A/N: I don't own Kim Possible. The mass marketing ploy that is Disney owns Kim Possible. I only own my computer, a feather comforter, and all the ideas in my sometimes very strange head. For those of you that need warnings, a slash pairing lies ahead. Right. Ready go.

As You Wish

The first time they had fought one another, he had looked into his foe's eyes and told him, on no uncertain circumstances, that they were going to kick each other's asses. His opponent had looked down an aquiline nose, snorted distastefully, and replied, "As you wish."

Of course, his opponent had been foiled, due mostly in part to his red headed best friend. It was not the last time the two were to battle. Fate, in her imperceptible movements and wry sense of humor, had bound the two together. And so, time and time again, they fought. Time and time again, his opponent was foiled. Time and time again, the teenage boy heard that rough British voice saying, "As you wish."

And he began to wonder.

In a world where black and white seemed always defined, the lines began to blur. His best friend, whom he had thought he loved for many years, was in his embrace for a time, and he was happy; but things change and people grow, and Kimberly Anne chose another love.

As their lives went on, and black and white became more grey, he started to perceive, if only a little, the thread of fate that bound him to his hated foe, that tiny cosmic joke that would force them face to face time and time again. That soft echo of laughter that declared, although he feared primates with all his being, that he bear the cross of Tai Shing Pek War.

But Fate did not declare he would bear it alone.

And so it was that he stood there, on that cliff, in the land of his ancestry and his foe's home ground, and he heard the steady sound of steps he had learned to hate.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned around. He was older now, wiser; years had washed the freckles from his face and the goofiness from his dress, yet deep within there was a spark no darkness could taint.

He looked carefully over his foe. The years had changed him little; still tall, and broad, and oh so dark, with black hair that shone like glass and grey eyes that reflected the angry ocean.

"Do you always sneak up on people?"

"It is a ninja's prerogative, Stoppable. Now answer my question."

"I'm here to deliver something." And it was mostly true; the thick, creamy envelope in his pocket was indeed addressed to one Montgomery Fiske, Castle Fiske, Edinburough, England, asking would he please attend the wedding of one Sheena Goh, to one Kimberly Anne Possible, in two months' time. But that was not all. And his foe knew it.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you to answer questions fully, Stoppable?"

He smiled lightly. "Yeah, I guess she did, but I've never been too good at listening, Monkey Fist."

"That part of my life is over."

And so it was; there wasn't a publication on the planet that had not carried the story two years prior, when Montgomery Fiske finally absolved himself of all his crimes. Whether Global Justice had a hand in the clearance, he did not know; nor did he think he wanted to know. Some things are just better left alone.

"Alrighty, then, Monty." He said with a lopsided grin his foe remembered. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away, Stoppable."

"Kiss me?"

And two cosmic threads came together in a silent clash that shook the universes as Montgomery Fiske, for the first time in his life, was left speechless. Well, mostly speechless.

The Englishman walked forward, a human gait on simian feet, raising a hand and brushing long blonde bangs away from raging brown eyes. In those eyes every battle was replayed; every taunt, every strike, every block. It was a if they had performed a long and intricate courting dance, all leading down to this single moment.

"As you wish, Ronald."

Ron Stoppable did not have time to comment on the one person who remembered his name before Montgomery Fiske yanked him into his arms with a declaration of love that was remarkably similar to a kiss, and Fate nodded her head firmly and in satisfaction, knowing, of course, that she had been right all along.

A/N: Okay, so I know the pairing's a little whacked out for some people, but it's still one of my favorites. Comments? Crits? If you feel the need to tell me about the wicked long sentences, I already know. Feel free to click that little button and tell Caith what you think. Flamers please exit stage left. I may write a sequel. Maybe. If I feel like it.