AN: Heads up, this is a rated M chapter. I know it's been a while so hopefully this helps make up for it. As always, I love knowing what you think, so please leave me a review and let me know.
September 2005
"Yeah, thanks for the heads up Sam….You got it. Just send me an update on Monday. Uh huh. Alright, talk to you later." Mitchum hung up the phone just as a knock sounded on the door. He glanced down at his Rolex to see the time…6:10; only ten minutes late, that was practically early where his son was concerned. "Come in."
The ornate, cherrywood door of his office swung open soundlessly, revealing the downtrodden silhouette of his son. Logan never looked particularly happy walking through that door—for good reason; it's not like Mitchum had a habit of calling Logan into his office for happy pep talks, but Mitchum knew it was more than just the preconditioned look of a chastened kid preparing for bad news. His son had been in a mood ever since that Gilmore girl took off on him without a word.
When Honor had first announced that Logan was bringing his 'girlfriend' home for dinner, Shira and Pop had been beside themselves; obsessed with appearance, status, and outdated norms, they were convinced that Rory Gilmore would be nothing but a blight on their family and the company. But Mitchum had been indifferent; he couldn't care less about the floofy tea parties Shira planned or her long lost ability to charm his associates with a flirty smile and a low-cut dress. A "proper" wife was no longer essential in today's business world. And what Logan needed more than a pretty piece of arm candy was someone to motivate him. Perhaps an ambitious girl like Rory could be that for him.
So, he'd attempted to make amends…for his son's sake. The internship was an olive branch. And if it went well, maybe he could even use it to his advantage. By lifting Rory up, maybe her passion and accomplishment could serve as a positive influence on Logan. But it hadn't gone well. For all the talk he'd heard of Rory's great journalistic talents, she had failed to impress at every turn. It was ironic, considering that her obvious longing to impress him was what had impressed him the least. She was too diplomatic, too reserved, too much of a people pleaser. She actually would have been excellent in the role of trophy wife that Shira and Pop had so desperately wanted for Logan.
It turned out not to matter though. Maybe Rory had been using Logan for his connections. Or maybe she was just taking her anger at Mitchum out on his son. Either way, shortly after he'd given her her less than stellar performance review, she'd apparently broken up with him in a letter, dropped out of Yale, and disappeared.
Again, Mitchum had remained fairly indifferent. He didn't enjoy seeing his son hurt, but heartbreak was a part of life. And maybe it was the kick in the pants his son needed to realize that he couldn't just keep coasting by on his boyish good looks, charisma, and family money.
But it wasn't long before Mitchum realized things would not turn out the way he expected. He'd expected Logan to go through the usual stages of grief and come out the other end stronger. Any girl would be lucky to wind up with him, after all. Besides the obvious, superficial reasons, his son had a side to him he rarely let people see; he was smart, he was talented, he was loyal and passionate. He had so much potential, both personally and professionally. Sure, there were going to be some bumps in the road, that was expected…Hell, it was essential. That was the kind of thing that built character. But Rory Gilmore was turning out to be more than just a bump; she was a mountain. And Logan wasn't getting over her. He was getting better at pretending he had, but if anything, he was becoming more and more withdrawn from reality. A year ago, Mitchum had been worried his son would fritter away his promise on stupid stunts and drinking binges. Now he was worried he would fritter away his promise wallowing in a past that had spurned him. Well, not on his watch. Mitchum had had just about enough of this; it was time Logan got his head on straight and focused on his future.
"You wanted to see me?" Logan asked as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him and approaching the desk with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze trained on the floor.
"Sit," Mitchum instructed. Logan slumped into the leather club chair on the other side of the desk, arms crossed petulantly. Mitchum spun his chair around, pulling open one of the cabinet fronts on the built-in behind him and extracting a bottle of Macallan and two whiskey glasses. He set the glasses on the desk, pouring a couple fingers worth in each before sliding one over to his son. Logan looked from the glass to his father with a wary eye. These talks didn't usually involve liquor, but Mitchum thought it befitting the circumstances today. Sure, he planned on laying down the law and making his expectations perfectly clear, but he wasn't just dealing with a rebellious kid this time, he was dealing with his heartbroken son. "Drink." He nodded at the glass to give the go ahead. After another moment of contemplation, Logan picked it up and took a sip.
