A/N: So it's now been 5 months and I'm still emotionally compromised by the revival. Winter is easily my favourite episode of AYITL overall but writing the supplement to this part was harder than I thought it would be. The flow seems a little disjointed but hopefully it's still readable.

Thank you for the lovely feedback and encouragement. I'm still trying to stick to canon and fill in the blanks according to my imagination so as much as I would love for Rory and Logan to sort out their nonsense immediately, there's still a way to go.

Chapter title from 'Lucky You' by The National.

Part 6

you own me, there's nothing you can do

Rory had barely had time to catch her breath upon her return to London before she was shuttling between publishers to pitch articles whilst arranging another meeting with Naomi Shropshire to discuss a supplement to her New Yorker piece.

Logan, having enjoyed his few days off, was now neck-deep in work again, another year closer to his father's assumed retirement, and therefore he moved another year closer to his inevitable ascendancy to the Huntzberger Publishing Group throne.

New Year's Eve was upon them but with both their workloads full (a welcome change for Rory), neither of them had made firm plans.

Luckily for them, Finn had other ideas. He flew back into London from wherever he had disappeared to several days prior, bringing Colin with him. He forcibly removed Rory from her seat in front of the computer, collected Logan from the office and piled them both onto a private jet at City Airport; Logan still in his work suit, Rory without her coat. They landed in Edinburgh a little over an hour later for the start of Hogmanay celebrations. Finn assessed that though it had nothing on Sydney, the Scots knew how to throw a party.

So they saw off 2015 in style with a bit of dancing, a smattering of cocaine and a lot of champagne and Scotch. They woke too early on New Year's Day, the dehydration and profound nausea preventing them from sleeping it off. The plane journey home was no where near as pleasant as the one they'd taken there not 24 hours earlier and when they staggered into Logan's London home they both reached for more coffee and Alka-Seltzers reflexively. They're not kids anymore and the 2-day hangovers they both suffered through drove that point home.

It's as if Auld Lang Syne ringing in 2016 was the wake up call they needed. Christmas had been wonderful, indulgent, and nostalgic but now it was just another January. At home there would be snow to help continue the romantic fantasy but in London, there is just rain and grey reality.

Rory's mind is working relentlessly, the guilt dredged up during her visit home coursing through her veins. Even when an ocean separates them, she can't stop thinking about Logan. Sometimes it's in the form of shame (like when Paul brings her flowers for their anniversary but her mind flashes back to spending the morning of said anniversary in Logan's bed); and sometimes she'll recall his sweet gestures and the accompanying smile he wears when he knows he's making her happy, and her Harlequin romance face makes a reappearance (and it's obvious, so obvious that her grandmother sees it, remarking that she looks like she's in love and foolishly attributing it to the boyfriend that no one can remember).

She knows she is (in love) and that she does look that way. She isn't even trying that hard to hide it anymore. She and Logan are as 'couple-y' as they've ever been. Except that they're not. Because there's Paul. And Odette. And the fact that rather than being a couple, they're actually having an affair that no one knows about (except for Lane, Colin and Finn, because apparently they can't even conduct a secret affair properly.).

And then just when she's wondering what is actually holding them back from being together, she remembers. Oh yeah, because she's a raging failure and can't manage to pull her shit together for love nor money (quite literally in both cases). The niggles that once festered in her brain are now fully-fledged doubts and she can't even tell Logan the whole truth about it. Her bank account balance is plunging without a steady pay check and she just can't bring herself to dip into the inheritance her grandfather left her. She won't, not until she feels at least a little worthy of his pride. She hasn't met his expectations, hasn't met anyone's, least of all her own.

She's pinning a lot of her hopes on her Naomi connection as she seems to have lost her flair for writing much of anything else; she's not submitting nearly as many articles these days, her laptop filling up with unfinished, unedited, un-publishable essays. Besides, there's something about free spirit Naomi and her 'I give zero fucks' attitude, that Rory is trying to emulate with very little success.

Ugh. Life (and love) sucks. She never thought it would be this hard.

