Hold On to Me

One Week Later

Kim stared out the airplane window, watching the Louisiana landscape shrink beneath her as the plane ascended into the sky. The city that had become her temporary escape was now fading into the distance, swallowed by the clouds. New Orleans had served its purpose. Her last week was spent in the sun, hanging out with Monique, running through the winding paths of Audubon Park and the oak-lined trails of City Park. She had soaked up every ounce of freedom, every step hitting the pavement in a deliberate rhythm that steadied her restless mind. Running had always been her sanctuary—the one thing that could quiet her thoughts, even if just for a little while.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting the buckle of her seatbelt. She had wanted to text Shego all week. Had even unlocked her phone, clicked on the newly created contact, and hovered over the keyboard more times than she could count. But what was she supposed to say? “Hey, remember me? We played pool and drank before you drove off? What’s up with you?.” It felt ridiculous. So she left it alone. Left Shego alone. Or at least, she tried to.

The flight home felt both too short and too long. By the time they announced the descent into Middleton, Kim felt a mix of relief and nerves settle in her chest. Home. She had missed it more than she realized.

Her mother had insisted on a family dinner as soon as Kim mentioned she was coming back, and honestly, she was happy to accept. She had missed them—her dad’s absentminded mutterings about work, her mom’s knowing glances, her brothers’ endless chaos. There was comfort in routine, in familiarity. Even if it meant dodging the inevitable thousands of questions about her trip.

When she arrived at her house before dinner, she let out a deep sigh. Everything was exactly as she had left it. Clean, orderly, quiet. Starting tomorrow, she had one last day of true vacation before she was back to work, back to Wade’s inevitable updates, back to the usual grind.

The hot water cascaded over Kim’s shoulders, tracing rivulets down her back as she braced her hands against the cool tile. Steam curled around her, wrapping her in warmth, but it did nothing to settle the restlessness humming beneath her skin. She had been standing under the spray longer than she meant to, eyes fluttering shut as her mind wandered—no, as it drifted exactly where she knew it shouldn’t.

Shego.

Kim exhaled sharply, tilting her head back so the water ran down her throat, the warmth trickling to her chest. It was ridiculous how easily her thoughts spiraled back to her. A week had passed, and she still hadn’t texted. Frustration built in her throughout the week. She had no idea what to say, so she tried to stop thinking about Shego.

And yet, Shego lingered in the edges of her mind, slipping in at the quietest moments. The way she smirked, sharp and knowing. The heat in her eyes when their teasing stretched a little too far, when the tension between them balanced on the edge of something neither of them wanted to name. The way her voice dropped just slightly when she was amused, like she was letting Kim in on a secret no one else got to hear.

Kim shivered, and it had nothing to do with the water.

She pressed her forehead against the tile, biting her lip. What was she even doing? It wasn’t like anything had happened. They fought together, drank together, talked. That was it. But then there was the way Shego had looked at her before getting into that car, like she had been waiting for Kim to watch, expecting it, almost daring her to admit she didn’t want the night to end.

G-d.

Her fingers flexed against the cold wall, nails scraping lightly as a slow, frustrating heat pooled in her stomach. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like something unshakable was settling under her skin, something that wasn’t going to fade no matter how many times she told herself to let it go.

Kim sighed, forcing herself to stand upright, trying to shake the feeling off. She reached for her shampoo with steady hands, but her pulse betrayed her—still thrumming too fast, her breath just a little too shallow.

She wasn’t ready to feel all of this.

Not yet.

But she wanted to.

***

She wanted to know what it would be like—to touch Shego, to trace the lines of her sharp jaw, to feel the heat of her breath against her skin. Would Shego sigh into her mouth when they kissed, or would she bite at Kim’s lip, teasing, relentless?

Kim squeezed her eyes shut, fingers pausing in her hair as the thought sent a slow, deliberate heat curling in her stomach. Would Shego let her lead, let Kim press her against a wall, take control? Or would she laugh, low and knowing, flipping their positions effortlessly, pinning Kim beneath her like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Kim swallowed, the water hitting her collarbone, rolling down between her breasts, and suddenly, she was hyperaware of the sensation—of her own skin, of her own body responding to just the thought of Shego.

And what would she sound like? Kim thought. 

Would she be quiet, lips parted with soft, breathy sighs? Or would she be shameless, unrestrained, gasping out Kim’s name in that teasing drawl that drove her insane?

A sharp exhale slipped past Kim’s lips. Damn it. She really wanted it, wanted Shego. 

Kim ran her fingers through her hair, rinsing the suds away, but the heat inside her refused to fade. She wondered if Shego liked her hair tugged on, and then her imagination intensified. Closing her eyes, Kim let her mind go. Shego was between her legs, looking up at Kim, but Kim held Shego’s hair, bundled it in her hand, and pushed Shego back down. Kim imagined what it would feel like to have strong arms to keep her legs spread wide open. 

Fuck. Kim thought, finally opening her eyes and snapping out of it. 

Slowly, but definitely not hesitantly, Kim reached down her body to feel just how g-d damn wet she was, and shit. She was slick, her arousal covering her fingers. 

