyone always comes together to support each other when it really matters. They care about me, about us, about you, too, and they just want to help and show that."

Paris nodded slowly. "You're really okay with it not being perfect?"

"I'm really okay with our wedding getting all Stars Hollow-ed up," Rory nodded in agreement, before a thought occurred to her. "Tell you what, why don't we each pick out one thing, the most important thing, that we really do care about, and we make sure those two things go right. And then, everyone else can go full Stars Hollow on the rest of the ceremony, and the most important things will still be there. Does that sound good?"

"I guess I can work with that."

"Okay, then, Major Nelson, what's your wedding wish?" Rory said, a smile on her face. "What do you want me to blink and make happen?"

Paris bit her lip, hesitating. "Well ... I guess the most important thing to me is that ..."

"Yeah?"

"Our first wedding," Paris continued slowly. "Was very Christian. The whole chapel and Elvis wearing a clerical collar and crosses and a very Christian ceremony? I want something that reflects my heritage. I want a Jewish ceremony. Or, at least, a little bit? I'm willing to have something that reflects both of our upbringings, but I want something there that reflects my religion."

"Okay," Rory nodded. "Obviously I need to do some reading and studying up, to be a better wife for you, but, what form would that take for this ceremony?"

"Well, I guess the most important thing would be if we had a chuppah?"

"A chuppah," Rory said, in stunned disbelief.

"Yeah, it's like -"

"I know what a chuppah is," Rory said, slowly. "That's really the most important thing to you?"

At Paris' nod, Rory twisted on the ground and dug out her cell phone.

"Hey mom," she said, pausing between every sentence as her mother spoke. "No, we're fine. Listen, you know how we weren't sure what the whole 'something borrowed' should be? I know what Paris and I are borrowing. Yup, it's out in our backyard right now."

Rory squeezed Paris' hand again, relaxing against her, glad to be able to do this one thing for her. It was a perfect summer night, warm enough that even in Connecticut they didn't need sweaters, and Rory's mind started to drift to what she and Paris had been talking about, ten years in the future.

Rory had given up on planning what her future would look like at some point. The plans she had made as a small child had changed drastically when she became a slightly older child, and those plans had, in turn, drastically changed again. Yale, instead of Harvard. Her grandparents, some of the most important people in her life, who hadn't been present at all, previously. Her mom with Luke, and not Christopher like she had thought would happen as a kid.

And now, Paris.

Rory smiled as she leaned against her wife, eager to make plans for the future once more.