Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[Davina]

oooh.... mysterious strangers... up to some form of no good.. but maybe not as much no good as it sounds? or maybe worse... hrm...

thanks for the update! it's been ages and i've missed new chapters to your stories

 

[Alpha Centauri]

Great chapter! I can't wait for more!

 

[Muppetfan44]

Loved the update! Can't wait until the next one. Keep up the amazing work as always!

 

[TogetherAgain]

<double take> What is this? What is THIS? How did I miss--wait, don't answer that. I know exactly how I missed. But OOH!

Favorite bits: Rowlf's chat with Kermit, Rizzo's scene with Gonzo, Brenda's incredible article, and the turkeys reacting to Camilla.

Meanwhile, GAH! Anxiety! WHO is trying to do WHAT to the frog and pig? Also, WHY? And how, and where, but mostly the who, what, and why. Oooh, I GROWL at them. Narrowed eyes and all.

Did I mention that I love mellow Floyd holding the door?

There is just SO much to love in each and every one of your chapters... It's good to see you again, Ru.

And I love the Kermit/Rowlf chat so much that I just had to mention it again. The distracted frog at the beginning, and then the entire content of the actual conversation... I love it so very much.

Anyway, enough of my blathering. I have textbooks to return and reflections to write, and then I'm DONE with the semester and I can sit back, relax, scrub the apartment... and who knows, maybe even do a little writing of my own, and catch up on some tales (tails?) here at MC.

MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (Goodness, it's been too long since I've nagged...)

 

[Muppetfan44]

I couldn't agree more with TogetherAgain! I should have mentioned it before but the whole conversation with Rowlf and Kermit was absolutely wonderful and I cannot wait to see what comes from it!

Wonderful as always and I love reading it over and over again!

Can't wait to see what happens next!

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 68: Dance of Love

“And that,” said Kermit firmly, holding up an unraveled French horn, “is why no one should hide anything else in the music room. Everyone got it?
The crowd nodded sheepishly, murmuring. It had been a longer than usual meeting and everyone was a little antsy.
Kermit looked at his PDA, pushed a button, frowned, pushed a couple of other buttons and scrolled down. Scooter and Piggy exchanged bemused looks, then Scooter leaned over and whispered in Sara’s ear. Her eyes brightened and she nodded and giggled. “Thought I had another reminder note,” Kermit muttered. He evidently did not find what he was looking for and gave up searching for it.
“Anything else?” he asked, looking up.
“What about the party?” chorused the chorus girls.
“Yeah, like, when are we decorating the tree?” rasped Floyd.
“Party!” Animal cried. “PAR-TEE! PAR-TEE!” he panted, straining at his leash.
Dr. Teeth flipped him a Scooby Snack, which Animal swallowed whole. Zoot pulled a foot-long licorice whip and tossed it to Animal. The frenetic drummer stuffed the entire thing into his mouth and chewed contentedly.
“Oh! Oh—right! Our Christmas party!” Kermit clasped his hands together, looking cheerful and expectant. “The Palace has very graciously allowed us the run of this theater, but we’ve got shows to do that day as well. Instead of trying to put the party away, we’re—that is, um, Piggy and I, are going to host it in our, um suite.” They had talked it over last night, deciding that having Santa visit and leave presents there for Robin, rather than have to truck everything up the elevators, was more practical.
“That’s very…nice,” Fozzie said.
“That’s so…brave,” said Rowlf.
“That way,” continued Kermit. “We can start celebrating in the morning, break for the matinee and then have the rest of the afternoon to eat and give gifts and, um…stuff.”
“What about food? Should we bring chips and stuff?”
Kermit smiled. Back in their early days, they had had some amazingly, er, inexpensive parties, with everybody chipping in whatever they liked to nosh. He was glad now to be the founder of the feast—and also to avoid some of the dishes that had been brought to those parties. “No,” Kermit said. “You don’t need to potluck. We’re got it covered.” A cheer went up. “Mabel is catering (A louder cheer) and the studio is paying the tab. Okay, then. Having said that,” he continued, “what’s the word on a tree?”
“Gotcha covered,” Rizzo said. “I got a first-class aluminum tree.”
“Rowlfie found a real one,” said Foo Foo.
Pepe snickered at “Rowlfie” but Foo Foo bared her sharp little teeth and growled at him until he subsided. The little white dog grinned wolfishly at one of the Elvi. She had no idea if it were Ace, Deuce or Trey.
“Mee Mee Mee Meep,” said Beaker. Dr. Honeydew beamed. Scooter flipped hastily through his Guinea pig-to-English dictionary for a moment.
“They’re, um, growing one,” he said finally. His brow furrowed in consternation. “Um, the party’s coming up next—“
“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Honeydew complacently. “That’s the wonder of mutagenics.”
Piggy was beside Kermit now, holding his hand. “That tree stays in the hall,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Wow—three trees! That’s super, guys. Oh, and we need to think about decorations, too.”
“I’m making some,” piped Robin. At last count, Robin’s construction paper chain would have encircled the casino.
“That’s terrific,” said his uncle fondly. He then cleared his throat a little nervously. “Um, if your present is wrapped and labeled, you can start bringing them here and putting them in these boxes. Sweetums and some of the others are gonna help cart ‘em up to our room.” There was a flutter of excitement at the mention of presents. “And, um, Christmas bonuses will be given out Christmas eve.”
“Oh, like, wow!” said Janice. “That will really help the last-minute shoppers!”
“Wow is right,” muttered Scooter. “Kermit insisted on out-doing last year’s bonus.”
“How much is ‘wow’?” Sara quipped.
Scooter grinned and gave the scripted response. “Somewhere between ouch and boing.”
“I love White Christmas,” said Fozzie.
“Hi love bonuses, hokay?” said Pepe.
“And I love Mon Capitan for being so sweet!” Piggy gave him a resounding smooch on his cheek and he blushed.
“Now we’re done?” he asked Scooter.
“Now we’re done!” his assistant agreed.
“Okay—meeting over. Everybody scram until rehearsal.”
He turned to Piggy immediately. “Howard wanted to ask you something.”
‘Oh,” she said, surprised. She’d spoken to him twice that morning and he hadn’t mentioned anything. She shrugged her shoulders, tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and went to find him.
The second she was out of earshot, Kermit hot-footed it over to Thoreau and touched his immaculate sleeve.
“Hey Thoreau,” said Kermit furtively. “I need your help with something.”

