AN: Alright friends I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that I got an AAAAAAAmazing career opportunity. Something I've been working towards for a long time. The bad news is that it's going to take a lot of preparation on my part over the next several months and it's associated with my full time job. That means much of my writing time will be diverted to working on this project so updates will be slow.

On another note, some of you may not have noticed that I actually wrote another chapter of When in Hamburg. I'm assuming this because of the paltry number of reviews I got. I know if you'd seen and read it, you would have reviewed ;) It's really just chapter 1 retold from Rory's POV but I think it adds a lot. Shout out to those of you who inspired me to write it with your reviews (Girlygirl1212, ecsgg, Felizia00X)

She was still asleep. She lay on her back with her head lolled to the right—towards him. One arm was down under the covers, the other folded underneath her head. A faint smudge of mascara was visible under her eyes. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in various directions. He ached to reach out and smooth it down, but the thought of possibly waking her stopped him.

He'd woken up next to women before; he'd woken up next to Rory before—those nights in Monte Carlo; but it had never been like this. It terrified him—the intensity of his feelings for this woman. Especially after last night's scare. What if he screwed it up? What if he did everything right and she still left? She'd changed him and he didn't know if he could go back; he just knew he didn't want to.

Luckily, they'd managed to get through Rory's freak-out, followed by his freak-out, and end the night on a high note. A very high note. He was impressed with Rory's stamina; especially for a girl who might as well be allergic to exercise and healthy food. If this was the only type of physical activity she could get in to, he'd be more than happy to help her get fit.

He noticed as she started to stir, her eyelids fluttering open. Her arms instinctively rose above her head and she engaged in a full body stretch. The move caused the top sheet to slip down, exposing her left breast. The realization seemed to wake her fully as she hurriedly reached down again to pull the sheet up, a look of horror on her face.

Logan laughed. "I think the time for modesty has past, Ace. Every detail of your naked body is perfectly ingrained in my memory."

She turned red, rolling on her side and burying her face in the pillow.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," he added. "Believe me, I have no complaints."

"But…" she mumbled.

"Not even the butt…especially not the butt," he added with a smirk. He wasn't kidding; her ass was pure perfection. He could spend hours worshiping it.

"Logan," she whined.

"Seriously, Ace," he said, the mocking tone gone from his words. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "Your body is amazing. You're amazing."

She smiled at him, feeling herself relax. This was a new experience for her—being naked with a man. Last night in all the whirlwind of emotions, good and bad, it had been easy to forget about her state of undress. Now though, in the light of day, the self-consciousness came flooding back. But Logan had a way of pushing her—forcing her to experience those feelings of uneasiness, then reeling her back to a place where she felt safe and comfortable. "You're pretty amazing yourself," she admitted.

"So I've been told."

She smiled at his typical display of ego. She hated it at first, but now she found it endearing; perhaps because she'd also gotten to witness his vulnerabilities.

He reached out under the blankets to rest his hand on the curve of her waist, gently stroking up and down. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

Her muscled tightened as she took stock of her body, her legs clenching together as her attention was drawn to the dull throbbing that was concentrated at their apex. Everything ached.

"Sore," she admitted. "But a good sore," she added. "Like after the town's Dance Marathon Mom made me do.I could barely move the next day, but I knew it was for a good cause."

Logan's lips turned up into a smirk and his eyebrows raised suggestively."Are you calling my out of control libido a good cause? Because if so, I'm open to donations whenever you see fit."

She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, rolling her eyes."You are incorrigible." She couldn't even be annoyed with him—she'd walked right into that one.

"I do believe that is my middle name." His hand started roaming, stroking up her rib cage, his thumb gently caressing the side of her breast, then migrating behind her and down to the small of her back before pulling her towards him. He kissed her passionately. She moaned and her mouth opened, granting him entry. His tongue swept in hungrily. She responded in kind until she felt his growing hardness pressing into her stomach.

"Logan," she groaned, pulling away slightly.

"Hmmm?" he mumbled, going in for another kiss. She pulled away again. This time it registered. He continued to hold her close, but his roving hand stilled and he looked up into her eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to…" she informed him. She was feeling a little tingly down below herself. But she hadn't been kidding when she'd said she was sore. Traitorous body. This was what she got for never working out. "I just need a little break."

