AN: Okay, so I wasn't anticipating this, but things do get a little smutty at one point. So I've changed the rating to M. Sorry if I let you get pulled into this story without warning and you don't go for that kind of thing, but I'm hoping most of you won't mind ;)
"I gots to go on the magic carpet, only it wasn't like Jasmine's. It didn't fly, and it wasn't pwetty colors. But it was still fun. And I made pizza with my skis. And then I had pizza for lunch, only it was yucky." Lila's little face scrunched up in distaste.
Logan chuckled silently as he listened to her tell them all about her day. Seeing the world through the eyes of a three-year-old was always amusing. There was so much joy in her, even when she was describing things she didn't like. "Why was the pizza yucky?" he asked. Why wouldn't it be yucky was probably a safer question. Pizza from a cafeteria in Vermont was a long way away from real New York Pizza. Their kid had been brought up on the good stuff.
"The cheese was weird," she explained. "And the crust. And also, the sauce."
"So basically, all of it," Rory surmised from her spot snuggled up against Logan's side, the paper she'd been reading folded in her lap as she listened to Lila talk while playing with her LOL Surprise dolls.
"Yuh huh," Lila nodded in agreement. "But we gots a bwownie for snack and I love bwownies. And then Miss Susie read us a story about Squirrels on Skis before nap time. And after nap we got to play in da snow and I made a snow angel. And Madison likeded my hat because it had a horse on it and it was purple which is her favowit color, just like mine. And I got to tell her all about how I have my own horseys and she thought that was sooooo cool."
"You don't have any horseys," Rory reminded her daughter. Gramcy Lorelai has horseys at the inn, and Uncle Colin has a horsey, but you don't have a horsey…" she turned to give a pointed look at Logan. "And you won't be getting one."
"But I thought Unca Colin's horse was yours too, don't you share?" He heard Rory sigh. She hated horses. But Colin, for some strange reason, had gifted half ownership of his racing thoroughbred to Rory. She'd tried on more than one occasion to give up her stake in the beast, but Colin refused. Which meant Lila likely would have her own horse eventually, once Queenie's racing days were over.
"That's not exactly how it works, Bean," Logan informed her. "Queenie is a special kind of horse who runs races. She lives with a special trainer. That's why we only get to see her at the racetrack."
"Yeah, but sometimes after a wace Unca Colin lets me give her a cawot. That makes us fwends."
"Can't argue with that logic," Rory laughed. "I know giving me food is the quickest way to earn my friendship."
"I don't like cawots," Lila said. "Or peas. Peas are yucky." She stuck out her tongue.
Logan laughed. "One of the few things you have in common with Grandpa Mitch. That and the way you take so naturally to bossing other people around."
"Hey," Rory objected sitting up. "Lila is not bossy, she just knows what she likes."
"I didn't say bossy was a bad thing."
Rory tiled her head and glared. "You compared her to your father."
"I was joking," Logan defended. "And besides, by comparing her to my father that takes away any gender-based connotations to the word." Rory continued to glare.
"Fine," Logan acquiesced. "She shares Mitchum's dislike of peas and his innate leadership abilities. Better?"
"Yes," Rory agreed. "Hey Lila, why don't you and I go make some popcorn for the movie while Dad takes Truman for his walk?"
Truman, upon hearing the "w" word, immediately jumped off the couch and started running in circles around the room, barking and wagging his tail. Lila giggled jubilantly at his antics. Lila had been begging them for a dog for about as long as she'd been able to pronounce the word "doggy." And when Paul Anka had died last year, even Rory had found herself missing the presence of a canine companion. But their work schedules and constant travelling had not been conducive to the introduction of a new dog into the house. But then the pandemic hit and they'd both found themselves working from home the vast majority of the time. So, with the extra time on their hands, and the lack of other social interactions, they'd finally given in. And when Lila met the lovable, enthusiastic, doofy, black lab mix, her reaction had made it all worth it; it had been love at first site.
"Can I go wit Daddy?" she asked, chasing after Truman.