Piggy presented herself to Howard in the small kitchen. He was pouring a cup of coffee and guiltily adding a dollop of eggnog.
“Moi is here!” she announced.
Howard smiled and offered her the mug. She hesitated, visibly tempted but obviously resistant.
“It’s made with skim milk and egg-free egg product,” he wheedled. Piggy accepted the mug, tasted it, and added two sweeteners.
“Not bad,” she conceded. “What do you want, Howard dear?”
“Not much,” he said, leaning back against the counter. “The respect of my peers, a little professional recognition and a pair of chinos that don’t make my butt look big. What about you?”
Piggy stared, feeling somewhat befuddled. “Howard, do you need me?”
“But of course I do,” he said instantly. He took a sip of his own coffee eggnog and smiled.
Piggy felt like stamping her perfectly shod foot. “What for?” she demanded.
“I need you to hit your marks and try not to fluster your dance partner so much that he—“
“Howard.” Piggy silenced him with a look and a gesture. “Did you tell Kermit you needed to see me?”
“What? Now? Nooo….” They stared at each other, then the chorographer let out a hoot. “Your frog is losing it!” he chortled.
Piggy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Directors!” she said, and stalked off.

“Like this?” Fozzie asked. He put the two ends of the construction paper strip together around the end of the chain and held them.
Robin studied it critically. “That’s right, Fozzie,” the little frog said. “Now you tape the ends together and—“ He illustrated, closing the colorful circle with a strip of cellophane tape. “—there!” He held up the chain for inspection and Fozzie said, “Ow.” A few strands of soft brown fur had pulled free.
“Sorry, Fozzie,” chirped Robin, then his smile grew impish. “I don’t think that’s what they meant when they said you should get into decorating for Christmas.”
“Wha hah hah!” Fozzie said. “Good one.” He looked at the heaps of paper chain draped over the couch. “Are we almost done?”
“Almost,” said Robin. “I’m about to be out of construction paper.”
Fozzie wondered idly if Las Vegas was out of construction paper.
“Whatcha doing?” said a gravelly voice. Gonzo peaked over the back of the couch, holding a big box of present in his hands.
“Making a paper chain.”
“Decorating for Christmas.”
“You say tomato, I say to-mah-to,” Gonzo murmured. “Can I try?”
“Sure,” said Robin. He handed Gonzo a stack of strips to connect. The furry blue weirdo seated himself on the floor. This time, blue fur stuck to the tape.
“Neat,” said Gonzo.

“What is taking so long?” sputtered Scribbler’s boss, but before a head of steam developed Scribbler interrupted.
“Cool your jets,” he said sharply. “I got inside today.”
There was a gasp of surprise,” quickly covered.
“Inside inside?”
“Yep.”
“What—what did you hear? Please tell me you heard Piggy plotting to run off with the mailman. Now that’s a story I’d like to print.”
“No such luck,” said Scribbler, thinking How about Piggy runs off with the reporter? “But I did get the skinny or their Christmas plans. Oh, and I got a look at their new number today.”
“The Island one or the Love Dance one?”
“Dance of Love,” he said. “It was…it was pretty amazing.” He thought about describing how the dancers had seemed to float on the music itself, how the partners had moved like two halves of one whole. He abandoned all thought of trying to describe art to his boss.
“Any pictures?”
“No—couldn’t chance it.”
“But they didn’t suspect? Nobody saw you behind—“
“Nobody,” he said firmly hoping it was true.
“Is Kermit actually in this number?”
“Yes,” said Scribbler slowly, remembering the way he and Piggy had laughed when they’d messed up Howard’s complicated arm movements and gotten tangled up—literally—in each other’s arms. “He’s dancing with P—um, with her.”
“Of course.” There was a muttered oath. “If only I could figure out a way to break one of those skinny little legs of his. Push him down the stairs or something. Then he’d have to sit on the sidelines and squirm while little Miss Priss dances with somebody else.”
Scribbler had not like having his personal life dug around in, but he wondered again at the root of this dislike for the mostly mild-mannered amphibian. His animosity, or course, had a perfectly obvious and rational cause. Anyone could understand why Kermit had shattered all his dreams, but what dreams had Kermit destroyed for the one Scribbler answered to? He was a reporter, after all. He could ferret out the cause of the hatred, but he had learned the hard way that there were spying eyes everywhere. Including his.
“Scribbler, you imbecile! Are you listening?”
“Huh? I mean, yes, of course I’m listening. Could you repeat that one more—“
“What a waste of ink you are! I have half a mind—“
“That’s certainly true,” Scribbler muttered mutinously.
“What did you say?”
“I was agreeing with you.”
“Not a bad plan,” said his employer darkly. “Keep me posted.”
There was a sound like a palm slapping a table top. “I hate not being on the scene! If that stupid gopher hadn’t gone poking around in the registration records—“
Once again, Scribbler headed off a diatribe. “Don’t sweat it, boss,” he said quickly. “I’m on it.”
“You’d better be. And I want to be the first one with pictures!”

