Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything up to Jews and Chinese Food is fair game. Past that, it's just where my mind takes over.
Teaser: When Rory and Logan's arrangement goes prematurely sour, his friends take it upon themselves to intervene. Sequel to Keeping it Casual
Story Title: Nothing A Good Friend Wouldn't Do
Chapter Title: Nothing A Good Friend Wouldn't Do
AN: Nope, I wasn't done! There are still a few confrontations to be made, some major issues to clear up and a proper ending to get to. And I have no idea how many chapters that will take. I never know, so it's a surprise for both author and readers. Fun, huh? On with the story. . .
Time was passing all too quickly. She wanted this night to last forever, fearing the truth and reality that would dawn with the sun. She checked the clock once more, resting her chin yet again on his chest that continued to rise and fall evenly with his breath. It was past three in the morning by this point.
Glancing up at him, she smiled fondly at how peaceful his expression was while he slept. He'd always fallen asleep briefly with her, holding her while she fell asleep, but he always managed to slip out before she woke, leaving just a note in his wake.
She wondered if she should feign sleep to make this easier on him when he would eventually stir.
He showed no signs of moving, however, other than his natural body rhythms. She couldn't blame him; it'd been an exhausting three hours. They had been rather frantic—first with him breaking the speed of sound in efforts to get them to her room quickly, then the last two hours, well, she'd never experienced anything quite like the last two hours.
The race didn't end until well after they reached her darkened dorm room. She could almost still feel his hands on her body as they tugged and tore at her clothes, in desperate attempts to remove any and all restrictions. His breath was hot on her neck and coming in fast succession; his hands shifting from feather-light to iron grips, in just all the right places. The last coherent thought she'd been able to form was that of the way the soft cotton of his shirt felt between her fingers as she lifted it up over his head and how it caught air as it was released from her finger tips. She could focus on but one goal, the skin-to-skin contact that they obtained lightening fast, just before they made it to her made bed.
The time they'd spent apart, or trying not to openly avoid the other, seemed to have increased their desire, if not only their need. They worked diligently to satisfy that which only the other could provide. Both their actions were hard, authoritative, and fast. There were no words between them, there seemed no time for words.
That was, the first time. The second time, which came after an extended period of lying in each other's arms, was filled with him grazing his fingers lightly over her skin, tracing the trail of freckles that dotted her otherwise porcelain complexion. There were no words now because there was too much to say; this whole time filled with just long gazes and soft kisses. The soft kisses led to further kisses, and he began to shower her body with his lips. Hating to break his slow rhythm that struck her as achingly erotic, she responded, and they took their time. Their hands glided over the each other's bodies, great care in pleasure building slowly. The results were more intense and it was after that he allowed sleep to claim him.
Now as she watched him sleep for a while, she realized that the things that weighed on him during waking hours fell away. Everything about him seemed softer, gentler. His arm was around her waist, still holding onto her. He hadn't let go of her since the beach.
A single tear escaped her eye as she thought how amazing it was to be here like this with him, with no defenses, she felt like she could tell him everything. All her fears and insecurities, and it would all be okay. He'd still allow her to be strong and intelligent, keeping her secrets safe between them.
She just couldn't wake him. She didn't dare, knowing that in the process of gaining his attention, she'd lose her nerve and he would coax her to sleep, stroking her hair as he did so softly. Then she'd wake up to find him gone.
She placed her cheek back down on his chest, closing her eyes for just a moment. If she could just find rest without sleeping. She needed to feel him leave. Then she would know whatever this was. How he handled this, that's what she'd have to do too. She was just starting to realize how much she could bend herself to keep him near.
And then she lost the battle to the heavy veil of sleep.
XXXX
His eyes opened to check to see what light was assaulting his eyes even through closed lids. They almost seemed to glow red before he opened them, now seeing the sun come pouring into the window at him.
Rory's window. Rory's room. He looked to the sleeping figure on his chest; how she seemed to be using his bare chest as a pillow, and one of her arms wrapped around his torso lightly, as if it'd just fallen there. He smiled, forgetting everything else for a moment, or rather not letting the weight of last night's events wash over him yet. He just wanted to enjoy the look on her face.
