Fic: News of the Day, RoryLogan (GG)
Feb. 9th, 2005 03:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubykatewritingTITLE: News of the Day
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Logan
RATING: R
SUMMARY: He wipes gently at her cheeks. “This is only temporary.”
DISCLAIMER: All characters are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to Green Eve, as always, for the beta and the Finn suggestion, and to Angeleyez for the encouragement. Also, title comes from the song The Ghost in You by The Psychedelic Furs.
-
“Where the hell are you going?”
“Leave me alone.”
“No.”
“Get away from me.”
“Come on, Ace.”
“Don’t even start, Logan. This is the last time. I swear it.”
“Like you said the last time?”
“This time is different. I mean it this time.”
“Sure you do,” he replies sarcastically.
She grits her teeth at his tone. It would be so easy to hate him if he was always like this. But he is so much more than the arrogant jackass most of the time. It’s those very qualities, the way he can make her laugh until her sides hurt. Or the time he woke her up at four o’clock in the morning, coffee in hand, so they could watch the sunrise. They are what keep her coming back for more. Panic flutters inside her chest. How is she supposed to give him up?
“Would you just stop for a second? Let me explain?”
Good. Anger again. It overtakes the panic. “Why should I let you explain when it’s plain for all to see, Logan?” She spits out his name like a curse. “I’m a joke. You’re just having fun, being man-about-town, but I’m involved. Like involved involved. Don’t you get that? I may dabble in fun-and-carefree, but I don’t live there. Not like you.”
“Jesus, would you stop walking so fast? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
“Hey, there, Captain Oblivious, I’m not really in the mood to converse with you right now.” She rolls her eyes, breath puffing through her lips. “Humiliation does that to a girl.”
“I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship, Rory.”
This stops her, and he barely manages to avoid colliding into her back and sending them both face-first into the grass. “Shit, Ace. Some warning next time,” he murmurs. He clutches her waist, trying to regain his balance.
She turns to face him. “I know,” she admits. “But I was stupid enough to believe that I could be that girl. God, I always do this!” Her entire body trembles with frustration. “I wanted you, so I decided to be this person. But I am so obviously not that person.” She smoothes his shirtfront; it’s only buttoned half-way up. Her mouth quirks to the side, not quite a smile; she should have known better. “I’m sorry, Logan. This isn’t your fault.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can handle just being friends with you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at her feet. “And you certainly can’t handle being a boyfriend.”
He slides his hands down her shoulders, holding her by the upper arms. “I don’t want to lose you, Rory.”
She turns her face away. “That’s not up to you.”
“There has to be some middle ground.”
Rory just shakes her head, a sad smile curving her mouth.
“You pick now to go non-verbal?”
“I have to go,” she whispers, meeting his eyes. Fresh tears slip down her cheeks.
“No. No, you don’t.” Logan pulls her against his chest. “Please.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other around?” Rory hedges, but they both know it’s a lie. She will do everything she can to avoid him.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He kisses her. It is disorienting. She knows his mouth, his taste, and still she aches. She will miss the chase. “Goodbye, Rory Gilmore.”
“Goodbye, Logan Huntzberger.”
When she turns to leave this time, he doesn’t follow.
-
“Fancy running into you here.”
She glances up, eyes slightly unfocused. “Logan!” she says, a genuine smile gracing her face.
Logan offers a tight smile. He gestures at the chair across from her and she nods.
“How’ve you been?”
She shrugs. “Pretty good. You?”
“Me? I’ve been okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yep,” he replies shortly. “So, how was junior year? Everything you expected?”
“Very few surprises,” she admits, her brows drawing together in a brief frown. She studies him, glad for this chance to look at him again. “What about you? I was surprised when I found out you decided not to work on the paper this year. How did your dad take the news?”
“He wasn’t happy – at first, anyway.” He doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I promised to work for one of his newspapers after graduation. He was pleased.”
“Really?” Rory leans forward, intrigued. “I always assumed you’d try to duck that as long as possible.”
