Sorry that it's been like 765 years since I last updated. I've had writers block like a mofo. I think I've shaken it off now though. Drop a review and let me know what you think of my comeback chapter ;)
The streets leading off from campus, comprising the veins of the city are vast. Ron knows what one to look for though. He's been haunting the comic book shop several doors down from Guerrero's Last Stand, it's one of the few parts of the city that he knows well. Shego's eyes wander to a somewhat upscale looking boutique across the road. Ron's forced to swallow his timidity and seek her attention once more.
Heart in mouth, Ron tugs at Shego's sleeve. "They're um … I think they're open tomorrow, if you want to come back." He begins, attempting to segue into telling Shego to do something without raising her ire. "But anyway -"
Shego cuts him off, but her expression is shouldering and her eyes are alight with mischief. "Well then, trying to get me to spend the night already, are we Stoppable?" Shego drawls, lips popping with Ron's name.
Like a hapless goldfish, Ron's mouth opens and closes several times. They amble down the sidewalk and Ron fumbles with half formed comeback. He's saved from the ignominy of failure when his phone goes off. The ugly 8-bit sound yanks Ron from his reverie and he fishes the slab of plastic from his pocket.
"Uh, hello?" Ron asks, cupping his phone to his ear.
"Stoppable … Ron! I need you to help me, I – There is a situation unfolding and I need help." Drew's voice is nothing if not manic, crackling with absolute terror. Ron winces and moves his phone further away from his ear. From beside him, Ron catches something between curiosity and suspicion register on Shego's face.
"Um. Yeah. What can I do for you, Drew?" Ron asks, eyelids fluttering in an attempt to right his world. The past few moments have thrown it off its axis. Shego is – or rather, had been – flirting with him. Drew has called him to dust off his courage and play hero or something similar. It seems like something that must have begun as a bad joke.
"I have, I have made a grave error!" Drew shrieks in response.
"Oh … Okay." Ron's eyes widen and he just stares at his phone. He blinks again and looks to Shego for some form of guidance. Her shoulder jump up and down with a listless shrug. Drew will make his point before long, they seem to say.
"Oh Science, what have I done?" While Drew's previous outburst had been ear shattering, this one is more a depressive whisper.
Shego narrows her eyes and cranes her neck. It reminds Ron of the sort of annoyance one might experience when the volume dips during a particularly engaging movie. With a quick step, she swallows the distance between herself and Ron. Her presence carries a vague oppressiveness, but Ron swears there is a spark when her arm brushes his. They turn down the street toward Guerrero's Last Stand and Ron's heart hammers in his chest. A nervous roiling in his gut makes him wonder if he's going to puke.
Drew pipes up again, interruption Ron's inner crisis to bemoan his life. "This is just -"
"Would you hurry up and make your point. I'm going to die of starvation if you don't." Shego grits out, leaning closer to Ron's phone. Her tone is as curt as ever. Ron would laugh if her breath weren't whispering against his skin. He sucks in a strangled breath and tries to hone in on Drew's voice.
"Sa-Shego?" Drew addresses Shego with an alien syllable before correcting himself. In most cases, Ron would chalk it up to a panic stricken error. The low and terrifying growl that Shego emits in response makes him reconsider that.
"I was out in the cafeteria, it was lunchtime, you see." Wisely, Drew registers the threatening sound as confirmation of Shego's presence. He presses on and from the way he's setting the scene, Ron is sure that this story will not be a brief one. "I was eating, I think it was a ham sandwich, when she began to close in on me. It was busy in the cafeteria, a Wednesday – pizza day. I don't care for the cafeteria food though, so yes – it was a ham sandwich. Not a lot of tables that day. I don't think she would have come and sat beside me otherwise. Things were going fine for a while, rather cordial to tell you the truth -"
Shego again cuts in, a long-suffering grimace on her face. Ron just holds his phone and observes the exchange with interest. "Drakken." She crabs out, sneering into the phone. Ron wonders if she's using his former alias out of habit or as a means to shut him up. "It's obvious that this is a story about a girl, now give us a name."
"Oh. Uh … the girl was, her name was Kim Possible." Drew blurts out, words tripping all over one another.
Shego's hand comes down on Ron's shoulder. Her fingers are vice-like; her nails dig into his skin. She expels a slow, calming breath. "Go on." She hisses into the phone.
"Yes, well. There was a conversation – how things are going for me in research, her in the training center. You know, water cooler talk, but without the er, water cooler." Drew emits a low chuckle and Ron sighs in exasperation. Shego just screws her eyes shut in anger. "So that was okay, but then Kim Possible starts telling me about how the last company outing was unpleasant for her. Since I am a man of extraordinary principles, I then asked her why. The answer I got was – it set off a regrettable series of events."
Drew pauses – perhaps for dramatic effect – and Shego's annoyance simmers. She opens her eyes just to roll them. Ron bites back his amusement at how surreal the whole thing is.
