Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Revelations of Destiny	By : Kellendros Category: Kim Possible > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 63461 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 78
- 79
- 80
   Shortly after leaving the bistro—and after returning to Shego’s car so she could move it closer to the beach access—Ron and Kim found themselves heading into change rooms—or rather, change tents—while Shego checked to make sure the attendants hadn’t rented out her regularly reserved beach cabana on the sly like she knew they usually did. Nevertheless, despite that little delay, the older woman stepped out of the change room next to Ron’s only moments after the blond did, which in turn was only a few seconds before Kim exited her own stall.

   “All right, all changed and good to go…”

   Ron tossed out the idle statement as he finished cramming the last of his clothes into a now slightly overstuffed, miniature beach duffle he’d brought with him from the car—though honestly, it wasn’t much of a change; blue cargo shorts had become a blue, boxer-style swimsuit, and he’d doffed his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, but the faded yellow tank top he’d worn underneath it still remained, as did the pair of nicely broken-in sandals gracing his feet, while on his shoulder, the only change Rufus had made was to don a tiny little straw sunhat somewhat similar to the one Shego wore. Next to him, Kim had definitely undergone a far more radical transformation, exchanging her already somewhat scanty clothing for nothing more than a broad thong bikini riding high on her hips, and an equally skintight, narrow sports-bra style top, both of which sported dark blue edging with even darker navy sections contrasting lighter purple ones. As the redhead casually began to tie up her hair in a high ponytail, Ron spoke once more.

   “Now then, what are we— great googly moogly! What the heck happened to you?”

   The words burst from Ron like a shot as he looked up from his beach bag at the exact same moment Shego passed in front of him on her way over to Kim, and, for the first time ever, his rising, increasingly wide-eyed stare took in every inch of her sleek new Amazonian physique in all of its powerful, perfectly chiseled glory—or more precisely, it was the first time he hadn’t had far greater things on his mind to distract him from noticing those changes, as he’d certainly gotten an admittedly somewhat less… comprehensive, look at Shego’s new physique earlier in the day, when she’d been wearing her semi-diaphanous nightgown during his arrival.

   The older woman immediately froze at the outburst, her head snapping around in sharp, erratic little jerks as she raised her arms and twisted back and forth while trying to look down at all of herself at once. After several anxious seconds raking her darting gaze up and down the exposed expanses of her bikini-clad body and finding nothing amiss, Shego fixed a narrow-eyed stare on Ron and snapped out an aggravated, one-word demand.

   “What?”

   “Well… I mean… you!” Ron gestured vaguely before indicating Shego with a sharp, spastic little jerk of his hands. “I always knew you could punch out a truck, but this is the first time you’ve ever looked like you could!”

   “Oh god…” Shego’s wavy, midnight-green tresses swayed back and forth as she pulled herself up to her full height while cutting her eyes skyward and shaking her head in disgust. Smacking her lips once, dryly, she shot Ron an annoyed look while demanding; “That’s it?”

   “Ahhh… pretty much, yeah.” A still somewhat wide-eyed Ron replied, while on his shoulder, Rufus nodded vigorously and then curled his arms down in a he-man muscle pose, emphatically stating; “Ho-y’ah; S’ego big!” A second later, Ron continued; “Wha’d’ya get yourself a molecular muscle enhancer or something? Because, y’know, I heard those things aren’t too healthy for you after a while…”

   Shego raised the backs of her hands to Ron and fluttered her fingers while scornfully demanding; “See any rings, Sidekick? No? Then how about the extra foot of height and arms the size of tree trunks?”

   “Ok; ok; no need to get all snippy about it. My bad…” Ron replied testily while raising his palms to the irritated woman. “Soooo…?”

   “So yeah, it’s all hard work and me, nothing else.” Shego dropped her left hand back to her side while flicking her right index finger around toward Kim, indicating the redhead as she idly added; “You can blame ‘Little-Miss-Kick-My-Ass’ there and Tall, Dark, and Stripy for it.”

   “Awww man!” Ron immediately griped after a single short second’s pause, his animated features twisting into an annoyed scowl. “What is it with everyone I know getting ripped?” The aggravated blond shook his head while loudly grumbling; “What’s next? Drakken showing up in one of those black leather and chrome strappy things, all oiled up with power pecs and fab abs like that guy in Road Warrior?”

   Shego stared at Ron for a long three-count, like a deer caught in headlights. Then she swiftly turned away from the teenager and hunched over slightly, hands flying up to dig the tips of rigidly curled fingers into the top of her bowed head as she screwed her eyes tightly shut and, with her exotic features twisted into a mask of pure torment and disgust, screeched; “Oh god, why the hell did you put that in my head? Gaaaaaahhhhhh…!”

   A few seconds later, the paler-than-usual woman straightened up and shot a flashing glare at the blond teenager while her tensed arms whipped down to put her into a familiar, aggressive stance—the only thing missing was the undulating glow of her lime-green cosmic energy.

   “There isn’t enough brain bleach in the entire world to undo what you just did,” Shego shouted vehemently, “and the only reason I don’t blow you out of those sandals and into the middle of next week for it is standing right next to you!”

   “I’m ahhh… kinda almost with Shego on this one, Ron.” A queasy looking Kim chimed in a few seconds later, once she’d recovered her wits as well.

   “Yeah, I’m not exactly too happy about it either, now…” Ron replied contritely as his mind finally caught up with what he’d said while his mouth had been on autopilot, a distinctly… uncomfortable, expression marring his youthful features now. On his shoulder, Rufus stuck out his tongue in a not-so-mock gagging gesture while exclaiming; “Blech!”

   “Yeah, anyway,” almost involuntarily, Shego gave her head a series of sharp little shakes, “let’s never, ever talk about this again, shall we?”

   “Agreed!” Ron and Kim immediately answered in near perfect harmony, each of them more than happy to put the unexpected shift in conversation as far behind them as they possibly could.

   An uneasy silence descended upon the group as Shego relaxed her stance and led everyone to her cabana—likely as much a result of the crowd now staring at them because of their loud, sequential outbursts as it was from any lingering sense of distress over mental images better left forgotten. That uncomfortable quiet lasted all the way to the only empty area remaining in a sea of square, blue bordered, cookie-cutter awnings before it finally gave way to a more relaxed air as Shego, Ron, and Kim set their various belongings down on the high-end beach chairs there.

   “Oi, Wiener Rat, are you staying here, or do I need to pay some idiot to watch our stuff while we’re gone?’ Shego queried to Rufus as she noticed the naked mole rat settling in on one of the small drink tables between the chairs.

   Rufus looked up from where he was folding a heavy piece of cardboard he’d gotten from who-knew-where into a miniature beach chair and nodded, fanning his whiskers and grinning as he merrily chirped; “Y’eh-huh! Sle’py; sun nice!”

   “Well, that’s one less thing to worry about then.” Shego asserted confidently as she turned and casually rested her hands on her broad hips while looking out at the tourist-filled surf beyond.

   “So ahhh, where are ‘we’ going exactly?” Ron asked as he walked over to stand beside the older woman.

   “Well, from previous experience with Kimmie, I’m assuming the two of you won’t want to just sit around in the sun for a few hours before you’ve done something ‘fun’ first, so we’re going to go do that so I can start getting my daily dose of vitamin D as soon as I can.”

   “Hey, I don’t mind just sitting back and catching some rays while chillaxin’; we don’t have to do anything…” Ron responded with a good deal of earnest enthusiasm, while at nearly the exact same time, Kim stepped up alongside Shego and, in a soft, indulgent tone, said; “You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to, Shego.”

   Shego’s glossy, black-stained lips twitched into a ghost of a smile as she glanced at Ron and then Kim while saying to each of them in turn; “Yes, we do… and yes, I do.” A moment later she firmly concluded; “Now, let’s get going.”

   With that, the green-hued woman turned and led the two teens back through the perfectly straight rows of cabana awnings and then down the sandy golden beach, where, after climbing a few short sets of stone stairs built into the raised breakwater, they eventually ended up at the marina.

   Strolling down the docks a short distance, Shego came to a stop in front of what seemed to be a boat rental establishment. Looking at Ron, she casually gestured to the available craft while confirming that impression as she stated; “Pick your poison, Sidekick; wave runners, wakeboarding, or parasailing…”

   Taking a step closer to the edge of the dock, Ron looked everything over before raising an eyebrow and muttering to no one in particular; “Well, after what happened at the X Games last year, I’ve got nooooooo interest in wakeboarding or parasailing whatsoever…” Ron’s somewhat petulant expression softened into a generally perplexed one as he continued, “but I’ve been on wave runners a bunch of times with Kim, too, so…” A moment later he looked at Shego and eagerly inquired; “Hey, can I drive the boat?”

   “Depends; can you hold a steady course in a straight line at high speeds?”

   “Ye-ah.” Ron shot back with irreverent confidence.

   “Well then I guess you can drive the boat.” Shego responded dryly.

   “Awesome; wakeboarding it is then!” Ron grinned broadly as he picked the activity that required the fastest speed.

   “So ahhh… what exactly happened at the X Games last year?” Shego couldn’t resist asking as the group headed over to the rental attendant.

