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: Epilogue
AN: As promised, the final installment. Takes place a year after the last chapter. Thanks to all the kind words, and to those of you who have been asking for a sequel—nothing is planned, but you never know. I do have another Rogan in my mind, but separate from this, to be sure. You guys have been so great about encouraging this story, and I thank you. It's the first time I really tried to do Rory and Logan and all their combined worlds. So, thanks about a million more times, and here's the last chapter!
Rory paused after turning her key in the lock to examine the large box that had been left outside their apartment door. She groaned at the familiar logo on the outside and the fact that her arms were already loaded down with bags. She nudged the door open with her foot after having balanced the weight in her arms just long enough to turn the handle, and then proceeded to kick the box in ahead of her own entrance.
Logan looked up from the couch where he was typing furiously on his laptop, even after having taken notice of her. "Hey, you're early," he commented. "What's with the box? Did it do something to offend you?"
She set the groceries down on the kitchen table and rolled her eyes. "Yes, in fact, it did," she said as she picked up said box and tossed it onto the couch next to him.
He put his laptop down on the coffee table in front of him and studied the outside of the box. He looked up at her and smiled. "Ah, I see."
"It's your turn," she pointed an accusatory finger at him, as she turned to start putting the grocery items away in their proper place.
"My turn?" he asked as he left the box on it's cushion and moved to help her by taking a box of Coco-Puffs and opening up the pantry. "How can you possibly know that?"
Rory snorted as she pulled a cookie out of the already opened package and shoved it into her mouth. "Bcau he hat fa ou mat fine," she said with a full mouth.
He turned to look at her in amusement and settled against the counter, waiting for a clarification. "You look like the Cookie Monster when you do that," he teased.
"I said, because I heard from my grandmother last time."
"How silly of me not to have gotten that," he moved to pull another item out of the bag. He looked down at the bag of frozen broccoli and held it up for her to see. "Broccoli?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't remember the last time I ate a vegetable."
"Ah," he shook his head, continuously surprised at her thought processes, even after a year of living with her. She never disappointed him in her eccentric ways. He put the bag in the freezer and moved to her open cookie box, shoving his hand down to grab one for himself. When his he withdrew his empty hand, he shook the box in the air to hear what sounded like sand moving around in the bottom.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. "Everybody snacks when they shop," she moved to put the bags away. "The phone's in the bathroom."
"Why?" he queried as he moved to find it. She was one step ahead of him, on her way to the bedroom to change into her around the house clothes. He'd never known anyone to require separate outfits for home and the world outside the front door. Not that he was complaining. Home outfits were generally way less covering than those she chose to leave the house in.
"Because this morning I was in a hurry to leave because someone was rather insistent on making me late getting out of bed," she chastised him, though he seemed to be not at all ashamed of his actions, "and I was brushing my teeth while shaving in the sink when the phone rang."
"So, you're telling me this morning you had a phone conversation while shaving your legs and brushing your teeth?"
"I'm a multi-tasker," she grinned, tossing her skirt at the hamper before padding over in bare feet and underwear to inspect her options awaiting her in her closet. It'd been a long week, and she was ready to spend an entire weekend holed up in her apartment with Logan and get a chance to completely relax. They'd been going non-stop for the last month, between school and family obligations. But this weekend, the Gilmores were in Europe, his parents were in New York, and Lorelai had taken pity on her run-ragged daughter and told her that she would forgive her if she didn't see her this weekend what with finals and Logan's graduation coming up so soon.
Logan sighed and picked the cordless phone up off of the sink. "I know. I plan on putting that fact to good use again later," he said as he dialed and brought the phone up to his ear.
She turned, still clad in just her underwear, and smiled at him. She watched his expression change from one of lust to one of harassed annoyance—someone had picked up on the other end of the line.
"Mom? Hi. … It's me. … Yes, we did, in fact. … Mom, … Mom, stop. We realize this. … No, I'm sure. … I would tell you if we did. … No, and you can tell Emily the same thing as well. … No, you don't need to speak with Rory. … Because she'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you right now."
Shaking her head at the redundant conversation he was having, Rory moved to his dresser and opened up his underwear drawer and extracted a pair of boxer shorts. He moved to stand in front of the bureau and shoved the drawer shut, looking at her with disapproval. She flashed him a smile and pulled on the pair of shorts over her own underwear before going to her closet and pulling out tank top and pulling it on over her bra. She pulled her hair back into a loose braid and flopped onto her stomach, sprawling out on the bed to wait for him to get off the phone.
If memory served her, he was currently listening to the run down of why their prolonging any and all decisions regarding a wedding was causing problems in both families' abilities to make plans for the upcoming summer, or worse, the summer after. She turned her chin into her shoulder to glance back at him to see his closed eyes and free hand running through his messy blonde locks—yep, right on schedule.
"No, Mom. No. … I don't need to speak with Dad. … I was just calling about this. … I don't want to have to, either. … Okay. … Maybe next month. … Okay. Bye."
Rory heard the beep of the phone being turned off nary a second before it landed with a small bounce on the mattress next to her. She next expected Logan to crawl up over her, but instead she felt a shaking coming from the foot of the bed. She flipped over onto her back and looked at him as he used one foot to bounce the mattress underneath her.
"What?"
"What's with your stealing my underwear?"
"I like these, and I've been meaning to tell you, they look better on me," she bit her lip in hopes of luring him onto the bed. Instead he just stood with one foot on the edge of the mattress, looking down at her.
