FicWad

"So that's it?" Mal looked over at Patrick from her position behind the wheel.


"What do you mean, "that's it"?" He shrugged.


"Well, I understand why it would be a big deal to you, I guess, but Meg's all-grown up now. She can take care of her own shit, Mal." Mal sighed, and looked over at Patrick.


"I know. I know I should back off and let Meg live Meg's life, but put yourself in my shoes. This would be so great for her. She needs to know the beauty of hearing, and you won't be able to find me another person who deserves it more." Patrick nodded, impressed by the sincerity of this girl.


"Smoothie?" She asked, as she parked at Ipsento. He laughed.


"Are you a celebrity-hunter?" She made a face of mock-offense.


"I couldn't! There are too many other ways to spend my time, all of them far more lucrative." He shook his head, and she decided he obviously didn't believe her.


As the approached the double doors, Patrick politely opened one of them, allowing Mal to step inside, away from the Chicago cold. They ordered and took a seat, Mal removing her red hat and scarf, Patrick leaving his hat right where it always was.


"Do you sleep in that?" Mal asked, eyes focused at the top of his head. He looked at her.


"Do you think before you talk?" Mal flipped him off, taking a sip of the mango deliciousness that was her smoothie. Patrick shook his head.


"Why would you drink that? It's like, ten degrees outside right now." She shrugged her shoulders as she sipped from her straw. "You're insane, Mal. I've seen you bitch-slap, and drink things equally as cold as the current temperature. Why?"



"Why be average? Who likes average?" He didn't say anything. "Exactly. No one likes average. I do thinks outrageously for that reason. Plus, it allows for a steady flow of excitement." He smiled.


"That's the difference between you and Meg." Mal nodded, setting down her cup.



"Meg's very proactive, don't get me wrong. She's got more ambition than any individual I've ever met, but at the same time, she's so cautious. She won't take chances." Patrick made a face.


"I would say sitting down at the piano twice a week is taking a pretty big risk, considering she can't hear what she plays." Mal nodded.



"She's comfortable behind the ivory of a piano. She's comfortable in those things, but taking her outside of her comfort zone, asking her to be human and not so introverted, that's a long shot. She's not willing to be something she isn't already." Meg scratched at the back of her red hair, and looked back at Patrick, who was facing downward, hands folded on the shiny tabletop.


"We have nothing in common." Mal laughed.


"That's why you're dating Meg." Patrick laughed.


"I mean Meg and I. Sure, I'm scared of some things. A lot of things, really. I can't deal with relationships, typically. I start over thinking and then I decide that it's just better for everybody if I stay away. My Midas touch is not so-gold. I mostly turn things to...nothing. I destroy, if you want the truth. It's my temper. The smallest things set me off so fast..." Mal looked at him. "Why am I telling you this? I really just want to know what you think Meg is going to do as far as electric ear goes." Mal sat back, almost to the end of her smoothie.


"I don't know, Patrick. I really don't. This just proves to me that she's becoming more and more impersonal. I hate it that there's nothing that I can do, as her best friend, to convince her to be the radiant girl I know she is. It's in there, I've seen it. Like the way she spoke to you. She never does that, but something about you convinced her to do it. She was compelled to be....Meg." Mal shook her head. "It's going to take a lot to convince her to have the surgery. If she's even kind of doubting it's worth, it's going to be a huge fight to make her see just how incredible this could be for her."


Patrick drummed his fingers, causing Mal to look down, noticing the rhythm of a musician's hands.


"I don't think I'm the guy for this." Mal looked up.


"What?"


"Think about it. Now, she's got this huge decision to make, and everyone is going to be counting on me, the quasi-boyfriend, to convince her to make the decision that the general consensus says is best. I really don't want to be the bad guy. Please don't make me." Mal smiled.


"You really think I would ask that of you." He laughed, hard.


"Yes." She smiled, standing up to leave. As they made their way out the door, Mal examined Patrick.


His features weren't harsh like Pete's. Everything about him was subtle, and maybe that's what she needed to take her boldness down a notch. She shook her head. No. Meg had Patrick. Mal had Pete...in bed. That was basically it. Her relationship with Pete was physical and nothing more, making it easy to envy the reality of Meg and Patrick's relationship. Oh, well. It was nothing she could have, or would have, as far as she knew, after watching Meg and Patrick together.


They were disgustingly precious.


"I'll drive." Mal shook her head.


"No, you won't." He made his way over to her short frame, standing inches from her face. She was backing down. This was her Denali, her financial endeavor. She. Was. Driving.


Green. Way green. Why hadn't he noticed that before? Probably because he was too focused on her best friend. He figured he probably shouldn't go changing that now. As Mal was standing almost nose-to-nose with Patrick, she failed to notice him slipping his hand inside the outside pocket of her bag. She also failed to notice the removal of her keys from said bag.


She did, however, notice him walk away, unlock the car, and climb into the driver's seat."


"Mother fucker." She muttered, as he started the vehicle. Mal unhappily sat down on the passenger's side, and buckled her seatbelt.


"That's very classy language. I can see why you and Pete get a long so incredibly well. Your similarities truly are uncanny." She rolled her eyes.


"Kiss my ass." He laughed.


"Way to prove that you're nothing like Pete at all. Excellent Job."