Author's Note: Writers block SUCKS! They say when you have writer's block you should write something, so here I am, writing SOMETHING.

Title: Go with it.

Rating: T

Summary: PDLD, Rory tells Logan a story.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.

"Rory," he whispers, standing by the apartment Paris and I had been sharing. Were we still sharing it, or was I moving? I hadn't really discussed that with him yet, but I would need to.

"Logan," I say back, not wanting to have this conversation now, but knowing that I need to.

"Can we talk?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, I think we need to. Come inside," I say, going through the ritual to unlock the door.

We walk into the apartment and settle on the couch. I sigh, I have no idea where to even start with this conversation. I would love to avoid it altogether, but I can't. Anyway, he will be here to pick me up shortly, and having this conversation would likely get violent quickly, so better to just do it. Logan starts to say something, but I cut him off.

"I don't want to hear your apologies, Logan. I get it, you thought we were broken up, you were wrong. But that doesn't matter now," I say.

"So, you forgive me?" He asks hopefully.

"No, but that doesn't matter anymore," I state blandly.

"It doesn't…Rory, why doesn't it matter anymore?" His voice is getting desperate. Oh, this is going to be harder than I thought.

I lean my head down and mumble something, but I can tell he can't quite hear me.

"Excuse me? I couldn't have heard you correctly, could you repeat that, please?" He says through gritted teeth. Okay, so maybe he did actually hear me.

"It doesn't matter anymore because I may have gotten married this weekend," I say again, this time looking at him in the eyes.

"May have, or did?" He asks.

"Did, definitely did," I say, showing him the ring. They actually have some pretty nice ones in Las Vegas. Especially when you aren't shopping drunk. But that's a part of the story I'm not ready to tell him just yet.

"Who?" He asks.

"Um, Finn?" I say. It's a statement, but I make it sound like a question.

"FINN?" He bellows. "Jesus Christ, Rory, you married Finn over the weekend? What were you thinking!"

"Hey, no fair! You had many blondes for Thanksgiving!" I yell back at him.

"I thought we were broken up!" He yells back at me.

"We weren't! I didn't know we were until Honor called me," I say back.

"So, that makes it okay to marry my best friend?" He yells again, getting up to pace.

"We were broken up!" I justify.

"No we weren't!" He counters, scraping his hands through his hair.

"Yes, we were, Logan. Need I remind you of the blondes? We were so broken up, not even Gorilla Glue could fix us," I say.

"So, you go and marry my best friend? God, Rory, what, were you cheating on me with him? How long have you been fucking him? How long, Rory!"

"It's not like that, Logan, God! It was an accident, okay!" I rest my head in my hands, defeated. Yep, this could very well have come to blows had I waited for Finn to arrive.

"An accident?" Logan questions me, incredulously.

"Yes, Logan, an accident. I didn't set out to marry Finn, it just kind of happened," I explain.

He sighs and sits back down. "Okay, Ace," he starts, and I shudder. I've always hated that nickname. "Explain what happened, and we'll see if we can't fix this, okay?"

I sigh, but decide he deserves to know the whole story.

"It all started when you left me in a room with the women you slept with over Thanksgiving break and our not really break up," I start. "I took a taxi back to New Haven, which took most of my cash. But I had enough to get pretty drunk at the Pub. Apparently, Paris and Doyle had had a bad night too, because Doyle was there and had been drinking this horrible concoction. So anyway, I run out of money and we leave, he says he's cold, so I give him my coat, he kisses my neck. I mean, ew! It's Doyle," I pause, shuddering at the memory.

"Excuse me, mate, but what the hell do you think you are doing?" Questions a masculine, Australian voice.

Finn! My hero!

"Oh, I, um…" Doyle stammers.

"Right, that's my best mate's girl, I suggest you step away and walk in the opposite direction now," Finn suggests calmly.

"Oh, of course, yeah. I'm sorry, Rory," Doyle murmurs.

"It's okay, Doyle, really. Just go find Paris and talk to her," I say and smile at him as he nods and leaves.

"Wow, love, you attract quite the crowd, don't you?" Finn asks.

"Yeah, I guess," I say, looking around aimlessly.

"God, Rory, how much have you had? Do you even know where you are? Let me walk you home," he says, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"No, Finn," I say, fighting back tears.

"No what, love? Don't walk you home? Well, now, I can't do that. I'm not sure you'd make it there on your own, and Logan wouldn't be very happy with that, now would he?" He smiles down at me patiently.

"No, I mean, you can't walk me home. I don't have a home, I don't know where I'm going tonight," I start crying.

He looks at me concerned, but wraps me in a warm hug.

"Love, Rory! Calm down. What do you mean you don't have a home? I thought you were living with Logan?" He asks.

"I…I was. But then he had many blondes for Thanksgiving, and I broke up with him, I sob into his chest.

