AN: I really don't have the words to tell you how sorry I am guys. As you can see, I'm still in a rut. But, I'm also still plugging away as much as I can. Even if its just one paragraph at a time. Big thanks to QueenoftheSloths and Caro1414 for keeping me sane and helping me plug through my recent writers block.

I hope you all like this little moment. I'd gotten a couple of request for some bonding time with Logan and Ronan because we haven't really gotten to spend much time with Ronan yet. And funnily enough it's something that I've been wanting to do as well, so here you are.


It Doesn't Last Forever

June 2029

"Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks."


"Ro!"

The name slipped through Logan's lips accompanied by an audible thump of his heart as he looked down to his right and did not see the top of his son's becapped head. He'd looked away for one second, rooting in his pocket for his phone and opening up his Apple wallet to display the two QR codes giving him access to the gates that lie just yards away from them, and already the boy was gone. Panic settling in his gut, he quickly scanned the crowd around him until his eyes landed at the familiar four foot tall frame staring in wonder at a young man hawking Cracker Jacks on the sidewalk. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his relief was quickly overtaken by frustration.

"Ronan! What did I tell you about wandering off in the crowd?!" he asked, walking up to the boy and wrapping his hand around his shoulder. Ronan, however, didn't seem concerned with his frustration whatsoever. He merely looked up at him with an excitable smile on his face and an enthusiastic sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

"Dad, can we get Cracker Jacks?!" he asked, pointing to the young man in front of them as he yelled out into the crowd about his unbeatable non-Yankee Stadium affiliated prices.

"There are Cracker Jacks in the suite," said Logan. "Come on. Hold my hand."

Ronan complied with the request immediately, slipping his small hand into Logan's and allowing him to pull him back toward the entrance. In the time that it took for them to make their way to the front of the line and through the entrance gate, Ronan's attention was pulled in about fifty-five different directions. He spent half the time rattling on about all the varying points of interest around him, and the other half listing all of the items that he wanted Logan to purchase for him by the end of the day, items including a pair of grey joggers embroidered with the Yankees logo that he's seen on another boy in line in front of them, a moisture wicking polo shirt that he could wear to the junior golf lessons that Mitchum had signed him up for, and of course a new glove. Though, that was one that he'd been talking about for quite some time.

"If you behave," had become Logan's standard answer as he continued to listen to his son gush about anything and everything around him.

It felt almost as if he'd never been to a baseball game before. Though, of course, that was far from true. Logan had been bringing him to the annual HPG game day party since he was old enough to string sentences together, and of course there were the odd games here and there in between. This was, however, the first time that he'd been to a baseball game since joining Little League. And apparently that was making quite a large amount of difference in his outlook on things.

"Did you know that The Yankees used to be called The Highlanders?" Ronan asked, looking oh-so-proud of himself for his extensive knowledge on the topic.

"I did," Logan replied with a smile.

"And that they have the most World Series wins of any team ever?"

"Yeah, I heard something about that."

"And did you know that the reason why it's called The World Series isn't cause it's about the best team in The World that year. It's just cause it was started by this guy who owned a newspaper that was called The World."

"Joseph Pulitzer," said Logan with a nod.

"Right. I knew that," said Ronan with a firm nod.

Logan found himself letting out a quiet chuckle at the look on the boy's face. Sometimes it amazed him how much he really was a perfect blend of him and Rory. Only a Gilmore could rattle off that many facts about something at eight-years-old with the enthusiasm of a puppy running through a meat market, but the somewhat smugly confident look on his face at the current moment was all Huntzberger.

"Has Grandpa ever made a game like that?"

This time Logan laughed in earnest.

"No," he said, squeezing the boy's hand. "Grandpa doesn't have quite as much swing as Joseph Pulizter did. Though… don't tell him I said that."

Logan let his son's hand drop from his own as it came time to walk through the metal detectors that were set up in front of the entrance. He pushed him gently through while he placed his keys and phone inside of one of the small trays handed to him by an employee before walking through himself. A ballpark employee was waiting on the other side to scan their tickets and she gestured toward the elevator. Ronan ran forward, exclaiming with more enthusiasm than he perhaps should at his age that he was going to press the button. Logan could only smile.

"Do you know where we're going?" Logan asked as they stepped inside the elevator.

"Yeah!" said Ronan as he reached up and pressed on the button that would take them up to the suite floor where HPG had been hosting their annual game day since Logan himself was Ronan's age.

The memories of coming to the game every year were some of the better memories of Logan's childhood. It was one of the few times he ever spent time with his dad outside of standard Federal holidays, and while Logan would always be slightly disappointed when he realized that Mitchum was once again more interested in mingling and shop talk with and endless brigade tall men that Logan couldn't really remember the faces of, he still always managed to have a good time. Whether it was watching every second of the game or stuffing his face full of endless hot dogs, he always found a way to entertain himself.

As soon as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Ronan was off like a shot. He was practically running toward their destination and almost knocking people over in his haste. And by the time Logan was able to so much as sigh, he was already getting judgemental glares from strangers at his inability to control his kid.

"Ro!" Logan yelled after the boy who was yards ahead of him by this point. He turned around, giving Logan some time to catch up with him. "Watch where you're going, please."

