Disclaimer: I own nothing of Kim Possible.

Part-Time Sidekicks

By: Imyoshi

Ditching the sidekick at first seemed like a good idea, and after a few minutes of alone time, Shego knew the idea had been a great idea. Nothing like peace and quiet to calm the nerves, let her properly think, and not punch the daylights out of the next schmuck who gave her a flirty wink or lame pickup line. Though the temptation got stronger each time they did.

Passing by small family stores that had an air of happiness and good fortune that made Shego want to gag, the female sidekick's footsteps pushed her to a quiet hole in the wall shop. She would've moved on, but the Earth green décor and name called out to some primitive part of her psyche.

Shego snorted at the name, "The Jasmine Dragon, huh?"

Her eyes traveled the jade dragon and eventually fell on the Help Wanted sign and she wished they hadn't. Now she's at least force to go in there and check the place out. See if it's a suitable and potential work environment.

How the mighty have fallen.

Fixing her scarf, she angrily walked through the door, immediately feeling an assault of pastry scented smells. She wanted to step out, but her hand remained frozen to the handle. The smell's neither bad nor overpowering, just everywhere—almost suffocating.

Not too impossible to work with.

Hating her life, Shego released her hold on the handle and walked deeper inside the shop, reaching the counter with no one available. She impatiently ringed the bell, waiting for whoever worked here to hurry the hell up as she leaned angrily on the counter. While she waited, she looked around, observing the inside décor.

Green lanterns hung from the ceiling and the tables matched alongside them. There was a second room that was blocked out by a green curtain, and dragon paintings littered the walls. A nice glow enchanted the room in an almost pleasant feeling, masked alongside the scent of those pastries she could smell. It was still early, so no customers littered the room, yet, but Shego had a feeling that The Jasmine Dragon was fairly popular.

Better be with a name like that.

Narrowing her eyes, she tapped the bell again, "Where the hell is this damn guy at?"

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Hey!" Shego stops the ringing to look over her shoulder. There she spots a man around Ron's age with a mop of jet black hair and amber colored eyes with part of his face scarred from a deep burn on the left side of his face. Compared to the green atmosphere, he wore a surprising amount of red and gold loose clothing that clashed with his green apron, "There's no reason to ring the bell so many times!"

Looks like he had a temper to boot?

Smirking, Shego accepted the false challenge, ringing the bell for her own twisted enjoyment, "But I like ringing the bell. It got you here, didn't it?"

Enjoying his glare, she matched his with her own, taking the time to study his square jaw and natural scowl. From the way his apron seemed to be tied around his body, this guy had a lean body frame, packing on some decent muscle.

Not bad. If this had been back in her world, she probably would've played around with him before she got bored. Alas, that was beyond her... physically speaking. Emotions, on the other hand, are a girl's best friend. And Shego just loves having friends over.

Hovering her palm over the instrument of his torture, he reached out, "Stop it! What do you want?!"

Tsk, tsk, "Is that anyway to talk to a potential customer?"

His hand instinctively flexed into a fist, and she enjoyed every second of it, "I said, what do you want?"

Ringing the bell once more to grate on his nerves, Shego saved him the suspense and lazily pointed at the Help Wanted sign on the shaded windows. Her smirk grew twice as large at his sudden gasp and growing scowl.

"Need a job," she expressed plainly. "Saw the sign. Thought, what the hell! Beats jumping out of cakes."

He growled that made her think cute, "Leave. Now. I would never hire someone like you. Someone without any honor."

"Honor?" Shego mocked, laughing evilly at his suspense. "What use would I have for something so useless?"

It's an intense stare down between two foes of strong wills, but Shego didn't bother ringing the bell to just lose and walk away with her tail between her legs. Never gonna happen. Not now. Not ever.

Leaning on the counter, Shego folded her hands neatly in her sweater, "Listen Sparky, I need a job, capisce? And judging off your girly green apron, you're not the head honcho here. Let me talk to your boss and no one gets hurt."

Narrowing his eyes, the man grabbed the knot of girly apron, slowly pulling the kitchen over his shoulder in a way that was supposed to be menacing to the sidekick. "Are you threatening me?"

"Oh look! It understands me." Shego's blood is boiling now. She didn't know why she antagonized the guy, but she needed this outlet. Powers or no powers, Shego has been itching for a fight since she stuck in this backwards world.