   “Don’t ask!” Ron and Kim immediately responded in near-perfect harmony.

   Given the flat finality of their tight-lipped tones, Shego decided she didn’t really need her curiosity satisfied that much—besides, she could always look it up on the Internet later.

   One short transaction mainly consisting of Shego saying “Put it on my tab…” later, the trio boarded a reasonably speedy-looking boat outfitted with a wakeboarding tower and, after running through a basic engine and safety check, set out for the open sea—though not without a bit of petulant protest from Ron over Shego refusing to let him take the boat out through the crowded confines of the harbor proper. Once they cleared the harbor and the long, extended breakwater, however, the older woman made good on her agreement, relinquishing control of the boat to Ron—with the firm understanding that he was to continue out to sea for another quarter-mile before trying anything more complicated than going in a straight line at moderate speed.

   From there, the waterborne group of thrill-seekers spent the next hour or so engaging in very close to extreme—if not downright insane—and most definitely professional-caliber high-speed aqua acrobatics, as Kim and Shego took their turns executing everything from the most basic to most complicated, challenging moves possible while wakeboarding, flipping and spiraling and whipping around in tight, near-perfectly controlled and executed, and, at times, utterly sick displays of wakeboard stunting. That was more or less par for the course for the two highly athletic, competitively driven women however, and hardly surprising at all. What was surprising, both to Kim and Ron, was that somehow, some way, Shego actually managed to convince Ron to take a turn out on the board, despite his previously stated, firmly entrenched reservations. On top of that, the blond was able to last his way through well over six minutes of, admittedly at times entirety unintentional and absolutely panicked, wakeboard maneuvers that at least approached the level—though definitely not the casual proficiency—of those Kim and Shego had been performing, before he inevitably lost control and crashed and splashed into an only somewhat spectacular wipeout—a wipeout that doubled as the definitive end of his run as well. It was a good-natured abandonment of the activity to be sure, but a firm, clear-cut conclusion nonetheless, despite repeated, equally good-natured attempts on the part of both women to convince him otherwise.

   With that, the noticeably cheerful trio came to the mutual agreement that their “fun quota” was all topped up and they could head in now. Shego was even in such a good mood that when they started getting close to the harbor, she offered to let Ron continue on in and dock the boat if he wanted—though she certainly wasn’t so relaxed as to forgo a mostly friendly, if completely serious, obligatory threat that if any damage occurred to the craft, the repair costs would be coming out of his pocket, not hers. Given that Ron’s knowledge of boat repair costs consisted solely of an abruptly nervous, if coincidentally accurate, estimate of “way more than my meager pocketbook can withstand,” and knowing with far greater accuracy just how much his parents would flip out if they received a bill in his name with too many zeroes attached to it, the teenager wisely gave over control of the boat to Shego rather than risk bringing it in himself.

   After disembarking, the group navigated their way back along the docks, down the breakwater stairs, and halfway up the beach before Kim brought Ron and Shego to a halt as she paused and, with an optimistic lilt, announced; “I’m going to go for a swim; anyone want to come with me?”

   “Ahhh, yeah—no. I think I’ve had enough ocean for today, KP.” Ron responded petulantly while wringing some more water out of the front of his t-shirt.

   “And you know me, Princess,” Shego chimed in with the merest hint of gentle contrition, “I’m not exactly the biggest fan of water in the first place, so I’m just going to go rinse off this brine, and maybe get some lemonade, before I lie down to soak up as much of this nice warm sunlight as I can while it’s still high noon.”

   “Ok then, I guess I’ll see you two later.” Kim replied with a cheerful, easygoing acceptance, while at the same time, Ron muttered; “Oh yeah, right. Saltwater. Great. Guess I need to wash off too…” A moment later he concluded the verbal train of thought in a much more animated tone as he added; “Maybe grab Rufus and go get something to eat, too.”

   As Ron and Shego headed for the outdoor shower area slightly further inland, and Kim set out in the opposite direction, toward the distant ocean surf, the pale beauty glanced at the blond while demanding; “How in the hell can you possibly think of eating after that big-ass lunch you just had?”

   “Ahhh, because that lunch was over an hour ago and I’m still a growing boy?” Ron tossed the flip response back without pause.

   “Growing lardass maybe…” Shego muttered under her breath. A moment later, she gave her head a little shake, washing her hands of the matter with an irreverent and much more audible; “Whatever; not my problem—knock yourself out, Sidekick. Just don’t go buying anything from a push-cart vendor, ok?”

   “And why’s that?” Ron asked with a faint air of suspicion.

   “Trust me, you don’t want to know…” Shego responded flatly.

   “Oh—got it!” a now somewhat wide-eyed, uneasy looking Ron responded to the grim yet completely sincere statement. “Ahhh, thanks, I guess…”

   Shego neither took issue with nor responded to Ron’s final comment, knowing full well where the teenager’s reluctance stemmed from—she certainly wished she didn’t know what she knew about this particular subject either. Then again, if she didn’t, who knew how many times she might have ended up eating something… unpleasant, from those selfsame suspect sources instead? The older woman couldn’t help a small, unconscious shiver at the thought; ignorance might be bliss, but in cases like this, she’d take misery every time.

   With the conversation more or less killed, the pair continued on in relative silence—all the more so when Ron suddenly realized that he’d been left alone with Shego… Not that he hadn’t been alone with Shego before; several times in fact… Of course, nearly all of those times had ended with her trying to inflict severe bodily harm upon him, and that was before she looked like she could break him in half without even trying!

   Aaagggh! Stop thinking about that! Ron silently berated himself. Kim wouldn’t have left me alone with her if there were any chance of that happening, and Shego can’t do anything to me if she’s really interested in Kim either! Even that psycho-witch-freak Corscan knew better than that! And even if this is an evil plot, she still can’t do anything to me without ruining it anyway, so there! Especially not here, out in the open, where everyone else can see! Ron reverted to panic-mode a few seconds later, when he couldn’t help but continue thinking; What am I talking about? This is a woman who robs government labs in broad daylight without a disguise! What the heck does she care if there’re witnesses or not? A few seconds later, the teenager was back to shaky self-reassurance. No, no; back to square one; plot or not, she can’t hurt me so long as she wants to stay on Kim’s good side, right? Right! The worst I’ve got to worry about right now is snippy sarcasm and mocking, and that never killed anyone… Of course, if there was a way to kill someone with sarcasm, I’m pretty sure she’d be the first one to figure out how!

   To say that the anxious teenager spent as little time as humanly possible at the showers once they reached them would have been an exaggeration, but only just, as Ron definitely rinsed off and parted company with Shego in a somewhat ill-concealed and entirely nervous rush. Fortunately, the quick departure was handily covered by the amount of extra time and effort the pale woman had to put into dealing with her long, resplendent mane of midnight-green hair—after all, what was he supposed to do? Stand there watching her in her skimpy bikini while the shower spray ran down every inch of her slick, exposed flesh as she twisted and stretched beneath it like some pale panther enjoying a heavy rain? Ron was fairly sure that would get him an emerald enema from Shego far faster than taking off on her would, and as it was, given her preoccupation with nearly three feet of thoroughly drenched hair, the teenager was all but certain the older woman hadn’t even noticed his swift exit anyway.

   Quickly heading back to the canvas cabana while thoroughly wringing out his once more soaked shirt, Ron found Rufus sprawled out in his improvised beach chair, an air of contented indulgence about the naked mole rat as he sunned himself in the hot noonday light—though he did open a single sharp, gleaming eye at the sound of Ron’s approach, despite his supremely languid appearance. Upon seeing that it was simply his owner approaching, Rufus closed his eye again, returning to his previous relaxation with a contented grin.

   “Hey, little buddy, did you have a nice nap?” Ron asked amiably as he unrolled his now completely wrung-out t-shirt and flapped it several times, trying to get some semblance of straightness back into the damp, wrinkled fabric.

   “Un-huh.” Rufus answered without opening his eyes.

   With his shirt looking more or less like a shirt once more, Ron pulled it on over his head before raking his disheveled hair back from his face with several sweeps of his hands. Then he sat down on a nearby chair, pulled his beach bag out from beneath the drink table he’d stashed it under, and started rooting around in it, looking for his wallet while absentmindedly stating; “I’m going to go get something to drink, maybe a snack too—you wanna come?”

   Given that over the last hour, the naked mole rat’s volcanic gut and upper digestive tract had already made short work of his comparatively huge lunch, Rufus immediately opened his bright, inky black eyes and sat up intently, a broad, toothy grin below his fanned whiskers as he nodded vigorously and chirped; “Y’ah! Y’ah!”

   “Well, let’s get going then.” Ron grinned enthusiastically as he stepped over to the second table and held his right hand out to Rufus, palm up.

   Bouncing off his miniature beach chair even as Ron lifted his hand, Rufus landed on all fours and paused for an instant, gathering himself and gauging the leap before springing over to his owner’s palm. Then he bounded up Ron’s arm all the way to the teenager’s shoulder with his usual uncanny agility and ease, scurrying around to face forward and settle in for the ride a moment later.

