Summary: I was wondering what Logan did after the practical joke Rory pulled. Read to find out my interpretation.

Disclaimer: My shrink has delicately informed me that I own nothing.

Puppet Master

Logan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He would never have given Rory Gilmore that much credit if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. To recruit her grandfather as well as his father…that was devious beyond what he'd given her credit for.

He thought back to the conversation he'd had with his father just minutes before.

He was surprised because his father rarely kept in contact with him, save making sure his credit card bills were paid for.

"I hear congratulations are in order, son," his father had said.

"What?!" Logan had spluttered.

"Your engagement to Rory Gilmore." He paused. "I trust Richard did get in touch with you. Your mother told me he was heading your way."

The memory of Richard Gilmore accosting him in front of Colin and Finn was still fresh and, surprisingly, quite embarrassing.

"Yes. He did get in touch with me." Logan's voice was stiffly formal.

"Well, then, you should have known why I was calling."

"I, um…I thought it was a joke." Logan admitted sheepishly.

"Good heavens, no," his father had cried. "We have made arrangements. The Gilmore's get our villa in France and you get Rory. Well, of course there are more specifics than that, but that's the jist of it. We were thinking a Christmas wedding. How does that sound to you?"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Logan's composure had begun to slip.

"No, of course not. Winter is a perfect time for a wedding."

"No. You've got to be kidding me about this entire thing. Even I had no idea that we were actually this backward. Arranged marriages? Dowries? I am perfectly capable of living my life by myself. I date who I want, I will marry who I want. If you have to disown me, do it, but I will not marry Rory Gilmore. I will make my own decisions. I can't believe you would go behind my back and engage me to some girl who I barely even know!"

Gently, his father broke in. "You know her well enough to take her to a Life and Death Brigade event."

"Yes, well-"

The sound of his father's laughter cut off his reply. "You really are gullible."


"Richard told me, but I didn't believe it."

Logan had regained some control. "I'm a little confused."

"Well, Rory called her grandfather and explained the situation."


"The practical joke you played on Rory."


"She asked him to…well, you know what he did. Additionally, he called me and told me the entire thing. We - Richard, Rory and I - decided a double dose of practical jokes would be fun, so we decided I would call and seemingly verify the entire thing. It was quite amusing…I'll be sure to send them a copy of the conversation."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, yes. It was part of our agreement." The laughter in his voice infuriated Logan even more and so Logan had slammed down the phone.

But now…what to do about Rory? He couldn't let it go there, even though he knew she had only meant it as retaliation for the prank he had pulled. But, in his mind, Logan saw it as a challenge, a declaration of war.

How to get back at her? How could he prove that he was the puppet master?

The next day, Rory got her mail, eagerly awaiting the CD of Mitchum's conversation with Logan. She found an envelope that was slightly larger than the rest and opened it. The CD was inside and she quickly slipped it into her CD player.

After listening to it, and having another good laugh at Logan's expense, she sat back in her chair to go through the rest of her mail.

A peculiarly shaped envelope caught her attention. When she flipped it over, it bore the word Ace and nothing else. Her breath caught in her throat as she opened it. The note she pulled out said

Good one.
Rory – 1
Logan – 0
See you later.
Watch your back.
Your loving 'fiancé'

She chuckled, and as she did so, she felt something fall out of the envelope, and a moment later, a clank of something small hitting the floor. She looked down and picked up a small, silver ring adorned with what she hoped was a cubic zirconium gem. As she turned it over and over in her hand, an inscription caught her eye.

The game's afoot.

AN: I couldn't let "But not as cute as a pushkin" end where it did, so I went ahead and wrote a little something about the aftermath. Let me know if I should let it be a stand alone, or if I should continue. But be warned, if you want me to continue, I'm going to need help coming up with ideas for practical jokes.