"Get out."

The words play on Shego tongue, deliciously so, "Make me."

Having enough of this rude guest, the man walks up to Shego ready to shove, push, or even carry her out. But as soon as he took one step, another, much older male sporting a bald spot with sideburns covered in gray hair and a belly fit for a happy king, stepped out of the curtain with a relax smile and cup of steaming tea. His eyes resembled the boy's, yet far gentler with years of wisdom behind them. And he quickly observed the situation and quietly guided over between the two volcanoes ready to burst with an air of calmness.

"Zuko," the older man chimed, offering him a large smile and giving away his name. "Who is our lovely guest?"

Shego's smirk grew at Zuko's stiffness, but the young man didn't let her get to him, "She is not guest, uncle. In fact, she was just about to leave."

"Oh, no," Shego waved. "I'm actually here about the job."

The uncle seemed to brighten up at the news, offering Shego a smile that made her not want to hurt the old man. Unlike his stubborn nephew, this guy had an air of control and power.

She could respect that.

"That's splendid news!" Uncle danced. "And just in the nick of time I might add! The morning rush is due for any minute!"

Zuko didn't seem to share in the same enthusiasm, "Uncle! You can't be serious! She's a charlatan! Just look at her!"

Charlatan! Her?

Shego will admit she's many things. A thief! A villain! A monster even! But she's not a fake. She's the real deal. The best of the best! Her pride will not allow for her honor to be tainted any further. Not by some guy in a frilly green apron.

Moving forward to teach this kid a lesson, Zuko glared at her advances, and against his uncle's wishes, balled his hands into fist.

Shego scowled at the hothead wearing a green apron in front of her, daring him to make a move as she cracked her fingers. All the while, his uncle moved between them to calm her down, offering her a cup of their special Jasmine tea to settle her nerves.

"I'm so sorry young lady for my nephew's rudeness. Please, can we not settle this over a cup of Jasmine tea?"

Normally Shego would've grabbed the steaming hot tea and used it as a weapon to blind her opponent, but the smell of it alone intoxicated the sidekick. It smelled heavenly and did in fact, calm her nerves. Enough at least not to break Zuko into three bite size pieces.

She swiped the drink and leaned back on the counter, "Give me that!"

Grinning largely now, the older man bowed to Shego, "Please forgive my nephew's rudeness. He can like a river at times. Calm one moment and fierce and unpredictable the next."

Shego almost snorted at the calm and zenny remark. The guy was like a walking volcano about ready to burst. She should know. She's like that almost all the time.

"So what you're saying there is... he's got a short temper," wasn't so much a question than a conformation. A second opinion only justified her observation. "That's good to know."

Zuko only scowled deeper at her, but Shego only smirked as she sipped her Jasmine tea, eyes playfully mocking. Uncle didn't seem to care, apparently stuck on easy mode like a broken arcade machine the cheap manager refused to throw out.

Clasping his hands, the older man grinned, "So... you're interested at working here?" she nods. "How does the position of waitress sound to you?"

Shego shrugged, "Beats grub work."

...

Wearing a short neon skirt that accentuated her long legs and a light green apron that tied neatly around her waist, Shego finished tying her hair into a tight ponytail. She left a single bang to hang over her forehead, down to halfway towards her nose. Her sharp eyes pierced the mirror in the bathroom and the reflection it held.

Admiring her new outfit in a mirror, Shego didn't need to admit she looked good. She already knew this waitress outfit made her looked good. Duh, doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell her that.

Grabbing her name tag from the sink, she wrote her name down for the annoying customers to know. A pointless endeavor since she never planned to learn their names, and could care less about it, but the old man she's come to learn is Iroh believed in pointless pleasantries.

Checking to make sure everything was in order; she stared hard at the mirror at her reflection one more time, still not believing the sitch she was in. A part-time job! Her! Thief extraordinaire! It's almost funny if it wasn't so damn bitter.

Whatever.

Stepping out the bathroom, she moves to greet the greedy customers, but she bumps into Zuko. They briefly glance at one another, and his eyes fall onto her name tag.

Smirk, "What type of name is Shego?"

Hmph, "What type of name is Zuko?"

Leaving Zuko behind to build more of a taunt, Shego steps into her new territory, scoping out her prey for the evening. Her trained eyes land on some male customers waiting by the corner of the establishment, and Shego doesn't bother faking a smile for them as she glides across towards them.

