Chapter Text
It’s to a chilly, grey and very much gloomy October’s morning that Paris wakes up to, today.
The sky is of that white-ish depressing shade that holds no promises but either a good old rainstorm or a steady, annoying drizzle. Predictable weather, to be fair, a mere week away from the end of the month which doesn’t make it any less bearable, however.
That can all wait for the time being, though, because Paris has woken up next to a very much still asleep and softly snoring Rory, clad in panties and a tank top only. Which is highly ranked in Paris’ favorite Rory’s outfit -top seven, actually, along with yoga pants/loose tanks, the cerulean summer dress and those killer high-waisted tight dark jeans, to name a few- so, naturally, the woman feels compelled to welcome her wife into this brand new day in the best way she knows.
“Okay, wow,” Rory pants, still coming down from her high, “this, sure isn’t how I expected a boring Friday to start.”
“Well,” Paris replies, one arm slipping around Rory’s waist as she gets impossibly closer so that she can place soft, warm kisses along the woman’s neck and jaw, “I thought you could use some encouragement to face the long day ahead.”
“Always the selfless and thoughtful, aren’t you?”
Smirking, the blonde whispers, “Something like that.”
“Okay, Mother Theresa,” Rory slowly starts moving, after a few, comfortable quiet minutes, “time to officially get up.”
“-n’t want to.”
“Come on, grumpy pants,” a soft voice replies as familiar, gentle lips leave a wet track on Paris’ exposed back, “I’ll make us coffee.”
“You’re not really making a good point here, Gilmore.”
“It’s Geller-Gilmore, to you.”
“Eh,” Paris shots back, finally getting up from the mattress to find more suitable clothes than her now-ruined panties, “I admit it does have a nice ring to it.”
“Come on, love,” Rory commands as she pads towards the door, “copper boom!”
After putting on some flannel pjs pants and the all-time-favorite Yale hoodie -which might have once belonged to her wife, before Paris silently claimed it as her own- the blonde makes her way to the hallway where, bless Rory, the scent of fresh coffee is already making its way.
Breakfast will have to wait a little longer, though, Paris acknowledges while walking towards the second room to the left, the closest to the living area.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Paris whispers as she gently starts stroking her daughter’s hair and cheek, “time to wake up, Lily.”
Genetics truly is a wonder because, not only their baby girl has inherited Rory’s beautiful eyes but the woman’s morning grumpiness as well. Which, on a toddler is just that much more adorable.
Well, she apparently has inherited all of that and Mama’s stubbornness, too.
“No.”
“Lily, we have to get ready so you can go to preschool and see all of your friends,” Paris reminds the child in that special soft tone that only Lily and Rory have ever been lucky enough to hear.
“Mama, no.”
Ah, the terrible years.
“And, remember, we’re driving down to visit Grandma and Grandpa, later,” Paris adds, knowing well how powerful that piece of information will be, “don’t you wanna come with us, baby?”
Gracelessly pushing herself up on her feet and extending her arms to be held, Lily yells her very excited approval.
Time to start the day for real, now.
“Oh, look who joined me,” Rory greets her girls with a bright smile, “my two favorite girls in the whole world.”
Quickly covering the distance between them, the brunette starts placing gentle pecks all over her daughter’s face and forehead as an arm, naturally, sneaks around Paris’ back to keep
them both close.
Once the little sleepy body has been carefully moved to another set of arms, the blonde makes her way to the coffee pot for a much deserved cup. Which, unsurprisingly, she finds already set on the island, perfectly fixed just the way she’s been drinking it for years.
“Someone wasn’t very keen on getting out of bed, today,” the blonde informs her wife.
“I know,” Rory replies, “I was there.”
Gasping in offense, Paris sticks her tongue out, eliciting giggles from both girls. She does try hard to pout and act hurt but, god knows, Paris has always been too weak for her own good when it comes to Rory and Elizabeth’s addition has certainly not made life easier.
Breakfast, on this particular gloomy, autumnal Friday is a slow, cozy affair. Rory and Paris sip on their warm reinvigorating coffee while stealing berries and clementine slices from the fruit platter placed on the counter so that Lily has easy access from the highchair where she’s enjoying a bowl of oatmeal -Rory makes a mental note to make sure the toddler’s hands are well cleaned before letting her anywhere near her mothers’ hair.
