h

Title: Call Me Yente and Die
Author: Nes
Email: spitfireness@yahoo.com
Webpage: The Monkeyworks
Spoilers: Season One
Vague Summary: Paris has an epiphany and she comes out of the Trory closet, using her powers for good.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not mine! Gilmore Girls is the property of the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino, and other people I don't know and yet are objects of my appreciation. I do own Josh and the security camera, though. There is show dialogue written by Amy Sherman-Palladino interspersed with my own. All dialogue used was taken from the transcripts available at gilmore-girls.net, God bless the transcribers for they shall inherit the earth.
Notes: I am veryvery sorry that I took so long to update this story. RL, as it tends to, interfered. I've been...weird. Damn that RL. In any case, I hope you like it and give me feedback.

***

"Do you have any fresh fruit? And tea? Non-caffeinated?"

The flannel-clan man gave Paris a second look and an approving grunt before turning to Rory. "See, this is nutrition. This girl will not have stunted growth."

Rory took it good-naturedly. "I've never met a nutrition I didn't hate. Lay a burger and fries on me, Luke. Ooh, and introduce those fries to some cheese. Cheese fries sound great."

"That does sound good, same for me," said Lane.

"Do you know what that much cholesterol will do-," Luke and Paris began to say at the same time.

Rory rolled her eyes, "She'll have a burger and cheese fries, too."

Paris protested, "My mother would kill me." She narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to kill me, Rory? You know I'm lactose intolerant."

"Okay, eighty-six the cheese for the Dairy Queen."

"My mother-"

"And my mother will give you an award."

"I'm not serving her against her will. As the owner of this establishment, I'm protecting her right to fresh fruit." Luke crossed his arms.

Lane interrupted, "Why do you have cheese fries on the menu, if you don't want anyone to eat them?"

Luke frowned.

"A ha!" Rory said in triumph, as if it proved some point.

Luke frowned deeper, before he turned back to the counter. Over his shoulder, he called, "Don't expect a refill on that coffee."

Rory smiled gleefully at Paris.

"Just don't expect me to pay for that."

Rory spread her arms wide in an expression of generosity, "It's on me."

Paris smiled back reluctantly. She found herself giving in a lot when she was around Rory and Lane. "You know you've got a real problem with peer pressure in this town."

Lane sniffed convincingly, "I don't know what you're talking about. We're perfect. You love us. Don't you love us anymore, Paris? Par-is?"

Paris shook her head in laughter, then frowned. "If by perfect, you mean voyeuristic, yes."

"Oh, that's just Taylor and Miss Patty." Lane looked at the window and across the street. "They're the center of the town gossip mill. They're millers."

"Why are they staring at me?"

"You're new. It's all very exciting." Rory explained. "Within the next two minutes, seventy-five percent of Stars Hollow will know both your shoe size and what Hollywood starlet would play you in a movie."

"Interesting," Paris said. The Stars Hollow variety of gossip was apparently less malicious than that of Hartford. Speaking of which, "So you ever get rid of those Johnny Depp fans?"

Lane leaned forward to hear better. Rory rolled her eyes, "They sat right behind us. They were like vultures or hyenas. Some kind of predatory something."

"Very technical term," Lane noted. "They didn't seem convinced you were Tristan's girlfriend. You ever clear that up for them?"

Rory gave both girls a dead stare. "Yeah, I never thanked you for that, Paris."

Paris imitated Rory's earlier gesture of open-handed generosity. "A friend in need is a friend, indeed. So did you help Tristan out with his need?"

Rory blushed but protested. "Well, I never said I was his friend, did I?"

Paris smiled gleefully. She would grant mercy to Rory and get the dirt from Tristan later. Her smile widened. There was dirt to be had! But then, of course there was. She was Paris Gellar, wasn't she? She succeeded at everything. Rory and Tristan would be kissing in a tree by the end of next week.

Lane caught her eye, and Paris mouthed, "Later."

Rory changed the subject. "So the clothes. They look good on you."

Paris smiled shyly. Lane grinned openly in triumph. "I do good work."

Rory continued innocently, "Josh will think you look hot."

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's strictly business between us. He's the editor of the Franklin this year. I can introduce you to him if you still want to be on the paper staff."

"Yes, thank you." Rory accepted but plowed on. "But I don't think he'll be giving me the same googly-eyes."

"Googly eyes can be good," Lane said.

Paris sighed. She wished they'd drop it.

"Is he cute," Lane asked.

"Very the nice guy from Sliding Doors. The one from The Mummy."

"So, he's British?"

"No," Rory said. "Adorable. Sweet. Respectably intellectual. Don't you think so, Miss Gellar."

"He's not interested in me."

"Ha. Girls can never tell when guys like them."

She had a point there, Paris had to concede. But she wasn't going to say that outloud. She was saved from answering by the arrival of the food.

