'Hit the town' to my mother apparently meant enjoying the atmosphere of a run-down club of middle-age people. All of whom Mom seemed to be on first-name basis with. Who knew she got out this much.
Taking a proverbial step back, it occurs to me that though middle-aged, they were all the same age as my parents. Which makes me feel like an asshole all over again. When did I become such a terrible person? My mom and I sip at our glasses, her attention back from whatever colleague or old friend she was previously engaged with.
"Now that you're old enough to drink, we can spend time together at night!" She hugs me swiftly and retreats to her stool. "Good thing you don't have a curfew."
I chuckle, "Thank you," I tilt my glass at her, "Mom, for that." We'd been here for over an hour and I'm still nursing my second drink. "And for the drinks."
She snorts into her cup, "You mean your tab, Kimmie?" I redden slightly and abort my hailing of the bartender. She flips her hair, "No big. Really though, I'm glad you came out here with me. It's been so long since we've had some quality one-on-one time together, just for the heck of it - I mean."
"Any time Mom," I slide from my stool to give a return-hug, "I love you."
I kiss her cheek. She ruffles my hair. "I love you too, Bubble-Butt."
"MOM!"
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I lounge in the neighbor's tree as my quarry returns, holding up her mother. Slipping through the shadows, I meet her at her window. The lights flick on.
"I never figured a shorty like you would be anyone's butt-rest, Kimmie." She rolls her eyes.
"Well I couldn't support an ass like yours." I feign irritation.
I turn to review my backside, "You're right, you're beneath it."
When she pushes pass me to lie down, her "Uh huh, right" forces my hand. I flip her onto her stomach, twisting her arm into the small of her back. Successfully pinning my victim, I sit on her. "Told ya."
I relinquish my hold with a laugh. "Get off me dammit." I shake my head, then laugh some more at observing that she wouldn't see it.
After another moment, I roll off her and onto the clear side of the bed. I shove her over for more space. Suddenly, hands at my wrists and knees at my hips, I find myself pinned under 130 pounds of cheerleader and wiry muscle. "Who's under who now?"
"'Under whom'." I waggle my eyebrows suggestively. "Didn't know you liked power-games, but I should've known better Princess."
Cue the blush. Instead, she leans in to rest her chin on my shoulder, speaking breathily in my sensitive ear, "Baby, I've got a few drinks in me. I'm free to play any kind of game you're into." Checking the moan to stay stuck in my throat, I arch back to look her in the eye. My mouth closes and my face scrunches to a pout when she laughs at me. "JK! You should've seen your face! You were all like Ahh!" She throws her hands up in mock-panic.
I sit up and grab her by the scruff above her nape, pulling her close. I touch my nose to hers and drawl out, "Don't tempt me." I tilt my head. Her breath hitches.
I surge forward and nip her bottom lip teasingly before landing an impish peck on her cheek. Possible puffs out a lungful of tightly-held air; I flash her a toothy grin. "Didn't your mom teach you not to play with fire?" With a smirk, I push the deflated girl's shoulder onto the bed to lay with me. "How was 'girl's night out'?"
"It was good." Her eyes blank out for a moment as her smile drops, "I learned things about my parents' sex life and the horror may outlive me. Also, my mom's a lightweight." So are you. I hold my tongue. "But I had a few drinks and it was nice."
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She props up on an elbow, peering eyes search mine. "Finally learned your lesson, did you?" Picking up dudes? "I asked you once before, but you were wasted: Why do you drink so much?"
Oh. "What do you mean?" Stop stalling. Shego tilts her head as if to say 'You know exactly what I'm talking about'. And I do. I look away. "I'm Kim Possible. I can do anything. Anything's possible for a Possible," I finish lamely.
She rolls her eyes, "I'm pretty sure indulging in a chemical coma is not what that motto was intended for." She takes my chin in a gentle hand, turning me to face her. Electricity firing between our eyes as they lock, she asks again, "Why do you do this to yourself?" I try to tear away, but her grip is firmer than I gave it credit for.
I mist up and curse my weakness. Ses. Weaknesses. "I have to. I can do anything, even handle one more drink."
"Alcohol consumption isn't a competition, Kimmie. It's a poison. I know you're in college and there's this whole 'experimenting' stage, but honestly? I think you're old enough to know better. Especially after all the shit you've done."
I feel myself bristling at her callous way of not beating-around-the-bush even though I know I should be thankful for it. I take a deep breath. "I mean it though. I feel like I'm obligated. Someone hands me a drink - I drink it. Someone takes a drink, I match it." I rub my neck in thought, "No one's ever asked why before…" No one's taken care of me before, not like you do.
