TITLE: Summer of Love (1/?)

AUTHOR: freelance spice

EMAIL: freelancefics@aol.com

FEEDBACK: Yes, please. Especially since there's only a handful of this stuff out there at the moment.

RATING: Currently PG, but working toward a solid R. =P

SUMMARY: Paris and Rory in DC, between Seasons 2 and 3.

PAIRING: Paris/Rory

DISCLAIMER: Not my characters, just giving them the good times they deserve.



Rory tossed her bags next to the first available bed and flung herself down on the mattress. Paris stepped into the room, followed by a bellboy who was lugging several matching bags.

"Just put them over there." She gestured toward the vacant bed.

The bellboy carefully set the luggage down then graciously exited as Paris handed him a tip.

"Oh, the working class. They're so quaint. So greatful."

Rory just shook her head and picked up a packet off of the desk. "You know, Paris, what exactly are you planning to do once you're out of Harvard and in the big bad world?"

The blonde shot her a confused glance. "Politics. I mean, why else would I waste my time with something as trivial as student leadership. It's simply a rung in the ladder straight to the top." She began unpacking her bags. "I just hope there's a decent country left to run when I get there."

"And if not, I'm sure you'll fix it within the first week." Rory dug through the packet and pulled out a stack of brochures.

"It's nice to know you recognize my power."

"Ooo! All you can eat Chinese buffet."

"Or perhaps you're just insane."

"No, look, all you can eat Chinese buffet. 5.99 a person. That's quite the deal." She handed a brochure to Paris.

"A deal with the devil, if you ask me. People die at those things." She tossed the brochure onto the bed.

"Yes, I seem to recall several films at eleven featuring Chinese buffet deaths."

"I'm allergic to MSG."

Rory crossed her arms. "A bright and shiny nickel says you haven't even had MSG."

"I imagine I'm allergic to MSG."

"And I imagine all the people living life in peace... at the all you can eat Chinese buffet." She grabbed the blonde my the arm and pulled her toward the door.

"Fine. But if I swell up, you're responsible for antihistamatising me."

"Look at you... You're not even President yet and you're already making up your own words."

-

"I hope my youthful metabolism is still with me. This stuff can't be good for you. What is that? Chicken?" Paris gestured at Rory's plate with her chopstick.

"Well, that's what the menu says... but there is a disturbing lack of cats in this neighborhood."

Paris stopped eating. "Cats?"

"Sorry. A little MAD magazine humor."

"Your blue collar humor ceases to amuse me."

Rory rolled her eyes.

Paris pulled a notebook out of her bag. "Now, tomorrow, we're scheduled for an 9AM `Get to Know You Brunch' followed by the Leadership Orientation at noon. Then we have a few hours of free time until our `Get Acquainted' dinner at five thirty..."

"Gee, I hope I get a chance to meet people while we're here."

"... then we have an informal ice breaker type social mixer at seven thirty."

"Work, work, work. Didn't they consider our social lives at all?"

"Tomorrow's the biggie. We have to establish ourselves. Let people know we mean business."

"You."

"Me? Me what?"

"You mean business. I just trail behind you in the wake of your omnipotence."

"I'm sorry if I take this seriously. People look at this stuff. Important people. Harvard people."

"Right. Okay. I'll mean business. But not till tomorrow." Rory reached across the table and grabbed the notebook.

"Hey, I was reviewing my itinerary!"

The Gilmore girl stood up and began making her way toward the exit. "You can have it back at exactly 8:45 tomorrow morning."

"You expect me to last over fourteen hours without it?"

"You will if you want a sane vice president to travel in your wake tomorrow. Right now we're going to go do something totally non-government related, which is a great challenge, considering we're standing in our nation's capitol. Take the challenge, Paris. Live on the edge. Stay out past nine-thirty. Play a video game. Ride a bus. Spit on the sidewalks. Act like you're in high school." Rory slipped out the door.

Paris sat in the booth for a moment, then followed her out.