Fic: Fade to Color, RoryLogan (GG)
Jan. 1st, 2005 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubykatewritingTITLE: Fade to Color
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Logan
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Even now, it terrifies her, because she’s never been that good with loving someone.
DISCLAIMER: All characters - save a couple of originals - are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To Green Eve for the beta. Title (and one line) was inspired by the Death Cab song A Lack of Color.
-
She doesn't read in the park anymore. She doesn't read much of anything these days.
Eli toddles over, holding something in both hands. “Mommy, here!” He drops a rock into her proffered palm. He grins proudly.
“Thank you, baby.” Rory sets it on the bench next to her purse. Sighing, she wonders if she’ll be able to drop it on their way out. He has a whole shelf full of rocks at home.
The sun is bright today, finally chasing away the persistent gloom of winter. This is the first time in weeks she’s been able to bring Eli for some playtime. He has been moody, trapped in the house because of stormy weather.
“I come bearing coffee.”
She squints into the sunlight. Shielding her eyes, she can barely make him out. Logan holds out a large to-go cup. The aroma hits her nose and her mouth starts watering. “Bless you,” she breathes, accepting it.
“God, he’s big,” Logan comments, taking a seat beside her. “I was only away a few weeks.”
Rory shrugs. “He’s nearly three.” She glances at Logan. “What brings you here?”
“Finn told me you come here some times. When I didn’t get an answer at your apartment, I figured I would check.”
“Your evasive skills are slipping, Huntzberger.”
He eyes her for several minutes, his knee jiggling. She can hear the change in his pocket clink. He turns sideways on the bench, his arm stretched out along the back. She can feel him through her jacket. After all these years, he has yet to grasp the concept of personal space.
She sighs, keeping an eye on Eli. He is sitting on one of the horses with the giant springs underneath, bouncing. It rocks back and forth, weathered a dull pink. “I’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. You let me know when you’re ready.”
“What would you say to us getting married?”
She lets out a burst of laughter. “What?” Shock settles over her features and she looks at him, gaze intently searching his. “Are you on something?!”
Logan has the audacity to smirk. “Come on, Ace, you know that’s not my style.”
“Sharp blow to the head, maybe? Where did you jet off to this time? India? Iran? They don’t care for rich white boys from America, or so I hear.”
“Rory, I’m serious.” He motions at Eli. “I miss him. He’s growing up and I’m missing all of it. I want to be with him every day.”
He’s serious, she realizes with a start. “No, Logan, no.” She swallows, fear clutching at her belly. “I’m calling bullshit. You make choices. You chose to go gallivanting off to God-knows-where instead of sticking around.”
“I want you, Rory.”
“What?” She can’t breathe. The hits are coming too fast.
“I’ve always wanted you. This was never my choice, our little arrangement.” His lip curls with distaste as he says the word. “I’ve let you call the shots for too long.”
“So, what? You think you can just come here, out of the blue, and say ‘let’s get married’ and I’ll say yes, just like that?”
“This doesn’t have to be such a big fucking deal. Jesus,you always have to argue.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it so much when we were fucking on a regular basis.”
“Hey!” Logan’s face reddens with anger. “Goddammit! We were in love. I won’t let you belittle it for the sake of winning an argument.”
He’s right. She covers her face with her hands. They’re shaking. She’s shaking. “I can’t deal with this right now, Logan,” she says, and it comes out as a plea. She grabs her purse and hurries across the park to get Eli. He protests when she pulls him off the horse. “No, Mommy. Noooo!” he whines pitifully, batting at her hands.
“I’m sorry, Eli, but we have to go.” She settles him on her hip. He’s getting too big for her to carry him. “Whoa,” she breathes, staggering a bit. “Eli, you’re getting to be such a big boy.”
He brightens. “Yep, I’m a big boy. I got Spider-man underwear.”
“Hey, there big guy.” Logan comes up behind her.
“Daddy!”
Logan takes him from her arms, holding him easily. “What’s this I hear about Spider-man underwear?”
“Uncle Finn told me if I tell when I have to pee or poop, then I can wear underwear like a big boy,” he tells him.
His Rs are soft. Logan smiles. “Really? That Uncle Finn – he’s a smart guy.”
Eli chuckles. “Uncle Finn is funny.”
“How about I help you and your mom to the car?”
This dampens Eli’s good mood. They’re still leaving. He shrugs. “Okay.”
Rory wants to throttle Logan as she follows him to the parking lot. He doesn’t fight fair.
-
“He asked you to marry him? And he meant it?” Lane is incredulous.
“As far as I could tell, yeah. He seemed serious this time.” Rory switches the phone to her other ear as she wanders around the living room picking up toys. She tosses them into the chest she uses as a coffee table.
“So what did you say?”
“No. Of course no.” That task completed, she falls onto the couch, propping her feet up on the top of the headrest. She yawns. “I just don’t see that being the end of the conversation.”
“This is Logan Huntzberger,” Lane agrees.
“Exactly.” Rory stares at the ceiling, trying once again to wrap her mind around the day’s events. Even with repeated viewings, it’s still a mass of confusion, clogging her brain until all functions whir to a stop, and she’s spun back to square one. She groans in frustration. ”Before my head explodes, tell me about this manager guy.”
“Well he wants to sign us. Brian checked him out. He’s legit and from a pretty big time firm, apparently. According to one of Brian’s sources –“
“– Of which he has many –"
“After this long, yeah. The source says we should feel stoked this guy is even giving us the time of day, let alone the one to approach us. Zach is, of course, wary. He still has to mull it over, but we’ve put our foot down this time. He has until tomorrow morning.”
“You think he’ll make it?”
“Doubtful, but Brian and I feel a great sense of accomplishment.”
“Well, it sounds like you had a productive day.”
“I did, I did.” Lane sighs into the phone, then says something muffled to someone on her end. “I have to go now. Zack is ready to go to bed.”
Rory grins but affects a petulant tone. “Oh, all right. Be sure to tell him it’s very un-rock-and-roll of him to hit the hay before ten on a Sunday.”