"We just had a…" he looked over her shoulder at the clock on the nightstand, "six-hour break," he argued.

"Logan," she scolded.

"Fine," he relented, rolling forward on to his stomach in defeat. Rory collapsed back into the pillows behind her. Logan's head came to rest on her chest, his hand on her stomach. They lay like that for a few minutes, entwined in one another. Eventually he felt her stomach rumble under his fingertips. He wasn't surprised. Even if Rory wasn't always hungry, they'd worked up quite an appetite the previous night. "I guess we should order some breakfast," he spoke.

"Order?" she asked. "Like room service? Isn't that kind of expensive?"

She felt the upturn of his lips against her skin. "It's cute that you worry about these things," he spoke into her chest.

"I'm serious, Logan."

"Ace," he said, sitting up to look at her. "I've got it covered. Believe me, I can afford a little room service." He rolled over to grab the menu off the bedside table, then rolled back and handed it to her.

Rory bit her lip with excitement—she'd never had room service before—as she opened the menu and started reading down the list. "Ooh, the French toast looks good. No, waffles! Belgian waffles. Or…ooh, crepes—how fancy…."

Logan pried the menu from her hands. "One of everything coming up…" he said as he reached for the phone.

"What?! That's not what I meant, I just need a chance to decide," she protested.

"Bacon or sausage?" he asked as he lifted the phone off the cradle. "Never mind," he shook his head. "I'll get both."

"Logan," she whined but the enormous smile on her face was hardly one of serious protest. Rory was a fan of the morning after.

They were curled up on the couch watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Logan had suggested several activities they could do at the resort, but Rory had vetoed them all. She just wanted to stay in and snuggle. Normally Logan would be experiencing a severe case of cabin fever after spending an entire day in one room watching TV made for children, but with Rory by his side, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, he had no complaints.

"Okay, you cannot pull on a dog's leg like that…or is it arm?" Logan commented as the Grinch pulled Max by the front leg trying to stop the sled from careening down the mountain."It's got to be broken."

"It's a cartoon, Logan," Rory rolled her eyes.

"So? Little kids watch this. The could think it's alright to pull on dogs' legs like that."

"Oh my God, stop over analyzing and just enjoy the movie," Rory replied in exasperation.

"I'm just saying…"

"Just saying that you've lost the child inside? Look—" she said, pointing at the TV, "the Grinch's heart is growing three sizes. If his can do it, yours can too."

"You take your movies very seriously." Logan told her. It was adorable.

"Shh," she replied as the Grinch started giving out all the presents he'd stolen. "Look!" she added a few minutes later. "See, Max is fine. He's happily enjoying roast beast."

"Oh, so you can talk during the movie?" he joked

"It's over," she informed him as the credits started rolling.

"Thank God."

"You really didn't like it?" Rory asked, aghast. "You are a Grinch."

"Hey! It's not that I didn't like it, it's just that I've seriously got to pee and you were very clear about the 'no getting up during the movie' rule."

"Oh," Rory replied, slumping down in surrender. "I guess if you really have to."

Logan laughed, prying Rory's arms from around his waist and standing up. "Try not to miss me too much," he teased as he made his way to the bathroom.

As Logan was taking care of business, his eyes kept being drawn to the spacious bathtub, complete with an impressive array of jets. It was time they did an activity he wanted to...and it wouldn't even involve leaving the suite. In fact, Logan had come prepared for this—with more than just some bubble bath and a few candles. He took the door to the bedroom and dug through his luggage until he'd found what he was looking for, slipping it into his pocket before heading back into the common room.

"So, how are those sore muscles of yours?" he asked his girlfriend as he approached.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Someone's eager…" she responded with a chuckle at the look of false innocence on Logan's face.

"No, no…well, yes," he admitted, impishly, "of course; but I was just thinking I might know something that could help. You know—with the soreness."

"How very magnanimous of you to consider my needs like that." Rory replied mockingly. "What, pray tell, were you thinking?"

"Well, I happened to notice the tub when I was in the bathroom and thought a nice, relaxing soak could do you good."

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Absolutely."

She seemed to contemplate this for a minute."You know, a nice soothing bath all by myself could be just the trick," she teased.