“He just bought a British newspaper, which means I’ll be living in London. It’s a trade-off.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Yeah.” He is quiet, watching her, and she fidgets under his gaze. “Rory, I – I’m sorry. About how things ended. I would gladly go back and do things differently if I could.” He clears his throat and waves his hands in an odd fashion, clearly out of sorts.
She feels awkward, straying into territory she would much rather leave behind her. “That’s not necessary, Logan, but thank –"
His eyes are unwavering. “I’ve missed your friendship a great deal, Rory.”
Glancing down at her textbook, she stares at the glossy photographs until she finds her voice again. “I’ve missed you too.”
“There’s more.” He straightens. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?” she stutters.
“For the summer. I leave the week after graduation and I would love for you to come and stay for awhile.”
Rory squeezes her eyes shut, breathing in deeply. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t, Logan. I can’t go back.” She rubs at the headache forming in the middle of her forehead. “Besides, we haven’t even seen each other in over a year.”
“Don’t give me some bullshit about us not knowing each other anymore, Rory.”
“Well it’s true, Logan. We don’t. Sometimes I wonder if it we ever did.”
“I think about you, Rory, even after all this time. That doesn’t happen to me every day. I hope it means something.”
“I don’t care what it means. I’ve moved on. You should try it.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“God! That ego of yours! It should be studied!” Rory pushes away from the table, her chair screeching against the wood flooring. She starts shoving her stuff into her book bag. “Look, I have a life. I have responsibilities. I can’t just take off on a whim like you.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“Yes, because I might not get a word in edgewise. You’re upset – understandably so – but that usually leads to you talking a mile a minute and bolting for the nearest exit. I’d rather avoid all of that. Keep things simple.” His face is flushed. “I want you, Rory.”
“You certainly have a funny way of showing it.”
He moves in close, and she’s too overwhelmed. She doesn’t pull back. His mouth is warm against hers, and she steps into him, following that warmth.
-
“You kissed him!”
“Please, I beg you, bring it down a decibal. We don’t want to set the dogs off again.”
Paris continues, undeterred. “Have you lost your mind?” She shakes her head and Rory suddenly feels like her grandmother is interrogating her. “What could you possibly be thinking?”
“That kissing a boy I may possibly love in the stacks at the library is just as good as I always imagined?” Rory offers.
Paris rolls her eyes and just stands there.
Rory shifts from one foot to the other. Adjusts the strap of her book bag. “Well, it was,” she finally blurts out, defiant.
“Do I have to remind you what a mess you were after you two ‘broke up’ the last time?”
“God, Paris, this doesn’t mean anything! It was a kiss. It’s not like I’m going to actually go with him to London.”
“He asked you to go to London with him!”
Rory stalks to her bedroom, feeling like a fool. “I refuse to talk to you when you’re like this.”
-
“God, you’re pretty.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys.”
“Nope. You’re the only one that could pass for pretty. It’s that blue blood of yours.”
Logan grins at her. “Smart ass.”
“That’s also in the blood,” Rory informs him. “The better to disarm any naysayers. Of which we have many.”
“Of course. All that pretty? It’s a burden we have to bear.” He trails a finger down her stomach and she can hardly breathe. “You’re not so bad looking yourself, you know.”
She folds her pillow in half, allowing herself a better view. “Mister, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Good to know.”
She stares at the ceiling. This was not what was supposed to happen. She invited him over to tell him that it couldn’t go beyond that night in the library. She had it all staged out in her head, even a few notes jotted down during a lull in class. Only he had other plans and she wussed out. Completely. It pains her to admit it: Paris is right. She has lost her mind.
“Rory?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you thought at all about this summer?”
“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side, facing him.
“Well?”
“I can’t go.”
“Why not? Your internship doesn’t start for two weeks.”
“This – right here, that’s why. We just had sex, Logan. I seem unable to control myself around you.”
“Rory, don’t you see what amazing potential this has?”
