One

When Logan proposes the first time, Rory is so stunned she doesn't even know how to respond. The girl who prides herself on her words is suddenly left stammering, speechless, but acutely aware of everyone staring at them expectantly (staring at her expectantly).

Turning him down guts her, leaves her wrecked, because she did not expect that turning him down meant the end of their relationship. She loves him, wants to be with him, but the thought of being Mrs. Huntzberger and twenty-two scares the ever-living daylights out of her. The thought of being married terrifies her. She's the Stars Hollow darling, the great white hope of the Gilmore clan, and marriage so soon, so young, just feels like she's settling.

Even though she knows she wouldn't be settling when it comes to Logan Huntzberger.

Slowly, she picks up the pieces of her life. Joins the Senator Obama press pack, pushes Yale and Logan and Stars Hollow out of her mind as best she can.

Two

"We should get married," Logan declares several weeks after she flies to London to tell him he's going to be a father.

Rory snorts with laughter from her perch on his sofa, lit only by his Christmas tree and fairy lights they'd wound around his balcony. "You sound like my Grandmother," she retorts, still laughing. "A child should have a mother and a father," she mimics. "As if you're not a father simply because we're not married."

Logan stills at the kettle before turning to face her. "We haven't really talked much about the future, Rory."

"And your solution is to propose marriage?" she replies incredulously. "Are you insane? You were engaged to someone else not even four weeks ago, Logan."

"It doesn't seem completely insane to me," he says reasonably, bringing her a mug of tea and settling next to her on the sofa. "We're not strangers, we love each other, we're having a baby…what could be more logical?"

"The romantic proposal every girl swoons over," Rory mocks, flopping back on the cushions.

"Yeah, well you've already had one of those and you turned that down, too," he shoots back.

Rory immediately sits up straight, a frown on her face. "Shit, I'm sorry. Sometimes our history is…well, our history," she finishes lamely. "I just really don't want to get married just because we're having a baby. That seems like recipe for disaster, regardless of how much I might love the father, you know?"

His face softens when he looks over at her, snuggled into his sofa, wrapped in a blanket, clutching a mug of tea.

"Besides," she continues, "it's not like we've been in a healthy, committed relationship. And you live here and I live in Stars Hollow, for now."

"So your plan is to have the baby in Stars Hollow and I get to see it every now and then?"

"I don't have a plan for anything anymore, Logan, I think that much is clear. Isn't that why I'm here, a week before Christmas discussing the future of my child with said child's father?"

"Would you consider moving to London?"

She glances around the flat, taking in the hard edges, lack of one defined bedroom, let alone two, and thinks of the lack of lift.

"We'll find a baby-friendly home," he says persuasively. "You can write your book anywhere."

"I do not want to be some leech on you. I either get my own flat or it's a non-starter," she replies firmly.

"We get one baby-friendly place and share expenses," he counters.

She chews her lip. "What about us?"

"I was unaware that there was an us to consider."

"You just proposed to me, you idiot!" she exclaims, hitting him with a cushion. "Pick a position and stick with it."

He laughs. "It seemed like the right thing to do. It's like a Pavlovian response: offer a lady your coat when it's cold. Walk on the outside of the street toward the curb. Hold doors. Propose marriage when your girl tells you she's pregnant."

He reaches over and takes her hand. "We've made a bit of a mess of things, haven't we?"

"I think that's the understatement of the century." She looks down at their hands. "I don't want to bring a baby into a mess."

"It'll be easier to fix the mess if we're in the same place, trying. We have every reason to, right?"

Rory looks up and is taken in by his earnestness. Logan is always seemingly so at ease, so adaptable to circumstance, so comfortable with the unknown, and so willing to take a chance. The opposite of her reserved, conservative nature. She leans over to kiss his cheek.

"You jump, I jump, Jack."

Three

Rory holds the sleeping baby to her chest and looks down at her in awe. Exhausted awe, but awe nonetheless. She looks up as Logan leads her mom into the room and gives them a beatific smile.

"You have the new mother glow about you," Lorelai remarks as she leans over to kiss Rory on the forehead. "I hope I have the new grandmother glow. I've heard it takes at least ten years off the face."

"I'm not sure the new grandmother glow is a thing, to be honest. Now, would you like to meet your granddaughter?"

Lorelai winces at the phrase. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to being a grandma. Can she call me something else instead of Grannie?"

"What, like Meemaw?" Logan supplies helpfully.

Both Gilmores shudder.

"Grandma will suffice." She picks up the sleeping infant, cooing over pink cheeks and tiny fingers. "She is absolutely precious," she breathes, swaying back and forth. "How can you be so cruel to keep her a continent away from her grandmama?"

Logan and Rory share a small smile. "This is where Logan works, Mom, you know that. And since I'm editing my book and now writing for The Guardian, this is where I work, too," Rory says patiently.