"I don't know, Ace," he shook his head, "it's a remarkably big tub. I wouldn't want you to get lost or drown or anything. The buddy system might be safest."

"So you're suggesting we take a bath together?" she clarified, standing up to meet him with a twinkle in her eyes.

"For your own good, of course," he smiled cheekily.

"Of course," she repeated, trying to remain serious."You'd make such a sacrifice? Getting all wet and slippery and naked in the bath with me…for my own good?"

"What can I say?" he asked."I'm just that kind of guy. Although, you don't actually have to be naked if you don't want."

"I don't?" she asked, stepping back in genuine surprise. She certainly hadn't seen that coming. What exactly did he expect her to wear in the bathtub?

"Well, I wouldn't object if you wanted to but if you'd feel more comfortable, you could always put this on…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out two very flimsy pieces of yellow fabric with baby blue polka dots on them.

"Oh my god!" Rory cried out in embarrassment, bringing her hand up to cover her ever reddening face. "Where did you find that?"

"I have my ways." Logan replied with a grin. He'd had Stephanie go snooping through Rory's draws last week when she was over studying. But she didn't need to know that.

"But why?"

"You can't really need me to answer that, can you?" He could. In detail. The fantasies he'd had of Rory in that bikini were quite explicit.

"I was soooooo mortified when you caught me in that."

"I know. I got to see you blush in places other than your cheeks," Logan replied, his smile wide with the memory.

Rory groaned and buried her face in his chest. She felt his body rumble with laugher. "I hate you."

"Now we both know that's not true." He leaned down to kiss her on the head.

She pulled back and grabbed the bikini irritably from his hands. She didn't know why she was feeling this way. She'd been perfectly willing to get into the tub with him naked. How could the thought of wearing a bathing suit somehow make her uneasy? This was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. She stomped off towards the bedroom to get changed.

"Does this mean I should run the bath?" Logan called after her in amusement.

"Come on, you've got to have some Christmas traditions," Rory prodded. "I mean, you have a Christmas tree, right?"

"Sure, a nine-foot Douglas Fir decorated to the brim with priceless antique ornaments. We can't be trusted not to break them, so there are professionals that come in and take care of the decorating." Logan tried to sound detached. He'd come to terms with his family life. He had his friends and they'd made their own traditions. And now he had Rory. She was curled up against him in bed. Her head was resting on his shoulder, his arm under her head. His fingers gently twirled the strands of her hair. She was wearing the baby blue slip she had finally dared to reveal to him the following evening after their bath. Logan was a fan.

Sure, Christmas wasn't until the end of the week, but this was a Christmas tradition he could get used to. Their morning had been perfect. They'd made love—slow and languid. Every time with Rory was different. He used to worry that being with the same woman over and over again would be boring, but he could definitely tell that he'd never get bored of Rory. Afterwards, they'd ordered breakfast again. This time, Rory didn't try to object. They'd eaten, they'd joked, there may have been some dirty food stuff. And now, they were just lying together. The clock was ticking on their weekend getaway, only a few more hours, but Logan didn't want to worry about that yet. He wanted to just be here, talking to Rory about her life.

"So I guess there's no cranberry-popcorn garland then." Rory made a sad face.

Logan snorted.

"Well what about stockings?" she asked."You get a stocking, right?"

"Our stockings are made from the finest Egyptian cotton and hand embroidered with silk. Natural hand oils will destroy the fabrics so we're not allowed to touch them."

Rory laughed.

"Why is that funny?"

"Your mother would probably have a coronary if she saw our stockings. They're cheap polyester, with our names written on them in glitter. Also, they're burnt."

"Burnt?" Logan questioned.

"There was a fireplace incident when I was twelve. Polyester is quite flammable."

Logan made a face. "Every time I go away with you I hear about something else Lorelai burned down. Do I need to call child protective services?" he joked.

"Mom's not good with a flame. It's why we've never used our oven. But we hang the stocking on the banister now and we check the fire alarms regularly, just to be safe," Rory defended.

"Well, just so long as you don't wind up charbroiled. I'd hate to ruin such amazing skin," he replied with a wink, running a hand down her bare arm.

"Such a flatterer," Rory replied, leaning in for a chaste kiss.

"So what do you and your Mom plan to do first?" Logan asked once the kiss had broken.