“Okay, so what if I go? What happens after that? You’ll be there and I’ll be here.”
“Long distance relationships are hard, but there are success stories.” He tugs at her hips, pulling her close. “I’ve spent the last year wondering, and I’m sick of what if. We will make it work.”
“But we’re just starting out again. Logan, think about it. We're setting ourselves up for failure.”
“We have the telephone, video, email – hell, letters. We could write to each other, like an old-fashioned courtship.”
Rory smiles in spite of herself. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he whispers, nuzzling her neck.
“Aw, Logan, I think that may just be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she teases, finding his mouth. She hears something from the living room and she pulls away. “– Was that the door?”
Logan shrugs. “I –"
She clamps her hand over his mouth. They both hear it this time – the sound of someone moving around the kitchen. Paris is home.
“You have to go,” Rory orders, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets.
“What?” Logan watches her scramble around her bedroom. “Why?”
“Twenty questions later. Dress now.” She tosses his pants at him.
“Are you hiding this from Paris?”
“Wow. Nothing gets past you. You’re going to need to work on those investigative skills if you’re going to make it as a real newspaper man.” Rory stops, stares at him. “Why are you not getting dressed?”
“Why are you hiding this from Paris?” He looks around. “I don’t see my shirt.”
Rory finds it crumpled by her nightstand. “Here.”
“So what does Paris have against me?”
“We’re roommates, Logan. She literally had to put me back together after what happened between us last year. I mean, Mom and Lane were there, but she was with me every day. I doubt she sees this ending any better.”
“And now she hates me.”
“Again, with the astute observations. Hurry it up or you’re going out my window as is.”
“I’m dressed. Stop panicking and just breathe.”
“I don’t have time to breathe. You have to go.” She pushes him towards her window. It takes a bit of work, but she manages to get it open.
He gives her an incredulous look. “I thought you were kidding.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“You’re twenty-two years old, Rory. You can stand up to Paris Gellar.”
“Rory? Are you in there?” Paris’s voice is muffled.
Rory pleads with him, hands together, prayer-like. “Hey, Paris,” she calls out blithely.
“Could we talk?”
“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Logan grimaces, looking out the window. The apartment is on the first floor, but the bushes outside her window are thick and brambly. They were probably planted there as a deterrent to any would-be burglars.
“I’m so sorry,” Rory whispers close to his ear.
“Keep telling me that. I may believe you one day.” He carefully swings a leg over the sill. Before he falls – and it can only be called falling – he grabs her close and kisses her. “We’re not finished yet,” he promises.
-
“When is his flight?”
“Tonight at ten.”
“You’re not going to see him off?”
“No.” Rory studies Paris, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is this a test? Are you trying to sucker me into saying yes, so you can throw it back in my face?”
“Rory.”
“Don’t ‘Rory’ me. I’m serious. For the past month, you’ve been harping on me to keep away. Telling me that it could only lead to a version of Hell only Dante could imagine! And now you’re asking if I’m going to see him off?”
“I’m just trying –"
“Well don’t,” Rory growls. “Are we going to rent a movie or what?”
“I’m sorry I even asked.”
“Good.” Rory heads for the comedy section. Her humor is in serious of resuscitation. “It’s my turn to pick the movie, right?”
“Yes, and be gentle.”
Her eyes fall almost immediately on an old favorite she hasn’t watched in years. Lorelai would be dancing right about now. “I’ve got it!”
“I’m the one Hell,” Paris whimpers, glancing at the cover.
“You know you love this movie, Paris. Sylvester Stallone as a cowboy? A singing cowboy? Then there’s Dolly Parton…” Rory hugs it to her chest. “There is too much to love about this film.”
“Can we move it along? I would like to speed up the torture portion of this evening, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Rory?”
“Yeah?” She pulls out her wallet. Only one person ahead of them in line.
“You should go.”
“We decided that was a bad idea. Logan and me, I mean.”
“He’s moving to London and you’re not going to see him off, at least as far as the security check-in?”
