So. What is with all the Disney Channel stuff? I am way too old for this. Well, it's because when I baby-sit my young cousins Disney Channel is all they watch. Literally. I haven't gotten the opportunity to watch a lot of grown-up television in the past two weeks, so I'm taking lemons and making it into lemonade. Thus, a very very adult twist to Kim Possible. And I do mean very adult, the M rating is very appropriate (language and sexual content) so be very aware of that before proceeding. That being said: I'm lonely and bored! Here's my latest project. Enjoy.

PS: The title is Latin. It literally translates as "in becoming".

Disclaimer: I don't own. I just borrow to make myself less bored.

--

In Fieri by WaterGhost

It's a cold night. Cold and crisp, I can just see my breath freezing in the dark air. There are no clouds, a few stars. I'm not wearing nearly enough clothing for such weather, a tank top and pajama pants, but I don't really care too much. My window shouldn't be open on such a night, and I can mentally imagine at least four people chastising me for keeping it open. But I don't really too much about that, either.

It's late. I can't sleep. It seems to be a chronic issue these days, for various reasons that I can't really pinpoint. Stress, perhaps? Or something else? Insomnia isn't the worst issue I've dealt with, but at the moment it seems the most annoying. And I'm alone. Mom is working a night shift; the twins are spending the night at a friend's house, Dad's out of town at some conference. I spent the evening watching a movie at Monique's house. Monique, Ron and I had become quite the social trio as of late, and that was all for the best considering the dynamic between Ron and I currently. A horror slasher film, not really my favorite genre but Monique and Ron seemed to enjoy it. And it is good to be able to do some normal teenager activities every once in a while.

This month has been slow in terms of missions, a rather odd occurrence for Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable, but in all honesty a welcome one. The sweet relationship that Ron and I had enjoyed had ended last month on awkward terms. I had actually said to the poor boy "Ron, I love you, but I'm not in love with you anymore." It was a horrible, hurtful thing to say, and I was truly sorry for saying it. I did love Ron, care about Ron, in the deepest possible way a friend could care about a friend. And it wasn't his fault, it was mine. I wanted to say all these things, explain to him all these things. But it was too hard, just then. Someday I'll be able to explain to him the parts of me that he never got to see, parts that I do not yet fully understand myself. That even Kim Possible is not all that she appears.

Someday. But not yet.

I'm gripped with a kind of restlessness, an uneasiness so to speak. Not so much in a predatory, soldier-on-guard, animal on the prowl kind of way, but in a manner where I'm waiting for some sort of absolution, or at least resolution, that has no guarantee of ever coming.

So I can't sleep. Despite the fact that I have the whole empty house to myself tonight, I've locked myself in my bedroom. I could be lounging in the family room watching a movie on the big screen plasma TV, huddled under a warm blanket eating popcorn and feeling sorry for myself in luxury, but I'm not. I'm sitting on my bed, facing the door, reading. It's Hamlet, for school. Might as well get something done if I'm not sleeping.

O, That this too too solid flesh would melt,

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.

The wind blows through the window at my back, creating a low, almost tired moan that carries with it sounds of the outside world: the long, lonely whistle of a far off train engine, the rustling of tree leaves, the occasional car driving down the main road at the bottom of the hill. It brings with it the smell of far off moisture; it's most likely going to rain tonight. I listen to each and every sound with well trained ears, alert and open. I'm reminded of a spy I once met while on my missions who claimed he slept with his eyes open for seven years of his life. Would I become like him? Sleeping with my eyes open and jumping at my own shadow?

Perhaps. At least I'd get a little schoolwork done then. All these missions means that I often fall behind in my schoolwork, and with only a few more months until graduation the load that has piled up desperately needs to be dealt with. I chuckle to myself wryly.

All of a sudden, there is a disturbance in the moan of the wind, almost inaudible footsteps on my windowsill. My mind and ears stand at attention, but I force my body to relax. The footsteps move quickly from the windowsill to the carpet, where they are muffled even more, but it doesn't matter now. I know someone's here, and moreover, I know who it is.

