A/N: The response I have received for this has been wonderful so thank you so much.

Chapter title from 'Dangerous Woman' by Ariana Grande (not a massive fan of this song but these particular lyrics fit nicely).

Part 2

something bout you makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't

Rory took another sip of her drink as Lorelai regaled the room with another tale of Michel's antics at the inn. She took a glance around and felt her heart swell at her nearest and dearest being gathered together for her birthday. With no small thanks owed to the flowing alcohol even Richard and Emily were scarcely stifling laughter at their daughter's quips. Rory felt her phone buzz in her purse beside her and she lit up when she saw it held a text from Logan – Free to talk? xx

It had been a matter of weeks since Hamburg and since then they had exchanged sporadic texts and emails, kept it light and non-committal, flirtatious mentions of their reconnection but nothing concrete regarding their vague assurances to 'catch up again soon'. As more and more time passed, Rory could feel her nerve wavering. It was one thing to have a 'bonus night' (well 2 nights if you want to get technical) with an ex while you're both in a city far from home. It's another to embark on a casual love affair with your college sweetheart who you probably (definitely) still have feelings for. Add in the other guy who you also date casually, and who started calling himself your boyfriend last week, and the aforementioned ex's Parisian lover/girlfriend/informal paramour and you've pretty much got a recipe for disaster.

Rory appreciated that there was a fairly good chance of this ending poorly, but when it came to this particular risk taker she always found it difficult to shy away. She knew that she had to decide where she wanted to take her rekindled relationship with Logan and with a tipsy form of bravery she clutched her phone and stood.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." She said to the room and no one in particular. "I'll be right back."

She presses down to return a call as she walks towards the bathroom and closes the door firmly behind her.

"Hey Ace. Happy birthday. You having fun?"

"Hey yourself. Thank you, I'm just at my grandparents. They threw me a little party. What are you doing up so late?" Rory looked at the clock on the wall showing 8.15pm, making it 1.15am in London.

"I have been in a succession of the most horrifically boring and lengthy meetings you could possibly imagine since 10am this morning. The day was a success, firstly because we've managed to prove that human beings can survive such monotonous and inane bullshit with only a relatively small portion of sanity being lost; but additionally because everybody got what they wanted out of the deal which meant that everybody then had the ambition to drink their body weight in scotch and gin at a karaoke bar in Soho. I managed to duck out early but I've only just got home. I didn't want to miss the chance to wish you a happy birthday." He sounds tired but she can practically hear his self-assured smile.

"Well aren't you the gentleman, giving up rambunctious gin-soaked businessmen for me?" Rory teased, still not quite believing that she had Logan back in her life, in whatever capacity this was she didn't know, but for now she didn't need to. She had missed their banter, the friendship, the flirting. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"You know how special you are." He breathed, his voice slow and low. "Did you get my gift?"

She felt her cheeks redden faintly at his suggestive tone. "No, not yet. Sorry. You sent me a gift?"

"I sent it to your mom's house, I didn't have your address in New York and I didn't want to seem like a crazy stalker if I tracked it down by illicit means."

"I haven't been home yet. I came straight to Hartford from Chicago this afternoon."

"Ah the Windy City. Chasing a story?"

"Aren't I always?" Rory smiled into the phone, feeling more at ease and relaxed than she had done in weeks, since the last time she saw him. Granted, it was probably a lot to do with the tequila but she was sure that Logan had a least a little something to do with it. "I'll get it when I go back tonight. Thank you."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"I don't have to. It's a gift from you, it's bound to be a home run."

"Check you out with the sports metaphors."

"Hey I'm a serious reporter now, gotta keep up with the lingo." Rory teased herself and giggled.

"You sound happy Ace. And happy sounds good on you."

"You mean I sound drunk, which I am. But only a little bit. I think it's the margaritas."

Logan laughed on an inward breath and shook his head. "Woah, the Gilmores clearly do not know what they're letting themselves in for liquoring you up with margaritas. I remember what tequila does to you and that Rory Gilmore should definitely not be at dinner with her grandparents." He closed his eyes as he savoured the memory of that particularly enjoyable night back in New Haven.

They had gone out for dinner – Mexican – and washed it down with margaritas and a few tequila slammers. They had barely made it through the door of his apartment before Rory was stripping them both down and begging Logan to bend her over the pool table.

She had never before (and rarely since to be truthful) felt so brazen and sexually confident. Her rational mind knows that it was because she was branching out on her own, independent from her mother in a terrifying but necessary way for the first time ever. She and Logan were in a good place in their relationship, he made he feel free whilst knowing she was secure and safe with him enabling her to mature sexually, realising what she liked and what she wanted. But another part of her mind decided to blame the potent liquor and she could never look at a bottle of Don Julio in the same way again.

Rory blushed at their shared recollection and let her eyelids flutter shut as she leaned back on the closed door, exhaling with frustration. "Well there's no imminent danger tonight. I'm just with the family. Riding solo."