Autumn gazed up at Ed fondly and dabbed a little more sunscreen on his forehead. “There,” she said, satisfied at last. “That should keep you from toasting.”
“Or just broil me evenly all over,” he said dryly. They were dressed for walking, or strolling, as Autumn like to call it. Today, they would be strolling the strip, doing silly, touristy things and enjoying her reprieve from the demands of work. They’d catch lunch where they might, then Ed had a fun and silly surprise for her. It had been hard to finagle tickets, but he could just imagine her delight and pleasure. Autumn was very good at expressing both, as he had good reason to know.
“No broiling,” Autumn insisted. She handed him a dapper straw hat. He felt he shape of it, approving her choice. She put on a straw sun hat of her own and added dark glasses. In her line of work, camouflage was never a bad idea but hiding in plain sight was something she was good at. Hiding her identity, however, didn’t mean hiding all of her. When Ed put a hand on her back, he touched warm skin. In broiling weather, a halter dress, sandals and the aforementioned accoutrements would help her blend in with everyone else. The thought made Ed smile. Autumn would never be like everyone else. Autumn would always be in a class by herself.

“That’s the best I can do,’ said Thoreau. “And that’s saying something, if I do say so myself.”
“It’s terrific,” said the tuxedo-clad amphibian. “Thanks for your help.”
“Don’t worry,” said the dressmaker airily. “I’ll add it to your tab.”
Kermit grinned. Even mention of his tab wouldn’t dampen his mood today.

“You are, like, so totally smooth,” giggled Janice, her hands on Floyd’s shoulders. “Even Howard will think so!”
Floyd grinned, making his bushy red mustache turn up at the ends. “Hope so,” he said fervently. During this morning’s practice, he had tried to fly beneath the radar, hoping not to attract unwelcome attention to his less-than-stellar footwork. Janice’s sublime moves had sortof evened things out in his opinion, but he was not sure the Muppet chorographer would agree.
“Let’s do that turn thing one more time,” he cajoled. “I want to get it right all the way thru.”
This morning’s practice had netted results, but they were still polishing. After demonstrating, Howard had wisely left the paired dancers to work out some of the more obvious kinks and gone to get a bottle of spring water.
Ironically, Floyd and Janice had had no trouble with the complicated arm movements. Kermit and Piggy had tangled themselves up into an exasperated although not completely un-enjoyable knot, and Scooter had approached it like a man approaching a guillotine. Janice and Floyd had taken to it like ducks to water.
“It’s just like disco,” Floyd had explained to a befuddled Rowlf.
] “Oh, that helps,” the canine muttered, but Foo Foo had looked thoughtful. She had put her paws on the big brown dog’s shoulders and laughed.
“C’mon, Rowlf,” she said. “I know just the ticket.” Apparently, she did, because Floyd looked over a few minutes later and saw them later flipping back, forth, around and over with ease.
“I thought you hated disco,” panted Rizzo on a pass by with Amy Lu.
“Nah,” said Floyd. “It’s got a good beat.”
Sara had been watching Floyd and Janice, and when Foo Foo and her willing if not naturally graceful partner began to show them up, she dragged Scooter over to demand the secret.
“You’ve got to let the man do the leading,” said Foo Foo frankly.
“Yeah—that’s why we weren’t getting it at first,” said Rowlf. Foo turned and bared her teeth at him ferociously and he subsided, grinning.
Foo Foo sighed dramatically. “Oh, he’s right, thought,” she admitted finally. “This only works if one of you is calling the shots, and in this dance it has to be the man.”
Sara looked at Scooter guiltily. “Have I been trying to lead?” she asked, mortified.
“Well,” said Scooter gallantly. “Only because I was trying to make you You’re, um, better at this stuff than I am. This, um, couple stuff,” he added, blushing. “But I can do better.”
He is so adorable, Sara thought. What she said was , “Okay—you lead, I’ll follow.”
Scooter gulped, but Sara saw him square his shoulder. He stepped forward, took her into his arms and smiled. “I sure do like the sound of that.”