"Sorry," Ronan replied, bashfully. When Logan caught up to him, he tousled his hair a bit and pulled him in for a loose side hug as they continued walking, hoping that it would reassure the boy that he wasn't in any trouble. Thankfully, Ronan's enthusiasm didn't seem to have waned after the minor scolding, and once they reached their destination, he practically burst through the doors into the party suite.

They were far from the first two people to arrive, and the second the doors opened the sound of over a hundred mingling businessmen and women washed over them like a sonic wave. Logan scanned over the crowd, recognizing a good number of people right away, both people he knew and people whose faces he recognized, but couldn't quite put a name to. For a brief moment, he started to mourn the fact that Rory had managed to weasel her way out of attending by jumping on the opportunity to accompany Ellie to her friend Izzy's birthday party and help 'wrangle the kids.' She was always the best at running interference for him when he couldn't remember the name of the person he was speaking to. The system she'd learned from her mother where he would take a sip of his drink while she jumped in and introduced herself had an almost perfect success record. As it was, Logan was on his own today. Perhaps he was being pessimistic, but he really didn't think his eight year old would be much help on that front.

"Let's go sit outside!" said Ronan, his one track mind not even mildly deterred by the sight of all the strangers around him. He started to make a mad dash toward the glass doors leading out to the rows of seats reserved for them overlooking first base, but Logan's hand quickly shot out and pulled him back before he could get too far.

"Hey, hey, hey…" he said. "Wait a second. First we need to say hi to - "

"There they are!"

"- Grandpa."

Next to him, Logan heard Ronan groan. He had to stifle a snort of laughter at his reaction, recognizing the deep irony. If only the kid knew how much Logan understood - and often shared - his feelings. To this day, there was usually a long list of things Logan would rather be doing than spending a day off with his father. In fact, Logan had far more reasons to be upset about the situation than Ronan did. For Ronan, seeing Grandpa Mitchum usually came hand in hand with being slipped a hundred dollar bill and far more sugar than any small child should ever consume. For Logan… seeing Grandpa Mitchum still came hand in hand with a long lecture about all of the things he was doing wrong. Not that Ronan needed to be bothered with any of that.

"Hey, Dad," Logan replied as he started nudging Ronan in the direction of the voice that had interrupted him.

Mitchum was standing off to the side of the bar, a glass of scotch was clasped in his right hand, and if the enthusiastic smile on his face was any indication it wasn't exactly his first. He was dressed casually in a white and grey striped polo shirt with the Yankees emblem embroidered over the left breast tucked into a pair of belted khaki pants. It was a look that was growing in popularity with his father in recent years. Where Logan used to rarely see him dressed in anything other than a suit outside Martha's Vineyard, these days it was rarer to see him in anything he couldn't wear on the golf course. At first he took it as a sign of his pending retirement. But, at this point it had been several years since contempo casual Mithcum had fully hit the scene and there was no indication that he was slowing down any time soon. If anything, his father's formal wardrobe was just another victim of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Logan plastered a smile on his face as they approached the group of people that had gathered around his father. His uncle was there along with the current CFO, Jim Wetherby and his wife. Standing to her left was Saul Blumenfeld, a man even older than his father that hadn't technically worked for them in about three decades. Yet, the Pulitzer Prize he'd been awarded for his work on the fall of Saigon for The Standard had landed him a standing invitation to every HPG event for the rest of his life. Including Logan's wedding. Despite the fact that he continued to mix up Logan and his cousin Clayton this day.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up."

Logan only smiled, keeping his comment about how the first pitch hadn't even been thrown to himself.

"Jim," he said instead of responding to his father's comment. He held out his hand to the man and shook it.

"Logan, nice to see you," he replied.

"Logan, you remember Jim's wife Rebecca," said Mitchum, gesturing to the woman. Logan quickly responded in the affirmative and reached out to shake her hand as well. "And Saul."

"Of course. Good to see you," Logan said, greeting Saul in the same manner.

"And who is this handsome young man?" Rebecca asked.

She was looking down at Ronan with a wide smile, and Logan suddenly felt him burrow into his side. Ronan was hardly shy, but he'd never taken all that kindly to being paraded around in front of a strange group of adults. Not that Logan could blame him. He hadn't taken very kindly to it when he was a kid either. In fact… he still didn't take all that kindly to it.

"This is my son, Ronan," Logan replied with a prideful smile. He placed an affectionate hand on Ronan's head and squeezed his shoulder in a show of support. "Ronan, you remember Uncle David. And this is Mr. and Mrs. Wetherby and Mr. Blumenfeld."

"Hi," the boy greeted, still holding on to him and showing no signs of letting go.

Ronan was their shy one. Or rather… their more introverted one. At first, Logan had assumed that it was something he would grow out of with age, and perhaps there was still time. However, as the years passed he became less and less convinced that would be the case. While Ellie had inherited his more extroverted tendencies and had no problem walking up to a complete stranger on the street and starting a conversation, Ronan seemed to take more after Rory. It wasn't exactly that he was shy or afraid to talk to people, it's just that he usually preferred to stay quiet until he was well inside his comfort zone. Though… once inside his comfort zone it was often difficult to get him to stop talking.

"Well, well," said Saul with a gruff chuckle."So this is the next in line to the throne, huh?"