"Hmm, probably go to Westin's for a cup of candy cane coffee to power up for all the decorating. That's also where we get the cookies we pretend to bake."

"And who exactly falls for that?" Logan questioned with a laugh. Anyone who'd ever met a Gilmore Girl knew they didn't bake.

"Santa's reindeer, or course. And they love our cookies."

"Not Santa?" Logan asked, slightly befuddled.

"Nope. Santa prefers gum."

Logan laughed."Well, it sounds like fun. Way more fun than trying to keep Finn from running around in the snow naked while Colin and Stephanie get groin-y in the room right next to mine."

"Oh please," Rory scoffed, "You're going to Aspen. It's going to be amazing. The view from the mountains, the luxury cabin, the skiing."

"You don't ski," he reminded her.

Rory perked up suddenly."I could learn!" she offered. "Or better yet, I could wear a cute outfit and sit by the fireplace in the lodge reading while you ski."

The image of Rory curled up by the fireplace in a cute, ski bunny outfit waiting for him filled his head and made him smile. "As much as I would love that…and I would really love that, you need to spend Christmas with your Mom."

Rory slumped back down again."I know," she pouted.

Silence descended between them, but it was full of tension now. Filled with thoughts of being separated after they'd just spent the last three days being more together than they'd ever been. Rory glanced anxiously at the clock.

"We should get up," she finally said, rolling over and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"What? No." Logan grabbed for her arm trying to pull her back down. "We're swimming in time."

Rory ignored his attempt to lure her back into bed. "We've got to pack. And I could use a shower…"

Rory got up and headed for the bathroom. It wasn't an invitation and he was smart enough not to try to make it into one. Logan flopped down on the bed in defeat. He listened to the sound of the running water as thoughts of his relationship filled his head. He knew what she was doing. Rory was trying to seal off her emotions already so that it wouldn't hurt so much tomorrow. He understood. He didn't want to leave her for two days, let alone two weeks. But he also didn't want to spend the last few hours of his time with her sulking over the fact that they only had a few hours left. What use was that?

She came out of the bathroom a little while later fully dressed in corduroys and a cable-knit sweater. He got up from bed and walked over to give her a kiss. She let him, but she didn't kiss back.

"I'm gonna hop in too," he told her. "I'll be right out." He'd give her a few more minutes to sulk while he got himself back into form.

Rory started to gather her clothes which were strewn all over the room and opened her suitcase. She started folding her sweaters and placing them neatly in her suitcase. She focused her mind on the task. Everything was a mess. She should have unpacked like she usually did instead of just rummaging through and tossing her clothes around willy-nilly. She really should call down to the front desk for an iron. Everything was all rumpled.

"That is a look of great determination," she heard Logan say. She turned to see him in a bathrobe, his golden locks tousled and slightly darker from being wet. He looked incredible. She resisted the urge to go take the bathrobe off of him and forced her attention back to her packing.

"Yes, I'm determined to get this suitcase into some semblance of order."

"And you have to do it right now?"

"We're leaving Logan," she replied pointedly. She felt a well of emotions bubble up inside her. Emotions she'd been trying to avoid.

He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "It's not over 'til it's over, Ace."

"I just…" she didn't know how to finish that statement. She didn't know what she 'just'—she just knew she was feeling sad and defensive. The thought of not seeing Logan for two weeks was killing her. She hated that she felt like this. She didn't want to be the kind of girl who needed her boyfriend to be happy. It wasn't like he was going away forever. It wasn't like he was planning on taking a year off to sail around the world this time. It was only two weeks.

"I know," he told her. "Believe, me, If I could keep you locked up in this room with me forever, I would. But there would probably be a few people out there who would miss you."

"Hardy-har-har," she replied drolly.

"Come on." He turned her around and led her towards the couch. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap. "We've got two hours until check out. How long will it take you to pack?"

Rory shrugged."A half hour, maybe."

"Great, in an hour and fifteen minutes you can go pack. Until then, you're on this couch here with me."

"But…"

"Ace," he cut her off. "Right now we're together. Take a cue from Scarlett O'Hara and worry about everything else tomorrow."

Rory sighed. "I'll try," she agreed.

"Good," he smiled triumphantly. "Now tell me, do you have any good mistletoe stories…"