Rory pauses, hand outstretched to give the clerk her card. “I hate you.”
“We have plenty of time.”
“It’s an international flight, Paris. There is no way we’ll make it there by eight.”
Paris jangles her keys. “You forget whose driving.”
“If I promise not to scream, you have to promise I make it there in one piece. Deal?”
“Fine, but if we miss him, you have only yourself to blame.”
-
“Hey, there.”
He turns around. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t let you fly off to London without seeing you off.” She smiles, a lump in her throat, as he slips his arm around her waist. “Surprised?”
“Pleasantly.”
“Good.” Her eyes fill with tears. “This is only temporary,” she promises. (She can’t be sure who she is trying to reassure more.) “I will come for a visit in the fall. By then you should know all the best pubs. We’ll take a daytrip into the country, some ‘shire or another. And then we’ll take a long weekend in Paris.” He wipes gently at her cheeks. “This is only temporary.”
“I know, Ace.” He kisses her on the forehead.
-
“Hhhello?”
“Oh, God, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I had to get up to answer the phone.”
“Haha,” she retorts. She glances at the clock. “It’s nearly eleven in the morning there. What are you still doing in bed?”
“I was up until four unpacking. Then Finn called.” Logan yawns loudly. “He was trapped in the bathroom of some crazy woman he picked up at a bar. (I could hear her screaming at him in Portuguese and pounding on the door with what I’m pretty sure was her high heel.).”
“Is he okay?” Rory is only mildly worried. Finn has survived worse.
“Oh, naturally. He was only calling to ask if I remembered if he was allergic to this particular kind of soap. Wanted to take a bubble bath.”
“Dear Finn,” Rory laughs, shaking her head. She listens as he yawns again. “Poor baby.”
“Yes, pity me.”
“So.” She twirls the telephone cord around her index finger. “I made the reservations today.”
She can practically hear him perk up, all the way across the Atlantic. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“When do I pick you up?”
She smiles.
End
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Logan
RATING: R
SUMMARY: He wipes gently at her cheeks. “This is only temporary.”
DISCLAIMER: All characters are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to Green Eve, as always, for the beta and the Finn suggestion, and to Angeleyez for the encouragement. Also, title comes from the song The Ghost in You by The Psychedelic Furs.
-
“Where the hell are you going?”
“Leave me alone.”
“No.”
“Get away from me.”
“Come on, Ace.”
“Don’t even start, Logan. This is the last time. I swear it.”
“Like you said the last time?”
“This time is different. I mean it this time.”
“Sure you do,” he replies sarcastically.
She grits her teeth at his tone. It would be so easy to hate him if he was always like this. But he is so much more than the arrogant jackass most of the time. It’s those very qualities, the way he can make her laugh until her sides hurt. Or the time he woke her up at four o’clock in the morning, coffee in hand, so they could watch the sunrise. They are what keep her coming back for more. Panic flutters inside her chest. How is she supposed to give him up?
“Would you just stop for a second? Let me explain?”
Good. Anger again. It overtakes the panic. “Why should I let you explain when it’s plain for all to see, Logan?” She spits out his name like a curse. “I’m a joke. You’re just having fun, being man-about-town, but I’m involved. Like involved involved. Don’t you get that? I may dabble in fun-and-carefree, but I don’t live there. Not like you.”
“Jesus, would you stop walking so fast? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
“Hey, there, Captain Oblivious, I’m not really in the mood to converse with you right now.” She rolls her eyes, breath puffing through her lips. “Humiliation does that to a girl.”
“I told you I wasn’t ready for a relationship, Rory.”
This stops her, and he barely manages to avoid colliding into her back and sending them both face-first into the grass. “Shit, Ace. Some warning next time,” he murmurs. He clutches her waist, trying to regain his balance.
