Kids Inc | Kiss Me [5]: Argument

[luxken27fics]

Title: Kiss Me
Author: luxken27
Fandom: Kids Incorporated
Universe: Canon (Season 3+)
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Rating: T
Summary: Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss…and sometimes it means so much more. Seven pivotal moments that defined Stacy’s life and shaped her perceptions of love. A Valentine’s Day ficlet serial.

Author’s Note: Based on prompts chosen from challenge set one at 7snogs. Each ficlet can stand alone as well as be read into the context of a larger story.

DISCLAIMER: The Kids Incorporated concept, storyline, and characters are © 1984 – 1993 Thomas Lynch/Gary Biller/MGM Television/20th Century Fox Home Entertainment/Disney Channel. Any resemblance to any person currently living or deceased is unintended (aka, I am writing about the characters, not the actors who portray them). No money is being made from the creation of this material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Prompt #5: Argument
Word Count: 1,732
Universe: Season 5

~*~
Stacy knocked on the door of the apartment before taking a step back, readjusting her grip on the heavy cast iron Dutch oven she was carrying. The pot was still warm from that morning, it was nearly full, and she’d been carrying it for five blocks. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, she considered, waiting as patiently as she could for someone to answer, but the pots seem to get heavier and heavier…

Finally, mercifully, the door swung open, revealing a rather tall, thin woman with graying brown hair.

“Hi, Mrs. L— !” Stacy chirped in greeting, smiling happily as she lifted the pot.

“Why, Stacy, it’s lovely to see you, dear!” Ryan’s mother replied. Her own smile faltered slightly as she realized what her visitor was carrying. “You brought soup again! How…lovely.”

“Thanks,” Stacy beamed. “Is Ryan around?”

“Am I around?” echoed a voice, floating to their ears from further down the hallway. “I’m always around, thanks to this disgusting disease.”

Ryan’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Come on in, Stace,” she directed, opening the door a bit wider and holding out her hands for the Dutch oven. “Let me just take that from you. I’m sure my son is ready for some company other than mine.”

As if on cue, Ryan appeared from around the corner, looking grumpy and disheveled as he pulled his bathrobe tighter around his frame. His expression softened as he took in the welcome sight of his girlfriend, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he offered his hand to her. Stacy waited until his mother had disappeared into the kitchen before approaching him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

“Better,” he replied, the word reverberating through his body and into hers, filling her with delicious anticipation. He held her for a long moment, his eyes falling shut as he breathed in deeply, before pulling away. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He turned, taking her hand and leading her back down the hall. They had taken approximately five steps before his mother’s voice rang out, crystal clear even through the walls that separated them: “Keep your door open!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ryan muttered under his breath, pushing into the room that had been his prison for the last six weeks. “Like I even have the strength to try anything.”

Stacy followed, her happy expression faltering a bit as she entered the dark and gloomy space. Ryan released her hand, using what little energy he had left to crawl back into his bed, sitting up against the pillows. He looked absolutely terrible, thin and drawn, a pale shadow of the hale and healthy guy he had been only a few months before. Even the small act of bracing himself to sit up seemed to absolutely drain him; he lay back against the headboard, his shoulders sagging under the thin weight of his robe.

Stacy slipped her backpack from her shoulders as she carefully picked her way over to the bed, sinking into the mattress beside his feet. It was difficult to see him like this, but then, it hardly seemed fair that he’d been stricken with mononucleosis only a few months into their relationship. Some heretofore unknown nurturing instinct had been triggered in a big way, however, leading her to bring him soup every day for the last three weeks, as well as his homework, and notes from his friends and fellow bandmates. She’d even had the baseball team sign a huge get-well card for him, which had made for another…interesting trip from her apartment to his.

Just as she was getting settled, Ryan’s mother appeared, holding a tray laden with a bowl of soup, utensils, and a glass of water. She tut-tutted at her son as she crossed his disarrayed room, but she took her time arranging the tray and making sure he had everything he needed within arm’s reach. It warmed Stacy’s heart to see the two of them interacting, the love that flowed between them obvious, even if the patience was not.

Finally satisfied that he was okay for the moment, Ryan’s mother left the room, waving to the two of them and pulling his door partially closed behind herself. Stacy knew that his mother had transferred her job to their home, and she used Stacy’s visits with Ryan to get some work done. Their arrangement, although sometimes awkward, benefitted them all.

“So you brought more soup, eh?” Ryan mused, dutifully lifting his spoon to taste it.

“Of course,” Stacy replied breezily. “Anything I can do to help you feel better, I will!”

