Hey. :) My hand took over my body and compelled me to write this. I don't know. Here. lol. :)

~malka
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Title: R.I.P, Mr. Fluffikens
Summary: Paris' reaction to The Kiss, again very faintly plotted
Catergory: PG, I'd say.
Feedback: Please. :) Does it seem to quick? Rushed?

I think she was expecting me to break down. Send floods of tears rampaging down Chilton's hallways, maybe even physically attack, kicking and screaming and hair-pulling my pain away.

And I did. At home. In my room. Poor stuffed Mr. Fluffikens. He will be greatly missed.

Oh well. That's life.

I'm really not as bitter as I sound. Actually, I'm strangely calm about this whole thing. At least, *now* I am. Which is good; it means that walking into Chilton Monday morning wasn't quite the horror it could've been. Yes, my heart still wrenched--or is it retched--when I noticed Tristan and Rory having an awkward conversation in the corridor. At least she had the decency to keep it away from my locker.

What a saint.

School passed by. Things went on. People talked. People talked to *me*. I brushed them off, trying to give the impression that I just didn't give a damn. In reality probably making it worse, but you know, I really could care less right now.

I couldn't help but sneak a glance or two at them in Spanish. He was looking off into the distance, eyes strangely unfocused. Maybe he was on drugs. That would explain the entire infatuation. She was bent over her schoolwork of course. She looked back at me and met my eyes. I looked away half-heartedly, not even bothering to stir up the energy it would take to seethe.

School ended, and it was time for my hour-long SAT review. Then that was done too. My heart fluttered slightly when I saw him leaning up against near my locker, waiting for someone. My heart dropped the second I realized he was waiting for *her.* I tried to be nonchalant as I retreived the books I'd need for the day.

"Hey Paris," he greeted me distractedly, craning his neck down the hall, looking for Rory.

Aware of the curious few that were watching us, I uttered a simple, "Hi," in return and exchanged texts. A second later I was out the door. I restrained myself. I walked. I didn't run.

Luck was not with me. Halfway home my car broke down. I walked the half mile to a coffeehouse after cursing my cell phone. And throwing it into a drain ditch nearby.

"Where's your phone?" I demanded of the cashier, ignoring the customers around me.

He pointed to the side of the cafe, near the lavatory, and I walked briskly over to it. Luck was not with me. The phone was hanging off the receiver, one thin wire all that stopped it from completely snapping off. I sighed loudly and stomped back to the counter.

"It's broken," I said stonily. The man looked up from where he was filling an order.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"The. Phone. Is. Broken," I repeated slowly, my irritation growing by the second.

"Uh, here, you can use mine, Paris," a slightly familiar voice said to my left. I whipped my head around and noticed for the first time that Lorelai Gilmore was seated at the stool nearest me.

"Oh, great," I muttered, unable to stop the annoyance from leaping into my words.

"Excuse me?" she raised her eyebrows, slightly taken aback.

"What are you doing here?" I asked rudely, pushing down the voice of consciousness--my mother's voice--that warned me about respecting my elders.

"Why, yes, Paris, it *is* awfully nice of me to offer to let you use my phone. Can I buy you a cup of coffee for your hospitality?" Lorelai asked instead in a sweet voice.

I sighed and slumped into the stool next to hers, begrudgingly glad that I could buy her a cup--it meant I wouldn't have to take charity from a Gilmore. I wouldn't owe them anything. I opened my purse and tossed a few bills on the counter. Lorelai handed me her phone.

"Wow, you beat Michel in Frenchness," she muttered as I clicked the phone on. I wondered briefly what that meant and punched in the nearest tow's number. It was emblazoned in my mind along with fire, police, and Poison Control. Bad things have a way of happening to me; it's best to be prepared.

After the call had been made and Lorelai had gotten her coffee, I started to get up. Lorelai quickly gulped another sip, and then to my surprise, said, "Whoa, where you going, Missy?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to go wait over there," I motioned to a booth along the wall sarcastically. As if she had any right to ask me.

"Uh-uh. You're going to wait right here where I can see you until help arrives," Lorelai said in a firm voice, making it clear that there was to be no arguments.

Like I cared. "I can take of myself, thanks."

"Well, then, you--you owe me for--for...lending you my phone," she stuttered lamely.

"I bought you coffee," I pointed out. What was she trying to pull?

Lorelai was temporarily at a loss. "Well, then, yooouuuuu.....have to keep me company until my very late date arrives."

I bristled at the sound of the word date. Lorelai noticed my reaction and her eyes widened a little. "Whoa. Hell hath no fury like a Paris scorned, huh?"

Ignoring the question, I said instead, "And why would I do that?" referring to my sitting with her.

Lorelai pasted a sweet smile on her face. "I gave you Pop-Tarts. There were strawberry."

Damn. The day we studied at her house. She was really nice. And she'd busted Louise and Madeline. Resigned, I slumped back in my seat.

"Thaaaat's better," Lorelai said in satisfaction. "Now, I'll be Lucy and you be Charlie Brown, and you give me a nickel and I'll dispatch advice that won't really help you."

I stared at her somewhat in disbelief. "It's nothing," I said sharply, tapping my fingernails along the countertop.

"That's not a 'nothing' face, that's a 'I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore' face," Lorelai observed.

"Yeah, well, why don't you ask your daughter about that?" I burst out, unable to keep quiet any longer.

Lorelai's eyes furrowed. "Rory?"

No, your other daughter, I refrained from saying.

