Disclaimer: Amy and Daniel Palladino, along with the rest of the WB, own Gilmore Girls. I'm just borrowing the characters. "Stuck In The Middle With You" is owned by Stealers Wheel.

Spoilers: Pulp Friction

A/N: My second Finn/Rory in, what is this, a day? Haha. I've got way too much time on my hands. This is actually one of my more logical ones. It's based on my insane What If? scenario that: What if something else happened to make Logan jealous?

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"Do I know you?"

Rory sighed. There it was, that question again. Finn had already asked her that twice in two hours, and she was finding it hard to believe that he kept forgetting her. Then again, it was the most interaction she was getting, so she couldn't complain. Logan was keeping his distance, Colin only came over to complain, and Robert had a hard time talking about something other than himself. In fact, he seemed just as bored with her as she'd been with him as he'd been MIA for the past fifteen minutes.

"Yes, you do, Finn. In fact, you've met me tonight, and before that even," she answered, not even bothering to look at him.

"Have I?" His voice held an odd tone, boarding on amusement.

She looked up at him. He was smirking down at her, an expectant look on his face. "You know me!" she accused, the whole thing dawning on her.

"You caught me, I confess!" he cried melodramatically. "Will you find it in your heart not to kick my arse with chains? I happen to like my arse, and I firmly believe chains should only be used in the bedroom."

She laughed. "So why the façade?"

He shrugged. "It's fun to see you get all riled up. It's cute, 'specially in that skirt."

She blushed. "Thanks."

"Any time, love." He winked and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Dumped that Robert whacker yet?"

She looked at Finn in shock. "You hate him, too?"

He took a gratuitous sip of his drink. "You've been talkin' to Logan, I see. Poor boy can't seem to keep his jealousy in tact." He shook his head sadly.

"Robert's the one that left, actually," Rory admitted.

"And left you alone? What an arsehole! Don't worry, love, your honor shall be defended!" he exclaimed, grabbing two drinks off a passing tray. He handed her one. "Don't drink it too much, love, I've seen how much you can handle and frankly, I left my needle in my dorm."

She giggled. "I like the theme for your party, by the way."

He looked extremely pleased with her praise. "Thank you, doll. I came up with it a few weeks ago after watching Jackie Brown for the hundredth time."

"How were you able to pull it off? And where did you get the 5,6,7,8-a-likes?"

"Carefully, and with a bit of charm," he answered mysteriously. "Now I get a question: why did you not come with Huntzberger? Are you not currently betrothed to him?"

Rory shook her head. "It's a no-string type of thing."

Finn rolled his eyes. "You're both incredibly stupid, were you aware? Does this mean that he won't come over and beat the everlasting shite out of me if we dance?"

Rory, having lived with her mother for most of her life, was used to the abrupt topic change. "You just called me stupid, what makes you think that I want to dance with you?"

"Because we're both wearing wigs," he told her matter-of-factly.

"That was incredibly inane logic," she stated.

"And yet, you're finding yourself strangely drawn to my fascinating speech pattern and mesmerizing charm, are you not?" He grabbed her hand. "You can't do this to me on my birthday, I'm not afraid to cry."

"Blackmailing me?"

"It's a little trick I picked up at Evil-Yet-Captivating Australians Charm School," he replied with a straight face.

"Well, I can't stand to see you cry, especially on your birthday."

"That is absolutely spiffing." He led her to the middle of the room, designated the dance floor, and twirled her out. He started singing with the song in his best Rastafarian voice. "She put the lime in the coconut, she drank them both up/She put the lime in the coconut, she drank them both up."

It was fairly off-key and Finn's Rastafarian voice matched with his Australian accent ended up coming out distorted. Rory started to laugh. "Is all the music from Quentin Tarantino movies?"

"Did you expect anything less?"

"Are you going to answer all my questions with a question?" she teased.