"Hello, may I take your order?" the words taste like acid in her mouth.

The trio of men leer at her without shame, trying to make their intentions known from the start. Shego pretends for a split second she knows what fear is. It's gone faster than that. And when one tries to grab her wrist, he's left shoved down onto the table before any of them could realize what had just happened in a painful vice grip.

Strength means nothing when trapped.

"Now, let's try this again," she says with the same level of passion. "May I take your order?"

Shego didn't know it until it was far too late, but her rude, stubborn, and quick to anger attitude will make her popular between the male and even female customers. The only reason she didn't walk out was because the tips were very generous and she'll be damned if she let Zuko have the last laugh.

...

Leaving Marty Mart with a party-size bag of chips and other discounted goods thanks to his new discount, Ron traveled back to the apartment with an hour to spare before meeting back up with Shego. His shift had ended hours ago, but James the Goth needed to show Ron the ropes to working at Marty Mart.

Though he did it with no passion and mostly let Ron figure out how to do each and everything. Yet Ron had appreciated the effort nonetheless, smiling his way through each and every exercise with renew vigor. James still hadn't showed any emotion, not like the sidekick expected him to.

He liked his new friend that way.

The manager was nice too, maybe lacking anything resembling a spine when it came to James, but nice.

Hitching the bad over his shoulder, Ron fixed his scarf as the cold air assaulted his nose. The sun had begun to set, and the sidekick wondered how Shego's first day at job hunting went. If she hadn't found some place to work yet, at least he did. No harm done.

The two sidekicks were a team.

Picking up the pace, Ron's eyes glazed over as he thought about home. He wondered what Kim was doing now. If she was looking for a way to bring Shego and him back or had already given up? A useless thought, Ron already knew KP wouldn't just give up.

She never did.

Reaching his weak sauce apartment, Ron passed by his landlord Nara, giving the man a simple wave that he returned slowly back. It's the thought that counts. Then he headed inside before the day's last rays of light washed away, allowing Ron some time to move the items he bought to their respected spaces. Toothbrushes bought on a two-for-one sale with his employee discount, toiletries, and essentially the works.

Ron's just about done sorting the rest of the items when Shego walks in with a bag of her own between the new outfits she's holding. A strong, delicious smell comes off from the bags, and Ron's mouth almost waters at the aroma.

"Oh?" Shego paused, relaxing her glare by a fraction. "You're home already. How'd it go, Stoppable? Find your own special corner of hell to call your own?"

He grinned proudly, "As a matter of fact, I did! You?"

Shego looked away, muttering lowly, "Unfortunately."

Not sensing any hostile coming from her, Ron went to the bathroom and came out with two toothbrushes, "I used some of the money to get us some toothbrushes and stuff. Don't worry, it was all on sale and I used my new employee discount. I got it for a steal."

"No," Shego argued, taking the obvious green toothbrush from his hands and then poking him it. "If you had gotten it for a steal, you wouldn't have wasted a penny. Don't lie to me, Stoppable. Stick to telling the truth, you're better at it."

He laughed anyways, pointing at the bag in her hands, "Is that what you did. Did you steal that, Shego?"

"And what if I did?" his smile dies and she rolls her eyes, "Geez, calm down, sidekick. No, I did not steal these. They were leftovers my new job was going to throw away, so I took them. It's not stealing if no one wants them."

His teasing grin is back, "So you got a job working as a waitress."

"Wha?!" Her glares returns stronger, "How did you figure that out?"

Ron waves his own toothbrush, returning the appliance back to the bathroom with his voice trailing off, "Well, I can't see you ever cooking, that's for sure. And you did bring back some pretty badical smelling food. I don't need to be a super genius to crack your secret."

Shego tossed her waitress outfit carelessly on the floor, "Well doy, you cracked the case. Want a medal?"

"That would be nice."

Feeling in a much better mood, Shego pressed the bag to his chest, "Well, whatever. I got dinner. Hope you like bread and tea."

Ron checked the contents, "What! No cheese?"

"Just eat it already!"

...

Peace filled the broken down apartment while the sidekicks slumbered. The sun's ray hardly filtered the room with a nasty glow and the air tasted alright. All was okay with the world. Until the blaring sound of music sounding like a cat scratching a chalk board woke Shego up in a deadly frenzy!

