AN: Really appreciating the reviews :)
"Hey! You busy?" Paris asked Rory, calling her as she was rummaging her closet for what to wear to her date. Her closet really contained no options that were bad on her - the question really was what message she was conveying. And besides - Vikki had already seen her at work, both in her array of power suits, skirts, dresses and pants-suits, and also on an outing with her kids and at home after work. She wasn't really sure how to do this with a woman - would one aim for the same 'wow' effects triggers as she would with a man?
"Just give me a sec," Rory said, as she was finishing changing Emma's bodysuit that had gotten some pumpkin stains on it during lunch, speaking into her earphone mic, having just been listening to a podcast on mental health related non-fiction, wanting to know what was happening in the field she was jumping into with Jess' book.
Rory snapped the bodysuit together, and blew a breath of hot air onto the girl's round stomach making Emma giggle, smiling back at her. The girls were growing fast. She lifted the baby onto her hip and moved swiftly from the bathroom up a flight of stairs back to the recreation room and handed the baby off to Logan who had been browsing a newspaper while keeping an eye on the others. They exchanged a brief look, Rory sensing their unspoken issues in the air. Neither had really felt like opening up the issue that had started off their New Year with, but they knew that there were things needing to be resolved, preferably before Logan left again. The problem was that neither knew what the resolution could possibly be - they were just mulling over the aftermath and the hurt - without seeing a solution.
The eye contact was hesitant, the tension too awkward to linger, and the moment she handed Emma over to him, she turned and said, "Paris, I'm all yours," this way also letting Logan know what she was up to and shut herself into her study on the same floor. She couldn't help feeling relieved at the same time, frankly prefering to do a lot of things besides being in the same room with Logan, almost begging for his forgiveness while she didn't herself believe she'd done anything really wrong.
"Good," Paris sighed in a shaky voice, as if it was her right to get to speak to her. It didn't matter that they hadn't really spoken about the holidays, exchanged holiday wishes or anything of the kind - that just wasn't Paris, and Rory knew better than to expect things like that from their relationship. What they still had was an unconditional shoulder to cry on and ask for advice in anything that concerned their lives, and while the relationship was perhaps not as intimate as perhaps what Rory had with Celeste, it was there through thick and thin even if sometimes a little forgotten.
Rory sat down at her desk, facing the townhouse across the street observing the life that could be seen through its illuminated windows and curtains. It looked like someone was having an argument. The old desk chair she'd brought over from their penthouse squeaked as she leaned back and not wanting to face the argument across the street, hitting a little too close to home right now, swirled the chair around, and looked casually at the poster of Celeste's book that hung on the wall portraying a beautiful female form floating in a pool.
"You sound…," Rory began, unsure what she was hearing in Paris' tone. She hadn't heard that tone since college. "...nervous?" she guessed.
"Tell me something I don't know," Paris snorted.
"Hot date?" Rory guessed, realizing it was Friday evening at 6.15.
"Definitely hot, but not the Sam-Heugan-esque way you're probably picturing," Paris replied, while holding up various blouses one by one in front of her. She hadn't really thought about the coming out part of this concerning Rory, but she now realized that was also going to be a part of this phone call. But she hated when people made a big deal of it, hence she wanted to slip it in as casually as possible.
"So what are we talking here - newer edition of Doyle?" Rory asked, wrinkling her nose, struggling to imagine it. Paris' taste in men had always been a bit of an enigma to her - it had always been about more than just the looks with her, or even anything but the looks unless they were gross like Paris put it.
"Oh please...," Paris let out a disgusted groan. She let out a deep sigh. "It's a woman, okay? Just get all your comments out of the way, will you…? I'm not dealing with the labels yet - poly, bi...whatever, fluid, ambiguous - take your pick," she replied a little defensively, not really caring too much about what she thought. "Maybe it's just my desperateness having reached that point in life," Paris added, gesturing with her hands at her empty bedroom.
"Good for you!?" Rory replied a little hesitantly, unsure what sort of response Paris was really expecting from her.
"So what do I wear? It's like a whole new version of the Monopoly and someone forgot to include instructions," Paris asked bluntly, wanting to move past from her revelation.
For a brief moment Rory thought back to their abrupt and awkward kiss at spring break years ago, wondering if it had in fact meant something more to Paris back then, but dismissed the thought the next second - there was no point on dwelling on it either way. They were past that, and clearly just because one was a woman didn't mean that one was attracted to all of them in that way.
"Where are you going?" Rory asked, trying to remain constructive.