"How are your classes going?" Mitchum queried. Fall semester had started up a couple weeks ago.
Logan raised an eyebrow at the question. "Fine," came the monosyllabic reply.
Mitchum strained to keep from rolling his eyes. "I know I like to preach on economy of words, but perhaps you could be slightly less frugal, just this once."
Logan sat back in his seat, a smug grin taking over his face. "We watched Star Wars last week," he shrugged.
"Excuse me?" Please lord let this be some insane joke. He wasn't paying 50 grand a year in tuition alone so his son could watch some space cowboys blow up the Death Star.
"Star Wars. 'A New Hope' specifically. Also, Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?" Mitchum questioned. "Isn't that that kid's movie about a boy wizard?"
"Yep," Logan replied succinctly.
"What the fuck kind of class is this?"
"It's the kind that involves watching movies."
Mitchum felt his jaw clenching. "Jesus fucking Christ, please tell me drop/add isn't over yet."
"Ended two days ago." Logan gave a nonchalant shrug. Mitchum felt his blood pressure rising. This was worse for his health than drinking regular coffee.
"Logan…" he ground out irately.
Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's my Transmedia Storytelling class. We're reviewing the hero's journey and Campbell's archetypes."
Mitchum felt his jaw unclench. Thanks god he wasn't going to have to petition Yale to get his money back. "Do you enjoy giving me a heart attack?"
"I don't not enjoy it," Logan shrugged.
"This isn't funny, Logan. You're 23 years old. It's time to grow up. You can't keep crashing yachts and jumping off planes in gorilla masks and putting off real life forever. You need to get your act together and to do that, you need to start by graduating from fucking college. Otherwise, before you know it, you're going to be that creepy thirty-year-old still hanging out at frat houses. Is that what you want?"
Logan's sass faded away again, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "No," he mumbled.
"Good, because I'm not paying for another year of school. You graduate this spring or you don't graduate at all. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," he mumbled again.
"Good."
"Is that all?" he glanced up at Mitchum hopefully, hands moving to the arm rests of the chair and butt hovering just above the seat in preparation for his permission to high tail it out of there.
"No, that's not all. Sit your ass back down."
Logan scowled but did as he was told.
"Graduation is just the first step," Mitchum informed his son. "The first step to you taking over this company someday. This life you're living, it comes with responsibilities."
"I know," he muttered unhappily.
"There's a shareholder meeting in Manhattan in a couple weeks. I need you there. There are a couple other trips coming up too that I expect you to attend. People need to see your face around. I'll have Jamie send you the dates; make sure to make arrangements with your professors if it interferes with any of your exams."
Mitchum could see the shadow pass over his son's eyes. The graduation talk was hardly a surprise, his son was already in his fifth year, and that didn't include his year long sabbatical in the South Pacific. The fact that he was graduating this year was heretofore unstated, but clearly implied. But the shareholder's meetings were new. In fact, Mitchum had just decided on it recently. The truth was, Logan needed some structure in his life right now. He needed something to occupy his time and energy, otherwise Mitchum was afraid he'd find far less productive ways of keeping his mind off one Rory Gilmore. He didn't need his son getting anymore lost in this rabbit hole he'd been falling down all summer.
"What?"
"It's time, Logan," Mitchum replied sternly. "It's time you involved yourself in the family business. Not next year, not after graduation, now. This is happening whether you like it or not, so I suggest you find a way to like it."
"Fine," Logan ground out. He could see his son's jaw clenching, fighting back a torrent of angry words. That was fine with him, Logan may not want this now, but he'd thank him for it eventually. It was the next part of this conversation that had Mitchum worried. He tried to make it a habit not to interfere in his son's personal life, but if he wanted the boy on his A game, it was clear he was going to need to step in and do something about it. Keeping him distracted with work wasn't going to cut it. Besides, Shira was going to nag Mitchum to an early grave if he didn't agree to do something.