“That’s what I keep telling him, but then he goes into this whole long spiel about him being a dedicated rock-and-roller. He has to give it his all. The only way to accomplish ‘his all’ is by getting at least eight hours of sleep a night.”
“He has officially turned into an old man.”
“It’s the price you have to pay when you fall for the older man.”
-
It’s late. She slides her key into the deadbolt and unlocks the front door. Finn will probably kill her. Once again, she has ruined his evening of debauchery. She eases the door open. “Hey, I’m home,” she calls up the stairs.
She can hear the TV as she sets her purse and keys on the foyer table. The mail lies there unopened; she flips through it quickly. Bills and more bills. If only she could survive without food or electricity or a roof over her head, she would be a rich woman.
She kicks off her high heels and starts up the stairs, flipping through the new issue of Entertainment Weekly. Snark, she is in desperate need of snark. “Sorry about tonight. It took us forever to get the issue ready –” She stops at the top of the stairs.
Finn smiles apologetically. “Hey, Rory.”
Logan is sprawled out beside Eli on the living room floor, their matching blond heads close together. Eli looks up from the storybook. “Mommy! You’re home!” He is on his feet, barreling toward her.
Rory braces herself against the wall; Eli has a habit of using her legs as breaks. He wraps his arms around her thighs, hugging her with all his might. Her fingers slip through his silky hair. “Hi, baby,” she murmurs.
“Hey,” she says to Finn, still too stunned to come up with anything else. Logan glances up briefly. He juts out his chin by way of greeting, then returns his attention to the book.
“Well, I’m off, then,” Finn announces loudly, grabbing for his jacket. He strides towards her. “Sorry, he just showed up,” he explains under his breath.
Rory shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
He picks up Eli. “I shall see you soon, Elias. Take care of your mother for me.”
Eli nods, his dark eyes serious. “Okay, Uncle Finn.”
Finn sets him back on his feet and turns to Rory once again.“I’ll call you later,” he promises, giving her a quick kiss goodbye.
“Be safe.” She crouches down in front of her son. “Sweetie, why don’t you start getting ready for bed, okay? Go get in your jammies and I’ll be there in a second to tuck you in.”
Eli frowns, looking back at Logan. “I have to?”
“Yes, it’s late. Way past your bedtime. Don’t forget to brush your teeth, either. I’ll be doing a breath-check.” He juts out his lips but heads to his room. She waits until she can hear the scrape of him pulling out his pajama drawer. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
“Visiting my son, and since it’s been awhile, I thought I would catch up with Finn, too.” His eyes sparkle but she’s not entirely sure it’s with mirth. “Killed two birds with one stone.”
“That’s efficient of you.”
He closes the book and rises. “You and Finn seem close,” he remarks. He walks over to the bookcase and slides the book into place. He turns, shoving his hands into his pockets, a pose that always annoyed her. It was so … annoying.
“I see him nearly every day, Logan. He takes care of Eli for me whenever I need him to.” She gives him a look. “Stop it. Just stop it. It is not like that.”
“But you were once.”
She scoffs. “That was ages ago and you know it.”
“It’s easy to slip back into bad habits, especially when you see him so often.”
“You can leave right now if you’re going to play the jealous card. Trust me, if you want to go tit for tat, be prepared to lose.”
He groans loudly, rubbing his face roughly. “Shit, this is not how I wanted this to happen.”
Rory is silent.
“Rory, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“I show up, expecting to find you, only Finn is here. And Eli is so comfortable with him and then you come home.” He looks at her grimly. “I felt like I was walking in on a family.”
She rolls her eyes, but gives his hand a gentle tug. “So what if we are a family? You can be a part of it. It’s easy, really. Just the one requirement: you have to show up.”
He smiles, flushing with embarrassment. “I miss you, Rory.”
She preens. “I am totally missable, aren’t I?”
“That isn’t even a word.”
“See, new words have to be made up to describe me.” She laughs, her cheeks rosy.
He looks at her, bemused. “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful. Otherwise that crazy streak of yours would scare them off.”
“See, you say crazy. I say ahead of her time.”
“A tamayto, tamahto kind of situation?”
“I guess so.”
“I’m waiting!” Eli calls out.
Rory meets Logan’s eyes. “You want to help tuck him in?”
He tries for nonchalance, but the wide grin ruins the illusion. “Sure.”
“What story do you want?”
“Where the Wild Things Are!”
Rory scans the shelves, running her fingers over the skinny spines. Eli has amassed quite a collection. Logan reaches around her, placing a hand at the small of her back for balance. He pulls out the book.
He can’t quite meet her eyes. “Found it.”
She can still feel the imprint of his hand. “Thanks,” she says weakly.
They both start at the same time, nearly colliding.
“Let’s try that again,” Logan jokes, but he makes sure to let her go first.
Rory leads the way down the hall. Eli’s room is towards the end, right next to hers. She set it up that way when he was a baby for convenience. It still is, when Eli has the occasional nightmare. Now, she becomes acutely aware of the hanger full of bras dangling in her doorway.
“All right, kiddo,” Rory says. “We got the book. You ready for bed?”
Eli does a full-body shake, knees popping up under the covers. This will be the millionth time Rory has read him Where the Wild Things Are, could recite it from memory, but he never tires of it. “Mommy, come lie beside me.” He pats the bed. “Here.”
“I’m coming.” She stretches out, resting her shoulders against the headboard. He snuggles closer, and she slips her arm under his neck. He always has to see the pictures. “Open up,” she requests and he opens his mouth. She sniffs. “That’s my boy.”
Logan watches, still standing by, the visitor waiting to be welcomed. Rory whispers into Eli’s ear; and his eyes travel to his father. “Come on, Daddy. Here-here,” he urges impatiently.
The expression on Logan’s face is indescribable. He lies down on the other side of the bed. Rory opens the book and flips to the first page. Eli points at the first drawing, hitting Logan in the chest with the back of his hand. He points. “Look, Daddy, that’s Max.”
Rory smiles at Logan over Eli’s head. He mouths, Thank you.