"On the plus side, you are giving birth in this insanely fancy hospital. Word has it this is the same room where the Duchess gave birth." Lorelai looks around the room, clearly impressed.

"No royal gynecologists or courtiers to make sure the baby is mine, though," Rory comments blandly.

"Like on The Tudors? Or Marie Antoinette? Do they still do that?" Logan asks, incredulously.

"No idea. Can I have my baby back?"

Several hours later, the ward is dark and the baby is nestled once again in her mother's arms. Logan is on the bed with them, unable to stop touching his daughter.

"We have a kid," Rory whispers to Logan. "A living, breathing, crying, pooping kid."

"That was sweet until the pooping part."

"Mmm," she hums noncommittally. "Babies are supposed to be life derailers, but this one seems to have had the opposite effect. I became very focused once I knew she'd be making an appearance."

Logan gives her a smug look. "It's the Huntzberger in her. Always contrary."

Rory rolls her eyes and lets out a yawn. "Can you get the bassinet? You are warm and cozy and Mama wants sleep." He gently lifts the baby from her arms and puts her in the bassinet, soothing her little protests until she succumbs back to slumber.

"You're good with her," Rory notes as she shifts slightly in the bed to make room for him.

"We have a lot of time to completely fuck it up," he laughs. "My plan is to do the opposite of everything my parents ever did and hope for the best."

"That's probably a good start. That's what my mom did, I think."

"Speaking of doing everything the opposite of your parents," he begins, pulling her left hand into his.

"Oh my God, Logan."

"Well, if we're doing the opposite of your parents, Ace, it's only natural," he smirks. "Come on, we have to go to the registry and wouldn't it be nice if we all had the same surname?"

"Yes, but your parents were married, so if we're doing the opposite of them, then we're not going to get married."

"We live together. We are together. We love each other. We just had a baby. I'm not insane for wanting to marry you, Rory. For us to be a family."

"We are a family," she replies gently. "In every sense of the word. We don't need a ring to make it official. And I don't want you to propose out of obligation. Even if you're not, it feels that way to me."

She yawns again and turns slightly to cuddle into him. "I do love you, you know that, right?"

He presses a light kiss to the crown of her head. "I do."

Four

She's on the porch of the Dragonfly, wrapped in a blanket and holding a glass of wine in one hand and the baby monitor in the other, enjoying the spring air and full moon. Visits to Stars Hollow had become increasingly infrequent over the past year, and getting to spend an entire week with her mother, grandmother, and town is a rare luxury.

She awoke alone in their bed and had padded out to the porch to await his return, figuring even Robert's bachelor party debauchery couldn't last too much past 4 AM.

She laughs to herself when the sleek black car pulls up a little while later and deposits a clearly intoxicated Logan into the drive.

"What are you doing up, Ace?" he drunkenly slurs as he stumbles his way onto the porch and onto the swing next to her.

"I woke up alone and thought I'd come and wait for you, since it's nice out. Couldn't get back to sleep."

"Can't sleep without me, hmm?" he smirks, moving to kiss her neck, hands roaming under the blanket in search of skin. She loses herself in the sensations, wine spilling onto the porch, until a baby snuffle on the baby monitor causes them to break apart, panting.

They both stare at the monitor warily, but when they are met with silence, they both relax back onto the porch swing.

"How was the party? Or do I not want to know?" she asks dryly.

"We toasted the end of Robert's independence in style," he replies, moving closer and pulling the blanket over himself, letting his head flop back to rest on the back of the swing. "And while it was fun, it definitely feels like the porch is spinning. I think I'm too old for this."

"You haven't been out with the boys in quite awhile. I think we're to blame for that." She waves the baby monitor in the air.

"Why go out when everything I want is at home?"

Rory smiles and cards her fingers through his hair. "It's a cliche, but I feel so lucky it scares me sometimes."

"Colin and Finn might mock my newfound domesticity but I think they secretly envy it."

"Are we talking about the same Colin and Finn? Because I'm pretty sure Colin just bought another island in the Caribbean and Finn asked me to play dirty secretary with him the last time I saw him. I was holding the baby."

Logan snorts with laughter. "Okay, maybe I exaggerated a little. But they definitely all forgot we weren't already married. They drunkenly toasted my beautiful wife and baby tonight."

She says nothing, just keeps running her fingers through his hair.

"That feels nice," he murmurs softly, clearly half-asleep.

"I'm sure. We should get you inside before you pass out out here."

"Marrying me would also feel nice, you know, Rory. We're already practically married. You're just being stubborn at this point."

"Probably. But it's time for bed, you drunken lout."

Five

It's not that Rory hasn't thought about marrying Logan. Ever since he proposed nearly a decade ago, the thought would pop up from time to time. I wonder what it would have been like if I had said yes. What's Logan doing now? Is his company doing well?