"Do you want me to stop? Your wish is my command, my lady, for at this moment you have caught my fancy, my whimsical fantasies are focused on you and you alone for the rest of the night."

"I'm not sure whether to be complimented or afraid."

He twirled her again, seemingly oblivious to the actual beat of the music, and apparently wanting to make up his own. She ended up with her back pressed up against his chest and her arms crossed across her stomach, Finn holding each hand. He leaned down to breath in her ear, and she shivered. "It is most definitely a compliment, darling."

Rory turned her head to stare up at Finn, the astonishment registering on her face. He was blatantly, outright flirting with her. No one had ever done that, ever. She was sure Finn wasn't drunk-or as drunk as he could be, as he was still passed tipsy but not plastered, yet anyway. "Finn?" Her voice sounded soft, far away.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you doing?" The song had changed again, something slower, but not so slow that they had to change their pace, not that they would have paid any attention to it anyway.

Finn looked at her as though she were joking. "I thought it was obvious."

"Humor me," she replied.

"I'm helping you."

"Helping me?" she echoed.

"Helping you with your case."

"What is my case and why do you assume that you need to take it upon yourself to help me with it?" she asked, curious as it what his motives were. Finn was one of those that could still think logically until he was falling down drunk, no matter how unusual his brand of logic seemed. The fact that he was willing to help her with a case that she didn't even know that she'd taken upon herself to take confused her.

His fingertips danced lightly up and down her sides, almost as if trying to tickle her, see if she would laugh. "Your coyness is cute. However, in the off chance that you actually don't what I'm talking about, I shall spell it out for you in alphabet soup letters. You are doing that thing with Logan that he is so fond of."

Her eyes widened. Did he have to be so blunt about it? "Excuse me?"

Finn laughed. She was blushing slightly, and he was just so amused about how prim she could be at times. It was refreshing, in all honesty, and endearing when it came to her. "Not sex, darling, I'd have just come out and say that. No, the no-strings thing. A Huntzberger specialty. Now, if it were me, I'd not want that. You're special."

"You're not going to call the short bus on me, are you?"

He grinned. "Now, love, don't change the subject. I was just getting to the good part." He paused for dramatic effect. "You're here with Robert."

"Yes, I am. How astute of you," she replied sarcastically.

Finn clucked his tongue. "Patience is a virtue."

"Do you really think you should be lecturing me on virtues?" Rory retorted.

He smirked. He liked her already. "No, but you shouldn't lecture me about vices. Now, what were we talking about?"

"My case."

"Yes! Your case! Quite a doozy it is. You're here with Robert. This means that you are not here with the attractive-yet-misguided Logan and his abnormally long neck."

"Finn!" Rory hissed. She still wasn't used to the way they could insinuate that they were in love with each other, and then insult the same person in the same sentence.

"It is," he argued, as if that settled it all. "So, as you are not here with Logan, that means that you got invited here by Robert, because I doubt that you would just come here for the hell of it, though I'm having trouble comprehending why there are not more people here to celebrate me. But I digress." With a wave of his hand, he continued, "You are trying to make Logan jealous."

She wanted to argue, tell him that he must have been much more intoxicated than she thought, and point out to him that him that she would do no such thing and that she was insulted that he could say such a thing. But one look up into his eyes, which were unnervingly honest, for what she could assume was the first time in a while, and she just sighed. "What if I am?"

He smirked and tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer so that they barely had any room between each other. "Like I think I mentioned, correct if I'm wrong, my memory is going in my old age, I am only here to help and assist you in your quest to make Logan Huntzberger insanely jealous."

She eyed him. "What do you want from me?"

He looked mortally offended. "My intentions are nothing but honorable- I happen to thrive on seeing Logan on the brink of spontaneously combusting with envy, and you intrigue me."

"I intrigue you?" she repeated skeptically.

"Does it sound better if I say mystify?"

"Only if you don't sing it."