She turns to face him. “I know,” she admits. “But I was stupid enough to believe that I could be that girl. God, I always do this!” Her entire body trembles with frustration. “I wanted you, so I decided to be this person. But I am so obviously not that person.” She smoothes his shirtfront; it’s only buttoned half-way up. Her mouth quirks to the side, not quite a smile; she should have known better. “I’m sorry, Logan. This isn’t your fault.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can handle just being friends with you.” She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at her feet. “And you certainly can’t handle being a boyfriend.”
He slides his hands down her shoulders, holding her by the upper arms. “I don’t want to lose you, Rory.”
She turns her face away. “That’s not up to you.”
“There has to be some middle ground.”
Rory just shakes her head, a sad smile curving her mouth.
“You pick now to go non-verbal?”
“I have to go,” she whispers, meeting his eyes. Fresh tears slip down her cheeks.
“No. No, you don’t.” Logan pulls her against his chest. “Please.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other around?” Rory hedges, but they both know it’s a lie. She will do everything she can to avoid him.
“Yeah. Maybe.” He kisses her. It is disorienting. She knows his mouth, his taste, and still she aches. She will miss the chase. “Goodbye, Rory Gilmore.”
“Goodbye, Logan Huntzberger.”
When she turns to leave this time, he doesn’t follow.
-
“Fancy running into you here.”
She glances up, eyes slightly unfocused. “Logan!” she says, a genuine smile gracing her face.
Logan offers a tight smile. He gestures at the chair across from her and she nods.
“How’ve you been?”
She shrugs. “Pretty good. You?”
“Me? I’ve been okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yep,” he replies shortly. “So, how was junior year? Everything you expected?”
“Very few surprises,” she admits, her brows drawing together in a brief frown. She studies him, glad for this chance to look at him again. “What about you? I was surprised when I found out you decided not to work on the paper this year. How did your dad take the news?”
“He wasn’t happy – at first, anyway.” He doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I promised to work for one of his newspapers after graduation. He was pleased.”
“Really?” Rory leans forward, intrigued. “I always assumed you’d try to duck that as long as possible.”
“He just bought a British newspaper, which means I’ll be living in London. It’s a trade-off.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Yeah.” He is quiet, watching her, and she fidgets under his gaze. “Rory, I – I’m sorry. About how things ended. I would gladly go back and do things differently if I could.” He clears his throat and waves his hands in an odd fashion, clearly out of sorts.
She feels awkward, straying into territory she would much rather leave behind her. “That’s not necessary, Logan, but thank –"
His eyes are unwavering. “I’ve missed your friendship a great deal, Rory.”
Glancing down at her textbook, she stares at the glossy photographs until she finds her voice again. “I’ve missed you too.”
“There’s more.” He straightens. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?” she stutters.
“For the summer. I leave the week after graduation and I would love for you to come and stay for awhile.”
Rory squeezes her eyes shut, breathing in deeply. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t, Logan. I can’t go back.” She rubs at the headache forming in the middle of her forehead. “Besides, we haven’t even seen each other in over a year.”
“Don’t give me some bullshit about us not knowing each other anymore, Rory.”
“Well it’s true, Logan. We don’t. Sometimes I wonder if it we ever did.”
“I think about you, Rory, even after all this time. That doesn’t happen to me every day. I hope it means something.”
“I don’t care what it means. I’ve moved on. You should try it.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“God! That ego of yours! It should be studied!” Rory pushes away from the table, her chair screeching against the wood flooring. She starts shoving her stuff into her book bag. “Look, I have a life. I have responsibilities. I can’t just take off on a whim like you.”
“Oh shut up.”
“Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“Yes, because I might not get a word in edgewise. You’re upset – understandably so – but that usually leads to you talking a mile a minute and bolting for the nearest exit. I’d rather avoid all of that. Keep things simple.” His face is flushed. “I want you, Rory.”
“You certainly have a funny way of showing it.”
He moves in close, and she’s too overwhelmed. She doesn’t pull back. His mouth is warm against hers, and she steps into him, following that warmth.
-
“You kissed him!”
“Please, I beg you, bring it down a decibal. We don’t want to set the dogs off again.”