Then it hit him, he'd never seen her room lit quite this way. He was usually gone before the sun came up, waking some time in the middle of the night, and easing his way out of her bed carefully so as not to wake her. To his knowledge, he never had. She was a heavy sleeper, because once he'd tripped in an attempt to get out her window, his foot getting caught on some stray garment that had been tossed onto her windowsill. He'd cursed loudly, crashed into the wall, and still she didn't budge.
He looked at the clock, seeing it was past eight. His so-called friends wouldn't be rolling into town for another couple of hours in all probability. It occurred to him that he could stay and wait until she woke up, and talk to her.
That is until he realized he had no idea what was to be said.
They'd exchanged no words, save pleasured groans and urgings, last night. Knowing what she needed sexually had nothing to do with what she needed of the guy that was going to be there for her, in her life, something to count on. And he couldn't promise her that he was that guy.
At least, he didn't see how he could.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, he did. He ached to kiss her awake and tell her everything about his life, how it was planned for him before even his father was born, and how he longed to leave it behind. He would do that to keep her in his life. Hell, he would never leave this bed again if that's what she wanted.
He just couldn't do it.
She stirred, the sun warming her back as she lie on her left side, molded to a soft, warm mass. She was confused, it felt like morning in all aspects but one—she'd never woken up to another person in her bed. Except Paris that one morning when the heater broke in her room. That was quite another situation altogether.
His breathing had changed, no longer deep and regular. He seemed to be holding it, in fact. He was awake. She opened her eyes, seeing his brown eyes smile into hers as the sleep faded from her vision. It was the most welcoming sight.
"Morning."
"Morning," she returned the greeting, unsure of what to do now.
"I hope you don't mind I stayed, I guess I was really tired. I haven't been sleeping much, lately," he trailed off as she shook her head.
"Yeah, me either."
They both nodded, very aware that they'd never tried to hold a normal conversation while completely unclothed. This wasn't as easy as it was made to look in the movies, she thought, scrambling for something to say that would let him off the hook.
"About last night," he hedged, but she looked at him alarmingly and put a finger to his lips.
"No, don't. Don't apologize. You didn't plan it, and it all just. . . happened."
"Rory," he sighed.
"No, Logan. If this is how it's supposed to be, if it's what you want, tell me. But don't apologize for it."
"You don't understand," he informed her. He took the hand of the finger she'd pressed to his lips and intertwined it with his. He held it to his chest tightly.
"Can you explain it to me?"
She already knew the answer he would give her, but there was no preparation for hearing it.
"No. Not satisfactorily."
"Can't you try?"
"Is it worth it?" he looked into her eyes, still aware that she had reservations on her own part as well. She managed to dodge her own qualms, kissing him until he could think of nothing but the heat that she stirred in him.
"I don't know."
She bit her lip, looking back up at him. He nodded, and kissed her forehead. "You want me to get going?"
She nodded, unable to ask him to leave. "I should get some work done."
"Okay," he said, slipping out of bed to find his randomly discarded clothes. There was no rhyme or reason, no path they'd followed. Everything had been flung in a frenzy of passion, and it made him dizzy to remember it as he searched out familiar cloth.
She watched as he pulled on found article after found article, pulling the sheet up tightly over her chest. She was cold suddenly, from the lost heat he'd provided her. She wanted to tell him to stop, to come back to bed and stay until they figured it out, but she wasn't even sure what it was to figure out. Did he want to be with her, or not? She knew she wanted him, but it wasn't in her plans. He didn't fit into her plans. He brought out things in her that she saw as reckless and irresponsible. She'd found the impulsive acts she'd committed in the past to only ruin lives and bring shame. She had tried so hard to get back on the right path, and she wasn't doing smart things with Logan. She wasn't the kind of girl to neglect homework to stay out all weekend at parties. She definitely wasn't the kind of girl to have sex with someone she wasn't even dating. But at the same time, he also made her focus on things more sharply, improving her studies and her writing seemingly from the sheer knowledge that he'd see all of her Daily News work, and wanting to see the look of pride in his eyes. Most of all with him, she felt free and confident. It was an amazing dichotomy that he stretched her in.