Kermit was used to not being in charge when he was in charge and he had learned to go with the flow. This dance number was not flowing. He and Piggy—alone, of all the couples—had not mastered the moves that took them through the complicated series of twists and spins that comprised most of the routine. At first it had been funny and faintly delicious, bouncing off each other and wrapping themselves into full-body contact knots, but their professional pride was being tweaked.
“Kermie,” Piggy said sweetly, but with a distinct edge to her voice. “Moi has told you several times that the first turn is to the left.”
“I was turning left,” Kermit said, sounding and feeling defensive.
“My left!” Piggy cried. “I meant my left!”
“Well, how was I supposed to know?” he shot back. “The least you could do is—“ Kermit suddenly found his way blocked by Rizzo, Rowlf, Scooter and Floyd. “Um, hi guys. I was just trying to—“
“This is an intervention,” said Floyd wickedly. Kermit put his hands on his hips and opened his mouth to reply but Rizzo interposed himself smoothly.
“We’re here to help you, buddy,” said the little rat. “There’s a trick to that move,” he explained, borrowing Scooter for a demonstration. Kermit listened and watched carefully, then said “Oh!” He looked relieved, then dared a glance at Piggy. She was surrounded by a bevy of dancers all talking animatedly. He saw her look surprised, put a hand to her mouth and turn instinctively to him. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other uncertainly, but with genuine warmth. Kermit thanked his friends, then walked over to where the women stood watching his approach. He gave them his best benevolent dictator impression.
“Thanks, ladies,” he said, and held out his hand to Piggy. There was something…some authority, some intrinsic demand in the gesture that was thrilling.
“Piggy,” he said firmly, and she put her gloved hand in his.
Kermit’s arm came around her, his hand firm against the small of her back. He looked straight into her electric blue eyes.
“Four for nothing,” he murmured. “One, two, three, four—“ And they were moving. Or, rather, from Piggy’s point of view they were flying. The hateful choreography, with its careful counts and carefully orchestrated turns evaporated from her head, but it didn’t matter. She did not need to know what she was supposed to do because Kermit knew. He guided her skillfully through the steps and Piggy didn’t have to do anything but look into his eyes and let him lead her. Dimly, she was aware that the other dancers had joined them. They spread out, filling the stage area. There was no actual music now, but an impromptu chorus of hums, la-la-las and even some actual lyrics carried them forward.
“Do…do the dance of love,” someone crooned.
“Step to the left, move to the right, make up break up love all night….”
“And we’re doing the dance of love….”
Howard had come back in, watching them assessingly from the auditorium. When the number ended, he clapped his hands three times slowly. “Not bad,” he said. “Taking shape nicely.” From Howard, high praise indeed, but at least two of the dancers weren’t that concerned about Howard just then.
“That was great, Piggy,” Kermit murmured. He had liked the feel of her, trusting and compliant in his arms. “Once I figured out what I was doing.”
“I like what you were doing,” she admitted. “I should have been letting you lead.” Her expression turned impish. “Mon Capitan,” she added.
Kermit swelled with pride, something frogs are good at. “That’s right,” Kermit said resolutely. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

“So, Mabel,” said Pepe conversationally. The elaborate casualness of his tone gave her fair warning.
“Hey there, hot stuff,” she countered, squinting at the king prawn in a cautiously friendly manner.
“Hif you do not have a menu for the Christmas party, Hi have a hfew suggestions to make.”
Mabel felt her mouth trying to twitch into a smile.
“Okay,” she said amiably. “I’ll bite. What sort of food did you have in mind?”
Pepe pulled out a small piece of paper, about the size of an index card, and looked at it, frowning. “Here are a hfew of my hideas,” he said. Mabel reached out to take the list but the transfer was incomplete. The little square of paper fell…and unraveled. And unraveled. And unraveled.
The usually unflappable mole picked it up carefully and began to read.
“Dom Perignon,” she read, holding the list up close so she could see it. “Truffles.” Hoo, the missus would sure like those, she thought. She put the list down and squinted fondly at Pepe.
“Sweetie, this is a super list. You have great taste in expensive food. But our food budget doesn’t cover most of this. Sorry. You’re just gonna have to trust me to do the best I can.”
Pepe looked a little glum, but Mabel patted him on the head. “I’m baking a chocolate cake here in a few,” she said, coaxing a response.
It worked. “Oh! Can Hi, like, lick the spoon?”
“No problem, Mr. Presley. If you’re good, you can even lick the beaters.”

“Why, look, Astoria,” said Penelope. “We’ve got complimentary tickets to the Muppets New Year’s Eve show in the packet! I didn’t realize we’d get to see both shows. What a nice surprise this trip turned out to be.”
Penelope nodded. “After all those years of listening to those two old fools heckle the muppets, who’d have thought we’d be here on a free trip to see their shows.”
“It’s all because of that award,” said Astoria thoughtfully. “I didn’t quite understand about that. Apparently this organization gives an award every year to some amphibian rwho’s making a difference in the world.”
“What do Heckle and Heckle have to do with that?”
“That nice photographer said he was taking testimonials from long-time fans.”
Penelope snorted derisively. “Fans? Do they realize who their talking to here?”
Astoria smiled at her long-time friend. “Oh come now, Penelope,” she said firmly. “They may whine and moan—“
“—and complain and argue—“
“—but you know and I know—“
“—and they know—“
“that they love anything that that Kermit the Frog and his company do.”
Penelope sighed and nodded. “When you’re right, you’re right,” she said resignedly. She was thoughtful for a moment. “So what they filmed the other day was a testimonial? Do they know that?”
“Who knows,” said Astoria, “but that’s their problem. Our problem is what to do next to enjoy ourselves on this free trip. Breakfast was good—what do you want to do now?”
Penelope was tempted to say “lunch” and see if Astoria would get it, but she didn’t. “Let’s shop,” she said firmly. “It’s always a good time to shop!”
“Shopping it is,” Astoria agreed.
And off they went.

