A/N: I am so sorry for the delay in updates. Life is super busy, but here is the new chapter! There is lots of Finn in honor of the actor who played him following me on Twitter (!). Hope you enjoy :D

Chapter Three

In theory, Rory knew that drinking with her ex wasn't a great idea. Especially when a raucous and morally ambiguous Australian is thrown into the mix, but it was for the story, and dammit, she was willing to do just about anything for one of those. She slaved over the intricacies of nanobites and computer programming back when she was on the tech beat. She could handle one night out.

She knew she was in deep the minute she started delving into her date outfits. She wore a burnt orange tulip skirt with a cream sweater tucked in the waist. Chocolate colored leather booties worked their magic at her ankles. It was something she'd worn out with Rob a few weeks back. When she walked out of her room Paris didn't say a word, which was almost worse than if she had said something. It was almost like her falling back into all of this – namely Logan – was such an inevitably that Paris didn't want to waste the energy commenting on it.

"It's only drinks," she said unnecessarily.

"Sure it is," Paris said.

"Really. It's just drinks. Finn will be there."

"He'll probably ditch you guys halfway through tonight. Actually, probably less than halfway through."

Rory sighed. "You're probably right, but still…it's only drinks. Logan knows about Rob."

"I know he does," Paris said. "Look, I'm not saying anything."

"I know," Rory said with a sigh. "It's what you're not saying that I'm concerned over."

"Rory, you know me better than to think I keep any judgment to myself. I believe you're just having drinks. You're old friends. Whatever."

"Right, whatever," Rory said with more conviction than she felt. Because she was standing there in a date outfit, already wondering if her eye makeup looked okay, and you didn't worry about all of that for a "Right, whatever," night.

"I'm going to go now," Rory said, half to herself. She turned her attention back to Paris and told her, "Don't wait up."

"I won't. You know nothing gets in the way of my eleven o'clock bedtime."

Rory smirked. "Bye Paris."

It wasn't too far to the bar from her apartment, and she almost thought she was going to be early. But then the subway got delayed – something about as normal to her now as getting pulled over by Taylor in Stars Hollow – and she found herself checking her watch anxiously as she made the two block walk from the subway station to the bar.

She spotted them at a corner booth at the side of the bar, Finn making some large gesture as she said something. Logan laughed in response, and she could only imagine what ridiculousness prompted it. She took a calming breath before walking over, plastering on her best this-is-for-an-assignment-and-nothing-more grin.

"Finn, Logan, hi," she said, purposely taking the empty spot next to Finn.

Finn beamed toward her and before she could fully react he pulled her into a tight hug, the smell of his cologne entering her nasal passage so aggressively that it made her cough.

"Gilmore, this is…this is just fucking wonderful," he said, voice displaying only the slightest bit of inebriation. "Look at you." He turned back to Logan. "Mate, look at her!"

"I'm looking Finn," Logan said with an amused grin. "It's nice to look at you."

She laughed a bit and said, "Thank you?"

"So, what are we drinking?" Finn said. "First round's on me."

"Oh, um, red wine for me?" Rory said. "Unless you're just getting a round of beer or something. Then I'll just have that. Or whatever you're getting. Actually, just get me whatever you're getting."

Logan smirked. "You want to have whatever Finn's having? You've gotten brave with age."

"Alright, I'll be back," Finn said, ushering Rory out of the booth with a hand on her shoulder. She scooted back in, watching the energetic Australian make his way through the throngs of people, chatting up several women – of varying hair colors – along the way.

"He really hasn't changed," Rory noted.

"No, he hasn't," Logan said. "Disappointed?"

She shook her head. "No, I actually find it sort of refreshing."

Logan grinned. "It's nice to know that some things don't change, right?"

"Exactly," she said. "Thanks for doing this, by the way."

"No problem. You said that your editor wanted a little more spice to your piece?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he said it needed something extra. So, here we are."

"If my boss told me to go drink on the job I'd be pretty happy," Logan said. His expression shifted for a moment and he asked, "Hey, can you expense this?"

Rory smirked and shook her head. "No, this immersion journalism is all on the journalist." She remembered Finn up at the bar and added, "And her Australian friend."

"I'll cover the next round," Logan told her.

