Disclaimer: Don't own KP

A Note from the Authoress: Here we are, another bad chapter. I really apologize for the quality of this fic, but after all, it's NaNo, meaning Quantity > Quality. Thanks everyone for sticking with me!

surforst: Yup, poor Josh, and I'm sure Ron's mind was in the gutter, too. ;) Kim does want to rearrange Ron's dishes, as we'll soon see. Oh, I love Yori! That's why I put her in . . . even if she got killed. And yup, you get some Kim in this chapter.
swiglo3000: Thanks for your review, I'm glad you're enjoying!
Harufu: We'll learn about Yori in time, and I'm glad you enjoyed the changes.
3VAD127: Thank you so much!
MrDrP: We'll learn about the problems in Mankeyville in this chapter, well, one of them, that is. And yup, the affair signals are all over the place. Story's moving rather fast, but to cover the plot in a month, it's much needed. And KP's job? Well, I'll be dropping hints here and there, you might get it before the end. And look! You're a few steps ahead of me! Don't worry, your questions will be answered in time. I just found where I finished to be the most appropriate ending for the chapter.

Well, enjoy!

Chapter Five

Ron sat at his desk, reading through some paperwork, although each word had to be read three times before it actually made it to his brain for some form of processing; he was so easily distracted. It had been a week since he'd had dinner at the Mankeys, and, pleasant as it was, he couldn't help but be even more envious of Josh than he was before. His wife was perfect . . . or at least he thought so. Their marriage seemed happy, proving to him that although he may be Josh's business superior, he was way behind in all the ways that matter.

The phone rang; Ron pressed the button for the intercom. "Ron?" came the familiar, scratchy voice of Ned.

"Yeah?" Ron replied tiredly. He tossed his pen to the other side of his desk.

"There's a Ms. Possible here to see you. Would you like me to send her in?"

He immediately perked up, cleaning his papers up to make his desk (and himself) more presentable. "Yes . . . err . . . yes, send her in."

The intercom disconnected, and he set about straightening his tie. A few seconds later, his office door opened, and, as expected, there stood Josh's wife, Kim Possible.

"Hi," he greeted, probably a bit too excited.

She smiled. "Hi." An uncomfortable silence soon settled in, until Ron cleared his throat and Kim began, "You seemed to like the Alfredo sauce last week, so I . . . err . . . I didn't really have anything to do so I . . . um . . . wrote it out for you." She procured a little recipe card from her purse and held it out to him.

He stood, stumbling around his desk to meet her, retrieving the card and placing it on a safe spot by his computer. "Thanks," he said.

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Well," Ron ventured. "I'm sorry, but Josh is stuck in a meeting right now, I think." It was the truth, too, but, to do what he was about to do, he would've said it either way. "And . . . well, it's about time for my lunch break."

"Oh," Kim wilted.

"And I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me?" He was scratching the back of his neck, that nervous habit that had plagued him since high school.

She shone a bright smile at him. "I'd like that."

"Great," he smiled back, considering the restaurants in the area, fast food or otherwise. "What are you in the mood for?"

She shrugged. "What's good around here?"

He grinned that goofy grin she remembered from dinner. "Well, there's always Bueno Nacho." He wiggled an eyebrow at her.

She laughed, making a disgusted face. "No offense, but I think I've had more than enough over the past several years."

"Or," he amended, trying his best to sound charming. "There's a nice little café just down the street."

"Sounds great."

And with that, they headed off to the parking lot. Much to Ron's surprise, as they left the elevator she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "Kim?" he asked upon feeling the gentle pressure on his elbow.

"Hmm?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Not to sound rude, but . . . what are you doing?" He glanced to her hand comfortably rested on his arm.

"What?" She followed his gaze. "Oh!" she squeaked, withdrawing her hand immediately, blood quickly rising to the surface of her cheeks. "I'm sorry. It's a habit, I guess."

"Habit?" he asked, digging around in his pocket for his keys. "You and Josh go to a lot of fancy things like that?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Just out of high school he had lots of exhibits and things, and I had to be his eye candy." Still blushing she smiled at him.

"Eye candy?" He pretended to consider this for a moment, stroking his clean-shaven chin. "You?" He lowered his hand. "Yeah, I can see that." He offered her a charming and only slightly flirty grin.

She blushed. "Why thank you."

They both laughed, amused and having fun acting like teenagers again. Then Ron stopped. His face suddenly lost all mirth. "Please don't tell Josh I said that."

