To those who have read my story, thank you. To those who have read and reviewed, thank you vey much. Your comments and encouragement have been the moving force in getting this far. Many of you have brightened my day with a laugh, or an insight into the story I had not realized. Again, thanks to all. It seems silly, but, in case you don't know it already, KP and anything mentioned on the program belong to Disney. (Those mindless bureaucrats. I sold my Disney stock when they did not renew KP.)

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Happy birthday KP: Chapter 5

I.

Ronald Dean Stoppable's tail was dragging somewhere around his toes as he exited his first class flight at Middleton International airport. He had called his parents from Tokyo to inform them of his arrival time, only to have his father apologize for having to miss him. An emergency meeting called by his mother's company had been scheduled in Norway, and the working, expense paid vacation was just too good to turn down. Mr. Stoppable explained that he and Mrs. Stoppable were already mid-Atlantic on their flight. Ron had congratulated his parents on their good fortune; agreeing that he could catch a cab with no problem. That had been in Tokyo, in anticipation of ten hours sleep on a twelve hour flight.

That plan had tanked. Ron's control had been barely sufficient to allow him to make his farewells to Sensei and Yori, but a lost-in-his-own-world blank expression had spread over his face as soon as he passed over the swinging bridge. He had a vague memory of getting on a bus at the base of the mountain, but only a nebulous impression of movement until he recovered in time to call his parents from Tokyo. After boarding his flight he lapsed back into his dream state.

Ron's problem: His virtuous love's last words to him. His conscious mind refused to accept her words at face value. Surely, he had misunderstood. As soon as he relaxed his guard or fell asleep, however, his slavering, howling subconscious leaped the bars of its' cage and took control. This explained his plans tanking. Every time he had managed to fall asleep, he would be awakened by either a grinning or a giggling stewardess.

Now, he stood at the baggage carousel, wanting nothing more than his bed and blessed sleep, watching the last cab pull away, as the PA blared that some luggage would be late unloading. Barely conscious, he watched the chrome carousel and its' hypnotic, revolving dance.

Ron slouched, barely able to keep his eyes open, when a soft hand stroked his jaw, turning his gaze to an emerald eyed vision.

"Ron, sweetie, what happened? You look beat."

He stared at her with the eyes of a man thirsting in the desert. "Rough flight, couldn't sleep."

"Well, come on, Kimmie will take care of you." She cooed as she led him out to a waiting car. Sliding him into the passenger seat, Kim stroked his hair, softly promising, "I'll get your bags, go to sleep, poor baby."

Ron gratefully kissed her hand before his eyes fluttered shut.

II.

Hugging his pillow, trying vainly to recapture his blessed state of unconsciousness, Ron reluctantly began to wake. He sleepily realized that he was wearing only his boxers, then began to wonder where he was. Cracking one bleary eye, he could see his desk. Muttering "Tha's all right, then", he prepared to collapse once more.

A hand began stroking his bare back. "Ronnie, come on, sweetie, wake up."

He recognized that sultry purr. He had heard it once on a phone, and hundreds of times in his dreams. He almost threw his back out twisting to confirm his hearing with starting eyes.

"KP?"

"It better be." She pouted, "How many other girls come in your room?"

He wished fervently there was a way to jump start his foggy brain. "Only you, KP, only you. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Ronnie, I knew after that long flight, and as tired as you were, you wouldn't be up to cooking, so," smiling proudly she placed a tray over his legs, "I made you breakfast."

III.

"Did he eat it?"

"Eggshells, burnt edges, and all."

"D-did he smile?" Monique was holding her aching ribs, but nothing could stop the tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Even… even when he it sounded like he cracked a tooth on the toast."

Both Kim and Monique collapsed in helpless laughter.

"That boy really loves you." Monique gasped.

"I love him too," Kim struggled for some control, "but that doesn't mean he gets off that easy. He'll remember this next two weeks for the rest of his life."

Monique gaped at her friend in amazement, "You mean you're going through with the whole plan? Girlfriend, I thought you wrote that up just to vent."

"Now, Mo', when have I ever just wasted a plan I put that much work into?"

Both girls fell onto Kim's bed, giggling uncontrollably, "Poor BF, poor, poor BF."

IV.

Ron couldn't wipe the goofy grin he'd worn for the last two weeks off his face. This last two weeks had been….wonderful, like something out of a dream. Other than the crummy tummy he'd had after Kim's loving attempts at cooking, his life had been perfect. He'd recovered from his flight (and cramping stomach), helped by the best back rub he'd ever experienced. Kim had scored ringside GWA tickets for the both of them. She had clutched and stroked his arm all through the matches.

Then the movie, a horror film she had insisted on watching cuddled in his lap because she was "frightened".

The evenings spent snuggling and talking.

The picnic on a private beach, where he had to take a quick dive into the freezing lake after Kim dropped her short beach robe exposing the smallest bikini he'd ever seen her wear. His stuttered explanation that he had to wash off the soda he had spilled on himself making her giggle. (He had had to wash off soda, but not spilled, it came from the soda can that had exploded in his suddenly clenching hand.)

Then, last night, she had met him at her door wearing the black dress and red heels of the moodulator incident. She had added red hose to her ensemble. A small, wicked smile was his reward for his goggle eyed appreciation. They had gone to Francois', the best French restaurant in the tri-city area. There, his culinary skills allowed him to order an impressively delicious dinner, while the private dance floor allowed Kim to award him flashes of pale white thigh above sheerred stockings. By the time they left, he was certain his mind had melted.

He knew it had when she called him thirty minutes after he left her at her door, to relate in that smoky, sensuous voice the dream she had teased him with in Japan.

Sitting at his desk, attempting to focus on the Zombie Mashers VIII pre-release game Kim had somehow gotten for him, Ron knew life was good, life was great, life couldn't get any…

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

"What's the sitch, Wade?"

"You'd better amp down that grin before you break your jaw, monkey boy."

"Can't be done." Ron laughed, "Not even the monkey crack can bother me today. Whassup?"

"Not enough to wipe that grin, Frugal Lucre is at a warehouse right here in town."

"OK, have you called Kim?"

"Yeah, you have to go solo on this one; Kim said she twisted her ankle on one of the tweebs' wacked inventions. She said you could handle it."

Ron panicked, "Kim's hurt? Has she seen a doctor? How about x-rays, I need to…"

"You need to slow down and take care of business." Wade scolded. "Remember, her mother is a doctor."

"Oh, yeah, heh, forgot." Ron sheepishly admitted.

"Head in the game, Ron," Wade grinned, "you can get there on your scooter, at this address."

V.

Monique ruffled Wade's hair affectionately, "Good job, tech boy."

"Yes," Emerald eyes leveled into his resigned black orbs, "Only one more little thing and you are back to rockin'."