Part of the First Annual RL Fic Exchange. This fic was written for Sarah (Mooncat), whom I hope enjoys and thinks I did her prompt justice. I tried to be faithful to her prompt as much as I could. The fic is 4 chapters long, and at the end of the last I will post the prompt for everyone to see.

Big thank you to Nicole for walking through the plotting process with me, and to Tati for always being such an awesome beta. :)

Enjoy!


"Rory, watch out!"

"Aghhhh!"

Anger

"Screw you, Logan."

She'd walked out of the loft an hour ago, and he was still fuming. The fact that she felt she could throw his lifestyle in his face, and not consider that it would upset him, was infuriating. And then on top of it, she feigned surprise as his reaction started to unravel. And her own indignation at his angry outburst pissed him off all over again. What right did she have to be mad at him for throwing back in her face what she'd thrown at him? At least he'd proudly owned up to it. Instead, she'd gotten defensive and tried to backtrack the meaning of her words.

It was meant to be funny…But you were making fun of these people all night…I didn't judgeeveryoneThat's not what I meant…I didn't think you would take it personally…It's not like I live off a $5 million trust fund that my parents set up for me…

Sure. All excuses to make herself come out of it smelling like roses. She completely failed to include herself as a part of the demographic she had written about, and proceeded to attempt to be apologetic about her opinions.

He jumped on the recently made bed, not caring of how neatly she'd arranged the pillows over the partially exposed decorative sheets. It was too fucking early, and she'd been so hyped up on coffee that the last three hours of sleep hadn't been much rest to him as he heard her type away. So maybe catching another hour's sleep wouldn't be so bad.

He got under the covers again, beautifully made bed be damned, and attempted to fall back asleep. Once there, he found himself unable to stop tossing and turning, too riled up from the argument, and too wound up from the cup and a half of coffee. It didn't help matters when once he was able to lie still and close his eyes, all he could think about was Rory's criticisms.

It's not like I live off a $5 million trust fund that my parents set up for me…

Those words. They ate at him. Fine, that might have been the case when he was younger and having fun those last few moments of unrestricted freedom in his hands, but he'd worked – hard – since he'd left for London. There had been no time for fun and games. He had taken his position seriously, the need to remain in his father's good graces important in order to secure his hasty return stateside. To ensure he was only away from home for as long as it was necessary and not a day more.

It was part of the fine print in the Huntzberger heir contract, signed with the blood of his umbilical cord. There were be moments of acute distress in that role, from very early on. The only benefit that came with the role was the trust fund, and the liberties it allowed him. He'd never made a secret of that to her. He'd always exposed that as an ingrained part of himself, a part that she'd up till now always seemed to accept. He did not understand where her sudden judgment and opinions stemmed from, when she so clearly knew he was a part of that world, and she was too, even before meeting him. While there was a time where she had much less than what she enjoyed now, she'd certainly learned to transition without much fuss.

Truth was, it hurt that she could have such unfavorable views of him, and that she'd as soon classify him as she would wash her hands of having anything to do with that kind of society. The piece had been a soundboard for her, and along with everything, she'd now also made her views public.

Logan decided it was best to get up and shower. There was no way he was going to be able to catch up on sleep for today. He didn't bother making the bed, or even arranging the covers or pillows, leaving everything a tangled mess. Even in the shower he couldn't get their argument out of his head. He kept going back to how she'd expressed her opinions.

But she had apologized – immediately. Logan thought back to how she'd defended the point she'd attempted to make, which was far from the point he accused her of expressing. Knowing Rory, she was never one to make such disparaging remarks, much less so carelessly and openly. He wanted to believe her apology. She'd said it so sincerely, but instead he'd counterstriked, hit her where he knew it would hurt. In reality, it had been unnecessary. There was no need for an even playing field. Livid as he was, he could have accepted that apology and waited for his ire to subside, instead of running her out of their home. Their home, because he'd made sure it remained their home while he was away these months. There was nothing he wanted to change about their arrangement. No reason for saying what he'd said to her.

Maybe going out for a walk would be a good thing. That way, when they both walked back into the loft, they'd both likely had gotten the aggression of the argument out of their systems, and would be ready to kiss and make up.

With all the stress he'd gone through recently, the last thing he wanted out of this weekend was to go back to London while they were barely speaking to Rory. He'd already lost time today with this whole stupid argument when he'd hoped to go apartment hunting after spending some quality time with her. If he chose to, it'd give him a whole other reason to be pissed with her, but he figured it wouldn't be worth it. It would be one more day lost when he could have spent it being productive. He had so little time that getting irate with her would only cause him more hold ups to other things he needed to be sure were done.

When he came home after a couple of drinks at the pub and a run to the store, he'd been expecting to find her in the living room with a book open and a highlighter in her hand. He didn't find her, though. He came home to an apartment that was as still and as quiet as when he'd left it.

He thought to himself for a moment. He could chose to get mad all over again – this time at how passive aggressive she was acting, on top of judgmental, or he could chose to look at things with a more even-tempered perspective and apologize when she came home, with a peace offering in the form of food on the table.

He went to the kitchen drawer where she kept her take out menus, and pulled out the one he was looking for. Indian food. He was actually in the mood for Italian, and he'd prefer Thai if they had to do curry. But last night she'd been craving it, and had to go to bed without it because of the hour they'd finally made it home.

After calling in the order, he figured he'd walk to pick it up and stop by the flower shop to get Rory a pretty bouquet to go along with her dinner. When he walked back in the door and tried to hang his jacket, he realized she'd moved the coat rack, and was suddenly irate about it. Had it bothered her so much where he had placed it outside of the hallway but next to the door? After doing a 360 degree turn he realized she'd moved it to the other side of the door, inside the entering hallway.

He took a deep breath. The coat rack was in a good place, probably more out of the way now. It was only reasonable that she would move a few things to a location that pleased her more, and made the loft space more comfortable to her needs. It was her home, after all. A home he didn't her out of, no matter what asinine choice of words he'd used. He took the time to take another deep breath, and then another. Had he been picking a stupid fight with her? Since when had he been this irritable with such irrelevant, unimportant shit?

He noticed he'd been annoyed with her before she'd arrived to the party the night before. And that she'd thought of making the bed while he was in the bathroom that morning, when what he wanted to do was to get back under the covers with her. He'd been getting annoyed with her since he arrived from London.

He sighed. In all fairness, he had been a tad hyper-sensitive. Especially considering how she had apologized through his rant, insisting that it wasn't her intention to offend, and that it hadn't been her point. He'd dissected every phrase and word out of her, and twisted it to serve his argument against her.

What had he done? No wonder she hadn't come home. The reality of the whole situation hit him. He'd been a total and complete jackass to her. He wouldn't want to come home to him, either. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to call her.