Chapter Title: A Touch of Indigestion…?
A/N: Hi there! I'm new at writing Gilmore Girl fanfics, so I'd really appreciate any reviews. I'll write another longer chapter if you like it. The awesome song is Sunday Morning, by Maroon 5.
Disclaimer: I don't own thousands of dollars or any rights to Gilmore Girls.
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of. Only a Saturday afternoon work of fiction, courtesy of my imagination, though I take no credit for the characters or setting.
Characters: Rory Gilmore, Logan Huntzberger, Surprise New Addition (hint hint)
Rating: T
Logan Huntzberger tiptoed into the room, grateful for the pitch darkness that surrounded him.
"What do you think you're doing?" He stopped dead still as an accusing voice shattered throughout the room, disturbing the quiet. The steady pattering of rain broke the silence, pelting onto the windows.
Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if l knew
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you
"Coming home to my beautiful wife?" Logan replied. It came out as more of a question than a statement.
"Huh." Rory Gilmore uttered. She glared first at the sleepy form of her husband, then at the digital clock perched on her nightstand.
Flicking on the lights, Logan stood two steps from the alluring queen-sized bed, with Rory lying in a revealing nightgown. "I had a report to finish." He explained.
"Oh, then it's my fault if I get woken by a voluble door slamming shut, unrelenting bright lights turning on and an irksome, arrogant man sauntering into my bedroom." Rory fumed, ignoring his explanation.
Logan shrugged helplessly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Gilmores were crankiest at night and in the morning, and Rory Gilmore was certainly no exception.
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave
"So you come home," She continued, folding her arms over her chest defensively, "at one o'clock in the morning, waking me up in the process, expecting access to the bed?"
Rory eyed him with a glare in her eyes. Logan threw off his shoes and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He looked exhausted.
"Are we fighting?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"Because I don't want to fight. I haven't seen you all day, and you are the single most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on, whom I want to lie beside." Logan said, tilting his head to one side.
Rory's mouth, yielding defeat, curled into a smile. Logan lay down beside Rory, staring deeply into her baby blue eyes, and leaned into her. His hand crept under her nightgown.
Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm
Change the weather still together when it ends
"No fair." Rory protested, rather breathlessly. "You're using your extremely talented fingers to manipulate my emotions."
But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do
Sunday morning rain is falling and I'm calling out to you
Singing someday it'll bring me back to you
Find a way to bring myself back home to you"I love you." He whispered huskily into her mouth before silencing her with his tongue.
And you may not know
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow…
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The next morning, Rory awoke with a start, lying comfortably on top of Logan; his arm draped around her waist and felt a wave of nausea wash over her.
"Oh God!" She put a hand over her mouth, threw back the covers on the bed, pushed Logan off her body, and rushed to the bathroom, before spilling the contents of last night's dinner into the basin.
Logan immediately stirred, a few seconds later appearing at the doorframe of the bathroom.
"Are you regretting that spicy curry from last night?" He said with a slight grin. He stood behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Logan lifted her hair away from her face and softly kissed her neck as another round of vomit came tumbling out.
Rory straightened up, wiped her mouth shakily with a lavender washcloth, and looked fiercely into the twinkling, concerned eyes of her husband.
"Sweetie, I'm hating you a little right now." She shot back through gritted teeth. Logan grinned sympathetically and wrapped his arms around Rory's waist.
"Come on, I'll make you some tea. I don't think coffee's such a good option this morning." Logan took her hand, squeezed it tightly, and led her into the kitchen.
Rory weakly followed and sat precariously on the edge of her seat, as she shut her eyes, in obvious pain. Her face had turned a severe, pale shade of green.
"Baby, I want you to climb back into bed, sleep for twenty minutes, then wake up. After you finish getting dressed, I want you to go to the doctor's. No buts." Logan said firmly, pouring tea into her mug. Rory closed her mouth mid-protest. Her stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels and flips.
"Just a health precaution for my Indian-food-loving Ace. Besides, Doctor Stein's surgery opens really early in the morning, so you won't have to miss that much of work." He winked knowingly.
Rory managed a weak smile and a roll of her eyes, as she gratefully accepted the steaming cup of tea from her devoted husband of two years.