"So what happened was this – Kim Possible told me that she was never taught to ballroom dance."
Shego sighs again. The light puff of air blows several strands of hair away from her face. "Let me guess, like a martyr, you offered to teach her. Now that you've realized that you'd have to make actual physical contact with her, you're freaking out?"
Ron blinks at Shego first and then at his phone. The phone doesn't explode with a retort from Drew, so Ron assumes the man is considering Shego's words.
"Yes Shego. That's exactly what I am doing." Drew fires back with strangled defiance. Shego arcs a slender brow at Ron, the faintest suggestion of incredulity crossing her face.
"Um – if I may?" Ron asks, looking to Shego for approval. Pursing her lips, she shrugs. Ron's skin prickles as her upper arm brushes his. They're still standing rather closer, he notices. "Drew. Kim is – she's just Kim. You don't have to worry about her freaking out as long as you're a gentleman."
"I'm a perfect gentleman." Drew snits.
"Okay, that's wonderful." Shego interjects, eyes wandering over to a blinking sign. "Look, we're almost at the restaurant Stoppable is taking me to and I'm kind of starving. We're going to go now."
At the same time Ron's formulating a farewell to Drew, Shego slides her fingers past Ron's and ends the call. As she pulls her hand back, their hands brush. The sensation is intense, but not altogether unpleasant. Ignoring the fluttering in his chest, Ron makes a show of expressing his displeasure - mild as it may be.
Unrepentant, Shego stares back at him, a smirk edging across her lips. There's a shimmering sort of glee in her green eyes. It sends a spark of uncomfortable recognition across the front of Ron's mind. This could have been any number of interactions between Kim and himself. For one brief and insane moment, Ron considers mentioning this to Shego. He doesn't though. That road is dark and filled with terrors.
"C'mon, idiot. Lets go and eat." Shego chimes, cutting through his thoughts before he has a chance to reconsider. She startles him with how happy she sounds.
"Oh." Ron mumbles, something winged still tumbling around in his chest. "Yeah, lets do that." He adds, more to himself than Shego.
He's sort of getting used to seeing Shego's face all lit up with a smile though. The white gleam of her teeth doesn't terrify him like it once did. He can see happiness in her eyes as they catch the light, rather than schemes unfulfilled. He can - so not go down that road in spite of what his hormones are thinking.
Making haste, Ron charges toward Guerrero's Last Stand. He's always had a gift for dulling his thoughts with food. If he can just get a taco into his hands, he'll be able to drown out the relentless thrum of Shego related thoughts and feelings.
In his rush get inside, Ron manages to almost slam the door in Shego's face. It's a good thing he's found himself on a sort of – not really – possibly date with a superhuman ex-villainess though. Her reflexes twitch into action and she catches the door in her palm. At the loud cracking sound, Ron pauses to turn. He shrinks back at Shego's fierce gaze, which seems to penetrate the pane of glass between them.
"Heh. Um … my bad." He blanches, opening the door for Shego to stalk through.
The walk to their table is thankfully less eventful. But perhaps that's because the restaurant's proprietor, a stout Mexican man named Eddie, leads them there.
Shego casts her usual weary gaze over the restaurant's décor. She absorbs it and seems to like it, for her posture relaxes. Having settled in, Shego leans back into her seat and sets about smirking her way through several stories of Drew's past societal failings. Ron even finds it within himself to dredge up several of his own anecdotes about social ineptitude. Through some minor miracle, Shego laughs at most of them.
At some point between stories Eddie takes Ron's and Shego's respective orders. From the moment the man departs, paranoia prickles at the backs of Ron's throat. With things going so well, it feels of monumental importance that Eddie's on form tonight. After the walk and the minor issues they've battled through to get here, it feels important that Shego enjoys her meal.
When their meals arrive, Ron watches Shego dissect her meal with bated breath. She lifts her fork and Ron feels his pulse quicken. She takes her first bite and -
"These Quesadillas aren't half bad." Shego murmurs, looking down the remaining food skewered on her fork.
Ron's mind floods with relief, then mild panic once more. During his musings, he's been staring into space - sort of at Shego - like a total creeper. Retreating backwards and into the backrest of his seat, Ron sets about looking busy. He hoists one of the pork tacos he's ordered toward his mouth and takes a quick bite. The food is good, just as he's hoped it would be. As he eats, it dulls the rest of his senses. It's only once he's finished his first taco that Ron casts a furtive glance at Shego. She's still eating. Her hands aren't glowing. There's no threat. He's fine to -
Shego's forest green eyes dart upwards.
"You look a million miles away, Stoppable." Shego mentions in an idle tone. There's no real accusation in her tone, only the barest suggestion of curiosity. She skewers another piece of quesadilla and regards him with a thoughtful expression.
