Title: Nothing But Net

Rating: FRK
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or situations that are familiar to you
Spoilers: 1.16... I think, and anything else you might see.
Summary: With a game so tight, it almost always comes down to crunch time.

This took way too long to write.

"Powell to Bryant to Morrison, back to Bryant, who gives a courtlong pass to Stratford. Stratford has the net in her sights, one, two, thr-ahh!"

"And she's grabbed from behind and is so overcome with lust that she oh no! drops the ball and it bounces courtside into her dad's petunias! Foul!"

"You can't do that!" Kat laughed as she found herself backed against the garage door by her opponent. "This is basketball, not football. No touching; it's cheating," she said, breathing heavily from both exertion and laughter.

"We didn't lay out any ground rules," Patrick said, holding her wrists against the door.

Kat pursed her lips, "Ground rules? The standard rules apply."

Patrick shrugged good-naturedly, "They're more of guidelines than actual rules."

"Thank you very much, Jack Sparrow," Kat mocked, in an excellent mood, considering he just made her lose 2 points in what was bound to be a layup liable to rival Michael Jordan. "You're just a sore loser."

"Game's not over yet, sweetheart," Patrick said, kissing her than letting go to get the ball.

Kat straightened the straps of her sports tank, "Then why'd you tackle me?" she asked as Patrick retrieved the ball from a flowerbed.

"I like my sports physical," he said with a dark smirk, arriving at the designated centre faceoff, "Just wait till we play football."

Kat laughed off the promise, "You don't stand a chance. Football's in my blood."

"One, two, three," Patrick called out before throwing the ball in the air and knocking it away from Kat. "How so?" he said, dribbling the ball in a 180, avoiding Kat's attempts at taking it. "Dad doesn't strike me as the type."

Kat faked moving to one side, while Patrick turned another, "Uncle Jimmy, dad's brother," she said as she managed to steal the ball, "Ohio State champs 3 years running, when he played."

Kat was quick and agile, but Patrick had longer legs and arms, and easily maneuvered himself between her and the hoop, and batted the ball away from her when she dribbled. "Is this the same uncle that dad lives vicariously through?"

Kat laughed and scrunched up her nose when Patrick dodged her attempts and landed himself 2 points. "Yup. Captain of the Football team, President of Student Council... the popular one."

Patrick lifted up his t-shirt to wipe his face, "So B's this uncle and you're your dad."

Kat grabbed the ball and moved back into the imaginary faceoff circle, curling her lip, "If you want to put it that way, I guess."

"Truly frightening," Patrick said earning a glare before Kat counted off. He also earned himself an elbow to the ribs, allowing Kat to steal.

"That's cheating."

Kat managed a successful layup, "Guidelines."

Patrick gave an amused smile as she chucked the ball at him to faceoff again. "I'll show you guidelines," he said as he didn't bother to faceoff, just netting the ball where he stood. It was an amazing shot considering it was nearly nine at night with their only light coming from streetlights and the porch.

Kat clapped, fetching the ball, "Ooohh, I'm impressed."

"You're not the only one with athletic genes," Patrick said, quirking an arrogant eyebrow. Once she made her way back to him, Pat elaborated, "Mom was a Captain in college. She might not be the tallest, but she's got mad skills. Taught me all she knew."

Kat listening enthralled, as Patrick spoke about his mom. He didn't talk family often, but when he did it was always about how awesome his mom was. "And her little boy didn't follow in her footsteps?"

"I did," Patrick assured, running his fingers through his hair, "For a few years, anyway. Then everything with my dad... I stopped."

Kat nodded, getting the picture. In the one month they were actually dating, she had learned that not only was Patrick's mom a dance instructor, and apparently rocked at basketball, but that Patrick's dad had been military, and died overseas in Afghanistan when he was 11. From what she could gather, Patrick had been an active social boy until his father's sudden death, subsequently around the time most males hit puberty. Once the teen years smacked into him, he had already patented the brooding Captain Intensity persona, and a stepdad came into the picture.

"And here we are today," Kat said, hoping to change the mood back into what it was before.

Patrick took the out, "Yup, and I'm still kicking your fine behind."

Kat smiled, "Oh? You thought you were winning? That's so cute," she said, turning around and swaying her hips as she moved to faceoff again.

Patrick lined up across her, "You weren't winning. Score is 67-58."

