Yes, once again another one-shot. I know I should be updating Kissmet but halfway through the next chapter I was hit with a sudden streak of writers block. I have about half of it done but I don't know exactly where I want it to go. What I had originally planned out doesn't quite work the way I thought it would so I had to do some rethinking. I was getting frustrated and everything I wrote didn't seem to work so I decided that taking a small break and focusing on something else would be the best thing to do. And here's what came of that.
It starts in the future and sort-of goes back in time. So, that should ease any confusion. It also stemmed from a small part of my other one-shot. It has nothing to do with my other one-shot so you don't have to read it to understand. It just inspired me, kind-of. It's kinda cheesy but I like cheesy things! They make me smile! Hopefully it will make you smile too! Please review with your thoughts!
Summary: Logan muses over the birth of his first-born son. Future-Fic. Rogan of course!
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls, sadly.
Much Wanted Son of My Right Pinky Finger
Connor Huntzberger stood in front of his mirror trying, in vain, to adjust the temperamental tie around his neck. For the past ten minutes he had been standing here fixing his tie, only to have it move, once again, back into its crooked state. Finally too frustrated to adjust it one more time, he yanked the tie off of his neck completely and threw it on the ground, damning the silky material to hell.
"Need a hand?" and amused voice asked from behind him. Connor turned around to see his father leaning against the doorway, smirking. He smiled in greeting and sighed.
"I can't get this fu-uh-unny tie to tie. It was just hanging there, mocking me with its crookedness." He said. Logan walked over to his son, picking the tie up from the ground on his way.
"Yes, funny ties do like to mock." He said. "Fucking ties, well, they just like to be a pain in the ass." Connor looked at his father in shock due to the fact that he even knew what those words meant, let alone actually used them. Logan laughed at his reaction and threw the tie around his son's neck. "Connor, come on, you're eighteen years old. You can vote, buy cigarettes, download porn off the internet-well, legally anyway. I think it's about time you learned my true nature."
"Should I be scared?"
"Quite possibly." Logan said with a smile. "Man I haven't done this in a looong time." He said looping the tie into a knot. "Since your first year of junior high when your mother decided since you were going to be wearing a tie everyday you needed to learn to do it yourself."
"You remember the last time you tied my tie?" Connor asked indignantly.
'I remember a lot of things, kid. I also remember that on that very same day, I came home and you told me you were in love." Logan gushed.
"I did not!"
"Yes, you did!"
"You lie. I have absolutely no memory of this…" Connor insisted. Logan smiled widely as he finished his son's tie and leaned against the dresser.
"I do not lie. I came home just in time for dinner, which you were absolutely silent for the whole entire time. You mom kept asking you questions about how school went and you would just say "fine". That's not exactly normal for you, so she was worried and asked me to go upstairs and see if anything was wrong with you."
"Because I was just going to cry and tell you all my problems…" Connor said sarcastically.
"That's exactly what I said!"
"Women…" Connor shrugged.
"But anyway… I walked upstairs and you were on the computer talking to Tommy..."
"How'd you know it was Tommy?" Connor asked.
"I have much knowledge." Logan said cryptically, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, I poked and prodded. You were genuinely annoyed. I, however, didn't want to face the wrath of returning to your mother with no further knowledge so I continued to poke and prod until you finally cracked. You told me that you had fallen in love with a girl in your class who had just moved here from San Francisco…"
"Yes! Mara." Logan exclaimed.
"Man I forgot about her. That didn't last very long. I think it lasted until I saw her making out on the couch with Brian Langston at a party a few weeks later…" Connor said in reminiscence. Logan laughed.
"Well anyway, I thought it was cute. Your mother, she called Lorelai two seconds after I told her and…"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you told Mom about that! And she called Grams!" Connor exclaimed. "God, that's so embarrassing! I can't believe this! Who else did you tell? Grandma and Grandpa? Luke? Aunt Honor? Please tell me so I know who to avoid this afternoon."
"I only told your Mom relax…" Logan said.
"Why do I even have to go to this thing anyway?" Connor asked.
"Because a very wise woman once told me that the graduation ceremony is not only for the graduate. It's for the loved ones too. Besides after forking over multiple thousands of dollars to that school over the past four years I deserve to see you walk across the stage wearing a ridiculous outfit. I could have bought another car with that money. A maserati…"
"Glad to know I mean so much to you…"
"Why do I have to wear a tie? I mean, no one is going to see my clothes anyway."
"You have to wear a tie because we're going out to eat with your grandparents after the ceremony." Logan said.
"By grandparents you mean Grams and Luke right?"
"Yes, Grams and Luke. I even let them pick out the restaurant. Luke said he hadn't had an excuse to get all dressed up in months so a nice expensive dinner sounded wonderful!"
