fic: an abundance of...
Aug. 6th, 2015 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clockwork_hart1title: an abundance of...
summary: rory/paris/jess, makeouts + literary criticisms (a 20something roomates au)
rating: mature not-quite explicit because I couldn't be bothered writing porn
gilmore girls fic? lol wut?
this is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kwritten and fluffyfrolicker's fault also doris is doing a ficathon go prompt me buffy/tara and/or cordelia
Working freelance was a terrible idea. She has the worst editor.
“You are your editor.” Jess supplies, flicking cereal at Rory’s hair.
“That is exactly my point. I need to have a long conversation with myself about my productivity.” She flicks cereal back.
“That’s some special logic there, Gilmore.”
Paris drinks straight from the juice carton and slams it on the table. “You’re both very special, I get it, but if any of that cereal ends up in my notes I will skin you.”
“Were cups too much of a hassle?” Rory slides over to grab the carton.
“What, am I meant to pour it into a highball glass and pretend my 70 cent grape juice is an overpriced mouthful of red from Beaujolais?” Paris frowns into her cheerios.
“No but a red solo would be nice.” Jess flicks a bran flake in Paris’s direction and Rory ducks away from the ensuing battle, bending over at the waist to replace the carton in the fridge.
They are both staring when she turns back. “What?”
Paris blinks a few times and Jess clears his throat.
“I’m not wearing underwear, am I?”
Jess chews his bottom lip. “Not even a little bit.”
“Well that’s...I think I’m gonna clean up this article from my bedroom until my cheeks stop burning.”
“That might be best.”
**
Three travel magazines reject her Secret History of NY article before Rory decides to shove it on her blog and start on something fresh. It was overdone, anyway. More of an excuse to wander round The Factory for three hours and pass it off as work.
Her bedsheets smell overpoweringly like her cheap deodorant and her mouth tastes like stale coffee and nothing like another person. There’s a coldness to it, knowing she’s surrounded at all sides and yet so quietly alone.
She smacks her arm across her mouth and sucks at the skin there until is blanches and reddens, spit-soft and raw. It doesn’t help.
“Well researched but poorly timed, Gilmore. New York is for the Sex and the City Generation, now.”
“Thank you, Paris!” She yells through the wall. She almost trips over the annotated article when she goes to the bathroom.
**
“Oh my God Caufield, I can hear you thinking from over here.” Paris throws a pillow in Jess’s general direction, kicking a notepad off the sofa.
Jess wraps a hand around her ankle, dragging at the white cotton of her ankle socks. “Oh yeah, what am I thinking right now?”
Paris rolls her eyes and taps her toes against his wrist. “You’re thinking that your second draft is overwritten, fatalistic drivel - which is crap, by the way. Vaguely cliched and stylised, sure, but bad writing it’s not.” She flicks her head back to where Rory is leaning over the breakfast counter. “You’re also thinking that you like it when Rory wears that skirt because it makes her legs seem particularly statuesque and how much you hate that I can read you liked a third grader snivelling through The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”
“I object to that last one.”
Rory slides in between them on the couch and taps them both on the head with the New Yorker. “Play nice.”
“I am playing nice.” Paris pouts. “I could have said -”
“Play nicer, then.” Rory takes a sip of wine and grimaces. Spending more on wine than rent still doesn’t make it go down easier.
“How else am I meant to make Jess squirm when he’s being distracting?”
Jess leans over the back of the couch and flicks at Paris’s ponytail.
Rory hides her grin in the rim of her glass. “You’ll just have to be creative.”
**
“Hey.” Rory drops down on the arm of the couch, leaning over enough that her hair tickles Paris’s shoulder. Her fingers glance the back of Paris’s neck.
“Hmm.” Paris lays her laptop on the coffee table. “Is there any specific reason you’re accosting me in the livingroom?”
“I hardly think saying ‘hey’ counts as accosting.” Rory slumps further down. Leave it to Paris to shoot comfort flirting down like a bumpkin with a bolt gun.
“Your hair is all curtained over me and you’re leaning enough into my space that I can feel you breathing. If you were a dog you’d be humping my leg right now. Why?”
Rory’s hand slips onto Paris’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m curious.”
