Title: Give The Devil His Due

Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just the idea.
Spoilers: 1.10 SPOILERS
Summary: Oneshot. Kat will do whatever it takes to reverse the Uniform rule. Patrick is willing to aid her in her plight, but for a cost. 1.10 SPOILERS Probably OOC and some Crack.

Never happen, not in a million years :P That's what made it so fun writing ;)

Disregards the 1.09 fight. Somewhere between 1.08 and 1.09 everything was cleared up. Don't ask me how…

As if they could stop Katarina Stratford.

Pride oozed out of every pore as she watched the student body, filing in a neat orderly fashion, waiting for their turn to make their voices known. All different walks of life, merging together for one cause, not caring if the jocks had to wait behind the Audio/Video nerds, or if the Paris Hiltons rubbed elbows with the Marilyn Mansons.

It was riveting.

But did she expect anything less? Kids these days might be mostly louts, barbarians, or just plain aggravating, but to have their freedom ripped from their vary hands, would never be stood for.

The school board should have known this would happen. Perhaps they did, but thought they could pull the wool over the poor adolescent eyes? Whatever the case, it would not be tolerated.

Every student had a right to their own privacy, and with the board's new ruling stating that 'Henceforth, all backpacks will be thoroughly searched prior to school entrance, while lockers will be examined weekly…' were violating those rights.

With the increased attacks on school campuses, it was…understandable, she supposed. Parents would feel safer, and while she wasn't exactly willing to admit it, she would feel a tad more secure knowing that her father wasn't going to be told of either her, or Bianca's demise at the hands of a trouble teen. But safety measures were one thing, robbing an independent mind of its own identity; that was another.

And thus it began.

It was about time Padua High had been treated to the unwavering display of a Katarina Stratford protest.

In one afternoon, complaint groups formed, rallies were held, and blank petition papers were quickly filled with the illegible scrawl of every self-governing pupil.

It was marvelous.

While she may have been outside of the norm when it came to teenage wasteland, they all rallied with her in objection of the new Uniform regulations. No one was going to make her wear a pleated skirt, tie and oxford. If she wanted to wear a uniform, she'd going the Army. (No she wouldn't; they were bombing Uzbekistan …)

Kat smirked as the populace continued to sign the petition on the table to her right. The quad was packed full of blue, grey and maroon plaid bipeds all clamoring to join the masses with ruckus approval.

Though, all continued to look at her strangely.

'They need to get our more,' Kat mused, standing ramrod straight against the tree she had willing chained herself to. It was part of her own protest. And it always worked…or at least it worked that one time in Ohio when her school refused to change the two-ply comfort toilet paper to the recycled more ecological brand. She was suspended for a week, but the change was eventually made.

'Another fine protest,' she commended herself. Nothing got her blood pumping more than free speech.

…and just like that, she amended herself when Patrick Verona entered the quad.

Dressed in a button-up and slacks, he looked severely abnormal. Yes, he had worn something similar (with a change of colour and a waistcoat) to the Fling, but there was just something about the striped tie hanging loose around his neck that made her want to tear it off… fix it, that is…

His hair was still in that mussed up akimbo way that seemed like he just got up and ran a hand through it, and he still had his combats on, hidden by his slacks, wrinkled and baggy, and he still had that despondent look on his face that said he neither cared or was even remotely interesting in whatever was going on, but he still…

Alright, she'll say it. He still really did it for her.

And the second he saw her chained to her tree, watching him like she fully realized she was, he smirked and knew he totally did it for her.

And damnit! She's chained to a tree! She couldn't move even if she wanted to. Did she?

In the 11 seconds it took for him to make his way over to her, in that lazy swagger of his, the quad had gone dead silent. Ever since that rumour started about her castrating a guy with a dull knife (probably the same people who said a certain someone was the son of murderers), she has become one of the most terrifying people in school, second, of course, to-

"I didn't know it was my birthday."

Huh? Kat cocked an eyebrow.

"Why else would there be a pretty girl in a skirt, chained to a tree, just waiting for me?" Patrick said, stopping two or three feet from her.

