AN: I was struggling a bit with this chapter yesterday so I took a little break, and decided to write a "missing" scene from RLH. It could actually be the next scene in the story, except that it's from Rory's POV, so I posted it in "Rediscovering: Interludes" where I'd previously posted the gazebo scene where Rory tells Lorelai she's pregnant. If you haven't checked it out you should. Also, if you haven't read Rediscovering Logan Huntzberger, you should read that first. Anyhow, today I got back to this piece and it was definitely flowing better. Hope you enjoy the special night Logan planned.

PS—yay! For all of you who correctly guessed that the beginning of last chapter was an homage to The Prince and Me. I love that movie

There was a knocking on the door and Rory stopped her relentless pacing through the common room to race for the entrance.

"Pathetic," Paris grumbled from her spot on the couch. Rory's acerbic roommate was one of the unfortunate students with a Saturday morning final, but she seemed to be far more interested in Rory's love life than in her statistics studies. She'd been pestering Rory all afternoon.

"Love you too, Paris," Rory rolled her eyes.

"Gloria Steinem would be rolling over in her grave if she could see you."

"Gloria Steinem is alive," Rory reminded her friend. "She gave a lecture here a couple months ago. Also, she's pro female sexuality. In fact, if Gloria Steinem where here she'd tell you to stop slut shaming me."

Paris grumbled something about being able to do better, under her breath, and went back to calculating confidence intervals.

Rory tucked a stray hair behind her ear and opened the door to greet her boyfriend. He was leaning against the door frame wearing a wool overcoat and his patented smirk. His hands were behind his back.

"Hey!" Rory greeted, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest.

"Hey," he returned, puckering his lips and leaning in for a quick kiss. Rory happily obliged. "For you," he said once their lips had parted. He pulled his hands out from behind his back, brandishing a bulbus, green succulent in a terracotta pot.

"Umm…thanks," Rory said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She took the plant and set it on a table next to the sofa.

"It's a cactus." Paris commented dryly. "Gee Rory, you picked a real winner. No boy has ever bought me a cactus before."

"Hello to you too, Paris," Logan greeted sarcastically. "It's nice to see you're as direct as always. It's good that some things never change."

"Well," Rory said, returning her attention to the cactus. "It is a little unconventional, but I appreciate the way you think outside the box."

"It's a miracle he thinks at all."

"Paris," Rory chided.

Logan laughed. "It's fine, we should get going anyway. We've got early dinner reservations. We're on a tight schedule." Even Paris couldn't ruin his mood today.

"Let me just grab my coat." She turned and headed for the coat closet in the corner.

"These your bags?" Logan asked, nodding to a carry-on suitcase and a Vera Bradly duffle bag.

"Uh huh," she confirmed, slipping her peacoat on.

Logan gathered up her luggage as she wound a scarf around her neck and started buttoning up her jacket.

"Bye Paris," Rory waved as she followed Logan out of the suite. Rory closed the door and when she turned back, Logan was there, pressing her up against the entryway. He pulled her in for a breathtaking kiss, much less proper than the one he'd given her when she opened the door.

"I missed you," he whispered breathily once they'd broken apart.

"I missed you too," she smiled coyly.

"I like your dress," he told her, even though he couldn't see it anymore. She was in a black, knee length dress. The top, above the sweetheart neckline, was lace; demure but teasingly tantalizing. It was a good thing she had her coat on now. And also, that Paris was there. Otherwise they might never have made it out of the room.

"Thanks," she replied blushing slightly. He leaned in for another kiss. Their lips danced for a few seconds before Rory broke it up. "Why a cactus?" she asked. She felt Logan smirk, his face still millimeters from hers. He brought his thumb up to caress her bottom lip which was slightly swollen from their lip lock.

"I'm gonna let you figure that one out," he replied evasively.

"But…" Rory protested.

"Don't worry," he cut her off. "You'll figure it out. I have faith in you.

Rory huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Now, now, no pouting," Logan laughed. He grabbed Rory's suitcase with one hand, and her hand in his other, pulling them both towards the courtyard. "The car is over by the Beinecke, let's go."

"What?" Rory screeched. "Logan, that's like, a ten-minute walk. There had to be at least 3 parking lots that were closer."

"So?"

"So?! So, it's 40 degrees and I'm wearing heels and a dress."

"It's not that bad," he said. "We'll get some coffee on the way to keep you warm."

Rory grumbled in annoyance but started walking. "You're buying me a large mocha with an extra shot."

"What the lady wants, the lady gets," Logan replied placatingly.

"The lady wants heated seats and a foot massage," she mumbled.

"Well, the car has heated seats, but the foot massage will have to wait until the later part of the evening," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He tried to keep it light and playful but the imagery that came into his mind was quite vivid. He'd never fancied himself much of a foot man, and yet… He shook the images from his head, trying to concentrate on something else.