It's these kind of thoughts that keep her up at night, insomnia becoming her only consistent bedfellow. She drinks more alcohol at night to help her sleep, and more coffee than usual in the mornings to help her wake.

When Naomi suggests the book proposal, Rory can barely contain herself from bouncing off the ceiling – this could be it, her shot, she persuades herself (it's not the sort of thing she thought she'd end up doing but she's really trying to roll with the punches these days). So she throws herself into it wholeheartedly and starts to claw her self-confidence back.

She could go into free fall but this opportunity gives her something to cling onto. And it makes a nice (and healthier) change from her clinging to Logan.

Logan, on the other hand, utilises the natural break of the year ending and another beginning to regain his composure, he'd nearly pushed too far over Christmas but he had to step back again and follow Rory's lead. At no point had she overtly expressed a wish for anything more than what they currently have; except for the boxes that is.

He loves that she has her belongings sent to his home, this coupled with the key he gave her are cementing their relationship far beyond the original boundaries of their casual agreement. He's seeing much more of Rory than he is of Odette (who still seems entirely comfortable with their arrangement, she gently rebuffs any wedding plans just as he does).

It's unbelievably naïve but he starts to believe that there's a chance that this will naturally work itself out. He can bide his time and Rory will come around, she'll decide that she wants to be with him, she'll want to commit and they can make a go of it, for real this time. He and Odette can go their separate ways with no harm done (except to their fathers' business plans, but there's other ways to make money that don't include marrying off your children).

Unfortunately, time seems to be passing by quicker than they're sorting their crap out. January turns to February and he starts receiving invitations to various events in the spring and summer, where he and Odette will be expected to attend and fawn over each other like the flawless socialites they've been manufactured to be.

He's not sure how much longer they can go on being 'engaged' without you know, actually being engaged. He knows that she doesn't love him either, and that it won't break her heart when their 'relationship' inevitably breaks down. It's not just that they live separate lives and rarely see each other, and then when they do it's usually in order to accompany each other to charity benefits or mandatory family gatherings. It's not even that they both half-heartedly agreed to an engagement without really considering the implications of it – namely that eventually they'd be expected to marry.

In truth, Logan still doesn't know why he agreed to it.

In actual truth, he does. He's bending to the same familial expectation and pressure he's been tied to all his life and he still hates it. He got away once and came back willingly. He's still trying to figure out whether that was the right decision.

Not to mention that a part of him hoped that it would get a reaction out of Rory (which it did) and compel her to commit to him (which it did not).

And work? Well that's a whole different beast.

He buries himself in his work so that he won't think about Rory; it's relatively easy to do (the burying, he's not sure he'll ever find a big enough distraction to stop him from thinking about her), as with each passing year his duties within his family's conglomerate seem to only magnify.

He'd agreed to come back to the company nearly 5 years earlier. Maybe it had something to do with him not feeling quite at home on the West Coast; maybe because what was once a start-up was now ancient by tech standards and wasn't really challenging him the way he knew he needed to be; maybe it was because he seemed to be hurtling towards 30 without the ropes tethering him that he imagined he would have at that age – a wife, perhaps a child, a defined role within his family and the wider society set.

Family. That's what it came down to in the end. He missed them. Mostly Honor, who couldn't travel to see him as frequently once she gave birth to his newborn niece, but also his parents, for some abnormal and unknown reason.

His grandfather's passing was enough of a shock to the system, both for Logan and the Huntzberger family as a whole, to enable him to refocus. He and his father had some very open and frank discussions and while the same party lines were brought out again - obligation, responsibility, legacy – they rang truer for Logan in his older and less self-indulgent capacity.

The weeks he spent back home in Connecticut assisting with the emotional and practical fallout from the elderly man's death were enough to pull him back in. It wasn't necessarily healthy, but it was home and it was what he was used to.

As time went on, he found himself compelled to follow more and more of his parents' wishes, their (and more specifically his father's) approval still out of reach. It felt as if he had barely made himself at home in New York before he was living out of a suitcase on almost continuous global business trips, the importance of strengthening the Huntzberger name in international media paramount.