Paris cocks her head. “We’ve kissed before.”
“Yeah, but not in this apartment.” Her fingers drag lightly over the base of Paris’s throat.
She swallows, cheeks pinking. “And Jess?”
“Also lives here, yes.”
Paris twists so she’s facing Rory, head tilted up just a touch. “And you’re hoping he might walk in on us making out on the couch?”
“I wouldn’t be averse to it.”
“Huh.” Paris leans forward and Rory overbalances, sliding onto the back of the couch. “He won’t be back for another twenty minutes. Let me get back to you.” Paris picks her laptop up and wanders into her bedroom. Rory presses her face into the cushions.
Jess comes in ten minutes later and throws a blanket at her head. “Are you wearing my boxers?”
“No?”
He taps his foot. “If you’re not wearing my boxers does that mean I can not smoke in here whilst your face is part of the couch?”
“Balcony.”
“But -”
She points at him without looking up. “Balcony.”
“Fine.”
He stomps out and Paris stomps in. “Was that Jess?”
“Mm hm.”
“Why is he home so early? He’s not supposed to be here yet. Hey, Tyler Durden, why are you home already?”
Rory groans and kicks at the couch cushions.
**
She’s just sinking into the tub when Paris walks in and sits on the toilet lid. Her hair is frazzled and her mascara slept in and Jess’s-used-to-be-Luke’s sweatshirt drowns her. “Why now?”
Rory blows bubbles out of her eyes. “Huh?”
“Why now? We’ve been friends since we were what, fourteen, and now suddenly you wanna share panties and swap lipgloss?”
Rory ducks her head under the water and Paris kicks the tub. Bubbles waterfall over the lip.
Rory shakes her head and sends water spilling across the tiling. “I’m comfortable. With you, with all this. Just - we make sense. Why not?”
Paris frowns.
“Come here.” Rory leans forward, grabs Paris’s wrist with a wet hand and tugs her toward the tub. Paris stumbles to her knees on the wet bathmat and Rory tips her head back, just enough to let their lips glance in a soft, searching kiss. Paris makes a sound against her mouth then pulls forward, tugging at Rory’s head with her fingers and licking deep into her mouth.
When Rory pulls back to breathe, Paris tries to pull her back. “Hey ow hair.”
“Right, right.” Her eyes are glassy and big.
“So, operation girls gone wild is a success, then?” Rory blows bubbles at Paris’s face.
Paris blinks and splashes water back. “Wanna go make out on the couch in your towel and see if Jess comes out?”
“Go put on a Barry White cd and I’ll see what I can do.”
“We own a Barry White cd?”
“You see, my mom...”
**
She finds Paris asleep on the rug surrounded by cds. Jess is sitting beside her, playing with her hair. He glances up at Rory, half towel-dried and dripping on the carpet, lips still tingling.
“Do I want to know?” He asks.
“No, probably not.”
He draws his fingertips down Paris’s spine, still looking up at Rory. She smiles, and he returns it. “Let me put on a shirt and we’ll dump her on the couch?”
“Sure.”
She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away, and it feels like butterflies bursting warm and familiar deep in her guts.
**
Paris has her head on Rory’s shoulder and her toes digging into Jess’s thigh. Samantha wriggles her nose on the tv and Rory hides her smile in Paris’s hair when she peeks Jess trying to mimic her.
“I think this is the longest you two have gone without lapsing into a feminist exploration of the 50s in media.” Jess picks up one of Paris’s socked feet and pokes her big toe.
She hums and tips her head up enough that her lips can find Rory’s, kissing her slow and long. Rory brings her hands up to frame Paris’s face and licks into her mouth, tugging her closer, draping Paris over her chest as she sucks her lower lip into her mouth.
“Well, that’s a new development.” Jess is staring at the two of them, still rubbing at the soul of Paris’s foot. Paris slides off of Rory and tugs Jess forward and kissing him hard. He makes a confused sound and shuts his eyes, like he’s letting her drag him down wherever she wants him to be.
His lips are wet and swollen when she pulls back.
“So, we’re all on the same page here?” Paris twists her fingers into Rory’s and grabs Jess by the collar.