Rory was shivering. He placed his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, hoping that the body heat would help.

"Over there," Rory pointed out after walking for a few minutes. She started veering off towards the coffee stand.

"No," Logan shook his head pulling her back towards him.

"You promised me coffee."

"Yeah, but not there. The next coffee cart is much better."

"The coffee is exactly the same," she countered. "All the carts use the same beans from the same suppliers."

"Will you just trust me," Logan laughed. She was cute when she was grumbly.

"My toes are numb. I think my trust froze along with them."

"It's just a couple more minutes," he placated. "I promise you will not lose any appendages to frostbite."

She sighed, figuring there was something specific awaiting. "This better be worth it, Huntzberger."

"No promises," he grinned. Rory felt the coldness dissipate a little at the site; it was hard to be mad at him with that grin. She silently wondered how she had managed to do so for so long while they were apart. Of course, the answer was in the being apart. Once he was back in her life she knew her anger wouldn't last.

They walked in silence as they approached the coffee cart near the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. When it came into view, Rory hurried her pace towards the cart, grateful that there was no line. As she drew closer she noticed that the kiosk was lit up with sparkly lights and decorated with red roses. She smiled brightly. She knew he'd planned something. When she got to her coffee oasis, she quickly placed her order before turning back to her boyfriend.

"Okay, I guess this is kinda cute, though, I still don't see why you couldn't have done it at a closer kiosk."

Logan shook his head. "You still have no idea," he laughed, taking one of the flowers from the kiosk and handing it to her.

"No idea of what?"

"Nothing, you'll figure it out," he replied. "Look up," he added walking towards her until she was backed up against the cart

Rory looked up to see mistletoe hanging above her. "So, I guess this means I'm supposed to kiss…" she glanced over her shoulder to read the name tag on the man preparing her coffee, "…Ryan."

"You could go that route," Logan acquiesced. "Of course, if you choose Ryan you'll never find out what I have planned next."

Rory seemed to ponder this. "Weeeell…I mean, I do hate not knowing things."

"Exactly."

"Fine," Rory feigned exasperation. She placed her left hand on his chest and wound her other hand up his neck to pull his head towards her for a kiss. Her lips were open and his tongue slipped inside to massage hers. His arm was around her waist, pulling her close.

When the kiss ended, she turned around to see a red-faced Ryan sanding there awkwardly holding her coffee. "Sorry, Ryan," she apologized. "It's nothing personal." She plucked the coffee cup from his hands and helped herself to a hearty swig. "Thanks" she flashed a smile at the barista before grabbing Logan's hand and dragging him off towards the car.

They reached his Porsche and Rory quickly slipped into the passenger seat away from the elements while Logan opened the hood to stash her carry-on in the well. He placed her duffle in the back seat before settling himself in and starting the car. Rory immediately blasted the heat. He also noticed that she'd already removed her shoes.

"Thank god," she moaned as she removed her gloves and rubbed her hands in front of the air vent.

Logan took a moment to admire her as she settled into her seat. "Comfy?" he asked.

"You know, I'm not really a 'car girl' but I swear these seats are like sitting on clouds."

"Heated clouds," he reminded her, leaning forward to hit a button. Rory felt a warmth immediately start to emanate from underneath her.

"Heaven," she cried.

Logan started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards Rte. 95.

"Where are we going?" Rory asked.

"Dinner."

Rory rolled her eyes. "And then?"

"Then, you'll see." Rory tried to weasel some information out of him for a few more minutes before giving up. They talked a little bit about their week and their finals, until Logan pulled off the highway. A few more turns had them heading into a restaurant parking lot.

"Hey, I know this place," Rory stated as they pulled up to the restaurant.

"Do you, now?" Logan smiled, knowing that she was finally catching on. It was about time.

"This is where you took me to that dinner my grandparents shanghaied me into."

"Our first date," he replied, getting out of the car and handing the keys to the valet. He came around the car to help her out.

"It wasn't a date," she reminded him, taking his hand and standing up. "I hated you."

"But did you? Really?" he asked playfully.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on that," he replied calmly as they approached the maître 'd.

"Mr. Huntzberger, Ms. Gilmore," the man greeted them unprompted. "Your table is right this way."

"Agree to disagree?" Rory scoffed, following the man to their table. "You can't argue with me about my own feelings."

"Can't I?" he replied, as their host pulled out a seat for Rory.

"No," she replied, throwing her hands up in exasperation as she sat.

Logan took a seat across from her and turned to the maître 'd. "We'll take a bottle of the Chianti Classico Reserva," he ordered.

"Very well, sir," the man replied, walking away to fill the order without even asking for ID.