   With naked mole rat now firmly in place, Ron set out for the mid-sized boardwalk at the edge of the beach, built right where land turned into sand. As he left the sea of canvas cabanas and made his way up the sun-baked beach, the observant teen noticed that he was still well ahead of Shego, who was only now finishing up at the showers—not that it was a race or anything, but if it was, he would be in the lead by a hefty margin. That held true right up until he hit the boardwalk and, after discounting every single pushcart and “healthy” food and juice vendor he saw, ended up in a sprawling lineup for the only serious looking snack food counter around, whereupon any lead he might have had slowly but surely evaporated as he ground to a near halt behind at least fifteen people standing in front of him—though after several quick, craning looks, Ron was relieved to see that at least a third of them appeared to be couples standing together, which meant that (theoretically) their orders would go faster. Or at least he hoped they would…

   After a borderline unbearable wait under the hot noonday sun, Ron finally made it to the head of the line and, now convinced he needed something stronger than a cold drink, ordered a pair of double-scoop ice cream cones and a big paper sachet of fried mozzarella balls for himself and Rufus. Unfortunately, as he was leaving with snacks in hand a minute or two later, he made the mistake of paying more attention to an exceptionally well-put-together bathing beauty than to where he was going. That resulted in his right thigh and hip slamming into a heavy, freestanding wooden post as he absentmindedly meandered off course while taking in the scantily clad sight. The violent impact immediately sent him spinning around and stumbling backward in a desperate attempt to keep his feet under him as he let out a sharp cry of alarm, all while Rufus dug his claws into the backpedaling blond’s t-shirt in an equally desperate attempt to keep from flying off his reeling perch.

   Just as Ron thought he was going down despite his frantic footwork, his back hit something that immediately gave way under the impact, but still managed to bounce him off it just enough to recover his balance, allowing him to come to a stop instead of falling over.

   “Whew, that was close…” Ron said to himself thankfully.

   A split-second later, the blond found himself whirling around at an outraged bellow from behind him, only to discover a well-built, well-tanned, and well-beyond-angry young man standing there with orange soda streaming down his bare, muscular chest and six-pack abs to stain his long white cotton shorts.

   “Oh, jeez; sorry man! It was an accident, really!” Ron hastily apologized.

   Despite Ron’s readily apparent air of embarrassed contrition, the irate man was having none of it, immediately unleashing a loud, sharp tirade of rapid-fire Italian while violently crushing the oversized, now mostly empty cardboard cup he held, sending bits of ice flying as the flimsy container crumpled under his trembling, white-knuckled grip. At the same time, another two somewhat less physically developed young men moved to flank the furious native, one wearing a tight, sleeveless t-shirt and boxing shorts, the other sporting khaki shorts, an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt, and sunglasses, and both of them scowling darkly; the one in sunglasses going so far as to add a few obviously disdainful comments to the big man’s outburst—not that Ron understood any of that either; after nearly four weeks of constant exposure to French, he might have been able to muddle out a few simple things in Italian if they were coming in slow, but this was anything but slow and simple.

   “Look, really, it was just an accident! I’m sorry! Lemme get you another drink on me and we’ll call it even, ok?” Ron responded ruefully, still trying to diffuse the situation.

   Raising his arm, the seething, red-faced Italian hurled his mangled drink cup aside and took a step forward, so that he was very nearly shouting directly into Ron’s face while gesturing heatedly with both beefy arms. Then, before Ron could even begin to answer—or even get a humble word in edgewise—the teenager suddenly found himself hurtling back through the air to land hard on the sand next to the boardwalk, snacks flying from his out-flung hands while, at the same time, Rufus flew from his shoulder to land in a tumbling, acrobatic roll that brought the now furious, growling rodent to his paws largely unharmed.

   As Ron pushed himself up from the sand and half sat there in a daze, he tried to work out what was happening through suddenly whirling, disjoined thoughts; why did his chest, back, and behind hurt so much? How had he ended up on the ground? And who were the three angry looking men standing in front of him on the boardwalk, the center one shouting so harshly?

   Before the teenager managed to get more than halfway through those answers, or halfway to his feet for that matter, he felt a pair of strong feminine hands grasp his sides from behind, right below his arms, hauling him upright and then remaining in place just long enough to steady his balance, so that he had his feet planted firmly beneath him once more.

   “Thanks, KP, I—” Ron cut off sharply as, much to his shock, he found Shego stepping up to stand next to him instead of his reliable redheaded friend.

   Ignoring Ron completely, Shego sent a barrage of Italian back at the three men confronting him, focusing mainly on the big one in the center that had brutally straight-armed him onto his back a few moments earlier. The trio all shot replies back, their words a jumbled conflict as they all spoke over one another, until the one in the center silenced his friends with a quick, snappish shout to each of them in turn. After a minute or two of various back-and-forths, one of the men made a long, derisive spiel that, despite his not understanding a word of it, Ron still somehow knew was a cut about his letting a woman fight his battles for him.

   “Hey!” the blond shouted indignantly, taking a half-step forward, but before he could do anything more, Shego said something to the three now laughing men that abruptly wiped the mirth from their faces. A second later the one in the middle snarled something plainly uncomplimentary back at her, to which she gave a seemingly equally acerbic response.

   Pulling off his sunglasses, the man to the right came to the defense of his friend with a much harder, more severe-sounding statement than anything anyone had said up to that point, all while the trio took on a far more serious, threatening air.

   Shego gave the man a narrow-eyed stare, holding his gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then she lifted her right hand, which was balled in a loose fist, and spoke with an eerily calm, cold voice that was hard as nails, after which she flicked her index finger in his direction, sending a thin dart of brilliant lime-green fire flashing through the air to blow his sunglasses right out of his hand.

   As the man jerked and cried out in pain and alarm, shaking his hand sharply from the stinging aftereffects of the close-proximity miniature concussion blast, his two wide-eyed friends quickly recovered from their shock and brought their hands up, assuming aggressive street fighting stances while the bigger of the two shouted furious threats at the pale woman. Shego, on the other hand, did nothing more than let her arm drop while not even bothering to summon more of her scintillating cosmic energy, such was her contempt for the trio of toughs before her. However, even as Ron looked every-which-way in concern—though in whose concern, he wasn’t exactly certain, other than that it sure as heck wasn’t Shego’s—a strange, questioning look came into the eyes of the street tough on the right. A second later, that look was easily identified as recognition as he swiftly abandoned his aggressive stance, instead reaching out to grab his heavyset friend’s arm and pull him to a halt just as the big man started to step toward Shego.

   The antagonistic man immediately turned his head to shout a question at his suddenly cautious friend, and a moment later all three were shouting at each other while occasionally sparing a glance at Shego, who, given she could understand what they were saying, had already taken up an impatient stance with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, a plainly irritated scowl lending a severe cast to her otherwise exotic features. As the trio argued, their voices dropped even as their demeanor slowly but surely shifted to wary, even a little fearful—though certainly not from the surly powerhouse in the middle. A mere handful of moments later, the street toughs’ attitudes had flipped to humble—or grudging, in the case of the big man with the stained shorts—respect as they quickly and profusely apologized while backing away from Shego and Ron as fast as they could without seeming to run away. Once they got enough distance, the trio turned and swiftly headed for town, disappearing from sight as they left the boardwalk entirely.

   “Ahhh, thanks, I guess…” Ron said a moment later, while Rufus, having regained his usual perch on Ron’s shoulder, nodded and chittered his vigorous agreement with that sentiment. “But I probably could have handled that on my own.”

   “Maybe… but we’ll never know now, will we, Sidekick?” Shego answered absentmindedly as she continued watching the narrow lane the three young men had vanished down. A few moments later, she turned to find the teenager staring at her silently. “What?”

   “Well ahhh…” Ron hesitated for a moment, then asked; “Not that I’m not grateful and all, but I gotta ask… whyyyy exactly did you help me? I mean; you do know that I’m not planning on turning evil again anytime soon, right?”

   “Well, whereas I’ll be the first to admit that you’re a serious pain in the ass at times, apparently you’re my pain in the ass now, too—whether I want you or not—so keeping you in one piece is part of the package.” Shego responded dryly, then flippantly added; “And if you ever turn evil again, I’m probably moving to a condo on the moon or something…”

   “Hunh? Why’s that?” Ron immediately questioned—even Rufus looked confused at the statement.

   Shego raised an eyebrow just a hair and smacked her lips once, dryly, before answering.

   “When you go evil, you go scary evil, Sidekick—like, baby-eating, nuke a city just to prove a point scary evil—and whereas I might be willing work with or for that kind of evil on a short-term, case-by-case basis if the price is right, I’m well aware that my life expectancy takes a big ol’ nosedive the longer I keep swimming that far down the dark end of the bell-curve—one way or another, anyway.”

   “Or in other words,” Shego added after a slight pause, “I’ve got no interest in playing Harley Quinn to your Joker again, Sidekick, and I know enough to get outta Dodge if a tornado’s comin’ through, too.”

   “I see…” Ron replied after a moment’s consideration. “Well, good to know then—I guess…” Shaking his head, the blond looked around for a moment, and then pulled one of his trademark subject changes as his gaze passed over the ruined remains of the ice cream cones he’d bought. “Awww man! Now I’m going to have to wait in line all over again!”

