RATING: Still PG-13

SPOILERS: Up to and including "But Not as Cute as Pushkin"

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. All characters are property of ASP and the WB.

NOTES: I struggled with this chapter. I hope the end result is at least satisfactory. As for updates, they won't be as frequent for the next while. I work retail part time to pay for school and the store's a madhouse this time of year.

Five: Just Like Barbie

"Up for a challenge? We like that in a girl."

"I'll add it to my list," Rory retorted. She surveyed the three guys sitting around her, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Exactly what had she managed to get herself into?

"List? What list," Finn asked.

"The list of things you like in a girl. So far I've got loose, adventurous and up for a challenge."

"Though," Logan interjected, "Those last two are kind of the same thing."

"Must you be contrary?"

Colin snorted, "That's pretty much his default setting, Gilmore."

"Lovely. So what are the rules of this little game of yours Finn?" Rory spooned more rice onto her plate.

"Hmm," Finn thought for a second. He hadn't really planned that far ahead, "How about a round of good old 'I never?'"

"I don't drink," Rory countered.

"Please, Gilmore. Present company has seen you drink, remember? Don't pretend you're not fond of champagne."

"Fine. I don't drink in the middle of the week."

"Okay. How about Twenty Questions?"

"Wouldn't work," Rory said dismissively.

"Why?" Finn asked, somewhat miffed that she was shooting down his ideas.

"There's three of you and one of me. Since you all have known each other for so long, you won't be asking each other questions. I'll answer sixty and you'll each answer either six or seven. That's an uneven balance."

"Now who's being contrary, Ace."

"I'm not being contrary. I just don't want to be the loser here."

"Oh!" Finn snapped his fingers, "I've got it!"

"May the heavens help us," Colin said sarcastically, "Finn's got something."

"Life," Finn affected an unnaturally deep voice and used sweeping hand gestures, "is defined by a series of firsts."

"Uh oh. Things never end well when Finn breaks out the Philosophy 101."

"Therefore," Finn continued, ignoring Colin, "the game is: describe your first sexual experience. Who, what, where, when and why as well as any extenuating circumstances."

"It'll work," Rory admitted grudgingly. "But really, why is this necessary again?"

"Because, Gilmore, we already know your basic stats. Now we want to know the interesting parts."

"What stats?"

Colin rolled his eyes and began ticking points off his fingers, "Name: Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. Parents: Lorelai Gilmore, only child of Richard and Emily Gilmore and Christopher Hayden, only child of Straub and Francine Hayden. Senior class vice president and valedictorian of Chilton Prep. Accepted by all of the major Ivy's, chose Grandpa's alma mater…" he trailed off, "I could go on."

Rory was shocked, "How, exactly, do you know all of this?"

"The husband shopping extravaganza?" Logan reminded her, "we got a rundown of your pedigree from the parental units with our demands of attendance."

Rory rubbed her temples, "You people are weird. And also, a little creepy."

"Ha! You don't know the half of it, Gilmore."

"Yet," Logan added.

"Enough chitter chatter. Let the games begin," Finn broke in. "Rory, love, as per our agreement you get to go last."

"Yippee," Rory said sarcastically, the wheels turning in her head. Part of her was wondering what the hell she was doing. Another part, the reporter part, was intensely curious. Now was her chance to see if tales of Logan's sexual exploits, rumored to be various and sundry, were at all true. Plus, she'd never really discussed sex with anyone, save Lane (who had no practical experience) and Paris (who's practical experience was of the variety Rory did not care to discuss) and her mother, with whom details were kept vague as some lines were not meant to be crossed.

"Ooh!" Finn waved a hand in the air, "Can I go first?" No one objected so he plowed ahead. "It was the winter of 1998 on an island both warm and remote. Forced Christmas vacation with the parents. My dad was amusing himself with golf, my mother, with daiquiris and plans to redecorate the London house."

"Wait a minute, how many houses do you have?"

"About four, last time I checked. How many houses do you have?"

Rory shook her head, "Just the one. Last time I checked."

Finn wrinkled his nose, "And you say we're weird. Anyway, I met a girl at a coffee shop where she worked. She was wearing a Clash t-shirt. Had a nose ring, too. Her name was Nora and she was a couple of years older. I bribed another employee to copy her work schedule for me and was there whenever she worked. Two weeks later my considerable charms had won her over and she invited me back to her place at the end of her shift. It was a bit of a hovel, actually, but we listened to Pink Floyd and she had her way with me. Several times."

"And thus, began Finn's ongoing fascination with alterna girls."

