A/N: hey...thank you for the reviews! umm lets see. okay, so in the last chapter i said i was excited for this chapter. upon further evaluation and editing i realize that yeah..not so much. im going to leave it as is, because i sort of like what it builds, but if i develop a passionate hate for it, dont be surprised if a new chapter is up. semi-smutty ish - - where do you draw the line - - at the end. its sort of bleh. tell me what you think. OH! and tomorrow is my bday..the big one-six. translation : driving! leave me lots of reviews for a fun bday present? because you love me...no?..okay. long enough ramble. enjoy and review.

chapter nine (their hate don't belong to you)

She held her heels in one hand as she stomped up the stairs to her bedroom. He followed behind close, not going to lose this argument.

She disappeared into her large connecting closet and bathroom and he went to stand in the doorway, leaning on the door frame. He watched her throw her heels with one hand into her closet, wincing when they collided with the wall.

"That'll leave a mark," he said.

"I don't give a shit! God, you're infuriating!" Her yell was partly drowned out by the thunder outside. Great, the weather matched both of their moods, hers angry, and his glum, he thought. Perfect.

"I thought you said you were fine," he reasoned quietly.

"Do I look fine to you, Logan?"

She pulled her blouse over her head to change her clothes, still in the skirt and blouse combo she had chosen to wear to work that day. His resolve was fading when he saw the black lace bra seem to blend into her creamy, pale skin.

"Look, I know my family was just…way off. I know I should have said something to defend you, but I knew you wanted to do it on your own. They shouldn't have this much control on our lives," he caught her gaze and finished quickly, "and they don't, but I don't want them to ruin this relationship."

She laughed, turning to look at him. "What relationship? Jesus, let's do a recap, shall we?" He looked away, not knowing if he really wanted to hear what she was going to say.

"First, we didn't even have one of those sickeningly sweet meetings. We met at a bar, romantic, isn't it, and had a one night stand, followed by a six month no-strings relationship. Great start, I must say. Then, you issued an ultimatum, which I accepted and we hashed this all out a few weeks ago that it was a relationship, when we both knew that there were more strings the first night than there are now! Which brings us to the present. Dinner at your parents' house, where I was accused of being a gold digger and a slut, which are both untrue. So, do tell, how is this a fun relationship that you want to stay in?"

He had gotten angrier with each point she made. She was right, he knew, but he thought that they were getting on a better footing than they had been on.

"Hey, I didn't mean for it to be an ultimatum! You left me no other choice! Your complete indifference for me, going out with other men, not even daring to look at me whenever I was around!"

"Were we not in a no-strings relationship or was I just not there for this little memo you seem to have given out about our relationship?" He had her cornered against a wall, both gasping for breath after their screaming match.

He pushed her against the wall, grasping her upper arms, their faces centimeters apart. "God, don't you get it?" he growled, unconsciously pushing her farther and farther back into the wall, a light switching digging into her back.

"Logan, it hurts," she whispered, trying to make him let go.

"Rory, I'm in fucking love with you and you don't even care!" He had her as far as she could go against the wall, still pushing her, hands still wrapped around her upper arms, sure to leave bruises.

"Logan," she whispered again, "you're hurting me."

"You hurt me everyday, Rory," he said, not understanding the gravity of her statement.

"Logan," she repeated. She looked at his hand enclosing her arm. "You're scaring me."

He looked down to where her gaze fell and promptly let go, "Christ." Without the sudden support holding her to the wall, she collapsed, sliding down to the carpet. He crouched down next to her, taking her hands in his, before he admitted defeat and sat on the floor next to us.

"God, what's happened to us."

She slid onto his lap, over his legs which were crossed Indian style, her legs draped on either side of his hips, coming to tangle together behind his back. Her hands found their way into his hair, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, smoothing her hands through it with grace and ease, calming him down with whispers in his ear.

"It's okay, Logan. Look at us, we'll be okay. We've made it, haven't we?"

Her hands moved to cup his face, and she crouched slightly to meet his eyes, "Look at me," she said firmly. "Next time you want to hurt me, make sure I at least get something out of it other than a bruise. Make sure I enjoy it, okay?"

He smirked at her innuendo, but not feeling any better about his previous actions.

She sighed, knowing what he was thinking. Yes, they were on the floor of her closet, her bathroom just outside the small door. Yes, he had hurt her physically, but she was sure by his confession that she had inflicted more pain on him than she could know.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the one thing that she had only just admitted to herself. She affixed her cherry-red lips on his ear and in a ghost of a whisper, murmured, "I love you. You know I do. It's just…me and relationships aren't exactly known for being successful."

He wrapped his arms around her lower back, bringing her closer to him. He began rubbing circle on the skin of her back, bare except for her bra, feeling the small indentation of the light switch and wishing he could take it all back. "How so?" he asked.

"Pick a relationship that's not me and my mother." He already knew they were close.

"Okay, you and your dad," he said simply, not expecting much.

She smirked, "Ah, the beginning of it all." Her face fell, so she was almost frowning and he caught her eye to tell her to keep going. "Dad wasn't ever there, really. My mom got pregnant with me when she was sixteen, and he just sort of bolted. He tried to come back a few times, but ended up just leaving again. So I haven't talked to him since I was sixteen, except for once during college when he came to Yale to try to get me to come stay with him for a week to meet his new daughter. Basically, Mom raised me on my own."

