A/N: Hello, readers! Some of you I may know from my other fic (You Can Be a Hero In An Age of None) while others may be complete strangers (as much as people joined by a common love for Stars Hollow can be), but either way, thanks for checking out my new story. A few things first:

1. This story is centered on the friendship between Rory and Paris. As much as I am a shipper (you can check out my other fic to see which kind, obviously the best one), this story will not primarily focus on romantic relationships for either girl. Towards the end, it may venture towards that territory, and continuations may feature that aspect, but this particular fic is just about these incredible women.

2. This fic is openly, unapologetically feminist. If that word scares you, go look it up and come back once you've learned the difference between the media definition (read: SCARY!) and the actuality of the concept (read: EQUAL!). That's an important part of who I am as a person and a writer, so if you don't believe in equality for women, this fic is not for you.

3. This chapter was a little awkward to write, as I had to start by adapting and changing an existing scene, so please forgive any little blunders (though you're welcome to point them out!). Any parts that weren't written by me were taken directly from this source ( ) and quoted. If you believe I've misquoted anything, please let me know and I'll fix it immediately! I have no intention of taking credit for the original words, which were the creation of Amy Sherman-Palladino and Co. and are solely their property.

I do not own any of these existing characters or concepts, all of which belong to the people referenced above. And OY WITH THE POODLES ALREADY! Let's start the damn story!

Chapter 1

"I say we repaint."

"Did you ever paint?"

"No, Doyle doesn't believe in improving someone else's property."
"Men!"
"Yeah, men."
"Well, we will repaint."
"A new color scheme for a new era."
"I'll eat to that."

Rory smiled at Paris as they toasted with their chopsticks.

"Hey, this is gonna be great. You and me and a freshly painted apartment, no men - just lots and lots of Chinese food."
"We are going to get huge."
"That's okay. We'll get a treadmill."
"Yeah, you always wanted a treadmill."
"I did. Doyle thought, 'Why get a treadmill when you can walk outside?'"
"With all the murderers and rapists."
"Exactly what I would say. I'm glad you're back."
"Me too… You know, Paris, I'm really sorry about the whole editorship thing."
"It's okay."
"I didn't lobby for the job. I mean, I swear I had no idea.
"Forget it. I mean, who are we kidding? I am not cut out to deal with people. I was made to be in a lab or an operating room or a bunker somewhere with a well-behaved monkey by my side. I'm sorry, too, you know, for throwing you out."
"Consider it even."

Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted their tender moment.
"Did we actually order that pizza?"
"I thought it was just discussed."
"Who is it?" Paris shouted.
"It's Logan."

"I don't want to talk to him!" Rory exclaimed.
"I got it," Paris reassured her before cracking the door. "Well, well, if it isn't New Haven's favorite whore hound.
"Is Rory here?"

"Yes."
"Can I talk to her?"
"No. You can talk to me." She paused to unchain the door and then opens it, still scowling. "What do you want to talk about - life, love, common symptoms of sexually transmitted diseases?"
"Rory."
"Rashes, sores, insanity…"
"Five minutes, please!"
"You know, there's a few things I've always wanted to say to you, but out of respect for my friend Rory here, I've refrained. However, the circumstances seem to have changed."
"You don't know what you're talking about Paris..."

"I know you cheated on Rory."
"I did not cheat on Rory."
"Are you going to deny it? Are you serious?"
"We were apart."
"Oh, please!"
"We were! We weren't together! And why the hell am I arguing with you? I don't want you back."
"You, Logan Huntzberger, are nothing but a two-bit, spoiled waste of a trust fund. You offer nothing to women or the world in general. If you were to disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow, the only person that would miss you is your Porsche dealer."
"Want to chime in here?" Logan asked Rory, annoyed. She smirked.
"No, I think Paris has got it covered."

Frustrated, Logan finally pushed past Paris. "Okay, that's it."
"Wait! Hey!" Paris protested.
"Rory, I just need 60 seconds."
"Go away, Logan."
"No one invited you in. Get out right now before I go Bonaduce on your ass!"
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. We're gonna talk."
"What the hell is this door doing unlocked?" Doyle demanded as he walked into the apartment.
"What are you doing here?" Paris responded angrily.
"I want to talk to you."
"I told you to go."
"You did, and I did. I left, and I got drunk, and I thought about why I left and got drunk, and I realized that you are wrong."
"I am not! And what are you wearing?"
"Don't change the subject!"
"Can we go in the other room?" Logan asked Rory, looking at the other couple in disgust. Rory shot him a glare.

