Title: Is to Fear Life
Rating: PG-13?
AN: Hope this one is better than the first chapter was. I might just fail my philosophy exam as a result of this! Thanks for the reviews, feedback is always encouraging.
Disclaimer: If I owned these kids I'd sure as hell write them better than I do.
II: Hit and Miss
Rory flopped into her chair, blinded by the unmarred white of her monitor. It taunted her, flickering eerily in the darkened press room. The black cursor blinked against a sea of white, like a lighthouse lamp revolving in and out of sight, seeking to draw lost vessels to safety. Rory didn't feel like much of a seaman at the moment, unfortunately.
"Dirty," she muttered before she could catch herself. When had she become her mother? As if on cue, her cell rang.
Logan . Right. That's when.
"Hey."
"What's up?"
"Starting to understand how Harrison Ford felt in Blade Runner," she answered, surveying the green-hued room.
"Still working on that article, huh?" She heard the smirk in his voice.
"If by working you mean waxing poetical about a blank screen, then yes, yes I am."
"This is so unexpected from a star reporter like yourself, Ace. What could be so distracting that you find yourself without a scoop mere hours before deadline?" He knew full well what—or rather who—had been occupying her every spare moment.
She gritted her teeth, irritated. "Did you call for a reason, or simply to remind me that some people get by on the paper without any actual writing?"
There was a pause, and she sensed she'd hit a nerve. "Well," he finally mused. "Nice to have that out in the open."
"I'm sorry, Logan ," she sighed. "I'm just frustrated. I can't think of a single thing to write. Actually, even if I could, it's too late to find sources or external input." Fatigue and stressed weighed her down. "What am I going to do?"
"First," he replied gently, "You're going to get the hell out of that room. Next, we'll dress you up sweet and sharp for dinner with my parents. Then,—"
"What?" she uttered dumbly.
"I said, first, you're going to—"
"I heard what you said! Logan , I can't do this tonight. I got out of Friday night dinner with my grandparents so I could finish this article, effectively alienating my mother for at least twenty-four hours. I can't ditch her with them and then go to dinner somewhere else!" Rory said desperately. "She'd kill me!"
"You haven't told her yet, have you?"
"That's not the point. And how am I going to complete my feature?"
"Well, if you'd let me finish—"
Hearing a beep on the line, Rory cut him off. "I have another call." Checking the caller ID, she groaned. "It's my mom."
"Shit. Rory, listen," Logan suddenly sounded nervous. "I wasn't done—"
"Look, I have to take this. I'll call you back later."
"Rory, wait, I—"
"Bye," she said quickly, switching to the other line. "Stephen Glass, how may I help you?"
"Funny." Lorelai did not sound amused. "Listen, kid, you had better start spinning quick and spinning true."
Rory was at a loss. "Mom?"
"I guess in theory, when you carry a child for nine months, go through hours of excruciating labour, and spend twenty years raising and nurturing it, that would make you its mother."
The pieces started to fall into place. "Mom," Rory began.
Lorelai went on as though she hadn't spoken. "Of course, usually a mother is privy to certain information ahead of others. Not even that many others, just the others who fall behind her in the simple hierarchy of blood relation. You know, like grandparents, future in-laws, and so on."
"I didn't—"
"Still," her mother continued. "You'd expect to hear about certain important events in your daughter's life. A little mother-daughter honesty, if you will." Rory did not deem it the best moment to point out Lorelai's love triangle with her own mother and the truth. "Nothing special, just an idea of who might end up the father of your grandchildren. Stuff like that."
Rory dropped her head on the edge of her desk. "I'm sorry, Mom. I had no idea Logan was going to initiate dinner at Grandma's."
"Sorry because if he hadn't I would still be in the dark?"
"That's not what I meant," Rory protested.
"Were you going to let me know before or after he proposed?"
"He already did," she mumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Look, Rory. I understand that you're growing up and you have your own life. That's fine and I think I've given the apron strings sufficient slack. But there are certain things that entail simple courtesy, like telling me who you're dating so I don't have to find out from my mother, who will not hesitate to gloat that she knew before I did when I have the misfortune to say 'Logan who?'" Lorelai fumed.
Though Rory felt guilty, her mother's constant feud with her grandmother irritated her. "So you're really upset because Grandma rubbed it in?"
"That is not what this is about!"
"Look, Mom. I don't have the time right now. I'll see you at dinner," Rory snapped.