"No, Bean," Logan said standing up from his spot on the couch. "It's dark and there's a lot of snow and ice. You stay inside with Mommy. I bet if you ask reeeeal nice, she'll let you make unicorn popcorn." Unicorn popcorn was Lila's favorite. The popcorn was tossed with pink food dye and drizzled with pink and blue candy melts to create a disgusting rainbow confection.
Rory groaned but relented. "We'll make half unicorn and keep half plain for us boring grown-ups." Logan laughed, knowing that Rory would wind up eating the unicorn crap anyway. She was a Gilmore, the sweeter and more disgusting a treat, the more they loved it.
"Yippee." Lila jumped around. She ran to her Mom and grabbed her arm, pulling her up off the couch and guiding her into the kitchen.
Logan headed for the sliding doors that led to the deck and the yard behind. He put on his coat, scarf, hat and gloves, then leaned over, slapping his legs to summon the pup. "Common Buddy." Truman came running over, skidding to a stop and sitting in front of Logan's legs, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and almost down to the ground as he wiggled excitedly. Logan snapped on the leash and headed out the door.
Logan breathed in the fresh, crisp air as he made his way down the deck stairs to the snow-covered lawn. His mother-in-law had this thing about being able to smell snow, and some people thought she was crazy, but Logan knew exactly what she meant. Maybe it wasn't so much a smell, as a feeling. The feeling of fresh, crisp, snowy air coating the inside of his nose and throat and tingling in his lungs. It was one of the great pleasures of life. That feeling, that smell, it always brought him back to the slopes. Back to those rare moments as a kid when his family had actually felt like a family. Most of their vacations were to places like Paris or Rome where they'd walk around museums and visit his parent's stuffy friends and business associates. But ski vacations were family vacations. Logan remembered sitting aside his father on the chair lift as a kid with his Dad giving him pointers on how to master those moguls. He remembered his Mom greeting him and Honor at the end of the day with a cup of hot cocoa (The instant kind, of course because his mother was still Shira, but at least she did it, because during ski trips they would give the nanny time off). He remembered them all sitting together in the evenings and duking it out over a blood thirsty game of Trivial Pursuit.
That's why he'd worked so hard to convince Rory to give this a try. Skiing was the only time in his childhood he'd felt happy, the only time he'd felt like he was part of a real family. And he wanted to be able to recreate those moments for Lila.
But he should have known better. Rory could barely walk down a hill without stumbling, let alone ski down one. And when he'd gotten that voicemail earlier telling him she'd been in an accident he'd almost thrown himself down the mountain just to get to her quicker. The only time in his entire life he'd been quite so scared was when Lila was just over a year old and she'd rolled of the bed when he'd had his back turned to grab her clean onesie. But at least then he'd been right there with her.
Logan had lost Rory more times than he cared to admit. And most, if not all of them had been his own fault. But if he lost her now… He didn't know how he'd go on without her; how their daughter would go on without her. He never should have pushed her to get on those skis; she sure as hell wouldn't be getting on them again.
The only good thing about all this was that she didn't seem to be mad at him. If anything, she'd been acting even more attentive and devoted all afternoon. Actually, it was kind of weird.
Logan's thoughts were interrupted as Truman stopped to do his business. He pulled a doggie bag out of his pocket and bent down to clean up after him, then headed back into the house, disposing of the waste in an outdoor trash can near the base of the deck steps.
He made his way back in to see his wife and daughter preparing the candy melts while the air popper popped away.
"Did we pick a movie?" he asked as he disposed himself of his outerwear. "We're not watching Fr—"
"Shh!" Rory hushed him with a panicked look in her eye. "Don't mention the 'F' word." Logan grimaced in distress. "We're going to watch Ice Age," she informed him. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't exactly Schindler's List, but at least it wasn't Frozen. Or Frozen 2.
"I'll get it set up," he said with a smile, heading over to the family area to pull the movie up on the Roku and start the fire. He glanced back over at Rory and Lila who were smiling as they drizzled melted candy over a bowl of pink popcorn. Maybe Rory would never get on skis again, but ski vacations would always fill him with joy.
Truman's big, blocky head rested on Logan's left thigh. Lila was asleep, her torso reclined against Rory's with her little legs draped over his lap, her toes precariously close to Truman's notoriously overactive tongue. The fingers of Rory's left hand were interwoven with his, while her right hand gently combed through Lila's flaxen locks.