The show had gone swimmingly tonight. No snafus or unexpected outcomes. At least—not yet. Piggy waited for Kermit on the dark stage, all but invisible in the scant light and even scanter dress. She was ready for this, ready to vamp and play the siren. She heard a rustle and turned toward the sound.
“Kermie?” she whispered, too low for the audience to hear.
“Yes.” Suddenly, he was quite close to her, his hands on her shoulders, his voice just loud enough for her ears.
“Piggy, do you trust me?” Kermit whispered.
“Do I—what?” Piggy hissed. “Kermit, what are you—“
“Do you trust me?” Kermit demanded. Piggy grew still in his arms, and even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew she was searching his face. He knew that she was thinking of this afternoon, when he had asked her to follow his lead.
“Yes, Mon Capitan.”
“Flip the song.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes—Piggy, trust me! Okay?” his voice held just that right plaintive touch that never failed to move her.
“I—okay,” she said, and then the lights came on and the music began.
“I really can’t stay,” Piggy began, sounding uncertain. She was uncertain. They had not rehearsed this at all. And she was thunderstruck to see Kermit, usually so conservative, in a tuxedo so immaculately tailored that it could only have been Thoreau’s doing. And Rowlf—Rowlf over there grinning like the cat that ate the canary—did not look sufficiently surprised by this turn of events. In some part of Piggy’s brain which was not needed for performing, she was making a short list and it already had three names on it.
“But baby, it’s cold outside!”
“I have to get away,” Piggy tremored.
“But baby it’s cold outside.”
“This visit has been…”
“Been hoping that you’d drop in!”
“…so very…nice.”
“I’ll hold your hands—they’re just like ice,” Kermit crooned, his slim fingers stroking her wrists where her pulse was racing. She snatched her hands away and took a step backward, with Kermit following too close for comfort.
“My mother will start to worry…” Thoughts of Hortense stabilized Piggy momentarily.
“But beautiful, what's your hurry?” His arms slipped around her.
“My father will be pacing the floor!” She tried to go past him but he pulled her into his arms and dipped her low.
“Listen to the fireplace roar.” His eyes were boring into hers, warm with amusement and desire.
“So really I'd better scurry…” she said faintly, wondering if she’d have the resolve to hold her composure through this song.
“Sweetie-pie, please don't hurry,” he murmured.
“Well maybe just a half a drink more.”
And he swung her up on her heels, twirling her toward the CD player they were using for a prop. “Put some music on while I pour.”
“The neighbors might think,” Piggy began, looking at the CDs to still the trembling of her hands.
“Oh, Baby, it's bad out there.”
“Say, what's in this drink,” Piggy sang, actually fumbling the glass of colored water.
“No cabs to be had out there.” He caught her shoulder and spun her to face him, dancing her suavely across the floor.
“I wish I knew how…”
“Your eyes are like starlight now.”
“To break this spell,” Piggy whimpered.
“I'll take your wrap, you sure look swell.”
“I ought to say no, no, no, sir,” Piggy said, but automatically, as though she didn’t really mean it.
“Mind if I come a little closer?”
“At least I'm gonna say that I tried,” Piggy sighed.
“Say—what's the sense in hurting my pride?”
“I really can't stay—“
“Baby don't hold out!”
“Ahh, but it's cold outside,” they sang together.
They danced close through the musical bridge, moving together as though it were pre-ordained. Kermit’s arms were tight around her, supporting her, showing her that he was worthy of her trust—would always be worthy of her faith in him. Piggy found her performing center again, felt confident enough to tease him back.
“I simply must go,” she began, slipping under his arm.
“Baby, it's cold outside.” He caught her arm and turned her back to face him.
”The answer is no,” she growled.
“But baby, it's cold outside,” Kermit pleaded.
“This welcome has been—“ Piggy began, pausing to look him up and down.
“I'm lucky that you dropped in!” Kermit interjected.
”—so nice and warm,” she concluded, making it very plain that she knew exactly what he was up to.
“Look out the window at that storm,” Kermit said guilelessly, one slender hand settling firmly just below the small of her back.
“My sister will be suspicious.” For a moment, every one in the audience entertained the thought of twin Piggys. A gentleman near the back actually had to fish out his inhaler and use it.
“My, your lips look so delicious.” No one doubted it. Kermit almost succeeded in landing a kiss, but Piggy feinted back and he missed his mark.
“My brother will be there at the door,” she warned.
“Waves upon a tropical shore,” he countered
“My maiden aunt's mind is vicious.” It was hard to imagine Piggy with a maiden aunt. Kermit the Frog obviously wasn’t wasting any thought on it.
“Gosh your lips look delicious,” he crooned, his eyes hungry as he angled in for a smooch.
Without warning, Piggy took his face between her two soft hands and kissed him—very demurely—right on the mouth. Her eyes flashed a challenge.
“Well maybe just a half a drink more,” she sang. Everything but her voice said “Go ahead, frog—convince me.”
“Never such a blizzard before,” Kermit managed, with some difficulty. After the show, he was going to kill Rowlf, or maybe shake his hand. He couldn’t decide which.
“I've got to go home,” Piggy insisted, her voice a velvety purr.
“Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there.”
“Say, lend me your coat,” she asked, her expression pouty.
“It's up to your knees out there!” Kermit bent down to illustrate how high that would be, and when he straightened, he had closed the meager distance between them. He pulled Piggy into his arms.
“You've really been grand—,” she said, gazing at him dreamily.
“Your eyes are like starlight now,” he murmured, swaying with her to the music.
“But can't you see—“
“How can you do this thing to me?” Oh—the pollywog eyes! Piggy wanted to look away, tried to look away. Drat that frog anyhow!
“There's bound to be talk tomorrow,” she protested.
“Making my life-long sorrow—“
“At least there will be plenty implied!”
“—if you caught pneumonia and died!”
“I really can't stay,” she said, but her arms were slipping around his shoulders. The audience went with her, falling under Kermit’s power.
“Please, Honey, don’t hold out!” he begged, pulling her daringly close.
“Ahh, but it's cold—baby it’s cold outside” they sang, holding the note just long enough to matter, then letting their lips merge at last. The audience roared its approval, shooting to their feet like a single living organism. Blissfully lip-locked at last, the two co-stars didn’t know and couldn’t have cared less. They had more important things on their minds.