And that was just me thinking about her. Kim blew out a breath in an attempt to calm her body down. 

***

It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—no, it was deeper than that. The tension had always been there between them, even when they were fighting. The way Shego moved, the way she smirked like she always knew something Kim didn’t—it was their dynamic.

It had always been their dynamic.

But now? Now it Kim wanted more and Kim wasn’t sure how to handle it. She let her head fall forward, the water pounding against the back of her neck. Maybe she should just text Shego. Something casual. Something easy.

Yeah, right.

Like anything between us had ever been easy.

God, get a grip.

Kim groaned, leaning her forehead against the shower tile as the hot water bounced off her body. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. And now, she was running late.

Dinner was exactly what she expected—warm, loud, and full of barely contained chaos. Her father asked about her trip between bites of mashed potatoes, her mother watching her with that piercing look that said, I know there’s more to this story than you’re letting on.

Her brothers, naturally, couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes. But the moment they pulled up a video on their phone, they were suddenly statues. Grinning statues. 

“Wait, wait, wait—watch this part!” Jim—or maybe Tim—snickered, angling the screen toward the dinner table.

Kim barely had time to react before the footage played.

There was the bar, a man dodging a knocked over chair, the camera panned to Shego throwing a punch that sent some guy (Mark) sprawling. Then Kim heard her own voice, the crowd murmuring, and the camera man who said “holy shit that’s Kim Possible.” The video quality was shaky, the audio filled with shouting, but this picture was clear as day: Kim and Shego, face to face in the middle of an all-out brawl. 

Kim blinked. Her body still, fork and knife in her hand. She hadn’t even realized a video existed. But of course her brothers would find it.

Her parents’ eyes were immediately on her.

“So,” her mother started, “do you want to explain what exactly we’re looking at?”

Kim sighed, setting down her utensils. “I-uh- heard a fight happening, and I stepped in to help. That’s it. It wasn’t a mission or anything, I really was on vacation.”

“And what? Shego just happened to be there?” her dad asked skeptically.

Kim nodded. “Yeah. We didn’t fight or anything. Just…kinda ran into each other.” She continued, “Shego started the fight, and I put a stop to it. I didn’t know she was going to be in New Orleans, I swear.” 

Her parents exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Kim thought they might press further. But in the end, they seemed satisfied enough. Well, her dad was, at least. Her mom still looked like she had a few theories brewing. Her brothers were still watching the video, the beginning of it of course, the parts where Shego was beating the crap out of Mark. Kim reached out and snatched the phone as soon as the dweebs started to re-watch it again. That’s the end of that. Kim thought. 

The rest of the evening passed without incident. They watched a movie as a family—something old and familiar—and Kim felt herself fully relax. Her brothers didn’t make it through the whole movie. Around the first half of the movie, they announced they were bored and going to their room. Kim agreed, though; this movie was very slow, and the plot had inconsistencies.  

Exactly 1 hour later..

Kim turned off the TV and threw a blanket over her sleeping parents. Kim knew they wouldn’t make it through the whole film, but she appreciated that they tried. She decided she wouldn’t wake them until she was just about to leave; they looked so peaceful sleeping. Before she left, she did what any adult child does when visiting their parents: raided the kitchen.

A few bananas, some cheese, grapes, and the nearly expired Capri Sun box sitting in the back of the fridge. A successful grocery haul. Of course Kim woke them up to say goodbye and thank you. 

As she walked out to her car, her phone buzzed in her pocket. For a split second, her heart leapt, hoping—expecting?—to see Shego’s name. Now that was incredibly stupid Kim thought to herself. Shego did even have her number. 

Turns out it was just Wade.

She sighed, shoving her phone back in her pocket. She could think about work tomorrow. She could think about everything tomorrow.

For now, she just wanted to drive home, fall into bed, and try—not very successfully—to stop thinking about Shego.

Kim woke up to golden morning light filtering through her curtains, casting soft, lazy stripes across her bed. The air was crisp from the open window she had forgotten to close last night, and for a few blissful seconds, she just lay there, tangled in warm blankets, eyes half-lidded as she let herself wake up slowly. No alarms, no urgent missions—just the quiet hum of a new day.

She stretched with a satisfied groan, then rolled out of bed, feet hitting her fluffy carpet and then the cool hardwood floor. The scent of home, her home, lingered in the air—clean laundry, faint lavender scent from a candle she never remembered lighting, and something undeniably her.

Breakfast. That was the next step.

Padding into the kitchen, she bypassed the waffle iron sitting on the counter. Waffles—her all-time favorite—were too much effort today. Instead, she went for her second-favorite breakfast: oatmeal. Quick, easy, and the perfect excuse to throw in whatever she had in the house.

She dropped a handful of raisins and sliced up one of the bananas she’d stolen from her parents’ kitchen last night. A dash of cinnamon, a sprinkle of sugar, and, of course, a generous handful of chocolate chips. Then, for good measure, another few on top. Because, honestly, what was the point of oatmeal without a little indulgence?