"Alright so…not Grams and Luke. Grandpa Christopher? I haven't seen him and Gigi in a long time. That would be fun…" Logan looked at him pointedly. Connor grunted. "I don't want to go to dinner with them on my graduation day!"
"No, Dad. It's just going to turn into another dinner with Grandpa forcing business talk down my throat and every time I try and change the subject he'll say 'Connor, you should be listening to this…after all you're a Huntzberger. You need to learn the ins and outs of everything. In a few years you'll practically be running the company. You would want your father to hand over a multi billion dollar media conglomerate to incompetent child, now would you?' God that man does wonders for my self-esteem!"
"Connor, I know Grandpa can be a little pushy…"
"…sometimes…but he just wants what's best for you." Connor scoffed. "Hey, I know. I get it, okay? I was his son, kid. I had the ten times the amount of pressure put on me. I hated him. I understand how you feel. But he doesn't think you're an incompetent child, alright. He just…he doesn't communicate his feelings very well. I know he doesn't think that because if he did he wouldn't be pressuring you to take over the business. It's his life, kid. He would never give it to someone if he didn't think they had the talent and drive to handle it. You do. He knows that."
"Hey, kid, look…I know I always told you that you can do anything you want to with your life and I meant it. I still do. But I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that it wouldn't mean anything to me to hand over the business to my son, especially when I know that you'll be an amazing replacement for yours truly. I'm not saying you have to follow that path. I'm just asking you to consider it."
"I have considered it." Connor admitted. Logan smiled.
"Good. Hey, and who knows, maybe your sister is next in line for Huntzberger Media."
"Don't scare me, please!" Connor said dramatically.
"So you do care." Logan said with a laugh. His daughter was talented in many areas but managing people was not one of them. He stepped forward and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Alright, I'm going downstairs. But before I go I want to give you something. Logan reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a card. He handed it to his son who looked at him apprehensively.
"Dad, you don't have to. You and Mom already…"
"Hey, I know. This is a little more personal…something that I found the other day going through some old boxes. I want you to have it." Logan walked out of the room with Connors eyes following him. When he was out of sight and could be heard walking into his sister Ellie's room, he opened the card.
"Congratulations!" Connor read on the cover before flipping open the card and removing a pile of papers to read the rest. "To the most deserving kid in the world. I'm so proud of you. Love Dad." He sighed before throwing the card on the dresser and opening the papers he found inside. His brow wrinkled in confusion when he read the date on the top of the first paper.
March 14 2009. His Birthday.
He looked down to the bottom of the paper and noticed it was marked with his father's handwriting. It was also written on a Hartford Memorial Hospital stationary. Intrigued, he began to read…
Hey kid, or well…whatever your name is. You don't really have a name yet so I guess "Kid" is as good as anything to call you. Blame your mother. She was convinced you were a girl-the next Lorelai- and, being the stubborn woman she is, refused to find out for sure.
You're probably wondering why I'm writing this, now, to you, an infant who can't even make out basic shapes let alone read something. I don't really have an answer for that. All I know is that about a half an hour ago a nurse handed me this tiny blue bundle with a squirming pink little human being in it and called me "Daddy". That freaked me out just a little bit, kid. I'm not going to lie.
As a twenty-five year old guy, I've held a grand total of three babies throughout the entire course of my life, your cousin Amy, my cousin, and Lane's kid. Each time I held these babies they immediately proceeded to cry, scream, and risk almost certain death by wiggling out of my arms, in order to get the hell away from me. And, each time they did, I immediately proceeded to tense, making them scream louder, and hand them back to their mother…or father, whoever was closer… Then the nurse handed you to me, making you lucky number four, and you did the same exact thing. You were crying and screaming and squirming uncontrollably and I was suddenly hit with the fact that I couldn't pawn you off to your father. I'm your father. And then I was hit with the sudden urge to bolt.
Bolting is a talent that I have mastered with extreme precision and speed. I hold it on the top ten list of things I'm good at. Really, I'd place it as number three, number two being causing chaos and number one being…well…maybe I'll tell you when you're older. If you are older and for some reason reading this then…ask your mother.
That was slightly inappropriate and for that I apologize. See number seven on my list, making people extremely uncomfortable at very inappropriate times. Moving on…
I've never been really good at taking care of other people. Frankly, I'm still learning how to take care of myself. I have by no means mastered this quality, either. Between you and me…I tend to royally screw up everything I touch. I got kicked out of about five different schools-the best in the country, I crashed my first car within a month of getting my license, I sunk a yacht of the coast of Fiji, I…I did some pretty horrible things to your mom. I just thank God everyday that she found it in herself to forgive me. I don't know what I'd do without her. I love her more that you could ever imagine.
I wanted to bolt from her, too.
I never pictured my life like this. When people used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I usually pictured myself working, a lot, coming home to a different woman every night, living in a penthouse in the city-alone. I never, not once, considered getting married and having two and half kids, a dog, and a house with a white picket fence.