He wasn't about to let that double entendre go. "Oh plenty can happen when you're riding solo." This isn't exactly the tone he had imagined this conversation would take when he called but he wasn't about to derail it now.

"Logan …" she warned, but only barely. She could just imagine the smirk that he wore on his face at that moment and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it off. She hadn't realised how tightly wound this conversation was making her, her free hand had come to rest on her silk covered hip and she was just about resisting the urge to slip it under her dress and do something that would surely make her feel embarrassed in the morning.

Logan shifted in his seat on the couch, getting desperate for some form of friction. "I can't stop thinking about Hamburg. You were amazing Ace. I don't think there is a prettier sight in the world than you dropping that red dress on my hotel room floor." He takes a breath to compose himself, he called to wish her a happy birthday, not to initiate transatlantic phone sex during the first phone call they've shared in years.

Well, in truth, he also called because he was desperate to hear her voice. To remind him that what happened a few weeks ago wasn't just a (very elaborate, very R-rated) fantasy he had concocted inside his own mind. Because he had dreamed up some similar scenarios in the years they had been apart and in his weaker moments, he began to worry that, just as she had done when he met her at Yale, Rory Gilmore was once again diminishing his sanity.

There was a part of him, most likely the part still bruised and vulnerable from their break-up, that half-expected to never hear from her again after their rendezvous in Germany. He had tried to prepare himself for this outcome, telling himself that it was the closure that they both probably needed and that any continuation of their relationship would open up old wounds he had long been attempting to heal. There was just one problem, Logan was pretty sure he didn't want closure with Rory. So when he came across an article on the 'Top 10 Things To See And Do In Hamburg', he forwarded it to her before he gave himself a chance not to. Her response – I don't know, I think what I saw and did was better xx – not only made him choke on his drink but assured him that she wasn't looking for closure either.

"Do you remember what we talked about, maybe meeting up if I'm ever in London?" Rory asked an innocent enough question but the timbre of her voice betrayed her.

"Of course, how could I forget?"

"Well there's this article for the HuffPost that I keep meaning to follow up on and it would bring me to London at the end of next week if you'll be around."

"I'm around." He answered, quicker than was probably necessary. "I can show you the sights, take you out to dinner, there's this great exhibition at the British Library that you would love …"

"Logan." Rory interrupts him, her voice a sultry whisper. "Is that really what you want to do to me while I'm in London, take me to dinner?"

"Rory …" It's his turn to warn now.

"Ooh, it must be getting serious, you just 'Rory-ed' me."

"You're at dinner with your grandparents, your mom, I don't even know who else."

"The usual, Luke, a few friends, Lane … Paris is here too."

"Well that's a sufficient mood killer." Logan stood and began slowly pacing the living room, trying to shrug off any residual tension.

Rory chuckled softly. "So … I guess I should get back to the party."

"That's probably a sensible idea." He sighed. Ending this call was the sensible idea, his head was screaming at him to do it before he went too far down the path of no return. Unfortunately, other parts of his anatomy were less interested in what was wise and reasonable.

Rory caught her breath and chewed on her bottom lip. "I'll text you my flight details when I have them?"

"Definitely. If I can't be there to meet you, I'll send a car for you at the airport."

"Logan, you don't have to do that."

"Ace, it's no trouble and I want to." He declared. "I'll make sure I get some decent coffee in … and maybe some tequila." He added cheekily after a pause.

Rory gasped softly. "Bye Logan. Thanks for calling, and for the gift."

"Bye Ace. Happy birthday."

She was about to hang up but something stopped her, that brazen college girl rearing her head again. "Oh and Logan …?"

"Yeah?"

"Think of me tonight?" She murmured, her words full of promise and possibility.

She heard his breath catch in his throat, could practically hear his heartbeat quicken. "Count on it."

She hung up and Logan collapsed on the couch. Yep, she was definitely going to kill him.

Rory attempted to compose herself and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her before turning to see her mother walking in her direction.

"There you are. I was about to send out a search party." Lorelai said. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah of course. Just had to take a call real quick."

"Loverboy?" Lorelai jibed in a singsong voice.

"What? Who? No!" Rory answered, a little too defensively.

"Well you're looking pretty flushed kid. What's his name again, the guy you met at that work thing?"

Rory really had to search her arousal addled brain for the answer. "Oh Paul. It's just been a couple of dates (it's been nearly a year but in this moment Rory is struggling to remember the last time she saw him, let alone the first), it's nothing serious."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, but thousands wouldn't. The look on your face says otherwise."

Lorelai links her arm through Rory's and leads her back towards the festivities. "Another strawberry marg for the birthday girl?"

Rory shook her head firmly, attempting to banish the residual thoughts of Logan from her mind. "No, definitely no more margaritas."

Logan kept his promise and when she arrived at his home in London the following week there was indeed plenty of coffee (and a lone bottle of tequila) awaiting her. Rory took one look at the liquor and pulled Logan in for a bruising kiss. "I don't think I'll be needing that," she pledged before tugging at his tie and getting him to lead her to his bed.