The travel was enjoyable, as it always is, but he couldn't deny that loneliness wasn't his favourite trekking companion. He no longer had the same resistance to sitting still that he had possessed years prior and he was yearning for something decidedly more settled. Hence: London, and then Odette. He wasn't at home, and he still didn't see as much of his niece (and then nephew too) as he'd like, but he had stability and his role in his family re-established. It was enough.

Except now, with Rory and the slight possibility of something genuine on the horizon, he's not sure that it is anymore.

He doesn't even have his raucous childhood friends to rely on to take his mind off his current predicaments. Finn and Colin (especially Finn) will not stop wanting to talk to him about Rory and their 'situation' now and it's making it all seem a lot more real. Not in the 'it feels so real and true in my heart' kind of way but in the 'I'm acting like a cowardly asshole and this is going to blow up spectacularly in my face' kind of way.

This reality bites.

Rory bags up some items from her boxes of belongings at Lane's house, her elusive lucky outfit still at large. She lets a smile tug at her lips as she reads her latest text from Logan, explaining that she better appreciate the snow and blistering cold 'proper Winter weather' she's enduring at home while he's stuck in rainy, dreary London. He's such a Brit these days, complaining about the weather is one of his most frequent pastimes. She's trying to formulate a reply, grumbling that her Condé Nast meeting's been pushed, when texts from both her mother and Paul enter her inbox.

Crap, crap, crap!

Oh, poor Paul, how she let this go on for this long she doesn't know. He knows that she's back in town for a while so it would be rude to not catch up with him. And maybe if she sees him face-to-face she can finally pluck up the courage to let him down gently.

He's the latest in a string of 'Paul's she's dated since she left Yale, (rather bland, safe, predictable, unexciting men. The anti-Logan.) but he's the only one who's lasted this long. She's pretty sure the relatively miniscule amount of time they spend together might have something to do with that.

Her phone buzzes again with another message from her mother, checking when she's returning to London.

Crap!

She hates lying to her mom, she really does. Even though she's an adult and (mostly) moved out now, she still feels guilty at keeping things from her. Sometimes she's positive that Lorelai is onto her and that she must know about Logan, but after speaking to her earlier she's not so sure again. It would definitely make it easier if her mom found out for herself, it would save Rory from having to tell her.

She sighs and ignores her newest texts, vowing to reply to them both later before she types out a response to Logan.

Lane puts away the last remaining equipment from their band practice, as Rory places a bag by the door and tidies her boxes into the corner. She had heaved a sigh of relief when Zack suggested that he and the guys take the twins out for dinner to give her some peace. Peace wasn't something that Lane had an abundance of these days.

She sees Rory looking distractedly at her phone and grabs her chance.

"So … how was London?" Lane attempts to adopt a casual tone.

Rory's head snaps up and the forceful way she shoves the phone into her pocket tells Lane all she needs to know about exactly who's messages had her attention.

"We haven't really had much of a chance to talk recently."

Rory can read between the lines, she knows what Lane means, what she wants to know.

"London was fine. London is fine." She fiddles with her scarf restlessly.

Lane nods. "Great. I didn't want to say anything in front of Paris in case she doesn't know."

(Paris had departed to "check on her breeders" half way through their rehearsal and though Lane desperately hoped she hadn't been referring to actual human beings, she was fairly certain that that was in fact the case.)

"She doesn't." Rory replies, following Lane into the kitchen. "It's just you ... and now the boys too I guess.

"Colin and Finn, you remember, Logan's best friends." Rory responds to Lane's questioning stare.

"We ran into them … actually, they ran into me, at Logan's place, and I wasn't really wearing much of anything at the time. Kinda hard to hide the truth from them after that."

Rory internally winced at the embarrassing memory.

Lane's eyes widened. "Wow. That's … a development. So they know that you two are … Vegas-ing?" She cringed a little at her use of the term, Rory had recounted it enough times to her, but Lane was still pretty sure that it was all crap and a cover for their denial.