And now, now that they have one child and another on the way, the thoughts pop into her head with increasing frequency. Why can't I say yes? We are, for all intents and purposes, married. I love him. He loves me. What on earth is wrong with me? And, finally…why hasn't he asked recently?

Because, since the drunken night in Stars Hollow over a year ago, he hasn't brought up marriage once. Rory isn't even sure he remembers discussing it that night, but he has not mentioned it since, not even when she told him they were pregnant again.

It's not that it bothers her, necessarily, but it occasionally prickles at the back of her mind.

So it comes as a complete surprise when he brings it up on the way to the park on a random Saturday afternoon, shortly after a discussion on when to next visit the States and a list of what they need to pick up from Waitrose on the way home.

"Are we ever going to get married?" he blurts out. "Because this has gotten beyond crazy, even for you."

She stops short on the pavement. "I don't know, Logan, are you ever going to ask me nicely again?"

"Are you ever going to say yes if I ask again?" he counters with a grin, realizing that maybe her answer has changed.

"Not today, walking to the park in leggings and old boots, six months pregnant, with spit up on my top from earlier. But maybe when I'm not pregnant, recently gave birth, or generally look disgusting. You know I don't want it to feel like an obligation ask."

"But maybe some other day?"

"Maybe," she says with a smile, pushing the stroller towards Hyde Park.

"You know you don't look disgusting," he says, planting an arm around her waist. "Very yummy mummy."

One

Rory walks into the suite at The Pierre in New York, having left the children with Lorelai and Luke as instructed.

"Logan?" she calls softly, leaving her bag by the door and looking around the room. It's a testament to their time together that she no longer pauses to notice the luxury of her surroundings, but moves straight to the ajar terrace door.

She stops short at the threshold, eyes widening at the sight of candles littering every available surface, twinkle lights and Chinese lanterns strung overhead and wound into the topiaries.

"Oh. My. God," she whispers, a wide smile on her face. She crosses the terrace to the railing, admiring the view of the Upper East Side and Central Park before turning around to take in the wonderland Logan has created.

"You're early," Logan comments from the doorway, holding a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. "I wasn't finished just yet."

She glances around them and then back to him in disbelief. "There was more than all of this?"

"A bit, yes," he admits. "Not much, though."

"Is there an anniversary or special occasion I'm unaware of?"

He sets the bottle and glasses down on a table and slowly walks toward her, backing her up to the railing. "No, no anniversary. Just needed time away from the kids, I thought."

"Time away from the kids," she repeats dumbly.

"Mmmm," he hums, pressing her into the railing and sliding his arms around her waist. "Time away from the kids," he repeats before pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to her neck. "The baby's been fussy lately. So, my dear," he whispers a bit thickly, "are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Rory's eyes are unfocused, cloudy with want.

He fixes her a pointed stare before she collapses in giggles against his chest. "In omnia paratus, really?" He says nothing. "Yes, Logan, I am ready for anything. Are we going to BASE jump off this terrace now?"

"Nothing quite so dramatic. Although, given the way you've carried on about it for years, perhaps it is as dramatic as cliff diving or BASE jumping," he says wryly.

She takes a deep breath, realization dawning. "Oh my God."

"I'm going to ask again, Ace. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'm definitely ready for anything," she says firmly.

"Good," he says. "Because I've asked you this question more times that any man in his right mind should ask. And I promise you, this is the last time. Any further asking will need to be done by you and you alone." She laughs through the tears that are starting to form and he pulls back from their embrace to take her hands in his. "Rory Gilmore, mother of my children, love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you finally marry me?"

"Yes!" she whispers brokenly before leaning up to kiss him fervently. "Yes…yes…yes!"

"Thank God, because I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't asking again." He reaches into his suit pocket. "And it would be such a waste of a pretty ring."

Her eyes light up at the beautiful but tasteful ring. "It is, indeed, very pretty," she confirms as he slides it onto her finger. She moves her hand back and forth, admiring the way the ring sparkles brilliantly on her finger.

"No cold feet?" he asks, kissing her temple. "No second thoughts? No need for a pro/con list?"

She leans up to wrap her arms around him. "No need for any of that. I know when I've been an idiot." She presses a lingering kiss to his lips. "A stubborn idiot."

"Should we tell your mom and grandma? You know Emily will be thrilled."

"They can wait," she murmurs, pressing herself against him, pushing him back towards the suite. "Right now we have this glorious hotel room and no children. I have things I'd rather be doing than talking with or about Mom and Grandma."

His hands find the back of her dress and start to pull down the zipper. "I like the sound of that."

Fin.

AN: Happy New Year! I have not stopped writing Eight Years Later, but this would not get out of my head this holiday season! I hope you enjoyed, please leave comments, thoughts, feedback, etc. via the review feature - it means a LOT to me.