He chuckled between bites. “My family’s going to be eating soup for the next five years if you keep this up,” he teased.

She frowned. “I was only trying to help,” she murmured, crestfallen. Isn’t that something that good girlfriends did – make soup when their boyfriends were sick?

“I know,” he replied, “and it’s delicious, really…” His words trailed off as he searched for the right way to frame his next thought. “But you don’t have to bring it every time you come over. I’m only one person, and I can only each so much.”

Stacy shrugged, pulling textbooks out of her bag. “But I suppose you’ll still want me to bring your homework every time?” she remarked, not surprised in the least when he pushed aside his tray and made a lunge for the stack of papers she held.

“Yes, please,” he replied, perking up a bit as he looked over the work.

Stacy shook her head. “You’re the only person I know who actually looks forward to doing homework,” she observed, a tiny smile blossoming from the corners of her lips.

He gave her a wry look. “When all you have are these four walls to stare at, in the meanwhile? Homework starts looking amazing.” He shrugged, spreading the books and papers on his lap and over the sheets around him. “Besides, I love learning. I miss school, believe it or not.”

She nodded, putting her backpack down and resettling herself closer to him on the bed. “I can believe it,” she mused, reaching out to brush his hair from his brow. “I miss having you there…I miss seeing you, and spending time with you.”

He smiled, leaning back into his pillows, his arm closing around hers where she touched him. “I miss you, too,” he murmured with a sigh. “That just makes this even more frustrating to deal with.”

She gazed at him sympathetically, twining her fingers through his soft, dark hair, such an interesting contrast to his almost alabaster skin. He’d had terribly swollen glands for a couple of weeks, a rash similar to chicken pox covering most of his visible skin, and fevers that never seemed to break. Those had been the hardest three weeks of their short relationship, because she hadn’t been allowed to see him – he was still contagious. Now, the acute symptoms had cleared, and he was struggling through the hardest phase of the illness: weeks of crippling fatigue, as his immune system attempted reset itself. He’d lost some weight over the course of his illness, which had concerned his doctor, but in Stacy’s eyes, he was just as beautiful as he’d ever been.

He opened his eyes, their dark emerald depths luminous as they latched onto hers. “How’s the band?” he asked, extending his hand to lace his fingers through hers.

“They’re okay,” she informed him. “We’re doing the best we can without you.” It had been hard, as he was not only an integral singer, but also their lead guitarist, but they were doing what they could to cover in his absence.

“Hmm,” he mused, closing his hand around hers at his brow. “Say, wasn’t your driver’s test today? How’d that go?”

Stacy grinned. “I passed,” she said excitedly. “Can you believe it?!”

“Congratulations, Stace!” he replied happily, his hands shifting into her hair. “I guess the third time’s the charm?”

Stacy eagerly leaned over him, her eyes sliding shut as she closed the gap, only to feel him stay her at the last minute. “Stace, we shouldn’t,” he murmured regretfully.

She frowned as she sat up, her frustration momentarily getting the better of her. In an instant, she made her decision – she picked up the books and papers partially blocking her way, adding them to the pile on the other side of him, before sliding down beside him on top of the sheets and draping her arm across his chest.

“What are you doing?” he sputtered, struggling to sit up a bit higher against the headboard. He tossed a look across the room at his door, raking a hand through his hair in the process.

“I miss being close to you,” Stacy said simply, tightening her grip on his shoulder and pressing herself as close to him as she dared. He was cocooned in pajamas, a robe, and the bedsheets, his warmth enticing and inviting on such a dreary winter day.

Ryan relented as she curled into him, relaxing once more and wrapping his arm around her. She smiled softly, resting her forehead against his, watching as his eyelids fluttered shut when her fingers found the lines of his jaw. It had been so hard to keep her hands off of him while he was sick; now, even such a small indulgence of this silly desire filled her with exhilaration.

She might have thought him asleep as her fingers danced dangerously close to his mouth, but he grabbed her hand, staying with a knowing look.

“There’s a reason mono is called the kissing disease, Stacy,” he reminded her softly.

“I don’t care,” she declared petulantly, her eyes dropping to his mouth, the need to feel his lips against hers burning through her swiftly and suddenly. She’d tried to be patient, but it had been so long, and they were so close –

“I’d never forgive myself if you got sick,” he told her plaintively. “I wouldn’t wish this disease on my worst enemy, much less you.”

Her gaze met his for a single, piercing moment. “I’m willing to take that risk,” she replied recklessly, curling her hands into his hair. “Just one kiss…”

He smiled wolfishly, reaching up to cup her cheek. “Like we could ever stop with just one,” he replied, lowering her mouth to his.

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