His legs were going numb but he had no desire to move as the movie credits played.
"Skiing's not so bad," Rory said softly so as not to wake the slumbering child.
"Really?" Logan chuckled.
"Okay, well skiing sucks. But this part I could learn to live with."
"Well, as long as you can 'learn to live with it,'" he joked with a laid-back smile.
"I aim to please."
Logan reached his left hand across his body to gently caress her face. "You succeed," he told her, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Thank you for doing this for me. It means a lot. My family, well…ski trips are some of the few good childhood memories I have with them."
Rory closed her eyes, inhaling softly as a peaceful look washed over her face. "I want our…" there was an infinitesimal pause, "family to have lots of good memories."
"Me too," Logan agreed.
"We should get her to bed," Rory nodded at the kid they were trapped beneath.
"Just another minute," he replied. He took a few seconds to revel in the feel of being wrapped up in everyone he loved before finally moving to shift Lila into his arm so he could carry her to bed.
The three of them made their way upstairs with Truman tagging behind. Rory opened the door to Lila's bedroom for him and he proceeded to the bunk bed along the wall, laying Lila down on the bottom bed where the covers were still mussed from the night before. He took the quilt and straightened it out, tucking her in tightly. He paused for a moment, reveling in the sweet innocence of her. As much as Logan adored his daughter's youthful enthusiasm and zest for life, watching her sleeping so peacefully was the best feeling the world.
Finally he turned around to see Rory leaning against the door frame, watching with the same serene look he imagined he'd had a moment before as he had watched Lila.
"You're an amazing Dad," she told him as he walked her way.
"Well, I've got a pretty great kid—and an amazing wife."
Rory shook her head languidly. "I agree she's pretty great, and your wife is amazing, but you…you are…" she paused, "well I don't have my thesaurus on me at the moment, but even if I did, I'm not sure there's a superlative strong enough to describe you."
Logan looked at her suspiciously, cocking his head to the side. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head on that fall?"
Rory just chuckled quietly, reaching up to stroke his temple, then leaning forwards to press her lips forcefully into his. "I love you," she whispered.
He smiled contently. "I love you too." They stood there for a couple of minutes, just staring into each other's eyes like lovesick school kids.
"So," he finally broke the silence. "What do you want to do now? We could watch a grown-up movie."
Rory just shook her head.
"Ooh, we could go in the hot tub," he smirked. "Very therapeutic after a sports injury."
Rory seemed to perk up for a moment as she contemplated this idea, but then her face fell and her shoulders slumped. It was an odd reaction, Logan noted. "I think it's supposed to be ice first, then heat," she said.
"We could roll around in the snow first," he teased.
Rory smiled sanguinely before grabbing his hand. "Truman, go sleep with Lila," she told the dog, pointing to the bed with her free hand. Truman looked back and forth from the adults to the sleeping child, before trotting over to the bed, jumping on, and curling up by Lila's feet. Rory dimmed the lights in the room and tugged Logan's hand, guiding him out of the room and down the hall to the master bedroom.
Rory opened the door and backed into the room, pulling Logan with her. Her eyes were dark and heady, her pupils dilated. It was a look that was unmistakable to Logan.
"Are you sure?" he asked, closing the door behind them. "You're feeling alright? You're not too sore or anything?"
"I'm a little sore," Rory acknowledged. "But it's mostly from several hours of being made to stand in my 'athletic pose, like I'm getting ready to hit a volleyball,'" Rory laughed. "I didn't have the heart to tell her that, aside from that one tragic gym class junior year at Chilton, I've never played volleyball."
"I doubt you missed your calling," he backed her up against the wall.
"Probably not."
He leaned his head down, pressing his lips to the pulse point just below her ear. "You're sure there aren't any injuries. Nothing you might need me to kiss better?" he asked, his voice husky.
"I fell on my butt," she giggled.
