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: Oh, wow. I'm actually kind of surprised so many people read this. Behold the power of Finn.

Two: Third Degree

Finn had popped back into her life at an opportune time. A few weeks before and Rory would have had to brush him off, being in the middle of a piece and barely having time to grocery shop, let alone entertain Finn. Somehow, though, she highly doubted Finn would have allowed a 'nice to see you, let's keep in touch.' He hated being ignored.

Finn was a welcome distraction, as Rory was now in the midst of the part of investigative journalism that she found most tedious. Revising to meet her editor's standards. Revising if the sources had a problem with how their words transferred to the page. Endless faxes and notes and lots of downtime in between. Finn was always around to make her laugh when shortly before she's been contemplating ripping out her hair strand by strand.

He'd adopted her apartment as his own and spent more time in it than in his outrageously expensive hotel room. She should have been fed up with him. But just when she was about to snap, demand he quit flipping and just stick with one channel, or sit still, already, and quit picking up every loose knickknack, he'd casually say, 'Oh, by the way, I just made a fresh pot of coffee, would you like some?' or if she was sitting next to him his hand would find hers and would massage away the cramps frenzied typing had caused. Either way all would be forgiven. That was Finn's way. He drove her to the brink of crazy but in the end she thanked him for the ride.

He had insisted on taking her out nearly every night. They went to dinner at upscale, ridiculously trendy eateries where they spotted and mercilessly mocked many who had graced recent US Weekly covers. He took her to what turned out to be the second best diner in the world. They saw plays (both those that were impossible for mere mortals to get tickets to and those arty ones in tiny, dingy, theatres where half the seats were empty and the ones that weren't were filled by scowling university students and middle aged men in berets). They went to clubs and movies and gallery showings and Finn even took her ice skating one night, though he was terrible at it, and took her mocking gracefully, from his perpetual seat on the ice.

It wasn't until the beginning of the third week that they made the society pages. A photographer had caught them outside of the restaurant they'd dined at two nights ago as they stood near the curb, waiting for a cab to pass. They'd been facing each other, close, hands entwined. She'd been laughing, head thrown back and he was looking down at her, smile in place, but faint. If she didn't know any better she'd say they looked like they were in love. At the time, neither had noticed a picture being taken.

The blurb beneath the picture had actually been rather long. Her background was detailed (eldest grandchild to Richard and Emily Gilmore, alumnus of Yale, came into a sizable trust last year, promising journalism career, etc) and his approximate net worth and former conquests were written on at length. The columnist apparently heard wedding bells chiming in the spring.

She'd read it aloud to Finn over the breakfast of bagels and fruit he'd brought with him. When she'd finished she'd carefully folded it and looked at him. He calmly popped a slice of pineapple in his mouth, meeting her gaze levelly. "Well?" she asked.

"Well what?"

"What are we going to do?" His answering shrug conveyed how unconcerned he was. "Finn, come on," Rory prodded.

"Rory it's only gossip. Relax. It's actually quite flattering, for once. Who knew people thought I was too good to date brainless supermodels? They love me, they really love me. I think I'm going to laminate it and post it on my refrigerator."

"But a lot of people read this, Finn. They're going to think we're…" she gestured weakly between the two of them.

"Engaged? Together? Making mad, passionate love at every available opportunity?"

"All of the above."

"Would that be such a bad thing?"

"What? Finn, are you saying… Do you…" before she could finish her question, and find out what he meant, the phone rang. She was prepared to ignore it but the Inspector Gadget theme chimed from Finn's jacket pocket a second later. He took out his cell phone, glanced at the display, and answered it, retreating into the other room with an apologetic look. With a sigh and a mental note to pick up the thread of the conversation later, she picked up the receiver in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"You've been keeping things from your mother again. I hate it when I'm scooped."

Rory sighed and hopped up to sit on the counter, "Hi mom. I take it you've been enjoying a morning paper with your morning coffee?"

"Nope. I left early this morning. Inn issue. Tiny flood. I barely had time for makeup and the Bride of Frankenstein would quake at the sight of my hair. Your grandmother was kind enough to call me with this little ray of sunshine. I dropped everything to look it up on the web. I had to subscribe, put perhaps Mr. Moneybags future son-in-law will take care of that for me?"

"So you're saying that Grandma knows?" As always, Rory had to sift through an abundance of words to grasp her mother's point.

"Oh, yes. She's happier than she's been in a long time. Since it looked like she'd be having great-grandbabies of the Huntzberger variety, in fact."

"Crap."

"I detected glee. A gleeful Emily Gilmore is a terrifying Emily Gilmore."

"Should I be expecting a phone call from her soon?"

"Yeah. She said she was going to wait awhile and respect your 'quality time' so you have a brief reprieve."

"She didn't say that," Rory groaned. The idea that her grandmother thought she was having sex at that very moment was somewhat disturbing.

"She did. Naturally I, as your mother, had no such qualms. Bamp chicka bow wow."

"It's too early in the morning for simulated porn music, Mom."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. So?"

"So what?"

"Will I be having tall, accented grandbabies anytime soon? Will my daughter be moving to London anytime soon? Will I have to wear a heinous mother of the bride power suit anytime soon? I'll forgive you for holding out on me if you save me from the power suit."

"No to all of the above. And I wasn't holding out on you."

"Yeah, you were. You never mentioned Finn was in town."

"So? I ran into Madeline a couple of weeks ago at Macy's and I didn't mention that, either. Finn's an old friend. It's not a big deal."

"Sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, why would you think I'm not sure?"

"The woman in the picture I'm looking at right now doesn't look sure."

Rory banged her head against the kitchen cabinets behind her.

"Colin? To what do I owe the morning phone call? We talked two days ago, on schedule. You're never one to break a routine, not that it's not a joy to hear your voice, mind you."

His attempt to put Colin on the defensive was not the least bit successful. "I am when I catch one of my best friends in a big, fat lie. I specifically remember asking if you were seeing anyone. I specifically remember you saying, 'No, mate. Haven't come across anyone interesting,'" his affected accent was atrociously reminiscent of Dame Edna, "Now I have proof to the contrary."

"Colin…"

Colin interrupted him, "I know Rory Gilmore, remember? She's plenty interesting."

Finn sighed, and flopped, somewhat uncomfortably on to Rory's couch. He'd really have to talk her into buying something for a tall person, "Colin, it's just a picture. It's not what it looks like."

"A picture's worth a thousand words."

"Thank you for the pearl of wisdom," Finn said sarcastically, "Someone obviously got a 'platitude a day' calendar for their birthday."

"So then you're not in love with Rory Gilmore?" Colin ignored the dig.

"No. I'm definitely in love with her."

"What?" Colin's screech was quite a bit higher than was strictly manly. "You just said it wasn't what it looks like!"

"It's not. It looks like we're together. We are not together; therefore it is not what it looks like."

Colin was silent for a second, "That's possibly the most circular logic, ever."

"I try."

"You just said that you love her."

"I did."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not at this time."

Colin groaned. Whenever you wanted Finn to shut up he'd talk for hours. But when you wanted him to talk he was tighter lipped than a Black Ops CIA agent. "Finn, what are you doing?"

"When you figure it out, I'll let you know. It's a bit of a complex situation, I'll admit."

"Have you talked to Logan about this complex situation?"

Finn banged his head against the arm of the couch behind him.