Disclaimer: Yeah, like I could really turn a profit off of this crap. As if! James Cameron, D.A. is all yours.

A/N: Okay, people, if you don't like the story, could you at least have the decency to tell me so that I can scrap it and not waste my life trying to come up with new ideas for it? Huh???

Setting: Crash. Just after Max left.

Herbal, Sketchy and Original Cindy stood watching Max's departing form for a moment before both men rounded on Original Cindy.

"So what was that all about?" Sketchy asked, crossing his arms and doing his best to look upon her disapprovingly; all the while imagining in his head what it would've looked like had the situation resulted in a cat fight.

"Look, y'all know that Original Cindy has been pushing this whole Max/Logan thing since, like, the beginning." Original Cindy said. Sketchy and Herbal nodded, indicating that she should continue. "But lately I've been rethinking it. I mean, Max's happiness as of late seems to be dependent on Hot Boy's mood swings, and Original Cindy just ain't down with seeing her boo mopin' just because Logan feeling sorry for himself. And what the hell is up with him blowing up her pager one minute and screening her calls the next. That ain't right." She bit the last part off with an extra bit of attitude. Sketchy nodded thoughtfully, while Herbal interceded.

"Maybe so," Herbal replied. "But I and I believe that is not our right to judge this man, for we know him not. Nor is it our place to interfere with matters of Max's heart."

"Thus proving its existence," Sketchy added. Original Cindy smacked him on the arm.

"We must not look down upon him now," Herbal continued. "When he is in the middle deepening his and Max's relationship, which is, considering the female, a strange and perplexing time, without also taking into account his past deeds." Original Cindy nodded and sighed.

"I guess you're right," Original Cindy capitulated. "But we keeping an eye on them just in case, right?"

"One eye?" Sketch answered. "Try six." The three nodded, an agreement finally being reached.

"Now," Herbal said. "Who's up for some pool?"

Cut To:

Fogle Towers. Logan's Bedroom. Approximately 10:00 pm

Max pressed herself in closer to Logan for what felt like the thousandth time. Her sobs had long since subsided, but she felt all puffy, and if she didn't clean herself up soon, she'd get snot all over Logan's front. He wouldn't mind, he was that sweet, but she'd never get over the embarrassment. She pulled away slowly, stumbling to her feet and padding into the bathroom, pointing her index finger up to silence Logan's protests. One minute. She shut the door behind her.

Logan sat back against the pillows. He was no longer worried about Max.

He was far past "worried." Worried was about 59 sobs ago. (He'd kept count. There wasn't much else he could do.)

He was more around "stir-crazy-desperate" a side of paranoia. What had happened between their passion-frenzied lunch date and... this? This was just... so wrong. Their lives had finally been falling into place, and now some one or something had come along and jeopardized it all.

No, he decided, he wouldn't lose Max. Wouldn't lose this peace that they'd finally found. Not for the world.

But first he had to get Max to talk to him.

Cut to:

Fogle Towers. Logan's bathroom.

Max closed the bathroom door softly behind her. She immediately pulled some bath tissue off of the roll and set about drying her eyes and clearing her nasal passages, intentionally avoiding her reflection in the mirror. She noticed black smears on the tissue. Her mascara. She'd forgotten that she'd been wearing any at Crash. And now it was probably spread across the upper half of her face.

And Logan's shirt is probably ruined, she thought dismally as she threw the paper in to the small metal trashcan in the corner. She turned now to the mirror to survey the damage.

It wasn't encouraging. Grey ripples formed two layers on her cheeks around her eyes, making her truly redefine the term "raccoon eyes." Her eyes themselves were red rimmed and swollen, as was her nose. She sighed.

That was when Logan knocked softly on the door.

"Max," His gentle tone floated to her, muffled by the door. "You okay in there."

"Yeah," she replied shortly, her tone mercifully light. "Just trying to get some of this mascara off of my face. I can't imagine what your shirt must look like from where I blubbered all over you."

"It's not that bad," he reassured her after a short pause. Max smiled at her ghoulish reflection in the mirror; he was such a bad liar.

"Look, I'll be in the kitchen, making tea. I have some sweats laid out on the bed if you want to change out of your club clothes."

"That'd be great, thanks." She turned on the cold water, wetting and lathering her hands. Then, bending over into the sink basin, she washed her face: Scrub, splash, scrub, splash, splash splash splash. She pulled back, face and hair dripping, after she felt the swelling in her eyes go down, soothed by the icy water.

Grabbing a towel, she rubbed the water away vigorously away. When she lowered the towel, she saw that her hair was now a wet, disorderly mess of curls. She considered fixing it, but decided against it, knowing that Logan would find it endearing. Tossing the towel into the hamper, she exited the bathroom, and changed into the sweats. Then she walked to the kitchen, ready to face the music.

Logan's back was to her when she joined him in the kitchen. He was browsing his vast assortment of teabags, kettle on the stove nearby. She crept up behind him, unnoticed, and placed her hand on his shoulder. He started ever so slightly before twisting to glance up at her.

"Hey," he greeted. "Do you think you could help me find the chamomile teabags? I have no idea how Bling stocks things in here." She smiled and, standing on tiptoes in order to reach over him, plucked the box in question almost immediately from the back of the cabinet. She presented it to him, grinning slightly.

"Huh," he said quizzically as he took the box from her, staring at it. "I wonder why I didn't notice that before." She ruffled her finger through his hair, and he pulled her hand down to kiss her finger tips. Slowly, Max leaned down so that her face was even with his. She pulled her hands from his mouth and placed them on either side of his face, drawing him in for a slow kiss.

They broke apart when the kettle let out a cheery screech from its perch on the stove. Logan wheeled back to the kettle and returned to the business of making tea. Max stood in place, trying to interpret the expression on Logan's face.

It wasn't until they were both settled in on the sofa with their cups of tea that Logan spoke again.

"So are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to guess?" The tense note in his voice told Max that avoiding the issue completely was the wrong choice at this particular juncture. So she tried for a semi-avoidance.

"Had a fight with Original Cindy," she told him with a shrug. Logan's eyebrows shot up.

"Seems like 'fight' is putting it lightly." Max turned her eyes away from his searching gaze.

"Max," his voice held a note of warning as he took her chin gently in his hands and turned her face towards him. "Talk to me. What did you two fight about?"

Max dropped her gaze from his once again, and he recoiled, taking up his mug once again.

"You," she whispered softly, eyes brimming once again. Logan froze, mug poised at his lips. "We fought about you. Or us. Or, whatever. I guess, what with everything that's been going on with us in the past month or so, one second we're fighting, the next we're closer than ever, then we're fighting again; well, she doesn't think that this is a good idea." He set the steaming mug of tea down carefully.

"Anyway, it's none of her business what you and I do," Max continued. Logan turned to her, taking her hands in his.

"Max, she's your friend, she's worried about you. Her opinion counts." Max looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Hey, I said that her opinion counts, I didn't say that she gets a vote." Max laughed, and Logan yanked her in close for a sweet kiss.

"Feel better?" Logan asked once they'd come up for air. Max smiled at him.

"A little," she admitted. "I'm not feeling all that forgiving, but maybe a bit more willing to negotiate."

"There's a good girl," Logan said mockingly, and covered her mouth with his before she had time to punch him.

TBC...

Sneak peek for Next Chapter:

Original Cindy: So we're agreed, then?

Sketchy: Yep. From now on, we take turns tailing Max.