   “Hey, don’t look at me,” Shego quickly raised her palms in a distancing gesture, “I’ve done my part in cleaning up this mess, the rest is on you. I’ll just be over there getting my lemonade so I can get back to getting some time in the sun, ‘K?”

   With that, Shego headed off to the much less crowded drink-stand she’d pointed to, walking away without so much as another glance at Ron. That left the teenager grumbling and muttering to himself irritably as he stepped over to the back of the line for the snack counter again—way, way to the back of it—and settled in for yet another long wait. It didn’t exactly help his mood when Rufus abandoned his owner’s shoulder in favor of scampering off to scavenge the remains of their spilled food, enthusiastically devouring any part of it that wasn’t covered in sand or resting on the ground—sometimes the advantages the naked mole rat held from being an animal were beyond annoying to the blond…

   Even so, Ron was more or less back to his easygoing self by the time he returned to the cabana, having put the largely unpleasant experience behind him. Such was the extent of his renewed good cheer that upon finding Shego already there, reclining on one of the long canvas beach chairs, he was only slightly perturbed by the thought of being alone with her once more—though he did make sure to take the chair farthest away from her as he sat down to finish his ice-cream. After that, Ron and Rufus found themselves imitating the pale woman as, with a lazy, relaxed air of indulgence, they both settled into their respective seats to enjoy the warm summer sun, all while maintaining a general silence that was far more mutual, unspoken agreement between the three than anything nervous.

   A not so short while later, Kim returned still damp from sea and shower, only to pause for a few moments, a soft little smile curling her lips at the sight of her best friend and her girlfriend lying there so peacefully (even if it was at opposite ends of the cabana, with a chair and two tables between the two of them). However, despite the warm feelings of contentment she was experiencing, Kim had no choice but to bring an end to the idyllic scene, as she could hardly stand there watching it forever. With the acknowledgement of that less than welcome reality came action, as the redhead made her way over to the last remaining chair and sat down, her presence invariably drawing the attention of her two companions.

   “Hey, KP—how’d the swim go?” Ron asked as he half sat up in his chair, while on the table next to him, Rufus cracked open one eye just enough to see what was happening.

   “Pretty good. I went all the way up to La Grotta di Tiberio before coming back.” Kim answered while hunting for her bottle of sunscreen.

   “You do realize that’s over half a mile away, right?” Shego queried dryly, one sable eyebrow cocked high.

   “Yep. That’s why it was only ‘pretty good’; took me nearly twenty-five minutes to finish.” Kim answered, a wry smile making her chipper tone something else entirely.

   Shego gave her head an infinitesimal shake, cutting her eyes upward while a faint, amused smile softened her stage mutter of; “You just [I]looove[/I] to push yourself for no other reason than to do it, don’t you, Princess?”

   Kim didn’t bother answering, both because it was obvious Shego was teasing, and she didn’t feel like playing that game right now, despite having technically started it, and because absent that incentive, the equally obvious answer made the question entirely rhetorical. What she did ask, as she finally located her sunscreen and pulled it out, was; “Can you help me put some of this on my back, please?”

   “Sure, no problem.”

   The quick, assumptive reply came from behind Kim, where Ron was already sitting up and twisting around to slide his legs off the side of his chair, there to come to an abrupt halt as he noticed the look Shego was giving him, head tilted his way and eyebrows raised high while dark, dubious green eyes stared over the top of violet-lensed Lennon glasses as she paused in the act of sitting up as well. At the same time, the suddenly stalled teen saw that Kim was now looking at him over her shoulder, a mixture of apology and chagrin on her faintly flushed features.

   “Oh… ahhh… yeah. I guess you would be the one to handle that now, wouldn’t you?” The much more noticeably red-faced blond hastily stammered, immediately realizing that he'd just absentmindedly stumbled into the classic pitfall of “never assume, because it makes an ass out of u and me” with his supposition—though in his own defense, Kim had been asking him for that very same favor on a regular basis since before they were twelve.

   “Damn straight…” Shego grumbled, albeit good-naturedly, a wry, amused smirk curling her black lips as she finished sitting up and turned to face Kim.

   By joint, unspoken agreement, Kim and Ron averted their gazes from one another, doing their level best to act like the incident had never occurred. As Kim pulled her legs up and twisted around in order to allow Shego access to her back, the blond returned to his previous laid-back position before closing his eyes, interlacing his fingers, and resting his hands atop his stomach in a picture-perfect façade of leisurely ease. He also tried extra, extra hard to ignore everything that was going on right next to him, both because it was a huge, pulsating ball of wrongsick weirdness, and because despite Kim being his best friend since pre-K and Shego being… well, Shego, the idea of a bottle of suntan lotion, stroking hands, and two undeniably hot, scantily clad women who were actually into one another was just a little bit more than he thought he could handle with… dignity, so to speak.

   Whether or not he was right about that, Ron still managed to get through the whole uncomfortable situation without… incident, and after that, everyone settled in for a long stretch of quiet relaxation beneath the bright noonday sun. That warm, lazy indulgence lasted for well over half an hour before the relative silence was broken by a muted, but nevertheless insistent beeping coming from somewhere deep inside Shego’s oversized sack-purse. This in turn prompted the woman’s grudging retrieval of said handbag as she sighed and went searching for the source of the persistent chirp, while next to her, Kim raised herself up onto her elbows slightly and looked over with an inquisitive hum, followed by an only somewhat idle question.

   “Time to go?”

   “Think so…” Shego responded absentmindedly as she kept digging through her purse. A few moments later, she pulled out her chiming cell phone and flipped it open. After a quick glance, she silenced the device with an equally quick press of her thumb, and then looked over to Kim while confirming; “Yeah, time to go.”

   On the other side of Kim, Ron finally stirred to life as well, pushing himself upright while blinking and demanding; “Wait a minute… time to go? But we just got here!” As both women turned to stare at him, the blond sheepishly amended; “Well, a couple of hours ago I mean…”

   With a swift sigh, Kim reluctantly responded; “Sorry, Ron, but even on weekends, I have to put in so many hours a day working on my car if I want to have it street ready before school starts.”

   “Oh, ok then.” Ron replied amiably, making it all the way up and around to a full sitting position with his legs over the side of the chair before Kim’s words finally sank in, whereupon he immediately ground to a halt. A split-second later, his head snapped up sharply as he stared at the redhead while giving strident voice to his confusion; “Wait, what? Since when do you have a car?” There was the slightest of pauses before the disconcerted teenager added; “And for that matter, since when do you work on cars…?”

   Kim’s lion’s mane of dark red hair swept back and forth as she made a little face and rolled her eyes while shaking her head, pointedly grumbling; “Ever since someone decided I need to know how to field-strip a ‘fifty-seven Chevy and rewire my own house!”

   “Hey,” Shego snapped reflexively, “a working knowledge of mechanical and electrical systems and the basic repair skills that come with it are handy things to have, especially in our line of work, and you know it—that’s why you agreed to learn them, remember?”

   “Just because I happen to agree with you doesn’t change the fact that it’s all been grimy, slimy, gunky, disgusting ick that I’d rather not have to do!” Kim griped with a faint shudder while gathering up her things.

   “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Shego gently chided as she stood up and started collecting her things as well.

   “Says the woman who can clean off her hands whenever she wants in under two seconds flat.” Kim immediately rejoined, albeit with a wry grin.

   Next to the feisty, currently disgruntled redhead, Ron was still sitting there staring up at her and Shego in shock. Despite his longtime friend’s numerous atypical interests for a teenage girl, he knew that Kim was still very much the “basic, average girl” when it came to certain things, and spending hours messing around with dirty engines and tools was definitely one of those things. The blond didn’t know what was more amazing, the fact that Shego had managed to talk her into it, or the weird way the two of them were arguing like an old married couple over it—though he was absolutely certain which was the more disturbing of the two.

   Shaking his head as Rufus jumped over to his shoulder, Ron finally started moving again, grabbing his beach bag from next to his chair and getting up while asking; “Ohhhh-kay, but that still doesn’t explain you having a car.”

   “Oh, Shego bought me this old car to work on while I’m learning this stuff.” Kim replied matter-of-factly. “This is the first day we’ll be working on it actually; I spent all last week fixing a stupid lawn mower and a blender in order to work my way up to it.”

   On the other side of the redhead, Shego cleared her throat loudly.

   “Sorry,” Kim muttered with another little shake of her head and roll of her eyes, clearly exasperated as she clarified; “Shego bought me a classic 1971 Pontiac GTO hardtop coupe, which we shall be restoring over the remainder of the summer.”

   “And I didn’t buy it for you either,” Shego added firmly as she gave one last look around the cabana to see if she’d forgotten anything before leaving. “You still owe me five grand until you’ve put enough work into that car to pay off that debt, Princess; don’t forget that!”

   “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Kim offhandedly dismissed Shego’s statement while following along behind her as the other woman set out for the car. “I agreed to learn this stuff before I knew you were going to go out and buy me a car to learn it on, so that means that for all intents and purposes, you bought me a car, because if I was going to do the work anyway, it isn’t paying off anything.”

