There are only a very few moments in a person's life that can really be called perfect. Perfect is hard to achieve. Perfect is picky. It means that a person can think of absolutely nothing that could improve that moment in time. Nothing needed to be added. Nothing was missing. Nothing was looming dreadfully on the horizon, towering over a person's head so heavily it made perfect impossible.
Kat thought that she would most likely remember this very moment as her first perfect one. A perfect point in time where she had everything she needed, wanted and loved right at her fingertips.
Patrick shifted under her and she raised her head to look up at his face. They were in the living room, curled up on the couch. He was on his back and she had draped herself over him.
It was raining. Not a hard, scary kind of rain, but a light, determined drizzle that just lingered on all day. Normally it depressed her, that kind of weather. But today as she snuggled down deeper into the warmth of his body, it just added to her comfort. The curtains were opened and both of them were silently staring out the window, lost in their own thoughts.
They had just recently quit working for the day. They were down to painting the walls and since it was raining, it would have to wait until it cleared. So they caught a break and were doing their best to enjoy it.
His hands were running lazily through her hair and she put her head back down to his chest right over his heart so she could listen to its steady, reassuring beat.
There was still a part of her, even four weeks after everything that had happened, that truly believe that he was still going to be snatched away from her at any second. She couldn't help it. Experience had taught her that nothing lasts forever and everything could change in an instant.
" What are you thinking about ?" He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest and causing it to vibrate under her.
She almost giggled at the sensation. " I'm thinking that I love you." She told him.
His arm tightened at her waist and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. " I love you, too."
Having him there, living in her house, sleeping just one floor below her had only proven that more to her. She loved him. She loved having breakfast with him. She loved that he loved to cook. She loved arguing over what TV channel to watch. She loved watching him when he didn't know she was there because he was lost in some musty old book. She loved the sad, mortified look that came over his face every time one of those commercials for the humane society came on TV. She loved how they seemed to see the world the same way. But she also loved when he felt differently about something. ( A two hour debate about National health care had really driven that point home.) She loved sitting up with him late at night, talking about nothing and everything and just being together. She loved taking Spock for walks with him every night. And she loved arguing with him over silly stupid things that didn't matter, things like which laundry soap was the better bargain ( She lived by the ' you get what you pay for' rule. He was a ' the cheaper the better' kinda guy.), or what to make for lunch, or whether New Kids on the Block was the worst boy band ever ( he was an In Sync hating fanatic).
She loved getting to know him, really know him. She was learning all the important things now, the things that really mattered. Could he remember to put the toilet seat down ? ( He could) Did he leave his dirty clothes laying all over the floor ? ( He did ) Was he a better cook or dishwasher ?( definitely cook, in fact the whole house agreed on this point and he had more or less taken over all the nightly culinary duties)
And then there was the relationship that was slowly growing between him and her father. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. Patrick hadn't had a man in his life, a real man since he was nine. She was shocked when she came home from taking Bianca and her friend Dawn to the mall one day to find Patrick and her father in the backyard, just a few feet away from where he'd been shot, putting together a model plane. Really, if she didn't know better, she'd say her father liked him. He rarely called him the deep-voiced man-boy anymore except in jest and Patrick didn't seem to mind when he did. They watched basketball together, movies that she wouldn't have been able to stand. And in one of the most comical turn of events she'd ever witnessed herself, Patrick was teaching Walter to play Guitar Hero.
She thought maybe her father had warmed to Patrick just after he moved in. Walter had walked in on them more or less making out on the couch and had almost exploded. Patrick had remained calm and simply told him that he wasn't trying anything, he was just being affectionate and didn't Walter want his daughter to feel like she was loved and appreciated.
Her father hadn't been ready for it. And that was rare. It was odd to see him without a quick, witty comeback on his lips. He didn't know what to say and eventually he had just nodded and walked away muttering something about not being TOO affectionate.
Since that day, Walter had given them a little more freedom in the touching department. He didn't yell every time he walked in to find them kissing or holding each other. He didn't bark and threaten every time he caught them curled up on the couch together.
And Patrick was doing a great job sticking to the list of rules her father had set for them. When she really thought about it, they weren't unreasonable at all. Patrick wasn't allowed upstairs for instance. She could see that, understand it even. He didn't need to be upstairs since the only rooms up there were bedrooms he wasn't allowed in and a bathroom. They weren't allowed by themselves in a room with the door locked. Again, it was her father, not unreasonable at all considering. Patrick had to do his share around the house and since Walter was providing him a place to stay and food to eat, that wasn't too much to ask either. And Patrick was diligent about helping out. He cooked most nights. He helped clean up afterward, too. He took out the trash, helped her do the shopping.