-
Rory takes a sip of wine. Logan is preparing dinner, and she finds she is much like her mother: she loves to watch a man cook her food. This is the fourth time in a week. He has grown comfortable in her kitchen; he knows where the plates are and which one is the silverware drawer without looking. Her stomach flutters, and for the time being, it’s the good kind of butterflies. The kind that always accompanies the early days of romance. “You know, it occurred to me that you’ve been over a lot lately.”
He leans over the open oven door, slicing into a chicken cutlet to check if it’s done. White all the way through. Tugging on an oven mitt, he grasps the baking dish and shuts the door. Efficiently, he transfers the chicken to a large serving dish. “That your idea of subtle?”
“I wasn’t going for subtle, Logan. The opposite, in fact.”
“Well, I figure I should keep close until my proposal is accepted.” He leans over and pulls open the oven again. There is an entire baking sheet full of crinkle-cut vegetables brushed with olive oil and rosemary. He browned them earlier in the broiler. As soon as he turns his back, she sneaks one into her mouth. He turns his head, keeping an eye on her peripherally. She feigns nonchalance, raising her glass to her mouth as if to take a sip. Instead she uses it to cover her chewing. If he catches her, there will be hell to pay. He has very particular rules about eating during preparation. Naturally, he and Sookie get along famously.
She swallows, pressing her fingers to her mouth. The veggies are too hot. “And why is that?” she asks, clearing her throat. That last part burns its way down her esophagus.
“The better to remind you how useful I am,” he replies, clicking off the broiler. “Eli, buddy, it’s time for dinner. Go wash up.” He grabs a pot from the back burner, where he’s been reducing a dark mahogany balsamic glaze. He drizzles it over the cutlets. “What are you waiting for?” he asks her. “You need to wash up too.”
Chastised, she sets down her wine and walks over to the sink. “So, how is it you can BS like that?” she asks, working the soap into a lather. She rinses then turns off the faucet.
He tosses her a towel and she dries her hands. Carefully, he scoops up the broiled vegetables and arranges them alongside the chicken. “I’m the son of a newspaper man, Rory. It’s in the blood.”
“That’s true,” she concedes, following him into the dining area. Eli stands by his chair, and as soon as he sees Rory, he holds up his hands for inspection. She checks, looking at his fingernails. “Good job. You are cleared for take-off,” and she swings him up into his booster seat. He squeals happily, his eyes bright with mirth.
Logan doesn’t sit until Rory takes her place opposite Eli. “Let’s eat,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
“Finally,” Rory groans.
Logan wags a finger at her. “Don’t even start. I saw you spiriting away vegetables whenever you thought I wasn’t looking.”
She pouts. “Well, I burned my tongue. They were too hot.”
“They were just out of the oven.”
“I thought you were just keeping them warm in there.”
He takes Eli’s plate, automatically cutting up his chicken and veggies into bite-size pieces. “It was 375 degrees, Rory. I was cooking chicken.” He places it back in front of Eli. “Eat up, Bud.”
Rory hands him her plate. Logan gives her the second biggest cutlet and a hearty portion of the vegetables. “Since you like them so much,” he mutters and she laughs.
She laughs. “They’re good.”
“To think, just a few years ago, I would have had to force-feed them to you.”
“I got into the habit when I was pregnant with Eli.”
“So I have you to thank?” Logan smiles at his son, who looks up, confused. “You worked miracles, big man.”
“Can I have a turtle?”
Logan glances at Rory. “What?”
She lifts a shoulder. “One of the little girls at his daycare – her older brother has a pet turtle. We went to her birthday party a few days ago, and he hasn’t stop talking about it ever since.”
“You want a turtle?”
Eli nods. “Herbert. That’s his name.”
“The older brother’s turtle?”
“No, my turtle.”
“Ah.” Logan turns to Rory. “What’s the verdict?”
She stares at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”
-
Logan grins, letting his head fall against the back of the loveseat. “Remember the night he was born?"
“Vaguely. There was a lot of pain involved.” Rory giggles suddenly. “I do recall you nearly passing out when you saw the epidural needle.”
Logan visibly pales; he makes no effort to deny it. “You didn’t see it.”
Rory laughs; his expression is almost identical to the one he wore that night. Her pillow slips down, leaving her head at an odd angle. She shifts around on the sofa, trying to get comfortable again, when something jabs her in the back. She sits up, rooting under the cushions. She scrapes her knuckles on something cold and metal. Hissing, she yanks her wounded hand out, blowing on it.
“What are you doing over there?”
She finally captures her quarry. “Jesus, stupid matchbox car!” she grumbles, tossing it to the floor.
“Is your hand okay?”
“It’s not bleeding, which is always a good sign.”
He sits down beside her. “Let me see it.”
“Logan, it’s nothing. Trust me; the toys have done much worse.” She leans towards him, whispering, “They don’t like being put up at night. It ruins all their fun.”
He is so close. In her attempt to be funny, she has put them only inches apart. It has been years since she could count individual eyelashes, feel his breath on her face. His eyes drift to her mouth and she licks her lips in response.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
“You used to be a man of action,” she replies cheekily; even though, in her head she is screaming, Abort! Abort!
The spicy mint of his tea tingles on her tongue. She sighs, falling back onto her pillow. He follows her down, practically lying on top of her. It is a strange but familiar sensation. More, she wants more of this, of him. Most of her friends (and her mother) thought it was his lifestyle that attracted her, finally reeled her in once and for all. But it was this. His kisses. The way he touches her. He loves her.
He moves between her legs and she freezes. He pulls back a fraction. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
Rory shuts her eyes, frustrated. “Yes and no,” she admits honestly.
He lifts away from her. “I can go –"
She grabs the front of his sweater. “No. I don’t want you to.”
“What do you want me to do here, Rory? We’re quickly running out of options.” He untangles himself from her. His shoulders are bunched up.
“I know!” she cries, exasperated. She scoots back, sitting up, just barely missing knocking skulls. Holding her knees to her chest, she meets his eyes, heart in her throat. “I want you to come with me to my room and make love with me.”