"Did you love her?" Rory asked, curious.

Finn considered, "No, not really. I suppose I could've, if I hadn't flown back two days later. Colin, you're up."

"Okay. Mine's pretty basic. Had a girlfriend in high school. Meg Naylor." Finn mimed playing a violin but Rory poked him and he stopped, "We began dating mid-junior year, started sleeping together a year later. Flowers candles, background music, the whole nine, the first time."

"What happened to her?" Rory asked.

"She went to Columbia. Hooked up with a bohemian painter type. We broke up." Rory didn't know Colin very well, but she suspected the nonchalance with which he spoke was forced.

The silence that followed was a little too heavy for Finn's liking, "Contestant number three, come on down!"

Rory smiled at Colin sympathetically, and turned her attention to Logan who was looking ever so slightly uncomfortable. "Yes. Do tell."

Logan shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, Ace. You seem to have some strange ideas as to what my life is actually like. I was at a party at a friend's house. I got drunk off obscenely expensive wine pilfered from various people's parents. Katie Littleton, who was in my Calculus class, found herself in a similar predicament. She kissed me, one thing led to another; I woke up next to her in a walk in closet on the third floor. My memories are hazy."

Rory shook her head, "No Logan, that's pretty much exactly what I expected from you." She was keenly disappointed in him, and she didn't know why.

Logan's eyes narrowed at her obvious barb, "Well, it's your turn, Ace. Let's hear it. I'm sure it's all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows." Anything else she could have said died in her throat. As the 'other woman' she really wasn't in any position to judge. Logan watched her eyes cloud over and knew he had hit close to home, "We're waiting."

"Fine," Rory steeled herself and fixed her eyes on a point well above Colin and Logan's heads and began, in a tone lacking any sort of inflection, the tale. "Who? Dean, whom you've all met."

"Guy with the truck outside of your grandparent's house?" Colin asked.

"That's him. Where? In my bed, at my house, in Stars Hollow. When? The beginning of last summer. What? That should be obvious. Why? Because I thought I could go back in time. Extenuating circumstances? He has a wife."

The three of them were silent. Whatever they had been expecting, that had not been it. "So I was right," Colin said, "it was a good story."

Finn twirled some noodles around his fork, "It's nice to know you're not perfect."

"No one's perfect." Rory looked at Logan, waiting for some appropriately biting comment

It didn't come. He considered her, a new, indecipherable gleam in his eye, "And that's a good thing. Perfect is boring."

Clean up had consisted of tossing the paper plates and plastic cutlery and storing scant leftovers in the fridge. A style which Rory was accustomed too.

Colin regarded her with a tinge of admiration, "I've never seen a skinny girl eat that much."

Rory patted her stomach, "Told ya. I was raised on diner food and takeout. Neither of which is known for small portion sizes."

Colin thought for a moment, "I don't think I've ever actually eaten in a diner."

"That's possibly the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Logan quirked an eyebrow, "You've got some messed up priorities. So about tomorrow…"

Rory sat up, "Oh, right. Another reason why I came over," she glanced at her watch, "three hours ago. We need to go over some conditions. There's really only two. Number one: you will be nice. Or you will be finding your own way home. Marty's coming and the last time you all were in the same general area I had the urge to drown all three of you in the nearest shallow body of water."

"Marty, Marty…" Finn muttered to himself, clearly having no idea what Rory was talking about.

"At the coffee kiosk," Rory tried to jog his memory.

"He's the bartender," Logan interjected.

Realization dawned, "Oh. Right. Bartender Marty."

"Just Marty. Remember rule number one. It also includes being nice to people you don't know. Rule number two: dress appropriately."

"We're always dressed appropriately," Colin answered automatically.

"Yeah, for dinner at a four star restaurant or golfing at the club. I somehow doubt your ability to dress for a show at a night club in a not so classy part of town," Rory countered. "Some ground rules: you," she pointed at Logan, "no turtlenecks. No blazers. Colin, no cuff links. No outrageously expensive loafers."

"But they're Italian."

"Leave 'em at home. Put a pair of Chucks on the platinum card. Both of you: wear jeans. Actual jeans, no trendy, fussy dark denim designer stuff. Do not bring more than $50 in cash. Bring one credit card. Preferably one with a limit. Put the credit card in your front pocket, separate from your wallet. Don't wear a watch or anything that can be lifted. Any questions?"

Colin raised an arm, "What are 'Chucks?'"

Rory rolled her eyes, "Oy. This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Chuck Taylor's," Finn supplied, trying to be helpful. Still he as met with blank looks, "Shoes."