"What the hell is this garbage?!"

Ron cracks one eye open to see Shego smashing apart the new alarm clock he had just bought at Marty Mart. He almost wants to makes a joking remark on her disastrous bedhead, but wisely chooses his own life over morning banter. Still, the sight is both funny and disheartening.

Rolling up, he yawned, enjoying the last bits of the alarm's clock music before Shego finally broke the darn thing. "It's called Walking on Moonshine! It's a one-hit wonder! I think it's zesty."

Shego tossed the broken device into a nearby trash can, "I think its garbage."

Ron huffed, heading for the bathroom, "You just have no taste in music."

"Yea," cue eye rolling. "Yea, that's what it is. Let's just forget that it was a one-hit wonder for a reason."

She earns a sleepy grumble for an answer before the sidekick locks himself in the bathroom. The sleep is already long gone from her as that tone-deaf of a song robbed her of any wariness and supplied a morning workout. Didn't mean she was grateful, far from it.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she grumbled, "That's the last time I let you decide on an alarm clock."

No response.

Glaring at the bathroom door, Shego blew a stray strand of hair away from her nose and rolled off her cot. She sat up, doing a simple stretch routine to loosen any knots in her body before heading for the sink to splash some water in her face. When she's done, her hands remained gripped to the sink and she growls lowly.

Two months of this hellhole. Two months longer than she expected to be stuck here. What has their life come to? It had been tooth and nail until their first paycheck, but Ron's discounts and Shego's leftovers really paved the way to survival. Yet, the sidekicks have come no closer to reaching home. And she'll be damned before she accepts this sorry excuse of an apartment as their home.

Only a temporary base of operations—that's what she keeps telling herself.

Releasing her grip, she turned to observe their current lair. They've done decent for themselves these past couple of months. Paychecks and the occasional easy pickpocket from some poor unlucky sap really does help make the whole place more... livable. A couple of futons for sleeping on, a whatever brown table to eat on, a silver lamp that resided off to the far corner, more clothes, better food to be stored in the cupboards, necessities like a brush, and a mini fridge that Ron got off some special sale.

In all, it's so normal, and her eyes narrow dangerously at the thought.

Hate isn't strong enough of a word to express her feelings. She loathes being normal.

Humphing, Shego moves to slip out of her pajamas—a simple pair of black sweats and a loose light green tank top—and into a pair of onyx jeans and striped t-shirt with different shades of green. When she's done, she waits for Stoppable to finish so they could begin the day. Maybe stop by her place of work and torment Zuko and snag a free breakfast.

Closing her eyes, Shego thought about her plans for the day. Work wasn't until a an hour from now and she's already deathly bored. She really missed being a world-renowned thief. Lowering herself to petty pit pocketing has really robbed her of the thrill, the absolute exciting gut-wrenching feeling of being alive. Just the idea of being caught red-handed no longer sounds fun.

It's sad.

The bathroom door creaks open and out steps the sidekick wearing something akin to his past clothing. His black mission shirt remains as the base of most of his clothing, which he pulls off by buying multiple copies of said shirt. It's the little things he adds that gives him depth. Like sometimes a scarf. Other times a different pair of pants. Even a second shirt over his first. Stoppable's just random like that.

Today Ron's rocking just his mission outfit without the gloves or combat belt.

"About time," Shego huffed, tapping her foot impatiently on the dirty floor. "What were you doing in there? Giving yourself one of those cheesy self-help speeches?"

Ron grinned, "You're just jealous you can't wake up with a smile on your face."

Glaring away, Shego folded her arms in something akin to anger and fascination. Over the months, Ron's developed something of a backbone when facing Shego—a first for anyone except the Princess and her stupid brothers.

"How could I when you buy trash like that? Be lucky I haven't murdered you yet."

"Ah, I love you too, Shego!" Ron teased, unaffected by Shego's anger. To him now, she's just another Bonnie Rockwaller, only angrier and stronger.

It took a lot of willpower for the thief to stop herself from bashing the sidekick's skull in with the broken remains of the alarm clock, even more so to stop the muscles in her lips that threatened to twitch into an amusing smirk.