“I mean, I could ask a couple of questions -”
Rory vaults over Paris and cuts him off with a kiss, pulling at his hair until his mouth opens under hers. She’s not sure what it means that she can taste Paris on him.
He leans back, smoothing the hair back from her face and looking between the two girls. “Hey, so I’m pretty sure sex with three people on a couch isn’t gonna work.”
Paris pulls Rory back and hooks her chin over Rory’s shoulder. “Wow, he has so much to learn.”
“Ah, but we get to teach him.”
“Wise and true.”
Rory climbs into Jess’s lap and Paris slides in behind him, sucking dark red marks across the skin of his throat.
Jess tangles his fingers into Rory’s hair and smiles against her lips. “Hi.”
“Hey yourself.” She rocks down on his lap, tugging his lower lip between her teeth and worrying it.”I think we’re all too overdressed.”
“Hmm.” He tips their foreheads together. “I’ve got you in my lap, what’s Paris getting out of this?”
Paris bites down on his collarbone.
“Paris likes oral sex.”
Jess’s pupils blow, just like that. “And have you two?”
“Not yet, she’s just very vocal.” Rory presses a kiss to the side of his jaw, tugging her off the flannel shirt she stole from him.
“But that yet - am I in that somewhere?” He smooths his hands down the skin of her belly, warm and exposed to the chill. Rory shivers, his fingers glancing the underside of her breasts, hot on her skin.
Paris pulls back from his neck, leaving a trail of dark bruises behind. “That depends on how dextrous you’re feeling tonight.” She leans down and pulls his shirt over his head.
They’re all sans-clothes, ruffled and well-kissed and giddy. Rory is cradled in the vee of Paris’s legs, trading kisses between them both and Jess settles above them. Sweaty hands slip over skin, too fumbling for anyone to tell what belongs to who. Rory flushes hot and cold, Jess over her and Paris under her, closing her between them both. With Paris’s mouth on hers and Jess’s fingers pressing bruises into her hips, she lets herself shatter, sure that they’ll somehow put her together again.
**
Rory wakes up with Paris’s knee in her ribs and Jess face-down on the floor.
It’s as good a morning as any, she supposes, and slides off to make coffee without bothering with pants.
summary: rory/paris/jess, makeouts + literary criticisms (a 20something roomates au)
rating: mature not-quite explicit because I couldn't be bothered writing porn
gilmore girls fic? lol wut?
this is
kwritten and fluffyfrolicker's fault also doris is doing a ficathon go prompt me buffy/tara and/or cordeliaWorking freelance was a terrible idea. She has the worst editor.
“You are your editor.” Jess supplies, flicking cereal at Rory’s hair.
“That is exactly my point. I need to have a long conversation with myself about my productivity.” She flicks cereal back.
“That’s some special logic there, Gilmore.”
Paris drinks straight from the juice carton and slams it on the table. “You’re both very special, I get it, but if any of that cereal ends up in my notes I will skin you.”
“Were cups too much of a hassle?” Rory slides over to grab the carton.
“What, am I meant to pour it into a highball glass and pretend my 70 cent grape juice is an overpriced mouthful of red from Beaujolais?” Paris frowns into her cheerios.
“No but a red solo would be nice.” Jess flicks a bran flake in Paris’s direction and Rory ducks away from the ensuing battle, bending over at the waist to replace the carton in the fridge.
They are both staring when she turns back. “What?”
Paris blinks a few times and Jess clears his throat.
“I’m not wearing underwear, am I?”
Jess chews his bottom lip. “Not even a little bit.”
“Well that’s...I think I’m gonna clean up this article from my bedroom until my cheeks stop burning.”
“That might be best.”
**
Three travel magazines reject her Secret History of NY article before Rory decides to shove it on her blog and start on something fresh. It was overdone, anyway. More of an excuse to wander round The Factory for three hours and pass it off as work.
Her bedsheets smell overpoweringly like her cheap deodorant and her mouth tastes like stale coffee and nothing like another person. There’s a coldness to it, knowing she’s surrounded at all sides and yet so quietly alone.
She smacks her arm across her mouth and sucks at the skin there until is blanches and reddens, spit-soft and raw. It doesn’t help.
“Well researched but poorly timed, Gilmore. New York is for the Sex and the City Generation, now.”