Five adult heads all simultaneously looked down at the little boy attached to his father's hip with discerning looks on their faces. As if they were waiting for Ronan to say something clever in response. As if they expected Ronan to even fully understand what Saul had meant with such a comment. Ronan just looked confused… and slightly intimidated by the strange attention. Logan could feel his haunches going up, his own childhood trauma immediately triggered along with the paternal instincts that were screaming out at him to protect his son from the very same attention and expectation that had so thoroughly screwed him up as a young man.

"We'll see," said Logan with a shrug. "Hey, bud. Why don't you go find a seat outside, and I'll get you something to eat. Okay?"

"I want a hot dog," said Ronan finally pulling away from his side. "And cookies."

"You can have two cookies," said Logan firmly, knowing that to his own devices that kid would eat enough sweets to develop type 2 diabetes by the time he hit the double digits. "And that's it."

"Kay!"

Ronan didn't seem to be bothered at all by Logan's limiting of his sugar intake for the day. How long that would last, however, remained to be seen. Though, Logan was pretty confident it wouldn't be very long. At the moment he was far too excited to be getting out into the open stadium seats to think about much of anything else. It was enough to distract him for a while, but it definitely wasn't enough to distract him forever. And as evidence of that fact, not fifteen minutes after Logan had sent his son outside, he felt a tugging on his arm, pulling him out of the shop talk he'd been sucked into by his father and Jim.

"Dad!" he said, his annoyance at Logan dripping from his voice. Logan held off for a few seconds, somehow managing to keep the conversation about the quarterly financial report going for a couple more seconds before Ronan's pestering became too much to ignore.

"What?" Logan asked, accentuating the 't' at the end of the word ever so slightly to convey his displeasure at Ronan's behavior.

"You missed the first pitch!"

Logan sighed, his frustration quickly giving way to genuine remorse.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he said. "I'll be out in a second, okay?"

"With food?"

"With food," Logan confirmed with a nod.

Ronan scampered off once again, and Logan managed to tear himself away from the group around him with only a mild look of condescension from his father. He started walking toward the buffet, grabbing a plate from the pile at the end of the table and a hotdog bun from the basket to his left. And just as he was about to pick up the silver tongues resting below a chafing dish filled to the brim with perfectly roasted ballpark franks, he heard a voice calling out to him.

"Logan!"

Tongs forgotten, Logan turned around. A smile appeared on his face as he recognized the tall slim form of Peter Nguyen, the editor of one of their newest online acquisitions and a person that Logan seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with, walking toward him with his hand outstretched.

"Petey!" he greeted with a smile, setting the plate down on the table. "How's it goin', man? Glad you could make it."

Such was the hazard of being one of the big dogs at a corporate event. He knew that his day would be filled with just as much schmoozing with co-workers and colleagues as it was watching the game with his kid. Yet, with any luck, maybe he could get the bulk of it out of the way at the start.


Ronan threw a look over his shoulder, squinting his eyes as he gazed into the large suite of people through the glass panels separating the inside from the outside. It was the top of the fourth, and it had been about twenty minutes since his Dad had told him he was going back inside to get another beer, which seemed like a really long time. Especially since it didn't really look like there were a lot of people in line from what Ronan could see.

His Dad was taking forever to do everything today. It had taken him forever to leave the house. It had taken him forever to come outside. Even after Ronan had gone back inside to get him, he'd missed almost the entire first inning. And when they were done eating their hotdogs and chips and Ronan wanted the two cookies he'd been limited to, it had taken him even longer to bring them back outside. At this rate he would probably never get any Cracker Jacks, and if he wanted to make it to the Team Store by the end of the day to get the new glove he'd been dreaming of, he knew that he better get moving.

Hoping out of his chair, Ronan shuffled his way down the aisle and toward the door. As soon as he opened it, the roaring sound of the crowd was replaced instantly with the murmuring sound of dozens of grown-ups talking. Talking about what, he wasn't really sure. Even if he did understand half of the things his Dad's work people always said, he would be far too bored to pay any close attention to it.

He'd never understand why all these people were inside talking about boring things when there was a baseball game happening right in front of them. And he definitely didn't understand why his Dad was inside with them. His Dad wasn't boring… usually. Most of the time his Dad was fun. Most of his friends thought that his Dad was cool. But then again, they didn't know how often he could get distracted by such boring things. Ronan knew better.

He looked around the room, thinking that he would find his Dad standing in line at the bar at the center of the suite. That was, after all, what he had said he would be doing. But, when he scanned the room from left to right, he was nowhere to be found. There wasn't a single familiar face to be found actually. At least, so he thought.

"Psst. Hey."

Ronan froze, recognizing the voice immediately, but not knowing exactly where it came from. He looked around again, craning his neck upward to scan over the faces of all the strange adults around him. But, he still didn't recognize a single one until his eyes landed on a familiar tall and portly man with grey hair and a conspiratorial look on his face.

Just a few feet across the room, his grandfather was standing next to the buffet. It wasn't his dad. He still hadn't figured out where his dad was, but at least it was someone he knew, someone who didn't look at him as if he was some kind of strange animal in a zoo, waiting to see what kind of tricks he would do when he got big enough. Mitchum winked at him and signaled with a small twitch of his head for Ronan to come over to him.