"It's cooked with peanut oil, so it's not as damaging as Rory would have you believe." He put a kettle down on the table top. "Tea's raspberry. There's more of that and some apples and stuff, too." Luke said.

"Thanks," Paris said over the mound of golden and crispy french fries.

"No problem, kid. Just rub off on Rory, okay? Her mom's a-"

Rory interrupted, "What do you think, Luke? A woman can never tell when a man really likes them, right?"

Luke flustered and turned to Paris. "Whenever you're ready for that fruit."

Lane said to Rory, "That was cruel."

Rory shrugged and took a huge bite of hamburger slathered with ketchup.

"He's very paternal," Paris said.

Lane gave Rory a pointed look before giving Paris a curious one. "So are you interested? In this Josh guy?"

"He's a really nice guy," she said. "He probably has a girlfriend, anyway."

Lane grabbed onto the 'anyway' and didn't let go. "So you do like him."

"Can any human really not like another?"

"Ooh, you're evading."

"What else is there to do in this one-horse town," Paris said, unashamedly evading and daring Lane to continue.

Lane smiled smugly. But let Paris lead her away from the subject of Josh, Paris Super-Fan. "Well, we could watch Miss Patty's dance class. The second-years are doing a selection from Gypsy. Or listen to that weird guy with the guitar on the street corner. Or watch videos."

Rory nodded approvingly, "There's always videos."

***

When Paris got home, there were five messages on her answering machine. All from Tristan.

Exhausted from a night of Stars Hollow hijinx, Paris debated calling him the next day. But then she remembered the way Rory hadn't been mean or sad or anything but amused, really, when Lane and Paris had talked about how floppy Dean's hair was. And the way Rory had acted when Tristan was brought into conversation was truly a revelation. All in all, things looked good so she dialed Tristan's number.

He answered on the first ring. "DuGrey."

"Hiya, Sparky. Been waiting by the phone."

"No." Obviously, he was lying. "And Sparky?"

"I've decided it suits you."

"Did you get my messages?"

"All five of them, yes."

"Too much? Sorry."

"No, forget it. It was cute," Paris said.

"So, uh, where were you?"

"Why? Worried? Going to give me a curfew?"

"No. No, just curious. Hot date with Josh?"

"What?"

"You didn't think Rory mentioned it?"

"Yes, speaking of Rory..."

Paris couldn't tell if Tristan had taken a short moment to recap or had forgotten to breath in all the reminiscing.

"I think," Tristan ventured, "that she might be open to me, now. More than friends. A little. I think she's getting over Dean."

"Dean Shmene. He's got floppy hair."

"You've got that encouraging thing down, Paris."

"I do, don't I," she breezed. "So tell me what happened at the movies?"

"You mean when you abandoned Rory into my clutches?"

"Sure, you're the pirate king. Your clutches? There was clutching. Do tell."

"Maybe not my clutches. A gentleman never tells."

Paris snorted.

"She let me put my arm around her." Tristan said it very quickly, as if it could have been taken back.

"Clarify."

"Those girls behind us-"

"The ones undressing you with their eyes."

"Paris!"

"Aw, Poor Inexperienced Tristan. Is your infatuation making you modest?"

"Anyway. The girls behind us must have really been getting on Rory's nerves because, well, she told me to put my arm around her. Lightly, of course. Shoulder only."

"Ever so chastely," Paris agreed. "So she made the first move."

"I think she did." He lapsed back into nostalgia.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Should I do anything?"

"Of course! Ask her out!"

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Obviously, you two are perfect for one another," Paris gave Tristan a pep talk before suggesting, "I'll call Lane. She's Rory's best friend. She can give us some ideas."

Tristan agreed to hold, while Paris switched to her other line.

"Kim Residence."

"Hello, Mrs. Kim. This is Paris Gellar. We met earlier. May I speak to Lane, please?"

"It's very late."

"I wanted to ask her about her Bible Camp. If it was...too late to register."

"Hmm." Mrs. Kim put the phone down and called for Lane.

Lane picked up, "I've got it, Mama."

After Mrs. Kim hung up, Paris said, "Hey."

"Hey back. What's up?"

"I've got Tristan on the other line. I'm trying to convince him to ask Rory out. Help me."

"Ooh," Lane cooed. "That's such a cool idea. PJ Harvey's going to be in Hartford next week. Rory loves PJ Harvey."

"I'll tell him."

"But the concert's sold out."

Paris mulled it over. "Between me and him, we should be able to work something out."

Lane sighed, "Rich folk."

"Hey, we've all got our own unique sets of baggage."

"True. What are you waiting for? Get back on the other line with Tristan then call me back."

"So you think Rory will go for it?"

"Well, duh. You should hear her complain about him. They're obviously crazy about each other."

"That's what I keep saying."