"Oh, you don't have to," she said. "I can handle one night on the town. Being a journalist hasn't made me that destitute."

Logan's eyes danced at that, and he said, "If all goes as planned this article will be bringing in business, so consider it your cut of the profit."

Before she could say anything in return, Finn appeared at their table with a tray filled with shots. Rory had a pretty good feeling that none of them was the red wine she originally asked for.

"Well, this is what you get for saying I'll have whatever you're having," Rory thought to herself.

"These were on the specials night," Finn said, placing three in front of each of them. "So, I ordered all of them."

"Naturally," Logan said drily. Finn sat down next to Rory and pushed her over toward Logan, who asked, "Do I need to go get us something not in a shot glass? I think Rory wants us here for more than five minutes."

"A round of beers is coming, mate," Finn returned. He looked back at the bar and then pointed to a waitress who glowered in return. Rory could only imagine what sexist remark he made to elicit that look.

"That lady with the beautiful cleavage will be bringing them round."

Rory had a feeling then what it was he said.

"Alright, so let's get your phone out and get that app ready," Rory said, reminding them – and herself – why they were at this bar on a Tuesday night. "I'm excited to see it in action."

"Why don't you try it, love?" Finn suggested, although he handed his phone over as requested. "I've already used it plenty. Works like a fucking dream, by the way. I credit that app to my still having my balls."

"That's quite the compliment," Logan said, stifling a laugh when he saw the positively stricken look on Rory's face.

"Okay, I guess we can use it on my phone," she relented, pulling it from her purse. It actually wasn't a half bad idea. She'd already downloaded it, to get a feel for the app and how it worked, but she never actually used it.

"Let's toast to that," Finn said gaily, picking up the nearest shot to him – a dull red one that reeked on red bull – and raised it in the air. Rory reluctantly picked up her matching shot and made the mistake of taking an experimental sniff. Yep. Definitely red bull. She'd be tasting this for hours.

"I'll just have this one," she told herself reasonably. She could push the rest off on Finn throughout the night. He was never one to turn down extra alcohol. The three of them hit the shot back, her eyes watering as the shot burned her throat.

"Oh, that burns," she croaked, swallowing hard.

"A good burn, right, love?" Finn said happily, already reaching toward the second shot.

Logan asked her, "So, whose number are you putting on alert tonight?"

Rory thought about it for a second and said, "Probably Rob."

"Rob?" he asked.

"My boyfriend," she said.

"Your boyfriend?" Finn asked, his second shot momentarily forgotten. "Good for you, love. Why are you hiding his number?"

"He doesn't really like it when I drink," Rory said. "He's very much a my-body-is-my-temple type. No alcohol. No soda. No refined sugar."

Logan stared at her. "How the hell did he end up with you?"

She shrugged. "Opposite attract, I guess? It's not all bad. Some of his healthy habits have actually rubbed off on me. I drink a lot less soda. I go for the occasional run."

Logan snorted. "You what?"

"Okay, very occasional. I did it twice and then realized that I really don't like sweating. But, you know, I was a jogging person for a little."

"For two days?" he teased.

"Alright, love, let's get his number all nice and wrapped up," Finn prompted, pulling her and Logan from their little repartee. "Then more drinking."

She went through the app, choosing Rob's number and setting up all the proper parameters so that if her tipsy fingers searched for his number, she'd come up short. She could just imagine the disappointment in his voice if she called drunk. Or maybe he wouldn't care. Things were still strained between them since she forgot about their anniversary.

"Alright, done," she said, setting her phone down on the table.

The waitress came over with their beers, pointedly ignoring Finn as he tried to get her attention. She made her way back to the bar and Finn murmured, "I love it when they play hard to get."

"Did it ever occur to you, Finn, that women playing hard to get might just not be interested?" Rory offered gently. Finn stared at her blankly and she murmured, "I guess it hasn't."

Finn took a large gulp of beer from his stein and then gestured toward Logan with it as he said, "We're doing an Irish car bomb later tonight. You and me, mate."

Logan nodded. "You got it."

Rory leaned in toward Logan and told him, "You are going to be vomiting so badly."

"Chalk it up as part of the experience, yeah?"

"I don't like vomiting as any part of anything."

"That's probably wise."