"Come here…" he whispered, looking around as if he didn't want to be caught.

Ronan didn't need to be asked twice. He parroted his grandfather, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him despite not really knowing why, and then walked over to him. As soon as he reached him, Mitchum threw another look over his shoulder and raised a finger to his lips.

"Shh…" he said, reaching up to grab something from the table behind him.

The next thing he knew, Ronan felt something slip into his hand, something crumbly on one side, but strangely smooth and crisp on the other. When he looked down at what he was holding, a smile broke out on his face. It was a giant chocolate chip cookie, the kind that his dad had already told him he had too many of, and a brand new one-hundred dollar bill.

"Don't tell your dad," Mitchum said with a wink.

Ronan looked up at Mitchum, the smile on his face only growing. Suddenly, it looked like finding his dad wasn't as necessary as he'd thought. He had his own money now and at least one grown-up who might be willing to help him out with his goal.

"Grandpa, will you take me to the - "

"Mitch!"

"Fred!" his grandfather replied, his attention completely diverted by the arrival of a random stranger. "How's it going?!"

The old man who called out to him didn't even acknowledge Ronan as he walked over to them and stepped practically right in front of the boy's face, cutting him off from communication entirely. He stood there for a few more seconds, craning his neck upwards and listening to them talk about a bunch of things that he didn't understand - like the down jones and interesting rates - before realizing that his grandfather probably wouldn't even notice if he left.

His heart sank a bit as he snuck away, but he continued on his journey around the large room packed full of people while munching contentedly on his cookie. For a brief moment, he thought he saw his dad standing at a tall table by one of the TVs mounted on the wall. But, when the man in question turned around, Ronan quickly realized that it was just another stranger, another stranger with blond hair and the same old white and blue pinstriped Jeter jersey that his dad always wore when they came to the baseball game. Dads were obsessed with Jeter. Ronan thought he was fine.

He sighed, feeling more and more dejected with every passing second. Though, when he noticed at least one person he recognized standing in line at the buffet, he started to feel a small flutter of hope.

"Miss Keisha," he asked as he walked over to her and tugged lightly on her t-shirt. His father's executive assistant tore her attention away from the two plates that she was balancing in her hands and looked down at him with a somewhat flustered look on her face, though Ronan paid the expression no mind. "Have you seen my dad?"

"Uh…" the young woman replied, looking over her shoulder for any sign of Logan, but coming up short. "No, I haven't, sweetheart. What do you need? Are you hungry? Why don't you go sit down with Ty and I'll get you a hotdog and some chips."

Keisha nodded over in the direction of one of the tables by the window where her four year old son was sitting and swinging his legs while he played a game on her phone. Ronan sighed, completely uninterested in the prospect of spending the rest of his afternoon with a four year old despite how tempting another hotdog sounded.

"That's okay," he said, forlornly. "I'm not hungry. I'm just gonna go look for my dad."

"Oh. Well… okay…" Keisha said as she split her attention between loading the plates she was carrying with food and talking to him. "Just… stay in the suite. Don't go looking for him anywhere else. And if I see him, I'll tell him you're looking for him, okay?"

"Okay," Ronan responded with a nod before peeling away from her. Behind him, a look of pure relief fell over Keisha's face as she realized that she wasn't going to be stuck babysitting her boss' kid for the entire afternoon. Though, Ronan didn't even notice. He was still too singularly focused on his mission.

Thankfully, it didn't take him too much longer to complete it. With a few more steps through the crowd, Ronan finally laid eyes on the image of his father standing with a new group of people. People that he didn't know. They were younger than the other people he had been talking to before, but they were still old. They were just more old like his dad than old like his grandpa.

He took a few steps forward, the words they were saying getting clearer the closer he got. Though, Ronan still had no idea what they were talking about. It was all too confusing to follow. But, whatever it was it wasn't about the game, which in his mind might be the most confusing part of it all.

"And, you know, I tried to warn him…" the man standing across from his dad was saying with a shrug as he walked up to them. "But he doesn't actually know what the hell he's doing. He gets in on the ground floor of Doge, basically quadruples his portfolio overnight and blows it all on a sleepminted Banksy NFT - "

"Dad." Ronan reached up and wrapped his fingers around his dad's arm. He tugged slightly, feeling resistance as his Dad fought to make sure the beer in his hand didn't go flying through the air.

"Aw man," his Dad replied with a wince and a laugh, ignoring him as he carried on. "Should have called it quits after that Eminem album."

"Dad."

"He spent $100,000 on a digital file that I can stream on Spotify for $5.99 a month."

"Dad!"

"Sorry," said Logan to the others around him before looking down at Ronan with a raised brow. "What, bud?"

"Can we go to the team store now?" he asked. His dad took a deep breath, and Ronan noticed a look settle over his face that in his experience usually preceded the word 'no.' So, he jumped back in before his dad had a chance to say it. "I have my own money!"

He flashed the crisp one-hundred dollar bill in his hand to the crowd, and a burst of laughter sounded from the man who was standing across from his dad. Ronan glowered a bit. He really didn't understand what was so funny, but then again it also wasn't really important either.