"You and your sexy talk. Do we have a deal? I can guarantee you that he'll be banging down your door by the time the party comes to a screeching halt."

"And when will it come to a screeching halt?"

"When I pass out, naturally. Deal?"

She paused, considering everything. How he knew that she was trying to make Logan jealous was beyond her, but that was what she wanted. She looked up at Finn, who was staring at her with an odd emotion on his face. She smiled at him, and she could swear his eyes lit up. "You sure have the lost art of charm down."

"I'll have to write a letter to the EYCACS," he joked.

"So what will this entail?"

"You, me, and a bottle of Jack Daniels."

"Whose car are you going to throw it at?"

"I was thinking Robert's." On her off look, he elaborated. "I told you that I'd defend your honor, and I'm nothing but a man of my word." She giggled and he mock glared at her. "I find it insulting that you don't believe me."

He had a haughty tone that made her giggle even harder. "I'm finding it hard to believe that you even know the word honor, let alone have it in your dictionary."

"I don't, I learned it from Stephanie," he admitted. The song changed again and Finn stopped dancing. "I feel that our arrangement should be bound with shots."

She looked at him warily. "What kind of shots?"

He winked at her. "I'll surprise you." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. He had the faint scent of alcohol and aftershave. "Two Slow Comfortable Screws, my good man." Finn hit the bar twice for effect.

Rory stared at him. "What, exactly, are those?"

"Blasphemy!" Finn exclaimed, looking offended. "You've never heard of a Slow Comfortable Screw? It is only my favorite drink in the entire bloody world. Except for Blowjobs, but I don't feel you're ready for that." He grinned mischievously at her horrified look. "I'm not propositioning you, love. You need to be a bit more sloshed for me to do that, and by that time you'll be so susceptible to my charm that you'll be enticing me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Will I now?"

"Naturally I'll say yes because I won't want to hurt you'll feelings," he continued.

"Naturally," she said sardonically.

The bartender handed them two drinks. They were tinted orange with a few cubes of ice for decoration. Finn held his drink up, and Rory clinked hers with his. "Bottoms up!" he exclaimed, downing the whole thing.

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Part of their pact, Rory soon found out, was that she spent the rest of the time with him. Soon, however, she found out that she didn't particularly mind. He kept extremely good company, witty and fascinating. It helped that he was attractive, even dressed up like John Travolta. So three hours later, which felt more like fifteen minutes, she found herself sitting on his lap-something she never thought would ever happen-while he opened presents. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist while she opened the presents for him and he took them to inspect. It was an unusual system, but effective.

"The Kama Sutra!" Finn cried, holding up the book to the light as if it were his bible. He looked almost humbled in its presence. "Wanna look at it a bit later?" he whispered huskily in Rory's ear.

She giggled and blushed. It was all innocent fun, or as innocent as it could be when any member of the LBD was involved, and she knew that they were just making Logan jealous. Of course, if she'd been paying any attention, she would have realized that she hadn't looked at Logan at all since Finn first talked to her.

"Okay, kids!" Colin yelled. "These presents are all well and good, but now it's time for mine." He handed the impeccably wrapped present specifically to Finn instead of Rory like everyone had been.

Finn looked at it suspiciously, shook it, and then held it up to his ear. "It doesn't sound like it's ticking, but one never knows." He removed his arm from Rory's waist, and Rory had to restrain herself from protesting, rationalizing with herself that she really didn't care whether or not he was touching her.

"Colin, you saucy minx!" Finn cried with glee. His present was three shot glasses with letters on them, and put together they spelt out 'SEX.' "They're perfect!"

Colin smirked, proud of himself. "What can I say? I thought of you."

Finn hugged the package the shot glasses were in to his chest, but once he put them down he wasted no time in putting his arm back around Rory's waist. After a few more presents, he pulled Rory further onto his lap, so that she was pressed up against him. His other arm snaked around her waist and clasped his other hand. "Rory, love, how are you feeling?" he murmured.

