A/N: I don't own GG.

Author's Note: I have begun creating some artwork for my story and will post them on my LJ account. The link is available on my profile for those of you who are interested.

It's Easy Being Popular When You're the Only One

With his arm once again around Rory, Logan led the small contingent to the pool house. He'd spotted it when he'd made his way to the back patio, and it would be a prime location for a more intimate party. Secretly, he simply wanted Rory away from the pack of wolves in her grandparent's house. He'd been to enough of these parties in his life to instantly recognize the signs of a "marry our eligible girl" party instantly. Normally, he didn't mind these parties so much; it was always nice to not have to find a date. Tonight, he hated the parties more than spending a business weekend with Mitchum. Tonight, the girl in question was Rory Gilmore.

"Think your grandparents will mind?" Logan asked as they drew closer to the pool house.

"Logan?" Richard asked.

"I guess we'll find out," Rory whispered as the pair turned around.

Richard clasped his hands in front of him. He quickly took in the rather familiar way the two were standing and silently congratulated himself. This was precisely the type of match he and Emily had been hoping for, and so early in the night…ah, a fine evening.

"Richard," Logan greeted. He extended the arm that wasn't currently wrapped around Rory to Richard. He'd thought about releasing her, but thought better of it. From the brief accounts he'd received from both Colin and Finn, he needed to be especially vigilant. Emily apparently had a talent for removing Rory from any boy she thought was monopolizing Rory's time.

"It's good to see you," Richard began. "I wasn't aware you already knew my granddaughter."

"We work on the paper together. Doyle, our editor, is quite a task master and has forced Rory to share her notes with me on several articles," Logan offered as an explanation.

"Our Rory's quite a writer," Richard bragged.

"That she is, Richard," Logan agreed.

It didn't escape Richard's notice that Rory allowed Logan to control the conversation. She also appeared comfortable with Logan keeping his arm around her shoulder. While he knew Rory had had boyfriends, she was also extremely picky about the people she associated with, and knowing her the way he did, Richard suspected Rory fancied Logan. He had less knowledge about Logan, but he knew Rory was a very special girl…one worthy to be the wife of the Huntzberger heir. He saw no need to continue to parade her around the house, although Emily would be momentarily disappointed. Deciding to deal with his wife on his own, he needed to allow the pair to find a more private area. Noticing their intended destination, he smiled; they were escaping to the pool house. Logan showed wisdom in removing Rory from the other men present at tonight's soirée.

"All right, Rory. Since I see you are in capable hands, I will make another round and end up at the bar," Richard told the pair.

Confused by the whole exchange, Rory watched her grandfather walk away. She turned to face Logan, and smiled when she felt his arm move around her back…as if he was afraid to lose contact with her.

"If my grandfather asks you to join him in the office for cigars, say no."

Brows furrowed in confusion, Logan looked down at Rory. "Cigars?"

"Yes. Actually, avoid his office entirely."

"No cigars, and I can't go into Richard's office. Any other rules I need to follow, Ace?"

"Nope," Rory said with a shake of her head. "Those two should be enough, but I get to add more to the list later."

"I'll give you five."

"Five?"

"That's generous and not negotiable, Ace."

"Mean."

The pair finished the short walk to the pool house. Finn had been busy preparing the sub-party. Many of the liquor bottles from the main house had found temporary storage in the pool house, since the catered bar had been needed for the main house. By the time Rory and Logan walked into the pool house a dozen or so people were scattered around the living room.

Logan removed his arm from around her shoulder, only to grab her hand and lead her over to where Finn was examining the drink cart with a fair amount of intensity.

"Finn?" Logan asked.

"It's so small, Logan," Finn answered the unasked question. "It's hardly a drink cart at all, really. The poor thing, all alone in its – tininess."

"Well, Finn it wasn't designed for you to use in your competition with John Barrymore's six-hundred-and-forty barrels of beer record. It was created to hold a small amount of liquor for families to consume in appropriate measures," Rory told Finn.

"John Barrymore is your measuring stick?" Logan asked.

"Logan, the man supposedly drank six-hundred-and-forty barrels of beer in his lifetime. I think it's a pretty good measure to use," Rory answered Logan, clearly exasperated.

"He's hardly the most infamous of the legendary drinkers."

"You say that as if there is a published list somewhere."

"Gents!" Finn announced. He smiled around the room as it grew silent. "I have our first drinking game. The lovely Miss Gilmore must be educated."

"First I'm being auctioned off by my grandparents and now Finn is going to 'educate' me? I must have sucked in my past lives," Rory grumbled.

"It won't be that bad, Ace. Have a little faith."

Rory rolled her eyes at Logan. If nothing else, it was guaranteed to be entertaining.

"Alright, you sorry sods here how this works," Finn began. "It is your task to name famous persons who are also famous for their drinking. If someone challenges your choice, you must drink unless the group votes your reasons for choosing the person acceptable. The lady holds veto power over all votes…she's our own president, and what she says go. If you argue with the lady, you drink. Clear?"

"See, Ace," Logan began, a broad smirk on his face, "he made you president."

"I always wanted to be Hillary Clinton when I grew up."

"Right then, who starts?"

"You," Colin told Finn. "This game was your idea, and as you're the one intent upon getting drunk tonight, might as well start us out."

"Very well," Finn answered. "With the lady's permission – "

Rory waved her hand in what she hoped was a "get on with it" sort of manner. The whole thing was absurd, but she kept fighting the smile that wanted to spread across her face. Leave it to her little trio of merry men to make her unbearably vile night miraculously better.

"John Barrymore," Finn announced proudly.

"No way, Finn," Rory told him. "You can't use John like this, it's cruel."

"Um, why can't Finn use him…the man's a legend, Gilmore," Colin asked.