"Where did you…" said Logan in a confused and surprised tone, furrowing his brow at the sight of the bill in Ronan's hand. Ultimately, though, he interrupted himself with a sigh and brought this finger and thumb up to his face to rub at the corner of his eyes. "...did you say thank you to Grandpa?"

"Uh….I forgot," said Ronan. "Can we go? Pleeeeeease?"

"Fine," said Logan with a nod, prompting a brilliant smile to flash across Ronan's face. "Just… give me a few minutes. Go find Grandpa and say thank you first."

"Okay!"

Ronan turned around and ran off like a flash to find his grandfather in the crowd. His excitement could hardly be contained. In fact, his excitement was so overwhelming that he'd momentarily forgotten that his father's definition of 'a few minutes' had been pretty liberal that afternoon…


Logan sighed as he looked down at the electronic face of his iWatch and absentmindedly adjusted the black leather Hermès band that was wrapped around his left wrist. A feeling of guilt rushed over him as he took in the position of the hands, both of them pointing to numbers far larger than he expected them to be pointing to at that time.

The day had certainly gotten away from him, and he knew in the back of his mind that the "few minutes" he'd been promising Ronan since the moment they'd gotten here had at this point culminated in something closer to an hour… or maybe two. The good thing, though, was that the game was still pretty far from over. Such was the advantage of baseball. Many found the intensely slow pace of the game insufferable. But, to Logan, it provided the opportunity to accomplish a fair amount of professional obligation while still giving him time to sit down and actually enjoy the game with his kid… eventually.

There were still a few hands in the crowd that he knew he would have to shake before he was really able to sit down and enjoy himself. A few more people to schmooze. A few more shareholders to entertain. He only hoped that he could keep Ronan from melting down before that point in time.

It was hard to explain to an eight year old at Yankee Stadium that the primary purpose of being there wasn't actually to watch a baseball game. And not for lack of trying. All morning he had been reminding Ronan that, while they would have fun, he did need to spend some time talking to some people from work. But, the message hadn't really stuck.

It wasn't as if Logan was all that happy about the fact either. The truth of the matter was that he would much rather be outside taking in the game with his son than talking to a bunch of drones going on and on about oil futures, cryptocurrency, and their ever present construction problems in Lake Como. But, he had long ago accepted that you didn't always get what you wanted in life.

"..And of course the engineer that we brought out for a second opinion tells us that the contractor we hired to put in the road should have replaced all of the land that was initially dug up with rock and we never would have had this problem. So imagine the price tag on that!"

Logan shook his head and blinked his eyes in faux horror as the man in front of him continued to prattle on and on. All the while, he was shoving down the urge to pull out his phone and text Rory about how he'd apparently just met Tortolla guy's long lost twin brother and to add Lake Como to the list of places never to build a vacation home.

"...I mean we already have to replace that entire road that we just put in last year because it was completely destroyed. The retaining wall moved about twenty feet out into the lake, so that all needs to be done as well. Not to mention the new drainage system we'll need to add to the road at the top of the hill and this is all on top of the baseline renovations of the house."

"Wow."

"Wow is right!" the man agreed enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically. "And they say that boats are money pits! The boat is the only solid investment we've made so far. Knock on wood!"

"Haha," said Logan, the utterance sounding much more like a couple of words being spoken than an actual laugh. Though his companion didn't seem to mind. He seems thoroughly entertained by the story of his strife. Almost as entertained as the entire stadium full of people who suddenly erupted into a loud burst of cheers, miraculously cutting into what was becoming one of the more painful conversations Logan had been subjected to in recent memory.

With a brief glance up at the television, Logan watched as a replay of a batter whose name he'd missed hitting a double flashed across the screen. At this point, the bases were filled entirely at what looked to be the very start of the fifth inning, and the crowd's enthusiasm was put completely into context.

"Nice…" he said somewhat under his breath as he lifted his beer to his lips for a sip and kept his eyes glued on the screen. Though, as enrapturing as the moment might have been, he found that it wasn't able to hold his attention for very long.

"Dad!" Ronan yelled as he suddenly slammed into his side. The boy had come seemingly from out of nowhere, and he had taken Logan completely off guard - so off guard that Logan was a little surprised that he hadn't managed to completely knock him over. "The bases are loaded and we have no outs! You're missing it!"

"I saw it, buddy," Logan replied and he regained his bearings. He placed a hand on top of his son's head - a hand that Ronan immediately nudged off.

"But you weren't there!"

"I saw it on the TV," said Logan, gesturing with a nod to the television nearest them and thinking that it was enough explanation. Ronan apparently disagreed. Vehemently.

"But you can watch TV at home!" he whined.

"Ro, I told you this morning that I wouldn't be able to watch the whole game, remember?" said Logan, his tone taking on a slightly more stern quality in response to his son's emotional display.

"But you've barely watched any of it!"

"Ronan," Logan warned. "I'll be out there in a few minutes, okay?"

"That's what you've said all day!"

"I know, kiddo," he said. "But this is for work, and I'm the boss. I have to make sure that - "

"If you're the boss, that means that you should be able to do whatever you want!"

"Well that would be great if that's how it worked…" said Logan, his patience starting to eek away. "But unfortunately it's not."

"This sucks!" Ronan yelled, crossing his arms over his chest in a humph. "I want to go home!"