The crowd had loved it. Kermit and Piggy were compelled to go back out after their number and take another bow to shouts of “Ker! Mit! Pig! Gy!” Laughing, they ran out onto the stage and waved.
“Way to go, Kermit my man!” shouted a well-preserved man with long white hair.
“Kiss her again!” shouted a somewhat rowdy group of twenty-somethings in the cheaper seats.
“I’ll get right on that,” Kermit quipped and the audience erupted into pandemonium again.
“Kissy, kissy!” Piggy cried. “Vous are wonderful!”
The audience continued to clamor. They looked at each other, half shy, half sly. There was nothing for it, it seemed, but to bow to their fans demands. They leaned together and kissed—just once, and very chastely. This almost brought the house down, but they turned anyway and ran off-stage together.
Kermit and Piggy marveled at the overwhelming response. Was it Brenda’s article? Was it holiday spirit? Was it a demand for proof of their continued passion for each other? Or was it that, maybe—just maybe—their fans really just wanted them to be happy?
Kermit settled on that interpretation.
“They love you, Mon Cher,” said Piggy fondly, proud of her frog.
“They loved us,” he countered. “They loved us together.”
“Me too,” she said, and ran to change.

Scooter was ecstatic. He’d been besieged with requests for interviews before, and things had only intensified since Brenda’s article came out. He knew there were contraband cameras—cell phones at least—out in the audience and he expected something to show up in the tabloid news.
If Scooter was ecstatic, Scribbler was equally morose. Although he felt more secure not that he’d found a safe place to watch them from, this latest development had left him feeling insecure and unsettled in other ways. The way they looked at each other…the way they danced together. Watching them, it was impossible to believe that Piggy wasn’t blissfully, completely happy with the choices she’d made.
Scribbler wondered uneasily where that left him. Where things usually left him, he thought. The odd man out. But before Kermit, before all this, she had come to him again and again. Before Kermit, things had been better—at least from his point of view. True, his pride had been stung (okay, mortally wounded) when she’d run off with that dratted amphibian without a single backward glance, much less a phone call, but was he justified in what he was doing? He’d been thinking more and more about his boss, about what that grudge might signify, and trying to reconcile what he wanted with what he felt he deserved. He looked at his little camera screen, cycling through the pictures he’d taken earlier.
He’d not been completely honest with his boss. He had taken pictures at their rehearsal—both during the argument between Kermit and Piggy and after its resolution. He did not know why he had not shared that fact, but he hadn’t shared it all the same. Scribbler was looking at a picture now in which the CEO of Rainbow Productions looked ready to pop a gasket, and Mrs. The Frog looked like she might pop something (or somebody) too. What a headline he could write under this photo. What a byline he could have! It was exactly the sort of thing he’d been hired to dig up, and yet….
The unhappy reporter had witnessed more than his fair share of bang-ups between them and he knew that their temporary ire meant exactly nothing. Five minutes after this, Piggy was melting in Kermit’s arms, letting him lead her around the floor as though she had no volition of her own. But this picture showed that will and the strength that backed it up. He could publish it and raise himself in the estimate of his boss. But what would Piggy think? He could remember how those big blue eyes of hers could look at you and you would want to do anything she asked. What would those eyes look like after she saw what he printed?
Up until this point, he’d just been artfully distorting what was real. While the stories and the quotes had packed a wallop, that jolt had been diluted by the fact that there was no genuine trouble between them. Oh, sure—the past few years had been a little rocky while Mr.-I-Can-Always-Juggle-One-More had been oblivious to his neglect, but nothing he had printed to date had managed to stick. This would stick. This would wound. He could score big and garner the applause (if not the respect) of his chief in one fell swoop.
He tried to conjure up Piggy’s face, tried to imagine explaining himself to her, but the face his imagination dredged up was small and green and hopeful.
“Could you make that reporter whose been writing bad stories about my Uncle Kermit stop?”
Scribbler didn’t think her could do that, but he wasn’t quite as far gone as Santa might have thought he was. His finger slid over and hit the delete button, removing any record of their previous disharmony.
“Are you sure you want to delete 07003909 from this device? File associates may be lost.”
Scribbler hit the button that said “Yes.” He thought he could stand to lose some of the associations that he currently had.