Kat threw up the ball, but Patrick managed to steal, "Yeah, you being 58."

"No," he said, faking a shot in one direction, then going around her in another. He sunk it for two points. "Oh, look, 69...my favourite number."

Kat curled her lip and chucked the ball at his gut, "Ugh, you're a pig. And you're still at 58, that fictional number that you just thought up two seconds ago."

Patrick chucked the ball right back, "How do you know it was fictional? You weren't keeping score."

"Neither were you!" Kat accused, faking a throw at him only to turn and throw it at the hoop. Her angle was wrong, which she knew, and the ball bounced off the top of the backboard.

Patrick retrieved the ball, then stood in the previous location in which he had sunk his miracle shot earlier, "Come here."

Kat crossed her arms, "You are not teaching me." The last guy who attempted to teach her something ended up with a bloody nose from her fist.

Patrick spun the ball on his index finger, "Just a few tips, come on."

"I don't need tips," Kat stressed, even if she was a little interested in what he had to say. It would be pretty cool to land something from that far.

"Alright, gimme an excuse to feel you up then; come here."

Kat rolled her eyes mockingly, but did move to stand beside him and take the ball. "Dead centre," he said, as he moved her by the shoulders to stand exactly centre with the hoop. Thinking of his previous comment, she even allowed him the liberty to line her hips up with the net using his own hips. "Now, when you throw, put a little hop in there. You need momentum, not a lot, but some. Make sure you're arm is lined up with the basket. Whenever you're ready."

Kat pursed her lips, but eyed the basket, "This would be easier if you weren't whispering in my ear."

He chuckled and the sound sent pleasant shudders down her spine, "Do I make you nervous?"

"No," she said matter-of-factly. Patrick Verona did many things to her, but he never made her nervous.

"Do I excite you?" he asked, accentuating the word like it was something sinful.

Kat barked out a laugh, not only because it was hilarious that he even said that, but to cover up a little giggly tremor. "Let me take this shot and I'll answer that."

"Fine by me," was all he said and backed away.

Concentrating on the basket, Kat did as she was told. She lined herself up, took a run-though then made her shot. The ball was nearly perfect, but it was just shy and bounced off the rim.

"I guess that's a no."

Patrick jogged after the ball and returned it to her. "One more, you almost had it."

Kat huffed, but went through the motions, this time putting a bit more momentum in. Nailed it.

"Yes!" she cried, giving the world two peace signs. "I did it, sweet mother! Did you see that?" she said to Patrick, turning around to wrap her arms around his neck. "Wow, you are very good." The ball bounced out of the driveway and came to a halt against the front tire of his bike, parked just off to the side in front of the house.

Patrick inclined his head and put his hands in her butt pockets, "I didn't make the shot, you did."

"You taught me."

He shook his head, "I didn't say anything that a Gym teacher wouldn't say."

Kat furrowed her brow, "Then how'd I do it? I've never did that in my life."

Patrick shrugged, "I asked my mom that too, when she said she didn't do anything special. Apparently, the key is to just concentrate and hope it works."

"Well then, Momma Verona knows her stuff."

Patrick nodded, "Where do you think I get my brains from?"

Kat laughed, "Ego also come from her?"

"Nah, that's my own."

Kat nodded as Patrick began to rock her from side to side in the middle of the driveway. Unwillingly, her mind began to wonder at the conversation. Patrick's mom sounded like one very cool lady; smart with mad skills, who also had fancy footwork as an instructor. It was still little to go on, and it had taken her forever to get just that out of him, but the fact remained that a month was a little long to be dating someone and not meet a parent. She doubted it was something to do with her, Patrick just liked to keep things close to the chest, but sometime, she was going to have to ask that dreaded question.

"I know what you're thinking," Patrick murmured into her hair, breaking a silence that was all of, maybe, 60 seconds long.

"Do you?" Kat cryptically asked, knowing somehow, Patrick had managed to develop some way of knowing what she had rattling around up there.

Patrick exhaled out his nose, "You want to meet my mom," he said in a monotone voice that kinda sounded like resignation.

"Technically, no," Kat informed, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, "That's not what I was thinking. I was thinking that... whenever you want me to meet her, I will."

He gave her a dubious look, "Semantics."

Kat shook her head, "Tru'fax. I mean... if it gets to be months from now, I might get the idea that there is something heinously wrong with me but I'm sure I can cope."

