Obligatory Disclaimer: I own zilch. The title is from a Matt Nathanson song. The characters... A S-P.

This is my first story. You don't have to be kind if you don't like it; it won't bother me. I know it starts slow, but I promise there are more exciting things to come. I haven't decided on how the pairing will end up, but there's a triangle between Rory, Logan, and Finn, and a lot of the major events on the show are included in some way, although possibly out of order because it works better for me. It starts post- "But Not As Cute As Pushkin".

Chapter One

Monday morning came too soon for Rory. She had spent the entire weekend sleeping and watching TV because she suspected she was coming down with a cold. She didn't even touch her books, which she instantly regretted when her alarm went off.

She sprang out of bed with the realization that she had a quiz she hadn't prepared for. If she skipped a much needed shower and her usual primping, she could go to the library and skim through the reading selection before her class, so she brushed her teeth, put on jeans and the only clean sweatshirt in her closet which happened to be one of Lorelai's and said "Kiss Me Quick" in an arc across the chest, and slung her bag over her shoulder. On her way out the door, she shoved the paperback reader in her mouth to pull her hair back into a ponytail.

She wiped off her book as she walked, wondering suddenly where else it could have been since it was a used text. She had planned to skip coffee since she couldn't take it into the library, but the combination of having put unknown germs into her mouth and the proximity of the first cart she saw made her change her mind.

"Large coffee," she told the guy urgently. She fumbled in her bag for some change. Finding mostly dimes and nickels, she apologized when she traded them for her coffee. With her book in one hand and her drink in the other, she turned to leave and nearly ran into Logan. She jumped back, bumping into the coffee cart and knocking her bag off of her shoulder.

"Sorry," she said again to the guy, then stepped to the side and tried to shrug her bag back onto her shoulder since both hands were full, all the while avoiding Logan's amused gaze.

"Morning, Ace," he said cheerily. He grabbed her bag and removed it from her completely, slinging it easily over his own shoulder. "Nice shirt," he remarked, and then he began to walk, so she had to follow.

"Logan, I need that," she said when she joined his side.

"You'll get it back. Don't worry."

"I can't do this right now," she said in exasperation. "I have to study. I have a quiz."

"Where were you planning to study?"

"I don't know. I can't go in the library," she began, raising the coffee cup in explanation, "so I guess I'll just find a bench somewhere. Please, Logan, stop. I really don't have-."

"How about here?" Logan interrupted, setting down her bag on a cement bench just to the right of the sidewalk.

She stared at him for a moment and then said, "Fine."

"Alright," Logan replied, his usual grin in place. He stopped and watched her as she stared back at him in confusion.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, gesturing from the coffee cart back to the bench.

"Seeing as how we're engaged and all, I was curious to see what I'd be waking up to every morning. You know, you're a little clumsy. And crabby, too."

"Well, I wasn't aware that I was being observed today. Why did you take my bag?"

Logan smiled. "Because you wouldn't have asked for help, and that coffee guy was sick of dealing with you. I did you both a favor. Plus, I got the pleasure of your company for a few moments, and that's always a real treat."

"You're being sarcastic," Rory noted, crossing her arms over her chest.

He ignored this comment and added, "You know, you had me going for a minute with Richard's whole engagement congrats the other day. Touche, Ace." He walked back a few steps, indicating that he was leaving her to study alone. "Chin up," he added. Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

"Mom," Rory said unenthusiastically into the phone late that night.

"What? I'm sorry, that was pathetic. I won't answer to that," Lorelai teased.

"Mom," her daughter whined.

"Seriously?" she asked. "That was worse."

"Mother!" Rory exclaimed.

"Whoa there. Now that's just downright mean. Why are you crabby?"

"My life sucks," Rory answered with the pout evident in her voice.

"Aw, and you thought to call me? Thanks, babe," Lorelai joked.

"Don't be cute. You're partially to blame. I was wearing your stupid sweatshirt, and I suspect that it had some kind of curse on it that ruined my whole day."