"It's not … I've been listening tonight." Ron fumbles for a response, trying to put his mental state – something that he's only got a vague grip on - into words. "It's kind of … Okay, so I used to zone out a little bit in class and sometimes with Kim too. It wasn't like, I don't know. It wasn't like I wasn't – like I'm not – interested. My mind, crazy as it seems, just goes into overdrive sometimes. I am listening though. I am. Kim used to -" Ron winces at having invoked Kim's name so many times in such rapid succession. "Anyway, it used to drive her crazy. I can repeat what you were saying if you like, though. Even the part about Drew, a mug and three cows a few minutes ago."
"Oh." Shego blinks at him, slow and uncertain. Ron guesses she's attempting to sort his word vomit into something coherent. They watch each other for another moment or so until Shego's eyes brighten with sudden clarity. Her eyebrows rise with profound understanding and - "So first you wanted me to sleep over, now you're comparing me to a teacher?"
Ron's lower lip twitches. He doesn't say anything, but his cheeks bruise a somewhat impressive shade of puce. His jaw swings open and he stares, dumbfounded, at Shego. She looks down and with mock coyness, regards him through her long eyelashes.
She's mocking him. Again. Just like she would a regular friend.
"Shego, you know I'm not that adventurous." Ron states, trying to sound more confident than he feels. He shoves his apprehension to the back of his mind for just long enough to do something reckless. He returns fire. "If you have anything to teach me though, I suppose we could get the rest of our food put into containers …"
The comment seems to hang in the air forever. Ron has difficulty swallowing. His Adam's apple bobs laboriously and his eyes flit in the direction of the nearest exit. He's attempting to mentally calculate how long it will take him to clear it when a light snickering tugs his eyes back to Shego.
"Stoppable made a funny." She drawls, pursing her lips and nodding like it's a good thing.
An absolute flood of relief crashes over Ron at Shego's reaction. The innuendo he's just directed Shego's way, it might be the riskiest thing he's ever done –in a verbal sense at least. It also feels like another wall between Shego and himself tumbling down now that he's come through it unscathed.
After that, they're silent for a little while. Ron's always surprised when he happens to catch Shego eating. She's never shoveling food into her mouth as he expects her to. The few times Ron's shared a meal with Shego, she's always dissected her meal with surprising grace and patience. He wonders where he'd gotten the notion that Shego would be a reckless eater. Perhaps her fighting technique, he theorizes, picking up another taco.
"So what's next?" Shego asks, pressing a napkin to her lips. It draws Ron's attention to how soft and moist they look. Chasing those errant thoughts away, Ron shoves his plate into the middle of the table. It knocks over an empty glass and provides the perfect cover for Ron to think as he straightens things up.
Leaning over the table, Ron juggles several possibilities inside of his head. Though Shego and himself are just hanging out - attempting to be friends doing friend stuff – he can't help but want to impress her. It would be a whole lot easier to achieve that if he weren't still trying to find his feet in Boulder. He's only familiar with the College campus and the area surrounding in its immediate vicinity. Now that they've eaten, most of his other regular haunts will almost definitely bore Shego to tears. Like actual tears. Ron's tears when Shego beats him down for wasting her night. Straightening their dishes and furrowing his brow, Ron drops back into his seat. He forces himself to think harder, to wander deeper into the corridors of his mind. He's got to be forgetting something. This town cannot be that mundane.
Shego looks unimpressed as she awaits Ron's answer. For some reason, the dour look on her face brings a memory hurtling forth. It's covered in years of dust and smells of pine, but it's perfect.
Excitement, rather than apprehension blooms in Ron's chest. He holds Shego's gaze and begins his pitch. "So you're still sick of crowds and clubs and skuzzballs, right?"
"Well yeah, basically." Shego says, flippant as usual. She flicks a wave of hair away from her face and leans back into her seat.
"If you traveled to meet me by hovercraft, I have the perfect idea." Ron tells her bouncing a bit in his seat.
After that, Ron spends the next few moments convincing Shego to fly them to a set of co-ordinates rather than a named location. To get her to agree, Ron agrees to be under Shego's thumb for the next three weeks, starting from tomorrow.
With a destination in mind, they make to leave Guerrero's Last Stand. Eddie wraps up Ron's leftovers and Shego thanks him in conversational Spanish.
The stout Mexican man's features explode first into shock and then into joy. Ron's jaw swings loose as Shego makes amicable conversation with him in Spanish. Since relations between them have thawed, it's been in the back of Ron's mind that he doesn't know a lot about Shego. He's aware of her criminal record and other scraps of information. Nothing of real importance though.