   “It is if I don’t give you the damn thing because you quit or you don’t put enough effort into learning what I’m going to the trouble of teaching you!”

   “Shego!” Kim exclaimed sharply at the other woman’s impugning of her dedication and work ethic. “You know I don’t do things like that!”

   Trailing along behind the two women, Ron knew of several things he could bring up to contradict that statement, but he was nowhere near foolish enough to do so. Besides, somehow, in some sublimely surreal way, he was actually starting to enjoy the whole wrongsick weirdness playing out in front of him. It was just so… bizarre, that he couldn’t help but be interested in the show. He only wished he had a bag of popcorn to go along with it…

   The high point of that entertainment came about a half-hour later, when, after returning to Shego’s villa and getting changed out of their beach attire, Ron got to see his best friend and, even more unbelievably, Shego coming down the stairs dressed in very close to matching pairs of white t-shirts and denim overalls. Even knowing full well the likely repercussions he faced from the two females, it took every ounce of the blond’s none-too-great-to-begin-with willpower to keep from bursting into gales of laughter at the sight, and he was sure he did some serious harm to his sinuses with the sharp, strangled snort that had resulted as he initially clamped down on his laugh-reflex. Unfortunately, the amusement factor slowly but surely went downhill from that point onward—not that there weren’t other things to hold the teenager’s interest once they got out to the garage.

   Ron spent quite some time wandering around while admiring Shego’s many sports cars and motorcycles before eventually ending up in the large, fully equipped auto shop the woman maintained, watching as she and Kim worked on the beat-up vehicle currently ensconced there, and even helping out as a gofer or extra pair of hands from time to time. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing the teenager had ever done, but it was interesting enough he supposed, and more importantly, the longer Ron watched, the more perversely fascinating he found it all to be—or rather, the more fascinating he found the interaction between Kim and Shego to be.

   Despite the redhead’s notable attitude towards the activity—or at least, elements of it—the older woman was surprisingly calm, patient, and understanding while instructing Kim in the mysteries of auto repair, and only reverted to the snippy, scathing sarcasm Ron was more familiar with when Kim allowed that attitude to undermine her concentration and commitment to the task. So long as Kim was giving an honest, if at times frustrated, effort, Shego remained uncharacteristically… un-Shego-like with her. In turn, Kim only reacted to Shego’s less… agreeable, demeanor in the manner Ron was accustom to for short, reflexive bursts before—sometimes with visible effort—stepping back and taking a few moments—and the occasional deep breath—to calm down and refocus her conduct into something more constructive. In short, it was the most amount of times Ron had ever seen his feisty redheaded friend back down from confrontation in his entire life.

   All in all, the atypical way the two women were interacting certainly wasn’t the strangest thing Ron had ever witnessed in his short but eventful life, but as far as he was concerned, it definitely ranked a strong eight-point-five on his weird-o-meter, if not higher, and it just sort of… sucked him in, to the point where he barely even noticed the time flying by—when it all finally came to an abrupt end with a sudden burst of frustration from Kim, the teenager was amazed to find that over two hours had passed.

   “God damn it! Why the fuck won’t this thing start!” Kim shouted loudly after her latest failed attempt to get the Judge’s engine to turn over, slamming both hands against the steering wheel and then climbing out of the car in a vexed, red-faced huff.

   No longer fazed by his friend’s cursing, given it had risen to a near-constant as her inability to apply her usual “I can do anything” aptitude to what she considered a tiresome, unpleasant undertaking continued unabated, Ron casually gave Kim an answer over his shoulder while looking through Shego’s extensive, well-organized collection of torque wrenches, sockets, and extension attachments.

   “It’s your intake valves…”

   “Oh how would you know?” An irked Kim snapped reflexively.

   Still looking at the wrenches, Ron didn’t even turn his head this time as he gave his nonchalant, matter-of-fact reply.

   “Because I’ve managed to keep my old scooter up and running for the last four years now, and it’s always the intake valves when it’s not the starter or the distributor? I mean, I just watched you drain, flush, and replace all the oil in the pan and gas in the tank, check the fuel lines and the fuel pump, and put a new battery and plugs into the thing on top of checking the starter and the distributor, so if wasn’t any of those and you still haven’t found any leaks yet, there you go…”

   At the same time, Rufus abandoned his narrow perch atop the left wall of the engine well and hopped over to the air filter, scurrying around the outer edge in short little bursts as he peered down into the guts of the machine while nodding and chattering; “Uh’huh, uh’huh; valves!”

   Before the redhead had time to do more than draw breath to respond, Shego spoke up from her place in front of the car, halfway between Kim and Ron.

   “Don’t agree with the ‘always’, but Sidekick’s got a point, Kimmie.” As Kim turned her head to stare at the older woman in surprise, Shego gently continued; “You got all the basics for starting up an old, neglected motor just right, Princess, but you also got hung up on them too, and forgot to check for less common problems like a cracked block, seized pistons, and yes,” Shego looked over to Ron, “the valves.” After a slight pause, she added; “It also probably doesn’t help that we got started so late; you must be getting pretty hungry by now, am I right?”

   Kim vented a high, nasal sound of pent-up frustration and scuffed the sole of her heavy, steel-toed work boot against the smooth concrete floor with a short, arcing kick, petulantly muttering; “I just want to get this stupid thing started already!”

   “Well, be that as it may, it’ll have to wait ‘til tomorrow, Pumpkin’; it’s past time we clean up here and head in for supper.”

   “Wait, can’t we just check the valves first?” Kim immediately protested, proving yet again that her innate, competitive nature and drive to excel could motivate some truly contrary behavior at times.

   “Ahhh, no.” Shego replied firmly, a wry smile on her black-stained lips. “If we’re going to check the valves, then we need to pull the whole engine and check everything else while we’re at it, and that’ll take at least a few hours just to get it out.”

   “Awww, man!”

   On the other side of the garage, one of Ron’s eyebrows rose up quizzically as he thought to himself; Isn’t that supposed to be my line?

   “Patience, Kimmie, patience,” Shego chided gently; “this kind of work takes time, and any job worth doing—”

   “—is a job worth doing well.” Kim finished, though her dull, unenthusiastic monotone and resigned expression were certainly at odds with the sentiment.

   “Exactly,” Shego responded with a grin and a chuckle, understanding full well where the redhead’s less-than-reverent attitude was coming from. “Now let’s get all this stuff straightened up so we can go get something to eat, ok?”

   Dropping her head with a soft, wistful little sigh, Kim stared at the pale grey floor for a moment before looking up again, answering; “Alright.”

   Once she actually started putting everything away, however, Kim’s reluctance quickly evaporated as, no longer distracted by the frustrating challenge of working on the Judge, she noticed just how hungry she really was. From there, it was all downhill as the teenager’s growing sense of hunger quickly became her primary focus, pushing almost everything else out of her head with its gnawing insistence.

   Meanwhile, instead of helping Kim tidy up, Shego stepped over to one side of the auto shop and checked the time on her watch. Then she looked up in the general direction of her motorcycles, a pensive expression on her pale, exotic features as she spent nearly a minute staring off into space before suddenly turning and heading over to Ron.

   “Oi, Sidekick, gimme your Kimmunicator for a minute.” Holding out her hand as she made the demand, Shego flicked her first two fingers towards herself insistently.

   Clearly suspicious, and making no move to comply with the demand, the suddenly fretful teenager immediately asked; “Why? What do you want it for?” It didn’t take a genius to hear the unspoken “And why would I ever give it to you?” in there as well.

   Sighing, Shego dropped her hand and rolled her eyes before responding in a slightly strained, but mostly even tone.

   “Since it’s so late now, I need to send you out to get some things for supper while Kimmie and I finish up here and then go clean off, and a GPS map-marker on your Kimmunicator works a whole lot better than directions to a place in a town you’ve never been to before—unless, of course, you want to wait the extra half-hour or so it’ll take for one of us to go instead.”

   Despite the fact that hearing Shego say “Kimmunicator” without a trace of sarcasm, and with such easy familiarity, disturbed Ron nearly as much as the actual request did, the blond only hesitated for a few more seconds before reluctantly digging out the device and handing it over to Shego. It certainly didn’t put him any more at ease when, with only a few slight pauses and a single misstep, she started navigating her way through the Kimmunicator’s interface as if she’d done so several times before.

   Not wanting to think about any of the implications that brought up, Ron attempted to distract himself by grumbling; “You know you could have led off with that…”

   “Should’a, could’a, didn’t…” Shego muttered back distractedly, refusing to rise to the bait. Fortunately for Ron, the pale woman also finished a few seconds after that, handing the Kimmunicator back to him while stating; “We’ll need a half-dozen…” Shego paused, glancing at Rufus for a second and then eyeing Ron before amending; “Make that ten, nine-inch garlic & herb sub rolls, a half a pound of mozzarella, and a jar of garlic paste, got that?”

