The Cut and the Band-aid.

A/N:

Background info: Rory and Logan have been together for about 5 or 6 months and work together at a paper in New York called the Adelphi gazette, which Logan is editor of.

I don't live in New York, nor have I ever been there. I'm a Londoner :D so I apologise if I ever say something about New York that makes no sense or is factually incorrect. Nor do I know anything about journalism :D

Also, the title probably won't make any sense now, but it will later. I'll shut up now.

'Justin Timberlake?'

'You'

'Hayden Christensen?'

'Hmm…that's a tough one, but I'd still say you'

'Elvis?'

'Elvis in which decade?'

'The 1950s'

'Oh, then I'd say Elvis wins'

'What?! You'd choose a soon-to-be drug addict and alcoholic who thrusts his groin around over me?'

'Well I'm sorry Logan, but Elvis the Pelvis was a rather attractive man when he was in his prime. Besides, it was your idea to play this stupid game just so you could hear about how gorgeous you to appease your ego.'

'Hey! I resent that remark.'

And so the couple continued to bicker. They were spending the day together in Rory's apartment- well, the apartment she shared with her best friends, Lo and Shaun- after a long, stressful week at work. Rory, Logan and the rest of the staff at the Adelphi Gazette had learned that the small newspaper was to encounter a sharp drop in funding, given the fall in circulation levels over the past month. The pressure was on to recapture the spirit of the paper, add to that Editor Logan's sudden bout of flu, throw in the assistant-editor's raving PMS, and you've got yourself a newsroom stress-level to rival that of the Yale Daily News on D-Day. But, by Friday, Logan's health had recovered, budgetary concerns were resolved and Francesca had finished menstruating. All seemed well with the world.

The sound of letters coming through the door interrupted their little quarrel. Rory untangled herself from Logan's arms, fought her way out of the dent she'd made in the couch by sitting in the same position for hours, and went to collect the mail.

'Anything interesting? Any love letters from Elvis?' Logan asked bitterly.

'Yeah, I frequently get letters from The King from beyond the grave.' Rory replied sarcastically. 'Are you gonna stop sulking about the fact that I find someone in the history of the world more attractive than you?' Logan merely crossed his arms sharply and turned his head to the side, looking away from her.

'Fine,' Rory continued, 'but I think you should also know that I am a rather ardent admirer of the Duke of Wellington. That uniform, the battle of Waterloo, mmm, it just turns me on.' Logan turned his head back to his girlfriend with a look of horror on his face.

'You're kidding, right? Please tell me that's a joke.' Rory only burst into laughter, to which Logan let out a sigh of relief. 'You think you're so funny, don't you? Freaking me out like that? Rory? What's up?' he asked, as Rory stared at one of the letters in her hands. Ignoring his questions, she quickly tore the envelope open and flicked her eyes, left to right, over the enclosed piece of paper. Her eyes steadily began bulging out of her head as she read each line.

'Rory? What's wrong, sweetie?' Logan asked calmly, slightly worried about what was written on that paper. Eventually, Rory stopped reading and looked up at him, confusion written all over her face.

'I got the job' she said weakly.

'Huh? What job, Ace?' Logan asked.

'Head of the Foreign Affairs section at the Manhattan Times'

'You applied for a job at the Manhattan Times?!' Logan couldn't remember the last time he said something that wasn't a question.

'Yep.' Rory answered, looking at the letter again, making sure it was actually addressed to her. 'And they've accepted.'

'When did you apply? And why didn't you tell me??' Logan was getting increasingly exasperated, so Rory sat down next to him and cupped his cheek with her hand, gently stroking his face. It always calmed him down.

'I didn't apply because I want to leave the Adelphi. I love working there.' She reassured him, 'but Dirk let me know of an opening at the Manhattan, and he asked if I wanted to apply. He said he thought I stood a good chance of getting it' she continued. Dirk owned the Adelphi, and dropped in every now and then to check the paper's progress. He was pretty much a middle-aged version of Logan, and had grown very fond of the young couple, particularly Rory. 'I told him I wasn't looking to change jobs just yet. But I thought the post looked interesting, I mean I love foreign affairs, so I just applied to see what the application process was like, you know, just to get some experience for when I do actually want to change jobs. I seriously didn't think they'd employ me. I didn't tell you, or anyone for that matter, except for Dirk, because I didn't want you to think I wasn't happy working for you.'

'But you didn't even go for an interview! Did they really make you head of a section just by looking at your CV?' Logan asked incredulously. He knew how accomplished his Ace was, and her CV was an extremely impressive read, but no newspaper he knew of, especially not the Manhattan Times, would employ people without an interview.

'I did have an interview.' Rory corrected him. 'Two Fridays ago. That day you wanted to have a picnic in Central Park.'

Realisation dawned on Logan's face. 'I knew you didn't go fishing with Finn!' he exclaimed.

'Well duh! I had to think of some excuse so I wouldn't have to tell you what I was really doing.'

'And the best you could do was 'fishing with Finn'?' Logan asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

'Well I always thought it'd be funny if Finn went fishing. Because fishes have fins.' Rory grinned to herself, 'and also because he'd be incredibly drunk, and it's always funny to watch him try something new.' Logan just stared at his girlfriend like she was crazy.

'So anyway,' Rory said, shaking her head clear of images of Finn trying to attach bait to his fishing line, 'I have to fill in this form and tell them I'm not accepting the job.'

'What?' Logan's head shot up.

'Congratulations. You've won a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for 'the most questions asked in the space of 10 minutes.'' Rory replied drolly. Logan just gave her an annoyed look.

'It's not my fault you're not explaining yourself properly. Why aren't you accepting the place? It's a great job!'

'I'm not giving up my job, I love it there!'

'But-'

'But nothing, Logan.' Rory said sternly, 'I'm not leaving the Adelphi, and that's that. I'll send off the reply slip tomorrow.' With that, she walked off into the kitchen. Logan sighed.

He had to make her take that job.