Disclaimer: I don't own 10 Things I Hate About You (if I did it wouldn't be cancelled!), so please don't take any sort of legal action against me. I'm poor enough as it is. :)

A/N: Sorry if this has been done before, but I couldn't help but add a bit to the Fight For Your Right episode. Spoilers for that episode, obviously, and I guess for Don't Leave Me This Way too, probably. I suck at titles so I take the easy way out & use song titles. This one's by an awesome band called Ludo; if you haven't heard them, go listen to them now. Well, read my story, then go listen to them. :)

2nd Note: Thank you to Darkestpowerslover234 for pointing out the bizarre lack of quotation marks at the end of the story there. I don't know what happened. I think I fixed it all up now; hopefully it reads a little better now!

Patrick was sitting on his bike, parked on a cliff overlooking the city. After his fight with Kat, he didn't want to go home. So he drove around for a while and somehow ended up here. It was nice, with all the lights from houses and cars blinking on and off randomly; it was somewhere he'd have liked to take Kat. He smiled, thinking how she'd probably go on a rant about all the electricity people waste. Suddenly, his phone was vibrating in his jacket pocket. He took it out and looked at the caller ID-it was her. Why would she be calling him? He knew her well enough to know she wasn't calling to apologize. Did she need help breaking up her sister's party or something? Did she actually dare to ask him for help after how she had treated him earlier that night? There was only one way to find out. He flicked the phone open. "Yeah?"

There was no answer for a second or two. He glanced at the phone to make sure the call hadn't been lost. "Kat?" he said.

"Patrick!" she cried at last, as if she had forgotten who she called. "Patrick, I'm so glad it's you. I wanted to call you to tell you something."

Was she...was she drunk? The idea was so farcical that Patrick actually let out a laugh as he answered. "Are you drunk-dialing me, Kat Stratford?"

"No, no, no!" She protested. "Come over so I can tell you something."

Okay, she was definitely drunk. "Kat, I'm not coming back over there. Why can't you tell me over the phone?"

"Because I need to do it in person."

"Why?"

"Because I just do!"

He could hear Kat's sister in the background, begging for help or something. Kat pulled the phone away and said in what she probably thought was a whisper "I am on the phone!" Suddenly, there was a noise like the phone was dropped, then the line went dead.

Patrick hesitated. He really didn't want to go see Kat make an idiot of herself. Yes, normally, there was nothing he'd like more than to see her taken down a peg. But he really didn't want to come running every time she called, especially when they had just had a fight that was completely her fault. Well, mostly her fault. Patrick sighed, turning on his motorcycle and heading to the Stratford's house for the second time that night.

When Patrick walked through the front door, Kat was dancing on top of her coffee table to a Timbaland song or some crap like that. All eyes were on her as she moved to the music. The way the guys in the room were ogling her made Patrick's blood boil; how dare they objectify her like that? If he hadn't been so upset, he would have thought something snarky, like only I'm allowed to objectify her like that, but at the moment all he could think of was getting her out of the spotlight, so to speak. Suddenly, she spun around and saw him standing in the corner of the room. "Verona!" she cried out. She dove off the table, landing ungracefully in a heap by his feet. She stood unsteadily and wrapped her arms around him. He could smell the tequila on her breath.

"Let's go somewhere a little quieter, huh?" he said, pushing her away and taking her hand to lead her outside. It was hard to find a quiet spot, but they walked a little ways from the house and sat on the curb next to his bike.

As he helped her sit down, making sure she wasn't going to stumble again, she sneered. "This is so patronizing."

Patrick laughed. "Leave it to you to use big words when you're smashed."

"I don't think so," she cried in a sing-song voice. Patrick gave her a look that said Come on, who are you trying to fool? She crinkled up her nose and nodded. "Yeah, I'm totally smashed. Not little miss perfect anymore, am I?" Patrick cringed. She had been trying to prove something to him. Whether she realized it or not, she had taken his comments about her being perfect really seriously.

The fresh air was doing her a little good. She seemed to remember why he was there, at least. "I didn't think you were going to come," she said. "I thought you maybe never wanted to see me again."

"If I never saw you again, what would I do with myself?" Patrick asked. "I mean, I'd have to start hanging out with girls who actually liked me."

"Like you could find one!" Kat giggled.

"Ooh, see that, there!" He said. "Who needs affection when you have blind hatred? So...I think you said you had something you wanted to tell me?"

Kat nodded, looking like she was trying very hard to keep her mind focused. "I need to tell you..." she stopped, looking a little pale. She tried starting again, "I wanted to tell you...hold my hair!" Suddenly she leaned over and started puking.

"Good to know," Patrick said as he dutifully held her hair back. As she wretched helplessly, Patrick tried to soothe her, rubbing her back softly. He noticed people start pouring out of Kat's house. He wasn't sure what happened, but it looked like the party was over. When Kat stopped puking, she held out her hand so Patrick could help her up. Without another word, he led her into the now quiet house. Bianca and that Mimbo (the male bimbo, the model wannabe, whatever his name was) were awkwardly saying goodbye. As the Mimbo left, Patrick helped Kat lay down on the couch. He ran up the stairs to Kat's room and grabbed a pillow and blanket from her bed and brought them back downstairs. When he did, Kat was sitting up on the couch, intently scribbling on her arm with a sharpie she had found.

"What are you doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you I wanted to tell you something!" she grinned as she held out her handiwork for him to see.

"I heart Patrick..." he read. He glanced around. Bianca was nowhere to be found. He knew Kat would never remember this night. He smiled and took off his jacket, exposing his own bare arm. Grabbing the pen from Kat, he uncapped it and wrote in his own messy scrawl, I heart Kat. She squinted at it, clearly having a hard time focusing on the words, but when she finally realized what it said, she giggled. She kept giggling as Patrick made her lay back down on the couch and he tucked the blanket around her.

As he left the Stratford house for the second time that night, Patrick couldn't help but wonder how long he could go without washing his arm.

End Note: Yes, I couldn't help but throw in a bit from the movie too. :) Reviews are blissful!