The whole situation had become downright domestic and it was blissfully so.
Unfortunately, the new rules and both their desires to follow them had put a damper on their sex life. Patrick was just now getting around better since his surgery. For the first few weeks, he rarely left the house. The injury to his pancreas had caused him to heal slower than normal and he hadn't been up to being out and about.
In fact, neither of them had ventured anywhere near this territory since he moved in. However, they were finding themselves in heated make out sessions more and more over the last few days and Kat knew that eventually one of them would make the move. It was only a matter of time. And she was beginning to think it would be her.
He shifted under her again, moving her over as he wiggled out from under her. Once he was on his feet, she looked up at him with a smile. " Where are you going ?"
He held up his hand in answer and shrugged. " Blood sugar."
And she nodded in understanding. He had been pretty diligent about that, too. He checked his sugar three times a day. He was watching what he ate and taking Spock for walks in the evening had become an exercise regiment for both of them, not just the dog.
The results were a little confusing and the doctors still weren't sure what to tell him. Some days his sugar was perfectly normal. He had experimented a little with that, testing out sweets on days like that and his body seemed to adjust just like it always did. Other days, he couldn't look at a piece of chocolate without needing an insulin shot.
The doctors had hypothesized that his pancreas was trying to do what it was supposed to do. That was a good sign. It meant that it had the ability to function normally. And the fact that his normal days were steadily increasing boded well for the situation, too. It meant there might be a time in the near future when he wouldn't have to worry about things like blood sugar testing and watching what he ate.
She caught him watching Bianca slurping down a bowl of ice cream one day and she knew this was not easy for him.
She got to her feet slowly, stretching her arms above her head and easing all the tension that she still possessed from her sore shoulders. They had worked hard before the rain started. In fact they were days away from being finished with their basement project.
She was tired, the kind of tired caused by hard physical labor. Glancing around at the gold clock sitting on the fireplace mantel, she saw it was barely after one. Everyone would be gone for hours still. Her father wouldn't be back from the hospital until after five. She knew this because at breakfast he had on his ' I'm delivering a baby today' smile. Delivering babies was the reason he did what he did and he loved it. It showed every time he had one of those planned deliveries. There was an excitement in him even after all these years. She hoped one day she could feel as excited by what she chose to do with her life even after doing it for twenty years. When she asked him about it, he told her he had a C-section scheduled for that afternoon.
Bianca was where Bianca always was since school ended, camping out at Joey Donner's place until right before time for her father to get home.
They were alone. It awed her that her father, the overbearing, over protective, Walter Stratford, was allowing this whole thing. She knew that he knew they had had sex before. Neither of them had come right out and talked about it, but she knew, he knew. And yet he trusted her and Patrick in the house alone for hours.
Something about the thoughts drifting through her mind made her feel a little guilty. He trusted her and here she was imagining all the ways she could break that trust. It felt wrong. But the tension that had been slowly building between her and Patrick was becoming more than she could take.
She straightened, pulling back in from her stretch with a happy, contented sigh and went to the window.
The rain was still coming. A continuous onslaught with an occasional thunder clap thrown in for good measure. It was a mellow easy kind of rain casting that mood on the world that it drenched.
It didn't startled her at all when a pair of hands slid around her waist. She laid her head back against his shoulder and sighed again. He drew her into him, embracing her against his chest.
" Everything good still ?" She asked a touch dreamily.
" No," He breathed right against her ear. " Everything is perfect." His voice was low and breathy, little more than a purr, or perhaps a growl. " Has it occurred to you how early it is ?"
She nodded rubbing her head against him. " As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about that."
He took her hand and brought it up behind her to drape around his neck. She buried her fingers in his hair.
" And exactly what thoughts were you having about the time of day ?" He asked in her ear again and his breath blowing over her earlobe caused her entire body to quiver.
" I was thinking that it will be hours before anyone gets home." She answered as she buried her fingers deeper into his curls.
He left her ear and began to trail his lips down her throat. " Does that mean you want to play scrabble ?" He chuckled against the column of her throat.
" Hhhm, I do, actually. I haven't played a good game of scrabble in ages." She groaned as his hand left her waist and cupped her breast.
" It has been a while." He agreed. " Are you sure we should try playing ? If your dad catches us, all the perfect will be over."
" Dad is at the hospital. He has a scheduled delivery this afternoon." She told him.
He stepped away from her. " So you're sure he won't be home ?" He asked.
She nodded, " Positive."
