Summary:Rory/Logan. Rory gets a tattoo. Fluffy one-shot.

Disclaimer- Don't own Gilmore Girls or characters.

A/N: I came up with this when I was drawing on myself during class and was like "Wow, that looks cool." Yup, that's pretty much it. Anyway, I know Rory would probably not get a tattoo, but that would be cool if she did. Sorry if either seems out of character. And yes, I used my own Rogan/Rogaine joke. What, it's funny! Lol. Hope you like it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::1:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Logan?" Rory asks, bursting through the door, her dark, wool pea-coat wrapped tightly around her thin frame. She spots him lying idly on the couch, his head on one end, feet on the other. Rory rushes over, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Logan puts his book down and pulls her onto the couch.

"You look excited," he comments, noticing her flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes. She nods and grins.

"I did something crazy," Rory says, fingering the collar of his navy blue polo shirt. His forehead creases and he looks curious.

"Crazier than jumping off a tower holding only an umbrella?"

"Mmm, it's about even," she concludes. "Do you want to know or not?"

"I suppose," Logan sighs nonchalantly, smirking out of the corner of his mouth. Rory stands up and takes off her coat, tossing it on the nearby coffee table.

"Okay." She slowly lowers the left side of her jeans, revealing her sharp hip bone.

"You got a tattoo?!" His eyes widen and his mouth drops to the floor. The tattoo is small; nothing extravagant. Etched on her skin are three small stars, each a different shade of pink.

"Stars, for, you know, Stars Hollow, and also, they were pretty," Rory smiles broadly, searching Logan's face for a reaction.

"Or maybe because you're a star." He winks and she giggles loudly.

"So, do you like it?" she questions hesitantly.

"Yeah," he murmurs, running his thumb over the tiny graphics, thinking she has never looked quite as beautiful as she does now. She winces.

"It's a little sore," she admits. She joins him back on the couch, and the two cuddle under a plaid blanket. "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Besides the huge demon face on my back? No." Rory rolls her eyes and smacks him playfully on the arm.

"We should get matching tattoos," she mocks, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Mine would say Rory…."

"And mine would say Logan."

"Or we could both get "Rogan"."

"Isn't that the hair-growing product that's on those infomercials?" Rory's face wrinkles in disgust.

"You watch infomercials? And it's Rogaine," he corrects her.

"Why would you know that? Are you going bald, Logan?"

"What? No!" he exclaims.

"It's okay, I would love you anyway. It might be kind of fun to run my fingers over your smooth, shiny head."

"Stop! I'm not going bald! I have a full head of hair!"

"I'll order you a supply of Rogaine next time I see the infomercial," she says seriously.

"Rory."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she laughs, ruffling his blond hair. "Maybe instead of the tattoos, we should get Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton-esque blood viles."

"That's revolting." He arches his eyebrows at her.

"Fine, ruin my dream of carrying your blood around my neck."

"You're crazy." He strokes her short, auburn hair.

"I was lying before," her eyes smile, drifting over the room. "I would definitely dump you if you were bald." He tackles her, tickling her stomach until she screams for mercy.