Mitchum eyed the still half full glass of Scotch in front of Logan. "You going to finish that?" he asked. Logan looked at him like he had two heads. "It's good Scotch, it'd be a shame to waste it."
Logan picked up the glass and swallowed the remaining liquid in a single gulp like he was doing shots of Wild Turkey at the bar. Mitchum tried not to have a heart attack; he wanted his son to drink it after all. It didn't so much matter how, just so long as the alcohol was inside of him.
"Good," he nodded. "Now go upstairs and find a decent suit to wear for dinner. We're having company."
"What?" Logan blinked at his father. He'd been called home for a family dinner, he clearly wasn't expecting company.
Mitchum shrugged, trying to maintain an heir on nonchalance. "Your mother invited the Fallons over."
"Oh fuck no," Logan stood up angrily, almost knocking over his chair in the process.
"Logan, calm down."
"No. You can tell me what classes to take and when to graduate. You can tell me when I need to be on a plane to bumfuck nowhere to schmooze with your precious board members. You can pretty much dictate the next 50 years of my professional life. But you don't get a say in my personal life."
"Oh relax. No one is arranging your marriage; it's dinner with family friends…who just so happen to have a pretty daughter your age. If you two hit it off, great. I hear she's an art history major, maybe…" Mitchum reached a hand up to scratch at his eyebrow. "Maybe she'd be interested in having you show her the Hopper in the pool house." He took a sip of his Scotch, while keeping his gaze set meaningfully on his son.
"Oh my god, are you seriously suggesting I screw your friend's daughter in our pool house? What am I a gigolo?"
"Please, cut the sanctimonious bullshit. It's not like she'd be the first one."
"You're disgusting, you know that? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Mitchum rolled his eyes. "It's what's wrong with you that I'm worried about. Sleep with her, don't sleep with her," he shrugged. "Go out to a bar and find some slutty sorority chick to fuck. Sign up for one of those newfangled online dating services and put an add out searching for your soul mate. I don't give a crap what you do as long as you stop mooning over that damn Gilmore girl. It's been months. She broke up with you. Get over it."
"She didn't break up with me," Logan raged.
"Oh right," Mitchum nodded. "It was mutual." This was the problem right here. It was fine to grieve the end of a relationship, but he was supposed to go through all the grieving stages. Instead, he was stuck indefinitely in denial. It wasn't a good place to be.
"She left because of you, you know," Logan spat at him, his arms waving around furiously. "Because of you and your goddamn internship. I told her not to take it. I knew you couldn't be trusted. And I was right. You manipulated her. You manipulated her to manipulate me. You don't care who you hurt. And now you think you can just bring me some girl like a fucking concubine and I'll screw her in the pool house at your behest? Fuck that, you've done more than enough to screw up my love life. Enjoy your dinner, I'm out of here." Logan turned and stormed from the room, slamming the heavy wooden door in his wake. Mitchum slumped in his seat, burying his face in his hands. That had gone just about as well as he'd expected it too. He should have known there wasn't enough premium Scotch in the world for that conversation.
November 2005
Nothing had ever felt this good; Rory was sure of it. In her 21 years of existence, this experience, right now, was the pinnacle of physical pleasure; she never wanted it to end.
She sunk a little lower. "Oh yeah, right there, that's the spot," she moaned. She felt her muscles contract and release at the pulsating sensation.
"Ace?"
She jumped at the sound of his voice—or what passed for jumping these days in her current gravid state—and the stream of water that was jettisoning so perfectly into the aching, knotted muscle group to the left of her lumbar spine, relocated to a still nice, but not nearly as satisfying spot higher up and to the right.
"Crap!"
"Not the reaction a man likes to hear in response to his presence, Ace," Logan joked.
"No, it's fine," Rory shook her head and glanced over her shoulder to look at him peaking his head through the bathroom door. "What's up?"
"I was just making sure you were still alive in here; you've been in that tub for close to an hour. You almost done?"
