"Do you ever think about it?" Rory asked, eyes still fixed on the movie they were watching, head in Paris's lap, body stretched out on their couch.

"Think about what?"

"Being a parent." Paris didn't even ask how Rory's mind got from Mission Impossible to parenthood, it was just how her mind worked, and Paris had accepted long ago that she'd never fully understand what went on inside her partner's head.

"Sometimes, fleetingly. Like when we went to Disney World and there were all these happy families and stuff," Paris answered, mostly still watching the movie, hands carding through Rory's hair.

"Oh." Rory's voice had this deflated note that she got when something was wrong but she didn't want anyone else to realize it. That's when Paris realized that she wasn't asking if she ever thought about being a parent but if she ever thought about being a parent with Rory.

"I'd like to though, you know, with you," and, as Paris said it, she knew she wasn't just saying it to pacify Rory. She really meant it. She wanted to be a mom and she wanted to have a family and she wanted it with Rory. She could imagine a little bright eyed kid with her ambition and Rory's fierce loyalty and endless optimism that babbled ceaselessly to their mama and mommy and she wanted it so badly that it ached a little now that she thought about it.

"Yeah?" Rory had turned to look at her, the movie being completely ignored by the both of them as they looked at each other, both searching the other's face to make absolutely certain that they were being serious.

"Yeah."

"Do you think we should adopt or get a sperm donor?" Rory asked one night when they were laying in bed, nearly asleep.

"What?" Paris had been nearly asleep, all blissed out and sleepy from the sex they'd had not ten minutes previously.

"Do you think we're too old to carry a baby? Does one of us even want to get pregnant? Should we just adopt? Do we adopt a newborn or a toddler?" Rory was babbling now, something she did when she was tired or nervous and right now she was both. Paris needed to say something to pull her off track and back to her.

"Is this your idea of pillow talk, Gilmore? Because it leaves something to be desired." That did the trick, pulling Rory from her anxious mind and babbling mouth and into reality. It also caused her to smack Paris with a pillow, but it was worth it.

They laid together for a few moments after the pillowing throwing fiasco, Rory's head next to Paris's on the pillow, her arm thrown over Paris's middle, and their legs tangled together, before Rory spoke again, albeit much less quickly this time, "Really though, how to we go about getting a baby?"

"Getting a baby?" Paris was trying really hard not to laugh, but the way Rory phrased it- 'Getting a baby,' like it was a piece of furniture or something- was making it really hard, and she didn't quite succeed.

"Oh, hush, you. You know what I meant." Rory was giggling too, though.

"I think we could do either. We're only 28, so pretty much all our eggs are viable. Or we could adopt. Whatever you want to do, Ror."

"I think. I think I maybe want to use a sperm donor."

"Yeah?" Paris was perfectly fine with that, even she wound up being the pregnant one, despite the horrors of pregnancy like morning sickness, cravings, and giant ankles.

"Yeah," Rory sounded so sleepy when she said it, and Paris pulled her tighter against her, moving into their normal sleeping position, Rory with her head on Paris's chest and her arms around Paris's waist, legs tangled together.

"We can talk about it more later. Let's go to sleep, Ror."

"M'kay, Par."

"Do we want an anonymous sperm donor or someone we know?" They were in the car on the way to Stars Hollow to see Rory's mom and Luke for the weekend.

"We can do either, but a full health and genetic screening is a must either way," Paris said without taking her eyes off of the interstate. This question was easier for Paris since it was logical and dealt with the sorts of things she dealt with in her line of work and not as much of an emotional kind of question.

"Right, but would it be weird for half of our child's genetics to come from a stranger or would it be weirder to have it come from someone we know?" Of course, with Rory, everything was an emotional question.

"I think that, regardless of where half of our kid's genetics come from, they'll be 100% our kid and they'll have a loving family, me and you and your mom and Luke and Richard and Emily, and where their eye color or nose shape comes from won't matter."

"You're right."

"I usually am," Paris's voice was filled with mirth and she was smiling. God, she loved Rory and their life.

"You know what I meant, you goofball."

There was a comfortable silence between them after that, filled with the sounds of the car driving down the interstate at a speed slightly above the speed limit since Paris was driving and some top 40 song playing on the radio, before Rory spoke again. "I think maybe we should use someone anonymous. I just don't know if I want to see someone other than the two of us in our kid."

"Okay. I'll make some calls and get some information on it when we get to your mom's."

