Chapter 22

A/N: So my computer broke down and it is still not back to me but I could get my hands on the old laptop from a friend so here I am with a quick update. It is rather pointless. I agree lol, but I needed to have something to fill the time gap between the last chapter and the next one involving them going to Round Hill to visit Rose. So yes, this is a major filler, but I hope you can enjoy it nonetheless :) The next chapter is well on the way, but I have finals coming up so I don't know when I'll get to finish it. Let's hope soon :). In the meantime a huge thanks for all your wonderful reviews! Please read,(hopefully enjoy), and leave some more ;)

Cheers!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except what's mine ;)

Chapter 21

"One tequila, two tequila, floor."

"Hmm what do you think of this?" Rory turned around only to see Logan leaning against a marble horse's head. Not only that, it had fake flowers sticking out of it. She cocked an eyebrow. Two weeks had passed since the Mitchum incident and she still didn't know what exactly had happened, but after their fight and the passionate make up they had fallen back in their routine. The subject of Mitchum was shunned with utter carefulness and she tried to just get past the fact that he didn't want to talk about it. However, this…this she couldn't get past.

"You want to give your aunt a stone horse with carnations sticking out of its head for her 39th birthday?"

"Well she lives on a horse farm." He explained himself.

Rory gaped at him.

"What is wrong with you?! It's like between 5 minutes ago and now someone sucked your brain out through your nose. The other 2 suggestions had at least a humorous touch."

"I'm just brainstorming!" he shot back.

"You are clearly not, because that actually involves a brain. You cannot give that to Rose. That's just…" She cocked her head to take another look, "ugly."

"It's a postmodernist piece of art!"

"Oh is that what it says on the card? Are you really sure it's not: 'If you are seriously considering buying this artifact you are in dire need of psychiatric help'?" He sighed, slumming his shoulders. She was ruthless. Oh who was he kidding, she was right and he was absolutely out of ideas. He didn't have any to begin with and now they were standing in a dodgy art gallery with on one side a horses head with carnations sticking out of it and on the other a painting of a giant orange penis. At least there were no carnations...

"Shall we go?" She asked, "Or are you really considering buying that…thing for Rose? If you are I think I'm considering institutionalizing you. I seriously prefer the Arnold Schwartznegger nutcracker you suggested earlier over…this." She gestured at the equestrian statue.

"I just don't know what to get her! I used to be good at this! I can buy presents. Presents people actually love. And today it's just not working. Logan has left the building." He sighed and rubbed his face.

"No, Logan is leaving the building now." She took his hand, "Let's go get a cup of coffee. We need to recuperate. Come up with a plan B. A new strategy."

"Rory for president," he mumbled as she dragged him out the door and into the fresh air.

"Let's get her some…boots." Rory was hanging upside down from the couch.

"Boots?" She looked over to Logan who was laying on top of the pool table. After 5 hours of fruitless searching for a present for Rose Rory too had come to feel slightly pooped .

"I don't know and would you stop doing that? Remember last time you decided to do acrobatic stunts? You nearly split your skull on the kitchen floor like a ripe melon." He motioned to her position on the couch.

"There is nothing in there anyway. What is the matter with us? We have sunk as low as to ask Finn for help," she sighed.

"I have no idea..." They didn't get much time to mull about that one as the intercom zoomed.

"Can't move," Rory moaned.

Logan sighed and got off the table. On his way to the door he pulled Rory up and set her on the couch in a vertical position, yet the moment he let go of her she slummed on the cushions and declared she was boneless chicken. He shook his head and buzzed up whoever it was at the door without giving it much thought. A few moments later the door was torn open and Finn bounced into the apartment like a kangaroo on the loose.

"The reinforcements are here!" he yelled, a tequila bottle in one hand and a little box in the other, "After you called me in despair, I went and got our beloved Rose the perfect present!"

"A bottle of tequila?" Rory mumbled from the couch.

"What is up with you, love!?" he asked incredulously, "As if I would ever give Rose a bottle of booze…on itself! I brought this!" He extended the hand holding the package as if it was a piece of gold in a wrapper.

"What is it?" Logan asked plopping down on the couch next to Rory who now too was curiously eyeing the box in Finn's hand.

"It is…drum roll please…" he opened the box, "The windup hopping lederhosen!" Two pairs of raised eyebrows turned to look at the little plastic object and then at Finn's proud face.

"It's a what?" Rory asked looking at Logan.

"I have no idea." They watched in dumbfounded amazement as Finn wound up the lederhosen and set it on the coffee table. It indeed did its name justice. It hopped itself right off the rim. Neither one of them could find a coherent thing to say. It was just…so utterly pointless and Finn's enthusiasm felt so displaced.

"Come on, mate! Lederhosen! Bavaria 2001! Oktoberfest! Traditional folk costume worn by people in Bavaria? How can you not remember!"