   “Yeah, sure…” Ron responded absentmindedly, paying more attention to the map display on his Kimmunicator than to Shego. A moment later, he looked up and said; “Y’know, thanks to following Kim around all over the world, I can do a pretty long haul faster than most people if I have to, but even so, how the heck do you expect me to get this stuff back here anytime soon?”

   “Drive, dumbass!” Shego snapped an index finger up in the direction of her motorcycles as she fired the exasperated answer back at the teenager.

   “For reals?” A wide-eyed Ron turned to look at the quartet of bikes in surprise.

   “Correction,” Shego quickly amended as she noticed the direction of Ron’s excited stare, deliberately pointing out her sturdy little off-road Honda XR650L as she continued, “drive that, dumbass.”

   “Awww man!”

   “What? I’m supposed to let you take out one of those other monsters without knowing if you can handle them?” Shego shot back with complete sincerity. “Or maybe you’d like to get behind the wheel of a quarter-million or more’s worth of uninsured high performance sports car instead…”

   “Ugh… well, I guess if you put it that way.” Ron grumbled reluctantly.

   “And I do.” Shego’s jovial tone took most—but not all—of the derisive bite from her comment.

A moment later, Ron pulled another one of his trademark mercurial mood shifts as he looked over to where Rufus was helping Kim clean up, and, in a much more upbeat, enthusiastic tone, said; “C’mon, Rufus; let’s go for a ride!”

   “ ‘K.” Rufus chirped over his shoulder agreeably while putting an adjustable wrench away.

   As the naked mole rat made his way from workbench to tool cabinet to rusty car to his owner’s shoulder in a series of seemingly effortless, scampering leaps and bounds a few moments later, Shego walked over to the switch for the garage door to the bay her bikes were in and triggered it. Once the heavy faux-wooden portal was on its way up, Shego returned her attention to Ron.

   “You remember what you’re going to get?”

   Ron’s pace slowed, but didn’t stop, as he made his way over to the Honda while tentatively answering; “A jar of garlic paste… half a pound of mozzarella… and… ten? Sub rolls?”

   “What size?”

   “Nine-inch.”

   “Good.” Shego gave a satisfied nod before adding; “And I’m starting to get pretty hungry now, too, so don’t dawdle either.”

   “Dawdle?” Ron immediately shot back with a dry, questioning incredulity as he straddled the bike and reached out for the helmet hanging off the left handlebar.

   “Yeah, yeah, yeah; I hang out with Drakken way too much—sue me!” Shego grumbled brusquely before flicking her pale fingers at Ron in a rapid shooing gesture. “Now make with the fetchy fetchy if you want to eat tonight, Sidekick.”

   “I’m on it!” Ron acknowledge with a slight growl as he crammed the helmet onto his head, did up the chinstrap, and then kicked the bike to life. A few seconds later he was out of the garage and heading down the driveway at a quick, zippy pace, the high-pitched chainsaw rip of the dirt bike fading away with every inch of distance he put between himself and the villa.

   After a few more seconds spent staring at Ron as he pulled out onto the highway and then vanished behind the thick lilac bushes hedging the property, Shego turned to Kim and, somewhat redundantly, stated; “C’mon, let’s get going on our end.”

   Nodding, Kim took a last glace around the garage to make sure everything was in order and then followed the older woman outside, hitting the garage door switch as she did. Catching up to Shego a few moments later, Kim slowed her pace, falling in alongside the other woman and walking with her for nearly a dozen paces before, no longer able to resist, she all of a sudden stated; “I’m surprised you let him take the bike, even if it was just the Honda.”

   “Why?” Shego arched one sable eyebrow high, looking at the redhead with genuine confusion.

   “Well, y’know; the general destruction and all…”

   “Oh, that.” Shego laughed, an amused smile curling her full black lips. “Well, that’s simple, Kimmie; in the two-and-a-half years since I met the two of you, Klutzo the Destroyer there has never once crashed or totaled anything that I know of—and I know he drives that craptastic scooter of his all around Middleton too, so… yeah, not too worried.”

   “Hmmm…” Kim suddenly looked thoughtful—and perhaps just a bit puzzled as well. “Y’know, you’re right; Ron’s never been in an accident before—well, a driving accident anyway.” Kim quickly clarified in a bone-dry tone. Then she was right back to curious; “He’s caused plenty of stuff to crash, but he’s never crashed anything himself. I wonder why that is?”

   “I dunno; survival instincts?” Shego was laughing again, despite the fact that her comment was only half in jest.

“I guess.” Kim grinned as the duo entered the main hall of the villa.

   Roughly twenty-five minutes later, the pair had changed out of their work clothes, taken quick showers, and gotten dressed again in correspondingly casual attire before regrouping in the kitchen, which is exactly where Ron found them just a few minutes after that.

   “Hey, I hope this is what you wanted,” the blond stated as he breezed into the kitchen and set a fair-sized canvas bag filled with several smaller brown-paper-bagged packages on the counter, “because my Italian’s not exactly that great, and man was that old lady chatty!”

   “Y’ah; chatty.” Rufus confirmed from his perch on Ron’s shoulder, nodding as he did.

   Shego snorted sharply, if softly, and muttered; “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

   Moving over to the counter, Shego pulled the packages out of the bag one by one while checking their contents. Once she’d confirmed that everything was there in the right sizes and quantities, the pale woman nodded to Ron.

   “Yep, it’s all there, Sidekick.” Turning her attention to Kim, Shego smiled and continued; “All right then, let’s get started, Pumpkin.”

   Before the pale beauty could take more than two steps, a suddenly wide-eyed Ron loudly interrupted; “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa; waaaait a minute, hang on, time out, flag on the play!” As the two women swung around to face him at the excited outburst, Ron focused on Shego and, while using both hands to point to her, himself, and then Kim in turn, demanded; “Are you telling me that you are going to let my best friend since pre-K, the Kim Possible here, help you do something in a kitchen? Have I got that right?”

   “Hey!” Kim immediately squawked in indignant protest.

   Turning to his feisty redheaded friend, Ron made a skeptical, faintly exasperated face and flatly responded; “C’mon, KP, even you have to admit that when it comes to cooking, you can’t do anything—unless ‘anything’ includes causing culinary disasters. If I hadn’t coached you every step of the way in our sophomore year, you’d have failed Home Ec, and even then it was the lowest grade you’ve ever gotten in your entire life!”

   “Yeah, well…” Kim grumbled petulantly, crossing her arms beneath her breasts but not saying anything further—mainly because as much as she hated to admit it, there really wasn’t anything she could say to that.

   “Be that as it may,” Shego recaptured Ron’s attention with the firm interruption, “yes, Kimmie will be helping me make the food you’ll be scarfing down, Sidekick; she helps make supper every night she’s here.”

   “Seriously?” Ron was still skeptical.

   “Yes, seriously! What are you, Motor Ed’s long lost brother?” Shego snapped before taking a breath and continuing in a notably calmer tone. “Kimmie’s been coming along just fine over the last few weeks, thank you very much—slow, but fine. She’s already a nice little prep-chef, and by the end of summer, I aim to have her baking brownies all on her own.”

   “Yeah!” Kim chimed in emphatically, “I learned how to crack an egg without getting any shell in it, I don’t burn toast anymore, I can make a pretty good hamburger now, and I’ve almost got oatmeal down too!”

   Kim’s cheeks colored slightly as she heard her spirited declaration out loud, but despite the relative insignificance of her culinary accomplishments, she was still inordinately proud of them—for her, they really were noteworthy gains.

   “Oatmeal? Who has oatmeal for supper?” Ron mumbled to himself before giving his head a little shake and continuing in a louder, slightly more apologetic tone; “All right, all right, my bad… but still, this, I have got to see for myself.” After a slight pause, his expression soured as he grumbled; “Except I can’t right now, because I have to go clean up first…” Looking over his shoulder as he immediately began making his exit, Ron all but pleaded; “Just don’t do anything interesting until I get back, ok?”

   “We’ll see, Sidekick!” Shego shouted out into the hall after the retreating teenager, despite having absolutely no intention of following through on that assurance, such as it was—this weekend was seriously starting to take on overtones of what living with her brothers had been like.

   With an exasperated shake of her head, Shego turned to Kim a moment later, her tone gruff as she stated; “Like I said, let’s get this show on the road already…”

   Nodding, Kim set to work alongside the older woman without answering—given the mood she was in right now, her sentiment was running very close to Shego’s…

   Fortunately for Ron, by the time he returned, the redhead had gotten over her irritation and was back to normal, more or less—Shego, on the other hand, had put him out of her head almost the moment he’d left. Unfortunately, in the time he’d been gone, Ron had also missed the preliminary planning of the meal, so he was forced to play catch-up as he entered the kitchen only to find Shego kneading some kind of dough in a big metal bowl, while Kim stood further down the counter, dusting jumbo scallops with seasoning before carefully wrapping them in two strips of bacon each, top and bottom and sides, then spearing everything in place with a sharp toothpick—not that it was much of a challenge, though; it took all of thirty seconds for the culinarily gifted teenager to identify Shego’s T-biscuit dough, and he recognized Kim’s colloquially-termed pigs-in-a-blanket pretty much on sight. That didn’t exactly bring him up to speed, however, as the two things didn’t seem to add up with one another, let alone what he’d brought back from the market.

