Kat cursed under her breath as she trudged up the stairs to her room, fake baby in tow. She had finally gotten little "Jane" to sleep. Patrick had mysteriously vanished when the doll started crying, and after forty-five minutes of rocking it back and forth, Kat was more than a little pissed that her "baby daddy" wasn't pulling his weight. As she got to her room, she found the man-boy in question sitting on her windowsill. The window was open and he had one leg hanging out the window; his back was against the window frame and his other leg was resting, knee-bent, on the sill. He turned his head when he heard her enter, and smiled at her. "Baby asleep?" he asked.

She scowled at him, "No thanks to you," she whispered. "What the heck are you doing up here?"

"Just watching the lightning," he shrugged. Though it wasn't raining yet, there was the occasional flash of lightning in the dark night air.

"Ah, good. As long as you blew me off for something really important," she sneered sarcastically, still in hushed tones.

"Okay, first of all," Patrick said getting up from the windowsill, "I've been helping all day, and all last night. And secondly, why are you whispering? You know it's not a real baby. She's not actually going to wake up until the stupid timer tells her, 'Hey it's time to piss some teenagers off now!'"

"I'm just-" Kat had to stop herself from whispering in answer. She started again in a normal voice, "I'm just trying to take this seriously. Which is more than I can say for some people," she gave Patrick an accusatory look.

"C'mon, Kat," he replied reaching out to grab Kat around her waist, "It's just a stupid punishment. You don't have to take it seriously. You just have to get through it, then things can get back to normal."

Kat's eyes narrowed as she stepped away from Patrick's embrace. "I really hurt my dad. I don't know if he'll ever trust me again. When my punishment is over, which, by the way, I don't really foresee my punishment ever ending, but if it does, that doesn't mean things will be normal again."

Patrick couldn't think of anything to say to that. He tried pulling Kat in for a quick kiss by way of apology, but she pushed him away again. "Good night, Patrick," she said, coldly.

"Kat, I just-" he started, but she silenced him with one look. He grudgingly marched out the door. As she closed it behind him, he heard the lock turn. Great, he thought. Whether I say anything or keep my mouth shut, I always end up in trouble.

As he settled into the couch downstairs, Patrick noticed the baby's bottle tucked under the cushions. He pulled it out and jogged upstairs to give it to Kat. They decided they'd take turns with the baby at night. Patrick had kept Janie the first night, and tonight was Kat's turn. He knew she'd be desperate for the bottle in about an hour and a half. But when he knocked on her door, Kat didn't answer. He tried again, and a muffled "I'm busy!" came from the other side.

"Kat, just open the door-" he started, but once again she cut him off.

"Patrick, I don't want to talk about it right now. I'll see you tomorrow."

Patrick sighed and headed back downstairs. He knew she was going to need that bottle. Why did she have to be so stubborn? She didn't even know why he knocking on her door! Fine. Whatever. He didn't care. Let her go crazy trying to find the bottle. It'd serve her right. He lay back down on the couch. Another bolt of lightning lit up the room, and a few seconds later, the thunder came with it. Patrick rolled onto his side, and found himself staring at that stupid baby bottle. He shut his eyes and listened to the rain which had finally started pouring outside. At his side, his fingers were drumming anxiously. Suddenly, he got up, and grabbed the bottle.

Kat was in her room, glaring at the baby doll "sleeping" in its carrier next to her bed. Why did her dad have to be a gynecologist? Why did he have to be such a basketcase? And why couldn't Patrick just see how important this ridiculous exercise was, not just to her dad, but to her? Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on her window. At first, she thought it was just the wind. But then the tapping came again, in a very un-random rhythm: tap-tap-tap-TAP. Tap-tap-tap-TAP. Tap-tap-tap-TAP. She got up from the bed, and stood motionless as her brain tried to register what she was seeing.

Patrick was outside her window. In the rain. His white shirt was soaked and clinging very nicely to his body. He had a baby bottle in his hand.

Snapping out of it, Kat rushed to unlock the window and let in her drenched boyfriend. She couldn't help but laugh as he climbed inside, clutching the baby bottle. She laughed, "You really have a window fetish, don't you?"

"Nah, I just thought you'd like to see me soaking wet...hair messed...clothes clinging to my chiseled body..." Kat rolled her eyes at his remarks, pretending she hadn't been noticing exactly those things before she let him in.

"Chiseled, huh? When was the last time you went to the gym?" she asked.

"Irrelevant." You know you want me right now." He tossed the bottle on her bed and reached out once more to pull her in for a kiss. This time she didn't resist, and instinctively deepened the kiss, running her fingers through his watter-logged curls Just then they were interrupted by Kat's door flinging open. Bianca was asking about some pointless thing or other, but she stopped mid-sentence as she saw Patrick and Kat together.

"Oh my god," she whined, "You know Joey hasn't called me all week. I can only assume it's because he's too busy hooking up with the super-skank. Do you have to flaunt your love around like this? Not cool."

"We're not flaunting...anything," Kat said carefully. "This is my room. Maybe you shouldn't barge in without knocking! What do you want, anyway?"

But Bianca's mind had already forgotten about whatever she had come in for in the first place. "Does dad know about your little make-out sessions in your room? I doubt he'd approve. Why are you wet?" She directed this last question to Patrick.

"I had an accident," he dead-panned.

"So we've gotta get him cleaned up, mmkay? Buh-bye now!" Kat shoved her sister out the door before she could continue this pointless conversation.

"The door was unlocked?" He should be pissed, but Patrick was grinning in spite of himself.

Kat followed his eyes to her closed door. "Um...yes," she answered. "I guess when I came back from the bathroom, I didn't lock it again."

He chuckled, "Okay, good to know. Check the door before climbing up a trellis in the middle of a storm."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea...what was the point of the trellis-climbing anyway?"

"Oh yeah," Patrick exclaimed, as if he, like Bianca, had forgotten about his purpose in coming to see Kat. He grabbed the bottle from where he had thrown it, "Here. I didn't want Janie to go hungry just because we were in a fight."

Kat laughed. "Yeah, imagine if we did that, our poor kid would starve to death before her first year." Just then, the mechanical cries started yet again. Kat sighed, "And it looks like you were just in time."

Patrick picked the baby up carefully from its carrier, and motioned for the bottle. Kat shook her head and took Jane from his arms. "Thanks, but I can take care of it. You go get dried off," she smiled. Patrick nodded and turned to leave, by the door this time, not the window. As he was shutting it behind him, he heard Kat, almost in a whisper, call his name, "Patrick?" He stopped and turned back to her. He words were quiet, but dripping with meaning. "Thank you."

End Note: Okay, even if no one else cares, I love this chapter. It makes me want to squee. :) Chapter inspired by "Stormy Weather" by The Kooks. Hm...another chapter based on a song by a british band. Can you tell what I've been listening to lately? lol.