Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: I have no money and no imagination. You couldn't possibly think that I owned Gilmore Girls. And I'm not making any money out of writing this.

Author's Note: I had to get this out of my system. I know I'm going to get mixed reviews about it, and I don't really like the idea. But it struck me. And well, I had to write it. It's not that well written, either. It's like my stream of consciousness about the way the relationship would work. And I don't feel that I know Paris that well, either.

Set sometime in Rory's first year at Yale.

-.-.-.-

Watching someone sleep. It was pretty cliched, and Paris honestly wished she wasn't doing it.

'Get over it, Gellar,' she commanded herself.

Loathe as she was to admit it, she'd found herself watching her sleep before, and she'd told herself to stop it before. She had Asher, and he was more than enough, really.

But, if Paris were inclined to think that way, she might think that maybe Asher was just a rebound guy. She clicked with him intellectually, and she'd never really been one to be attracted to a guy solely for his looks (she still adamantly protested that Tristan had something else that no one else saw). Asher was there, and he was willing.

This secret crush, she'd never told anyone about it. Rory was her best friend and though it sometimes seemed as though she didn't value it, she'd be devastated if she lost that relationship. She couldn't tell anyone, especially since, though she really didn't like to think it, Rory could possibly be disgusted by it.

It was best to keep it secret, but sometimes Rory was too beautiful.

At first, Paris had merely thought her obsession came from jealousy, and an animalistic need to compete. But as she got to know Rory better over the years, she realised that she was in fact attracted to her. She loved how even though Rory knew a lot about the world, she didn't really know it, or understand it. She hadn't felt it. Hadn't experienced it. The only thing that made sense to Rory was her oddball small town.

Paris played with the idea of going with Rory to the far off places in the world, and watching as Rory grew to understand. But then Rory wouldn't be Rory. Paris suspected she'd still be infatuated with her, anyway, though.

She'd lied to Rory when she'd said that her life coach had suggested they share a dorm. It had been her idea, and her life coach had gone along with it, and encouraged it.

When she didn't get into Harvard, she'd been depressed, not only because it had been her dream for so long, but because Rory had gotten in, and it was Rory's dream as much as it was hers. But Rory was going to Yale, and there Paris would, and could, follow. It was a dream come true. A dream she hadn't had for as long as her Harvard dream, but a dream nonetheless.

Rory stirred slightly. And Paris toyed with the idea that she might be dreaming about her. She probably wasn't. She was probably dreaming about her ex-boyfriends, or Marty, or some hot movie star. Rory had probably never had even the hint of a romantic thought towards her own sex.

Rory's hair was fanned out over her pillow, and half over her face. It was a mess. It reminded Paris of Rory's first year at Chilton when the Puffs had taken them for a middle-of-the-night initiation task. She knew now that Rory must have been pre-warned about the visit. Her hair was simply too neat that night. Paris still remembered how perfect that 'newly awoken' Rory looked. Seeing her so perfect while sleep deprived and lethargic had made Rory seem more than perfect. Almost ethereal, angelic.

There was something about Rory that made you want to hug her and protect her from the rest of the big bad world. At the same time, you wanted her to hug you and protect you from the same world. Sometimes you'd want to step into her fairytale world. And you knew she'd be able to do it, she'd let you in.

Paris almost wished Rory's eyes were open at the moment, so she could stare deep into those crystal blues. But that would mean that Rory was awake, and knew that Paris was staring deep into the depths of her soul, or at least trying to. Paris wasn't able to deal with that at the moment.

For now, Paris was content only to watch as Rory's even breaths shifted her covers, and blew a few strands of hair away from her face. Content to just watch the woman she loved.

-.-.-.-

A/N: So what did you think? Whether it's good or bad, I'd really like to know.