"I can argue with you about anything," Logan stated, turning his attention back to his girlfriend. "It's one of the things I enjoy most," he grinned. "And you may have outwardly hated me in the beginning, but mostly you hated how much you didn't hate me."

"You were an entitled ass who only wanted to get me in bed," Rory huffed.

Logan's eyes darkened with lust as he leaned forward. "And in a few hours, I will have succeeded," he whispered huskily. Rory felt her cheeks flame red.

"Is this the same table as last time?" she suddenly asked, noticing her surroundings more acutely as she avoided Logan's intense gaze.

"Unless you'd like that private room now?" he joked, sitting back in his chair.

"No," Rory shook her head, returning her eyes to his. "This is perfect," she smiled. He was right—their arguments were exhilarating. It was amazing how he could get her all riled up and then diffuse the situation with a single look or cheeky statement.

"Good," he nodded resolutely. "I want everything to be perfect tonight."

And it had been so far. Even their freezing cold walk to the car, though she still couldn't figure out...and then it hit her. "That was the coffee cart where we first met!" she blurted out.

His lips curled up triumphantly. "Now that time you really did hate me," he laughed. Rory laughed with him.

"Yeah, you were a jackass."

"Lucky for you, this jackass doesn't give up easily."

"No, you definitely don't."

"And the cactus?" he asked, knowing that by now she would understand the significance.

"The Jardin Exotique," she answered with a knowing smile.

"Mr. Handsome and Charming at your service," he joked, pretending to tip a make-believe hat on his head.

"It's like 'This is Your Life' relationship edition," she teased, feeling warm inside at the thought. Logan was celebrating important moments in their history. It was the sweetest thing she could imagine. She wondered what other scenes from the story of them he would pick.

Rory ordered the penne ala vodka—the same meal she'd had the first time they'd dined there. This time, though, she'd let herself indulge in a glass of the wine. It was a perfect meal.

"Here," Logan said as they were polishing off dessert. He pulled a small box, tied with a ribbon, from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

"For me?" she asked with a giddy smile. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, I did," he informed her as she untied the bow and lifted the lid off the box.

Her eyebrows raised suspiciously. "Okay, again with the stumper," she told him, lifting the laminated card from its package. It was an exact replica of her driver's license, save one difference. Her birth year was changed to 1982.

"You're gonna need that for the next stop," he informed her.

"We seem to be managing without it so far," she reminded him, tapping her finger nail on the almost empty bottle of chianti.

"They might be a little stricter where we're going next, especially if you win."

Win? Rory laughed. "Blackjack," she added knowingly.

"You got it, Ace."

A little while later they made their way through a bank of slot machines under a glass dome ceiling displaying a beautiful array of incredibly realistic stars. The sounds of bells and whistles punctuated the air, breaking up the din of hundreds of conversations. Crystal sculptures reached towards the sky, and there was even a waterfall.

It wasn't really Rory's scene, but it was beautiful, and it did bring back memories.

"Just a few hands," Logan told her, as they approached the table section of the casino. "For old times' sake," he replied blithely. He could tell that she was feeling a little out of place. "Gotta get my Ace an ace. Our show starts in an hour anyway."

They made their way past the roulette, and the craps and finally came upon some blackjack tables. "Here," Rory said, pointing to two empty seats.

Logan looked at the sign, "$10 minimum" and almost laughed. The smallest bet he'd ever made was ten times that amount. But he wasn't really here to gamble. He wasn't a high roller tonight, he was a boyfriend. A man who had planned a romantic night for his girl. And he knew this was where Rory would feel most comfortable. He pulled out a stool for her before taking his own seat.

"You remember how to play?" he asked.

"Price is Right," she replied. "And aces are special."

He chuckled lightly, reaching a hand out to brush a strand of hair behind Rory's ear, letting his thumb gently trail over the edge of her lobe and down to caress her jawline. "Absolutely." Rory shivered at the contact and the roughness in his voice.

He took out a few bills and handed them to the dealer who exchanged them for chips. Logan handed a few of them to Rory before placing a bet in front of him.

The cards were dealt swiftly. Logan had a pair of eights. Rory, a six and a nine. Rory wrinkled up her nose at the hand. "Should I stay?" she asked, looking at the dealer's seven.

"You have to assume the dealer has seventeen. If you stay, you'll lose," Logan tried to explain.

"But if I hit, I'll probably go over," she argued. "But if I stay and he doesn't have a ten, then he could go over."

"Bust," Logan informed her. "Going over is called busting. And the book says you stay."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her eyes glazed over and she looked a little lost.

"Ace," he scolded, "please tell me you're not trying to do the math."

Rory came out of her daze. "So what if I am?"