She must know that I sense her presence, but doesn't acknowledge it verbally, or by approaching me any further than she has already come. Even after all this time, she still tries to sneak up on me, that kind of cat and mouse play that we seem to excel at.

"Close the window," I say, not turning around, "before the wind picks up again."

After a moment, she obeys, and I hear the glass pane slide down into place, click into the snap holds at the bottom of the frame. Finally, I turn around.

"You're late," I comment dryly, "I could have been sleeping."

She stands, legs akimbo and arms crossed, looking at me with an indecipherable gaze. "You're still awake, though. I don't see what the big deal is."

I shrug, stand, with my book still in hand. She looks down at it with quick eyes and speaks with an even quicker tongue.

"Hamlet, huh?"

"Yes," I say, tossing the book onto my desk. It lands with a loud, satisfying thud. "It's for school."

She grins like a Cheshire cat, nods. "It's been awhile since I've read that one, but if I remember correctly, murder, revenge, tragedy, death. My kind of literature. It's good to see that you're not neglecting your studies, Possible. It would be quite a shame if a clever mind like yours went to waste. Though I see your sense of style hasn't improved at all, judging by your choice of sleeping attire for tonight. You must try and improve on that one."

She talks too much, and I'm feeling direct tonight. "You didn't just come here to criticize my wardrobe, did you?"

Her eyes lose some of their sarcastic jest. "No, I didn't. And you didn't say even hello to me."

There are no hesitations in her next movement and no motions of evasion on my part. Her quick reflexes show themselves, and she lunges forward, pulling my body towards her muscular lean one, catching my mouth in a hungry, feral, bruising kiss that ignites me like a fire. Her lips are soft, they attack mine with a passionate ferocity that I've only felt from her. My blood pounds furiously, scorching my veins and flowing through my body unchecked. We pull apart after a moment, and I lock my eyes with her fiery green ones.

"Hello, Shego."

"It's been too long, Kimmie." Her voice holds none of the contempt it usually does.

She's not wearing her normal skin tight black and green one piece tonight, which I find a little refreshing. Instead, she dons an all black outfit of loose black pants and a tight black tee shirt. Her muscled pale green arms seem to glow in the moonlight. I make no attempt to hide that my eyes are roaming her toned body. Let her see the hunger in my eyes. All the better.

I remember when it started.

Ron and I were on a mission to foil one of Drakken's nefarious (and totally ridiculous) plots yet again, a bank robbery that included the use of a sophisticated and unnecessarily large laser stolen from one of the world's elite inventors. Ron and I had caught up with the duo just before they could implement the laser's power.

And there she was. Shego. My archenemy, the anti-Kim, if there was one.

She engaged first, as usual, her green energy field in full power, fists clenched and glowing with the green energy she possessed. There was always a certain intensity when we fought, a forcefulness that really only emerged when we fought with each other. She wanted, with everything in her, to stomp me into the ground, to beat me, humiliate me, flatten me, and the feeling was more than mutual. At the same time, there was a fierce kind of beauty to our combat, near equals locked in everlasting combat, no one ever truly triumphing over the other, each living to fight another day. We gave each other many memorable bruises and visible scars as an eternal reminder of our rivalry.

Ron even admitted this, and on one occasion said it best. "When you and Shego are fighting, it's like I'm watching this really complicated dance that only you guys know the steps to. It's really hard to keep up with."

And that one mission, something changed. Perhaps it was when Shego landed on top of me, straddling my waist, struggling to pin my arms and force me into submission. Maybe it was then, with Shego's long raven colored hair hanging down onto my chest, her face just inches from mine, that a little something was ignited within me. And when I looked up into the green eyes of my adversary, I saw that Shego's had felt the same little shudder. At first, I didn't understand it, didn't want to try. It confused me, made me less confident and therefore, I assumed, weaker. Couldn't let her see my weakness.

But time after time, fight after fight, every time I engaged in combat with the taller black-haired woman it started again, this energy besides rage crept back into my chest, spread throughout my body. As much as I tried to hide it, it became tougher and tougher to do so. But, when I looked carefully, whenever our bodies came in contact, I saw that same unnamed hunger in Shego's eyes.