"This conversation is not over," Lorelai said sharply.
"Goodbye, Mom." Rory slammed her phone shut and resisted the urge to toss it across the room. With her luck, it would hit Doyle's computer, or, worse, Paris's. Standing, she shoved her notes and pens into her bag and stalked out of the office, only to run directly into her favourite person of the moment.
"Whoa, watch where you're storming," Logan said lightly, trying to steady them both.
Pulling from his grasp, she shot him a glare and continued down the hall.
"Easy," he called, jogging up beside her and matching her pace. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you first. I was just figured you would find some excuse or..." he trailed off, realizing that she was no longer at his side. Turning, he saw that she'd stopped a few steps behind.
"You had no right to do that without telling me, Logan. Do you have any idea how furious my mother is with me right now?"
His look was inscrutable. "Why is she angry, Rory?"
At his use of her name, she felt her stomach clench. Why, indeed? "You know I wasn't ready to tell her yet."
His eyes bored into hers but his voice remained even. "Why not?"
"This isn't the time, Logan . My grandparents are expecting us," she replied, looking away.
He took a step toward her, so there was barely an inch between their faces. "Why not?" he repeated.
She met his gaze and bit out, "Because I'm not ready."
"For...?"
This bone would not be dropped tonight, she realized. Tired of him tugging her strings and frustrated that he'd turned the tables on her—she was the one who had a right to be angry!—Rory dropped her defences. "For a relationship with you!" she shouted, slightly vindicated by his wince at her volume. Pushing past him, she headed for the doors.
The conditions outside forced her to moderate her gait. Falling on one's ass while trying to stalk across ice was hardly the way to win an argument. As a result, he caught up to her easily. The campus was deserted, fresh snowfall dampening all sound. They walked in silence for a few minutes, before he asked, quietly, "Why aren't you ready?"
Rory sighed, briefly closing her eyes. "When I tell everyone, this becomes real. It means I let myself—" She stopped herself. "It means when you get tired of me, I get hurt."
"I'm not going to get tired of you."
She threw up her hands. "That's what you say now! But who knows how you'll feel in a week, or a month, or a year!"
"Who the hell knows how anybody will feel in a year!" His voice finally revealed his anger. "You can't live your life scared of the next moment, Rory."
"You're notorious, Logan . You haven't committed to a single girl since you've been at Yale."
"And you know this how?"
"A good journalist never reveals her sources."
He smiled tightly. "How many have you committed to?"
"More than you," she retorted.
This time Logan stopped, prompting her to do the same. "I don't lie," he said carefully. "I meant what I told you the other night. Whether you want this enough to take the chance that I'm telling the truth is your choice." He checked his watch. "I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Don't forget your notebook. My dad has agreed to grant you an interview," he added with a twist of arrogance, heading off toward his residence.
Finally giving in to her need to throw something, Rory dropped to her knees and angrily packed snow into a ball as tightly as she could. Rising, she channelled all her frustration into the snowball and hurled it at a nearby tree.
It missed.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"I think the wires have shut down for the evening, Ace."
Rory's eyes followed his voice to find Logan leaning lazily against the doorframe of the Franklin office. She couldn't help but smile at his presence. "Shouldn't you be out defacing snowmen or something?"
His smirk deepened and she immediately regretted whatever her comment had opened her up for. "Well," he said casually, entering the room, "The boys and I decided to recreate ourselves out of snow. As challenging as it is to reproduce such fine specimens, Finn decided to go one further and suggest that our clones be anatomically correct." Rory groaned and braced herself for the punch line. Logan, ignoring her reaction, perched on his desk across from her. "Unfortunately, after a trip to the grocery store, I had to concede."
"They were out of string beans?" Rory couldn't help asking, before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. Where had that come from?
He grinned. "Actually, the cucumbers in stock weren't to my satisfaction. They're out of season, you know," he confided with a wink. Shrugging, he leaned back again. "I considered zucchini but Colin got to them first. Finn, on the other hand, opted for eggplant. And not your conventionally shaped eggplant, either," he added meaningfully.
"That would explain the size of his car," Rory nodded sagely.
"Enough small talk," he said, standing. "We have to get you out of this office. Who knows when Paris and Doyle will seek to add spice to their sex lives," he looked around the room suspiciously.
"Oh!" Rory exclaimed in disgust. She started packing her bag. "You definitely know how to clear a room."