"My, I've got powerful clothes," Lorelai remarked, smiling at Rory's embellishment. "So, what exactly happened that made your day so dreadful?"

Rory sighed and switched the phone to her other ear. She settled into the couch in the common room, where she'd been making herself comfortable quite often in the past couple days. She explained that Marty had avoided her like the plague and not returned any of her phone calls since she'd taken the cab home last week, which led to Logan's confusing behavior and her encounter with him that morning with the coffee, which led to the quiz she'd failed, which then led to the explanation for her lack of studying, i.e. her cold. To top it all off, she now had to worry about Paris' openly sexual relationship with Doyle, which she preferred not to know anything about but, nonetheless, did because Paris wanted to analyze all of her new feelings of sleeping with a younger man (in the sense that he wasn't old enough to be her grandfather like Asher) every chance she got. The only way Rory had been able to get out of those conversations was with her cold symptoms.

"Aw, babe, I'm sorry you had a rough day. What can I do to help?"

Rory sighed. "Nothing. I just needed to vent. Although..."

"What?"

"Well," Rory started, "I just wish I could read Logan."

"I can. He likes you."

"He messes with me half the time, and the rest of the time he ignores me. Well, make those thirds because when he's not messing with me or ignoring me, he's acting nice. I don't trust his whole nice routine. It makes me want to wipe that smirk right off his face."

"He likes you, kid," Lorelai repeated.

"But how do you figure that?"

"All signs point to he likes you."

"I haven't gotten a single clear sign since I met him," Rory protested. "It doesn't add up."

"It doesn't have to. That's not how the whole liking you thing goes," Lorelai replied with a shrug, like this was obvious.

"I just don't see it."

"Hey, didn't you already have this conversation with Marty? Maybe you could call him up and give me a break. I feel like a broken record."

"Sorry," Rory sighed in defeat, laying her head on the armrest of the couch. "I just feel weird when I'm around him. I'm never prepared to talk to him because I never know when he's going to show up. And then he has this whole entourage of people with him. I'm this idiot who drops things and can't talk right, and I just wish I was on the same page. I hate that he's always so smooth and just swoops in and out again so easily."

"So take the ball back to your court. Call him up."

"And say what?"

"I don't know. 'Heard any good jokes lately?'"

"You're no help."

"Tell him about the time you got hit by a deer," Lorelai suggested with a laugh.

"I'm hanging up now."

"Alright. Fine. Just invite him to get coffee or something. See how he reacts. And since you're calling him, he won't have any smooth lines worked out ahead of time. If he pays or treats you like a date, maybe he's interested in you. If he doesn't act like it's a date... well, then you've gotten nowhere because he could just be oblivious to what you're doing. You don't make it very easy on a guy since you never really grasped the whole flirting thing."

"Hey," Rory objected.

"What? You don't agree?" Lorelai laughed. "I mean, I've tried to pass it down to you, but you just never took to it."

"Fine. I'm challenged in that particular area," she admitted reluctantly. "So, if he acts like it's a date, what do I do?"

"Go with the flow. Just see what happens."

"That's all? Go with the flow, Mom?"

"Yes, that's it. Now, go call him so Mommy can go to Luke's."

"It's eleven. Luke's is closed."

"The downstairs is, but the upstairs is open and ready for business."

"Ew. And, on that note, bye."

"Bye, hon'."

After staring at her cell phone for at least ten minutes, Rory finally gathered the courage to pick it up and push call. She had already scrolled through and highlighted Logan's number. It rang and rang and rang, and then his voicemail picked up. In a panic, she snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the table as if it had burned her. She hadn't planned for his voicemail to pick up. Messages had to be carefully thought out. There was no one to stop her when she started to ramble if she left a message. She couldn't gauge his reaction to decide how to proceed. She had to sound cute and prepared and not completely freaked out, but she could not be cute, she was not prepared, and she was completely freaked out. She bit her lip and contemplated calling again, but she had lost all the courage she had finally managed to build up.