"No," Rory informed him as the bubbles tingled pleasantly over her skin and she attempted to reposition herself back into the ideal path of the jet. "I'm never going to be done. I'm going to live here from now on. They say water births are supposed to be good, right?"
"I'm not sure this is what they had in mind."
Rory sighed, letting her head fall below the surface of the water for a moment before resurfacing. "Just give me a few more minutes," she told him. Logan had rented this hotel room for them, the least she could do is spend time with him. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't have his own very effective ways of relieving her stress. She bit her lip at the thought; she couldn't deny that the sex had been out of this world. And that was in her tiny, little twin bed. She'd been so excited when she'd seen this enormous tub that she hadn't thought to appreciate what the giant King bed had to offer. Maybe it was time to get out after all.
"It's fine, take your time. Just wanted to make sure you hadn't drowned."
"I'm good. I just need a few minutes to jump in the shower and rinse the suds off."
"Well, if you need any help getting to those hard-to-reach places, I am more than happy to offer my services." Rory rolled her eyes and chuckled. While it was good to know he was on the same general page as her, she was quite sure shower sex was not in the cards right now; she was klutzy enough with a normal center of gravity.
"Down boy," she told him. "You'll get laid in the bed like a normal person."
"Well then, in that case I'm going to go back and wait in the bed." She heard the door click shut and she relaxed back into the bath again, taking a final moment to really appreciate the feel of the warm water caressing her skin and lightening the pressure of the increased weight on her frame. She pressed the button to turn off the jets and, using her toe, she flipped the drain open before heaving herself uncomfortably to standing.
She made her way over to the separate shower and turned it on, stepping into the spray and letting it wash over her. Grabbing the little bottle of shampoo and conditioner, she dumped some into her hand to lather into her hair. She was irrationally excited about the prospect of using something other than her usual dollar store brand; her hair was going to be so soft and shiny. When she'd finished with her hair, she dried off and grabbed the hotel bathrobe off the hook to wrap the velvety terrycloth material around her. Dear lord she could get used to this.
"Hey," she greeted as she made her way out of the bathroom. Logan, also clad in a hotel bathrobe, was seated cross-legged on the bed with his laptop open in front of him. He looked up from his spot with an unexpected amount of surprise, considering she'd told him she'd be right out, and quickly slammed the lid of his Dell Inspiron shut. Rory pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. What was on that computer? He looked like a teenage boy who'd just been caught by his mom looking at porn. "What's up?" she asked curiously, eyeing the device as he moved it off his lap and onto the bedside table, disconnecting the ethernet plug.
"All done?" he asked, evading her question.
"Yep," she popped her 'p' as she sat down on the bed and swung her legs up underneath her. "So…" she started, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees for support, "what were you doing on the computer?"
"What?" He paused, looking beyond shifty. "Oh that? Nothing," he waved a dismissive hand in the general direction of where he'd set the laptop, but kept his eyes trained on her.
"Logan, come on…" she beseeched. "You can tell me. I mean, after all, what secret could you possibly have that's bigger than the one that involves you being here with your pregnant ex with the secret identity…" she paused for a moment as a terrifying thought came over her. "Unless…"
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her with curiosity. "Unless what?"
"Unless…you're not…keeping my secret?" Could it be possible? Was he here to report back to her family on her or something? Her heart was galloping in her chest…that stilted gallop like those carnival horses that raced when you shot the water gun at them.
"Ace. What? No," he pushed himself up onto his knees to move closer to her but she felt her body instinctively pull away.
"Are you sure? Cause it sure would explain a lot." Like why a guy like him would keep coming around when there were a million better things (and women) he could be doing.
"Like what?" he asked, his face going suddenly cold at her implied accusation.
"Like why you would keep coming back here to…" she felt her face flush with awkwardness, "…be with me."
Logan blinked disbelievingly at her. "Are you seriously suggesting your family…what? Solicited me to lure you back home with sex?"
"Well, when you put it like that…" she harrumphed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
"It sounds as insane as it is?" he finished for her.