"Is that so?"
"What reason did she give this time?" she asked.
"She said that because of some conference Dad has coming up this summer she needs to make plans for the Vineyard now, and if we don't choose an invitation style by Monday, she won't be able to get them printed and out in time. And she added that both August and September can be lovely for weddings," he added. "Since when do you just go into my underwear drawer?"
She propped herself up on her elbows. "What?"
"You looked rather experienced reaching into my underwear drawer."
She furrowed her eyebrows together and stared at him with interest. "Just when did you get so protective of your underwear?"
"I'm not protective of my underwear."
"Are you accusing me of snooping? Because even if I was, I wouldn't do it with you in the room," she laughed, wondering why he still looked disturbed over the whole idea. "Is there something in there to find should I start snooping?" she sat up cross-legged in front of him now, her curiosity stoked.
"No," he said quickly—too quickly. He leaned down to kiss her nose, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned back, pulling him down on top of her.
"Not so fast. What's in your underwear drawer?"
"One less pair of boxers, evidently," he said, fingering the waistband to the confiscated clothing.
"Logan, seriously, what was with the freak out?"
"I think you're right. They do look pretty good on you. I've always thought you looked sexy in men's clothing," he growled into her ear, running one hand up underneath her tank top and over her stomach.
"Don't think you can distract me. There's something in your drawer," she wriggled underneath him, which only spurned on his efforts to keep her on the bed.
He dipped his head down to the collar of her top and placed kisses over the exposed skin. She let him continue for a minute, relishing in his presence over her as she hadn't been able to see him all day, so she ran her hands through his hair as he slowly began to slide down her torso—his hands and mouth began working in tandem.
She let out a groan of happiness as the phone rang, at which he groaned in frustration. His head pressed down further against her stomach. "Don't answer it," he mumbled into her shirt.
"It could be important," she reasoned weakly.
"Ace," he grumbled.
"It could be my mom," she said as she reached out and grabbed the still ringing appliance. He narrowed his eyes as she answered and decided to continue on to torture her and test her true ability to multitask.
"Hello?" she asked and then she bit her lip to hold in a loud squeak as Logan's fingers had worked their way back up to their prior locale.
"Oh, yes. … Yeah, he's here, but he uh, … No. He's not able to make it to the phone. Can I take a message? … Oh. … Oh? … I see," she said, and despite his efforts to make her have trouble speaking, her speech was making him have trouble focusing. His head came up to her level, and he reached for the phone.
"This is Logan. … Yeah. … No, it's fine. …Thank you. I will."
He hung up and tossed the phone now off the bed, and she moved quickly over him to straddle his hips and she grabbed his collar. "Logan," she began. "Do you by chance want to explain that particular call?"
"They weren't supposed to call here," he said, running his hands up softly over her back.
"So, that's what you were hiding?"
He nodded and looked into her eyes. He was yet to tell if she was upset or excited about it.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Ever heard of a surprise?"
"But, it's only been a year," she stammered, sitting up straighter, and allowing him to sit up at the waist as well.
"I know. They're open ended. Meaning whenever we want to use them."
Rory nodded mutely. "So, that's what's in your underwear drawer?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I should have been more creative, evidently. Put them where, in the vegetable crisper?"
"Well, I'd rather get in your underwear than in there," she giggled in agreement.
"I thought you'd like it," he told her sincerely.
"I love it. A trip to Italy is perfect."
He nodded. She bent her head to capture his lips in appreciation. "You're too good to me, you know that, right?"
"I wouldn't go that far. I plan on taking my underwear back," he said, threading his fingers through her hair that was falling out of the braid she had fixed it in.
"You know, a trip to Italy would be the perfect getaway in a couple of weeks," she mused.
"I graduate in a couple of weeks," he searched her eyes.
"I know. We've both been working hard, and you'll have an entire month before you have to start working for your dad, right?"
"Rory, I bought those tickets for our honeymoon," he clarified because of her steady, determined tone.
"I know. The woman on the phone said the call was in reference to Mr. Huntzberger's honeymoon getaway to Italy. I didn't think you were taking someone else."
"You had conditions. You aren't done with school," he reminded her.
She reached out and intertwined her hand in his. "We're ready," she whispered. "You wouldn't have bought those tickets if you didn't know that."
He continued to gaze into her eyes, at what he'd been seeing more and more in them lately. "Can we get it all done in two weeks?"
"All what? All I need is you there with me," she said.
"We have to figure out where to go, get a marriage license, rings," he rambled.
"You're starting to sound like me," she giggled.
He flipped her back over so that he was hovering over her and he dipped his body down slowly to mesh into hers. He silenced her laughter with his lips, holding her face in his hands while he balanced his weight on his elbows. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let the awe of their conversation take her over.
"You really don't want to tell anyone? Your mom? Lane?"
She shook her head. "It's too risky. Grandma could find out if I tell my mom, and if you tell your friends, your parents could find out. It's all too risky. We'll call them from Italy and let them plan a reception for this summer. As long as you're sure about all this."
"If you think I'd let you get away now, you're nuts. And not in the cute, underwear stealing, fifteen cups of coffee a day, willingly living with Paris kind of way. I would have married you the day I asked you," he sighed contently. "I've just been waiting for you."
"Well, Mr. Huntzberger," she said with an air of finality, "Wait no more."