Suddenly, her phone came to life. Someone was calling. She jumped off of the couch. Glancing around the room, looking for help, she stood in a panic. It was him. She was totally out of control of the situation now. But she couldn't just not answer. It hadn't even been a full minute since she'd called him.

With an unsure hand, she reached for her phone and closed her eyes as she answered it shyly.

"Hey, you called me?" Logan's voice greeted her after her lame hello.

"Oh, did I? Hmm," she replied, searching her surroundings. What on earth was she going to find in an empty room to get her out of this situation? Her mother could have handled this. Her mother would have seen some knick knack on the coffee table and made up some distracting tale that involved calling him for some legitimate reason that made her seem mysterious, and not in the weird way that Rory guessed he was thinking of her at the moment.

"Didn't you?" He paused for a moment, she assumed to check his phone to verify the number in his call log. He came back sure of himself. "Yeah, it was you. Did you need something?"

"No, I'm perfect...perfectly fine, I mean. I'm not perfect. I'm...well, I'm not bad. I'm doing well."

Logan laughed, and she could hear his smile in it. "Well, thanks for the update. I was actually getting concerned about you."

"You were?"

"You seemed less than well yesterday morning, stumbling into things and all. Very unstable. Good to hear that's all cleared up."

"Oh. Right." Her face burned. Unstable? That's what he thought of her?

"So," he continued, "I haven't seen you in awhile, aside from this morning anyway. I meant to ask you something when I saw you at the coffee stand, but you distracted me by trying to take out the whole thing, that kid behind the cart included, and then it slipped my mind until you called and hung up a minute ago."

Rory opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it, knowing that nothing coming out of her mouth right at that moment would actually improve the situation.

"You've got an evening class tomorrow, right?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in surprise. She cleared her throat and said that was right.

"Okay, so, I've got to go to this awards dinner for my father at 6pm, and it's not too far from campus. I thought I might swing by, eat a few of those bite-sized quiches, swipe a bottle or two of champagne, and sneak out of there before my father ushers me around to all his colleagues and prefaces my introduction with his open disapproval of everything I do, and then I could be back here by 8 to crash the poker game that will have been going on in my suite without me."

Rory was confused. He was talking very quickly, but she was nearly sure he hadn't mentioned how she fit into his plans.

"Oh," she stated. "Well, that sounds ambitious."

"So, that should give you plenty of time to eat a real dinner since there won't be much solid food at my place, unless jell-o shots can be considered solid food, and to get some hardcore studying in since I know that's how you usually roll with Wednesday evenings, and then you could make an appearance over here at the poker game and help me put the champagne to good use. What do ya say?"

A slow smile spread across her face. He wanted to see her. He wanted to have her there at his place. She forgot her coffee plan altogether.

"Okay."

"Okay? You'll be all done with the books by then?"

"I don't only study, Logan," she said, feeling embarrassed that he knew how obsessive she was about school. "I'll be ready to go by the time you eat your last bite-sized quiche."

"Good. I'll expect to see you first thing when I get to my dorm. I'll warn you, though, I may not have both bottles left by the time I get there. These dinners tend to require an immediate pick-me-up, and I'd hate to see you before I've put my father behind me for the night."

"Fair enough," she said with a smile.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow, Ace. Oh, and I don't want to see you with your nose in a book. Finn should be entertainment enough, and I'll be expecting to have you by my side for luck."

That was it. Suddenly, she was happy, smiling and all. Even Paris' unwanted sex confessions couldn't have brought her down at the moment. She decided to let some light back into the room by opening the curtains, and she sat down at her desk with determination to get back on track after wasting the past few days not studying.

At 8:15, Rory was met at Logan's door by Finn, who was in the process of downing the remains of a bottle of Guiness. She waited for him to invite her in, but he just stepped backwards with the bottle still tilted back and then crossed the room to retake his seat at the poker table with six other guys. The noise that poured out of the room was a combination of music and voices, and it was evident to Rory that their party was already going full-swing. She stepped inside nervously, scanning the room for Logan, but she didn't see him. No one seemed to notice that she was standing there, and she glanced back into the hallway, considering leaving and waiting outside for Logan to get there.