He hugs me even tighter then. "Oh, Rory, he's an idiot, you're going to be okay, love."

"Finn?" I ask after a few moments.

"Love?" He questions.

"Take me away. Somewhere far, far away from here," I suggest.

He smiles at me. "Your wish is my command, my lady," he says and leads me to his car and sweeps me away to Las Vegas.

I don't remember much of what happened in Vegas, but isn't that true of almost everyone who goes? I remember drinking more on the plane—thank God for private jets with fully stocked bars. I also know that neither Finn nor I stayed clothed the whole time we were flying over. I think we had sex on the plane, that's a first for me. Sleeping with Finn, having sex on a plane, sleeping with someone I hardly know because I was drunk, being drunk on a plane, going to Vegas. Yes, this was a weekend of firsts for me, to say the least. It was also the first time my boyfriend had cheated on me. It wasn't my proudest moment, but it happened, and I can't take it back now.

We hit the casinos at some point during our stay. I must have been doing well, because when I woke up there was $6,000 in my wallet. After this weekend, I am trying not to ask too many questions. I may just not want to know. About four hours into the drinking and the gambling, we decide it's a great idea to walk the streets of Vegas. We stumble past a chapel. Finn looks at me as seriously as anyone who has been drinking for over six hours, and gambling his trust fund away for the past four, could.

"I love you, Rory Gilmore," he proclaims and laughs.

I laugh and say, "I love you, too!" I'm drunk. I just love him in a platonic manner, and I think that's what he feels about me too, but you really don't think about schematics. He grins at me and pulls me into the chapel. That's when things go blank again.

I wake up the next morning, naked, in an unfamiliar hotel room with a nasty hangover. I groan and roll over only to bump into a hard fleshy surface. Of course, I do the first thing that pops into my mind, I scream.

"Ah, bloody hell, what was that for, woman!" Finn yells from his spot next to me.

Oh, no.

"Finn?" I ask.

"Rory? Oh no," he says, sitting up and looking up at me.

"Oh no, indeed," I retort.

"Are you okay, love?" He questions taking in my appearance.

I nod, but realize that was the worst course of action that I could take. I rush to the bathroom and throw up. Ugh, this is so not a good morning.

"Rory?" Finn asks from the doorway, I just groan but don't look up at him. "Are you okay?" He tries again.

"I'm dying!" I say.

He laughs and crouches down to rub circles over my back with one hand, and hands me a bottle of water he was holding in the other. He produces a foil packet and pops two Aspirin out of it. Complimentary in the hotel, I find out later. Not everyone thinks to bring a bottle with them. I drink the whole bottle of water after swallowing the pills. After a few moments, Finn pulls me into the bedroom of the suite.

"Rory, love, you should sit. We have something very important to discuss," Finn says seriously. I've never heard him be this serious before.

I just groan at him and lay my head on the bed.

"What do you remember about last night?" He asks.

I think for a minute. "Logan. Bridesmaids. Doyle. You're my hero, you saved me. Plane. Oh my God," I stop as I blush, remembering what happened on plane. "Um, casino, more drinking, chapel. OH MY GOD!" I yell, recognition hitting me.

"So, you do remember?" He asks.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" I freak out. "We're married? We have to get one of those things… an annulment! We need to get one of those. I barely know you, I can't be married to you! What will my mother say?"

"Well, doll, I think it might be a bit too late for an annulment," Finn says.

I just glare at him letting his words sink in. Of course it is, we had drunkenly slept together on the plane over. We had drunkenly got married. We woke up naked in bed with each other, so of course it was safe to presume we had consummated the marriage.

"Finn?" I ask tentatively.

"Yes, doll?" He says, almost shyly.

"What's my last name?"

It was then that I heard the knock on the door. I rose to answer it, and saw Finn standing on the other side.

"Hello, doll. Quite the do-wop group you have downstairs. Please tell me you have no aversion to moving?" He said as a greeting, before leaning down and kissing me gently.

"None whatsoever," I answer smiling at him.

"Good, I'll get the movers over here while we're in Stars Hollow," he said.

"Ugh, can't we just go back to Vegas," I ask him, slumping my shoulders.

Finn just laughs, "Come on, Mrs. Morgan, you need to introduce me to my mother-in-law."

Logan is standing by the couch staring at us. "Wait, what are we supposed to about this?"

I shrug my shoulders, and answer him the same way Finn answered me that first morning in Vegas, "We just go with it."

Logan stands there doing his best impersonation of a fish. I don't care, I wrap my arm around my husband's waist, and he slings his around my shoulders. We stride out of the apartment and to our future. Who knows if this is going to work or not. But it would take the lawyers years to settle a Gilmore-Hayden-Morgan divorce, and we're not worried about it. Mom is going to freak out, but she'll love the ring he bought me to make up for the cheap one we got while we were drunk. Everything else would have to wait until later. Right now, we're just going with it.

-Fin-