"I know, I know, stupid question, Rory's the only kid I've got," Lorelai smacked herself in the head and pushed her empty cup towards the cashier, smiling at him to refill it.

I smirked a little. "Whatever."

Just then a harried and guilty-looking Mr. Medina rushed up to Lorelai. "I'm so sorry I'm late; my dog ate my homework," he apologized, kissing her on the side of her head. Then he noticed me and jumped back. "Paris! Hi," he said nervously.

"Hi Mr. Medina," I muttered, averting my eyes. I still couldn't help feeling a little bad about spreading the him-and-Lorelai rumor. And a little embarrassed to witness my teacher on a date.

"Paris is our chaperone," Lorelai teased Mr. Medina. I rolled my eyes, which did not go unnoticed by either of them. "Ok, so, wait, what's this horrible thing about Rory?" she asked me, concerned.

"Rory did a horrible thing?" Mr. Medina said, sounding surprised. He sat down next to Lorelai, removing his coat.

"Apparently, Rory put that expression on Paris' face," Lorelai said rather regretfully.

Mr. Medina glanced at me. "Ouch."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep a grin from escaping. I couldn't help that they were amusing me. I guess my standards have dropped a bit lately.

"So. Spill," Lorelai was watching me expectantly. So was Mr. Medina. I glanced quickly at him, then dropped my eyes. Talking to Lorelai was unbelievable enough. Talking to Mr. Medina, my *teacher*, was unthinkable. He seemed to catch what I was feeling and hopped off his stool.

"I'm gonna go and...uh...drive the car around the block a few hundred times," he said, smiling politely.

"Uh, why don't you make that a few thousand, and watch out for rabid squirrels," Lorelai called after him. He waved once before exiting. Lorelai turned to me. "You look like you need chocolate."

I sighed, feeling awkward. "I'm not allowed to have chocolate."

"Oh, right, you're Mommy Dearest's kid," Lorelai realized, widening her eyes. I opened my mouth to defend my mother, but nothing came out. I shrugged; she was right. "That must suck," she said sympathetically. "Emily Gilmore was my Mommy Dearest once. It was right around the time I got pregnant with Rory. We were this close to the wire hanger scene when I let the news out.Then she couldn't move for a month except to repeat over and over in a Miss Haversham-type stupor, 'Why me? Why?' "

I exhaled doubtfully. "Yeah, right."

"Saw through that one?" Lorelai was stumped. "Wow, that really is a good school."

I couldn't help laughing just a little. Maybe I'd inadvertantly inhaled too many paint fumes from my mother's redecorating madness.

"Mmm, thank you," Lorelai said eagerly as she wrapped her hands around a fresh steaming mug of java.

"That stuff'll kill you," I muttered, signaling the waiter/cashier for a whole-wheat muffin. All fiber all the time. That's taste.

For some reason Lorelai burst out laughing at my statement. I watched in surprise as she fell into near hysterics. "What?" I finally asked.

Through giggles, Lorelai shook her head. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "It's just that you really should meet Luke. You two would get along so great."

My ears perked up just a little. "Luke?" Hmm. Possibilites, I guess.

"Oh!" Lorelai caught my expression. "Oh, no, honey, he's a little too old for you."

"Figures," I grumbled.

"So this is about a guy?" Lorelai guessed, swirling a sugar stick in her coffee. "Or maybe a lack thereof?" She added gently.

"So is this where you and Mr. Medina always meet?" I said, averting my eyes.

"No, not always," Lorelai divulged. "But you're too young to know that." She smiled a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin and shifted in her seat happily.

"Ugh," I muttered, shuddering at an unbidden mental image. "You suck at hiding things."

"It's one of my character flaws," Lorelai answered without regret.

"My mother, on the other hand, is the queen of secrets," I continued sourly, for what reason, I didn't know. "Secret loves, secret bank accounts, secret island vacation houses, secret lies. My mother's a real hero." I picked the edge off my muffin, but didn't eat it. I'd suddenly lost my appetite.

"Well, hon, I'm sure she's doing the best she can. You know, as much as she knows how to," Lorelai said carefully, a small empathetic smile on her face.

"No doubt," I agreed sarcastically. "She's a peach."

We were both silent for a moment. "You know what I used to do when I was your age?" Lorelai said finally.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, whenever things with my parents seemed like it was just too much for me to handle? Or, or that things would never get better, never be the way I wanted them to be? I looked ahead to the days that I would finally be free of them," Lorelai's voice had taken on a whimsical, nostalgic tone. "I dreamed of what I would be--astronaut supermodel motorcycle-riding beauty queen--and who I would marry--Alf--and that's what kept me going."

"It did," I said doubtfully, crumbling my muffin into bits.

"It did," Lorelai confirmed. "And now, here I am, running my own life, doing what I love to do. Free of my parents and their rules." Lorelai's cell phone rang just then, and she took if from its spot on the counter. "I didn't give you this number so you could call me every five minutes," she said into the speaker without first saying hello. After listening a moment, she sighed and added, "Yes, that's true, I didn't give you the number at all, Rory had to. Yes, Mom, you're right."

As she continued talking, I spied the tow driving past the diner window on the way to my car. Quietly, I picked up my bag and slid off my seat.

Lorelai noticed me leaving and covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "Whoo--wait! What's the thing with Rory?" She asked hurriedly.

I hesitated, then shook my head. "You know, it's not all that important." And you know? I even kinda meant it.

END