Somewhere along the way a wrench got stuck in the works, either a wrench or the champagne cork from the bottle your mother held when she kissed me the first time. Even then, I was too afraid to touch her, afraid that I would royally screw her up. She was way too good for me. But for some reason, she liked me…I have no idea why, kid. I still don't.
I remember the first time I ever envisioned a future with her in it. We were at the house in Martha's Vineyard. It was the first time she had ever been there and she was absolutely in love with it-the beaches, the house...Stan. She loved Stan. I even caught her trying to feed him one night. But, anyway, she was in the kitchen cooking and I walked inside while the lobsters were grilling, a fine Huntzberger tradition. She was walking through the kitchen, wearing a blue striped apron, and going through cabinets, taking out ingredients and appliances. She looked absolutely amazing.
When she noticed me standing there she smiled and started ranting about how proud of herself she was. She had yet to cut any fingers off or start any fires and it had already been fifteen minutes. God, she was so adorable. As I kissed her, I realized for the first time that I wouldn't mind kissing her before dinner every night for the rest of my life.
You didn't know me before I married your mom. So you have no idea how big of a deal that was for me. I, Logan Huntzberger, was willing to put up my robe and pipe for a single woman. I married her.
The day of our wedding I stood at the altar as she walked toward me in that big white dress. I really wanted to…bolt. Again…I really really wanted to bolt. I didn't want to get married! I never pictured a woman kissing me in a big white dress. I had pictured a woman kissing my in a small tiny almost nonexistent red dress…or black…you get the picture. But when finally reached me she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and grabbed my hand and I realized she needed me. She loved me. And I needed her as well. God knows I loved her. I love her. Suddenly I didn't want to bolt anymore.
Flash forward two years to tonight. I was standing in the delivery room with you still in my arms, still screaming, still feeling the insufferable urge to bolt so I don't royally screw you up. Your mother was lying in bed going through the process of birth they don't show on TV. You'll see why of you ever have children of your own. The nurses were all tending to her and I was just standing there, looking down at you. You had your eyes closed, you had yet to open them and you were so…pink. There's really no other way to describe it. You were helpless…and you needed me to help you live.
Remember how I told you I had yet to learn to take care of myself? I had no idea how to take care of a tiny innocent human being. I never had a good role model as a father. I love my Dad. But you also have to understand the fact that I spent most of my life trying to get him to love me back. Huntzbergers are masters at placing conditions on love. I can honestly say that no one had ever loved me unconditionally in my life before I met your mother.
My Dad's not a horrible guy. Many might argue otherwise but they don't know him like I do. Every time he does something that would seem to any other human being as cold hearted and just plain cruel, he usually has something good fueling it in his mind. For example the extended trip to London he sent me on a couple years ago. To most, it seemed an elaborate ruse to keep me away from Rory, your mom. But…it wasn't. I know that now. He just wanted what was best for me. He wanted me to live up to the potential he knew I had.
Basically what I'm trying to say is that I know that my Dad isn't as cruel as to intentionally limit the love he handed to his kids. I can bet you anything that when my sister and I were born he wanted nothing more to be the best father he could be. He wanted us to look up to him and love him. He didn't want to be anything like his father was to him.
But he was…
God, kid, that scares the shit out of me. Because the moment your mother told me she was pregnant with you I vowed that I would be the best father I could be. I wanted to you look up to me and love me. I didn't want to be anything like my Dad.
What if I am, though?
Bolt. Bolt. Bolt.
I could hear it in my head, chanting along with the increased rate of my heart beats. I could be gone so fast. I run a five and a half minute mile…I have a 295 hp six cylinder Porsche waiting for me in the parking lot, 0 to 60 in 5.2 seconds. That's a fucking freaking fast car. I was about to do it too. I was. I could feel my feet rising from the ground. The muscles in my arms were contracting as I started to push you toward the nurse so I could get the hell out of there. I could get out of there, out of your life and completely destroy any chance of causing you any pain. I could keep you from having a father that you hated to go home to. I could keep you the pain of conditional love.
But before I moved you an inch away from my side your big blue eyes looked up at me for the first time and your tiny little fist grabbed my right pinky finger. You squeezed it as hard as you possibly could and kept looking up at my face, bobbing your head lightly from side to side. I realized that for the first time since the nurse handed you to me you had stopped crying, too enthralled with the sights of the room to think about anything else. I tried to free my finger from your grasp but you wouldn't let go. It was as if you knew that I was scared, that I was thinking of bolting and you weren't going to let me.
You needed me.
And I loved you more than you can possibly imagine.
I wasn't going anywhere.