He came back to the window, this time stepping up beside her instead on behind her. His hand fell over hers on the window sill and he gave it a squeeze.
" Are you okay ?" She asked, glancing at him. His mood was odd. He was being very quiet and contemplative and she wasn't sure why.
" I'm fine." He told her with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
" Lie to me again, you know how much I love it." She rolled her eyes at him.
He laughed and the smile did reach them this time. " It really is nothing." He assured her. " What could be wrong ?"
" I don't know, that's why I'm asking."
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. " Maybe it's the weather. I hate this. It just lingers on and on. It's depressing."
She turned towards him and he followed suit. Her finger came up to trace down the middle of his chest. " I kinda like it. It's soothing."
He glanced out the window again, then back to her, then back to the window. And in the next second she was in his arms. He held her tightly against him, one band splayed across the small of her back, the other over her shoulder blades. His lips were on hers, and it was nothing like she'd been expecting with the suddenness of his movement. She was expecting hot, heated, passionate. What she got was slow, lingering and tender.
He pulled away from her slowly, reluctantly and she gave a little cry in protest, but he didn't go far. He only moved away enough to stoop down and grab her into his arms.
" Patrick !" She squealed in unexpected delight. " Put me down !"
" Why ?" He asked, nuzzling her neck before nipping at it lightly.
" You just had surgery and I can walk." She answered with a roll of her eyes.
He hefted her tighter into his chest, adjusting her to give himself a better grip. " I'm all healed. Doctor said so and I know you can walk. You have two beautiful legs to prove it, but this," He paused to kiss her, " is more fun."
He walked her over to the couch and paused before setting her down. " Maybe we should go upstairs."
She nodded. " Would probably be safer." She agreed. " Now put me down."
" I can carry you up the stairs." He answered.
She kissed him lightly and smiled. " Of course you can, my big, muscled man, but I would rather race you."
He let her go. Dropping her to her feet and pulling away from her. " Alright, fine. I'll race you."
She took off before he finished the sentence, tearing up the stairs two at a time with him hot on her heels.
Once they were safely settled behind her locked bedroom door, he grabbed her again, pulling her into his arms and kissing her the way she had been expecting before, heatedly, passionately. His hands were at her back again and she had finally gotten used to how comfortable and safe that made her feel, she reveled in it, in fact.
" I think I won." She announced between kisses.
" I think you did." He agreed. " I guess you think that makes you special."
He was pulling her now, urging her backwards until she felt the bed behind her knees. She sat down on the edge and looked up at him. He started to climb over her, then stopped. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he yanked it quickly over his head and let it drop to the floor. Then he turned away from her and went to the window.
She watched him closely as he opened it wide and let the sound of the rumbling thunder fill the room. They hadn't bothered with any lights and she hadn't left any on, so the only illumination came from the opened window. The storm was picking up in intensity and an occasion bolt of lightning filled the space with its glaring blueness. Thunder rumbled, growing louder and louder as the storm drew nearer.
He was coming back to her now, a dangerous, lusty look in his eyes and a swagger to his hips that made her mouth go dry. Her eyes scanned over him, taking in all the things she loved about his body. Then she paused as he stepped up to her and she spied the tiny, almost imperceptible pucker of pink flesh on side. She reached out a trembling finger and ran the tip over it gingerly. He was completely still, letting her do whatever she wanted to him.
It was the first time she'd really seen the mark left behind by the bullet that was meant for her and it did something to her. She wasn't sure how to explain what she was feeling. Gratitude, awe, love, they all seemed to be there, but there was more and she couldn't define what it was, couldn't put a label to the emotion.
" Does it hurt still ?" She asked, still touching him gently.
" Nah," He shook his head. " Other than the fact that it messes up the whole perfect physique thing I had going on, I almost forget it's there."
She looked up at him and laughed. " God, you really do like yourself a lot, don't you ?"
" That's how I knew you were obsessed with me." He answered. " I recognized the signs. See, I've been obsessed with me for a really long time."
She laughed again and dragged him down to her with her arms around his neck. " I'll always know it's there. I won't ever forget it." She said with no trace of humor left on her face.
His eyes darkened and she watched in awe as his pupils dilated. " I really wish you'd stop blaming yourself for it. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."
She let her eyes fall from his and nodded. " I know. You keep telling me that. But it feels like my fault."
" That's because your a martyr, Gandhi." He explained simply.