How am I supposed to tell Shego that I'm… "You can't let some other person dictate how much you drown yourself in brew. You took a class on booze, doesn't it weird you out now that it's all fermented? I gagged a little the first time I heard it."
"I'm sure you were like 12," I retort. She grudgingly nods. I can do this. "I'm scared."
"Of 12-year-old me?"
"No, smart-ass. Of the consequences of not drinking. Socially. Emotionally. I don't want to feel left out. I feel like every bit of alcohol I come into contact with is a tiny challenge I have to overcome." I reach for the jewel at my throat, feeling the cold lance through me like a sudden sobriety. "I tell myself to stop after 7. Or so. I always do. But it feels like I'm breaking the rhythm if I turn down another.
"It's like, I don't want to disappoint anyone." I swallow hard, "I usually end up alright, so I try to keep faith in that. I know that's not the best idea, and I know you've helped me through a lot of it, but I jus- I'm at a loss of what to do next, y'know?" I look into bewitching emerald eyes and fight through the last of my admittedly-shitty explanation.
"I always figure I'm only hurting myself, so it's okay."
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It's okay? I can play this game.
I punch her square in the face.
"WHAT THE FUCK." I shrug. That was exactly what I expected. At least I guessed something correctly tonight.
"What? It only hurt you right?" She glares at me, throwing her arms to indicate something along the lines of either so what? and do I look like I give a damn that I'm the only one hurt? "So… it's not okay?"
"You're damn right it's not okay! Holy shit Shego, that hurt!" Her eyes still teary, hands running alongside the ridge of her nose. "Am I bleeding?"
"No." Don't be such a baby, Princess. I made sure you'd be okay. "I think I may be misunderstanding what you're saying: even though me hitting you only hurts you, I shouldn't do it?"
"YES!" Eyes wide with angry bewilderment. She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, "I'm here pouring my soul out to you about my issues and you hit me?
"What the hell would make you think it's okay!" Jackpot.
I grab her shoulders and shake her back. Triumph: "I don't know, you tell me!" I push her off me and disengage. "It's not okay. It isn't alright for me to hurt you, but that doesn't make it okay for you to hurt yourself." I sit on the edge of the bed, "So stop it. I don't have enough friends to just let you kill yourself. So please, stay with me?"
"What, are you asking me to stop drinking?" She shrugs me off. "I'm not just some alcoholic uncle of yours."
"No, but you're my alcoholic buddy who's ruining, at the very least, a once-perfectly good liver." I pull back a corner of my lip in a thoughtful-but-not-smiling expression. "I don't want you to stop drinking. That's not the problem. It's just that not fitting in is not a reason for the Kim Possible to get smashed."
She lifts her hands in surrender.
"Alright! Alright, I'll think about it." I smile. I can settle for that. It's code for 'I'm too damn stubborn to admit you're right'. She can admit I'm right later.
She pulls me by the wrist to return to bed. She can drop goons 5 times her size, but she has trouble sleeping alone. Smiling lightly, I indulge the surprisingly vulnerable girl.
I don't think I'll ever understand her. Even if it is worth the effort.
"Good night Shego."
"Good night Princess." Still too late…
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"Mmm, oh Kim!" Long fingers thread themselves into the long, red locks of my hair, putting me closer to the heat. I smile wickedly as my tongue brings out a sharp cry and a whimper. Hips roll for attention. I bring a hand forward to press the sensitive spot in the hollow under her left hip. Another moan follows the gasp.
Suddenly I'm flat on my back, head spinning from the speed with which we switched places. "My turn to play this game of yours." A grin equally wicked as my fading one spread over black-painted lips before they claimed a nipple.
"Oh…" Damn does that feel good.
Light filters in as my eyes open and I wonder when I closed them. Shego you tease.
I'm burning up and she's all the way over there. Why would you leave me?
Never mind that, I roll over to her, applying pressure to the same spot by her hip and lean for the kill. She moans into my kiss. I bite her lip roughly.
Her brow knits together. Opening her eyes, she says: "Kimmie?"
Oh FML.
This is not the dream I woke up from.
She continues to stare in consternation and I can't find the words to answer her.
I kissed Shego.
Shego knows I kissed her.
"Kimmie-cub! Are you up?" Saved by my dad.
Shit, my dad! I hurry a dazed Shego up and into her clothes. "Yeah, Dad!" I know he's gonna take that as an invitation to come in. No big…
Like clockwork, the doorknob was turning. I shove her out the window. "Alright, your mother and I thought that since we were both free for another hour or so, we would have a family breakfast like we used to!"
"Sounds great Dad." God, that thump did not sound so good. I call out an apology and rush down the stairs to my family.
Shego's gonna kill me.