For a moment, she’s afraid he’s going to reject her. Then he stands, his gaze unwavering as he holds out his hand to hers. “You jump, I jump, right?”
-
She hasn’t woken up beside Logan in nearly four years. She stacks her hands beneath her cheek, the better to study him in the early morning quiet. The sun loves him, slipping over him. It bathes him in the clearest light. He looks angelic and his son is no different. From the first time she laid eyes on Eli, she could see his father in him.
It was so terribly simple, falling in love with Logan Huntzberger. Which made it all the more terrifying. He didn’t fit into her plan. After everything that happened with Dean, she had decided the single life was the one for her. She wanted to buckle down, write for the paper, go to class. Be a normal college student. Boys only complicated things and made her feel messy and out of control. Caused her to do things so out-of-character, she still gets hot with shame to this day.
Logan didn’t bother with her carefully scripted life. He forced his way in, challenged all of her pre-conceived notions, about herself, about who she was. Even about being a reporter. And he did it all so easily.
They had one year, an amazing year. They lived in a tiny apartment off campus with creaky pipes and a slanted wood floor. Their families couldn’t understand why they chose it, of all the apartments in Hartford. It wasn’t like either of them was poor. They both loved it was all they could say. At night, Rory would sit out on the fire escape listening to the neighborhood kids playing down on the street below. He would come home and join her. They would share a glass of wine, or a beer. It was wonderful, the casual flow of their life together. There were fights – big ones that had neighbors complaining – but there was peace as well and comfortable quiet. For all the excitement of their early days, they settled easily into love.
Then she discovered she was pregnant over Christmas break her senior year. Everything changed. She felt her life, her goals, slipping through her fingers. Scared, she packed a bag and ran away to Stars Hollow. Her mother was disappointed in her. It wasn’t like she was sixteen years old. Rory had a good life. There was a man back in Hartford who loved her, would take care of her and their child.
“Rory, you need to go home,” Lorelai ordered after one day of her wallowing. “You’ve had time to deal with it. Now you have to go tell Logan he’s going to be a father.”
For the first time, Rory realized that home was no longer in Stars Hollow. Her childhood room wasn’t a safe haven from the world anymore. Looking around, she felt pathetic hiding out. She was going to be a mother. There wasn’t time for that anymore.
She knew the cliché going in. There is no love like the love of a mother for her child. When he finally came, she realized nothing else mattered, because finally she knew what true love was. Her love for Eli is an ache inside her chest. Sometimes she feels as if her heart will break from the intensity of it. Her son is the love of her life. Even now, it terrifies her, because she’s never been that good with loving someone. Every significant relationship she has ever had (albeit limited in number) has fallen apart in spectacular fashion.
It was only Logan who stuck around afterwards, to view the carnage of their relationship with her. He was the only one who took her as she was, baggage and all. Never once put her on a pedestal, nor did he ever try to fix her. Maybe that was why she didn’t tell him she was pregnant until after she broke up with him.
“Hey,” he murmurs now, stretching his arms overhead. He rolls his head back, then to either side. His neck pops a couple of times. He hasn’t changed a bit. He looks at her through half-closed lids. “What are you thinking about?”
“Us, back then.”
He yawns loudly. “The madcap adventures of Ace and Huntzberger, or the later years?”
“The later years.” A gentle smile curves her mouth. “Those were my favorite.”
Logan’s eyes close and she thinks he’s fallen back to sleep. “Mine too,” he tells her, taking her hand in his.
-
He kisses her shoulder. “I’ve missed this,” he murmurs.
She turns her head to look at him. “Me too.”
“I think we should make this an every day thing.”
“You want to move in?”
His finger traces the curve of her cheek. “No, I want to marry you.”
Her stomach drops. She shifts up on her elbows and pulls her knees up under her. “Logan, we’ve already talked about this.”
“This isn’t the same as before.”
“What, you think sticking around for three whole months is supposed to change my mind?”
“Rory, we’re good together. This feels good.”
“That’s not a reason to get married.”
“How about our son?”
“Please, Logan, this is not the 1950s.”
“No, it isn’t, but call me a sucker for tradition. I want to be married to the mother of my child. I want her to be the mother of all of my children.”
Rory pales. “Now we’re having more kids?”
Logan rises into a sitting position. “Jeez, Rory, would you just listen to reason?”
“This has everything to do with reason. It will not go well. We’ll end up hating each other, and you won’t be there for Eli like you are now. I can’t be the one who causes his father to leave.”
“I’m not your father, Rory. One of these days you’re going to have to remember that.”
“God, Logan, don’t you think it would be easier if that was it?” Rory shakes her head. “I’m not afraid of you leaving. You weren’t the one who left. I was. I left you – us. I have always chosen to run.”
“You were scared.”
“And I’m scared now. Eli is my son and I love him so much. But there was a time when I would I look at him and I’d wonder what my life would be like without him.” She curls in on herself. “That’s not what a mother should think about. Ever. It’s not what my mom thought about me. She never contemplated running. What if I’m him? What if I’m my father?”
He shakes his head. “You aren’t. You stayed.”
Rory refuses to believe it. “But I left. I left you. God, I loved you so much, Logan.”
He lies down beside her, their faces only a breath apart. “You told me once that if I wanted to be in this family, all I had to do was show up. Don’t you see it? You show up, Rory. You’re here when he wakes up and you make sure he has a bedtime story every night.” He brushes her hair back from her face. “So what if you have the urge to run every once in awhile? The difference is you stay.”
“Sometimes I’m afraid it’s a very small distinction.”
“Fuck that. It’s a huge fucking distinction.” He forces her to sit up, gives her a shake to get her attention. “Rory, I never gave you a reason to stay. I never once asked you to.”
Tears burn her eyes. He’s blurry as he moves in, but as soon as his lips touch hers, she feels herself soften. “Logan,” she whispers, pulling him into her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Choose me, Rory, and I’ll choose you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
End
AUTHOR: rubykate
PAIRING: Rory/Logan
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Even now, it terrifies her, because she’s never been that good with loving someone.