"Hey, Love, if you're staying, ya mind getting that door?" Finn called over his shoulder, his Australian accent thicker with alcohol.

Rory nodded and turned to close it just as Logan appeared in its frame.

"Hey, Ace. Mind if I come inside?" he teased her, stopping the door with his foot. He was carrying three bottles of champagne while attempting to loosen his tie at the same time. Rory stepped back and closed the door once he was inside.

"I just got here," she explained awkwardly as he moved quickly, setting two of the bottles down in the middle of the poker table and greeting his friends with handshakes. "Finn let me in."

She stood back from the chaos as they all responded to his gift and his arrival with glee. Like children, she thought, except that they didn't lose their sophisticated air. She was the only girl there. She suddenly wondered if this was some kind of joke. Why was she the only girl there? Didn't they all have a hundred girls each on speed dial? And he wasn't exactly paying attention to her. Did he really invite her at all? Maybe she had misheard him somehow.

Logan made it all the way around the table, and he returned to Rory just as Finn won the hand they were playing, and then the entire table erupted with complaints and hollers. Logan said something to her as he gestured with the remaining bottle and grabbed two glasses from a shelf that showcased their alcohol and various shot, martini, and wine glasses. She couldn't hear him over the noise.

"What?" she yelled, leaning towards him.

He jerked his head, motioning for her to follow him into another room. She could tell instantly that it was his. It was neat and simple. The closet door was closed, the bed was made, and his belongings were put away. He set the champagne and glasses on his desk and told her to make herself comfortable as he moved to the other side of the room. He pulled his tie off and hung it on a hook inside the closet, which was also impeccably tidy. He had his back to her, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, then stood up and smoothed the covers back over. She tucked her hair behind her ears and moved over to sit at his desk.

Logan pushed some shirts to the side of the rack and pulled out a light-weight, long-sleeved black shirt. He turned and set it on the bed, shooting a quick smile at her when he saw her sitting upright at his desk. She quickly busied herself by running her fingers along some books he had on the desk shelf. They were mostly textbooks and references.

"You agreed no books tonight," he reminded her with an amused smile.

She looked back at him and blushed. He was unbuttoning his brilliant blue Oxford and tugging it out of his black trousers.

"Darn, the dictionary is such a page-turner," she replied sarcastically but quietly. She averted her eyes, taking in everything else in the room.

"You could pop open that bottle there if you're really that uncomfortable," he commented with an amused grin.

He pulled the shirt off and hung it on the hanger that the black shirt came off of. He still had on a white t-shirt, but that was the closest glimpse Rory had gotten of his chest. The shirt was thin and fit him snugly. She decided that he typically wore too much clothing on a daily basis. She figured it was probably a result of the society he had grown up in. All those money types were always so covered up.

She stood and looked at the bottle, unsure of how to go about opening it. She had always seen movies and shows where people popped open the bottle of whatever and it sprayed out of the opening or the cork flew across the room. She was already so jumpy as it was, if the cork flew out, she thought she might have a mild heart attack.

Logan tugged the black shirt over his head and watched her as he pulled the hem down. She was holding the bottle with both hands, not even attempting to open it. He laughed and moved to her, circling his arms around her from behind. He held the neck of the bottle just above her own hands and then swiftly popped the cork out without so much as an overflow of the champagne. Was it something else that always reacted like a tiny explosion in those movies? He was setting the bottle down on the desk, and she quickly removed her hands. She held her breath as his body, behind her, almost touching her, caused a shiver to run to her toes. But he easily slid away and reached for the glasses. She stepped out of his way, and he poured the cool liquid into each one, letting it bubble up to the top and settle back down before he filled them higher.

"What shall we toast to?" he asked, handing her one glass and lifting the other for himself.

