(I bet you're sweet and hard to get over)

"Mate, it's been nearly two weeks," Finn said on the phone to Logan. "That's much too long to be moping over your woman."

"Finn, I should tell you that you are the worst person in the world to make me feel better. So please stop trying. And I'm not moping. What were her words? Oh yes, she wants to go slow. She's not leaving, but she took time off. And she wanted me to leave her be for a little bit. So I'm waiting."

And that's what she told him, as he held her arms and his fingers grazed her jawbone with a feather light touch that made her nearly crumble inside with his sensitivity and concern for her. She had placed her cold – freezing cold, one of the things he remembers from that night, why were her hands so goddamn cold – hands on either side of his face and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. She had watched him go, and when she heard the definite click of her door close, she went to her balcony. She leaned against the ledge and watched him walk down the ever-busy New York street. His shoulders slumped, almost defeated, even after his long battle and his epic speech of his never ending love for her.

It was a scene that someone may have played on the Lifetime movie network. Her leaning against a balcony, the soft breeze playing with both the hem of her robe and her curly locks as his retreating figured walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his suit pants pockets. If he had only seen her, he would have known the depths of her love for him. If only she had maybe stood up to him, maybe told him that no, she actually couldn't live without him, and though she had pseudo-resigned, she really didn't see herself anywhere except with him.

But she hadn't. And she didn't know what had stopped her. Even now, as she sat on her couch in her apartment, Colin leaning on a coffee table in front of her, trying to coerce any scrap of information from her, she didn't know.

She shook her head numbly and at this point and time in her crisis, she didn't know if she was grieving over her grandmother or the boy that had long ago taken her heart and she still hasn't been able to find. Except for when he holds in his outstretched hand for her to take. But even then, she merely let it go.

What was she doing? She should be with him. After all of this, everything that had happened, they should be together. Even if they were just friends. They should be talking, hanging out, eating out every once and a while together. Not this estranged lovers sort of thing they've mastered over the past year. She told him to go slow – something they had never practiced, let alone believed in? After all they had been through, after their endless battles of push and shove, the hesitant pauses suspended in the air between insults and arguments, the soft trail of his fingertip along her shoulder blade; she should have been flying into his arms with love and adoration, with fiery, passionate kisses that would leave even him, playboy extraordinaire, speechless.

And thus, her pleas and endless begging to go slow were hastily thrown out the window as she jumped into a cab in the middle of the street to get to his apartment as soon as possible. She didn't bother to change from her tattered Yale long-sleeved shirt or jeans, hastily slid-into flip flops, and almost forgot to grab her purse so she could pay the cab driver. Oh, and she left Colin sitting on her coffee table, confused as hell as to what his best friend and said friend's seemingly-psychotic girlfriend (Colin's eyebrows scrunched together in thought, what were they even?) were going to do both with or without each other.

Meanwhile, across the city, Rory stumbled out of the cab and all but charged into penthouse building that Logan resided in. She pushed the elevator button impatiently, her fingers slapping against the plastic contraption, annoyed, urging it futilely to move faster. The same once she actually got into the elevator. The balls of her feet her bouncing, her hair was frazzled, her face was flushed. She was a mess.

But that was the thing, like Harry said to Sally in that fateful movie her mom made her watch every time she returned home, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." And thus, that was all she thought about the whole elevator ride up to the top floor.

When he answered the door, her incessant pounding stopped, but she was happy to say the same didn't go for her heartbeat. It flew out of her chest, and garbled with the rest of her system. "Forever somebody life possible spend," was what came out of her mouth.

Logan's eyebrows narrowed. "Are you drunk?"

She took a deep breath to calm down. "No! It's from When Harry Met Sally!" She waved her hands impatiently for emphasis. "I made you watch it that one time!" She could have sworn she said something intelligible when he opened the door.

"Right, but I don't remember that exact phrasing. Maybe something a little more…coherent. But not what you just said," he finished with a smirk.

She was breathing heavily now, in a kind of stupor some might call a panic attack. While Logan's face paled at the sight of her shallow breathing, she held out a hand to tell him to wait. "I love you," she breathed. "And I don't want to go slow. I lied. I just want to be with you. Because if my grandmother dying has showed me anything, it's that time can stop for anyone at anytime and that I should hold on to what I have. And what I have is you. Well, if you'll still be with me, that is." She gave a small smile of encouragement, her bottom teeth worrying her lip.

He gave her a little time to catch her breath and smirked, catching her as she launched herself into his arms, her legs wrapping lithely around his narrow waist as she caught his lips with hers. She smiled against his lips and he rolled his eyes, pulling away at her pregnant pause in their lip lock.

"What?" he asked exasperated.

"Do you really remember watching When Harry Met Sally?" she asked a dopey grin on her face.

He shook his head, balancing her weight against the door to his penthouse, which he had managed to maneuver closed before they got too heady and did something rash in the middle of the hallway.

She laughed as she pressed her lips tentatively against his, gauging his reaction. Was he really happy about this long-awaited revelation or was he exhausted from this game? Did he think he was rebound, or maybe just something to make her feel better in the midst of her grief? She new deep down he could never be either, but rather, the reason she would need either. Her arms twined delicately around his neck, grateful for his warmth, his security, his safety. The feelings he evoked from her were reason enough to be with him.

Her head fell back against the wooden door as his lips fell from her own and skimmed down the line of her throat. Her hands moved to his hair, sliding through the baby soft threads carefully, finding their place at the nape of his neck as she smoothed down the small hairs she found. "What?" she whispered, dragging her lips to his ears, sensing his tension.

"Honestly?" he asked, continuing when she pulled back from him to see his face. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know you mean it and I know that I want this, and I can see that you do too, but it seems surreal. Like maybe this shouldn't be happening."

She smiled sadly, nodding, "I know. I can't believe what an idiot I've been." He moved them carefully from the door to the recliner in his living room, setting them both down in the same position they were against the door; her straddling his lap and he with his arms wrapped firmly around her tiny waist.

"You had to know it would come to this," he admonished. "We're too good together," he added cockily.

"Well, thank God I had you there to remind me," she said, rolling her eyes.

"No problem, babe. But I'm being serious, I need to know you want this. For real, not halfway, not three-quarters, but the whole shebang. You and me, forever, or as long as we make it." His eyes met hers and she smiled a teary smile before nodding.

She kissed him firmly, "I want this. You bet your ass I do. You'll just have to put up with me for the next countless years."

"Well, we both know how we do with the alternative of not being together."

His lips found hers again and his lips wandered down her jaw line as her eyes widened. "Oh my God, what will we tell Colin and Finn?"

He smirked, "I doubt they'll be surprised."

At the end of the night, after they had secured the deal many times over, he reached for her under the thin sheet and wrapped his arm securely around her waist, twining his hand with hers just so.

In his familiar, king sized bed they were more than lovers, but soulmates; more than just coworkers, but partners; more than just best friends, but the other half. They made each other's lives more than just mere existence, but life full of funny moments, lingering touches and heated arguments with hours of make-up afterwards. They defined their relationship by these things, and these things defined their relationship.

If this was love, each would happily take it.


A/N: Wow, its been a long time coming. I'm sorry for the wait - there's no excuse. I hope you enjoyed the cheesy and cliche and totally fluffy ending. :) i know i did. Anyways, thanks for hanging in there. I appreciate it more than you know. as always, enjoy and review.