Disclaimer: Amy and Daniel Palladino, along with the rest of the WB, own Gilmore Girls. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Spoilers: Post- "Emily Says Hello". Short, sweet Paris/Marty-ness.

A/N: I became really interested in them as a 'ship last night. I think they're funny together, plus better than Rory/Marty. Because I also love Logan. But who doesn't? Anywho, I think I'm the first one to write Paris/Marty. If not, than this goes out to all those P/M shippers! We need to come up with an awesome name for it.

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Marty barely had time to say good night to Rory before she went into her room. He had awoken her a short time after she fell asleep in his room and walked her back to her dorm. Of course, she had apologized profusely for falling asleep and promised not let it happen again. It was a friend apology, and Marty was once again faced with the painful reality that he was, in fact, going to be only friends with yet another girl.

"Do you want to stay for a while?"

Marty snapped out of his reverie and looked at Paris. "Why?"

She shrugged. "We can't let all this food go to waste." She gestured around the table that was cluttered with various fast food items.

"Sure." He started over to the couch, but suddenly paused. "You're not going to throw things at me if I take the food, will you?"

"Only if you take my cheesy bread," she answered, taking another bite of her eggroll.

He sat down next to her and grabbed a slice of pizza. "I can live with that. So Ramadan proved to be too much, huh?"

She glared at him. "It did not prove to be too much. If you'll notice, it's after sunset, meaning that I can eat as much as I care to."

"You cracked."

"Like an egg," she grumbled, finishing off her eggroll and starting on another carton of noodles.

"Do you have enough information to write your article?" he asked.

She looked at Marty suspiciously for a moment before asking, "Why?"

"I'm just being polite," he told her.

"Well, it's your fault I cracked like I did!" she accused, pointing her forefinger at him to emphasis her point.

"My fault?" he cried. "How is this my fault?"

"With your waving your questionable leftovers all around in my face, taunting me and goading me on to fail," she replied.

"There was no taunting or goading involved. And besides, you're the one that decided to actually participate in Ramadan instead of just researching it," Marty pointed out. "You could have been enjoying those questionable leftovers with Rory and I, but you chose not to."

Paris picked up a half-eaten piece of pizza and turned it over in her hand a few times as she answered. "I am a journalist. Real journalists experience their topics first hand instead of just researching them."

Marty paused for a moment. "I'm thirsty," he announced, as if replying to her statement.

Paris froze for a second, then pointed to the tiny fridge in the corner. "Get me a water."

Marty sat down in front of the miniscule fridge just to become eyelevel with the top. "All you have is water and coffee mix." He turned and held the coffee can in Paris's direction. "Why do you have coffee mix? There's about twenty coffee stand just around your building."

"Rory's obsessed," she informed him simply.

He grabbed two waters and returned to his seat closer to Paris, and handed her a water bottle.

"What were you studying?" she asked.

"What?"

"When Rory went over to help you," she elaborated. "What were you studying?"

"Ah. That." Marty took a sip of his water and swished it about his mouth before swallowing. "Rome."

"What do you know?"

"That Rome has too much history for one person to remember," he joked.

"Do you have your notes? I could help you study," she offered, subconsciously holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

"My notes are back at my dorm," he admitted. Paris looked mildly disappointed, but hid it right away. Marty looked down at his watch. "Speaking of which, I should go. Maybe you could help me study another time?"

Paris nodded. "Sure." She got up with him and walked with him to the door. "This was fun."

"It was," he agreed. He looked at Paris, and suddenly- as if he had no control- leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Paris stood stunned for a second, but then returned the kiss. Just as suddenly as it had started, Marty pulled away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she replied. "It was nice."

Marty nodded. "Yeah. I should really go now."

"Wait!" Paris blurted. "Do you want my number?"

Marty's face broke into a wide grin. "That'd be cool."

Quickly, she grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down her cell phone number. He smiled at her again.

"Thanks."

Paris smiled back and closed the door. Marty stood on the other side for a moment and stared at the number before stuffing it into his pocket and walking away. Maybe his 'only a friend' curse was finally ending.

888888888888888888888888888888888888

END