With her bowl in hand, Kim curled up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her, a big cloth napkin draped over her lap. She knew herself—she was a messy eater, and hot oatmeal on bare skin? Not an experience she was eager to repeat.

Grabbing the remote, she flicked the TV on and put on an episode of Psych.

Ron had been relentless about this show, pestering her to watch it for years. Back then, she always said she’d get around to it. But she never did. It wasn’t until after their breakup, when things still felt a little raw, that she finally gave in and pressed play. Maybe, at the time, it was just an excuse to hold onto something of him. A reminder of all their years together.

Now? Now, it was just a damn good show. And the thought of Ron didn’t sting anymore. He was still out there being Ron—somewhere halfway across the world, probably covered in flour, learning from some Michelin-starred chef. He was happy. She was happy.

With only a couple of spoonfuls left in the bowl, Kim took a slow bite of her oatmeal, really letting the warmth seep through her as Shawn and Gus bickered on-screen. 

Then, she thought about Shego.

And just like that, the spoon paused halfway to her mouth.

Fucking hell. Even Psych isn’t a distraction. I’m so fucked. 

Whenever Kim hovered over the keyboard, debating what to say, nothing felt right.

Until now.

She smirked as she scrolled on her phone, opening the video, and clicking ‘share’. The bar fight. The one she hadn’t even realized was recorded until last night when her brothers shoved a phone in her face, howling with laughter.

She clicked ‘send’ and followed it with a text:

    This you?

The second her thumb hit send, she was up and out.

No waiting. No overanalyzing. She didn’t want to sit around staring at her phone, second-guessing whether or not she should’ve sent the text. She needed to move.

Within minutes, she was outside, sneakers hitting pavement, body falling into an easy rhythm as she ran. The morning air was still cool, but she could already feel the heat of the day pressing in, thick with the promise of summer. She pushed forward, focusing on her breath, the stretch of her muscles, the steady beat of her feet against the ground.

For once, she wasn’t running to clear her mind. She was running to avoid checking her phone.

By the time she got back, sweat clinging to her skin, lungs burning in that satisfying way, she grabbed her phone, expecting—

Nothing.

No response.

Kim frowned, tossing her phone onto the couch before heading straight for the shower. The hot water worked wonders on her sore muscles, but even as she let it soothe her, she kept thinking. Wondering.

Shego had seen the text by now, right?

Maybe she was just ignoring it.

Maybe she didn’t know what to say either.

Or maybe—Kim shook her head. Nope. Not doing this.

She stepped out, dried off, and checked her phone again.

Still nothing.

With an irritated sigh, she fired off another text—this one to Wade.

    I'm ready. What do you have?"

The reply came almost instantly. And Kim was so thankful that Wade could read the room. She didn’t want to chit chat, she wanted to know what she missed. Kim was ready to work. 

     Drakken had a meeting. Nothing suspicious yet. But you’ll want to hear this 

Kim arched a brow.

     Go on 

Wade didn’t waste time. Kim picked up the call and cast the Facetime to her TV. There was Wade, literally looking down at her. She really missed this. 

"There’s a shipment coming in. Big one. A serum that’s been circulating in Eastern Europe and Asia—especially Russia. It’s called ‘Haze’, but sometimes it’s referred to as ‘False Mirage’. Well, actually, Haze makes more sense since in Russian, it's called туман (Tuman), which means fog or mist. It alters brain chemistry. Works like a mind-control drug, but temporary. You need regular injections to maintain control."

Kim’s mind was racing now.

"So, like a truth serum?"

"Yeah, but more intense. People lose all bodily autonomy, but part of them is still there. Whoever’s using it? They’re not looking to build an army. Not yet, anyway. But they are looking to control people on a large scale. Question is… why?"

Kim exhaled, running a hand through her damp hair. This was bigger than the usual small-time villain operation. If shipments were coming here now, things were escalating.

"Do we have an antidote?"

"Not yet. Not even sure if one exists. But right now, the effects don’t last long. The real problem is the scale of this shipment. Whoever’s behind this? They’re planning something big."

Kim nodded, already shifting into mission mode.

"I’ll follow the shipment. I won’t interfere until we know more. But we need answers, Wade. Fast."

"On it. I’ll keep you updated on the time and place. " Wade finished typing. 

“Sounds good, thanks.” Kim didn’t end the conversation though, “Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll let you know what happened on my vacay eventually. I just want to- I dunno. I guess I want to distract myself right now.” 

Wade nodded and smiled gently. “Take your time; I’ll be here whenever you need me.” 

“You’re the best. Thanks, Wade.” 

“Don’t thank me yet. I have a bunch of questions to ask when the time comes.” 

Kim laughed. “Of course you saw the video. I should have known better.” 

Wade made a ‘come on man, it's me’ gesture with his arms open and his head bowing a bit. “So, we’ll talk later?” 

“Yeah, talk later.” Kim echoed. 

“See ya”

“Bye!”

Kim ended the call, her fingers drumming against her thigh as she stared at her phone.

Still, there was nothing from Shego.

Fine. She could wait.

She had bigger things to deal with.

For now.