Paris continues, undeterred. “Have you lost your mind?” She shakes her head and Rory suddenly feels like her grandmother is interrogating her. “What could you possibly be thinking?”
“That kissing a boy I may possibly love in the stacks at the library is just as good as I always imagined?” Rory offers.
Paris rolls her eyes and just stands there.
Rory shifts from one foot to the other. Adjusts the strap of her book bag. “Well, it was,” she finally blurts out, defiant.
“Do I have to remind you what a mess you were after you two ‘broke up’ the last time?”
“God, Paris, this doesn’t mean anything! It was a kiss. It’s not like I’m going to actually go with him to London.”
“He asked you to go to London with him!”
Rory stalks to her bedroom, feeling like a fool. “I refuse to talk to you when you’re like this.”
-
“God, you’re pretty.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys.”
“Nope. You’re the only one that could pass for pretty. It’s that blue blood of yours.”
Logan grins at her. “Smart ass.”
“That’s also in the blood,” Rory informs him. “The better to disarm any naysayers. Of which we have many.”
“Of course. All that pretty? It’s a burden we have to bear.” He trails a finger down her stomach and she can hardly breathe. “You’re not so bad looking yourself, you know.”
She folds her pillow in half, allowing herself a better view. “Mister, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Good to know.”
She stares at the ceiling. This was not what was supposed to happen. She invited him over to tell him that it couldn’t go beyond that night in the library. She had it all staged out in her head, even a few notes jotted down during a lull in class. Only he had other plans and she wussed out. Completely. It pains her to admit it: Paris is right. She has lost her mind.
“Rory?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you thought at all about this summer?”
“Yeah.” She rolls onto her side, facing him.
“Well?”
“I can’t go.”
“Why not? Your internship doesn’t start for two weeks.”
“This – right here, that’s why. We just had sex, Logan. I seem unable to control myself around you.”
“Rory, don’t you see what amazing potential this has?”
“Okay, so what if I go? What happens after that? You’ll be there and I’ll be here.”
“Long distance relationships are hard, but there are success stories.” He tugs at her hips, pulling her close. “I’ve spent the last year wondering, and I’m sick of what if. We will make it work.”
“But we’re just starting out again. Logan, think about it. We're setting ourselves up for failure.”
“We have the telephone, video, email – hell, letters. We could write to each other, like an old-fashioned courtship.”
Rory smiles in spite of herself. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he whispers, nuzzling her neck.
“Aw, Logan, I think that may just be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she teases, finding his mouth. She hears something from the living room and she pulls away. “– Was that the door?”
Logan shrugs. “I –"
She clamps her hand over his mouth. They both hear it this time – the sound of someone moving around the kitchen. Paris is home.
“You have to go,” Rory orders, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets.
“What?” Logan watches her scramble around her bedroom. “Why?”
“Twenty questions later. Dress now.” She tosses his pants at him.
“Are you hiding this from Paris?”
“Wow. Nothing gets past you. You’re going to need to work on those investigative skills if you’re going to make it as a real newspaper man.” Rory stops, stares at him. “Why are you not getting dressed?”
“Why are you hiding this from Paris?” He looks around. “I don’t see my shirt.”
Rory finds it crumpled by her nightstand. “Here.”
“So what does Paris have against me?”
“We’re roommates, Logan. She literally had to put me back together after what happened between us last year. I mean, Mom and Lane were there, but she was with me every day. I doubt she sees this ending any better.”
“And now she hates me.”
“Again, with the astute observations. Hurry it up or you’re going out my window as is.”
“I’m dressed. Stop panicking and just breathe.”
“I don’t have time to breathe. You have to go.” She pushes him towards her window. It takes a bit of work, but she manages to get it open.
He gives her an incredulous look. “I thought you were kidding.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“You’re twenty-two years old, Rory. You can stand up to Paris Gellar.”
“Rory? Are you in there?” Paris’s voice is muffled.
Rory pleads with him, hands together, prayer-like. “Hey, Paris,” she calls out blithely.