At this point the boy's foot literally stomped on the ground in a tantrum-like gesture more befitting a four year old than the eight year old that he was. The crowd of people around them were all watching in awkward silence at the terse moment between father and son. And the guilt and sympathy that Logan had been feeling for the boy just moments ago left his body faster than a three year old who'd just spotted Mickey Mouse on Main Street USA.

"Ronan Richard Huntzberger," said Logan, slowly and sternly in a tone that was entirely too reminiscent of his own father's for his comfort. "Don't you think for one second that that's not exactly where we'll go if you don't cut this out right now."

The two of them held each other's gazes for a few moments with Ronan remaining stubborn far longer than Logan would like. Eventually, however, the youngest of the Huntzberger men gave up, and he turned around on his heel and petulantly stomped back to his spot outside without another word. Logan stood there silently seething for a moment as he felt dozens of pairs of eyes burning through him, no doubt judging him for the spectacle his kid had just created.

"Sorry," said Logan while shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Kids. You know?"

He was actually pretty sure that the vast majority of people around him at the moment didn't really know. Most of them were his age or younger. Most of them were unburdened by families and happy with a life of perpetual bachelorhood. And those that did share his burden would have found this entire day a prime opportunity to make sure that the hired help was earning their keep. It seemed, somewhat ironically actually, that there was only one person among them who truly did understand how frustrating a moment like this as a parent could be.

"Hah!"

Logan heard the booming laugh of his father echo through the room and felt a firm hand clap him on the shoulder from behind. A look of pure glee and amusement had befallen Mitchum's face, and he was shaking his head back and forth as he continued to laugh at his son's pain. Had he not been so smug, Logan might have actually appreciated the tension breaking interjection. Yet, as it was, it only served to pique his frustration even more, and he couldn't help but wonder if the little Huntzberger spat that everyone had just witnessed was about to become multigenerational.

"God… Hell, if you didn't used to be just like that..." he heard his father continue as he himself bit his tongue to keep anything less than savory from slipping out of his mouth. "Can't say I miss those days."

Mitchum's words of commiseration didn't seem to have their intended effect on Logan. Instead of feeling supported and understood, he felt his whole entire world start to shift around him. He started to remember what this very room used to Look like back in the late 1980s - the cheesy shell furniture and the gold accents everywhere. He started to remember how it felt to be here - how it felt to be a little kid thinking that he might finally get to spend some time with his dad only to come to realize that he was never going to be the biggest priority in his father's life. That they were never going to have something to bond over other than work. Because work was the only thing that was important in his father's life…

And he hadn't even had a fun Grandpa to slip him hundred dollar bills and feed him cookies behind Mitchum's back.

"The good news?" Mitchum continued, as Logan silently started off in the direction that his son had just run off into. "It doesn't last forever…"

His father gave his shoulder one last squeeze before taking off to talk to someone across the room. He left Logan standing there, feeling as though he had just been hit by a freight train rather than given some fatherly advice from some kind of wise patriarch.

His own eight year old self would absolutely hate him. Hell, his forty-seven year old self kinda hated him at the moment. Without even a second thought, Logan had let himself become exactly what he'd always sworn he wouldn't be. He'd let himself become the kind of father who put watching the ballgame with his son second to double talking with shareholders. He'd become the kind of father who operated under the assumption that if he could just get work done now then he would have plenty of time to spend with his kid later.

But that wasn't true at all.

His father was right.

It was a frustrating trait of Mitchum's - the fact he always managed to be right even in ways he didn't mean to be.

It doesn't last forever.

It was all happening so fast. Already, it felt as though he had just blinked and somehow ended up with a daughter getting ready for middle school and a son who had gotten too big for him to comfortably carry. It felt like he had just blinked and he'd gone from a twenty-four year old college kid walking the stage of his graduation to the almost fifty year old executive he was today. It felt like he had just blinked and he'd gone from a three foot tall elementary school kid to the five foot nine grown adult he was today.

Life, it seemed, just kept getting faster and faster. The two and a half hour commute from Hartford to New York that he'd made more times than he could count as a child used to feel as though it took a year. Now, entire years seemed to pass in what felt like months. Months felt like weeks. Weeks felt like days.

What the hell was he doing thinking that he had plenty of time when every day felt like a case study for the fact that life was simply way too short?

Before he knew what he was doing, he started to put one foot in front of the other. He walked in the direction that his son had just left, hoping to catch up with him as fast as he possibly could, stopping only to grab a bag of Cracker Jacks from a table full of snacks on the way. He walked to the glass doors leading outside, to the spot where he had last few Ronan over an hour ago.

To his relief, Ronan was still there. Though, this time instead of watching the game with unbridled excitement, he was scrunched up in his seat in the corner. His feet were propped up against the railing in front of him and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. His head was hanging low, hiding his face entirely, and Logan could only hope that he wasn't crying. He wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself at the moment if he'd made the kid cry.

"Hey…" he said softly, walking up to him and standing in the aisle next to his seat. Ronan didn't return the greeting. "Is this seat taken?"

Ronan still wasn't interested in speaking to him. He shifted in his seat, turning to his left so that Logan was met with nothing but his back.

"I brought Cracker Jacks."