For a long time, we ignored it. Things continued as normal, Shego talking down to me, sending verbal barbs as a kind of foreplay to the violence that would soon commence. The nicknames, Kimmie, Princess, Pumpkin, didn't really bother me so much anymore. What really bothered me was that I was sexually attracted to my archrival. I had never been sexually attracted to a woman before, and it might have been anyone, but fate has a cruel sense of irony. She, for her part, appeared to feel the same way, and for awhile our combat was a push pull. We couldn't tell one minute if we were ignited with hatred or with passion. And over time, as villains changed, alliances changed, and she changed, I saw something that I could actually like in Shego, a glimmer of something good.

And one night, she showed up at my window.

At first I had expected a full confrontation; I leapt out of bed and into a fighting stance as quick as my limbs would move my body. But she wouldn't attack, wouldn't move at all. Just stood there, arms dangling by her sides, fists clenched. She looked worn, tired, her one piece body suit torn and singed, leaving whole strips of skin exposed to the naked eye.

"Give it a rest, Kim. I'm not here for that." Her voice was serious.

I remember that. She had called me Kim. Not Princess or Pumpkin. Kim.

She had stepped close to me, slowly, her emerald eyes locked on mine, both of us not quite sure what to make of the situation we were in. But I saw a tangible need in those eyes, and it was awakened in me. There had been no more words that night, only grunts and moans as we engaged in deep, passionate sex that turned my world upside down. I never knew what is was that triggered that night, the events that had made her show up in that exhausted, disheveled state in my room, but after the first time it didn't really matter.

So began an unspoken arrangement between us. Most of the time we were Kim and Shego, mortal enemies and eternal nemeses. I foiled more than one plan, fought against her several times. But there was a new intensity to our combat, we let the sexual tension flow between us as we sparred, fed off it willingly. There was more than one time that Shego let me go when she could have seriously injured or captured me, and a few times on my part when I arrived just a little too late to catch her.

And then some nights she would show up at my window. We rarely talk, I try not to engage in conversation. Shego talks and taunts enough when we're fighting. She doesn't seem to mind, as we are usually otherwise engaged.

I reach down and run my hand up her thigh, resting it on her hip. She tries to control her reaction to my touch, but a sharp intake of breath gives her away. I smile and place my other hand on her other hip, pull her towards my body until we're pressed together. She's quite a bit taller than me, but I'll soon take that advantage away. She bends down quickly, buries her face against my neck and sets to work with lips, teeth, and tongue. She nips at my neck and I let out a low hiss. I feel her smile against my neck.

I pull her head up again, crash my lips against hers, pushing my tongue into the warm, wet crevasse that is Shego's mouth. She opens it willingly, pushing her tongue forward to battle with mine for supremacy. She wraps her arms around the upper part of my body, and I leave my hands gripping her hips. Finally, a need for oxygen forces me to pull my mouth from hers. I meet her eyes with my own. I see the same passion in hers that I know are in mine. Shego reaches one hand up and strokes the side of my face.

She opens her mouth, her voice is husky.

"Off with the shirt, Possible."

I obey, discarding the shirt quickly, leaving me naked from the waist up. She half smiles, slowly peels the tight black tee shirt off her hardened pale green upper body in an achingly slow motion. My hands fly to the waist of her pants, which she willingly lets me unbutton and discard until she is only standing in front of me with her underwear and bra on.

Shego lunges forward, pinning me back onto my bed. We sink into the comforter with our combined weight, and Shego settles her body on top of mine, pressing our mouths together for another searing French kiss.

God, this feels good. Her weight pressing down on my body, writhing above me erotically. Suddenly, she pulls her lips away from mine and reaches for the nightstand by my bed. We started using a handkerchief to silence any loud moans or screams, to prevent any unwelcome visitors. My brothers slept like the dead, but Mom and Dad weren't as cooperative. I reach out my own hand to stop hers.

"The house is empty. We don't need it."

I can't really read her expression, but I do recognize that passion in her eyes as she nods and reengages me in another searing kiss.