DISCLAIMER: All characters - save a couple of originals - are the creations of others. I am only borrowing them. No harm intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To Green Eve for the beta. Title (and one line) was inspired by the Death Cab song A Lack of Color.
-
She doesn't read in the park anymore. She doesn't read much of anything these days.
Eli toddles over, holding something in both hands. “Mommy, here!” He drops a rock into her proffered palm. He grins proudly.
“Thank you, baby.” Rory sets it on the bench next to her purse. Sighing, she wonders if she’ll be able to drop it on their way out. He has a whole shelf full of rocks at home.
The sun is bright today, finally chasing away the persistent gloom of winter. This is the first time in weeks she’s been able to bring Eli for some playtime. He has been moody, trapped in the house because of stormy weather.
“I come bearing coffee.”
She squints into the sunlight. Shielding her eyes, she can barely make him out. Logan holds out a large to-go cup. The aroma hits her nose and her mouth starts watering. “Bless you,” she breathes, accepting it.
“God, he’s big,” Logan comments, taking a seat beside her. “I was only away a few weeks.”
Rory shrugs. “He’s nearly three.” She glances at Logan. “What brings you here?”
“Finn told me you come here some times. When I didn’t get an answer at your apartment, I figured I would check.”
“Your evasive skills are slipping, Huntzberger.”
He eyes her for several minutes, his knee jiggling. She can hear the change in his pocket clink. He turns sideways on the bench, his arm stretched out along the back. She can feel him through her jacket. After all these years, he has yet to grasp the concept of personal space.
She sighs, keeping an eye on Eli. He is sitting on one of the horses with the giant springs underneath, bouncing. It rocks back and forth, weathered a dull pink. “I’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes. You let me know when you’re ready.”
“What would you say to us getting married?”
She lets out a burst of laughter. “What?” Shock settles over her features and she looks at him, gaze intently searching his. “Are you on something?!”
Logan has the audacity to smirk. “Come on, Ace, you know that’s not my style.”
“Sharp blow to the head, maybe? Where did you jet off to this time? India? Iran? They don’t care for rich white boys from America, or so I hear.”
“Rory, I’m serious.” He motions at Eli. “I miss him. He’s growing up and I’m missing all of it. I want to be with him every day.”
He’s serious, she realizes with a start. “No, Logan, no.” She swallows, fear clutching at her belly. “I’m calling bullshit. You make choices. You chose to go gallivanting off to God-knows-where instead of sticking around.”
“I want you, Rory.”
“What?” She can’t breathe. The hits are coming too fast.
“I’ve always wanted you. This was never my choice, our little arrangement.” His lip curls with distaste as he says the word. “I’ve let you call the shots for too long.”
“So, what? You think you can just come here, out of the blue, and say ‘let’s get married’ and I’ll say yes, just like that?”
“This doesn’t have to be such a big fucking deal. Jesus,you always have to argue.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it so much when we were fucking on a regular basis.”
“Hey!” Logan’s face reddens with anger. “Goddammit! We were in love. I won’t let you belittle it for the sake of winning an argument.”
He’s right. She covers her face with her hands. They’re shaking. She’s shaking. “I can’t deal with this right now, Logan,” she says, and it comes out as a plea. She grabs her purse and hurries across the park to get Eli. He protests when she pulls him off the horse. “No, Mommy. Noooo!” he whines pitifully, batting at her hands.
“I’m sorry, Eli, but we have to go.” She settles him on her hip. He’s getting too big for her to carry him. “Whoa,” she breathes, staggering a bit. “Eli, you’re getting to be such a big boy.”
He brightens. “Yep, I’m a big boy. I got Spider-man underwear.”
“Hey, there big guy.” Logan comes up behind her.
“Daddy!”
Logan takes him from her arms, holding him easily. “What’s this I hear about Spider-man underwear?”
“Uncle Finn told me if I tell when I have to pee or poop, then I can wear underwear like a big boy,” he tells him.
His Rs are soft. Logan smiles. “Really? That Uncle Finn – he’s a smart guy.”
Eli chuckles. “Uncle Finn is funny.”
“How about I help you and your mom to the car?”
This dampens Eli’s good mood. They’re still leaving. He shrugs. “Okay.”
Rory wants to throttle Logan as she follows him to the parking lot. He doesn’t fight fair.
-
“He asked you to marry him? And he meant it?” Lane is incredulous.
“As far as I could tell, yeah. He seemed serious this time.” Rory switches the phone to her other ear as she wanders around the living room picking up toys. She tosses them into the chest she uses as a coffee table.
“So what did you say?”
“No. Of course no.” That task completed, she falls onto the couch, propping her feet up on the top of the headrest. She yawns. “I just don’t see that being the end of the conversation.”
“This is Logan Huntzberger,” Lane agrees.
“Exactly.” Rory stares at the ceiling, trying once again to wrap her mind around the day’s events. Even with repeated viewings, it’s still a mass of confusion, clogging her brain until all functions whir to a stop, and she’s spun back to square one. She groans in frustration. ”Before my head explodes, tell me about this manager guy.”
“Well he wants to sign us. Brian checked him out. He’s legit and from a pretty big time firm, apparently. According to one of Brian’s sources –“
“– Of which he has many –"
“After this long, yeah. The source says we should feel stoked this guy is even giving us the time of day, let alone the one to approach us. Zach is, of course, wary. He still has to mull it over, but we’ve put our foot down this time. He has until tomorrow morning.”
“You think he’ll make it?”
“Doubtful, but Brian and I feel a great sense of accomplishment.”
“Well, it sounds like you had a productive day.”
“I did, I did.” Lane sighs into the phone, then says something muffled to someone on her end. “I have to go now. Zack is ready to go to bed.”
Rory grins but affects a petulant tone. “Oh, all right. Be sure to tell him it’s very un-rock-and-roll of him to hit the hay before ten on a Sunday.”