Rory suddenly had an idea. "You know what? Don't worry about it. I have a plan."

"Why does that not sound like a good thing?" Logan wondered aloud.

"Hey, you protected the integrity of your event. I'll protect the integrity of mine. As a bonus, you won't get beaten up by a guy with a green mohawk and tattoo sleeves. "

Colin swallowed, "I like the sound of that."

Rory smirked, "I'm going to need a few minutes alone in each of your rooms."

"Why?" Logan asked suspiciously.

"Logan," Rory widened her eyes in her best approximation of a guileless expression, "you make all this noise about trust. You've got to give a little to get some. So trust me."

"Why do I not like the sound of that?" Colin asked.

"Because you're a control freak," Finn supplied.

"I won't think less of you, should I come across a stash of dirty magazines," Rory promised.

Logan held up his hands in defeat. "Fine. When would be a convenient time for you to rifle through our closets?"

"How 'bout now?"

"Now?"

"Why not? You and Colin can take a walk. Get some ice cream."

"Ice cream," Logan repeated dubiously. "We just ingested an alarming amount of food."

"You're growing boys."

"'Logan and I?' What about Finn?" Colin wondered.

"Finn can stay."

"Yeah, Colin. I can stay. Wait, why can I stay?"

"Because I trust you to dress yourself in a way that is appropriate for my event," Rory answered. "Plus, I might need your input."

Finn gave Logan and Colin a triumphant look that clearly said 'neener neener neener.'

"Wait," Logan started, "let's recap. You want Colin and I to leave and get ice cream so you to can pick out our clothes for us."

"Pretty much, yeah. You seem to be stuck on the ice cram thing, though. Do you people not eat ice cream? I'm sure you can find some Gelato, or," and she shuddered a little as she steered them to the door, "Fro-Yo. Whichever you prefer."

"Has it escaped you're notice that we're grown men?"

"Nope," Rory chirped and opened the door.

Logan sighed, "How long would you like, Ace?"

"Forty five minutes should be good. See-ya!"

"Toodles," Finn added with a smirk. Colin and Logan left and he turned to Rory, rubbing his hands together. "Well. That was fun."

Rory laughed, "I enjoyed myself."

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

"Let's."

"How is it that we just got kicked out of our own place by a girl we don't even know that well?" Colin asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Logan admitted, "she's mighty persuasive."

"And you like her."

"Well, yeah. Don't you?"

"You're so dense sometimes. I mean you like her in a not strictly platonic way. You like her in a goopy, hand holding, snuggly way."

"I do not. And did you just say 'snuggly?'"

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Colin. How long have we known each other?"

"I don't know. Ten years?"

"Exactly. Have I ever done the 'goopy, hand holding, snuggly' thing?"

"There's a first time for everything. Perhaps you're maturing."

"Me? Mature? Ha!"

"Logan, you can't just James Bond your way through life. Because in the real world James Bond would be an STD factory."

"I'm only 22."

"So?"

"So, I think I can have a few more years of James Bonding it before I break out heirloom ring and pop the question."

"I think Rory Gilmore showed up ahead of schedule, then."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she's kind of perfect for you."

Logan glanced at Colin skeptically, "Have you been watching Oprah, again? That stuff will mess with your head."

"Shut up. Just think about it. Socialites bore you, but you're parents would never approve of someone outside of that set. At first I thought she was too, well, sweet for you, but she's got a temper and some attitude and a couple of skeletons in the closet."

"I think you're high."

"I think you know I'm right. When Logan did not reply Colin switched gears. "When are we going to ask her to join the LDB?"

That caught Logan's attention, "She wouldn't."

"Why not? She's got the necessary background. The Hayden's were members of the Princeton chapter for generations. Emily Gilmore was one of the first female group members at Yale."

"She doesn't know that. And it's not up to us to tell her."

Okay. Another subject that Logan was apparently not fond of. "What do you think she and Finn are doing?"

"I really don't want to know. To The Pub?"

"To The Pub."

They'd gone into Colin's room first. Rory had made a brief survey, but avoided anything too in depth. This was something of a violation of privacy and Rory didn't want to break too many boundaries. Finn, it seemed, had no such qualms and was currently nosing through a credit card statement. Rory made quick work of Colin's closet and dresser. He owned enough designer suits to pay for her house, and the one next door. "Finn, I let you stay so you could help. So help." She held up two shirts, "Which one?"

"Neither," He got up and rummaged around a little.

Rory, her job taken away, wandered over to the bookcase, what she saw there, was not what she had expected, "What's he majoring in?"