She opened her mouth to protest but he seized it with his before any sound came out. His hand came up her sides, lifting her shirt along the way. She raised her arms and picked her shoulders up to let him glide it over her head. Once it was gone, he dipped his head to her chest and began laying a trail of kisses over her skin. His movements matched the rhythm of the gentle rain outside the window, easy, light, lingering. He wasn't hurried, he wasn't impatient.
One of his hands found hers and their fingers entwined together on the pillow beside her head. There was something very intimate in that gesture, something that said what was happening between them was far more than sex. She already knew that, but his hand surrounding hers reaffirmed it for her.
She let her free hand move down the length of his chest, brushing softly over his skin in the process, until she came to the waistband of his jeans. The rough denim was annoying her. She wanted it gone. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers.
His other hand was moving up her back now, lifting her into him so he could get to the clasp of her bra. He deftly opened it and she gave him a smile in appreciation of his skill. It wasn't always easy to unhook a bra with both hands, doing it with just one was noteworthy.
Thunder rumbled and rolled outside like the earth itself was letting out a long, satisfied moan when he kissed her again. She could feel the goosebumps raising over her skin while he drew the bra from her shoulders and gave it a toss. Then he dropped his head to her breast, taking the right one in his mouth and swirling his tongue over the harden pebble of her nipple while his hand kneaded the left one.
Their hands were still joined and it was making it difficult for her to deal with the closures of his jeans. She gave a frustrated sigh and he raised his head from her breast and chuckled. " Here, let me." He offered.
He took his hand from hers and raised up, coming back to his feet. She sat up as well, mesmerized by the movements of his hands while he worked at the button and zipper of his jeans. Once he had them undone, he slide the material from his trim waist and kicked them off. Then he went to work on hers, though truthfully she didn't notice. She was too taken in by his nakedness. She had seen it before of course, but every time it struck just like it did the first time. He was just so beautiful it was spellbinding.
By the time she realized what was happening, he had her undressed and was moving her back up the bed with a hand under each of her arms. When he got her where he wanted, one of his hands slid down her arm and found her hand again. Apparently he liked the feeling it offered as well.
Then he was kissing her again, slow, deep, penetrating kisses that left her breathless and moaning for more. His hips rolled over hers deliberately, grinding into that perfect spot with each movement and she shuddered under him.
The rain was picking up now, its rhythm and intensity increasing to a roar. She marveled at how their actions mirrored the storm. Their movements increasing in rhythm and intensity as well.
She could feel his hardness rubbing against her now, begging her for entrance and she almost lost herself enough to allow it.
He was the one that stopped, that pulled back and reached to the drawer of her nightstand. She had forgotten all about it, forgotten their need to be careful, forgotten how important it was not to get too carried away.
It was his fault. She always seemed to get carried away when it came to him.
Once he had the condom in place, he was kissing her again, not leaving her lips as he settled himself between her thighs. It was blissful, the weight of his body over hers, the feel of the muscles in his back shifting under her legs which her wrapped securely around his middle.
She raised her hips, reveling in the feel of his hardness brushing over her most sensitive areas. He was still kissing her when he sheathed himself inside her, moving in slowly and not stopping until he hit bottom. He shifted, moving his hips enough to grant him just a few more centimeters into her and he sighed contently against her lips.
The thunder rolled again, louder and more insistent this time, just as he began to move. He let the weather set their tempo, using the pounding of the rain on the window sill as a guide.
He nibbled at her bottom lip as his free hand found hers and then he was holding both of them while his lower body ground into hers in a lazy, leisurely pace that was driving her crazy.
" Patrick," She managed to gasp out around his lips.
" mm," was all the answer she got, but he seemed to understand as his speed began to increase if only just slightly.
A flash of lightning lite up the room and she felt her body jerk in surprise from it. He gasped at the suddenness of the movement and picked up his pace even more. " Kat," He ground out in a growl that set her whole body on fire.
" Yes," She whispered into his shoulder as he arched his back and thrust into her again and again.
Her orgasm surprised her. It came on unexpectedly, out of nowhere. One minute she was riding along with him, meeting him move for move, thrust for thrust, the next she was spiraling out of control, her head spinning so hard she couldn't think of anything but him and what he was making her feel.
She was vaguely aware of him tensing above her and calling out her name. The sound only intensified the feelings she was experiencing.
Moments later, they were still trying to collect themselves. He rolled to her side, bringing her body along for the ride and nestling it securely into the crock of his arm, molding her to him as he placed a gentle kiss to her temple.
" I love you." He panted out as he tried to take another deep breath.
" I love you, too." She answered, burying her head further into his shoulder.
His eyes shot to the window and he gave it a little smile. " I guess you were right. The rains not so bad after all."