Rory nodded.

"Are you worried they're going to say anything?"

Rory snorted and shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. I trust them. Even if I didn't, Logan does. They're like his family. Actually, in some ways they're better than his family."

Every time she says his name she whispers a little, as if someone might overhear.

"So things are good with Logan?" Lane asks, leaning against the kitchen table.

"Yeah, things are good." Rory smiles. "Christmas was … incredible." Her expression turns pensive. "But then I came home and Paul was here having dinner with my family, for our anniversary no less - the second, in case you're keeping track because I definitely haven't been. And I just felt like crap."

Lane nods in understanding, though she's not sure she understands at all and she doesn't know what to say. She can't exactly say that it's okay, because it's not is it?

Every time that Rory explains a little more about her setup with Logan, it confuses Lane further. The way Rory describes it they sound so … together, except that they're apparently not.

"And my mom just keeps asking questions and I don't know what to tell her."

"Lorelai still doesn't know?"

"Apparently not."

"She hasn't asked why you're in London so much?"

"I'm not there that much." Rory retorts defensively.

Lane raises her eyebrows and nods, "You kinda are. I'm pretty sure that you see Logan more than you see anyone else."

"It's just-"

"Please don't say the words 'casual' or 'what happens in Vegas'!" Her best friend interrupts; she's not sure how many more times she can hear it.

Rory rolls her eyes. "I was going to say I just have a lot of work going on there right now. So, it's convenient to stay with him."

"Yeah, that's why you stay in his bed, for the convenience."

Rory sighs. She knows that she doesn't have a leg to stand on in this argument.

Lane can see the dilemma her oldest friend is going through and if it were anyone else behaving like this she's sure that she'd be calling them names and condemning them to a painful existence. But it's Rory, and she knows in her heart that she's not deliberately setting out to hurt anyone.

"Rory, do you love him?" She asks seriously.

Rory opens her mouth to answer and then closes it. She runs her hands through her hair, pacing the kitchen.

"It's complicated. My career is kind of up in the air right now and I think I need to figure out my work stuff first, before I can get to the Logan stuff."

"So I'll take that's as a 'yes'? Why don't you just tell him? The work stuff can wait."

Rory looks at her oldest friend, not wanting to answer the question, the pain evident in her eyes.

They're both startled by the front door opening, Paris letting herself into the house without an invitation.

"I swear to God, it is impossible to hire competent human beings these days. Those girls might have hospitable uteruses but they're going to need a few more sales seminars before I can trust them in the field again."

Lane looks towards Rory, who just shrugs in response.

"I've got to head home now, you want a ride?" Paris offers.

"That'd be great, thanks." Rory gives Lane a quick hug goodbye before picking up her bags.

"Think about what I said." Lane murmurs as the two women leave.

Rory nods. As if she's thinking about anything else at the moment.

Rory walks out of the terminal, her head stuffy and painful; these back and forth flights were annihilating her immune system and though she knows she's only been ill for a few days, it feels like weeks. She spots Logan leaning against the car waiting for her and she can't help the smile that spreads across her features.

They'd managed to avoid spending Valentine's Day together as she'd stayed in New York a couple of days longer than was strictly necessary, not being ready to repeat the obligatory holiday intimacy so soon after Christmas and the emotional turmoil that had uncovered. She wants to keep her distance from him, just until she can get a handle on Naomi's book and relax a little career-wise, but one look at him and her resolve begins to crumble.

"You didn't have to pick me up," she says as he kisses her quickly and takes her bags.

"I wanted to," he insists, holding open the car door for her.

"Well, you certainly didn't have to upgrade my flight." She sputters through a cough before reaching for another tissue from her pocket.

Being sick sucks. But being surprised with a flight upgrade by your non-boyfriend definitely does not.

Logan joins her in the back of the car and the driver pulls away.

"Well I couldn't have you infecting a whole aircraft full of unsuspecting mortals now could I?"

"I can just infect everyone in first class instead?"

"They're all assholes anyway." He smirks and she allows herself a laugh before another wheezing fit begins.