Ron Stoppable with a backbone wasn't so bad. She could almost call the sidekick a friend. Maybe if they hadn't met on the opposite sides of the tracks, they could've been... somewhere along down the line. But for now, they're both sidekicks trying to survive in a hostile world until they could find a way back home. Mutual interest, nothing more, nothing less.

Nudging her head towards the door, Shego began heading out, "C'mon. Let's go get some breakfast."

"The free kind?"

"What else kind of breakfast is there?"

...

Zuko grumbled, scowling at the two people occupying the table in the dead middle of his uncle's tea shop. One he had to deal with on a daily basis, but the other only came by for breakfast and the occasional dropping in to see when Shego would be done with her shift. Unlike her, Ron's not sarcastic or mean in anyway. He's more like an open book and a constant ball of sunshine.

But Zuko didn't like either of them.

Shego was sarcastic and downright cruel while Ron was kind and overly ecstatic all the time, no matter what people said to him. When it came to Shego, Zuko knew what he was getting himself into before the day even started. Stoppable on the other hand is an enigma. One second he's teasing him mercilessly and the next he's trying to lift his spirits.

It's a scary thought that these two were somehow friends.

How they'd met, he'll never know.

And yet, somehow, some damn way, they all became friends.

When he first met Ron, Zuko figured Ron Stoppable had a lot more honor than his counterpart just by his bright, open smile, and that was true. Teasing and joking aside, the man didn't have a bad bone in his body. He always offered a helping hand even though Zuko always turned him down, and his uncle positively enjoyed having Ron's—surprising skills in cooking—help in creating new tea recipes that sold like hotcakes. While their hotcakes sold like no tomorrow.

The only reason he turned down Iroh's offer to become their head and only chef was to keep working alongside his other friend back at Marty Mart who had picked him up when he had desperately needed help. It also might've had something to do with Shego as well. A wasted talent if Zuko ever saw one, but both him and uncle had understood completely.

But that didn't make him any less frustrating.

Walking over, he carried a tray of complimentary toasted bagels and cups of Jasmine tea. They didn't seem to notice him as they argued about something he knew little about and cared even less about. Even when he dropped the tray down onto the table, their eyes never wavered and their argument only got more heated.

"I'm telling you, Shego! Wrestling is real! Real I tell you," Ron defended his favorite past time. "How can you explain all those tickets they sell?"

"Uh, easy," she smirked. "They sell them to saps like you. Wrestling is fake, Stoppable. Fake! Get over it because it's true! Steel Toe is, and will always be, a faker."

Shego reached for a cup of tea and Ron's instantly on the offensive, "You take that back!"

Shego retorts with a slow sip of her tea. Her eyes gleam over the ridge of the cup, mockingly powerful and forever taunting, and Ron's not amused.

"Whatever," he relents and then checks the clock on the wall. "I better hurry or I'm going to be late—and we aren't through with this conversation yet," Ron grabbed a bagel and stuffed it between his teeth. He mumbled a halfhearted goodbye and ran out with a second bagel in hand.

Watching him leave, Shego silently lowered her drink and tossed Zuko a lazy glance, "We better get ready before the vultures start flocking in."

Zuko sighed, mentally preparing himself for said future vultures. They were relentless every morning with their coffee demands and coffee cake withdrawals. Almost to the point that made the young man want to quit, but he could never leave his uncle. That will never be an option for him.

Grabbing his own breakfast, Zuko didn't wordily give Shego a response. She accepted glares and pouts of indignant silence when she isn't the one who's angry. Words could easily set off the waitress's mood and Zuko preferred to avoid that, because against his uncle's wisdom of Shego being a fragile flower, Zuko knew better.

She had the eyes of an assailant.

The raven haired woman moved liked one. Talked liked one. Even fought like one whenever one of the customers got a little too frisky.

Fragile flower his ass.

The damn woman reminded him so much of his sister that he hated looking at her sometimes. Sarcastic, mean, deceitful, she even loved to push his buttons like his baby sister. And Zuko rather not think about any of his family other than his uncle. Family's too touchy of a subject for him and luckily Shego didn't ever seem to want to open up or talk about her own family. Which was perfectly fine by him. Made dealing with the fragile flower a lot easier to handle and a whole lot less mind numbing.

Shego tapped him in on the shoulder, pushing her empty cup into his hands, "Look alive, we've got customers."

Leaving him to grab her uniform, Zuko looked down at the empty tea cup and back at the increasing amount of patrons walking through the door. He placed the mug on the tray and hurried to get ready before the shop got too crowded.