“You were very bad tonight,” Piggy said reproachfully. She sat next to him on the couch, but there was quite a stretch of couch between them. Everyone else had gone out or at least away and they were alone for the first time all day.
“You were very good,” Kermit countered, smiling his most charming smile.
Piggy’s mouth twitched up at the corner but she did not scoot closer. When Kermit tried, she put a hand out to hold the distance constant. Far from being daunted, Kermit started thinking of ways to rise to the challenge.
“I thought it made the second half more, um, spontaneous,” Kermit tried. Piggy snorted in a ladylike fashion.
“If our show gets anymore spontaneous I’m going to miss my cues.” She looked at him through narrowed lids. “Imagine the headlines,” she said ominously. “Vegas show a free-for all. Frog ruins Pig’s chance at the big-time.”
“I already think you’re in the big-time,” said Kermit. He tried to scoot a little closer again, and Piggy allowed it. “Aren’t you the star of my show? Aren’t you the center of my universe?” This time Piggy’s snort was anything but ladylike. “You are!” Kermit protested, a little stung by her reaction, but Piggy looked thoughtful.
“Moi concedes (Kermit perked up. In his current state in the dog house, he liked the word ‘concede.’) that you think of me as a heavenly body,” she said at last. It was Kermit’s turn to snort, but Piggy smiled. She might even have inched a little closer on her own. “But Moi reserves the right to observe that I am not the only thing you orbit. You have responsibilities—“
“Yeah, but—“ Kermit huffed.
“—and there are many demands on your time—“
“Now wait a minute—“ he cried, indignant.
“CEO, Director, Uncle, Husband….”
He sputtered, unable to argue. “But, but—“
“—and Moi would not have it any other way,” she concluded.
Kermit started to protest but then the real point of what she’d said intruded.
“You—you wouldn’t?” he asked cautiously.
Piggy shook her head, her expression serene. She leaned her head back on the couch and looked up. Kermit know she was going to say something that made her a little uncomfortable. She wanted to say it, and she wanted him to listen, but she didn’t want to say it directly to him.
“Before we got married, there were a few men who tried to make me the center of their universe,” she said quietly.
“There were lots of them,” Kermit murmured, but low enough not to be an interruption.
“That’s a pretty exciting place to be, but it’s also….” She hesitated, not sure how to say what she wanted. “It’s sortof limiting.”
“Being the center of someone’s universe is sortof limiting?” Kermit had been married long enough to know that repeating what someone says to you is a great way to show that you were really listening.
“Um hum.” Piggy smiled, and her cheeks turned pink. She looked up at the ceiling again. “Do you remember when we were working in the theater?”
“Um hum,” Kermit said. His voice sounded a little closer, and Piggy was pretty sure if she turned her head to look, his body would be a little closer, too.
“And I was just crazy about you. You were so commanding,” she said dreamily. “So in charge of everything.”
Kermit remembered her being crazy about him. He did not—quite—remember being in charge, but it seemed a bad time to nit-pick. “I remember that,” said Kermit, blushing a little himself. It had been a little overwhelming, this passionate attention from one of his young starlets. He had not known quite how to deal with it, and had dealt with it rather badly on occasion. “It was…um, exciting,” he added uncomfortably.
“Yes, it was exciting. But once you started to think of me that way, as someone you were dating, it was harder for you to see me any other way. It was harder for you to see me as an actress, as a singer. It was harder for you to see me as a professional.”
Kermit was silent for a moment, digesting. “Yes,” he admitted. Professional distance had been a problem for both of them when they were dating.
“If all you see of someone is what you want to see in them, then they never get a chance to show you everything they truly are.” Piggy did look at him then, her eyes suspiciously bright. “You're the only one who ever saw all of me.”
She was serious and he was serious, but the double meaning dawned on both of them at the same time. Her face flamed scarlet and Kermit let out a great shout of laughter, closed the remaining distance between them and put his arms tight around her unresisting form. He had enough self-restraint not to spoil the moment.
“I’m glad you showed me all of you, Piggy,” he said softly, then his smile and his gaze grew impish. “Let me say for the record that if you want to show me something now, I’m ready to see it.”
“You are very bad,” she murmured. “Very bad.”
“But I can be very good,” he wheedled.
Piggy finally giggled, and her arms slipped around his neck.
“Prove it,” she demanded.
Kermit leaned in, prepared and puckered, only to be interrupted by a series of strident bleats from his PDA. He looked at Piggy anxiously, grabbed it and looked at the screen. Piggy, looking over his shoulder, began to laugh.
“Sweetie,” she said gently. “Next time you set a reminder message for the cast and crew meeting, be sure it says AM and not PM.”
On the screen was one word: Party.
Kermit turned rakish eyes on his wife. “Who says the reminder is for the cast and crew?” he teased.
Piggy just laughed and put her arms around him again.

 

[TogetherAgain]

GLORIOUS!

Oh, that was JUST the bed-time story I needed. Just EXCELLENT.

I love and adore all the intricacies you weave into your story-telling, not just with the plot lines (though goodness knows you've got quite the knack for that) but with the characters. That whole scene showing Scribbler with a conscience... INCREDIBLE!

And the DANCE scene--no, dance SCENES! I'm a real sucker for frog/pig dancing, and boy did you nail it! I'm getting shivers just thinking about it. Gosh, I LOVE their relationship.

And speaking of their relationship, dear goodness, that final scene! That CONVERSATION! Oh, wow... Definitely, definitely the perfect bedtime story. I'm SO glad I decided to check the forum one more time before I shuffled off. THANK YOU thank you thank you for posting!