"I've booked three places - I haven't decided yet. We've got Feng Chophouse, Salute and Bricco?" Paris listed, continuing to pace around her bedroom, throwing outfits onto her bed to pick from.
"Bricco's is the new italian place, right?" Rory checked, having not been there before.
"Yeah, it's gotten decent reviews but on the pictures the place looked a little dingy," Pairs commented.
"That's a no, then," Rory made it easier for her, knowing also about her dietary preferences. She was very aware of Paris' nervousness or she would never be suggesting stuff like that normally.
"Alright - Feng is a little fancier, Salute more casual - so try to dress something that's sort of in between those two and choose based on how she's dressed on the go - if she's all dressed to the nines then Feng, so she doesn't feel out of place," Rory suggested.
"So what does 'in between' mean?" Paris groaned. These things had never seemed natural to her, and the only thing she'd really gotten better at with time was googling, but that too was a slippery slope.
"Okay, what would you normally wear to a date?" Rory inquired.
"What date? I haven't dated - I've hooked up, had coffee - those dress codes don't really apply here," Paris huffed, almost expecting Rory to know these things.
"What about that emerald velvet dress you had - semi transparent patterned long sleeves?" Rory recalled seeing something on her at a Christmas party one year.
"That's definitely more Feng Chophouse than Salute," Paris recalled, beginning to look for the dress in question.
"Then that's your answer. And if she shows up more casual then you take the hit and take her to the more casual place so she wouldn't feel bad," Rory advised. It still sounded strange to her to be giving advice about a 'her' to Paris.
Paris perused her closet, eventually unzipping the garment bag that held the dress. It was definitely perfect for this time of the year, and it kind of made sense considering Vikki had seen her in almost anything more casual or work-related. This was definitely showing another side of her - someone who actually had fun on occasion, more sexy and feminine too than the ice queen look she wore to work.
"Hair - soft or sleek?" Paris asked, knowing it was best not to ponder any more about the dress, deciding to trust Rory on this.
"Soft, definitely. You want to show her you, not ward her off," Rory reminded her.
"Right," Paris sighed. "Thanks," she added.
Rory could hear a cry from the recreation room, which alerted her. It sounded like Finny. And while she could also hear Logan already dealing with it, she also knew when it came to soothing him, her presence usually worked best with Finny.
"I hear you have your hands full there, so I won't keep you," Paris made it easy for her, feeling a little relieved that she hadn't needed to explain to Rory who she was seeing. She was pretty sure Rory would've said at least something, made her feel guilty or weird about it. But she'd decided to ignore it, play oblivious unless faced with the awkwardness out front, having convinced herself that it didn't matter. At least that was what she deeply hoped would be the case.
"Good luck!" Rory said, and disconnected the call after a few quick 'bye-s' and exited the room.
Rory spent the evening on the couch, Finny attached to her like a baby koala - having bumped his head. Rory observed Logan with the twins and watched the Secret Life of Pets that was on in passing, knowing Finny liked to look at puppies. But still the silence lingered - the kids providing an excuse for not addressing things with Logan. She had already apologized, but it wasn't going to undo anything. And she didn't want to apologize again, frankly - she'd done what she'd thought was right, for the sake of the greater good - she didn't want to apologize for wanting Logan home more. She didn't want to apologize for trying to do what she felt was for his sake. Maybe he didn't want to be home? Maybe his priorities were elsewhere?
At some point, just a little before the kid's bedtime, Rory's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elevator heading upstairs. She knew what that meant - G was back. And while she knew G would probably come back down to look for her, she just couldn't wait to get out of the room where Logan was fast enough, and pushed the elevator button, taking Finny with her, to go see G.
"Hey," Rory said, seeing G's apartment door ajar, the lonely floor lamp illuminating the dark green room.
Without a word G wrapped her arms around her and Finny, whispering to her neck, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay - you're home. I'm here," Rory said. With so many things happening around Rory in her life, it was almost easy to dismiss dealing with the hard stuff.
Paris was picking Vikki up at her place, the address being stuck in her head since the first time she'd said it. The place was a fairly nondescript modern grey-shingle house with white shutters and detailing. She already knew it was a three-bedroom, decent size for just Vikki and her son. She also knew a fair amount about the issues that she had with the house, the two of them having had lunch on at least half the days since they'd met and covered a lot of ground come to think of it.
She texted her as she arrived, and somewhat hesitating what the protocol was, got out of the car and headed for the door. She'd looked online on how these things worked - homework she could do - but she had to admit, she was still feeling very much like driving blind.