"See, we're more alike than we know. We both hate our fathers."

Tears were in her eyes, "Do you know how many times he lied to me, how many promises he broke? So many." One tear fell on his shirt and he pulled her closer, now pressed chest to chest, her legs tangled behind his back in some complex way. Her head dropped on his shoulder and he smoothed down her hair.

She laughed, "We're in my closet."

He smirked, "It's a nice closet," he said, looking around. She pulled away and smacked his shoulder.

"Shut up," she said, laughing again. She didn't know how they could go from screaming at one another one moment to laughing the next. It's something they had always done.

"Hey," he said quietly, moving his hands up to cup her neck and lift her face to his. "I'm sorry."

There was so much in those two words she didn't know where to begin. He was sorry for his parents, for yelling, for unintentionally hurting her. She placed a kiss on his lips, "It's okay."

"Do you really not like our relationship?" he asked seriously.

"I was angry, Logan. Don't hold it against me." He looked at her. "Sometimes, yes, okay? I see other couples and its like they've had such an easier relationship than ours. Are you okay with it?"

"Yeah, I am. We needed to ease into it, I think. I mean you just said relationships are hard for you, and I don't really do relationships, this is my first. But I do know that for the past two nights, I've been at my house by myself, and I don't like it. Not after spending a week in your bed."

She blushed, "It wasn't a week in my bed."

He smirked, "Fine, after spending my nights for a week in your bed."

"Thank you."

"Fight over?"

She played innocence, "Was that a fight?"

His smirk grew, "Do you know what that means?"

She laughed as he picked himself up off the ground with her still wrapped intricately around his torso. "Do tell, Mr. Huntzberger."

"I think I can show you." He stood upright and shifted under her weight, and at that moment, she caught his earlobe between her teeth, catching him off guard. They fell into her wardrobe, knocking down a rod of hangers that held her work clothes.

She laughed into his ear, "You're ironing my shirt tomorrow."

"Anything that the lady asks."

"Cheesy," she groaned. She grabbed a shirt that had fallen into her bent knees around his waist and threw it on the ground, moving her lips to behind his ear and down his neck. He took them through her closet and into the bathroom, setting her on a small vanity table she had in the corner. He watched her in amazement as she bit her lip, hands smoothing over his chest before finding the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers moved precariously to unbutton his shirt, moving as if she had never done this before, as if it were the first time.

That's the effect he had on her. Every time they were ever together, she always felt something new, something she had never felt before.

His lips trailed down the concave of her collarbone to the valley of her breasts and she arched into him. His skilled fingers were making their way to the zipper of her skirt and hers to his belt buckle.

She trailed her lips up his chest, pressing butterfly kisses into his shoulder, moving up to his ear. "Bedroom," she murmured.

He obliged, and when he picked her up, her skirt fell before she could wrap her legs around him to catch it. Too caught up to notice she continued her trail of open mouth kisses down his throat, curving over his adam's apple. "Four days," she said against his skin.

"Four days what?" he stopped walking, looking into her eyes.

"Since we've been together. Too long."

Smirking at her, he trailed kisses up her jaw bone,"Addicted to me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am." He silenced her with a searing kiss on her lips and she forgot everything she was going to say.

They walked through her bathroom and into her bedroom to where he laid her on her bed, or more appropriately, their bed. She knew if they ever broke up, she would be buying new one, not being able to bear the thought of sleeping in a place where they were once what they were. Hell, she'd probably move.

He slipped off his pants and shoes and socks before climbing up to her. She reached up and slid her arm around his neck, his lips crashing into hers before he comfortably slid on top of her. She smirked his infamous smirk and he laughed before reaching behind her to her back and unhooking her bra, sliding it off and dropping it on the floor beside the bed.

Suddenly, she didn't want to deal with this mindless foreplay. She wanted him, yes, so much, and dare she say it again, loved him. But tonight was not the night for the romantic love-making in all the books, she just wanted to feel him.

She gripped his chin to make him look at her, and she let go to tangle her hands with his, bringing them to rest on her chest. "Now," she murmured.

He understood. He too had felt the change in the mood, though didn't want to mention it, lest it drove her away. He already had to reel her back into him tonight, and he didn't want to fail the second time around. So with a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, his restraints were cut and he kissed her forcefully, barely giving her time to catch her breath.

He slid down her body, taking her panties with him, and he smirked as he made his way back up her body. Her own hands slipped down his torso, his muscles convulsing at the soft touch, and she tugged on his boxers before they fell down. She hummed her approval as her hands rested on his shoulders and he kissed her again soundly on the lips before he slid into her deftly, knowing her every feel, every touch she needed, as if it were written in Braille for him to decode since the very beginning.

"Fuck," she murmured and he voiced his own agreement. One hand gripped her waist and the other held him up on the sheets while her legs wrapped around him and her hands tangled in his hair by the fistful. A passing thought that she had, the only one she would remember would be that she finally figured out why his hair was so messy sometimes during the day after little midday escapades they had begun to have at the office while they worked together. She did it.

All thoughts left her mind as he surged into her again, again, again and again. There was one constant that night that remained steady with every other night, past the fights and hurt and screaming until they both went hoarse. The one reason they could always be together.

Him and her left tired and breathless in between sheets, holding on to each other for dear life.