"No. If you want to talk, we'll do it here, and now. And by talk, I mean you can talk and I can ignore you until you finally listen to the two people who actually live here who have been saying that we want you to GET OUT."

"We're supposed to be together, Paris. You know it, I know it, your life coach knows it." Doyle pled.
"That's your argument? Your life coach knows it? The guy needed court-ordered rehabilitation, Doyle, so I'm pretty secure in saying I'm not going rely on him to make this decision for me. Which is irrelevant, because I've already made it. Now leave."
"Paris, listen to me. I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."
"No, you're not. Yale might be, a lot of things might be, but you are definitely not. And you are proving it every second you keep standing here, unwelcome, spewing crap. Was I not clear when I said to leave? If I wasn't, let me be absolutely clear. LEAVE."
"I didn't have to come back here begging you to talk to me. I have options."
"Right…" Paris replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"I do! In fact, I almost hooked up with a really hot chick tonight." Rory abruptly turned away from Logan to address Doyle.
"I don't see how that's gonna help your case, Doyle, at all. Now Logan, GO. I don't want to talk to you anymore, I don't want to see you anymore, I'll have Colin and Finn pick up any of my stuff you have."
"You could have hooked up with a hot chick?" Paris demanded. Rory looked over nervously.
"Yes."
"In rhinestone buttons? Who was it - Sheila E.? And anyway, it doesn't matter. Go hook up with her! I don't care who you're with now, because we're done. Over. It's not a discussion."

Paris looked at Rory uncertainly. Rory nodded back encouragingly before responding.

"I second that. Both of you, leave."

"Now." Paris crossed her arms.

"You're not even going to hear me out?" Logan asked in disbelief.
"No. I don't care what you have to say," Rory replied.
"That seems a little unfair. Totalitarian."
"Well, tough. Go cry about it to Walker, Alexandra, the Council for Democracy, the UN…whoever you find most appropriate."
"No, we weren't. Now we are. So go ahead, there's nothing in your way. I'm not going to ask you again." Pointedly, she looked at the door. Logan sighed and walked out into the hallway.

"You're gonna regret this, Ace."

"No, I'm really not."

Closing the door, she turned to face Paris and Doyle. "Paris?"

"Doyle was just leaving."
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you are!"

Rory interrupted, "Look, Doyle, I know you're upset and you want to talk to Paris, but listen to her. She doesn't want to talk to you! She wants you to leave, and to be honest, I agree. So I think it's time you go home." Doyle looked at her, annoyed.
"Rory, this is none of your…"
"It's my apartment too, so who's in it is absolutely my business. And I'm asking you to leave."

"Being inside a place of residence without the consent of anyone who lives there…there's a name for that. Trespassing. It's a crime." Paris added.

"You're being ridiculous."

"AM I?"

"YES?

"OH REALLY?

"YES, YOU'RE BEING CRAZY. BUT I SHOULDN'T BE SO SURPRISED, THAT'S NOTHING NEW!"

Paris stepped back, stunned. Immediately Rory stepped between them.

"Doyle, get out," Rory ordered, her voice cold.

Doyle's face crumpled. "Paris, I didn't…"

"Doyle, now." Rory opened the door and gestured Doyle through it.

With one last regretful look at Paris, Doyle walked outside. Quickly Rory slammed the door, bolting every one of its many locks.

Rory looked over at Paris. Her face was still frozen. Walking over to her, she put her arm around her shoulder and sighed heavily.

"So…pizza? And ice cream? Or do you want to punch my head? You seem to find Krav Maga therapeutic…"

Reluctantly Paris smiled. After a long pause, she quietly responded. "Pizza. Maybe Thai. Or brownies. And brownies."

Rory grinned. "You're well on your way to becoming a Gilmore."

"Or an obesity statistic."

"You're forgetting about the treadmill."