She snickered. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"No, really," he pressed on. "I'm serious. I'm not about to lose the only friend I've had since . . ." he thought of Yori, and his promises to Sensei. "Ever."

"He's not your only friend," Kim pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron just gave her a questioning look.

"Well, I'm your friend."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"That is," her voice sounded almost dejected. "If you want me to be." She gave him a small smile that told him everything: she was lonely. Despite what Josh had told him about how she was in high school, she was terribly and completely lonely. Of course Josh didn't notice it; he was always at work, and Kim's happiness when he was with her, that reprieve from the loneliness she must endure, was probably misinterpreted as enduring, devoted love.

"That would be . . . great," he answered, smiling. He pressed the little button on his keychain, and the doors to his fancy convertible unlocked. He went around to the passenger side and held the door open. "After you." She slid in and sat delicately on the leather seat, thanking him and putting on her seatbelt.

Soon, he was seated beside her, and they were en route to the restaurant.

They were seated inside, near a window. The room smelt of fresh bread and chocolate, a delightful combination, and Kim couldn't help but sigh happily at the sensations. Ron smiled across the table at her.

"Having a good time?" he asked, quite nervous being in this situation, what appeared to be a date with his best friend's wife. He folded his hands on the edge of the table, if anything to resist reaching across and squeezing her fingers with his own, just like the way Josh did at dinner.

"Mhm," she hummed, taking a sip of her water, anxiously awaiting her meal. "You?"

"Yeah," Ron confessed. "I don't get out much. This is nice for a change."

"Josh mentioned that," she commented. "He also says he's afraid you're going to waste away one of these days. Says he's always reminding you to get some food in your system."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, sorry I'm taking him away from you so much."

A pained look seemed to cross her features. "It's all right. Not a whole lot different." Ron gave her a confused look. "Oh, no, it's not like that. We love each other. Dearly." She lapsed into thought for a moment, unsure of how and if she should say this. It was something very few people knew: Josh's family, her family, her friend Monique from high school, a few others . . . "Just, after what happened, things have been different between Josh and I . . . uninterested, almost."

Ron's expression only grew in confusion. "This might be a little personal, but . . . what happened?"

Kim sighed, and began wringing her cloth napkin within her hands. "It was a long time ago," she wouldn't look at him, her eyes focusing on the work her fingers were currently occupied with. "We . . . we got married when we were nineteen. I know, I know, we were very young, but . . . we turned out all right, didn't we?"

Ron began to nod, but she cut him off from even doing that.

"Well, we would have, I suppose." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, deep in thought. "When we were twenty, I found out that I was pregnant." She knew exactly what he was thinking; after all, they had no children. It was an honest confusion. "We were so happy," she gushed. "I wasn't planning on being a mother so soon, and Josh wasn't planning on it either, but we were happy nonetheless. We were all ready for it, too. And then . . . when I was at work . . ." her voice broke, and, either way, she had no way to express this to him. No description could explain her pain. "There was a lot of blood," she said simply. "I was fine, but . . . the baby didn't make it, and worse, the doctors said there'd never be a chance for me to have children again."

Ron stepped outside his box in that moment, understanding emotional pain, although his differed greatly from hers, he felt the need to empathize with her, to reach out and touch her hand. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She smiled sadly. "It's not your fault."

"It was a sort of commiserating 'sorry'," he countered.

When he was about to withdraw his hand, she held on fast. "It really hurt Josh," she said. "I suppose he knows there's no reason to blame me, but now I'm . . . somewhat inadequate."

Ron was about to protest, but she cut him off.

"No, Ron. I am." She looked at him, her gaze firm but kind. "When . . ." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "when Josh and I made love, I could tell that he . . . that he relished in the thought that our love could be productive. You know he's a man that loves to create . . . and after we lost the baby, and that became an impossibility . . . things happened."

Ron asked no more, after all, she'd already told him more than he ever expected, or wanted for that matter, to hear. He simply squeezed her hand.

The waitress came with their meals, and in setting Kim's place before her, managed to knock her purse over, little things spilling out across the table. All three jumped to help pick up the items, but Kim snapped something very unkind at the waitress and began stuffing things back in the bag, seemingly trying to conceal its contents. When Ron reached for a tube of lipstick she batted his hand away.

It was all right that she was anal like that.

But he couldn't help but notice that there was something black and shiny in the bottom of her purse.

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