"God, I can't wait to have a family with you." Rory was wearing that huge grin on her face, the one she got sometimes that made Paris fall in love with her all over, and Paris didn't have to look at her to know it was there, since she could hear it in her voice.

"Do you think I would look good pregnant?" Rory asked while they were grocery shopping as she was trying to decide between Captain Crunch and Froot Loops.

"What?" The question tore Paris out of her granola comparison and she looked over to Rory, who, aside from the question she asked, appeared to be deeply invested in her internal cereal debate.

"I mean. One of us is going to get pregnant and I was thinking that maybe I would want to do it and I was just wondering if I would look like a beached whale." Rory decided on the Froot Loops and turned back to Paris and the shopping cart as she said it.

"You'd look gorgeous, Rory. You always do." Paris came up to Rory and wrapped an arm around her partner's waist as she said it.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Even when we were in high school and we had to wear those stupid Elizabethan outfits."

"Which was totally your idea, Geller," Rory said, breaking away from their semi-embrace and pushing the cart out of the cereal aisle and towards the deli, Paris following after her, and both of them laughing.

"Yeah, well," Paris said as she shrugged.

They were waiting by the deli counter for the meat and cheese they ordered when Paris asked Rory what she'd been thinking since she asked how she'd look pregnant. "Do you really want to carry our baby? Because you don't have to, I could if you didn't want to, you know." Paris meant it, though she'd love to see Rory glowing and pregnant with their baby.

"Yeah. Yeah, I really do." Rory was smiling when she said it, hand on her flat stomach.

"What color should we paint the nursery?" Those were the first words out of Rory's mouth when Paris walked into their new little house after work.

"Whatever color you want, love." Paris meant it, she would be happy with whatever color Rory wanted for their baby, though she knew that Rory would want her opinion and not giving at least some input, though they both knew that they'd pick whatever color Rory wanted in the end, would result in a teary response from a hormonal five month pregnant Rory.

"Will you at least flip through the paint samples with me?" Rory looked like she might cry, something she'd been prone to doing since she'd gotten pregnant, but Paris would've flipped through them with her regardless.

"Of course, just let me change out of my work outfit."

When Paris came out of their bedroom in a pair of sweatpants and one of Rory's over-sized Yale sweaters, she found her partner surrounded by what was likely over one hundred paint sample cards. "Any ideas?" She asked, flopping down on the couch next to her.

"I was thinking maybe salmon, teal, or olive." She said, holding up three different shades for Paris to look at. "Although a light yellow might be good too."

Paris took the cards from Rory and looked at them. They were all good choices. Well, all of them except the olive. It was dark and kind of depressing. "I like them all, but not really the olive. It's too dark." She didn't want to add the depressing part because she was fairly sure that Rory wouldn't take that very well.

"Yeah," Rory took the card back from Paris and held it close to her face, inspecting it, "it is too dark."

"So, that just leaves us with light yellow, salmon, or teal then?"

"Yeah." They both looked over the cards together, thinking of a little baby with Rory's dark hair and bright eyes and the perfect color for their room.

"How about the yellow?" Paris asked, holding up the card with a light yellow shade with an obnoxious name. "I mean, any kid that shares your genes is gonna have a bright personality and they need a bright colored room."

"It's perfect," Rory said, throwing the other paint samples onto the coffee table and throwing herself at Paris, hugging her, causing both of them to laugh.

"What are we going to name her?" Paris asked as Rory held their newborn daughter in her arms, looking all drowsy but completely happy.

"I don't know. Our little girl is so perfect, she needs a perfect name." Rory said as they both looked adoringly at their baby.

Paris sat down on the bed next to her partner, slipping an arm around Rory's shoulders as she spoke, "How about Emily? After your grandmother."

"Emily Athena. Emily from me and Athena from you."

"It's a perfect name, but how is Athena from me?"

"Athena is from Athens, which is a city like Paris, but Emily Paris doesn't quite have the right sound to it." Rory looked Paris when she said it, eyes holding just as much adoration for Paris as they did for Emily.

"Emily Athena. It's perfect."

"She's perfect," Rory said, laying her head on Paris's shoulder, clearly trying to fight sleep.

"Go to sleep, I'll watch over our perfect little family while you get some much needed rest." Paris said, though Rory was asleep before she'd even finished talking.

She kissed Rory on the head and looked at their perfect daughter. "Hey, sweetheart. I'm your mama and this sleeping goofball is your mommy and we love you so much." She kept her arm around her partner as she leaned forward and kissed their sleeping baby on the head as she slept against her sleeping mother's chest.