He gives her another gentle kiss once she stops coughing. "We'll be home soon, I've got coffee, tea with honey and lemon, chicken soup. If all else fails, I've got copious amounts of wine. We'll have you feeling better in no time."

She leans against his shoulder and closes her eyes. "You're too good to me."

Logan sighs sadly, taking her hand. "Nowhere near good enough," he whispers, almost too quiet for her to hear.

With Logan's protective and considerate care (and a stack of over the counter medicines), Rory recovers from her cold in time for his birthday. The guys are coming into town to take him out so it's not like she'll need to be in girlfriend-mode to make a fuss of him, they can just keep things relaxed and all hang out as friends.

They're in the car on the way to a club when they find out that Finn and Colin have invited Robert to join them; and Rory panics a little, the thought of their secret spreading even further freaking her out. Logan reassures her that if they don't mention anything to him they can justify her being there as a friend who happens to be passing through town (he doesn't think it's that believable and doubts that Robert will either but it's too late to do much else).

It might have worked if Rory hadn't decided (sometime around her third cocktail) to hell with keeping it a secret from Robert and she slid into Logan's lap while the guys were at the bar. She loops her arm around his neck and pulls him close until he's nuzzling her chest – you'd have to be blind and an idiot to think they're not together.

Finn can only shrug when Robert queries, "Am I supposed to act surprised at these two, or pretend I don't know about this?" whilst jabbing a thumb towards the cuddling pair. "I mean, Logan's still engaged right?"

"The official line is that they're just friends," Colin explains as he hands his credit card to the bartender. "Unofficially, they're pathetic morons who won't admit how they feel. We talk to Logan about it and he shuts us down. He's threatened us with physical violence if we try to talk to Rory about it. They've both got their heads firmly buried in the sand, it's all going to end in tears, we're all going to have to pretend we didn't see it coming."

"That pretty much covers it." Finn determines.

"Right," Robert nods. "Huntzberger does like to keep life interesting doesn't he?"

Rory plants a kiss on Logan's lips as the guys get more drinks and she struggles to keep it on the right side of decent.

"I think we can safely assume that Robert might not believe we're just friends." He utters as he spies the men evaluating them across the room.

Rory scrunches her nose in embarrassment, "Sorry, should have kept my hands to myself."

"I think he'd probably have caught on anyway. I'll talk to him, he won't say anything I'm sure."

"Well then, I don't want to worry about it right now." She pecks his lips again.

"Are you having fun?" He asks, fairly needlessly, seeing as she's clearly three sheets to the wind and currently bopping to the music.

She flashes a grin in his direction and sighs happily. "I really am. I'm sorry I'm a little drunk, I've been so stressed out but my latest meeting with Naomi went really well and I want to celebrate. A night like tonight is just what I needed."

Even in her inebriated state, she means what she says. Just like at Christmas and New Year's, she was enjoying feeling comfortable and like she can be herself with them all. Plus, it's refreshing for her and Logan to be a little less domestic and have a blowout with his best friends. It's sort of like old times, reliving their college youth – except it's not. Now, rather than the latest party and their next stunt, they talk about their jobs and the state of the economy whilst ordering bottles of wine, not shots, and heading home at a semi-reasonable hour. She had kept in touch with the guys through social media and occasionally ran into them on her travels but this was different. Just as her and Logan still fit years later, so does she with his friends (their friends).

Logan smiles at the dreamy, glazed look in her eyes. He thought having the guys around would prevent them from being too close this evening. Clearly he was wrong.

"What about you birthday boy, are you having fun?" She teases him gently.

"I am, thank you. Although I would have had just as much, if not even more, fun at home."

"You know that we have to let Finn off his leash regularly otherwise he gets cranky cooped up inside."

"I had no intention of inviting Finn, or any of them." Logan's voice drops an octave and that, combined with their close proximity and the sensation of his skin on hers, causes Rory to shiver.

They're rejoined by Colin, Finn and Robert and Rory slips back into her seat while Logan keeps his hand on her thigh.