"I already used him in a comparison, and the poor man can't continue to be used like that…it's…un-American."

"Name my poison, love," Finn told Rory.

With exaggerated movements, Rory walked around the small drink cart and carefully examined each bottle. She didn't know what any of them were, but she liked looking at the labels.

"That one," Rory said.

"Gin it is," Colin announced. He poured a fair amount into a tumbler and handed it over to Finn.

"Why gin?" Logan whispered in Rory's ear.

She didn't even feel him walk up behind her. Not that she particularly minded, but he seemed intent to not let her beyond arms reach for the entire evening. The shivers that went up her spine when his hot breath brushed against her neck were also not unwelcome.

"I thought the bottle was pretty," Rory answered.

Logan chuckled. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around Rory's waist and pull her flush against his chest. She looked incredible in the dress, but knew she must feel self-conscious about all of the jewels (probably Emily's doing) adorning her lovely figure.

"Okay, Colin," Finn announced once he'd downed his drink. "You're next."

"Dean Martin."

"No way, man," Logan argued. "Out of the Rat Pack, you can't just single out Dean Martin. He wasn't known for drinking while working, or during extreme hours when most of the civilized world sleeps."

"Colin?" Rory asked, wondering if he could argue against Logan.

"The man could appear sober after a night of drinking. His legend exists because he wasn't a teetotaler."

"Votes?" Rory asked. "If you think Dean Martin is acceptable, raise your hands."

Half the men in the room raised their hands.

"You've gotta break the tie, love," Finn told her with a wink.

Rory knew the boys were baiting her. She knew this was a set up, especially since Finn made her Madam President of the bizarrely academic drinking game.

"Sorry, Colin. It looks like you're the only one who knows about Dean Martin's legendary drinking. Perhaps, if you start a fan club?"

"I'll remember this, Gilmore," Colin mock-threatened. "Don't think I won't."

"And to think, Stephanie is missing all of this," Rory responded sweetly.

"Damn it, Gilmore."

Rory pointed to the amber liquid in the squat bottle with a square lid. Colin scrunched up his face in disgust, and she felt justified in her selection. Once Colin had completed his drink, he pointed at Rory.

"You're next."

"Andre the Giant."

Every pair of eyes stared at her. This wasn't exactly abnormal behavior for the evening, but she had thought the sub-party would put an end to the gawking.

"What?" Colin exclaimed.

"Who?" Finn asked as he scratched his head.

"Fezzik. The giant employed by Vizzini. He liked to make rhymes," Logan explained.

"You know The Princess Bride?" Rory asked, amazed.

"Quit acting so surprised, Ace. But, what makes him a famous drinker?"

"He could drink one-hundred and nineteen beers in six hours," Rory told the group.

Various sounds of amazement scattered through the group. Pleased by her selection, Rory smiled. Logan was right, though, she really needed to quit being surprised by him. The sooner she accepted he'd always do something to shock her, the sooner she would no longer be shocked. Right.

"Of course the man could imbibe inhuman amounts of alcohol. He was seven feet tall and weighted something near five-hundred pounds," Colin pointed out.

"Giants don't count, love," Finn agreed.

"I'm the president," Rory told the group. "I vote mine counts."

"I don't think the president can vote on her own nominee," Logan said. "I think some objectivity needs to be brought to this administration."

"Logan!" Rory screeched.

"Sorry, Ace. Would you want your constituents to think you were above the laws of our distinguished game?"

"Logan, it's a drinking game. Not exactly an issue of national security."

"It always starts with the small things," Colin said solemnly.

"Fine!" Rory gave in to the will of the group.

Logan filled a champagne flute and handed it to Rory. "Here."

Knowing there was no way out of it, Rory brought the glass to her lips. She liked the flavor as the drink slid down her throat. Apparently, once the president of the game drank, the game was over…at least, every dissipated back into their separate groups. She looked questioningly at Logan, but he simply shrugged his shoulders.

After he poured himself a drink and refilled Rory's champagne glass, he took her hand and led her over to the couch.

"My friends have a short attention span. The drinking games only make it through the early parts of the evening. After the first hour or so, it's simply drinks and Finn chasing after some random redhead."

"Good to know," Rory told him.

"Your article was good, Ace," Logan told her.

"You read my article?"

"Of course. You're one of the top reporters of the Yale Daily News. You have more articles above the fold than any other journalist on staff. Plus, I had to make sure you followed the rules."

"And?"

"I was impressed. You actually managed to describe the woods without using any 'e's'. There was a little too much detail in it for my comfort, but nothing that would ultimately be revealing."

"Gilmore," Colin said as he walked over to the couch. "The food in the pool house is severely lacking."

"What would you like me to do about that, Colin?" Rory asked.

"We need you to go and fetch more food, love," Finn implored.

"Why me?"

"You're the guest of honor, love. None of the suited help are going to deny you anything. You have the odds of success on your side."

"Fine," Rory caved. She pushed up from the couch, her hand using Logan's knee for leverage. "Sorry."

Logan simply shook his head. He'd felt electricity shoot up his leg at the brief contact. The words of her letter floated around in his head for the millionth time. Something needed to happen; he needed to do something. Even though she said she wasn't walking away, he could feel her slipping through his fingers. No matter what, he couldn't allow that to happen. He doubted she knew exactly how important she'd become to him in the past few weeks.

Rory walked outside and noticed that most of the party attendees had moved back into the main house. With no one out on the patio, she was surprised to see a shadow moving along the bush line. Thinking it was one of the workers, she ignored the presence. Until it spoke.

"Rory."

Hope you all enjoyed the first part of the pool scene! We're not quite through out there yet, so stay tuned. Share you thoughts!