A few minutes later, he's taking orders and Shego's just finished putting on her uniform when her first tasked is thrown at her. Table whatever needed their dumplings brought to them and had requested her over Zuko or Uncle Iroh. Not an uncommon episode in her life.

A lot of people requested she bring their food to them.

Never mattered to her in the long run, the tips more than made up for the inconvenience and she got to break a few bones here and there, she wasn't complaining for the excuse to cause pain.

Moving with a trained grace between tables, Shego reached table whatever and dropped the customer's tray down with little care, purposely forgetting to give them a smile.

"Here's your food. Try not to choke on it."

Bidding them a farewell with a scowl that melted their ice coffee, Shego slipped back into the kitchen to deliver the next set of orders. The food smelled great, the customers were plentiful, she had a great boss, and someone to torment. In all, Shego landed the jackpot when it came down to finding a part-time job.

So why did she feel so empty inside?

Feeling her fire reignited her soul, Shego frowned down at the tasty pastries being loaded into her new tray.

Maybe it was because this life she currently had right now might end up being her entire life from now on. And for the first time in years, she felt scared. The thought of forever being trapped in Yono or this world scared something weak inside her.

This life—these pastries were not the type of life she envisioned fulfilling. A life of crime and evil was her dream life. And she won't let herself forget that. Can't! It's the only hope she has left to hold on to. The only real reason worth waking up and dragging her body to this part-time damn job she despised more than the Princess. And that's not an easy task to fulfill.

Grabbing her new order, Shego's fingers dug into the metal tray as she forgo making any attempt of a smile while delivering the pastries to her next group of idiots. And as she dropped the tray for the simple minded peons, her eyes scanned the quaint, homey tea shop.

It would be so easy to fall into a false sense of security.

But she's Shego—thief extraordinaire that the sidekick so bluntly puts it.

She doesn't fall into security.

She avoids it.

...

Reaching the employee locker room with time to spare, Ron fished out his red vest from his locker and ran to his post. He slid on one foot on a turn and no one seemed to notice. Finally, the blond reached his spot with his new best friend, James the Goth, enjoying a smoke.

It's only more ironic with him smoking next to the Do Not Smoke sign, but the manager didn't seem to be putting his foot down, or anyone else for that matter.

Giving the Goth a smile, Ron waved easily, "Hey, James the Goth! Wonderful morning, isn't it?"

James fixed Ron an impassive stare and flicked the cigarette away in a random direction, "What is so wonderful about it? The heavily polluted air? The cries of children screaming in the morning begging not to go to an institution that is nothing more than a waste of time and resources meant to drain away creative thinking and individuality? Or is it society slowly conforming into a conundrum from the weight of its own ambitions?"

"Nope!" Ron handed James a bagel. "I got you a bagel from The Jasmine Dragon. Thought you might like it?"

No emotion flickered in his eyes, "Ah. I see."

"Excuse me!" Two sets of eyes blinked over to an overly boisterous woman who had a stack of clothes in her hands. "I would like to return these for cash back."

Betraying no emotion, James took the bagel and bit down and chewed slowly before swallowing and leveling with the woman. "I would ask if you can not see we are having a discussion, but then I would have to assume you are properly educated."

Based off her confused stature, Ron pegged James right again, "Huh?"

"My point exactly."

Huffing in confusion, the woman dropped the clothes onto James the Goth's workstation, standing her ground. It's a pointless effort, Ron's learned, when it comes to anyone dealing with James the Goth. No one ever gets their way with him. But it's damn fun to watch him break a person with his words alone.

"These clothes don't do it for me anymore," she argued, slapping down her receipt. "They've lost their appeal and I want my money back."

"That is not their fault," James informed without missing a beat. "There is no one to blame other than yourself for the mask you have created. Society has pressed you down until you can no longer bear to stare at yourself in the mirror every morning unless you are overly happy. But the sad truth is, you are not. You try to return these clothes because they no longer conceal the true sadness they once did and hope to regain that since of normalcy."

Taking the receipt, James handed it back to her, slowly taking a bite of the bagel and took his time to chew it. In the meantime, the woman looked ready to explode, but James beat her to the figurative punch.