“That’s what I keep telling him, but then he goes into this whole long spiel about him being a dedicated rock-and-roller. He has to give it his all. The only way to accomplish ‘his all’ is by getting at least eight hours of sleep a night.”
“He has officially turned into an old man.”
“It’s the price you have to pay when you fall for the older man.”
-
It’s late. She slides her key into the deadbolt and unlocks the front door. Finn will probably kill her. Once again, she has ruined his evening of debauchery. She eases the door open. “Hey, I’m home,” she calls up the stairs.
She can hear the TV as she sets her purse and keys on the foyer table. The mail lies there unopened; she flips through it quickly. Bills and more bills. If only she could survive without food or electricity or a roof over her head, she would be a rich woman.
She kicks off her high heels and starts up the stairs, flipping through the new issue of Entertainment Weekly. Snark, she is in desperate need of snark. “Sorry about tonight. It took us forever to get the issue ready –” She stops at the top of the stairs.
Finn smiles apologetically. “Hey, Rory.”
Logan is sprawled out beside Eli on the living room floor, their matching blond heads close together. Eli looks up from the storybook. “Mommy! You’re home!” He is on his feet, barreling toward her.
Rory braces herself against the wall; Eli has a habit of using her legs as breaks. He wraps his arms around her thighs, hugging her with all his might. Her fingers slip through his silky hair. “Hi, baby,” she murmurs.
“Hey,” she says to Finn, still too stunned to come up with anything else. Logan glances up briefly. He juts out his chin by way of greeting, then returns his attention to the book.
“Well, I’m off, then,” Finn announces loudly, grabbing for his jacket. He strides towards her. “Sorry, he just showed up,” he explains under his breath.
Rory shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
He picks up Eli. “I shall see you soon, Elias. Take care of your mother for me.”
Eli nods, his dark eyes serious. “Okay, Uncle Finn.”
Finn sets him back on his feet and turns to Rory once again.“I’ll call you later,” he promises, giving her a quick kiss goodbye.
“Be safe.” She crouches down in front of her son. “Sweetie, why don’t you start getting ready for bed, okay? Go get in your jammies and I’ll be there in a second to tuck you in.”
Eli frowns, looking back at Logan. “I have to?”
“Yes, it’s late. Way past your bedtime. Don’t forget to brush your teeth, either. I’ll be doing a breath-check.” He juts out his lips but heads to his room. She waits until she can hear the scrape of him pulling out his pajama drawer. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
“Visiting my son, and since it’s been awhile, I thought I would catch up with Finn, too.” His eyes sparkle but she’s not entirely sure it’s with mirth. “Killed two birds with one stone.”
“That’s efficient of you.”
He closes the book and rises. “You and Finn seem close,” he remarks. He walks over to the bookcase and slides the book into place. He turns, shoving his hands into his pockets, a pose that always annoyed her. It was so … annoying.
“I see him nearly every day, Logan. He takes care of Eli for me whenever I need him to.” She gives him a look. “Stop it. Just stop it. It is not like that.”
“But you were once.”
She scoffs. “That was ages ago and you know it.”
“It’s easy to slip back into bad habits, especially when you see him so often.”
“You can leave right now if you’re going to play the jealous card. Trust me, if you want to go tit for tat, be prepared to lose.”
He groans loudly, rubbing his face roughly. “Shit, this is not how I wanted this to happen.”
Rory is silent.
“Rory, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“I show up, expecting to find you, only Finn is here. And Eli is so comfortable with him and then you come home.” He looks at her grimly. “I felt like I was walking in on a family.”
She rolls her eyes, but gives his hand a gentle tug. “So what if we are a family? You can be a part of it. It’s easy, really. Just the one requirement: you have to show up.”
He smiles, flushing with embarrassment. “I miss you, Rory.”
She preens. “I am totally missable, aren’t I?”
“That isn’t even a word.”
“See, new words have to be made up to describe me.” She laughs, her cheeks rosy.
He looks at her, bemused. “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful. Otherwise that crazy streak of yours would scare them off.”
“See, you say crazy. I say ahead of her time.”
“A tamayto, tamahto kind of situation?”
“I guess so.”
“I’m waiting!” Eli calls out.
Rory meets Logan’s eyes. “You want to help tuck him in?”
He tries for nonchalance, but the wide grin ruins the illusion. “Sure.”
“What story do you want?”
“Where the Wild Things Are!”
Rory scans the shelves, running her fingers over the skinny spines. Eli has amassed quite a collection. Logan reaches around her, placing a hand at the small of her back for balance. He pulls out the book.
He can’t quite meet her eyes. “Found it.”
She can still feel the imprint of his hand. “Thanks,” she says weakly.
They both start at the same time, nearly colliding.
“Let’s try that again,” Logan jokes, but he makes sure to let her go first.
Rory leads the way down the hall. Eli’s room is towards the end, right next to hers. She set it up that way when he was a baby for convenience. It still is, when Eli has the occasional nightmare. Now, she becomes acutely aware of the hanger full of bras dangling in her doorway.
“All right, kiddo,” Rory says. “We got the book. You ready for bed?”
Eli does a full-body shake, knees popping up under the covers. This will be the millionth time Rory has read him Where the Wild Things Are, could recite it from memory, but he never tires of it. “Mommy, come lie beside me.” He pats the bed. “Here.”
“I’m coming.” She stretches out, resting her shoulders against the headboard. He snuggles closer, and she slips her arm under his neck. He always has to see the pictures. “Open up,” she requests and he opens his mouth. She sniffs. “That’s my boy.”
Logan watches, still standing by, the visitor waiting to be welcomed. Rory whispers into Eli’s ear; and his eyes travel to his father. “Come on, Daddy. Here-here,” he urges impatiently.
The expression on Logan’s face is indescribable. He lies down on the other side of the bed. Rory opens the book and flips to the first page. Eli points at the first drawing, hitting Logan in the chest with the back of his hand. He points. “Look, Daddy, that’s Max.”
Rory smiles at Logan over Eli’s head. He mouths, Thank you.