"I'm feeling good," she replied, making herself more comfortable on him. "What about you?"

"I could say something extremely mean and extremely untrue about how you're crushing my legs into a fine powder, but you weigh about five pounds, so no problems here," he told her.

"That's good to know."

"Isn't it?" He glanced down at her jacket. "You went to Chilton?"

"From my sophomore year," she responded.

"Heard it's hard," he stated.

"It was when I started, but it got easier once I caught up."

"I'm glad you did, because the jacket goes phenomenally with the outfit."

She flushed. How was it that something as silly and off-handed as that made her feel special? "Thank you."

The crowd was starting to disperse and mingle among themselves again, the excitement of Finn's gift opening over. A few people hung around, but none really talked to either of them. They'd stopped after Finn kept blowing them off to chat with Rory. That had been a while ago, and now the only outside conversations they had were with waitresses with drinks or a few of Finn's closer friends coming over to check out if the rumors were true- he was only hanging out with one of Logan's girl "friends."

"Darling, I have a very important question to ask you," Finn suddenly said seriously.

Rory's breath hitched in her throat, a million ideas flitting through her head, only staying for milliseconds at a time. "Yeah?" She tried to keep it cool and casual, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her actual thoughts.

"What is your favorite Quentin Tarantino movie?"

She started to laugh, mostly at her own scared notions. Nothing with Finn was ever that serious. "That's tough. I think that I'm going to have to go with Pulp Fiction."

He nodded. "Very wise choice. Mine is Reservoir Dogs, but I decided that dressing up as Mr. Pink, by far the best of them, was a bit too ordinary as no one would be able to tell me apart from the rest of them. And sadly, I don't share the same bone structure with Steve Buscemi as I do with John Travolta."

"That's true," she conceded.

"Why, thank you, love. All I need is a plane, now, and a bizarre friendship with Oprah." He grinned at her.

"Their friendship isn't bizarre," she argued.

"That's because all women side with Oprah. It's like a cult, or as I like to think of it, a sorority."

"I'll have you know, not all women blindly follow Oprah."

"Oh really? You're telling me that you've never religiously watched 'Oprah,' even for a week?" Finn raised an eyebrow.

She turned so she could face him better, putting a hand on his shoulder to secure herself so she wouldn't fall. "I can honestly tell you that."

"Color me surprised," he dead-panned.

She laughed. "What color would that be? White?"

"No, that would be on the off chance that you ever hear me say 'color me traumatized,'" he informed her.

"I would think trauma would be blue, like when you're upset," she mused.

"No, blue would be angry."

"Angry?" she repeated doubtfully, an eyebrow rose in his direction.

"You know, when you yell at someone until you're blue in the face," he explained.

"I may be a bit tipsier than I originally thought, because that makes sense. But what I don't get is why red wouldn't represent anger, as it normally does?"

"Because red is too close to pink, and pink represents modesty, as you blush whenever I say or do something particularly dirty," he informed her, slightly smirking.

She looked away. "You always say something perverted."

"And you always blush." Gently, he turned her head towards him. "But it's cute when you do it." His voice had become huskier as he stared at her. He stroked her cheek and lifted her off the seat so she was sitting next to him.

She understood suddenly. He just wanted to make Logan jealous; it was fun for him to see Logan get mad. She started to get up, but he pulled her back down. He looked her in the eyes, and she realized that she had made a mistake-he didn't want to irritate Logan, he wanted her. She closed her eyes as he brushed his lips against hers. That's when she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss herself, suddenly not caring whether or not Logan was watching, or whether or not he was envious, or even if he cared.

Finn pulled away only when he needed to and leaned his forehead against hers. "Hi, love."

"Hi," she replied softly. Her head was still swimming from the kiss, so it was moment before she asked, "Why did you put me down?"

He smirked at her. "I like to be on top," was all he said before he leaned down to kiss her again.