Logan crinkled the bag slightly in his hand. For the first couple of seconds, Ronan didn't move. But, Logan could see the way that his shoulders started to tense at the sound, as if he was physically struggling not to give in to the temptation to turn around and accept the coveted snack. Rory, of course, would probably scold him for trying to bribe his affections. But, at the same time what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Alright…" Logan continued a couple seconds later once he still hadn't gotten a reaction out of his son. "I guess I'll just have to eat them all by myself…"

Logan crinkled the bag again, playing at splitting open the seal in a sort of exaggerated slow motion. Ultimately, it was too much for Ronan to resist. He turned in his seat, facing forward once again and silently held out his hand for the bag of candied popcorn and nuts. Logan's lips curled into a small smile, and he handed the bag over before watching Ronan rip into it without wasting a single second.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, nodding toward the empty seat to his left. Ronan still didn't answer him - at least not verbally. He just shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care at all, as if it wasn't what he'd been trying to get Logan to do all day.

This time, Logan jumped at the opportunity. He slid into the cushioned stadium seat and spent the next few moments pretending to pay attention to the game happening on the green below them. Though, his gaze kept drifting over to Ronan as he munched on his Cracker Jacks with a forlorn expression still written clearly across his face.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," Logan said with the sound of people clapping along with the organ hanging in the background. "I shouldn't have done that."

Ronan only shrugged again.

Logan held back a sigh. While there were certain elements of his wife's personality that he delighted in seeing in his son… this particular one wasn't one of them. Ronan's tendency toward introversion made him sharp and perceptive. It made him a good judge of character. It made him introspective and curious. But it also made him a little more passive aggressive than Logan would like. It made him a bit too fond of the silent treatment and the cold shoulder. It made him quick to shove down his anger and frustration and stew in resentful silence rather than coming out and being honest about how he felt.

Thankfully, at this point Logan had a bit of practice with that…

"You know… It's okay if you're still mad. You can tell me."

Ronan looked as if he was thinking about it. The hand that had been buried in the bag of Cracker Jacks paused for a moment. His lips pursed and he scrunched up his eyebrows. Logan, of course, knew that one little apology about yelling hadn't miraculously rid the child of his anger, he just hoped that Ronan might actually muster up the strength to say it out loud.

"You kept lying…" he said, the pain in his little voice breaking Logan's heart. "You said that you'd be back but then you didn't come."

Logan took a deep breath. If he'd hated himself before, at this point he was filled with full on loathing.

"You're right…" he said, clearing his throat to cover a small crack in his voice. "I did do that. That was wrong. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Ronan reached up and swiped the back of his hand across his eye, and Logan suddenly felt the urge to punch himself in the face. Instead though, he redirected that physical urge by sliding his arm over his son's shoulders and pulling him into his side as far as the arm rest between them would allow. Much to his relief, Ronan didn't fight the move. He burrowed his head into the side of Logan's chest under his armpit, and Logan pulled him in by wrapping his palm and fingers around the back of his head and placing a kiss on his scalp.

"I've done enough work," Logan said quietly with his chin still resting on top of Ronan's head. "We're gonna spend the rest of the day together. Just you and me. Okay?"

"Promise?" Ronan asked meekly.

Logan winced. The feeling that came with knowing that a promise needed to be made because at the moment his words didn't hold enough currency to be taken at face value stung a little bit. But if that's what Ronan needed at the moment, that's what he would give to him.

"I promise," he said, breathing in the smell of his hair. "I love you so much, buddy."

They retreated back into silence for a few seconds. Though, this time it was far more comfortable. Ronan remained snuggled against Logan's side and the two of them looked down as a new batter walked up to home plate. He took position and the pitcher curled back his arm and lifted his knee. Then, in something that seemed to happen at the speed of light, a mighty crack sounded in the air, a crowd of tens of thousands of people leapt to their feet, and the ball went careening through the air and over the wall.


It was nearly 10:30 at night when Rory finally heard the sound of her front door open and close and the shuffle of her husband and son as they walked into the house. For the past hour or so, she had been curled up on the sectional in the second floor living room, getting in some quality reading time while her house remained somewhat tranquil. Ellie had gone to bed early after tiring herself out at her friend's birthday party, and while Rory was pretty tired herself, quiet moments like this didn't come around all that often - and they definitely didn't last very long.

The fast paced thumping of footsteps coming up the stairs and the sound of her husband's voice calling out to their son as he ascended them were testament to that fact. Logan was telling him to go get ready for bed, but when he reached the top of the stairs and saw her sitting there, it seemed like he had different plans. Rory quickly earmarked her book and set it down on the coffee table, just in time for Ronan to launch himself into her lap and bury his face under her chin.

"Oof. Hi, Bug!" Rory grunted as he jumped into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight and reached up to pluck the crooked baseball cap off of his head so she could press a kiss on top of his brown hair. "Did you have fun?"

Rory felt a nod against her neck. The complete lack of any verbal response, however, told her that perhaps he'd had a little too much fun. Eight was a funny age. Mentally, he was starting to move out of the little kid phase of his life, but at moments like these Rory was reminded that he wasn't quite there yet. There were still some parts of him that were little, and staying up until 10:30 at night at a loud, crowded, and boisterous baseball game was a lot for his still little body to take.