Your mother called out to me from her hospital bed and I looked up at her, smiling. She smiled back through her tears and reached out to you. As I placed you into her arms, you snuggled there contently. She looked down at you and cooed a greeting. Your eyes focused on hers for a brief second before you closed them once again, falling asleep. The nurses took you away to the nursery where you are currently lying, wrapped up in a fluffy blue blanket surrounded by dozens of other new-borns. Your mother is asleep. And I'm sitting here in the waiting room scribbling away on hospital note pad because I don't have anything else to do but write. That's what we Huntzbergers do when talking looses all purpose. We write. It's in our blood.
So I'm writing to you. I'm telling you that I screw up. I screw up a lot. And I'm scared. If there's anything in the world that I don't want to do it's screw you up. I love you, kid. I want you to know that. You may hate me in the future. We may scream at each other constantly…lord knows my father screamed at me…But I want you to know that I will always love you. You and your mother…you mean everything to me. I would be lost without you. I don't want to bolt anymore, kid.
So about this "kid" thing…I guess you're going to need a name huh? Well, see the nurse handed me this handy book of baby names…I think I'll pass on your uncle's suggestion to name you Finn Junior. By the way I'm sorry for making you refer to him as your "uncle" but…I told Colin he could be an uncle so, therefore, I had to extend the invitation to best friend number two, no matter how insane he is. I promise never to leave you alone with him for too long. If that makes up for it.
Much wanted. Son of my right hand…or in your case…pinky finger.
Connor Benjamin Huntzberger.
I know it's not Frankenstein but…I like it. What do you think?
"Oh oh! That's a good one!" Rory exclaimed as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, snatching pictures of her graduate as he walked down. Connor immediately covered his face with his hands and started groaning in protest.
"Ace, leave the kid alone you're going to blind him!" Logan shouted from the living room.
"Hush you!" Rory called back. "Come in here! I want a picture of you and your son before the ceremony!"
"Mom, you've already taken like five thousand pictures of me!" Connor exclaimed.
"Hush you! And I don't have one with you and your father yet, or of you and your sister…Ellie!" Rory called upstairs.
"Hurry up! We're leaving soon! And I need a picture of you and Connor before we go!"
"For the love of God, child, stay in your room!" Logan called up dramatically.
"Stop being stupid, Daddy!"
"I feel so loved." Logan said, turning to face his wife who was rolling her eyes.
"Alright, stand over there by the fire place." Rory commanded her men. They obliged and stood next to each other. Logan's arm was draped across his son's shoulder. They smiled as Rory brought the camera up. She pressed the button but no flash went off.
"Oh, crap! The memory card's full. I'll be right back." She walked out of the room, leaving the father and son alone. Logan, pulling on the arm wrapped around his son, brought him into a hug.
"Excuse me, but I think I'll use this time to have an extremely cheesy moment." Connor smiled and returned the hug.
"Hey Dad?" Connor asked.
"I think I would have preferred Frankenstein." Logan laughed out loud. "Thanks for not bolting." Connor said, unconsciously increasing the pressure of the hug. Logan closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, returning the tightening of his sons grip.
"Thanks for keeping me here, kid. I love you. You know that right? And I am so unbelievably proud of you."
"Yea, I know. I love you too, Dad." Behind them a flash went off and they broke away from each other to see Rory standing there looking at the camera.
"Now that's a keeper. Uh! I have outdone myself, once again! Watch out Cartier-Bresson!"
"And I thought you had outdone yourself with the pictures of my naked butt." Logan said walking up to her and wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Yes…as hard as it is to believe this one's better." Rory said before kissing him.
"You two make me sick."
"Aw…we love you too." Rory said, breaking away from her husband. "Ellie! Let's go! We need to get some good seats! Otherwise I'll embarrass you by climbing over the rows and rows of people to get pictures!"
"I'm coming, Mom!" Rory turned to Logan.
"This memory card only holds 150 photos. Do you think I should bring another one?"
"Of course…I mean…150 photos? That's bull shit!" Logan said sarcastically.
"I know. I should write a letter to the camera company." Rory said, seriously.
"Maybe if we stop by Walgreen's we can get another one." She said as Ellie walked down the stairs.
"Oh my God! You look beautiful. My little girl is growing up!" she exclaimed, snapping pictures of her as well.
"Daddy, make her stop!" Ellie whined.
"If only I had that power…"
"You all just don't appreciate my wonderful picture taking abilities. I could be the next Ansel Adams. And here I was wasting my talent away on a newspaper all these years."
"What a tragedy." Logan said smirking and shaking his head.
"You're holding me back, Huntzberger. It's all your fault."
"I'll file for the divorce tomorrow." He said.
"See, this is why I love you. You're always thinking of me!" she said. "Alright, in the car with all of you! We have a graduation to attend. I will not miss my baby getting his diploma!"
"Can we put the embarrassment level on a minimum before we arrive at the school, please?" Connor asked.
So that was it! Please review and tell me how you liked it!