Paris didn't even reach the door when she saw Vikki appear on the doorway, dressed in a cap-sleeved little black dress, with black sheer cleavage and a black collar on top. She wasn't sure, but to her it looked like it was vintage. She wore sheer black tights and black block-heeled combat boots, it's red laces adding a nice accent. She definitely had a bit of a glamorous Sin City feel to her, and Paris had seen this before on her - definitely not an unattractive look, quite the contrary.
Paris wasn't used to complimenting her date - one usually left that part to the man, or simply noted in passing that one looked good. But here it just felt weird.
"Hey?" Vikki said, seeing her hesitate. "You change your mind or something?" she asked seeing her hesitance, raising her eyebrow, but she was clearly joking.
"Hey, no..." Paris said, feeling like she needed to clear her voice. Her throat was feeling a little dry to be honest.
"Come in, I'll be just a minute," Vikki suggested, walking off towards the kitchen with a little tilt to her hip as she walked. The house, sleek and safe, painted and furnished in grey and white compared to how she looked, seemed like it must've belonged to a completely different person, but Paris figured this was what she had meant by having to move in fast.
Paris watched her pack her wristlet with the essentials, her whole wallet not fitting into it.
"Listen, I actually need you to sign something before we go," Paris then said, pulling a piece of rolled up paper out of her coat pocket. She hated to do this - but she was a business owner first and foremost and she was never one to be known to be sloppy. She'd just figured if she hadn't anticipated this or was somehow offended by it or thought it was premature, she hadn't really known her to begin with, so she just let her person shine through and handed her the Consensual Relationship Agreement that covered most of their work related issues, among other things considering who would make work-related decisions that concerned Vikki.
Vikki slipped through its pages swiftly but seemed to actually read it, smiling with some amusement, then glancing at the, clearly nervous, Paris in front of her, stepping from foot to foot almost without noticing it and fidgeting with her car key.
"I know it's awkward..," Paris began apologetically.
"You're very cute when you're nervous, you know that?" Vikki noted, and swiftly grabbed a pen from the hallway drawer and signed it.
Paris could feel her cheeks getting hot, probably blushing but she was glad she couldn't see it at that point.
"But I'm just telling you that you don't need to be - I don't bite," Vikki said, handing her the pages back and before she could think a single other thought her lips were on hers. It was no innocent peck on the closed mouth, but a deep French kiss, making Paris for a second or two forget where she was. It took Paris a moment to really respond - it was not what she'd expected at all - definitely softer, more gentle, yet somehow still demanding and sensual.
"You coming?" Vikki asked, with a smug and teasing smile, as the kiss broke and she pulled on her coat and grabbed the door handle in the moments that seemed like a split second to Paris.
Staying at a romantic suite by the Sydney Harbour Bridge really wasn't half as much fun when one was all by himself. But Finn had decided to try to make the best of it nonetheless, hence on the final evening before his departure he found himself lingering in a bathtub full of cool water, the balcony doors wide open letting the warm summer evening flow inside, with a glass of Sullivan's Cove French Oak Whisky, watching the boats ride by, almost feeling like being back on the catamaran (minus the bathtub). But despite enjoying some of the me-time he hadn't had in a while, the lack of Charlie's presence still stung.
It was then Finn's phone rang, playing Joe Anderson and Jim Sturgess' 'With a little help from my friends' as the ringtone. He knew this meant either Logan, Colin or Robert, the former sounding the most probable at this point.
"There we go, I was wondering when you'd call back," Finn answered the phone, greeting his friend loudly, without shame showing himself lounging in a bathtub.
"Hey!" Logan said, calling him on video chat. Logan had gone for a jog that morning, despite the icy weather outside. He had stuck to busier streets, and brought as few valuables as he could - that's what he did these days. As he spoke he'd paused briefly at Jackson Square park, wanting to be out of the house when he called him. It wasn't ideal talking like this, knowing that without moving it'd feel cold pretty soon, having nearly finished his round already.
"So what's up?" Finn asked, setting the whiskey glass aside, having gotten the feeling that something was on his friend's mind. The chilly weather he was witnessing at the background, made him cringe inside, definitely not something he was eager to go back to the next day.
"Where are you, man?" Logan asked, feeling somewhat confused by Finn's background. Sure he'd seen the guy topless before - sunbathing or swimming or whatever, but this really seemed like something a little more intimate than that.
Finn rotated the phone around the room, showing off his lodgings, getting the bathtub into a better view as well.