My center is already throbbing for attention, but Shego is taking her time tonight, taking one hand to my naked breast and cupping it. Disentangling herself from our kiss, she moves her lips down to the other breast at an achingly slow pace, then places soft green lips on the flesh.

I bite my lip hard but can't help but moan loudly as Shego sucks and nibbles at the tender flesh of my breasts, moving from one to the other. She has always paid a lot of attention to them, even though hers are sizably larger than mine. Her mouth suddenly moves back up as her hands continue to caress my breasts, lightly biting at my collarbones.

After more touches, Shego rids me of my pajama pants so that I'm stark naked in front of her. The cool air kisses my flushed bare skin, and I lay panting, motionless, as Shego hovers above me, raking her eyes over my naked body. In the beginning I was self-conscious, but I soon learned that there was no need to be. Her eyes are dark with desire, her breathing even and labored, and no words are spoken as she parts my legs and positions herself between them. I gasp with pleasure as her hands and lips caress the tender skin of my inner thighs, and she moves even closer. Every fiber of my being is begging for her touch

I bury my hands in her thick black hair, grabbing great handfuls and hold on for all I'm worth. She's teased me mercilessly, and it's time to stop.

"Shego," I'm panting, but my voice is firm and demanding. "Now."

A satisfied smile covers her features. "As you wish."

Her fingers begin to move inside me and I dig my fingernails in her back, bucking my hips to the rhythm of her hand. It won't be long now; the waves of pleasure are rising in me like a crescendo.

With a final thrust, I'm pushed over the edge, body arching into the touch, clutching onto Shego and a long scream of pleasure tears from my throat.

I collapse back onto the bed and bask in the afterglow of my release. I feel more relieved than anything, like finally finishing a race that has taken nearly all my willpower to complete. Shego lays herself down stomach first next to me, looking rather pleased with herself. She knows the effect she has on me, but I also know the effect I have on her.

After a few more moments of recovery, I reach over and unhook Shego's bra, releasing her breasts, and order her to take her underwear off. It's only times like these when she will obey me, and it's extremely satisfying.

Now, it's her turn.

I climb on top of her, position myself between her long, muscled, smooth green skinned legs and lean forward to catch her mouth in a feather-light kiss, our lips just barely touching. She leans into me to deepen it, but I pull away with a Cheshire cat grin of my own. I can tease, too.

She gasps as my hands roam all over her battle-hardened body, and the knowledge that I have such an effect creates a thrill in me like I've never known. I spend minutes kissing and caressing my way down her tall, curvy frame, tracing scars and leaving little marks on her skin. She doesn't speak, but gasps of pleasure from her tell me that my ministrations are creating the desired effect. I torment her for as long as I think she can stand it, and only then do I prepare to give her the release she craves from me.

I kiss both of her hip bones and then right above her center before quickly pulling away, and her hips thrust upward, look for relief.

"Goddam it, Kimmie."

I look into her eyes, dark with desire, looking for her to verbalize it. I want to hear it.

"Fuck me, now."

And I'm happy to oblige. When I slide my fingers into her warm wetness her fingernails dig into the skin of my back. Soon, our bodies create a rhythm that steadily begins to increase. She's panting, and I'm panting.

She gasps as I drive my fingers home and I feel her whole body tighten. "Fu- fuck!"

As she comes, that mysterious green energy that gives Shego her impressive combative powers envelope us like a lightning storm, dancing across my skin and crackling lightly in the air. It scared me at first, but it never hurts, just creates a general buzzing feeling, and I've grown used to it.

We collapse onto my bed again, try to gain control of our labored breathing. I'm very thankful that I thought of the handkerchief idea ahead of time, because we definitely would have made enough noise to attract someone's attention.

A few minutes pass, and our heads move to face each other, eyes locking once more.

"Again?" I ask. I feel the fire in my chest begin to ignite again.

She just nods.

--

Hours later, we lay naked side by side, basking in the afterglow. We are almost insatiable tonight, but exhaustion finally takes its toll on us. In the beginning, times like this meant that I would be wracked by guilt and confusion, frozen by my own limitations. I would never know what to say, usually lie silently until Shego slid out of bed.

