PAIRING: Finn/Rory.

RATING: G

SPOILERS: Everything that has aired so far is fair game.

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

NOTES: I started this before Christmas, ignored it for awhile, them picked it back up. Hope you enjoy.

One: All Work and No Play

Choices, choices, choices. It was no wonder the cosmetic industry raked in the big bucks, Rory Gilmore thought. She stood, considering a display, at CVS, wondering whether or not switching mascara brands was a good idea. She'd always been a Maybelline girl. But that girl in the L'Oreal commercial really did have fantastic eyelashes. It was a Wednesday morning, early December. She'd just faxed the article she'd been working on to her editor an hour before and had some time to kill before it was returned with notes for revision. She'd decided to grab some coffee and run some errands. It was an average day, in an average week in what had turned out to be very much an average year.

Naturally, just then, life decided to throw her a curveball. Said curveball saw her before she saw him and greeted her like he was Holly Golightly, "Rory Gilmore, darling. Is that you?"

"Finn!" Rory exclaimed, shocked. He was the last person she'd have expected to run into today. "Hi."

"Hi? All I get is a 'hi?' Completely unacceptable." He put down the basket he'd been carrying and picked her up in a bear hug, twirling her around. When he set her down Rory was blushing furiously and the scant few other shoppers were watching them with interest. Rory was acutely aware that her hair was a mess and that she'd left the apartment wearing her warmest, most practical, (and therefore rattiest) parka. Finn took no notice of their audience or of her embarrassment. But then he'd never been adverse to public spectacles. In fact, he'd rather relished in both creating and observing them. He kept a grip on her shoulders until he was sure she was steady on her feet and pulled back. And he'd always taken great pleasure in embarrassing her, too. "Now that I've greeted you properly, how are you? Married? Divorced? Bearing the illegitimate love child of anyone famous?"

Rory laughed, "No, no and I did that last year. It's not as glam as you'd think it would be."

"Really?" Finn's face was the picture of shock. For all his teasing he'd always been easy to mess with. Though she suspected he was mostly humoring her.

"No."

"Figured. If anything you'd have the love child of some tragic, penniless, artist type. You're probably a sucker for the fixer-uppers."

He'd just accurately described the major problem in her last three relationships. Not only was she attracted to fixer-uppers, she was attracted to write-offs and money-pits. "What brings you to New York, Finn? And CVS?"

"I'm here because the airline managed to lose my suitcase. They've no idea where it is, though they refuse to admit it. Useless bureaucrats. And since I have no desire to go for an indefinite period of time without flossing, here I am, buying things to keep me from smelling. I'm in New York for a command performance at the family yuletide celebrations, God help me. And you? Researching a masterpiece?" He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Neighborhood pharmacy skimming prescription pills to sell illegally for obscene profit?"

"Just buying shampoo."

"The banana stuff?"

"Um. Yeah." How (why?) on earth was Finn able to remember what kind of shampoo she used?

"Good. Your hair always smelled nice. Are you finished?"

"I just have to pay."

"Good. How about taking a bloke out for lunch? I promise I'm baggage free."

Rory nodded her head in agreement, smiling despite the lameness of the joke. She'd forgotten how interesting life with Finn could be.

"When was the last time we saw each other, Rory?" Finn asked, once they were seated in the restaurant, sharing cheesy breadsticks.

"That would have been almost three years ago."

"Oh. Right." He didn't add the circumstance of their meeting and for that Rory was grateful. She didn't need to be reminded of Mitchum Huntzberger's funeral. She'd met Eloise McNeely that day, the beautiful, elegant fiancée of the man that she'd turned down.

"How was the wedding?"

Finn hesitated, "Rory…"

"No. It's okay. I actually want to know."

"Beautiful. Perfect. All the pomp and circumstance one would expect. Open bar." He watched her process his words. If she really wanted to know he wasn't one to sugar coat, "Logan was happier than I'd seen him in a very long time."

"I'm glad," Finn studied her, surprised by her sincerity. Either she really was okay or he had lost his ability to read her. "You look skeptical," Rory noted.

"I am skeptical."

"Don't be. Logan and I broke it off four years ago. In the end…" she trailed off, unable to verbalize what she knew to be true about her and Logan, "I guess we just weren't right for each other."

"I don't get it," Finn mused, more to himself than to her.

"Get what?"