Smiling in satisfaction, he let her pass through the door before shutting it behind him. Suddenly shy, Rory fell silent as they headed outside, remembering the previous night.
It had been a textbook date, and he had been at his charismatic, chivalrous best. Handling Paris with ease, he complimented her own attire and opened every door for her. She had half-expected a pretentious, upscale restaurant, pegging him as someone who liked to flash his means, but he surprised her by parking in front of a lively Thai noodlery. It was small and crowded, but the atmosphere was electric, the service charming, the décor eccentric and the food delicious. For once they had enjoyed an entire evening of conversation without animosity, though she was sure the wine hadn't hurt their cause.
Then Finn had called about a party and Logan had politely asked if she was interested. Though she was enjoying herself, she welcomed the suggestion, worried that more time alone with Logan might yet result in a fight.
How was she to know Marty would be bartending?
After recovering from that argument, Rory had found Logan to let him know she was leaving. He'd insisted on walking her to her dorm, where things had gotten slightly awkward. Throughout the night they'd maintained a friendly, pressure-free banter. Suddenly, however, as he bade her goodnight at her door, it became a date, complete with all the will-he-kiss-me? tension.
He didn't.
Instead he smiled sweetly and thanked her for a fun night. A fun night, she had realized after shutting the door to her room and flinging herself on her bed, was apparently not enough. Apparently, she would have preferred he kiss her.
That particular revelation had made for a mostly sleepless night.
The entire evening came back to her in the few minutes it took to reach the exit and she wondered what he was doing there, opening yet another door for her. Back for more fun? she thought sourly, then laughed out loud at herself. A week ago she couldn't have imagined wanting Logan to kiss her.
He raised an eyebrow at her laughter but she simply stepped by him, smiling. Her expression turned to awe, however, when the snow-covered campus came into view. Unable to contain herself, Rory hopped down the steps and spun around in delight. The snow fell in large, light flakes and she opened her mouth to catch them on her tongue, urging Logan to do the same. "Cuh onh, ee uh ow!"
His answer was to pelt her with a snowball. Gasping in outrage, she only increased his mirth by missing him in her attempt to return fire. "Now I see why you're such a bookworm, Ace!" he called, his taunt accompanied by another small white projectile exploding against her coat.
"You know what they say about people who don't fight well, don't you, Huntzberger?" Rory shot back.
"They should join the National Guard?"
"They fight dirty!" she cried, lunging at him. His expression registered shock as her tackle landed them both on the ground. Scrambling to her knees before he could react, she quickly shoved snow down his collar.
He tried to fend her off. "No fair!"
Rory pulled back to admire her handiwork, dissolving into giggles at the sight of the unflappable Logan Huntzberger covered in snow and sputtering.
"You think that's funny?" he cocked his head to the side. Despite the vulnerability of her situation sans-element-of-surprise, she couldn't stop laughing. She collapsed onto her back and Logan chose the merciful route, lying down beside her.
Sensing that he was looking at her, she turned her head toward him. "What?"
"I guess I am the jealous type."
"What are you talking about?"
At which point he kissed her.
Any cold she might have felt was melted away by his lips on hers and his fingertips against her cheek. He rolled onto his side and deepened the kiss before pulling away slowly. At the loss of his warmth, Rory was frozen in place. He smiled and her heart remembered to beat, trying to make up for lost time.
All her nervousness rushed to the fore, and she started to sit up. " Logan …"
"Wait." With a hand to her shoulder, he easily prevented her attempt to rise. "I don't play games," he said seriously. "Any time I'm with a girl, she knows exactly what my intentions are from the beginning and that will not change with you." She felt her heart sink slightly. "Even though you are different," he added. Sitting, he pulled her up beside him. "I like you, Rory and I'm not going to fuck this up. Not only am I terrified of your grandfather, but my parents would kill me."
"Are you asking me to go steady?"
He pondered the mischievous glint in her eyes. "I don't have a letterman jacket or a class ring to give you. I don't even have a pin."
"Trust me, the concept of pinning is not especially appealing."
His expression went from zero to cocky instantly. "Depends on who's doing the pinning, Ace."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Rory rolled her eyes and started to stand.
"Same goes for you," he tugged at her and she tumbled into his lap.
"We're going to freeze to death," she warned.
"This is hardly the time to toss down a gauntlet, my dear."
"I'm cold," she stated impatiently and, leaning in, kissed him silent.