"Well, then," he spun her around so her front was pressed against the wall, running his hands down her sides to her ass. He kissed the back of her neck while his fingers curled around the waist band of her flannel pajama bottoms, pushing them down to expose the swell of her bottom. He got down on his knees, his hands caressing her back side before placing a whispering kiss on one cheek, then the other. He felt her body melt a little. "Better?" he asked teasingly.
"Mmm," Rory hummed. "A little."
He let his hands travel down the outside of her legs, then stroked lightly back up the insides, pushing them apart to give himself room. He grabbed her by the waist, tugging her butt towards him so she was bent over, her forearms perched against the wall for support.
He palmed the round of her ass with both his hands. "Where does it hurt?" he asked. He leaned forward to place another kiss, this one more firm, on her ass.
"A little lower," she whispered throatily.
Logan moved his lips infinitesimally lower. "Now?"
"Lower."
He inched his way down ever so slightly, letting his fingers dance at the crease of her bottom, so close to her center he could feel the heat starting to pool there.
"Lower."
He moved his fingers inward, using them to spread her lips apart before finally bringing his mouth to its prime location and placing a tongueless kiss to her opening. He felt her weight shift forward a touch as her head dropped down helplessly.
"There?" he asked with a grin, not removing his lips from her skin.
"There," she hissed. He let his nose drag along her slit, spreading her wetness. "Oh god."
He finally released his tongue, letting it lap against her folds. She sighed and he felt her legs tremble. He used his hands to steady her as his mouth plundered her pussy; licking, sucking, laving at her opening, his tongue darting deeper and deeper.
She tried to muffle her cries as best she could but as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, she couldn't hold back any longer. "Fuck, Logan. Yes, yes, yes," she chanted. Then, with one final thrust of his tongue, a deep, guttural groan came tumbling from her mouth as her whole body shook and went limp, leaning forward into the wall to catch her weight. Logan remained where he was for a moment, continuing to help hold her up until he was sure the strength had returned to her legs. He stood up with a satisfied smirk on his face.
"How we feeling now?" he asked over her shoulder.
'"It's a start," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. She turned herself around to face him. She took her thumb, running it over his lips and then bringing it to her mouth to taste.
Logan groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. "The things you do to me, Ace."
The corner of her mouth turned up friskily. "I haven't even begun to do the things I'm going to do to you," she warned, pulling her pajama top off and walking naked towards the bed. She gave a flippant glance over her shoulder at him before crawling onto the mattress. Logan quickly divested himself of his clothes and joined her.
He lay on his back, one arm folded under him and the other out to his side supporting Rory's head. She was lying on her side, an arm draped over his torso, a leg wrapped around his. He was thoroughly sated and the drowsiness was starting to take over.
"Logan," Rory said, startling him out of his post sex stupor. He let his head flop to the side to look at her. She propped her top half up on her forearm, the blankets slipping down to reveal her naked breasts. Logan felt a slight stirring at the sight, but not enough to overcome the torpor that ran through him. It seemed so very not long ago that he could go all night. He missed those days, but as he approached his 39th year he had the feeling they wouldn't be coming back. Still, these days he appreciated just lying together, skin against skin.
"What's up, Ace?" he mumbled.
"I have to tell you something."
"Hmm?" he asked, feeling his eyes start to shut again.
"Logan," she whined, reaching her hand out to shake him.
"What?" he shook his head, blinking his eyes. "I'm up, I'm up."
"I have to tell you something," Rory repeated.
"Can't it wait until morning?" he asked sleepily.
"No," her voice squeaked anxiously. "I need to tell you now."
He sat up at the urgency in her voice, suddenly very awake. "What's going on?"
Rory sighed, sitting up too, folding her legs underneath herself and shifting to face him. She wrapped her hands around her middle protectively.
"I wasn't going to tell you this…"
His eyes widened and his heart clenched. They had no secrets from each other. Not these days. Open communication, full disclosure. It had taken them a long time to get there but it was the very foundation on which they had salvaged their relationship. No way was she planning on keeping something from him.
"Yet!" she clarified. "I wasn't going to tell you this yet. I mean, with your birthday coming up, I just thought…" she trailed off.
He relaxed a little, though the peaceful sex induced haze was gone for good, replaced by an air of tension.
"What's going on, Rory?" he growled.