"I remember the Oktoberfest, Finn… and I understand the concept of lederhosen…what I do not understand is the meaning of windup hopping lederhosen to Rose…or me for that matter. Why would someone make that? Why would you buy that?"

Finn glared at them.

"Don't ask what the point of this thing is! Don't ask me why someone would make that and as far as the buying goes. I will show you the brilliance of the windup hopping lederhosen with this." He held up the bottle of tequila.

"Logan," Rory started leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Mhm?"

"We don't have a gift for your aunt and her birthday is in a week." He nodded patting her knee as Finn disappeared in the kitchen to get them some glasses.

A bottle of tequila later the hopping lederhosen had hopped about everywhere it was possible. The cabinets, the pool table, across the floor, the counter and Rory's leg. And with each hop it made more and more sense. They were what they were and that was about all one had to understand. Logan doubled over in another round of laughter as they hopped over Finn's butt cheek.

"My fair friends," Finn honed, "If there were more lederhosen and tequila on this planet, there would be world peace."

"I will drink to that!" Rory jumped on the couch and nearly tumbled backwards as her balance left her in the lurch. Logan chuckled. He was not going to pretend he was sober, but Rory, Rory was plain sloshed. He had never seen her like that since she had never been an excessive drinker, but today something seemed off with all of them.

"I looooove you!" She exclaimed and took a leap in to his not waiting arms. Her weight made him fall backwards on top of Finn who screamed in agony. Rory started laughing and Logan could not help but join her as Finn huffed and puffed under them.

"The hosen! OW! Get off! Get off of my back and the hosen! They are still hopping! They are hopping into my spine!"

Still laughing they rolled off of him and Rory wiped her tears. Finn squirmed like a fish on dry land and peeled the hopping lederhosen out of his back.

"Oh no!" he then yelled, "You killed it! It's not hopping anymore!"

"No!" Rory gasped. All 3 of them stared at the little thing that just wouldn't hop. Logan poked it and it fell over.

"What will we give Rose now?" Rory wondered out loud and ran her hands through her hair.

"This sucks," Finn groaned still flat on the floor.

"We need music," Logan declared getting up from the floor, "And more booze."

"Yes! I want to dance with you, Finn!" Rory laughed, "I have always wanted to do that with you!"

"I can't feel my legs," Finn grumbled as Logan fumbled with the stereo.

Rory raised her hand and smacked his butt with her tongue stuck out. The sound echoed through the apartment.

"OUCH!"

"See? You can feel. Now get up! Let's daaahaance!" She laughed getting up and finding her balance against the pool table.

"That was my arse! Totally different nerve group!"

"Oh my God. Eu frikkin' reka!" Logan exclaimed putting his arms around Rory who leaned against him and let herself go limp, "I know what to give her! Finn write this down! Bob Dylan The Freewheelin'! I had seen this vintage 1963 record online a week ago. Rose will be over the moon! Can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. And then we can dig through old pictures of her…make a compilation on screen! What do you think, Ace?"

"How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a maaaaan," she sang hanging in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

"I'll take that as a yes then…" he chuckled, "Did you write it down, Finn?"

"One moment…What.do.you.think.Ace. How.Many.Roads…." He frantically scribbled on a piece of paper.

"You can stop now, Finn," he laughed.

"I don't feel so good," Rory then said burying her face in her hands looking pale as a sheet of paper.

"Okay…hold on," he said dragging her to the bathroom. They both collapsed on the cool tile floor and Rory reached for the toilet bowl. He gathered her hair in his hand and held it out of her face as she was sick.

"Feeling better?" he asked as she tried to scramble up.

"No…" With that she hugged the toilet again.

"Well you know what they say: One tequila, two tequila, floor," he chuckled, "I think you are partied out for today." He felt for her. That was going to be one mean hangover the next day.

"Come, I'll help you in bed," he said when she flushed.

"No. I'm just gonna sleep here," she protested laying down on the floor and closing her eyes as the cold tiles offered some relief.

"Don't be silly, come on." He tried to pull her up

"No...please just leave me here," she begged. He sighed and grabbed a towel sliding it under her head, getting up from the floor and letting her be.

"How is reporter girl?" Finn asked pouring himself another drink

"Hammered," he let himself fall back on the couch suddenly tired, an anticlimax in comparison to just 20 minutes ago.

"Where is she?"

"Bathroom." He shook his head as Finn held up the bottle.

"You just left her there?"

"For now." He sighed, "I'm kind of partied out. How bout you?"

"The Finn-man is NEVER partied out!" he declared saluting with his drink and pouring it in his mouth.

Rory's awakening was met by a ray of sunlight and a stabbing pain. She moaned and buried her head under the covers. She didn't even remember getting in bed.

"Morning, miss Tequila, or well…good afternoon. How are you feeling?" Logan's far too happy voice filled her ears and amplified the stabbing pain in her head. She grunted.