She never stayed. Not even once. I never asked her to, either. It's become kind of an unspoken rule, fuck and then leave, sometimes not even speaking one word. It seemed to be less problematic that way. Neither of us really had a clue what all of this meant.

When I feel her shift, I figure that this night will be like every other. There she goes, to dress silently and hop out the window. Leaving to fight another day and fuck another night.

But I'm surprised when I feel her weight settle back in next to me in the bed, she's turned to face me.

"Wow, Possible, I had no idea that you were such a screamer."

I blush. "I told you we needed the handkerchief."

Her eyes hold that mischievous look that I'm used to, but somehow that look is a little bit softer, without the hard edge that I'm used to seeing when we're engaged in combat. It disarms me, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

"Always thinking about all the details, even in bed."

I nod. "Speaking of which, we can't do this here anymore. I think my Mom is beginning to suspect something." Which was absolutely true. She had mentioned to me more than once that she sometimes heard footsteps outside on very dark nights. She assumed that it was just Ron stopping by for midnight kisses, but really she had no idea, and I didn't plan on letting her in on the truth.

She wrinkles her nose and sniffs. "If you want this to stop, Princess, all you have to do is say so. But you haven't turned me away yet, I see."

I prop myself up on my elbows to readjust my position so that my eyes lock with her smoldering green ones. "Don't be a bitch, Shego. Neither of us can risk getting caught, and you know that."

She smiles again, happy to get such a response from me. "Language, Princess. And you just don't want the buffoon to find out."

"Leave Ron out of this," I snap, a little too harshly. "This isn't his fault."

Her grin converts quickly in a defensive snarl. "You know you are way too sensitive about him, Pumpkin. I'm not going to stick around if you are going to go on another one of your rants about how he's such a good guy."

"He is. And he didn't choose for this to happen, and he still loves me."

"God, don't tell me you feel guilty. Do you know how pathetic that sounds? Quit acting like your life is such a tragedy, Possible, because you have no idea what that's like."

She's right. But I still do feel guilty, and moreover, I'm confused as hell. Why have I never questioned this? When it's Shego, of all people? And why is it still happening?

"Why are we doing this, Shego?"

She grunts. "Because you are the only one who's ever been my equal at anything. So, ipso facto, the sex is fantastic."

Because, when it comes down to it, we really don't hate each other as much as we would like people to think. If nothing else, I respect Shego as a worthy adversary, as she does me. I know that in some ways, even before the feelings were mutual, that Shego harbored some sort of affection for me, perhaps in a twisted kind of protégée manner. She had saved my life on more than one occasion, and I knew then that all of it wasn't just for fucks and grins.

But all of that goes unspoken.

After a few moments of awkward silence Shego begins to rise from the bed in her usual manner. "I shouldn't have stayed so long."

For an unknown reason I feel panic rise within my throat, an occurrence that's never taken place. Why should I care if I've ruffled her feathers a little bit? She's easy to anger anyway.

I sit up. "Wait!"

Just then, a streak of lightening flashes across the sky and then skies begin to pelt the window with heavy cold raindrops. Shego slides out of bed and stands fully nude watching the rain fall outside.

"Shit. I'm going to get a fucking cold or the flu or something. I shouldn't have stayed."

"You can stay until the rain passes". I'm breaking the unwritten rule, but nothing about this night seems conventional about our normal arrangements anyway.

I watch her carefully. Naked, she looks just a formidable and regal as she does clothed. She fully aware of her sexual attractiveness, I'm sure, as she's not above flaunting it to get what she wants. Especially with me.

She turns and looks at me intensely, I'm sure mentally weighing the options of staying here versus risking her health in the cold rain. Finally, she walks back to the bed, and lies down next to me.

"Like the view there, Possible?"

I don't dare respond, but I'm overcome with the desire to kiss her again. I fight it off, though, because I'm too tired to start another sexual romp. Shego mistakes my silence for hostility, and the next time she speaks her voice has recovered its edge.

"Look, if you're not into this then I'm not going to bother, Possible. I don't have time to baby-sit you while you're going through your little guilt trip sexuality crisis thing over here.

"God, you really have like no patience, do you?"