"Are you tired?" she asked, receiving another nod in response. She smiled and started subtly rocking him back and forth in her arms, aching for the days when he was still her baby. She reached down, running her fingers along the large piece of white and navy blue leather that was wrapped around Ronan's hand. She traced along the red white and blue Yankees logo printed in the middle of the palm, and down by the wrist, she could see the R, A, and W making up the first part of the Rawlings logo. "What's this? A new glove?"

Ronan nodded again.

"Dad got it for me," he said.

"He did?" Rory asked, only to be answered by a completely different voice.

"He did," Logan confirmed as he walked into the living room, looking just as tired and ready for bed as their eight year old. Hanging from his hand was a large white plastic bag practically filled to the brim with lord only knew what kind of merchandise. Though, judging by the Yankees logo printed in the middle, she had a few guesses.

"I see…." said Rory. "It looks like Dad got the whole Team Store while he was at it."

"Dad also got you something," Logan said, pointedly, as if it would make an ounce's worth of difference to her. He dug through the plastic bag, pulling out a lightweight navy blue hooded t-shirt with a white logo printed over the heart and tossing it at her. She caught it before it could hit Ronan in the face, and looked down at it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Which wasn't very much enthusiasm at all.

"Oh boy," she drolled. "A shirt to clean the house in."

"Hey," said Logan, sitting down on the couch a few feet from her. "That shirt was seventy-five dollars."

"That's…." Rory didn't quite know the right word for what exactly it was. Unbelievable? Ridiculous? Insane? There were several options floating through her mind. And while she knew that it wasn't exactly as if they couldn't afford a seventy-five dollar t-shirt, there was still part of her that was morally appalled that a single piece of cotton could possibly be sold for such a price. "That's… something alright."

As Rory set the shirt down on the cushion between her and Logan, Ronan started burrowing even deeper into her chest. She could feel his breath starting to steady into a slow deep rhythm, and as much as she would love for him to fall asleep in her arms like he used to, she knew better than to think she could carry him up to his room without a good deal of effort.

"Okay, Bug," she said, sitting up slightly to gently nudge him off of her lap. "It's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on and Dad or I will be up in a second, okay?"

Ronan let out a tiny little groan at the idea of moving, but he eventually did as he was told. He trudged up the stairs, dragging his feet as if he were a fifty-year-old man who had just finished a back breaking day of work in the mines, and Rory had to keep herself from laughing out loud, just barely making it until he disappeared from sight. When she turned back around, she was met with the sight of the other man in her life yawning and running and hand over his face.

"Looks like the kid isn't the only one up past his bedtime," said Rory as she inched closer to him on the couch and pressed herself against his side. Logan's arm fell around her shoulders, and she felt the press of a kiss against her forehead.

"Mmhm," he replied. "I'm gonna need you to come tuck me in soon."

Rory furrowed her brow and pursed her lips for a moment, considering the words that had just come out of his mouth and whether or not the low gravely quality of his voice was merely from fatigue or something else.

"I'm trying to figure out if that's dirty or not…" she said.

"I didn't specify which part of me I wanted you to tuck where…"

"Wow…" said Rory with a snort of laughter. "I'm swooning over here."

"Yeah, I still got it," Logan replied, pulling her closer to him and gently squeezing her shoulder. "How was your day?"

"Oh…" said Rory with a sigh. "Dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Logan asked. "A pool party with a bunch of eleven year olds was dramatic?"

"Oh… you don't even know…" said Rory with an affronted laugh. "You better hold on to whatever million dollar hat is sitting in that bag over there because it's starting, and you have no idea what you're going to be in for."

"It's starting?" Logan asked, confused. "What's starting?"

"The pre-teen girl days. They're starting, my friend."

"She's eleven…" said Logan with a shrug.

"Yeah, she's eleven," Rory agreed. "And next year she'll be twelve and the sweet precious baby girl that we brought home from the hospital will be gone and she'll be replaced by some unrecognizable hormone raged monster possessed by the spirit of an unhinged reality television star who's 'not here to make friends! She's here to win!'"

"Win what?" Logan asked with a furrowed brow.

"That's the question. No one knows. All we know is that we…" Rory pointed back and forth between herself and Logan. "...we are going to lose."

Logan laughed and pulled Rory a little closer to him. He started lightly massaging the place where his hand was resting on her upper arm, and Rory let out a sigh of contentment at the feeling.

"Can't wait."

Rory pulled away from him at the sound of his words. Not the words themselves. Those were pretty normal. It was the way that he had said them. They sounded so… earnest. So lacking in irony or sarcasm. He really had to be more tired than he was even letting on, or he had completely lost his mind.

"Did you get hit in the head with a baseball bat or something?" she asked. "What is wrong with you?"

Logan just laughed and pulled her back into him.

"Nothing's wrong with me," he said. "My Dad just reminded me of something important tonight. That's all."

"Okay…" said Rory. "Now I'm really worried about you."

"To be fair, he didn't mean it the way I took it...I just… I don't want to wish it away. Any of it," he said, taking a deep breath and letting out a deep sigh. "It doesn't last forever."


AN: Thanks guys! Hope you liked it. Don't forget to leave a review.