She shrugged. "Well, you got out of the party early. Now it's smooth sailing, right?"

"Smooth sailing," he agreed, touching his glass to hers. "That's right, and I intend to forget the last two hours of my life. Think you can keep up, Ace?"

She blushed. She was sure she couldn't. She had consumed less alcohol in her life than what filled that champagne bottle, but she nodded and took a sip of the bubbly liquid, liking its sweet taste. He took a much larger gulp and grinned at her comparative progress. Shaking his head in amusement, he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her small frame.

"The night is young. Let's go play some poker."

He could have suggested robbing a bank, and she would have been right there with him. His scent filled her senses to the point that she already felt intoxicated. Maybe the bubbles were already going to her head, but there was also something exciting about having him so near her. She was glad he had his arm around her because she was sure her legs would be too unsteady without having him to lean against.

Rory soon discovered that she could knock back quite a few drinks when she was bored. She did not understand poker enough to actually play, and watching others play could not hold her attention. It probably didn't help that her vision had a fuzzy aspect to it or that things seemed to be moving as if the room was bobbing in the ocean. All the cards looked the same, divided only by black and red, and every time someone won a hand, there was too much commotion on the table for her to even try to understand which sequence of cards had the most value. She was thoroughly amused by Finn's slurred Australian accent, however, especially when his language became spotted with his random exclamations. It didn't matter if he was winning or losing; his native expressions came out either way.

"Hey, Finn! Finn!" Rory was giggling when he threw his cards down in a fit. "Hey, say, 'bloody hell!' again," she requested, badly mimicking his accent.

"This is a battle, a hard-fought one at that, and I shall prevail," Finn remarked sternly. "Gilmore here thinks it's all a bloody game, but I will not be overtaken. I just need a little help from my dear friend..." He picked up an empty bottle of Jose Cuervo and set it back down with a thud. Then he grabbed another and finished, "Ah, good ol' Jack."

"It's going to take more than a few shots of whiskey to win back your losses here," Logan replied, patting Finn's shoulder before sweeping the chips in the middle of the table toward his stack.

"The whiskey is so he doesn't care that he's handing out his money like candy," Colin explained to Rory with authority. This was what always happened when they played poker. Finn got too drunk to play, and the others took advantage of it until he bowed out. Then they played each other until they were all back to square one and someone had most of Finn's losses to take home.

"Oh! Finn, say 'G'day, mate,'" Rory said, reaching for the last of the champagne. The others had been drinking beer or taking shots, so she'd unknowingly almost two full bottles of champagne on her own.

Logan took the bottle from her. With a charming smile, he set it out of her reach and offered to get her some water instead. Too oblivious to see through this move, Rory accepted and followed him to the mini-fridge to get it, but before she got to their destination, she stumbled against Logan, and he caught her quickly.

"Whoa, Ace," he said, surprised. She erupted with laughter, and he had to support her whole body so she wouldn't sit down on the floor. He leaned forward to open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then helped her to the couch. "Here, take it easy." She was hysterical. She flopped back against the cushions and let her head rest heavily.

"Finn!" she exclaimed, flinging her arm back over the couch towards the poker table. He couldn't see her, and he whirled around with a worried expression on his face.

"Hey, where'd you run off to, Love?" he called.

She found this even more hilarious and turned to pull herself up and look over the back of the couch at him. "I'm right here," she announced.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," he replied dramatically. "Logan, why'd you drag her away from us, mate?"

Logan shook his head and chuckled. He twisted the cap off of the water bottle and tried to help Rory drink from it, but she was now on her knees, leaning over the couch like it was a barricade keeping her from the group.

"Finny! What's Australian for beer?" she howled with laughter.

"Rory," Logan said, trying to get her attention. "Hey, come on. Drink this."

"Oh, I've had way too much to drink," she informed him, suddenly very serious, and pushed his hand away.

"I know, Ace. Drink some water."

She grabbed it with both hands and took a small sip, then she whispered loudly, "I'm still drunk."