Doing an excellent impression of ignoring him, Kat rolled her eyes and looked around her. Every student had stopped what they were doing, and wearily eyed the going-ons of her and Patrick. 'As The Quad Turns', she reflected. Nine times out of ten, if Patrick Verona was talking to someone, there was a good chance something big, petrifying, or unfortunate was going to happen.

Patrick didn't seem to pay much attention (or didn't care), "Any particular reason you've chained yourself to a tree, other than the naughty ones I'm thinking up?"

Kat glared at him mildly, "I'm protesting."

"Uh huh," Patrick said, crossing his arms and looking amused, "Last I heard, people only attached themselves to trees if that tree was in danger of being cut down. As far as I know, nothing is happening to your friend here."

"It's the whole principle. I won't remove myself from this tree unless they decide to scrap the new rules."

"You have to eat sometime…"

Ah, she was one step ahead of him. "That's where Mandela comes in."

"Bodily functions?" he asked with a smug look.

"Not that I desire to discuss my bodily functions with you," she volleyed back "But I haven't consumed any liquids lately, which means, I have maybe 5 or 6 more hours before that is an issue."

Patrick cocked his head, "Or until the school closes and Holland forcefully removes you herself. Oh," Patrick said, suddenly depraved, "That'll be fun. Maybe I'll stick around for that."

"It won't come to that," Kat stated, matter-of-factly "By then the board will have acquiesced to our demands, making me free to leave when I choose."

Patrick looked a little dubious, "What makes you so sure?"

"This isn't my first protest, you know."

He nodded. It didn't surprise him. "Do all your protests involve tying yourself to a tree?"

"No, but it was the only way to get their attention, without a fine, and stay on school property."

"Well, you certainly got my attention," he leered, moving a step closer to her.

Kat smiled innocently, "Good, now sign my petition."

"Now, why would I want to do that?" Patrick asked, leaning his head a little closer to her, as if seriously considering it. The fact that the closer proximity instantly reminded her of the rooftop, unnerved her a little. Yes, at the Fling they touched, but the rooftop was more… intimate.

"The board is using their position of power to thrust their own morals and opinions on those they believe are inferior. It's a stand."

Patrick looked roguishly at her, "The words 'position', 'power', and 'thrust' all in one sentence? You're turning me on, Stratford."

Kat chose to ignore both the comment, and the way his eyes travel down her neck. Distracting herself, she elaborated.

"Besides, I doubt you're as comfortable in that, as I am in this," she said, knowing instantly it was a mistake when Patrick unashamedly ran his eyes up and down her frame.

"There's more... enjoyable... ways to solve that..." he let the sentence taper off, his intent clear.

Kat rolled her eyes, "Maybe if we were the last two people alive... and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?"

Patrick chuckled, "Didn't know you were into Bestiality, Stratford."

Kat wasn't impressed, "Figured you'd be up on your kink, Verona."

And then, not even giving her anytime to react, without any preamble, he stepped closer until she could feel the heat radiating off him, encircled her wrists in his calloused hands and gently pinned them above her head against the rough bark of her tree.

She was too shocked to speak. He took the opportunity, and leaned further in, so close she could make out each individual eyelash, "Admit that you're obsessed with me and I can show you all the kink you like."

If the quad had been silent earlier, it was now dead; like the vacuum of Space, where you could scream till you were hoarse and the sound would still fail to travel even before you opened your mouth.

How the Hell he managed to tip her off-balance, she didn't know, but the way his hot breath coasted against her cheek shocked her enough to regain some of that lost stability.

"Do those lines actually work?" Kat asked. If it were anyone else to manhandle her, she would have kneed them, and if anyone else had used such drivel with her, she probably would have burst out laughing. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Patrick Verona.

Patrick looked at her knowingly, "They're only lines if you don't intend to follow through."

Kat was stunned… and then she snickered. "Are you busting your game out on me?"

Patrick genuinely smiled (one of the few times she could remember) and to her surprise, moved his hands from her wrist to thread his lean fingers with hers. They were warm and coarse against her smaller hands (that were probably just as rough), but the way they intertwined perfectly with hers sent a heat through her she couldn't even begin to describe. It was the same heat the kiss on the rooftop had generated; just as delicious, just as dangerous.

