FicWad

"You think he's gotten her to talk?" Patrick asked Mal as they sat in the car, parked in front of the apartment complex.


"Think about what you just asked me, Patrick..." Patrick looked down at the steering wheel, the shiny, silver center, and then looked over at Mal.


"I don't really want to." Mal smiled and nodded once, making Patrick grin...but only slightly.


"I almost can't believe I left her with Pete. His hands are more intelligent than his head...I mean...he can write, but as far as what he says goes...sometimes I wonder if he's advancing at all as a speaker of the English language." Mal paused. "I'm being mean to him and he's not even here. What a waste." Patrick chuckled and fumbled with the keys, still dangling from the ignition.


"How are things going for you and Pete?" Mal laughed, a loud Mal-ish laugh, surprising Patrick, considering he was unaware of what anyone had said that would be considered so funny.


"They aren't. Going, I mean. He's obnoxious. He always has to be right, and when he's not, it's "Oh, poor me. I think I'll go write a fucking song."" Patrick looked at her. "Okay, obviously I haven't been around him long enough to know what he's like in his minstrel-mood, but I'm sure that's knowledge I don't really want to attain."


"You're right."


"Every second of every day of my life. But it's nice to be reminded, so thanks." Patrick looked at her. Not smiling.


"You are just as obnoxious as he is." Mal nodded.


"This is true. But, obnoxious plus obnoxious equals mega disaster with the potential to destroy humanity."


"More like each other."

"Same thing." Patrick shook his head, and looked up at the window that he knew belonged to Meg's apartment.


"I'm not ready to go up there. I don't really want to talk to her about this." Mal looked over at him.


"Patrick, I really doubt she expects you to. I think mostly, she just needs a support system, and that's a job I think you seem great for." He looked at her, eyes reverberating a thank you. "Besides, I'm ready to kick some ass."


"Wait. What ass are you kicking?"


"Meg. Duh. It's why we're friends." Patrick put his hands on the wheel, stepping on the gas, and pulling out of the parking lot.


"What the fuck, where are you going?" Patrick looked over at her as he waited for an opportunity to pull out onto the busy Chicago street.


"I think the last thing Meg and Pete need right now is you. No offense, but I think maybe we should chill some more. Give them time to either talk It out or be alone together or ignore each other, whatever. You, don't need to be there." Mal crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window.


"I think this is kidnap." Patrick smirked.


"I've never been kidnapped, so if it is, I wouldn't know any better." She glared at him. Patrick acted like he was completely oblivious to her icy-death looks. "Now, let's play the quiet game. Loser has to walk home. Ready?"


Mal abruptly raised her middle finger at him, and returned to her former position, arms crossed, eyes pointed at the road, it's yellow lines passing rapidly.





So, in situations like the one Pete and Meg had found themselves in, common sense, along with logic, is thrown out the window to the ground beside Mal's Denali, which held the two people they were possibly hurting most.


Who the fuck cared? Not them.


Pete deepened the kiss, allowing his hands to drop to her waist, pulling her closer.


Ah, but common sense, and logic can't stay outside in the cold for too long, because...well, they get cold. They're just like us, I hear.


Anyway, Meg moved her lips from their spot against Pete's and made her way down to the base of his neck, flicking lightly with her tongue.

Then, common sense and logic came parading through the front door, scaring the shit out of Pete, causing him to pull back, and push Meg away.


"Meg, this can't happen. We know this can't happen. Your boyfriend is on his way here, and the girl I've involuntarily made my almost-girlfriend is with him. They'll come back. They'll see this. Meg, are we really willing to do that damage?" She watched his lips, allowing herself some time to catch her breath, and clear her head.


Meg nodded slowly, moving back to her original position at the end of the couch opposite Pete.


"We can't tell anyone about this." She said aloud, looking over at him. He looked up at her and smiled.


"I love it when you talk to me." She shook her head, grabbing the notebook they'd been previously using for conversation.


"Then I'm going to stop, because it makes you smile, and then we end up doing stuff like we just did. From here on out, I'm quiet...and you...can't smile." She passed him the little notepad and he read, laughing, smiling.


"Damn you." She said aloud. He looked up at her, putting his finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet.



"No talking. Duh." She shook her head, removing the quilt that had been covering her bare legs, and made her way into the kitchen.


