Author's Note: Okay first off, I got way more feed back than I expected (even though I only got four so far). But still. You guys seemed to like it, and I seem to be on a roll with writing and other creative things. I'm feeling good about this, so before my muse runs away in fear, I am going to (attempt) to write a sequel to From the Trenches.

Yeah so… Here goes.

From the Trenches: Revisited by SpiceyGurl

Part I

Logan wasn't having a good day, to say the least. Not that the day had even begun for him yet. But last night (and early this morning) had been bad. We're talking Dante's ninth level of hell bad. His life was a divine comedy. Having the girl of his dreams, only to lose her because he slept with an entire wedding party. People had done worse! It was only four girls… at least it wasn't five.

Last night, he and Colin and Finn had gotten very, very drunk. They had to call up Stephanie to come and get them because they were all too drunk to walk in a straight line, much less drive home.

His head was pounding. It felt like a sludge hammer was beating against his skull. No, wait. That was the door.

Logan rolled out of bed, or at least he tried to. His legs got tangled and he ended up on the floor wrapped up in his duvet. He glanced up just in time to see Paris enter the apartment.

"Why the hell did you knock if you had keys?"

"I wanted to make sure I didn't catch you with your pants down, Casanova. Seeing you naked is not something I ever, ever want to experience. I was also clinging to the hope that you had gotten hit by a car last night while you were, no doubt, stumbling around drunk. I'm here to collect Rory's stuff."

When Paris said Rory, Logan visibly flinched.

"Don't. Don't even say her name."

"It's not her fault you couldn't rein your primal needs in. If you had kept it in your pants, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"I KNOW!" Logan screamed, startling Paris. And in a quieter voice, "I know. It's my fault. She was so good to me, for me…Just take her things and leave."

Paris glared at him with as much hate as she could muster. It would make a grown man cry. This stupid, insipid boy had broken Rory's heart more times than she could count.

"There's extra luggage in the closet. I'm going back to bed."

Paris gathered Rory's things and left, making sure to slam the door behind her.

Part II

"I want that too. I think we can make it work."

Jess leaned in close to Rory and captured her lips with his own. Rory couldn't help but smile. She could smell him. God, she had missed his smell. There was something so distinct about it. He smelled like cigarettes and soap and something that was so Jess, she couldn't get enough of it.

Rory leaned in and deepened the kiss farther, until she felt as though they were one person. All the waiting and the fights, and him leaving, it had all worked out.

Rory was jolted out of her pleasant dreaming, when she felt something brush against her side. She slowly opened her eyes, not wanting to let go of her dream. She looked down and noticed an arm…which was attached to a body… which didn't have a shirt on.

Then she noticed something even better. Jess was wrapped up in a plaid blanket. She couldn't help it, she started giggling uncontrollably. She was trying not to wake Jess but holding it in did no good. She was shaking with silent laughter, and it woke Jess up.

"What are you doing," he mumbled. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"You have a plaid blanket! Luke would be so proud."

"Are you serious? You woke me up to mock me? You, Gilmore, need to do something else with your lips."