This is exactly what Paris had never ever dared dream of as a teenager and, even more so, young adult. Comfortable, lazy mornings before diving into a hectic brand new day; tender kisses from lips that should taste bitter but are actually the sweetest of treats; the quiet intimacy that only two bodies and souls that have been building a life together, throughout the years, can offer.
This sense of calmness, accomplishment, happiness and, above all, love. Paris could have never imagined she would have had it all, someday.
Lorelai Leigh Gilmore took that as a challenge and truly ran with it.
Elizabeth had come along, then, shattering each and every one of Paris’ remaining insecurities and self-doubts.
A little over an hour later, Rory is kneeling down in the preschool hall, just outside Lily’s classroom -the one with the green door- and is helping her daughter out of the warm jacket and beanie while listening to the little girl’s stream of -kind of incoherent and grammatically creative- stories. And falling a little bit more in love with the precious tiny human.
“-an’ I ike Nemo best!" the girl announces, grinning widely as she looks around to spot any familiar face.
"I like Nemo too: that's a good choice, baby."
The morning, luckily, goes by smoother and quicker than expected.
Being the executive editor at the Boston Globe is a demanding job but one Rory wouldn’t trade for any other role. She’s worked her ass of for years to get where she is now, making a name for herself and earning such a prestigious position before the age of thirty-two.
When lunch break rolls around the woman decides to grab a cup of coffee and a small bite at the nearby deli.
Placed the order, Rory sits on one of the few available stools that face the crowded street through wide windows, phone in hand.
“Mom, hi,” the journalist greets in a low voice.
“Oh, beloved daughter of mine, I was growing old over here,” Lorelai replies, dramatically.
“We literally spoke last night.”
“There was a time in which you’d have died to come home and talk to me about anything and everything.”
“Then, I grew up and had a child,” Rory reminds her mother, “and life has become ten times busier.”
“Fair enough,” Lorelai concedes, “speaking of daughters- how’s mine doing?”
“Very well, thank you. Had a busy but productive morning; although, the afternoon is supposed to be true hell because an incompetent fact-checker has apparently forgotten that wikipedia is not a reliable enough source.”
“Ah, the W word! Even I know better.”
“Being the big boss sucks, mom.”
“I know kid,” Lorelai comforts her girl, “but you’re amazing at this sucky hot shot executive thing.”
“Thank you.”
“Anyways, you girls are coming down tonight, right?” the older Gilmore asks, excited.
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Rory confirms as she takes a sip from the steaming paper cup, “I’ll try to get done at work by five while Paris will pick up Lily at preschool and drive to the journal. I hope we’ll make to Stars Hollow before seven.”
“That’s wonderful,” her mother beams, “I can’t wait to squish the little bug in my arms.”
“Should I be worried you’ll try to steal my baby?”
Chuckling, Lorelai replies, “Indeed, you should, if Grandpa Lucas is gonna be around.”
After a little chat -Lily themed, mostly- it’s time for Rory to head back to the office so she bids goodbye to her mom with a promise to see them soon, drive safely and ‘yes, I’ll bring a box of cream pies’.
paris: somebody is requesting for her mommy
paris: attached image
Rory’s heart swells at the sight of her beautiful, sweet little girl securely strapped in her car seat, clad in the super cute red coat aunt Sookie had gifted them with on Lily’s birthday. The toddler’s sandy blonde hair is down and covered by a warm white beanie which, quite frankly, easily goes almost unnoticed when Mommy takes in the squeezed bright, blue so blue eyes which accompany one of those giggles that Rory knows by heart and never fail to turn her moms in a puddle of good.
“Mommy!” Lily happily squeaks as Rory opens the car door to softly place a tender kiss on the child’s forehead.
“Hi, my beautiful girl,” and then, moving to lean over the driver window, “and you, gorgeous. Hey.”
Paris greets her wife with a hand swiftly moving to cup one cheek while the other naturally takes its rightful place at the nape of Rory’s neck to pull her as close as the metal barrier in between will allow.
It’s been over a decade and still, it’s never enough.
Halfway through the ride, Paris is skillfully steering the car on the highway surrounded by complete quietness and calm, the low, soft music as only distraction. That, and her daughter's light snoring from the backseat.
That, and Rory's still, familiar hand, firmly holding her own.