Kim Possible looked up from her book at the feeling of a cold breeze, shivering slightly, and glanced at the clock. It read two eleven AM, the numbers glowing a somewhat sullen red in the apartment's half darkness. She sighed and felt her brows knit together, before setting her book on the nightstand and crossing her arms in irritation.
"Miss me, Pumpkin?" Kim glared at the other woman, silhouetted in the dark of her bedroom door. She had her arms up at shoulder level, elbows braced against the doorframe and gloved hands hanging languidly down the sides. Her black hair shone in the dim light cast by the New York cityscape outside, hundreds of lit windows casting their glow throughout the city. Her face was shadowed, the door was too far from the bed for the little lamp on the nightstand to reveal much, but Kim could imagine the smirk on her girlfriend's face.
"It's two in the morning! Where the hell have you been? And you could at least close the window? It's cold in here." Shego dropped her arms and undid the clasp of her catsuit, stepping into the bedroom. She shook her head convulsively, drops of melted snow sparkling in the lamplight, and ran gloved hands through black hair before making her way to the closet.
"Just out for a bit of a stroll." She stripped off the gloves of her signature catsuit and unclipped her ankle pouch before tossing the latter to Kim, who caught it reflexively. "Got you something." The younger woman grimaced, fighting curiosity. Shego's "gifts" weren't really the high point of her week, and the other woman knew it. They were invariably tasteful and Kim hated to do it, but she could never accept a stolen gift. "You know I'll return it tomorrow night, Kimmie. I'll even buy you one to replace it, if you want," Shego continued to undress, peeling off the catsuit in a way that Kim had never, ever been able to stop finding sexy.
"That's not the point, and you know it." It was an old argument, and Kim left it at that. Too many times, they'd butted heads over the same things, and they'd both learned to leave some of them be. Kim looked at the ankle pouch, feeling the weight of a long, rectangular box inside. A necklace, probably a stunning one from Tiffany's down on Fifth Avenue, and she fought down the desire to open the box, to look, even if she wouldn't be keeping it. Later, once Shego was well and truly asleep, Kim would creep into the bathroom, turn on the light, and take a look. Not now, not when she'd give the grinning thief the satisfaction.
Shego hung her catsuit on a hanger beside two others, and stepped into a pair of silk pajama bottoms. A bit of quiet rustling produced an old, black tee shirt, which she shrugged on before slipping into bed beside Kim. The redhead shot her an aggrieved look.
"Window." Shego pouted. "Now." She rolled her eyes, slipped from the bed and padded off through the apartment. In the nighttime glow, she was able to make her way without tripping over any of the luxurious, leather furniture. She dodged an end table beside the loveseat and grinned wryly at the photographs that Kim insisted on putting there, photos of the two of them, of family, of friends. The apartment's spare, modern lines were broken from time to time by similar knickknacks and mementos, tokens of past lives. Over the gas fireplace, two stylized keys occupied the center of the display, and Shego blushed a bit. They weren't identical, or even similar looking. One was mounted on a mahogany plaque, and without seeing it Shego could remember the writing in bronze.
For Shego, With Thanks
Go City, 1999
Kim had insisted, of course, when she'd found it. Shego grinned at the memory of that argument, which had lasted for days and had only ended when Kim, tired of sleeping on the couch, had threatened to fight it out with her unless she could sleep in the bed again. There had certainly been some contact as a result, but it wasn't fists and feet. Shego's grin grew predatory. Makeup sex was the best.
The other key was, frankly, a little tacky looking. It was big and metallic, attached to a fat blue ribbon. Gold letters glittered on the ribbon, proclaiming proudly:
Kim Possible
With Gratitude from the City of Middleton
2007
She tolerated that one because Kim liked it, and that was enough. It made Kimmie happy to remember her heroing days, and a few years into college she didn't have time for quite so much world-saving, so the memories were important to her. Shego didn't mind, as long as she wasn't getting arrested and could come home at night, so up on the mantlepiece the key had gone.
"Shego, what are you doing out there?" Kim's voice, soft and perplexed, floated out of the bedroom. "Shut the window and come to bed." The older woman shook her head slightly and covered the remaining distance to the window before cranking it shut. Whoops, must have drifted off there for a second. Later than I thought. She padded back to bed and snuggled down beneath the covers, resting a gentle and slightly possessive arm around her lover. Mine.
Kim glanced down at the pale, slightly green arm around her middle. She grinned widely and closed her book. Shego's touches were sweet and caring, but the other woman liked to "mark her territory," as it were. She felt a little bubble of warmth in her chest. Sometimes it felt good to be possessed. Her book went on the nightstand as she reached up to turn off the lamp, bathing the room in the diffuse New York glow.
"Night, Shego." The older woman raised her head and planted a soft kiss on Kim's temple.
"Night, cupcake."