-
Rory takes a sip of wine. Logan is preparing dinner, and she finds she is much like her mother: she loves to watch a man cook her food. This is the fourth time in a week. He has grown comfortable in her kitchen; he knows where the plates are and which one is the silverware drawer without looking. Her stomach flutters, and for the time being, it’s the good kind of butterflies. The kind that always accompanies the early days of romance. “You know, it occurred to me that you’ve been over a lot lately.”
He leans over the open oven door, slicing into a chicken cutlet to check if it’s done. White all the way through. Tugging on an oven mitt, he grasps the baking dish and shuts the door. Efficiently, he transfers the chicken to a large serving dish. “That your idea of subtle?”
“I wasn’t going for subtle, Logan. The opposite, in fact.”
“Well, I figure I should keep close until my proposal is accepted.” He leans over and pulls open the oven again. There is an entire baking sheet full of crinkle-cut vegetables brushed with olive oil and rosemary. He browned them earlier in the broiler. As soon as he turns his back, she sneaks one into her mouth. He turns his head, keeping an eye on her peripherally. She feigns nonchalance, raising her glass to her mouth as if to take a sip. Instead she uses it to cover her chewing. If he catches her, there will be hell to pay. He has very particular rules about eating during preparation. Naturally, he and Sookie get along famously.
She swallows, pressing her fingers to her mouth. The veggies are too hot. “And why is that?” she asks, clearing her throat. That last part burns its way down her esophagus.
“The better to remind you how useful I am,” he replies, clicking off the broiler. “Eli, buddy, it’s time for dinner. Go wash up.” He grabs a pot from the back burner, where he’s been reducing a dark mahogany balsamic glaze. He drizzles it over the cutlets. “What are you waiting for?” he asks her. “You need to wash up too.”
Chastised, she sets down her wine and walks over to the sink. “So, how is it you can BS like that?” she asks, working the soap into a lather. She rinses then turns off the faucet.
He tosses her a towel and she dries her hands. Carefully, he scoops up the broiled vegetables and arranges them alongside the chicken. “I’m the son of a newspaper man, Rory. It’s in the blood.”
“That’s true,” she concedes, following him into the dining area. Eli stands by his chair, and as soon as he sees Rory, he holds up his hands for inspection. She checks, looking at his fingernails. “Good job. You are cleared for take-off,” and she swings him up into his booster seat. He squeals happily, his eyes bright with mirth.
Logan doesn’t sit until Rory takes her place opposite Eli. “Let’s eat,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
“Finally,” Rory groans.
Logan wags a finger at her. “Don’t even start. I saw you spiriting away vegetables whenever you thought I wasn’t looking.”
She pouts. “Well, I burned my tongue. They were too hot.”
“They were just out of the oven.”
“I thought you were just keeping them warm in there.”
He takes Eli’s plate, automatically cutting up his chicken and veggies into bite-size pieces. “It was 375 degrees, Rory. I was cooking chicken.” He places it back in front of Eli. “Eat up, Bud.”
Rory hands him her plate. Logan gives her the second biggest cutlet and a hearty portion of the vegetables. “Since you like them so much,” he mutters and she laughs.
She laughs. “They’re good.”
“To think, just a few years ago, I would have had to force-feed them to you.”
“I got into the habit when I was pregnant with Eli.”
“So I have you to thank?” Logan smiles at his son, who looks up, confused. “You worked miracles, big man.”
“Can I have a turtle?”
Logan glances at Rory. “What?”
She lifts a shoulder. “One of the little girls at his daycare – her older brother has a pet turtle. We went to her birthday party a few days ago, and he hasn’t stop talking about it ever since.”
“You want a turtle?”
Eli nods. “Herbert. That’s his name.”
“The older brother’s turtle?”
“No, my turtle.”
“Ah.” Logan turns to Rory. “What’s the verdict?”
She stares at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”
-
Logan grins, letting his head fall against the back of the loveseat. “Remember the night he was born?"
“Vaguely. There was a lot of pain involved.” Rory giggles suddenly. “I do recall you nearly passing out when you saw the epidural needle.”
Logan visibly pales; he makes no effort to deny it. “You didn’t see it.”
Rory laughs; his expression is almost identical to the one he wore that night. Her pillow slips down, leaving her head at an odd angle. She shifts around on the sofa, trying to get comfortable again, when something jabs her in the back. She sits up, rooting under the cushions. She scrapes her knuckles on something cold and metal. Hissing, she yanks her wounded hand out, blowing on it.
“What are you doing over there?”
She finally captures her quarry. “Jesus, stupid matchbox car!” she grumbles, tossing it to the floor.
“Is your hand okay?”
“It’s not bleeding, which is always a good sign.”
He sits down beside her. “Let me see it.”
“Logan, it’s nothing. Trust me; the toys have done much worse.” She leans towards him, whispering, “They don’t like being put up at night. It ruins all their fun.”
He is so close. In her attempt to be funny, she has put them only inches apart. It has been years since she could count individual eyelashes, feel his breath on her face. His eyes drift to her mouth and she licks her lips in response.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
“You used to be a man of action,” she replies cheekily; even though, in her head she is screaming, Abort! Abort!
The spicy mint of his tea tingles on her tongue. She sighs, falling back onto her pillow. He follows her down, practically lying on top of her. It is a strange but familiar sensation. More, she wants more of this, of him. Most of her friends (and her mother) thought it was his lifestyle that attracted her, finally reeled her in once and for all. But it was this. His kisses. The way he touches her. He loves her.
He moves between her legs and she freezes. He pulls back a fraction. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
Rory shuts her eyes, frustrated. “Yes and no,” she admits honestly.
He lifts away from her. “I can go –"
She grabs the front of his sweater. “No. I don’t want you to.”
“What do you want me to do here, Rory? We’re quickly running out of options.” He untangles himself from her. His shoulders are bunched up.
“I know!” she cries, exasperated. She scoots back, sitting up, just barely missing knocking skulls. Holding her knees to her chest, she meets his eyes, heart in her throat. “I want you to come with me to my room and make love with me.”