He laughed at her childish behavior. "Yeah, I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that. The water will ease the hangover you're going to have tomorrow. Drink up."

She sat the right way and adopted a serious expression. She promised to stay put until she drank all the water. He watched for a moment and then returned to the table.

When he rejoined the group, Finn pushed himself back from the table and stood up. Clearing his throat, he made the announcement they all knew was coming. "Well, lads, I'm afraid the damage has been done. I must gracefully bow out now before my dignity is lost."

"Too late for that," one of the guys commented.

Finn bowed low from the waist, straightened his collar, and spun around to leave. He sauntered over to join Rory on the couch. He made himself comfortable close to her with his arm draped behind her over the top of the couch. She seemed more subdued now. He watched her take small sips of water like a child afraid to spill.

"Well, Gilmore, I think you've probably outdone yourself tonight. And who would have guessed you'd ever take to the bottle on a school night?"

Rory wasn't listening. The room was moving faster now, and she felt like she couldn't swallow. Her face was starting to tingle, and she recognized the sensation to be the precursor to something she refused to experience in Logan's dorm.

On shaky legs, Rory made her way towards the poker table.

"I need to go," she whispered to Logan, immediately turning to head outside.

"What? Ace, wait. You're drunk. Where are you going?" Logan replied, getting up to follow. "Oh," he said when he saw the color drain from her face. "Maybe the bathroom would be a good destination instead, huh?" He escorted her quickly to the bathroom and as soon as she made it to the toilet, she pleaded, "Don't stay."

He nodded and backed away, pulling the door almost closed. He paused for a moment on the other side long enough to hear the beginning of what would be a long night for Rory. Part of him wanted to go in and hold her hair or something, but the look on her face when she told him to go said enough. She didn't want him to see her like that. He felt a little guilty, though. He should have stopped her awhile ago. He knew she rarely drank, so he should have figured she couldn't hold that much down. He cringed when he considered that she had classes in the morning. Personally, he never understood why anyone would schedule a single class before noon, but he knew she was a firm believer on the old adage, "The early bird catches the worm."

"The reporter couldn't keep up," Finn mused, joining Logan outside the bathroom.

Logan shook his head, concern for her still on his features. "Hey, listen, would you mind checking on her? She doesn't want me in there, but I think she might not mind having someone to hold her hair back for her."

"We're doing something wrong when the only female is on the bathroom floor and not in either of our beds," Finn told him with a grave face.

"You'll just hold her hair?" Logan asked with a hint of warning.

"Well, I don't plan to kiss her if that's what you're asking," he answered with a wink.

"She's very...innocent," Logan reminded him before he left.

"Well, well, well, Love," Finn said when he opened the door. She was on her knees hugging the toilet. She was too ashamed to look up, but she was relieved to hear Finn's voice instead of Logan's. There was a decent chance of him not remembering this later since he was by far the most intoxicated after her. Plus, he only remembered who she was every other time he saw her. The only benefit to being this drunk was that she was so numb and loopy, she didn't mind throwing up nearly as much as when she was sober.

Finn made himself comfortable perched on the counter over her.

"Will you be needing any hair-holding assistance, Love?" he asked nonchalantly.

Rory shook her head and heaved again. And then, she sobbed. Her shoulders shook, and she began to cry into the toilet, too miserable to care that her nose was dripping and her makeup was running down over her cheeks. This was not at all how her evening was supposed to have gone. She was supposed to be with Logan, impressing him and winning him over, and instead she was sitting on his bathroom floor with his friend watching her puke her guts out.

"They say you're never really drunk until you start crying," Finn commented. She glanced up at him and sniffed, and he offered a sympathetic look. Then, he reached down and gathered up her long hair with one hand and held it.

So, there's the first chapter! I'm not sure how long the next ones will be because I've written lots of parts, but I haven't put them all together yet. I hope to give you all fairly long chapters. We'll see how this whole first-time story thing goes first...