She wrapped her arms tighter around her, diverting her eyes away and shrugging her shoulders in reply.
"Ace," he sighed, scrubbing his face with exasperation. He sat back, swinging his leg around so he was sitting next to her and reaching up to cradle her face so she was looking at him. "I've told you a million times, I'm here because I want to be." He had. And she believed him…most of the time. But she still couldn't keep that nagging feeling deep down from resurfacing every once in a while; the one that said he must have some ulterior motive because otherwise this was too good to be true. "And I'm not in touch with your family. I haven't spoken to them in weeks, not since they got your letters. I haven't told them where you are and I'm not going to."
"I know," she admitted with a sigh, letting her eyes flutter closed. "I know you won't. I trust you. I just…"
"Hey, how about we just leave it at 'you trust me.'" She opened her eyes to see a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. She nodded her head in agreement.
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course," he assured her.
"What was on the computer?"
"Ace," he groaned, dropping his hand and rolling his eyes in frustration. "It's nothing."
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"It's just…" he sighed, his shoulders dropping in resignation. "…It's…it's a umm…it's a paper. For school," he finally informed her.
Rory's face scrunched up in confusion. A paper? For school? What was the big secret about that? "Why would you not just tell me that?" she asked.
"I don't know I…" he shrugged helplessly. "I don't want to bum you out." His voice went up at the end, conveying the hint of a question.
"Logan," she drew his name out in faux reproach. She hated that he felt like he couldn't talk about things like that in front of her. He was doing so much for her, the least she could do was let him talk about school. "That is ridiculous, I'm fine."
"Oh, really?" he gave her a pointed look.
"Okay, well, not fine," she admitted. "But better." He just continued to stare at her unconvinced.
"Really," she promised.
"You just about had a total nervous breakdown at the ridiculous notion that I might be a secret double agent working for you family. You change the topic every time something about your old life comes up…"
"That's different," she contested. "This is your life. You don't have to feel weird about this. You go to Yale. Your friends go to Yale. How can we not talk about Yale?"
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"Look, I'm sorry I questioned you; your motives for being here and that you were hiding something from me. I know my insecurities are frustrating. Do you forgive me?"
"Well," he contemplated, his head bobbing back and forth and his face serious. "I mean, I suppose you could find a way to make it up to me."
"Make it up to you?" Rory held back a chuckle as an excited giddiness bubbled up inside her chest. "You mean, like, with witty conversation?" she teased.
"Mmm…" he pursed his lips together and shook his head. "Conversation wasn't exactly what I had in mind," he informed her, leaning in for a kiss. His lips danced playfully over hers for a moment before pulling back just slightly.
"Oh no?"
"No." He shook his head as he pushed the robe from her shoulder and let his hand wander.
"Well then," Rory smiled into his kisses. "I suppose you better show me."
His lips dropped to the left side of her neck as his wandering hand moved to cup her right breast, letting his thumb flick over the nipple. She inhaled sharply at the tingly feeling that more than rivaled the sweet sensation of the bath bubbles she'd been reveling in not ten minutes ago. Her whole body buzzed with pleasure.
"How about we start by losing the robe," he suggested. The hand that wasn't fondling her boob moved to the belt which was tied just above her protruding stomach. His fingers fumbled slightly, taking their sweet time. She suddenly regretted the extra tug she'd given as she was tightening down the knot. It wasn't like she didn't know that Logan would sometimes have to touch her belly during sex, but it still made her uncomfortable, especially when it felt like his hands were lingering there. She was sure it was just her imagination, her own discomfort distorting time and amplifying the interaction in her mind, but still, sometimes it seemed like he was a little too interested in her baby bump. She moved her own hands to the belt to help move things along.