"Well, first of all, someone's already done the math on every possible configuration of hands. And they've already figured out that you're supposed to hit on a 15 against a seven. Second of all, Casinos tend to frown upon people doing math at the tables."

"It's not like I'm frickin' Rainman," she argued. "I'm just trying to calculate the probabilities."

"Which is exactly what Rainman said."

"I don't remember that line from the movie…"

"Have we made a decision?" the dealer asked, with barely concealed annoyance.

"She'll hit," Logan replied.

"No!" Rory said haughtily. "I'm going to stay." She cut her hand through the air like Logan had taught her in Monte Carlo.

"Very well, Ma'am."

Logan rolled his eyes, then informed the dealer he was splitting his eights. He wound up with 18 on one hand and a bust on the other.

The dealer revealed his hidden card—a jack.

Rory pouted. "I lost your pretty chips," she said.

Logan laughed. "Don't worry, that expression on your face it totally worth the ten bucks."

They played few more hands, until Rory finally got a blackjack. She bounced in her seat excitedly as the dealer more than doubled the stack of chips she'd bet.

Logan glanced at his watch—8:40. "Perfect place to end," he commented, gathering up the chips and handing them to the dealer to color up. "Our show starts soon."

"And what show would that be?" she asked for the billionth time.

She wasn't expecting an answer, but he pulled out a couple of tickets anyway and handed them to her.

"The Nutcracker?" she asked.

"I thought you deserved to see a good ballet," he responded.

"As long as I don't have to write a review," she smiled.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," he responded, his meaning going far deeper than just responding to her statement.

She placed her hand gently on his knee and squeezed reassuringly. "I know."

Rory started to stand-up, but he stopped her. "One more thing," he told her. "He reached into the pocket of his sports jacket and pulled out another box, slightly larger than the one at the restaurant that had the fake ID.

"What kind of illegal contraband do we have in here?" she joked taking the package. "Blueprints to pull an Ocean's 11?"

"Don't joke about that in here," he warned her. "They like that even less than the Rainman stuff."

"They're very uptight," she commented.

"Yes," Logan laughed, "they are."

Rory rolled her eyes, as she lifted the top off the box. The humor immediately went out of her voice. "Logan" she breathed reverently as she looked at the contents within.

She carefully fingered the charm bracelet that lay within. There was a coffee mug, a cactus, a newspaper, a ballerina, and a playing card—etched with an A and featuring a small, ruby heart. "It's perfect."

He smiled wistfully and took the jewelry from her, undoing the clasp and gently placing it around her wrist. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," she promised, leaning in to show him just how much. Her lips pressed forcefully to his. Her hands were back on his leg. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as her hand slipped higher. Dear god, it was just a few more hours. He just needed to make it a few more hours.

He put his hand over hers and pulled back. "We should go," He told her. The last thing he really wanted to do at that moment was go to the ballet. He'd be bored crazy, with nothing to do but think about what would happen after. He might go crazy before he even made it through the next few hours.

They stood up, and Logan placed his hand gently on the small of her back as he led her silently to the theater.

The room filled with applause. Rory and Logan stood, along with everyone else, as the first act ended.

"They're so talented," Rory admired, as the applause died down.

"They are," Logan agreed. Not that he'd been paying attention. He'd mostly been preoccupied by tracing patterns on the inside of Rory's leg. He'd been experimenting with how high he could go before she'd slap him away. To her credit, she let him get quite high, and she almost never gave away the fact that she was distracted.

"And the costumes are beautiful."

"Very." He turned to her and lazily traced a finger over the black lace that covered her décolletage. He noticed her close her eyes for a split second before going on.

"And the scenery is magnificent," her voice a little huskier.

"I've enjoyed the view."

"And do we really need to stay for the second act?" she asked.

"Oh hell no!" Logan exclaimed in relief. He grabbed her hand, practically pulling her out of the theater.

They raced through the lobby and into the hallway of the resort where Logan stopped suddenly. He turned to face her, lacing the fingers of each hand through hers. He took her all in. A strange feeling overcame him. His chest felt tight and his stomach was in knots. Was this nerves? Logan didn't get nervous, especially with a girl. And yet...

"Are you ready?" he asked, suddenly feeling like he was asking himself as much as he was asking Rory. Was he ready for this? For what it would mean? For what she meant?

Rory bit her lip, nodding anxiously. He took a deep breath. "Let's go," he replied, leading the way to the elevators that would take them to their room.

AN: Eeek! Are you excited? I'm excited. And in case you haven't figured it out, the next chapter is going to be an "M" rating. That's right-we're finally getting to that smut I promised you. How's it going to go? I guess you're just going to have to wait and see. And I'm not suggesting any type of quid pro quo, here, but I do find reviews very motivating to my writing process.