He's picked up things here and there, but most of it has been inconsequential. Ron's not even sure what her first name is. He's got theories and several near slips by Drew, but nothing concrete. The conversation between Shego and Eddie continues as he ponders this. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Ron wonders how many other languages Shego knows. Maybe it's just the one. It's possible that she'd learnt it at school or from her parents. He doesn't know anything about them either, so he doesn't dismiss the possibility. Pursing his lips, Ron tries to picture Shego with darker, browner skin. With her wavy hair and her pouty lips, he supposes that Latin heritage is possible.
It's at that moment that Shego's eyes find Ron again. Faint confusion and then realization invade her expression for a stolen second. She smothers the emotions and then says something else to Eddie. From the way she waves a negligent arm in Ron's direction, he supposes that whatever she's said relates to him.
From the way Eddie starts shuffling toward the front door, it must have been a farewell of some sort. Ron feels grateful and a little awed. She must have noticed his awkward posture and wandering mind. Eddie makes a big show of opening the door for them. He murmurs something to Shego and she scowls. Her cheekbones flush as Eddie cackles in amusement. Not for the first time, Ron wishes he could speak Spanish.
Ron and Shego march down the front steps of Guerrero's Last Stand, back into the night. It's colder now; a chill hangs in the air. Shego's eyes continue to wander, running over the buildings crowding the street. Ron pushes his hands into his pockets and strolls alongside her. Though Ron's pulled himself out of his head and back into the real world for the most part, one thought refuses to abate. Biting down on the inside of his lip, he glances over at Shego.
"Didn't know you spoke Spanish." Ron says, aiming for casual, as Shego and himself amble forward.
Shego's head swings toward Ron. She holds his gaze for a short moment, maybe trying to gauge his intentions. Though he's desperate to inspect the pavement, Ron forces himself to meet Shego's eyes.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Shego replies after some deliberation. Her voice is calm and collected as it often is when she isn't upset or snarking at somebody.
A follow up question tries to claw its way up Ron's throat. He swallows it down, down until it drowns in the pit of his stomach. She's answered him, but she hasn't given him any new information. Ron's learnt a little bit about reading the tone Shego uses to convey her esoteric responses. It often tells him more about what she's thinking than the words themselves. In this case, Shego's tone warns Ron not to badger her.
They continue to wander the streets for several more minutes.
Shego abruptly takes the lead when they pass a neglected looking alley. She more or less shoves Ron into its long shadows. Shrugging, Ron blithely continues on. Shego's recognized the alley, he supposes. More than likely she's parked her hovercraft nearby.
Shego stops in front of an empty lot a few minutes later, confirming Ron's suspicions. With a lazy motion, she fishes a remote from her Jacket and jabs a series of buttons. There's a flickering in the shadows and then Ron's eyes are resting on a familiar vehicle. More out of habit than fear, Ron flinches. Shego peers over her shoulder at him. All soaked in shadows, she doesn't offer the mean quip he's expecting. Instead, Shego's expression is soft and a little bit amused. Her posture isn't quite as severe as Ron's used to. It's a good look on her.
"Okay Stoppable, fine." She says without preamble. "I speak Spanish and a little Portuguese. My mom was born in Spain and lived in Brazil until she met my dad." With that scrap of her personal history floating between then, Shego's jaw snaps shut. She turns away from Ron and places one foot on the ladder mounted to the side of her hovercraft.
"Do not mention that to anybody. Do not ask me any follow up questions." Shego instructs, climbing into the pilot's seat of her hovercraft.
Rocking his head into a nod Shego will never see, Ron makes his way over to the hovercraft. He clambers up the ladder without incident, but the craft's made of a smooth alloy. In attempting to cross it, Ron loses his footing three times. After a struggle, he eventually tumbles into his seat. Shego greets him with laughter. Not derisive cackling either, the sound is much too sweet. Glancing sidelong at Shego, Ron notices that Shego's somber mood has dissipated for the most part. His ungainly movements and utter lack of coordination have conjured a genuine grin to Shego's lips.
"So. You going to get me those co-ordinates, slick?" Shego asks, her voice a lilt higher than Ron's used to.
"Can I just plug them into your ship? Kind of eliminates the chance of me stumbling over the numbers and landing us in Barbados or something." Shego looks so at ease right now, like a weight has toppled from her shoulders or something. Ron would rather not risk irritating her with his voice. He also really, really hopes that he's remembered the co-ordinates right after all these years.
"Yeah. That'd be fine." Shego says, looking down at her control panel with slight reluctance. It's pristine, Ron notices.
"I cleaned my hands at the restaurant." He blurts out.
"Oh. Oh. Well done, Stoppable. You're a functional adult." Shego chides him. A mixture of relief and amusement wash over her face.
Things are calm for as long as it takes Ron to plug in the co-ordinates. After that, a savage smile carves its way onto Shego's face. Her eyes sparkle with devious glee and then they've careening into the clouds. They charge forward on the winds. With his knuckles bleached white, Ron clutches at his seat. Above the green canopy of trees, Shego laughs with the leftover madness of a villainess.