For a moment, she’s afraid he’s going to reject her. Then he stands, his gaze unwavering as he holds out his hand to hers. “You jump, I jump, right?”
-
She hasn’t woken up beside Logan in nearly four years. She stacks her hands beneath her cheek, the better to study him in the early morning quiet. The sun loves him, slipping over him. It bathes him in the clearest light. He looks angelic and his son is no different. From the first time she laid eyes on Eli, she could see his father in him.
It was so terribly simple, falling in love with Logan Huntzberger. Which made it all the more terrifying. He didn’t fit into her plan. After everything that happened with Dean, she had decided the single life was the one for her. She wanted to buckle down, write for the paper, go to class. Be a normal college student. Boys only complicated things and made her feel messy and out of control. Caused her to do things so out-of-character, she still gets hot with shame to this day.
Logan didn’t bother with her carefully scripted life. He forced his way in, challenged all of her pre-conceived notions, about herself, about who she was. Even about being a reporter. And he did it all so easily.
They had one year, an amazing year. They lived in a tiny apartment off campus with creaky pipes and a slanted wood floor. Their families couldn’t understand why they chose it, of all the apartments in Hartford. It wasn’t like either of them was poor. They both loved it was all they could say. At night, Rory would sit out on the fire escape listening to the neighborhood kids playing down on the street below. He would come home and join her. They would share a glass of wine, or a beer. It was wonderful, the casual flow of their life together. There were fights – big ones that had neighbors complaining – but there was peace as well and comfortable quiet. For all the excitement of their early days, they settled easily into love.
Then she discovered she was pregnant over Christmas break her senior year. Everything changed. She felt her life, her goals, slipping through her fingers. Scared, she packed a bag and ran away to Stars Hollow. Her mother was disappointed in her. It wasn’t like she was sixteen years old. Rory had a good life. There was a man back in Hartford who loved her, would take care of her and their child.
“Rory, you need to go home,” Lorelai ordered after one day of her wallowing. “You’ve had time to deal with it. Now you have to go tell Logan he’s going to be a father.”
For the first time, Rory realized that home was no longer in Stars Hollow. Her childhood room wasn’t a safe haven from the world anymore. Looking around, she felt pathetic hiding out. She was going to be a mother. There wasn’t time for that anymore.
She knew the cliché going in. There is no love like the love of a mother for her child. When he finally came, she realized nothing else mattered, because finally she knew what true love was. Her love for Eli is an ache inside her chest. Sometimes she feels as if her heart will break from the intensity of it. Her son is the love of her life. Even now, it terrifies her, because she’s never been that good with loving someone. Every significant relationship she has ever had (albeit limited in number) has fallen apart in spectacular fashion.
It was only Logan who stuck around afterwards, to view the carnage of their relationship with her. He was the only one who took her as she was, baggage and all. Never once put her on a pedestal, nor did he ever try to fix her. Maybe that was why she didn’t tell him she was pregnant until after she broke up with him.
“Hey,” he murmurs now, stretching his arms overhead. He rolls his head back, then to either side. His neck pops a couple of times. He hasn’t changed a bit. He looks at her through half-closed lids. “What are you thinking about?”
“Us, back then.”
He yawns loudly. “The madcap adventures of Ace and Huntzberger, or the later years?”
“The later years.” A gentle smile curves her mouth. “Those were my favorite.”
Logan’s eyes close and she thinks he’s fallen back to sleep. “Mine too,” he tells her, taking her hand in his.
-
He kisses her shoulder. “I’ve missed this,” he murmurs.
She turns her head to look at him. “Me too.”
“I think we should make this an every day thing.”
“You want to move in?”
His finger traces the curve of her cheek. “No, I want to marry you.”
Her stomach drops. She shifts up on her elbows and pulls her knees up under her. “Logan, we’ve already talked about this.”
“This isn’t the same as before.”
“What, you think sticking around for three whole months is supposed to change my mind?”
“Rory, we’re good together. This feels good.”
“That’s not a reason to get married.”
“How about our son?”
“Please, Logan, this is not the 1950s.”
“No, it isn’t, but call me a sucker for tradition. I want to be married to the mother of my child. I want her to be the mother of all of my children.”
Rory pales. “Now we’re having more kids?”
Logan rises into a sitting position. “Jeez, Rory, would you just listen to reason?”
“This has everything to do with reason. It will not go well. We’ll end up hating each other, and you won’t be there for Eli like you are now. I can’t be the one who causes his father to leave.”
“I’m not your father, Rory. One of these days you’re going to have to remember that.”
“God, Logan, don’t you think it would be easier if that was it?” Rory shakes her head. “I’m not afraid of you leaving. You weren’t the one who left. I was. I left you – us. I have always chosen to run.”
“You were scared.”
“And I’m scared now. Eli is my son and I love him so much. But there was a time when I would I look at him and I’d wonder what my life would be like without him.” She curls in on herself. “That’s not what a mother should think about. Ever. It’s not what my mom thought about me. She never contemplated running. What if I’m him? What if I’m my father?”
He shakes his head. “You aren’t. You stayed.”
Rory refuses to believe it. “But I left. I left you. God, I loved you so much, Logan.”
He lies down beside her, their faces only a breath apart. “You told me once that if I wanted to be in this family, all I had to do was show up. Don’t you see it? You show up, Rory. You’re here when he wakes up and you make sure he has a bedtime story every night.” He brushes her hair back from her face. “So what if you have the urge to run every once in awhile? The difference is you stay.”
“Sometimes I’m afraid it’s a very small distinction.”
“Fuck that. It’s a huge fucking distinction.” He forces her to sit up, gives her a shake to get her attention. “Rory, I never gave you a reason to stay. I never once asked you to.”
Tears burn her eyes. He’s blurry as he moves in, but as soon as his lips touch hers, she feels herself soften. “Logan,” she whispers, pulling him into her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Choose me, Rory, and I’ll choose you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
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Date: 2008-02-01 08:56 pm (UTC)Take Care,
Amber :)
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Date: 2008-02-02 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-27 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-30 04:05 am (UTC)