"Alright, guys, let's get going on these," Finn said, holding up another shot glass. It was an amber-colored liquor that Rory hoped was whisky. Any other option didn't seem too appealing. A few minutes prior, downing a shot in such close proximity to another would have been deemed a bad idea, but her head was just a little spacy from the first shot, and it was just spacy enough to not recognize the downward spiral that second shot would send her on.

It was, in fact, whiskey, and while it burned just as much as the first shot, Rory didn't notice it as much. Her hands slid around her beer and she sipped at it frequently, enjoying the pleasant haze it lent to her head. She didn't even realize it when she finished, sipping at an empty stein until Logan swatted her hands – wrapped around the empty stein – back toward the table. When Finn suggested taking the third and final shot, she didn't even hesitate.

"Let's do it!"

Drinking with Finn was wonderful. She didn't know why she didn't do it more in college. Everything was exciting. A random passerby in an interesting shirt. The waitress. The bowl of peanuts. Who knew peanuts were so delicious? She didn't. It was a neglected food, she decided. She needed to buy more peanuts.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Finn said, leaning heavily on the table. "It's fucking wonderful. All of us back together."

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" Rory said. "F-ing wonderful."

Finn leaned toward her and slowly said, "Fucking. Say it, Gilmore. Fucking wonderful."

She hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Fucking wonderful. It's fucking wonderful!" She turned back to Logan with a wide grin and said, "Did you hear that? It's fucking wonderful!"

Logan laughed. "I did hear you, Ace."

He was using her nickname again, and it was a change that didn't go unnoticed. She propped her elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her upturned palm before looking up at him and saying, "I like when you call me that."

"Call you what?" he asked, mid-sip of beer, and resuming to the sip as he waited for her answer.

"Ace," she said. "I like when you call me Ace. Always have."

"I didn't think you liked it that much in the beginning."

She shook her head. "I did. I thought it was cute. Besides, I never had a nickname before. Well, my mom called me Cutie Poops when I was little, but that really doesn't count."

Logan smirked and told her, "I am officially calling you Cutie Poops from now on."

"No! Logan, you can't!"

"Whatever you say, Cutie Poops."

"Finn, tell Logan he can't call me Cutie Poops," she said loudly, turning her head over to the now empty seat next to her. She scanned the crowd for a moment and then spotted him sidled up to a redhead a few tables over.

"Huh," she said. "When did that happen?"

"I don't know."

"Wasn't he just saying how great it was that we were all together?"

"Finn is often distracted by beautiful women. Don't take it personally."

"Okay," she said, taking another large gulp of beer. "Hey, how come you don't have a nickname?"

"I gave you one when we met. Master and Commander, remember?"

Rory shook her head messily. "That wasn't the first time we met. That was the second time. The first time was –"

"With Marty outside that coffee kart," Logan finished. "You're right."

"You were sort of a jerk when we met," Rory recalled, leaning back in the booth. "And then when we met again outside my dorm. All that stuff about Marty being a servant?"

"I didn't actually agree with everything I was saying," Logan said. "I just liked getting you riled up. You're cute when you get all indignant."

She felt her cheeks flush. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"I know."

Silence fell between them, and after a few moments Logan said, "A few years back I visited here. It was just for a weekend. Business stuff. I called you."

She swallowed hard and murmured, "You did?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's when you first started at the Times. I, uh, left a message on your machine?"

This was supposed to be the part where she told him that she did hear the message, and she regretted not responding. This was supposed to be the part where she apologized, and he did too, because no single party was entirely at fault in their story. Years of misunderstanding and hurt settled over a collection of empty bar glasses.

"My machine had some glitches when I first started," she said, disappointment spreading in her chest the moment the lie left her mouth. But it was too late to go back now. "I lost a bunch of messages. Yours must have been one of them."

"Oh."

"Did I miss something important?" she asked.

He shook his head immediately. "No. Nothing important."

"Good," she said softly. "I would have hated to have missed something important."

Something in his gaze told her that he was going to say more, but before he could Finn ambled back over to the table with another platter of shots. He went through a rambling story of them being on special which made Rory think he'd somehow forgotten about ordering them a few hours prior. Still, all downed them like it was the first time. Like they hadn't already toed the line from drunk to obliterated.

