A/N: And it looks like we'll be dealing with a four-shot, instead. So yep, you've got one more part left after this and-I'm just kidding.

This is the final act, people. No need to worry. Your patience has been rewarded. Enjoy.

The next day…

"So, it was Lisa, huh?"

She should've figured that the four-year-old prodigy had something to do with that dropped call. She couldn't be too miffed at her (toddlers, even geniuses, struggled with the concept of restraint), but judging from Lincoln's current demeanor, a half-frown and an irritated tone expressing his frustration from the ordeal, she couldn't imagine that he felt the same way as her.

'Guess it makes sense,' Ronnie Anne thought as she waited for Lincoln to elaborate. 'I'd be ticked off if anything got in the way of my love confession.'

Not that she could relate to anything she had ever done…or thought about doing with anyone any time soon, especially with a certain white-haired boy. Nuh-uh. Deeeeefinitely not crossing that bridge.

"Yep," Lincoln said as he rested an arm on his desk and laid the side of his head against his open palm. "We just got our power back a few hours ago. Her new plug-in power generator knocked out the electricity in the entire neighborhood. Apparently, she just had to get her fully-automated robot lab assistant up and running when we were talking yesterday. Sorry I couldn't just reach you with my cellphone. I would've but mine was low on battery and my sisters needed theirs while we didn't have power; as you can probably guess, Lori was the first to use up all her cellphone's battery."

The quip only managed to get a tiny chuckle from Ronnie Anne. Not even involuntary reactions (well, besides her slightly rapid heartbeat and sweaty palms) seemed plausible when the pressure of such a bothersome predicament wasn't as out in the open as she thought it should be.

Why hadn't Lincoln said anything about…"it" yet? Did he have cold feet? Did he realize that his feelings weren't what they thought?

And more importantly, why did that possibility seem…a little disappointing?

"Hey, Lincoln?" Ronnie Anne asked, deciding to avoid venturing down that particular avenue of self-reflection.

"Yeah?"

"I remember you saying that you wanted to tell me something important yesterday. Remember?"

A grin, the first one he had had since their video chat had begun, spread across his face. Ronnie Anne told herself that those "butterflies in her belly" was just indigestion.

"I was about to get around to saying that, actually," Lincoln said before he cleared his throat, donning the same serious face he had on yesterday. "Well, like I said, I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but…"

Ronnie Anne's fingers curled into shaky fists. Her heartbeat only got that much faster as her "indigestion" panged through her gut and settled in her chest. 'This is it.'

"Ronnie Anne…"

She swallowed as she closed her eyes. 'Here it comes.'

"…I love your waffles."

Immediately, Ronnie Anne spluttered, coughing on the sharp, involuntary intake of air she just sucked in.

"You okay, Ronnie Anne?" Lincoln asked, quirking an eyebrow in confusion to the reaction.

Ronnie Anne just held a finger up while she coughed a few more times. Once she was finished, her hastily stammered, "E-excuse me?" felt revolting seconds after she said it; she did not need to sound desperate for a misunderstanding on what she clearly heard, especially when she was supposed to be thrilled at her own misinterpretation of Lincoln's cut-off message.

So, why in Sam Hill, wasn't she?!

"Your waffles," Lincoln said, leaning back in his chair and flashing a smile. "They're really good. Thanks for giving me the recipe. I can't imagine starting off my morning without a plate of that golden brown, fluffy goodness. You're a really awesome cook."

"So…" Ronnie Anne said, her umbrage not repressed enough to conceal the tiny cracks in her armor "…yesterday, you were going to tell me that you loved…my waffles?"

"Uh-huh," Lincoln said, none the wiser.

"I see."

…

…

…

"WAFFLES?!"

Lincoln yelped and flinched back from not only the spike in volume but from the seething glare and bared teeth from Ronnie Anne, who had her face closer to the screen—almost as if she was ready to pounce through the screen and start pummeling him into a pulp.

"YOU HAD ME FREAKED OUT OVER SOME STUPID WAFFLES?!"

"Ronnie Anne, calm down!" Lincoln cried, vaulting over his chair to take shelter behind it, all while shielding his face from plausibly imminent punches that were incapable of hurting him. "What're you talking ab-"

"SHUT IT, WAFFLEHEAD!"

A perplexed Lincoln instinctually grabbed his temples. "W-wafflehead?!"

His timid, startled reply got Ronnie Anne's temper to recede to a scant degree as her voice lowered, though still conveyed her anger loud and clear.

"That's right! Lincoln Loud and his dumb ol' waffles; nothing else matters, does it?! As long as you're stuffing your fat face with my waffles, everything's all hunky-dory in your world! Well, let me tell you something, you…y-you…"

She froze, feeling bile sloshing in her gut as her throat swelled. His fearful look, from behind his desk chair, haunted her, reminded her that her bid to save his friendship was probably all for naught because of her. 'Please, please, please tell me he doesn't hate me now.'

"Oh gosh, Lincoln, I'm…" she choked and clenched her eyes shut when the sting of tears burned her pupils. "…I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

It was a lie; she at least had an inkling of what came over her but even in the wrong, she'd rather pull out her teeth than endure the indignity of revealing the truth of the matter; both to Lincoln and to herself.

"Yeah, I'll say!" Lincoln cried exasperatedly as he sat back down on his chair. "Ronnie Anne, what the heck was all that about?!"

