Unspoken Trust

Put this picture into your head.

Your sitting on a couch, the most comfortable couch you've ever set on, probably worn from years of use, and your in the arms of the one you love, hand slowly exploring the one doing the same to yours while you stare into his eyes, like you had done, hundreds . . . maybe even thousands times before, and yet, it feels like first time your seeing him. You've never looked at him this way before, and the saying 'a whole new light' suddenly makes since to you. He defiantly has a different sparkle in his eyes.

Or does he?

Has that sparkle been around for awhile, and you, in your self denial, just ignored it and played it off as friendly pride?

And if so, how long has that certain sparkle been there?

That, my friends, is what Miss Kimberly Ann Possible was thinking Saturday morning after her Prom, sitting on her favorite couch, holding her date's hand, staring into his eyes and still trying to get her mind around calling him her 'boyfriend'.

She had tried so long to convince herself and everyone around her that Ron was JUST a FRIEND. Period. End. Of. Story.

Lately though, she had noticed the trends in movies, and in the TV sitcoms Ron watches, and comics, and songs, that the best friends make the best lovers. Somewhere, down deep-she will always say later, she always knew that last night was going to happen. Whether it was at the Prom, or on a random mission, or both, it didn't matter. What did matter is that it was going to happen.

And, somewhere down deep, she liked the idea.

His hand fit, perfectly-he told her-like it always has. She smiled, and then he smiled, which made her smile grow--which in turn made his mouth copy her action, and so on and so forth. Until, at least, Ron noticed that her, what started out as genuine, smile had turned into the fake one she wears when she's at a pep-rally, doing formation two-eight-six.

Double back bend twist with a front flip with a twist into the cradle of six girls ready to hold her up.

But that did not matter to Ron. His eyebrows creased in with worry as he leaned his head forward. His only concern was his girlfriend.

He had to remind himself that his rejoicing on the subject 'Kim Possible now has the title of Girl Friend of Ronald Arnold Stoppable', was great, because, well, the statement in itself was self-explanatory in his opinion, now was not the time. Kim was using her fake smile. She hated doing the fake smile, because she hated formation two-eight-six.

She noticed his look, and rolled her eyes.

'No big,' her eyes told him. But he was Ron Stoppable, newly appointed boyfriend of Kim Possible. He was not going to fall for that one anymore. He leaned his head down, to force his eyes into her vision. He caught her eyes and asked with his eyebrows again, to which he got the same response.

He sighed deeply, and Kim let go of his hand and started over to the picture of them on the Tree House wall. He watched her go, sadly, and sat back.

If she wanted to tell him, and she thought it important enough, she'd tell him.

Ron watched as she fingered his seven-year-old chin in the picture, and moved to another, repeating the action. She was being sentimental again, he knew that look in her eyes, wishing for times when their biggest problems were Arnie and his crew, or when their biggest mission was Mrs. Kramer's twelve cats they took care of when she went off with her old friends on their monthly trips to Las Vegas. She turned to look back at him, her hair doing that curvy, flippy thing it does when she turns like that.

He loved it when her hair did that.

He patted the seat next to him, eyebrows raised again. She laughed and moved back to the couch. She settled back into his arms, her face, as well as the real smile that had returned, moving closer to his. Ron tensed, still not quite used to this part just yet, but relaxed when he realized that he now had the title of 'Ron Stoppable, boyfriend of Kimberly Ann Possible.'

When Kim finally pulled back, she was giggling, her face dusted with the lightest hint of pink. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes again.

Ron nodded, understanding her meaning, taking in a shaky breath. This was all really new to him, Kim had some experience, but, when it came to him, his experience in kissing was the equivalent to Drakken's experience having control over the entire world.

He's gotten really close, but Kim Possible just seemed to sneak into his lair—or in Ron's case—his mind, just the last second.