   “So ahhh… what exactly are we having, anyway?” Being no fool—at least in this particular case—Ron tried to be as unobtrusive and congenial as possible with the seemingly casual question.

   With a somewhat notable act of will, Shego stopped herself from snapping; We’re having pigs-in-a-blanket, oven subs, and strawberry shortcake; you’re having whatever the hell we let you have, Sidekick! and simply answered the teenager’s question instead.

   “All right, that’s cool.” Ron replied, while on his shoulder, Rufus nodded his approval whilst happily humming; “Mmmm…”

   Fading into the background, Ron did his best to stay out of Kim and Shego’s way as he quietly watched them prepare supper, all while finding himself once again mesmerized by what was going on in front of him, albeit for markedly different reasons than when they were out in the garage earlier. The most obvious thing was that Kim actually seemed to have some degree of confidence about working with food now. She wasn’t exactly comfortable with what she was doing, but her usual air of uptight, excessive concentration and atypical uncertainty while trying to cook was conspicuously absent as well. Then there was the fact that unlike working on the car, however much Kim might deny it, deep down inside, she actually wanted to overcome her cooking deficiencies, so, without any real apathy or aversion of her own to surmount, she was able to follow Shego’s instruction and do the work without any reluctance or stubborn resistance whatsoever, which in turn made for a much smoother, more agreeable atmosphere between the two of them—and weirder; definitely weirder in Ron’s opinion.

   Kim and Shego working together with at least one of them snipping, griping, and grumbling at the other might have been be one thing, but it was entirely something else to see his best friend following Shego’s lead while apparently playing a happy second fiddle to her—or to anyone for that matter… Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Kim did tend to take on a somewhat more… compliant, manner when she was interacting with most of her teachers, her parents and adult relatives, and the parents of her friends, but with nearly everyone else, she was almost always pushing for the lead or, at the very least, equal footing with them—except for Josh Mankey, of course, but it wasn’t like he counted for anything… To see Kim taking that kind of cheerfully accommodating role with Shego, however… well, it simply boggled the blond teenager’s not-exactly-the-most-stable-to-begin-with mind.

   Thus, it was with a truly surreal sentiment that Ron stood watching the two women make supper, Shego clearly in charge, Kim clearly ok with it, and both going about their tasks with an easy, familiar, almost wordless cooperation that, given the sheer strangeness of it all, came very close to actually scaring the teenager on some subliminal level. Fortunately, that nagging feeling never quite blossomed into full-fledged alarm for Ron, most likely due to the aforementioned otherworldly air about the whole scene—that, or following the much more mundane particulars of it kept him distracted. After all, how often did he get to see Kim preparing and neatly laying out bacon-wrapped scallops on a grill-pan before sliding it into a red-hot oven? Or Shego rolling out a slab of floury dough and then deftly cutting T-biscuits from it one after another, to fill up a well-buttered tin pan before setting it onto a lower rack in that selfsame stove? Or both of them assembly-lining together nearly a dozen submarine sandwiches, so that batches of them would be ready to go into the oven one after the other? It was almost anticlimactic when Kim started hulling and bisecting strawberries even as Shego whisked up a big bowl of whipped cream, all while the first tray of subs grilled beneath the oven’s glowing broiler element.

   Fascinating… It was all… just… so… fascinating—in an utterly bizarre, through-the-looking-glass sort of way, of course. About the only thing that didn’t surprise Ron was seeing Shego use her powers as the world’s greatest pair of oven mitts; that, somehow, just seemed to fit. He was even so engrossed by the whole show that when Shego spoke to him right near the end of it, it actually took a few seconds and a sharp little shake of his head before he finally realized she was addressing him.

   “Hmh-huh-what? What was that?” Ron asked, his tone still somewhat distracted.

   “I said ‘If all you’re going to do is stand around staring, how about you make yourself useful and go set the table instead?’ ” Shego shot back impatiently. “We’re almost done here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

   “Oh… ah… yeah, sure! No problem; I’m on it!” Ron immediately responded once he caught up, a measure of his usual easygoing enthusiasm in his voice now.

   Turning around, the blond took all of one step before suddenly pausing, head darting back and forth erratically as he snapped his gaze about the kitchen like some sort of enormous lizard or bird. A moment later, he tentatively queried; “Wherrrre exactly would I find the tableware again?”

   After a slight pause of her own over the teenager using the word “tableware,” Shego blinked and then responded; “Go right on through and use the stuff in the near left-hand corner; you can’t miss it.”

   “Got it.” Ron affirmed with casual confidence now that he knew what was what.

   The moment he stepped into the dining room, the teenager mentally berated himself for not recalling the prominent, dish-laden cabinets that were tucked into each corner of the homey looking area. That silent self-derision didn’t last very long, however; after all, when he was in the room earlier in the day, there had been far more important things on his mind than noticing the décor.

   After moving over to the cabinet Shego had directed him towards, Ron scanned its contents briefly and then began setting the table with a practiced ease—between doing it for his mother at home, Kim’s parents at her house, and learning the various place-setting styles at cooking school, he had so much experience he could probably perform the task in his sleep, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Thus, it only took the teenager a few minutes to get the table ready, which worked out fairy well, given Kim and Shego entered with trays of still sizzling oven subs and golden-brown bacon wrapped scallops shortly thereafter.

   “Not too bad…” Shego commented idly as she glanced over the table while setting her tray down in the center of it, right next to Kim’s. Sitting down at the head of the table while Kim took her place across from her, Shego looked to the left as Ron sat down as well, and pointed to the food while sternly informing him; “Three each, plus one for him.”

   “Woo-hoo!” Rufus cheered happily as Shego indicated him at the end of her statement, and quickly hopped down to the tabletop next to Ron’s place-setting.

   “What about the scallops?” Ron inquired warily.

   Looking over to Kim, Shego smirked faintly as she replied; “Free-for-all?” A second later, the pale beauty was looking at Ron and Rufus again as she immediately clarified; “Within reason!”

   “Got it.” Ron absentmindedly replied while reaching for an oven sub, but next to him, Rufus’ whiskers actually drooped while the naked mole rat moped; “Awww…”

   Rufus’ sulking over the lost opportunity to gorge was short-lived, however—after all, he was getting a heavily cheese-laden sandwich almost as big as he was, along with a few pigs-in-a-blanket that were nearly the size of his head to boot. All in all, he could hardly complain.

   A few minutes after everyone dug in, Ron couldn’t help stating; “Y’know, this is actually pretty good.”

   Looking up in the ensuing silence that dropped to either side of him, Ron found both his best friend and… whatever the hell Shego was now, staring at him with notable displeasure.

   “Whhaaat?” Ron’s defensive tone turned the drawn-out word into a complaint; “A guy can’t give praise when it’s due? Seriously, this is pretty good—and that’s coming from a guy who’s not only in the top one percentile of his class at Le Cordon Bleu, but also in the top one percentile of all four summer classes they’re running this year.”

   Shego arched one sable eyebrow high, smacked her lips once while giving them a quick lick, and inclined her head in the blond teenager’s direction as she dubiously inquired; “You’re in the Cordon Bleu?”

   Before Rufus could even begin to chastise him, and in a somewhat put-upon voice, Ron clarified; “Technically it’s a junior satellite program associated with the Cordon Bleu, but since half my teachers are on the list of regular instructors at the original Paris school, I’m pretty sure ‘close enough’ covers it.”

   From the other end of the table, right on the heels of Ron’s clarification, and with a somewhat noticeable air of exasperated protest, Kim added; “I told you Ron was in Paris this summer to go to cooking school, Shego.”

   Shego glanced at Kim for a moment, her quick, offhand response matter-of-fact as she said; “Exactly; ‘cooking schools’ are a dime-a-dozen in Paris—but Le Cordon Bleu? That’s something else altogether, Kimmie…” Returning her attention to Ron, Shego considered him for the briefest of instants before, with the slightest hint of surprise, she found herself concluding; “Well, color me impressed, Sidekick.”

   For a second or two, the blond was even more amazed than Shego was, until the pale woman added; “That is, of course, assuming you’re not just throwing around a big load of bull there.”

   Ahhh, there we go; that’s the Shego we all know and love… Ron thought to himself in a flat, sardonic tone.

   Before the blond could formulate an… appropriate, response to the pale woman’s accusatory insinuation, Shego’s dark green eyes flashed in an eerily familiar fashion as she hit him with a sharp, demanding question.

   “What’s the best egg-to-cream ratio if you don’t want a mushy quiche?”

   “Ah-ha; trick question!” Ron immediately shot back without a trace of hesitation, his left hand snapping up to point an accusatory finger in the general direction of the ceiling. “You can’t determine the optimal ratio without knowing the type or types of cheese being used, along with the general absorbency or moisture release of any other fill ingredients!”

   Shego blinked twice, and then gave her head a sharp little shake before firing another question at the uncharacteristically self-assured teenager.

   “All right then, generally, how often should a five-pound shank roast of two-year Kobe beef be basted, when cooking in a standard convection oven at a high-medium temperature.”