Her mind searched for the least embarrassing alternative possible but the unadulterated honesty was all that confronted her: "Hey, Lincoln. So yeah, get this, I thought that you were trying to tell me that you loved me yesterday, and I was freaking out about it because I totally don't feel that same way, right? Well, now that I know what you were really trying to tell me, instead of being happy, I'm kinda peeved about it and I don't want to know why! Why?! Because it might not have been what I wanted after all!"

Ronnie Anne opened her eyes to look at Lincoln. Fortunately, this action resulted in two comforting revelations:

One, tears didn't come falling out. She already looked pathetic enough without tears.

Two, despite having every right to be irate with her, Lincoln didn't look the least bit angry. Perturbed? Yes. Concerned? Definitely. But angry? No, and it was a testament to how forgiving and patient Lincoln could be with the people he cared about.

But even then, she wouldn't compensate his endurance with honesty. It was a hard pill to swallow, her selfishness, though the self-serving voice behind her Id told her that avoiding such awkward circumstances was worth his dissatisfaction.

"Look, can I not say it, please?" Ronnie Anne begged. "It was all a misunderstanding and I took it out on you. Can we both just agree that I was being a jerk and call it a day?"

Bated breath seized her lungs as Lincoln looked back at her pensively, his gaze not allowing her to look away.

"You know, if I wasn't such a marshmallow, I'd wouldn't let it go until you told me." The hardened look melted as his lips formed a soothing smile. "Basically, you're lucky I'm letting you off the hook."

She let out a breath and sighed. "Thanks, Lincoln. And again, I'm sorry about that rant. I'll explain everything one day, alright?"

Yeah, that "one day" would be when she was old, gray, and bedridden but she'd still do it.

"Deal," Lincoln said.

After this was all over, Ronnie Anne wouldn't have any other choice but to unravel her conflicted emotions after everything that had happened just now but there was still something that was eating at her; an itch that only Lincoln could scratch.

"But wait, why couldn't you tell me that you liked my waffles before now?"

Lincoln laughed forcibly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, even though I asked you for the recipe, I didn't give your waffles the appreciation it deserved. I was kind of afraid of telling you how I really felt about them because I thought you'd get on me for being mushy for complimenting your cooking."

A faint blush surged across his face as the corner of his mouth twitched in a shy grin. "And well, I also didn't want to come across like I was doting on you. I mean, you're a really cool friend and all but just a friend."

She swallowed down the pang of displeasure that comment brought, blaming it on mixed-up feelings that didn't need to be dug further than surface level…

Ugh, but not even that felt right on the money. What was this?

"In hindsight," Lincoln continued to say, "I really shouldn't have treated it like a big deal or anything, but I just wanted to set the record straight, y'know? And well, despite the…pretty big bump in the road just now, I'm glad I let you know."

"So that's it, huh?" Ronnie Anne asked, catching herself before she could allow despondency to bleed through her forced neutral tone. "You just wanted to tell me how good my waffles are?"

Lincoln nodded. "That's the long and short of it, yeah."

"Oh."

It felt right to sigh, so Ronnie Anne did. She felt like she just went through half a season's worth of Dream Boat drama in less than ten minutes.

On top of that, no matter how much she forced herself to try and celebrate what she was supposed to call a victory, she just couldn't do so without feeling insincere.

"Is something wrong, Ronnie Anne?" Lincoln asked as he noted Ronnie Anne's silence and introspection.

Her bowed head shot up. "Nothing. It's just…"

Just what? She was still trying to understand what "it" was supposed to be; what "it" should mean for her, what "it" should mean for Lincoln, and what "it" should mean for their friendship. How could she even hope to be in a position to help him know if she couldn't, or didn't, want to know?

But what was most certain, among all things, was the simple truth that made her smile unabashedly, cheesiness and all. "I really miss you, Lincoln."

A return of sentiments nor a shy recoil greeted Ronnie Anne's statement, much like she had expected (and hoped); a smirk laid his intentions bare.

"Now look who's being the marshmallow," Lincoln teased, wagging his eyebrows.

Ronnie Anne was besides herself, but she couldn't help but guffaw at his brazenness. Still, in the bantering department, he was but a fragile grasshopper that was getting too big for his britches.

She'd gladly show him up.

"Oh, shut up, Lame-O!" Ronnie Anne countered with a haughty smirk of her own. "At least I wasn't getting cold feet over waffles!"

She guffawed heartily when his face lit up like a Christmas tree, but felt even better with herself when he joined in.

'Way to take it in stride,' Ronnie Anne thought to herself as her peals of laughter continued.

But another reason spurred her merriment; she was secure in the knowledge that she wasn't about to lose Lincoln and through the uncertainty of her unnecessary dilemma, she hadn't lost herself in the maze.

From this one simple moment, clarity was achieved and certainty was obtained; she loved Lincoln as a friend…

…but she loved the idea of there being a chance for even more than that one day. And for whatever reason, whether it be hope or instinct guiding her optimism, she had a gut feeling that Lincoln felt the same way, too.

A/N: So yeah, like some of you probably guessed, this wasn't going to end the way you expected. Sorry about that, no lovey-dovey stuff in this Ronnie Anne/Lincoln story. :P

In all fairness, though, I think this is more down the line for what the "canon" would do, rather than my own interpretation on the matter.