"You're talking to me from a bathtub. Really man?" Logan exclaimed, raising his eyebrows. Disbelief wouldn't have been the right word - there was anything one could expect from Finn.
"You want me to come out, because I can come out," Finn threatened to flash him, beginning to rise.
"No, no… that's quite alright," Logan laughed, looking away for a second. This was good old Finn, alright.
"Ah, I'm getting wrinkly anyways," Finn said, then nearly flashed him anyways, climbing out of the tub and casually wrapped a towel around himself, before stepping out onto the balcony and positioned himself in one of the recliners instead, and threw his feet up on the coffee table.
"Better?" Finn asked. "Never figured you as this much of a prude," he added laughingly.
Logan simply chuckled - having really missed his friend and was sad to miss him again before going back to London. "Much, thank you," Logan said.
"So what's up?" Finn asked again. There'd be other times to talk about him, about Charlie and their living arrangements.
"Rory asked Mitchum to train Owen for me. She didn't consult me, she nearly didn't tell me she'd spoken to him at all. I know she wants me home and god, I want to be home… but it just feels so… ," Logan tried to express his emotions.
"...collaborating with the Dark Lord," Finn finished his thought.
"It's like for a minute there I felt like I didn't know her at all," Logan sighed, wiping some sweat, now cold, off his face.
"It's still Rory - she's not going to change 180 on you. She's probably just worried about you. She probably figured you wouldn't ask him yourself…," Finn attempted to get into Rory's brain.
"But it's like - whose side is she on? Next she'll want to involve herself in the business - she already said she wanted to - something about working with Owen, and what - next I lose control of all of it?" Logan blabbered, not making fully sense at that point. She didn't want to admit it, but he was still jealous too and he was very keen on being the one in charge - that just was who he was. He sensed Rory had something, some connection, with Owen, even if it was brief and mostly irrelevant these days, but what it felt like was that it was something that they no longer had.
"Then why don't you want to work with her? She clearly just wants you home, so you'd have more free time - that free time can be used for a number of things, right - not just spending it on adult naptime," Finn shrugged.
Logan groaned, not quite understanding his thoughts himself, and ran his palm over his face and neck.
"You like having her at home, don't you?" Finn suggested.
Logan shook his head not wanting to say it out loud. "So what if I do..," he shrugged, trying to defend that thought process to himself. It was primal - it was everything he'd fought against for all these years, but he just couldn't help it. There was nothing better than knowing that she was home with their children. That everything was taken care of, that she was waiting for him, that she would be there for him when he got back. He knew it was unfair on so many levels - he could never ask of this from her knowing what she was like. Sure he got it - him being home was significantly better than being away across the Atlantic, but with feeling like she was in cahoots with Owen and Mitchum - he was simply feeling like if he didn't want her to work, they would, or at least Owen, leaving Rory with loads of options to switch the roles around if she wanted to. Sure, he'd bought time by Rory wanting to stay home with the kids a little longer herself but just… with Rory mentioning she wanted to consider the HPG as a career option, had stirred something in him in a way he hadn't expected. Logan spent the next ten minutes explaining his thoughts to Finn, also explaining some of his jealousy. And he did know it was ridiculous to anyone with a clear head - Owen was married too.
"I don't know what to say to her - she knows I'm jealous, she knows I feel betrayed, she knows I know that she meant to make it happen that I would be home more. But I can't tell her I want her home like this - you know what she's like. She'll do it just out of spite and stubbornness if I say anything. And how do I even know she won't go to Mitchum with every little thing from now on? God, I feel like she's turning into my mother…," Logan groaned, knowing damn well that that last sentence was never to cross his lips in Rory's presence. But these were the emotions he was feeling. It felt like his family deciding his direction, like a mutiny on the boat he was steering.
"Do you want my honest answer or the kind that you actually want to hear?" Finn asked, now leaning his elbows onto his knees.
Logan groaned, leaving it up to Finn to decide.
"You've got to stop thinking about it - you're getting way ahead of what actually happened. You just need to tell her that you're hurt, but you understand. You need to do it because this is something you can't just leave loitering on for however long you're gone - that'd just mean two people winding themselves up and then you'll have a real issue in your hand. You know you're not going to have that discussion over the phone while you're away. And whatever else you're feeling - it's not really relevant as it's not really based on any facts, just your mind running amock. You deal with it there, today. Rory is not out to get you or trick you - trust me, I know her too," Finn assured. "And if those other things are still there after you've had a chance to cool off then go to therapy if that helps - just nip it for now, okay?" Finn suggested.