“Could we talk?”
“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Logan grimaces, looking out the window. The apartment is on the first floor, but the bushes outside her window are thick and brambly. They were probably planted there as a deterrent to any would-be burglars.
“I’m so sorry,” Rory whispers close to his ear.
“Keep telling me that. I may believe you one day.” He carefully swings a leg over the sill. Before he falls – and it can only be called falling – he grabs her close and kisses her. “We’re not finished yet,” he promises.
-
“When is his flight?”
“Tonight at ten.”
“You’re not going to see him off?”
“No.” Rory studies Paris, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Is this a test? Are you trying to sucker me into saying yes, so you can throw it back in my face?”
“Rory.”
“Don’t ‘Rory’ me. I’m serious. For the past month, you’ve been harping on me to keep away. Telling me that it could only lead to a version of Hell only Dante could imagine! And now you’re asking if I’m going to see him off?”
“I’m just trying –"
“Well don’t,” Rory growls. “Are we going to rent a movie or what?”
“I’m sorry I even asked.”
“Good.” Rory heads for the comedy section. Her humor is in serious of resuscitation. “It’s my turn to pick the movie, right?”
“Yes, and be gentle.”
Her eyes fall almost immediately on an old favorite she hasn’t watched in years. Lorelai would be dancing right about now. “I’ve got it!”
“I’m the one Hell,” Paris whimpers, glancing at the cover.
“You know you love this movie, Paris. Sylvester Stallone as a cowboy? A singing cowboy? Then there’s Dolly Parton…” Rory hugs it to her chest. “There is too much to love about this film.”
“Can we move it along? I would like to speed up the torture portion of this evening, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Rory?”
“Yeah?” She pulls out her wallet. Only one person ahead of them in line.
“You should go.”
“We decided that was a bad idea. Logan and me, I mean.”
“He’s moving to London and you’re not going to see him off, at least as far as the security check-in?”
Rory pauses, hand outstretched to give the clerk her card. “I hate you.”
“We have plenty of time.”
“It’s an international flight, Paris. There is no way we’ll make it there by eight.”
Paris jangles her keys. “You forget whose driving.”
“If I promise not to scream, you have to promise I make it there in one piece. Deal?”
“Fine, but if we miss him, you have only yourself to blame.”
-
“Hey, there.”
He turns around. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t let you fly off to London without seeing you off.” She smiles, a lump in her throat, as he slips his arm around her waist. “Surprised?”
“Pleasantly.”
“Good.” Her eyes fill with tears. “This is only temporary,” she promises. (She can’t be sure who she is trying to reassure more.) “I will come for a visit in the fall. By then you should know all the best pubs. We’ll take a daytrip into the country, some ‘shire or another. And then we’ll take a long weekend in Paris.” He wipes gently at her cheeks. “This is only temporary.”
“I know, Ace.” He kisses her on the forehead.
-
“Hhhello?”
“Oh, God, did I wake you?”
“Nah, I had to get up to answer the phone.”
“Haha,” she retorts. She glances at the clock. “It’s nearly eleven in the morning there. What are you still doing in bed?”
“I was up until four unpacking. Then Finn called.” Logan yawns loudly. “He was trapped in the bathroom of some crazy woman he picked up at a bar. (I could hear her screaming at him in Portuguese and pounding on the door with what I’m pretty sure was her high heel.).”
“Is he okay?” Rory is only mildly worried. Finn has survived worse.
“Oh, naturally. He was only calling to ask if I remembered if he was allergic to this particular kind of soap. Wanted to take a bubble bath.”
“Dear Finn,” Rory laughs, shaking her head. She listens as he yawns again. “Poor baby.”
“Yes, pity me.”
“So.” She twirls the telephone cord around her index finger. “I made the reservations today.”
She can practically hear him perk up, all the way across the Atlantic. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“When do I pick you up?”
She smiles.
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Date: 2009-05-27 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-30 05:12 am (UTC)