But he had a feeling Kim was in the same boat with him about the akwardness of it all. Less than twenty-four hours ago, all she would ever be to him was his best friend. Now here she was, all tangled up in his favorite jacket, and did he mention his arms? She had his jacket for years now. One cold night on the way back from one of their worst missions – the Heckler Triplets – it was raining, and Kim was shivering, and Ron decided to be a gentleman and give her his jacket.

Four years later, he still hadn't gotten it back.

But he sure liked it better on her.

But, before we get into too much back story on the clothing that Kim had picked out for her 'first date', let's get back to the subject—the akwardness of it all.

They had been best friends for over thirteen years. Over those years they drew a line that separated friendship, and what they are now. They didn't care about the Other side of the line for a few years. Then Ron just thought it was iky. Then Kim thought the thought of crossing it was stupid. Then Ron saw the Other side, and liked it . . . they treaded around it for awhile . . . sometimes teased, like your annoying brother does to get on your nerves.

'MOM! She touched my space!'

'Did NOT!'

'Yeah she did Mom. Total violation of space.'

'You're the one that violated my space!'








'Yes momma.'

And then you'd end up playing tag later.

They crossed the line once. Not on their own doing, but for Ron . . . he got a taste of the Other side, and had craved it ever since.

Kim? Oh, she knew about it. But, Kim, decided that the Other side was created by the stupid moodulator, and should act like didn't exist. But sure was fun to day dream about in study hall.

They had spent so long telling themselves that the Other side was forbidden, not allowed. Period. End. Of. Story.

Now, oh but now, they had crossed it, on their own doing, in reality, not one that was created by villain or study hall alike. They really decided to stare the line down and jump over it.

What scared them, is, they feel like they didn't just cross the line, but completely tore the line up in small tiny chunks and scattered them all over the Milky Way.

This phobia did not keep them from the recreational activities that teenagers their age like to participate in.

Just when Ron had got up his nerve to slip some tongue—


--Wade called.

Kim reluctantly pulled away from Ron, pushing herself off the couch and over to her pack. She answered, giving Wade an evil look that could rival Shego's.

"Yeah, Yeah, I know!" He said from the screen, holding up his hands in defense, "You're taking the day off because of your capture of Drakken last night. I KNOW! I do run your website, Kim. I read today's update.

Kim sighed.

Wade looked nervously at Kim and her look of death, and said as fast as his eleven-year-old mouth would let him, "IhaveamajoremergencyandIneedtotalktoRonbecausehecouldproblyhandlethisbetterthanyou.Ronnowpleaseandthankyou." He ducked from the screen like Kim was going to come and get him from four hundred miles away.

She nodded and gave the Kimunicator to Ron. Ron took it and put the ear piece in, just as Wade had instructed, and Wade began talking. Kim tried to read his lips, but Ron noticed and turned the screen away from her, his face taking on the same state of nervousment that resided on Wade's a few moments earlier.

What could Ron handle that she couldn't?

She started him down, starting at his eyes, his dark brown eyes. He may act naive, but he was far from it. He knew when to be serious, and when he needed to be, he ruled at it. Up on the Bueno Nacho headquarters tower and how he fought off Erik for so long . . . it amazed her. He had been shorter than her up until the summer before Junior year, now, he was a few inches above her. The right height. Guys like Brick were too tall for girls as short as she was. His blonde hair has always been the same bright burnt yellow she looked for at recess. His freckles covered his face, she didn't know he had so many freckles . . . she had never been that close to his face before last night . . . she loved his freckles. Even if he hated them.

His eyes turned to hers, staring her down, boring into her. His mouth started moving, and she became distracted, her eyes darting to his mouth. She never knew how wonderful his mouth truly is . . . next time his mouth is about to open and blow their cover on one of their mission's . . . she finally had a way to shut him up.

She smiled at the ways she could.

Then she heard a word that snapped her out of her day-dream and stuttered.

"W-what do you mean we're fired?"

I want to continue this . . . but not if no one is reading . . . and the only way I know that isif you press this little buttion

vherev I like one-word-ers!