Rory sighed, gazing down at her lap.
"I found something out at the doctor today."
Logan's whole body froze as his stomach churned. "You said you weren't hurt. I mean, we just…" he gestured frantically to the bed. The things they had done were quite advanced and not conducive to any kind of healing.
"I'm not hurt," she cut him off, grasping for his hand to squeeze. "And I wasn't keeping this a secret from you. I just wanted to tell you in the right way. But I couldn't wait. I was just lying here and I realized that I couldn't keep this from you for a single day."
Logan took a shuddering breath. "So they found what?" he asked. "Are you sick?"
"I'm not sick," she shook her head.
"Rory, I really need you to just tell me what's going on." Logan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to center himself. He was going to be sick in a minute. "What did the doctor find?"
Rory reached forward, smoothing out the worry creases on his forehead, "Don't fret, silly boy," she assured him softly, then she dropped her hands to grasp his, twining their fingers together. With her left hand, she guided his right one towards her. Flipping their grip around, she pressed his palm flat against her stomach.
Logan gasped, leaning back to stare at their hands. He pushed back the overwhelming swell of emotion, needing to get confirmation first. He glanced up to meet her eyes and he watched as her lips slowly curled up into a smile and she nodded her head.
"You're pregnant?" he whispered reverently, needing even more corroboration before he could let himself feel it.
"I'm pregnant," she beamed
"We're pregnant," he laughed with joy.
"I'm sorry," she told him. "I thought it would be a good birthday surprise, but I just couldn't wait, I…"
He watched as her eyes darkened and tears started to brim at the bottom of them."
"Hey," he said, reaching up to wipe away the moisture. "No crying."
"I know," she nodded with a sniffle. "It's just, I made you miss it all last time and I suddenly realized that if I waited until next week I'd be robbing you of part of it all over again."
"Oh, Ace," he breathed out. "That is not the same thing."
"I know," she sniffled again. "But I just couldn't risk it."
He knew what she meant. He'd forgiven her for not telling him when she was pregnant with Lila. They'd both had to forgive each other for a lot to make this work. But a part of him had been worried about how he'd feel if this moment ever came around. He wasn't even sure he wanted it to. A part of him longed to be able to have a do-over. To be there for all the moments he'd missed with Lila. To feel the first kick, to see the ultrasounds, to find out the sex; hell, even to hold Rory's hair back as she puked, or go running to the store at 3AM for ice cream and pickles. And most of all, to be there, holding her hand as she pushed their child out into the word. And yet, a part of him had feared it. Things were so good with them now. He was afraid of messing that up. He feared that experiencing all those milestones with a new baby would bring back the resentments he had felt over missing them with his first. Was it worth the risk?
And so, when Paris started making heavy handed comments about Rory's aging eggs and geriatric pregnancies, he and Rory had had to decide what they wanted to do. Only neither of them were really sure, and so they'd decided to leave it up to fate. They would stop all forms of birth control and just see what happened. That had been almost a year ago.
He'd had no idea how much he'd wanted it until this very moment.
"Rory?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"Are you happy?"
Rory swallowed, licking her lips. "Yeah," she nodded, her voice choking up, "I'm really happy."
"Me too," he assured her. He brought his hand back to her stomach, trying to silently commune with the little clump of cells growing in there. He knew they still had a long way to go. Paris had no qualms about talking miscarriage rates and birth defects until her face was blue. But Logan didn't care about any of that right now. It would be okay, he knew it; he could feel it. They were having a baby. And at that moment, he couldn't be happier.
So, there you have it. As most of you seemed to guess, Rory is indeed pregnant. Lila is going to get a little brother or sister. And maybe one day you'll get to meet them in another companion piece, but for now, it's back to writing our main story, RLH...and Family Affairs. Seriously, if you haven't given Family Affairs a fair shot, go do it-now. I promise you won't regret it.
Also, as a veterinarian, I must advise that I do not-I repeat, do NOT-recommend pulling a Rory and Logan and getting yourself a quarantine pup. Seriously, there are more new dogs than there are vets to care for them and when you go back to working in an office the separation anxiety will be a site to behold. Thank you for coming to me TED talk, that is all.