"Answer me this, Possible. Do you want me to stop coming?"

Yes. No. Definitely not. It would be so much easier if she had just never shown up at all, but I can't change past events, nor do I want to. I hang my head. "No." It comes out as a whisper.

She leans closer to me. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."

"No," I answer, much louder this time. "But, Jesus, Shego, we've turned everything upside down. Does none of this bother you at all?"

"What? Sleeping with the enemy? Or sleeping with a woman?"

I throw up my hands in exasperation. "Both!"

"You know, for someone as smart and strong as you are, Princess, you sure are a whiny little bitch."

I snarl at her. "Shut up."

"Seriously, though. You think you are so sure of who you are, Kim, and the slightest hiccup in your plans creates this big life crisis. Well, let me tell you, Princess, it's okay not to know some things, to be willing to figure them out when the time comes. Get over yourself. I'm out of here."

And she slides out of my bed for the second time tonight.

"Wait," I say again, finding within myself a newfound confidence. "Stay. For a few more hours."

Her eyes tell me she's not convinced, but I plead my case anyway. "You want me to do something different right? Well, I'm asking you to stay."

She looks nervous, vulnerable. Then again, so am I.

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

But it will, if she does. Then I'll know she's just as lonely as I am, and needs the comfort just as much. For a few moments, everything hangs in limbo.

"Okay, then."

I heave a sigh of relief. She settles back in next to me, and I pull the covers over us. We don't cuddle, Shego doesn't really seem like the type, and this is uncharted territory.

"You'd better not snore, Princess." She says lightly. I grin to myself.

"I'm not cooking you breakfast tomorrow."

She laughs, and I close my eyes, let sleep overtake me.

--

I awaken later. How much later, I don't know, but judging by the light, it must be morning.

But this morning feels different. I have no idea what time it is. No alarm clock blaring to wake me for school, no Kimmunicator chirping with Wade's news of a new mission. And, most importantly, there is a warm presence next to me in my bed. Shego.

I'm slightly surprised to see her still beside me. Half of me expected that she'd be long gone by now.

For a second, I panic. How long did we sleep? Not too long, I pray silently, as Shego and I could get some very unwanted visitors if it's late morning. I glance at the window. The rain has stopped, and the sun is just beginning to show itself on the horizon. I move my eyes from the window to the clock quickly. Almost 7. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Shego still sleeps next to me, and I turn to watch her. She seems so peaceful and innocent in her sleep, without her usual affected airs and attitudes. And she's beautiful. It's not often enough that I admit that Shego is a very beautiful woman.

She stirs, her eyes flutter open. She rubs her eyes briefly, as if trying to remember why she is where she is. Then she looks at me.

"Time?"

"Seven."

She nods, and gets out of bed, stretching her muscled body. I can't help but blush at her nakedness, at my own, at the memories of what we did last night.

I watch her as she dresses, underwear, bra, socks, pants, shirt, and shoes. She wordlessly makes her way to my window, and pushes it open with a slight grunt. It seems weird, letting her leave like this.

"Wait." I say, voice thick with sleep. She pauses.

"Was all this okay?" The sleeping side by side, the words exchanged. Maybe I am just looking for a reassurance for myself. But she just smiles at me, a warm smile that I don't see from her often.

"I'll get a motel room next time, okay Kimmie?"

I smile. Next time. "Okay."

And with that, she's gone.

They say keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. But what is she, a friend, or an enemy? Neither? Both? To say the very least, our relationship is complicated, and whatever happened last night and this morning made it even more so.

Sleep begins to tug at my eyes again and I spread across the rest of the bed, savoring the residual warmth left by her body. For once in a long while, my insomnia is nowhere in sight.

So Shego and I will continue to walk the fine line between love and hate, sparring in the daylight, sharing a bed at night. And eventually all of it might be brought into broad daylight, and then both of us will have to deal with our own consequences.

And she is right in that I don't truly know who Kim Possible is, and for the first time since this whole thing started I'm starting to accept it. I can finally come to terms with being a work in progress. I may never have all the answers, but I know whatever I need to be, I am becoming.

End