“Thank you, Paris!” She yells through the wall. She almost trips over the annotated article when she goes to the bathroom.
**
“Oh my God Caufield, I can hear you thinking from over here.” Paris throws a pillow in Jess’s general direction, kicking a notepad off the sofa.
Jess wraps a hand around her ankle, dragging at the white cotton of her ankle socks. “Oh yeah, what am I thinking right now?”
Paris rolls her eyes and taps her toes against his wrist. “You’re thinking that your second draft is overwritten, fatalistic drivel - which is crap, by the way. Vaguely cliched and stylised, sure, but bad writing it’s not.” She flicks her head back to where Rory is leaning over the breakfast counter. “You’re also thinking that you like it when Rory wears that skirt because it makes her legs seem particularly statuesque and how much you hate that I can read you liked a third grader snivelling through The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”
“I object to that last one.”
Rory slides in between them on the couch and taps them both on the head with the New Yorker. “Play nice.”
“I am playing nice.” Paris pouts. “I could have said -”
“Play nicer, then.” Rory takes a sip of wine and grimaces. Spending more on wine than rent still doesn’t make it go down easier.
“How else am I meant to make Jess squirm when he’s being distracting?”
Jess leans over the back of the couch and flicks at Paris’s ponytail.
Rory hides her grin in the rim of her glass. “You’ll just have to be creative.”
**
“Hey.” Rory drops down on the arm of the couch, leaning over enough that her hair tickles Paris’s shoulder. Her fingers glance the back of Paris’s neck.
“Hmm.” Paris lays her laptop on the coffee table. “Is there any specific reason you’re accosting me in the livingroom?”
“I hardly think saying ‘hey’ counts as accosting.” Rory slumps further down. Leave it to Paris to shoot comfort flirting down like a bumpkin with a bolt gun.
“Your hair is all curtained over me and you’re leaning enough into my space that I can feel you breathing. If you were a dog you’d be humping my leg right now. Why?”
Rory’s hand slips onto Paris’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m curious.”
Paris cocks her head. “We’ve kissed before.”
“Yeah, but not in this apartment.” Her fingers drag lightly over the base of Paris’s throat.
She swallows, cheeks pinking. “And Jess?”
“Also lives here, yes.”
Paris twists so she’s facing Rory, head tilted up just a touch. “And you’re hoping he might walk in on us making out on the couch?”
“I wouldn’t be averse to it.”
“Huh.” Paris leans forward and Rory overbalances, sliding onto the back of the couch. “He won’t be back for another twenty minutes. Let me get back to you.” Paris picks her laptop up and wanders into her bedroom. Rory presses her face into the cushions.
Jess comes in ten minutes later and throws a blanket at her head. “Are you wearing my boxers?”
“No?”
He taps his foot. “If you’re not wearing my boxers does that mean I can not smoke in here whilst your face is part of the couch?”
“Balcony.”
“But -”
She points at him without looking up. “Balcony.”
“Fine.”
He stomps out and Paris stomps in. “Was that Jess?”
“Mm hm.”
“Why is he home so early? He’s not supposed to be here yet. Hey, Tyler Durden, why are you home already?”
Rory groans and kicks at the couch cushions.
**
She’s just sinking into the tub when Paris walks in and sits on the toilet lid. Her hair is frazzled and her mascara slept in and Jess’s-used-to-be-Luke’s sweatshirt drowns her. “Why now?”
Rory blows bubbles out of her eyes. “Huh?”
“Why now? We’ve been friends since we were what, fourteen, and now suddenly you wanna share panties and swap lipgloss?”
Rory ducks her head under the water and Paris kicks the tub. Bubbles waterfall over the lip.
Rory shakes her head and sends water spilling across the tiling. “I’m comfortable. With you, with all this. Just - we make sense. Why not?”
Paris frowns.
“Come here.” Rory leans forward, grabs Paris’s wrist with a wet hand and tugs her toward the tub. Paris stumbles to her knees on the wet bathmat and Rory tips her head back, just enough to let their lips glance in a soft, searching kiss. Paris makes a sound against her mouth then pulls forward, tugging at Rory’s head with her fingers and licking deep into her mouth.