"You loved him like nothing I'd ever seen," he looked her straight in the eye, characteristically blunt.

"I loved him, yeah. Still do in some ways. But he wasn't my first love. And, with a little luck, he won't be my last."

They'd lingered over lunch as long as possible, until their server was visibly annoyed with them. Finn wouldn't let her see the bill, insisting that it was his duty as a gentleman to take care of it, but the aforementioned server was sunshine and roses later. Finn was thanked effusively as Rory put on her coat and scarf. Rory figured Finn had tipped well enough to make her three cups of coffee worth the server's while. "Where to, Miss Gilmore?" Finn asked jauntily.

She studied him for a second as they stepped into the mid-afternoon brightness, "Have I ever seen you without sunglasses in the daylight?"

"Probably not," he shook his head ruefully, "But I've grown up. Worked a respectable, grown up daytime job for, what, five years now? My eyes have adjusted accordingly."

"Well, I believe post office was next on my agenda, Peter Pan. I need stamps. Are you tagging along?"

"Of course. I can either spend my day pestering you, in a boring hotel room, or with my family," he mimed a shudder at the thought.

"I'm flattered," Rory deadpanned.

"You know me. A beautiful woman wins out every time."

Finn was a toucher. He didn't believe in personal space, especially with people he considered friends (a fact that had brought many who didn't know them to conclude that he and Colin were quite a bit more than friends in their college years). He walked close. He held doors open. He placed a hand on her back to usher her into a room, he brushed her hair away from her face. Back when they'd first met she'd had trouble with it, not used to being touched by a man that was not hers. Gradually, though she'd relaxed, grown so accustomed that she'd barely even noticed it. When other people had questioned it she'd managed a shrug and nonchalantly offered, "He's Australian," as an explanation. It was an excuse that worked more often than not.

Today though, Finn touching her every now and then wasn't easily shrugged off. Things that she wouldn't have noticed a few years ago now gave her pause. She'd found herself leaning into him and consciously cataloging every touch, every gesture. She told herself it was become he was no longer as familiar as he had been. That she hadn't had a boyfriend in awhile and she was reading too much into nothing. That it was really, really cold out and gravitating towards the nearest warm body was a survival instinct.

Finn and talked as easily as ever, though. They spent a good chunk of that first day catching one another up on the people that they had known and enjoyed through each other. Finn confided that Colin and his wife Marissa were trying to have a baby. Rory found the image of Colin with baby spit on one of his $400 sweaters amusing.

Rory told Finn that Paris was living in Boston doing some medical research she found completely fascinating and Rory had a difficult time understanding, let alone trying to explain. Paris was seeing a man she had a good feeling about, a bookish Englishman who worked at a publishing house. He was older, but with neither foot anywhere near a grave. Finn lamented the fact that he'd never made a move on Paris, since she seemed to have a thing for accents.

Stephanie's father had retired this summer and Stephanie was now running the pharmaceutical company, the power agreeing with her immensely. Finn admitted that she was mildly terrifying. Rory pitied her underlings.

Rory glowed with pride when she talked about Lane. Lane, having followed her dreams, despite opposition, was living in L.A., having reconciled with Dave Rygalski, pursuing her big break and working as a session musician to make ends meet.

The Huntzberger empire was thriving under Logan, and he was as in love with newspapers as his father had always wanted him to be. Finn watched Rory carefully as he talked, looking for a crack in her composure. There wasn't one and Finn was almost convinced she was honest when she said she was over Logan.

"I miss them," Rory said suddenly, and she did. These people she had known and loved before she had entirely known and loved herself. "I miss you, Finn."

Finn shook his head and smiled down at her, "Silly girl. You don't have to miss me. I'm there if you want me to be. I'm sure Colin would love to hear from you. Steph too. I know for a fact that Logan misses you. Friends only lose touch if you let them."

"I guess I know that. But you, and Colin and Stephanie were Logan's. Does that make sense?"

Finn laughed, "Bought and paid for, in the beginning. Pricey, too. But you were a major part of our lives for years, Rory. Not just as Logan's girlfriend, either."

"I didn't want anyone to have to pick sides."

"So you picked for us? Fascist."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, though. I missed you, too. Bizarre political leanings and all." His arm reached out and pulled her into him. She stayed for a moment, her arm coming up behind him to return the walking hug. She lingered, glad to have run into him.