The conversation picks up again; Colin describes how he's trying physiotherapy another time before he decides on knee surgery. Robert asks Rory if she's still living in Brooklyn and she explains that she's moving around at the moment.

"Which is all good fun, except I forgot to label my packing boxes so I'm still figuring out where half my stuff is." She declares as she polishes off her drink.

"Lucky dress?" Logan asks.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Rory shrugs in reply.

"Why don't we just get you a new one, I'm sure we could track one down?" He offers.

"It won't be the same, it needs to be …" she searches for the right word, "used, for it to be lucky."

He leans in even further towards her, whispering in her ear, "I could dirty it up a bit for you if you'd like?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could." She flirts back, her cheeks reddening. "But even if we got a new lucky outfit, I'd still need to find my underwear."

"What happened to your underwear?" He questions, confused.

"I packed it up and now I can't find most of it."

"You haven't said anything to me about not finding your underwear."

They continue in hushed tones.

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly need a whole lot of underwear while I'm here." She goads him with a raised eyebrow and he blushes, he – Logan Huntzberger, ladies man with the smile that melts panties – actually blushes. She loves it, loves the effect that one flirtatious remark from her has on him.

She still doesn't know how she feels able to be so forward with him. She supposes it has always been this way, or from very early on at least. Surely she should have shied away from his strong personality, and reverted to the shy, quiet girl she once was. She didn't though, instead she met him toe-to-toe at every cocky smirk, suggestive comment and intellectual provocation he sent her way. And over a decade later, it was still the same. If anything, she held the upper hand these days. It was she who set the tone for their relationship and it was up to him to keep up.

They continue locking eyes until Finn disrupts their impromptu staring contest.

"Have you two forgotten that we're here?!" He mocks, diverting their attention back to the rest of their group.

Logan laughs, shaking his head, "Sorry gentlemen, where were we?"

Finn stands, encouraging them all to raise their glasses and proceeds to declare a toast (the sixth or perhaps seventh of the night) to Logan's birthday.

Logan and Rory traipse up the stairs to bed in the early hours of the morning. He had wondered, earlier in the evening, whether he should take advantage of her cheery disposition and prompt a conversation about their situation, but the way she toes off her shoes clumsily and tumbles onto the pillows fully clothed make it clear that the opportunity has passed.

Rory glances towards a sleeping Logan the next morning as she checks her emails on her phone – another polite rejection to a query letter she'd sent, and a barely coherent message from Naomi seemingly nullifying their most recent interview – and rubs her temples in frustration.

How she wished she could use the brainless courage that alcohol provides her with to just come out and tell him how she feels. But she meant what she said to Lane, she needs to get her job in order first before she can start untangling this mess they've made. It probably would have been simpler had they not carried on for as long as they have done, but she can't turn back the clock now.

She certainly didn't anticipate that them deciding to have a casual relationship would trigger the metaphorical chasm they have between them. They were so open and able to talk to each other once but those days feel long gone now. In some ways (friendship, chemistry, teamwork) they're the same as they were 9 years ago, in others (most significantly, emotional maturity) it's as if their sudden and very painful break-up caused them both to regress.

Logan stirs and sensing her eyes on him, he wakes and with a smile greets her good morning.

"Everything okay in there?" He asks, perceiving her internal conflict. It's written all over her face.

She nearly tells him.

I hate myself for becoming such a mess. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on not telling you how much I love you. I have no idea what I'm doing and even less of an idea how to make it all better.

Of course she doesn't say that though, that would be too much like possessing a backbone.

"Yeah," she plasters her best fake smile on. "Just in desperate need of coffee and some breakfast."

He knows she's lying, knows there's something more that she wants to say and he nearly says so.

Tell me what's wrong. Tell me everything. I'll make it better. Tell me what you want. I'll do anything.

But she's out of bed, changing into one of his t-shirts and robe, and heading downstairs before he uses his chance.

Instead, he builds his walls back up to match hers and they continue to say nothing.

After all, what's one more day (or week or month) of lying to themselves and each other after this long?