When Rory pulls back to breathe, Paris tries to pull her back. “Hey ow hair.”
“Right, right.” Her eyes are glassy and big.
“So, operation girls gone wild is a success, then?” Rory blows bubbles at Paris’s face.
Paris blinks and splashes water back. “Wanna go make out on the couch in your towel and see if Jess comes out?”
“Go put on a Barry White cd and I’ll see what I can do.”
“We own a Barry White cd?”
“You see, my mom...”
**
She finds Paris asleep on the rug surrounded by cds. Jess is sitting beside her, playing with her hair. He glances up at Rory, half towel-dried and dripping on the carpet, lips still tingling.
“Do I want to know?” He asks.
“No, probably not.”
He draws his fingertips down Paris’s spine, still looking up at Rory. She smiles, and he returns it. “Let me put on a shirt and we’ll dump her on the couch?”
“Sure.”
She can feel his eyes on her as she walks away, and it feels like butterflies bursting warm and familiar deep in her guts.
**
Paris has her head on Rory’s shoulder and her toes digging into Jess’s thigh. Samantha wriggles her nose on the tv and Rory hides her smile in Paris’s hair when she peeks Jess trying to mimic her.
“I think this is the longest you two have gone without lapsing into a feminist exploration of the 50s in media.” Jess picks up one of Paris’s socked feet and pokes her big toe.
She hums and tips her head up enough that her lips can find Rory’s, kissing her slow and long. Rory brings her hands up to frame Paris’s face and licks into her mouth, tugging her closer, draping Paris over her chest as she sucks her lower lip into her mouth.
“Well, that’s a new development.” Jess is staring at the two of them, still rubbing at the soul of Paris’s foot. Paris slides off of Rory and tugs Jess forward and kissing him hard. He makes a confused sound and shuts his eyes, like he’s letting her drag him down wherever she wants him to be.
His lips are wet and swollen when she pulls back.
“So, we’re all on the same page here?” Paris twists her fingers into Rory’s and grabs Jess by the collar.
“I mean, I could ask a couple of questions -”
Rory vaults over Paris and cuts him off with a kiss, pulling at his hair until his mouth opens under hers. She’s not sure what it means that she can taste Paris on him.
He leans back, smoothing the hair back from her face and looking between the two girls. “Hey, so I’m pretty sure sex with three people on a couch isn’t gonna work.”
Paris pulls Rory back and hooks her chin over Rory’s shoulder. “Wow, he has so much to learn.”
“Ah, but we get to teach him.”
“Wise and true.”
Rory climbs into Jess’s lap and Paris slides in behind him, sucking dark red marks across the skin of his throat.
Jess tangles his fingers into Rory’s hair and smiles against her lips. “Hi.”
“Hey yourself.” She rocks down on his lap, tugging his lower lip between her teeth and worrying it.”I think we’re all too overdressed.”
“Hmm.” He tips their foreheads together. “I’ve got you in my lap, what’s Paris getting out of this?”
Paris bites down on his collarbone.
“Paris likes oral sex.”
Jess’s pupils blow, just like that. “And have you two?”
“Not yet, she’s just very vocal.” Rory presses a kiss to the side of his jaw, tugging her off the flannel shirt she stole from him.
“But that yet - am I in that somewhere?” He smooths his hands down the skin of her belly, warm and exposed to the chill. Rory shivers, his fingers glancing the underside of her breasts, hot on her skin.
Paris pulls back from his neck, leaving a trail of dark bruises behind. “That depends on how dextrous you’re feeling tonight.” She leans down and pulls his shirt over his head.
They’re all sans-clothes, ruffled and well-kissed and giddy. Rory is cradled in the vee of Paris’s legs, trading kisses between them both and Jess settles above them. Sweaty hands slip over skin, too fumbling for anyone to tell what belongs to who. Rory flushes hot and cold, Jess over her and Paris under her, closing her between them both. With Paris’s mouth on hers and Jess’s fingers pressing bruises into her hips, she lets herself shatter, sure that they’ll somehow put her together again.
**
Rory wakes up with Paris’s knee in her ribs and Jess face-down on the floor.
It’s as good a morning as any, she supposes, and slides off to make coffee without bothering with pants.