Before she could open her mouth to articulate any of this in any coherent way—or forget coherent, just spewing it out in partial sentences would probably provide relief of some sort, he was back at the side of the bed, fully dressed and crouching down to be eye level with her.
"You asked me to tell you what I wanted?"
His look was pensive, and he was clearly very serious. She'd never seen him so somber. She nodded, unable to find her voice still.
"I just want you. And I see no way of that happening, with everything else in my life right now. That isn't fair to you, and you said you'd do what I wanted, but I can't let you do that, Rory. I can't. I care too much about you. If you want to go back to how it was before, having it all called off, tell me now."
She bit the skin just under her lip inside her mouth, tugging on it hard with her teeth to keep from crying. "Come by later?" she managed.
His face softened, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "I'll be here."
She felt a wrenching relief as he pressed his lips into her forehead again, soothingly and sweetly, and then he moved over to the window, unlatching it and then he was gone. She lie back, and pulled the covers up over her head, trying to block the world out.
XXXX
Logan sat in the armchair in the common room of the dorm suite. His emotions had been dragged across the board, and he just wanted to maintain calm. He knew his hung-over friends would be rolling in at any moment, and he waited patiently.
He tried to keep Rory out of his thoughts. He pushed every thought of her soft cries from the night before to the way her hand had slid up the side of his ribcage when she first broke consciousness this morning.
At long last his reprieve came in the form of the door unlocking, and familiar voices entering the room.
"God, Finn, how many times does a girl have to say no?"
"You kissed me, that's encouragement!"
"I was drunk, Finny. That doesn't count," Stephanie's voice was exasperated, as if her friend should know the rules by now. It'd happened to all of them, strange mixes of alcohol leading to some awkward pairings. It was all in the name of good fun, and normally it was Finn who would suggest that a romantic rematch was in order.
"Am I right in assuming you guys are the only ones Finn hasn't kissed?" Jill giggled, and Stephanie laughed, pointing at Colin. "No, seriously?"
"He was really trashed, and very high," Logan informed her, turning in the chair. They all jumped, so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn't notice his occupation.
"Logan," Colin said in surprise.
"Thanks for bringing Jill home. I'm sorry I left like that," he looked at her in a grimace.
"No problem. You get everything taken care of?" she asked, moving to sit on the arm of his chair. She ruffled his hair and looked down at him.
"Sort of. Can I talk to the guys alone?"
Stephanie and Jill shared a look. "Come on, you can use my bathroom, and crash with me for a while."
Jill nodded and bid the boys goodbye. Colin and Finn sat on the couch, eyeing Logan curiously. He rubbed his temples, trying to get a train of thought to stick. There was so much to say; the manipulating, the personal business that they shouldn't have interfered with, the fact that he'd never wanted to rip one of his friends' throats out in his life until he saw Colin kiss Rory. . .
"Logan, we couldn't just sit back and watch you walk away from her."
He looked up to Colin. "Look, I appreciate you guys wanting to help me out," he began.
"No, Logan, you let her walk out of here. You haven't slept in a week, you're miserable, why can't you just admit it? You love her. You love her, and it's okay. It was actually inevitable that some girl would come around to turn your world upside down like she did. You have everything else in the world, and you know what? Some people don't get that lucky to find what Rory does to you, and to watch you try to play it off like losing that was nothing, was unacceptable. We couldn't have called ourselves your friends if we did nothing to make you see that."
Logan sat back, completely surprised by Colin's outburst.
"So, if you were expecting an apology, you won't be getting one. We did nothing a good friend wouldn't do."
Logan was still speechless; looking on as his friends stood up, ready to pass out for a few hours.
"Did you at least get things worked out with her?"
"I can't. You know it's not that simple," he managed softly.
"Un-fucking-believable," Colin shook his head, slamming his door behind him. Finn just patted Logan's shoulder as he too took his leave, ready to sleep the alcohol out of his system.
He was left alone, unable to tell exactly who was on his side anymore, or what side he wanted anyone to be on. Too tired to even decide what his options were, he stood and moved off to his own bed as well.