"Just as I thought. Hence, I have something for you." He pulled the covers off her head and she opened one eye to see a glass in his hand filled with a dodgy green substance.

"What is that?" she asked groggily.

"Finn's magic potion. Will knock that hangover right out of you," he smirked.

"By sending me into a coma? I just need a cup of coffee," she grunted.

"Well you see that is a common mistake. Most people just blindly stretch out their shaky hand to the coffeepot since it of course holds the cure to all ailments, except for hangovers. See you are dehydrated and since caffeinated beverages aggravate said dehydration, you should really stay away. Instead…you should try Finn's quaff," he explained patiently and sat down next to her on the bed.

"You are hurting my brain!" she exclaimed.

"I'm gonna set this down here," he said setting the glass on the nightstand, "And I'm gonna leave you here to be, miss Sauerkraut, all alone. I'm going to New York."

"Now?"

"Yes. I called the guy with the record for Rose. Going to pick it up now. Do you need something? Besides a new liver?"

"I'm so not laughing," she grumbled.

"Well," he kissed the top of her head, "feel better, drink that potion and please…when you feel up for it: take a shower."

Rory let out a complaining moan, wondering how on earth he could be this quirky after their tequila bench party last night.

"Oh and don't freak out. Finn is sleeping in the bath tub. Unfortunately naked." She heard the door falling in its lock and sighed. Suddenly her eyes popped open. She needed to pee. How was she supposed to pee with Finn in the bath tub?!

"Logan?" she weakly called without result. Good God, she was never going to drink again in her life. She eyed the green goo Logan had left on the nightstand and reached out for it, pulling it closer. As she brought her nose above and sniffed it a new wave of nausea flushed her body. She set the drink on the stand again and buried her nose in the covers. No chance in hell was she going to drink that. Good ol' aspirin and – despite whatever Logan was saying- a cup of steaming coffee would help her right on track. Rolling herself out of bed as a geriatric log of wood she tried to get herself in a vertical position, but she got hit by vertigo and had to seek support in the wall. In the kitchen she got herself a glass of water, regretting it immediately as her blather urgently reminded her it was not a bottomless pit. Crap. Gathering all the will she could muster she made her way into the bathroom and nearly ran out again as she saw Finn's hairy leg hanging out of the tub and a loud snore echoing through the green tiled space. However, this was an emergency, one that she could not ignore. She grabbed the duck shaped bath pillow and approached the tub as quietly as possible. Then without thinking she flung the pillow on his exposed crotch. That wasn't so bad. Step two was making it to the toilet. She looked at it with longing her hands on her hips ready to pull down her hello kitty shorts. She took a deep breath, eyeing Finn in the bath tub. He looked dead. He was not going to wake up at the right moment as she pulled down her pants. That would be too much of a coincidence. Yes. She could do it. Like ripping off a band aid. One…Two… She tore down the shorts and almost fell in the toilet in her hurry to get her butt on the seat. Good. He had not woken up. Step three… Step three wouldn't come. She was too tense. She simply could not pee with a drunk Australian in her tub.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," she mumbled, "Think big wide open spaces… no. Small closed spaces with nooo Australians." She took a deep breath. "I CAN'T DO IT!" Her cry echoed through the room and Finn wildly jumped up from the tub. She screamed her hand reaching for the toilet brush and flinging it at him. He screamed as well his eyes the size of saucers. They looked at each other in horror and screamed again. Rory's heart was beating so hard she was sure it was going to break through her ribcage.

"Where am I?!" Finn yelled.

"Don't look!" she replied grabbing a towel, "Get out!"

"What?!"

"GET OUT!" she yelled pointing at the door. Finn seemingly disoriented got up in the tub. The duck shaped bath pillow pressed to his groin.

"NOW!" she repeated as he lifted one leg and shakily set it on the floor. Unfortunately the other one got caught and he landed on the floor mooning the world with his white hairy Australian butt.

Yet he managed to crawl out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Rory put a hand on her chest trying to calm her heart down. What a morning.

Feeling relieved she left the bathroom and saw Finn sitting on a barstool still profusely naked. The duck was sitting in his lap. Great. Now she couldn't use either one of them ever again.

"Coffee?" she asked, "Or would you like your brew? It's on my night stand."

"Brew please, love."

She planted it in front of his nose and watched in horror as he gulped it down and burped. At times like these she was grateful for her coffeemaker and pressed the button.

"Finn," she then said, "He can not know this. EVER." Finn grinned sheepishly but at the sight of her dagger throwing eyes he gravely nodded.

"Never."

"And I want another duck shaped bath pillow."

"What is wrong with this one?" he asked holding it up.

"Just…hold it down there. Please." Rory flinched pouring her mug full of coffee and sat down across from him.

"Finn?" she then asked sipping her coffee and feeling the salvation seeping through her, "Where are your clothes?"

"I have no idea."

TBC