"I don't need my game when I already have you where I want you."

'Mmhmm perfectly worded.' Between an immovable surface, and him; cool tree trunk at her back, warm hot body at her front. Paradise cloaked Hell. (Or was it Hell cloaked Paradise?)

"What do you want, Verona?"

He briefly pondered, "A new pair of Harleys, a cheeseburger, and a 'B' in English."

Kat pursed her lips, and she couldn't help but notice he stared down at them longer than he should have. "What do you want with me?"

"Now, that's the question, isn't it, Miss Stratford?"

For once, she wished he would be more forward. 'Kat, honey, how much more forward could he get than boxing you in against a tree, and saying he 'already had you where he wanted you'?'

She was frustrated. And the fact that he smelt like woodchips, gasoline and leather didn't help.

'Put on your big girl panties, Stratford. Want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.'

"Well, I want you to sign my petition. If you do, whatever it is you want from me, " she paused, not exactly sure why or what she was going to do once saying this, but feeling a sudden thrill low in her belly, all the same "You can have it."

'There. It's on the table. Now show me your cards.'

Patrick, momentarily taken aback, recovered, cocked an eyebrow, and smirked, "You're making a deal with the Devil, Katarina."

Kat mirrored his eyebrow, "I know what I'm doing," she said, before looking sardonically at him, "You're not as tough as you think you are."

This seemed to appease him greatly. He gave her an appraising look before showing just how much he admired her tact by slipping a leather boot between her feet, bringing his knee to rub against the fabric of her skirt. Kat's eyes widened, as the distance between them narrowed, knowing full-well that if he hadn't of been holding her hands, she would have maimed him. That, or more likely, grabbed hold of his tie and yanked him to her.

Covering the sudden delight enveloping her, she glared, one that he probably saw right through. "Do we need to clarify the words 'sexual harassment', again?"

Patrick scoffed, "It's only sexual harassment if you don't want it."

I want. Bad. "The only thing I want from you is your signature on my petition."

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll have all your rights taken from you and be forced to be someone else's monkey." And I won't have nearly as much fun checking you out. "And you'll have to wear that all day."

Patrick seemed to briefly ponder this, "Which means I get to see those legs."

Kat's lip curled, but she made no comment. He liked her legs? Huh… as Feminist as she was, no one had ever said that before (probably because no one had ever seen them before, but that was beside the point.)

"But I digress." He looked to be thinking, but the smirk said he wasn't thinking very hard. After a moment of silence, he eyed her calculatingly. "I'll sign your petition, and you won't even have to sell over your soul, just yet."

Kat was about to direct him towards the table, when he spoke first.

"There are just two things I want."

'And there's the kicker.'

Patrick Verona didn't do anything for anyone unless he could get something out of it. And yes, though it was a nice gesture when he delivered her mother's vinyls, it also meant he had earned her forgiveness. Something for something.

"Speak."

He leaned in and lowered his voice, "Go out with me tonight."

It wasn't a question. She knew that, but even so her eyes widened. Really? Oh gosh… Slow down Kat; don't put the cart before the horse. Mentally agreeing quicker than she would have liked, she raised her eyebrows as if impatient, "And?"

Patrick smirked before she had just enough time to gasp as he pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss.

Beyond the haze of need, she heard a collective gasp from throughout the quad, but it quickly fell away when his hands gripped hers tightly. She squeezed back as he bit her bottom lip lightly, before releasing her hands and stepping away.

"Pick you up at 7," was all the said as he strutted towards the table where the petition lay.

Recovering from her mild shock, Kat called back, "Don't be late."

Ignoring the open stares of the students around him, Patrick signed the paper, put his hands in his pocks and made a grand exit out the quad.

Licking her lips, Kat leaned her head heavily against her tree and watched him strut away.

Yeah, he really did it for her.

Author's Note:Did somebody say Crack? ;) Never happen, not in a million years. LOL. Gosh darn it; this sounded a lot better in my head, it also made sense then, too. *pout* This was immensely difficult to write. I apologize.