Ron made a face as he reluctantly replied; “Welllll, as much as I hate to generalize, given how much of a difference some seasonings and marinades can make, I’d have to say every nine or ten minutes, depending on the specific cut you’re working with.”

   “What, really?” Shego’s brow furrowed slightly as one sable eyebrow rose with her genuinely curious, questioning surprise over the teenager’s response.

   “Oh yeah,” Ron replied enthusiastically, immediately clueing in on the source of the older woman’s surprise, “some spices, herbs, and marinades can just wring the juice out of a given cut of meat—especially something as temperamental as Kobe beef.”

   At the other end of the table, Kim went back to eating her supper while the lively conversation between her best friend and girlfriend continued unabated, completely alienated now as pretty much everything coming out of their mouths went so far over her head they might as well have been speaking in another language—not that she cared about the unintentional exclusion one bit. On the contrary, she was pleased as punch to just sit there, quietly enjoying her food, while Ron and Shego talked cooking circles around her—anything that brought the two of them together, instead of looking at each other like a pair of strange cats tossed into the same cage, was great in her book, even if it did leave her as the redundant third wheel on their bicycle built for two, so to speak. Besides, she could still learn a thing or two just by listening carefully; which she did, all while trying her very best not to smile the amused, contented little smile she just knew would send the conversation grinding to an abrupt, premature halt if Ron or Shego ever caught sight of it.

   Eventually, everyone finished eating, and, after the inevitable post-dinner cleanup and subsequent loss of culinary ambiance, the suddenly self-conscious conversation between Ron and Shego rapidly petered out as the group wandered into the living room. The ensuing, increasingly awkward silence dragged on until Ron finally broke it with a far more characteristically cautious question.

   “So ahhh… what now?”

   “Movie night?” it was more hesitant question than statement as Kim glanced over to Shego.

   “Yeah, sure; why not?” the older woman agreed in an easygoing tone, casually heading around the couch to take a seat in the center of the projecting half of the “L” shaped sofa, directly across from the huge TV on the far side of the room.

   “Oh great…” Ron grumbled quietly, halfheartedly meandering along the same route while Shego settled into her chosen spot.

   “What’s your problem?” Shego immediately grumbled back, not having missed the low-voiced complaint, though her tone was more casual than caustic.

   “I know the score from hanging out with Kim and the squad;” Ron complained, “two girls to one me means we’re going to spend the night watching some nurse fall for a guy with deadly jungle fever, and how they make the most of every minute of the six months he’s got left, or how the new girl at school, or collage, or whatever, helps the brooding, angry outsider guy overcome his problems through her understanding and the power of ballet, or something like that…”

   Both Kim and Shego snorted in unison, their lips twisting into a pair of wry, amused grins. Then Kim shook her head dismissively and slipped past Ron, who was still standing there staring at Shego in mostly mock indignation. Taking a seat next to the smiling, softly chuckling woman, Kim playfully responded; “Oh, I think you may have a little bit more support here than you thought, Ron…”

   Shego smiled an equally mischievous, if somewhat more knowing, smile as she idly waved a hand in Ron’s direction and indulgently drawled; “No, no; please, be my guest—pick whatever you like.”

   “All right then, I will.” Ron stated with scrappy determination—and just a hint of justifiably miffed confusion, given that he was obviously on the outside of something shared between the two women, and they didn’t seem the least bit interested in letting him in on it.

   Making his way over to the sprawling entertainment center on the far wall, Ron immediately started looking through Shego’s huge collection of DVDs with nearly zero expectation of actually finding an alternative to “chick flicks,” despite the insinuations of the duo sitting behind him. That hope continued to dwindle as he swiftly scanned and dismissed the various romance, drama, and comedy titles on the upper shelves, but much to his great surprise, within moments of focusing on the lower shelves, Ron not only realized that he was completely wrong, but also what the inside joke was between his friend and Shego, whom he honestly would have never imagined in a million years would have been interested in watching movies like these, let alone owning them—though in this case, he was never happier to have been proven wrong, either.

   “Thai Jungle Fighter… SS Destroyer II: the Resurrection… Zen Fists of Iron… New York Ninja… Lock and Load… Max Devastation… Bloodring IV: Mutant Massacre… Wow! Striking Cobra, Hidden Spider! I thought this was discontinued years ago, after only a single production run!”

   “It was,” Shego responded dryly. “I had to hunt it down on eBay; took me nearly six months and I ended up paying way too much for it.”

   “No such thing as ‘way too much’ for a masterpiece like this.” Ron grinned as he continued making his way through the titles arrayed before him, clearly in B-movie heaven. “Lessee… Diamond Destroyer one, two, and three… Livewire… Ooh-ooh-ooh! The entire Cynthia Rothrock early classics collection! Great!”

   Happily indexing a few dozen more choice possibilities, the teenager suddenly stopped as his eyes lit upon a title that immediately drew his full, undivided attention.

   “Oh, hey! Bricks of Fury III! Awesome! I didn’t think this was out yet!”

   “And we have a winner…” Shego drawled in a lazy, not-so-mock-enthusiastic tone, while next to her, Kim groaned softly and added a far flatter; “Yay.”

   “You got it!” Ron responded, opening the case and then pausing for the few seconds it took to figure out how to pop the tray on Shego’s fancy DVD player before slipping the shiny, brand-new disc inside. Then he closed the player up and headed back for the couch while commenting; “Y’know I never did get to see this in the theater, thanks to Team Impossible.”

   “What the hell does Team Impossible have to do with you missing this in the theaters, Sidekick?” Shego demanded in complete confusion.

   “Oh, we had a little trouble with them back when it was out.” Ron answered nonchalantly. “They wanted KP to quit the hero-for-not-hire business because it was cutting into their bottom line. Long story short, by the time it was over, Bricks of Fury had left the building.”

   For a brief instant, Ron almost sat down next to Shego before he suddenly realized what he was doing, and kept on going to sit down on the far side of Kim instead, right in the corner of the two-section couch, where he could really sprawl out and relax—well, relax as much as he could while being in the same room with Shego, anyway. As he plopped down onto his chosen seat, the blond turned his attention to his redheaded friend as he continued talking.

   “Y’know I still say we should—”

   “No theme songs, Ron.” Kim retorted sternly, cutting him off before could finish.

   “I’m just sayin’…”

The blond raised his hands innocently as he casually got in the last word before the movie started, while on the other side of Kim, Shego again wisely decided that she didn’t really need to know anything more about the odd exchange between the two friends—though this time, she somewhat doubted that she could just look it up on the Internet later. A few hours after that, thanks to a combined bathroom break for Kim and popcorn run for Shego, the end credits were slowly climbing up the screen as the show came to an end.

   “Well, I don’t know about thirty percent more bricks, but that was freaking awesome!” Ron cheered over the final score coming out of the sound system.

   “I guess…” Kim grumbled from her place curled up alongside Shego, while right on top of that, the older woman replied; “Yeah, it was pretty good; except for that idiotic cement mixer scene.”

   “Hey, that scene wasn’t—” Ron snapped defensively, raising an accusatory index finger. Then he cut off suddenly. A second later, his hand fell back to his lap while he continued in a flat, accepting tone; “Yeah, ok; I got nothin’. That part was pretty dumb.” Ever mercurial, the blond was back to upbeat as he finished; “But hey, aside from that one thing, it was still pretty great, right?”

   “Agreed.” Shego answered amiably as she turned off the TV and stereo, while at her side, a far less enthusiastic Kim muttered; “If you say so…”

   Extricating herself from Kim after setting the remote down on the coffee table, Shego stood up and stretched for the high ceiling above while venting a short, yawning sigh. Then she glanced over to Ron as he and Kim started getting up as well.

   “You planning on seeing the musical when it comes out next week?”

   “Heck yeahs; it’s gonna be bricktastic!” Ron enthusiastically quoted the upcoming movie’s tag line.

   “I don’t know…” Shego’s response was far more leery, “with some of the things I’ve been hearing about it, I’m not holding my breath.”

   “Hey, they’ve got Lance Lancington for the lead; how could you go wrong?” Ron demanded incredulously.

   “Well, I’ll give you that; the man can sing—who knew?” Shego gave her head a quick little shake and continued; “Anyway, it’s been a long day, so I’m off to bed.”

   “I think I’m going to stay up for a while longer,” Kim stated, “Ron and I still have some catching up to do, after all.”

   Shego gave an amused smile and nodded sagely.

   “Yeah, I kinda figured.” Leaning in, the pale beauty gave the redhead a little kiss and softly purred; “G’nite, Kimmie.”

   “G’nite, Shego.” Kim responded warmly as the older woman straightened up, turned, and started heading for the main hall with a familiar, sexy sway in her walk.

   As she went, Shego tossed off a casual; “Have fun, Kiddos.” over her shoulder, while at the same time, behind Kim, Ron blinked repeatedly as the intimate little exchange violently slapped him back to the reality of the freakishly weird situation in which he was presently embroiled, all while he silently berated himself for somehow having let his guard down again—the fact that Rufus was happily waving and wishing Shego good night as well from his shoulder did not help the situation either…
- 78
- 79
- 80
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Revelations of Destiny