Once the robe was untied, Logan pushed it open, letting his right hand move up to play with the breast that had yet to be explored while she started in on the belt of his robe. She pushed it off his shoulders, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. "Lay down," he whispered, his lips brushing over the skin of her décolletage as he spoke. She took a moment to delight in the feel of his hands and lips before turning away to grab a couple of pillows to make herself comfortable while he continued to rain kisses down on whatever part of her his mouth could reach. Shifting onto her hip, she placed one pillow between her knees and laid the other down beside her to support her stomach. She laid down on her side facing away from him and as she settled in, she felt his hand brush softly down her back in one long stroke.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Yeah." At least as comfortable as she was capable of getting these days.
"Good." She could sense him removing his boxers and then he laid down to spoon her. She could feel his hardness pressing into her behind as his tongue lapped against the skin of her shoulder and neck. His hand caressed along the dip of her waist—or what was left of it—and up over her rounded hip, guiding her pelvis back into him. His hand slipped around, once again brushing over her baby bump and causing her to tense, but then his fingers moved lower, pushing their way between her legs to feel for the wet heat of her arousal and any insecurities she had were immediately banished.
"Fuck, Logan," she hissed as he continued to stroke her, her hips thrusting into his hand. His fingers found her clit, pressing into it to massage firmly as the moistness started to pool; it didn't take much these days. "God, yes. Please." She could feel his erection pressing into her from behind, so close to her entrance. She wanted him inside of her.
"That's right, baby," he whispered as his fingers continued to work their magic. She felt him nip at the skin along her spine, then his tongue darted out to sooth the sting. "Come for me."
"I need you inside of me," she begged.
He plunged a finger inside of her and she gasped. "Not what I meant," she breathed out.
"Is that so?" he chuckled with ruthless delight. "You want me to stop?"
Not anymore. She was too close, stopping would be torture. "No," the word came out as a strangled sob. As soon as the word left her mouth she felt him dip a second finger inside thrusting in and out in until, before long, her muscles clenched in sweet agony and she screamed out her climax. The world started to come back into focus as Logan removed his finger from inside of her and she fought to catch her breath.
He started to roll away, presumably to go get a condom but he stopped suddenly. "Ace?" His voice, so full of cocky vibrato just a few moments ago, sounded uncharacteristically shaky and unsure. Rory tried to look over her shoulder at him but she couldn't see. She went to sit up but he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "No, stay, I just…I just wanted to say…I'm uh…I'm clean."
"Umm, okay?" She was confused. Logan was pretty much always impeccably groomed, that wasn't exactly news.
"I was tested. And umm…I haven't been with anyone else since, so…"
"Oh." That kind of clean. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to take that. Was he trying to say he wasn't sleeping with anyone else? But they were just doing the no strings thing again. There was no reason for him to not sleep with other girls. And there was certainly no reason for him to tell her about it. Unless…The thought filled her with a sudden sense of dread; her chest clenching apprehensively, her palms going clammy. Every muscle in her body was tense with panic. He couldn't possibly be saying…no, that was ridiculous, there was no way.
"So I'm just saying…" he hedged nervously again. "I'm clean. You can't get more pregnant. So, you know…I don't have to…wear a condom…If you were good with that."
Her panic abated slightly, her jaw unclenching. See…there was a perfectly good explanation. Logan was completely obsessive about protection. It was the whole reason she knew he wasn't this baby's father. So, she was absolutely certain, for as experienced as he was, that he had never had sex without a condom. This was probably his only chance to even flirt with the idea of going bareback. That's all this was; an opportunity. It wasn't some weird, inappropriately timed declaration of…she didn't even want to think about 'of what.'
"Right…umm, I guess that would be alright." She felt her weight drop back fully into the mattress.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "You don't have to say yes if you're not comfortable with it."
"No," she assured him. She trusted him. That's what she'd told him. And she did. Trust didn't come easy to her these days; not after the way so many people she thought she could trust had disappointed her. But not Logan. He was the only one who stuck by her. And considering he was the one person who had every reason to walk away, he'd more than earned her trust. He wouldn't do anything to hurt her. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. "I'm good. You don't have to wear one."
He was quiet for a moment and she could feel his eyes studying her. "Alright then," he must have decided she was telling him the truth. His hand fell to her hip and gave it a little squeeze. "In that case, where were we?"