"Giving you cash back so you can buy more clothes to hide behind will only hinder you further. Instead, I will give you store credit to bring back some meaningless purpose into the bleak thing you call a life."

"But I don't want store credit!" her cry falls on deaf ears.

"Then you should have thought of that before you shopped at a discount store," the woman seemed to lose all the fight in her eyes. "Here is a cigarette to validate your pointless existence."

She took it with shaky hands, "... Do you have a light?"

"No smoking in the store. Next."

...

After watching James destroy customer after customer while he diverted all their attention to newer and far more expensive models of the brands they were trying to return, Ron and James the Goth's shifts ended and the two punched in their time cards. So far in the past two months, Ron Stoppable hasn't even gotten a glimpse of James showing any sort of emotion. To anyone else, it would've unnerved them and pushed them away, but Ron liked James just the way he was.

Exiting the superstore, the duo leaves the sanctuary or their workplace and head towards anything remotely interesting to do. With Shego's shift not ending for another hour and James giving himself an early workday, Ron wanted to explore the town a bit and James had nothing better to do and simply tagged along.

"So how is that roommate of yours?" James doesn't ask questions for the sake of curiosity, only to fill the silence in the air.

"Same as always. Trying to find reasons to kill me," Ron joked. Slight anger creeps into his voice, "Can you believe she hated my Walking on Moonshine alarm clock?! I spent two whole dollars on that and she just broke it."

James the Goth can believe that. Calling the song an instrument of torture does not do it enough justice. No one ever returned that item because no one ever bought that item. It's amazing they even had any lying about after the total recall.

"Yes." James says with a flat voice.

"Whose side are you on?"

"I do not take sides," he answered logically. "I will not conform to the principle of choosing sides. Your taste in music just happens to leave a lot to be desired."

Ron stopped walking, crossing his arms in a stubborn way, "That sounds an awfully lot like you're taking her side."

James relaxes his posture, resting his hands in his pockets, and lets the words roll boringly off his tongue, "Walking on Moonshine?"

"It's a good song!" Ron grumbles at James's unresponsiveness. "What? What music do you listen to my emotionless companion."

A gust of wind passes by, "I do not listen to music. But even I know trash when I hear it."

"I hate you."

"If that was true, you would never have brought me that bagel."

...

Returning home after aimlessly exploring the city with his traitorous friend, Ron walked into the apartment with a slight kick to his step. On their fun little adventure, James and him had found a comic book store and Ron wanted so badly to buy some comics, but held off until his next paycheck. Couldn't just go around and blow cash away. Expenses had to be organized and shuffled around, a lesson the sidekicks had learned and mastered over the few months.

Closing the door behind him, he's greeted with the sight pf Shego sprawled on the floor with her head resting between her crossed arms. She had this set glare in place, and not one Ron was used to seeing. She was angry, but not just angry, but faintly sad as well. He would ask, but the sidekick knew Shego talking about her emotions or what was eating at her was a challenging task. One the sidekick did not feel like trying to overcome.

Instead, Ron sat down, leaning on the wall with one leg out and the other leg in, "Hey, Shego. How was your day?"

"Boring," she rolls on her back.

Ron waited for something that was never gonna come, "Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?"

Her backwards glare turns into a smirk, "And why would I do something as pointless as that? That would give you the false impression that I care."

Ron gave Shego the briefest of pauses before giving up on cracking her tough exterior. He's too excited for the comic book store to simply put in the effort.

Getting up, he went to the mini fridge and retrieved a can of Dr. Salt, gulping down the sugary beverage in haste. Shego watched him drowned the drink, hating the normalcy in the act.

"Slow down, Stoppable, it's not going anywhere."

He tapped his stomach when he finished, "Yes it is! It's moving into its new home in my stomach. Population: one can. And it ordered the express delivery."

"Gah!" she mocked, eyes gleaming. "I would hate to move there. I heard the air taste stale and neighborhood's gone to the dogs."

Ron tossed the can into the trash, pretending to have skills in sports, "You couldn't afford it, anyways."

Fighting off a smile, she forces an impassive frown. This light banter was nice of theirs, but Shego didn't like how relaxed they were getting around each other. For one, they were enemies, plain and simple. Two, when they return back to their own world, this was all gonna stop. And three, getting comfortable around each other lowers a person's guard.