"Colin? Art History."

"Really? I pegged him as a future MBA type."

"Nope."

"What do his parents do?" Rory cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It shouldn't matter what his parents did.

Colin poked his head out and asked slyly, "Why Rory Gilmore, are we judging people by the amount of money their parents make?"

"No, you all just seem to know an awful lot about me; I'm just trying to get up to speed."

"All you had to do was ask. Colin's dad is a real estate developer. Hotels apartment buildings, stuff like that."

"Like The Donald?"

"Kind of. Mostly in Europe, though. And he lacks appalling hair. Anyway, Colin's the spare, so he gets to study whatever he wants. The older brother is on track to enter the family business."

"Huh. What about you?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask that. You and I are kindred, in some respects."

"Being?"

"We're children of scandal. My mother was as high society, blue blooded Republican as a person could be. Then she ran off with a musician."

"Ah. So you're love of musician types is genetic."

"Yeah. The family cut her off. Uncle Mathew was set to inherit everything."

"Then…" Rory prodded.

"Then he came out of the closet."

"So?"

"Republican's, remember?"

"Right."

"Anyway, as they had no more children, running off to Australia was the more forgivable sin, so my mum was brought back into the fold. They bought a tiny record label for my dad, which has since become mighty profitable."

"See, that's definitely a plot to a movie of the week."

"What do you think of this?" Finn held up some clothes.

"Nice. Very mod."

"To Logan's room we go."

"What are two handsome gentlemen like you doing dining without female company?"

"We've been asking ourselves the same question."

Stephanie helped herself to a seat, "Not that I'm not glad to see you or anything. Because there's a guy over there who was getting a bit to overzealous in his attentions."

"Where?" Colin craned his neck to look, and Logan shook his head. Colin had had a thing for Stephanie for a year and had never once acted on it.

"There," she pointed a finger, "the guy at the bar, in the green sweater. You let a guy buy you a drink and all of a sudden his hand starts inching up your thigh. No manners."

Logan chuckled at the damsel in distress act. Stephanie was anything but. He was struck by an idea, "What are you doing tomorrow, Stephanie?"

She placed a hand over her heart, "Logan Huntzberger, I'm flattered. But you're not my type."

"I know. And I'm grateful but that wasn't why I asked. Colin, Finn and I are going to see a band play."

She wrinkled her nose delicately, "But why?"

"Rory Gilmore invited us," Colin and Stephanie shared a knowing look that Logan did not like the slightest bit.

"And she said she had no interest in cutting."

"Cutting?" asked Logan.

"In line."

"What line?"

"The line to ride Logan Huntzberger." Colin choked on his soda at her bluntness and she patted him on the back, "I'm in."

"There are rules," Colin told her.

"I don't like rules, Stephanie pouted.

"Number one: we have to be nice. Number two we must protect the integrity of the event."

"Which means…?"

"Dress to blend."

Stephanie clapped and bounced in her seat, "Ooh dress up. That'll be fun."

If being in Colin's room was weird, being in Logan's was even more so. She hovered near the door while Finn dived right in. He turned and looked at her oddly, "Coming?"

"I feel weird."

He nodded in understanding, "Because you figured that the first time you were in Logan's room you'd be naked and he'd be doing unspeakable things to your body?"

"Finn!" it came out as a high pitched squeak.

"What? Honestly Rory, we're going to have to do something about that prudish streak you have."

"It's not," though the blush that stained her face said otherwise, "Logan and I aren't like that."

"Yet."

"Not ever."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"He's not my type."

"What is your type, then?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, how can Logan not be your type?"

Rory glared at him, "I think I like you better when you're drunk."

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

When Colin and Logan returned, Finn was attempting to teach Rory the fine art of playing video games. She was finding that she was not very good at it. "You realize you have no hand-eye coordination, whatsoever."

"I'm well aware of that. I took golf for my PE credit."

"Hey. We recruited another person for tomorrow, Gilmore."

Rory looked up and her onscreen character was promptly annihilated, "Who?"

"Stephanie," Logan told her.

Rory looked back to the screen. The disappointment she was feeling was surely due to the fact that she was failing miserably at the game. "Great. That's another ticket." She made a show of checking her watch and got up, "I should go. I was only supposed to be gone for a little while."

"Do you want me to walk you back," Logan asked.

"No. I'll be fine. I'll see you all tomorrow?"

"You will," Colin confirmed.

"It'll be excellent," Finn enthused.

"At 7:30," Rory reminded them.

"Until then, Ace."