By the time they left, Rory could barely walk and Finn held her by the waist as they staggered to the nearest cab with Logan in tow. They climbed in, telling the unhappy cab driver that they had three different drop-offs. The next morning Rory would think that they were lucky the cab driver didn't kick them out, but the driver didn't protest, instead adding several additional dollars onto the fare.

The movement of the car made Rory's eyelids heavy, and she rested her head on Finn's shoulder, feeling her eyelids drift shut until Finn loudly shouted about some song on the radio, and her head jerked back up abruptly.

"Too fast," she complained, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"Easy Ace," Logan said, reaching up and laying his hand over hers. She looked over at him, her lips parting slightly as her eyes met his. They were close – so close – in the small back seat of the cab, and she was suddenly extremely grateful for Finn with them.

"I love you guys," Finn slurred beside her. "I fucking love you."

Rory was the first stop, and Logan scooted out to let her out of the cab. He helped her out, arm slipping around her waist as she stumbled on her heels. She looked up at him, wanting so badly to reach up and feel his cheekbones under her fingertips, but knowing that she couldn't. That was before, and this was now. She couldn't do that anymore.

"Thank you for helping me out," she said.

"No problem, Ace."

"Goodnight, Logan."

He did a strange sort of bow, and then got back into the cab. She watched it pull away and turned toward her building, fumbling in her purse for her keys. She walked up the steps and then unlocked her door, closing it noisily behind her. Paris was long asleep, and Rory tried her best to not make too much noise as she walked over to her room and then closed the door. She changed into a pair of pajamas and collapsed onto her bed, messily pulling the comforter up over her bare shoulders.

She laid there for a while, staring at her ceiling and replaying the conversations from the bar in her head. She thought about Logan, and how the phone call finally came up. She thought about what she said. The lies. She shouldn't have lied. That was her chance to clear the air, and instead she made it even more muddied.

She reached for her phone on her nightstand, knocking over a bottle of lotion and a book in her efforts. Still, her fingers curled around her phone successfully and she pressed the large button at the bottom center, the screen coming to life in the darkness of her room. She opened her contacts and scrolled down to his number. Part of her whispered that this conversation shouldn't be had when she was about three thousand sheets to the wind, but she didn't know if she'd have the courage when sobriety took hold.

Decision made, she tapped on his name.

The phone rang, rang, and rang before he finally answered. His voice was thick, and she murmured, "Did I wake you up?"

"Rory? Why are you – what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, I should have realized you would be asleep. I…go back to bed. I'll call you later."

"No, Rory, stop. You called for a reason. What's going on?"

She took a deep breath and said, "I lied earlier. About my machine losing your message. I listened to it."

"You did?"

"A few times. I…I should have called you back. But I was still angry at you for leaving, and I know that's really not an excuse, but that's where I was. I was still hurt, and so I wanted to hurt you."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I know," she said. "But, can you understand now why I couldn't do that? Why it wasn't right for me?"

"It took me a while," he said slowly, "but, yeah. I understand."

"I did love you. Please know that. I just wasn't ready to settled down like you wanted. I just graduated. My life was just beginning."

"It wasn't the right time for either of us," Logan admitted. "Why did you lie to me earlier tonight?"

"I was embarrassed," she told him. "I should have called you back. Even though I was angry. Even though I was hurt, I should have called you back. I should have heard you out. I owed you that."

Logan was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Thank you for telling me."

"I should have told you sooner."

There was a beat of silence, and Logan asked, "How did the app work tonight?"

"The app – oh, I actually didn't call Rob at all. Didn't really even think of it."

"Ah, see that's the first line of defense with the app. You put the number off limits and your brain senses that."

"Yeah, it must," she murmured.

"Well, you should get to bed, Ace. The hangover you're going to have tomorrow will be bad enough without sleep deprivation added to the mix."

"You're right," she murmured. She wasn't looking forward to the morning. Actually, considering it was already morning, she probably wouldn't be facing that nightmare until the afternoon. "Goodnight, Logan. Sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay. To be honest, the call was worth it."

She smiled a bit. "I'll talk to you soon."

She hung up and tugged the covers up beneath her chin, closing her eyes and letting sleep wash over her. Miraculously, she only woke up with a mild headache.

A/N: As always, feedback is appreciated!