And she's not worried about the sidekick stabbing her in the back per se. Lord knows he's had many opportunities when she slept. More because she didn't want him to hesitate to fight back when they did return home after this crazy sitch was done with.

Whatever.

She's in no mood to puzzle over this now.

Jumping up, Shego checked a crummy calendar Ron had bought from the superstore. The theme all over the calendar was cheese and many flavors of said cheese. Somehow it hadn't surprised her when he revealed it to her the day he bought it.

Checking the day, her shoulders sagged, "Grab your towel, Stoppable. It's bath night."

Officially dubbed bath night occurred three times a week to save money. Tears and Such did a special where couples got in for the price of one. It had been a simple plan. Lie their way in and then sneak by and use the respected bathhouse by pretending to be a couple. Hardly difficult at all for people of their expertise and background when it came to being sneaky, even with the damn handicap holding them back.

Ron held back some laughter, "You still don't like going to Tears and Such?"

Shego huffed, "No. I. Don't. That creepy receptionist is always trying to get us to rent a private bathhouse." She pouts her lip at the thought, "I don't trust those rubber ducks of hers. I think she secretly records people."

He grinned, packing up some clothes, "That's because we make such a convincing couple. She's jealous the Ronman's taken."

She rolled her eyes, poking him in the chest, "Yea, okay, because you're Mr. Casanova."

"I got you a ring!"

"Oh! Pardon me! How could I forget? I'm just jumping for joy at the cheap plastic ring you got me in one of those random gumball machines," she deadpanned, putting on said cheap piece of plastic because somehow the fake turquoise gem fooled people. "Words cannot begin to describe what I'm feeling."

"You could try," he offered.

Shego tapped him on the chest, smirking, "Don't push your luck."

Throwing his bag of clothes over his shoulder, Ron went and opened the door for Shego with a mock salute. She punched him in the shoulder and pushed him out first for being stupid again. Shego really hated all that chivalry nonsense. Chivalry died out for a reason.

Walking in a strained silence, they eventually reached Tears and Such—a bathhouse that had a the finer decor of bubbles and squishy ducks for a opening—and the evil sidekick grimaced at the sight of the receptionist waving away her last pair of customers away. When she spotted the two sidekicks, her smile grew three times as big and made the Princess's sidekick look relatively normal in comparison.

Her name was Nozoki and Shego didn't trust her.

She was a pale thing with a soft jawline and raven hair that stuck out in all places despite the ponytail holding back a good chunk of it. She wore bright clothes that hurt Shego's eyes. Her eyes were pitch brown with a light hue and she wore one of those large circular glasses. A thin body frame and short height made her appear soft and non-menacing, but Shego knew better. In a way, she's their landlord's exact opposite. Even to the point where as his emotions remained guarded, hers were on display on the threads of her sleeve.

"Hey guys!" she waves to them and Ron returns it. Shego does nothing, "Bath night?"

"You bet!" Ron answers the obvious question. "Show me those cute rubber ducks!"

Humming to herself as she begins to grab them towels, Shego narrowed her eyes at the small gleam in Nozoki's eyes, catching the hidden pervert inside the meek girl. Any second now and she'll ask if Ron and her want to share some private bathhouse.

"So," Nozoki smiled too innocently. "Is today the day you're gonna get your own private room or is it regular again?"

Like clockwork.

"Nah!" the sidekick answers for them, waving away the disappointing tension. "We're good. Regular please!"

Sighing to herself, Shego saw Nozoki's cheeks huffed in an irritated blush at her plan being foiled yet again. But Shego knew she'll keep trying. She's a lot like Dr. Drakken in that aspect. Never knows when to give up even with the odds never in her favor.

Ever.

"Here are your towels," the pervert grumbled, handing them their towels. "Have a merry wash."

They thank her in their own special way—Ron saying the Pumpkin's annoying please and thank you and Shego adding nothing as she swipes the towels off her perverted hands. And when they reach the couples' bathhouse, they stop to check if the coast is clear before sneaking off to their respected bathhouses. But not before Shego stops Ron and glares evilly at him in a worn out fashion.

"Remember, Stoppable. Don't let me catch you trying to steal a peek at me or I'll break that arm of yours."

Ron crosses his arms, "That goes double for you!"

"Don't flatter yourself, sidekick."

Author Notes: There will be some crossovers elements to fill the void of some characters. So expect some familiar names and faces here and there unless you live under a rock.