Patrick gave a small smile, "There's nothing wrong with you, I'm just..." he hesitated, "My mom doesn't exactly know about you..."

Kat leaned back to get him a good look, "You haven't told her?" When he looked guilty, Kat repeated herself, "You haven't told her!"

Patrick backed away from her like he feared being bodily harmed, "I know, I'm just figuring out how to tell her."

"Because 'Mom, I'm seeing this girl' isn't straightforward enough?" Kat hissed. Unbelievable. Her dad knew about Patrick before she was even involved with him, and now she learns that his mom doesn't even know she existed?

Patrick ran a hand through his hair, "It's not that easy."

Kat forcefully crossed her arms, "Enlighten me, then." It wasn't their first fight - God knows how many they'd had – but it was the first disagreement that actually meant something. "What part of 'Hey mom, I got this girlfriend...' isn't easy?"

"Nothing about this is easy, Kat," Patrick said, sounding sincere."You know that."

Feeling the sudden shift that always managed to happen between them, Kat took a few deep breaths. He was right; nothing about their relationship was easy. When you have two people so alike yet so different, everything was going to be a undertaking, even the making up portion was a power struggle; both wanted to be on top, and logistically, that was impossible (yes they'd done that, thank you very much) but the point remained that her and Patrick were the most complicated people that shouldn't have been together, but were, and they had to deal with those complications as one.

"Alright, just help me understand," Kat said, trying to sort out this disagreement, "You haven't told your mom because...?"

Patrick didn't say anything, just put out his hands like it was answer enough.

"Because you don't want it known that you actually have a steady girlfriend...?"Kat offered.

Patrick shook his head, "No, that's not-"

"Because you are ashamed of me, somehow...?

Patrick shook his head again, and put his hands out in a 'you can't be serious' manner, "Come on, Kat, no-"

Kat pursed her lips, getting a tad aggravated, "Because I'm not some little hussy that-"

"Because she'll love you."

Kat stopped mid-sentence, surprised. If she had bangs, her eyebrows would have disappeared underneath them. "What?"

Patrick approached her as someone walking their dog passed the Stratford residence on the sidewalk. "She'll love you. The second she sees you she'll slap me across the head and say 'It's about time' and insist you tell her your life story. She'll be absolutely crazy about you and then, one day, I'll come home and break her heart and tell her that we broke up, 'cause we know it's going to happen."

Kat furrowed her brow, "Well, aren't you Mr. Optimistic." She was offended, but she was also relieved that he was the one who brought up the obvious. They didn't stand a chance, not only because of their differences, but because that was just how it worked for teenagers. Rarely did a teenage romance last forever, and given who they were, and their different goals in life – her's: college, his: unknown – she doubt it would even last a couple more months, hell, maybe even not till next week.

But that didn't mean she was against trying.

"It's gonna happen, Kat."

Kat pinched the bridge of her nose, "So what? Yes the odds are against us. I'd say our survival rate is about 3%, and that's bad. So what? How cares? You don't care about the future, why start now?" Normally, Kat was big on plans and futures and 'what nexts' but she quickly figured out, never plan anything when dating Patrick Verona. Anything you had in mind would be doomed to fail. It paralleled lovely with their relationship.

"Just being realistic."

"Don't. It doesn't suit you."

Patrick smirked and moved past her to retrieve the forgotten ball that sat motionless against his bike tire. He bumped her hip with his when he passed. "So does this mean you're cool with my mom not knowing?"

Kat pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, "Tell her soon, or I might drop by for a surprise visit, and you don't want that."

Patrick cocked an eyebrow, "I don't?" he said, like he already had ideas of what to do with her once she got there.

"No," Kat shook her head, "I'll bring my dad. He'd love to meet your family."

Patrick snorted and bounced the ball to her, clearly taking the remark as a threat. "You're a cruel woman; I like it."

Kat dribbled the ball between her legs, "Let's see if you still like it when I take back those 69 points that are rightfully mine." They'd discussed enough for today.

For people not big on talking things out, they'd made some progress.

Author's Note: I know nothing about basketball other than the basics. ~ Summary has almost nothing to do with the plot LOLZ! ~ This took ages to write 'cause my Katrick bug all but died when the finale came :( ~ I have two more Katrick's in the works, and like five other ideas. Those five won't be written. I'm sorry. Blame ABCF.