"Where are you going? Why am I talking to you when you're in there and I'm in here? This is pointless. Don't worry. I'm coming." He said shaking his head, relishing in his moment of total idiocy. But, at the same time, it wasn't the type of communication he was used to. That being the first slip up after weeks of hanging out was pretty impressive, he thought. As he walked toward the kitchen, he gave himself a nice pat on the back. How lame.


He found her in the kitchen, leaving on the counter, arms out in front of her, supporting her weight. She looked at him.


"Why do you do this to me. I've been having dreams. Strange dreams that don't make any sense, but in these dreams I can feel you. I can't ever see you, but I can feel you. I imagine you speaking, what your voice sounds like, and then, I wake up questioning every romantic feeling I've ever had towards Patrick. I start redirecting those feelings towards you." She looked down, having spoken each word. "Pete, I don't want to. I'm sorry, but I don't want to. I don't want...you. I can't want you." He stepped closer.



"And I don't particularly want to want you knowing that it's sort of sharing a want with my best friend that, technically we shouldn't both want when one of us already has." Meg furrowed her brows.


"Somehow, I got that." He nodded.


"Good. Anyway, I shouldn't look at you and wish I could just...kiss you. I shouldn't be the romantic shit head that Patrick was afraid of being. It's almost justifiable to me now, just because I'm where he was and it's lame."


"Such verbiage."


"Fuck you."



"Don't say those things." He smiled, looking up at the clock.



"How long have they been gone." Meg shrugged, then the motivation behind the question sunk in.



"Long enough. Save feelings like that for another day...for another girl." Meg looked down at the tile, then stepped slowly across the threshold (from tile to carpet), to the plush floors leading to her bedroom. Again, she shut the door. Again, leaving Pete standing, hands in his back pockets. Only this time, he wasn't waiting for her.


He threw inhibitions aside, and walked to her door, tempted to knock, but, he decided against it, opting for opening her door, and slipping inside.





"Patrick I think we should go back. We've punished Meg long enough." Patrick stopped where he was, pointing at Mal.


"You lose. Out you go. Enjoy the cold." She, for the second time in about 15 minutes, flipped him off. She wasn't going anywhere, and he got the point.


"Alright." Patrick turned the wheel sharply, pulling to his left into an old abandoned lot. "We're not going anywhere." Mal looked at him.


"Why?" He didn't say anything. "Oh. It's so you can be a pain in the ass. Right. No real reason. Just for the sake of trying to be as obnoxious as I apparently am. Well, good for you. I'm perfectly fine with sitting here too." She sat back, placing her hands under her thighs for warmth. He'd turned off the air, she noted. Prick.


"I see the way he looks at her sometimes." Mal looked over at Patrick. His eyes stayed unfocused as she turned her body, leaning her back against the car door.


"Patrick, what are you talking about?" He looked over at Mal.


"You know he's interested in Meg. That's why you're not betting on anything other than sex happening between the two of you. You're resigned yourself to the fact that he's wanted her from day one." Mal was taken back by his bluntness, but happy to see that he'd gotten it all wrong.



"Maybe, he does look at her, Patrick, but I haven't seen it. I have no real reason to think he's interested in anyone but me as far as his actions towards me go, so I'm not "resigning myself to that face that I just can't be with him", mostly resigning myself to the fact that I honestly don't want to." He nodded, eyes still unfocused.


"Does it bother you?" Mal shook her head. "It bothers me. Because you know what else I see? I see her looking back." Mal looked down at her hands, not really sure of how to respond.


"It'll pass. I know Meg. She's always fascinated by what she doesn't have. She can't hear so simple sounds like doorbells or footsteps of papers ruffling are incredible to her. She can't even imagine what those things are really like, but one she has the ability to know, and hear, she really won't think it's that great. She loses interest, and the abilities, the people, that were always there, become what's really important. She learns easy lessons the hard way, Patrick, and I think you may be no exception to this. Meg may be learning that abilities can be taken for granted, but people can't." Patrick shook his head.


"Kind of shitty that I'm her variable." Mal nodded.


"Very shitty."


Patrick started up the car, and steered the Denali back in the direction of the apartment, back in the direction of Meg. He wasn't losing this time. Everyone lost to Pete, but just because his personality was more...overwhelming, didn't mean Patrick had any reason to doubt his own self-worth.


Mal looked up at the sky, and watched the first snowflake hit the windshield, slowly evaporating before getting a chance to meet its brothers and sisters. Mal laughed to herself.


So is life.