But you know we're insatiable. So, MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

 

[The Count]

Heeee... I love waking up and finding a new chapter of this story has been posted. Though that usually means you aren't here to continue conversing on it at the time. Thank you for updating. It shows true character when even Scribbler can lie to his employer, showing he's starting to heed his conscience once again. The bit with Pepe's menu was funny. The interlude between the hecklers' wives was nice, I wonder how you envision Penelope in both appearance and wardrobe, and comparative height against the rest of that critic quartet. Very much enjoyed the backstage frenetics of preparing for a new dance number, my question is where in the lineup it'll fall to. And of course, there's a particular section in this chapter that made it all worth the wait. Can't wait to see where that little stroll ends up taking us.

Again, thanks. More please? Please?
*Continues to root for Ru now that she's five posts away from the milestone.

 

[Muppetfan44]

Loved It!

I loved it when I get up in the morning and can read such a wonderful update. It was just the frog-pig lovey dovey uplift I needed. You definitely made this hopeless romantic happy! Let me explain why I loved this update:

Originally posted by Ruahnna
“Wow is right,” muttered Scooter. “Kermit insisted on out-doing last year’s bonus.”
“How much is ‘wow’?” Sara quipped.
Scooter grinned and gave the scripted response. “Somewhere between ouch and boing.”
“I love White Christmas,” said Fozzie

Love this quote! It's from one of my favorite movies and totally fits in with the tradition of lavish spending Jim would do to throw parties and show his employees that he really appreciated them and their work

“What do you want, Howard dear?”
“Not much,” he said, leaning back against the counter. “The respect of my peers, a little professional recognition and a pair of chinos that don’t make my butt look big.

Isn't that what we all want? haha, loved this!

“The Island one or the Love Dance one?”

The Dance of Love was great...definitely intrigued by the Island one..hope we get to see that soon! I can totally see Piggy in her outfit she had for The Fantastic Miss Piggy in the Luau number

Kermit thanked his friends, then walked over to where the women stood watching his approach. He gave them his best benevolent dictator impression.
“Thanks, ladies,” he said, and held out his hand to Piggy. There was something…some authority, some intrinsic demand in the gesture that was thrilling.
“Piggy,” he said firmly, and she put her gloved hand in his.
Kermit’s arm came around her, his hand firm against the small of her back. He looked straight into her electric blue eyes.

Finally! Love it when Kermit takes charge of the relationship. It really shows that he has strong feelings for her and he is willing to do what it takes to show it to her- oh how I wish they were doing this in recent muppet productions... The way he firmly said her name..totally gave me chills. You write this so well because your readers can instantly picture what you're writing and have such a strong emotional response to it

“That nice photographer said he was taking testimonials from long-time fans.”
Penelope snorted derisively. “Fans? Do they realize who their talking to here?”
Astoria smiled at her long-time friend. “Oh come now, Penelope,” she said firmly. “They may whine and moan—“
“—and complain and argue—“
“—but you know and I know—“
“—and they know—“
“that they love anything that that Kermit the Frog and his company do.”

Great segment! It's a very nice way to explain why those two curmudgeons go to great lenghts to catch all the shows. They may heckle Fozzie a lot, but something tells me they would very upset if the bear wasn't there... (love it when I can rhyme, I try to do it all the time, lol)

She heard a rustle and turned toward the sound.
“Kermie?” she whispered, too low for the audience to hear.
“Yes.” Suddenly, he was quite close to her, his hands on her shoulders, his voice just loud enough for her ears.
“Piggy, do you trust me?” Kermit whispered.
“Do I—what?” Piggy hissed. “Kermit, what are you—“
“Do you trust me?” Kermit demanded.

TOTAL melting moment..at first I was super frightened that Piggy was going to get nabbed on stage but then my spine tingled even more when Kermit surprises her seconds before they have to start the number, and I loved it how Piggy was baffled

The audience roared its approval, shooting to their feet like a single living organism. Blissfully lip-locked at last, the two co-stars didn’t know and couldn’t have cared less. They had more important things on their minds.

The crowd had loved it. Kermit and Piggy were compelled to go back out after their number and take another bow to shouts of “Ker! Mit! Pig! Gy!” Laughing, they ran out onto the stage and waved.

The whole song was wonderful..I was melting for every moment..there was just so much more there when Kermit was doing all the charming..it's so unexpected but so great when the tables are turned like this. I really do think that audiences would really enjoy if stuff like this happened more in muppet productions. Fans loved it (especially me) when Kermit kissed Piggy in IAVMMC and totally missed that aspect when it wasn't in Letters to Santa. I mean, there is only so much of Kermit rejecting Piggy that a fan can take, and I am sooooo at my limit. I'm hoping more than anything that the new movie will have a lot more romance and good moments for my fave muppet pair..but in the meantime reading updates like this from you are wonderful and brighten my whole day.

LOVED this update and I can't wait to read more. Still perplexed at what Scribbler and the man in black's plans are and looking forward to see how the Christmas party goes....amazing work as always and I'm so glad the ush gush is alive and well in the forums! Great job and please please please post more soon!

 

[TogetherAgain]

I wanted to add to my rave from last night while I wait for the maintenance guy to fix my freezer...

Robin, paper chains, fur, and tape. Oy, but you sure know how to melt a Toga! It's just SUCH an adorable little scene. I can definitely see Robin clearing out the whole city's supply of construction paper! I love that Fozzie and Gonzo both get their fur stuck in the tape. That's a detail I never would have thought of. And of course, their different reactions to it are perfect.

And Robin, well... We all know I'm a Robin fan, right? I've made that perfectly clear? Then I'll just reiterate that Ru, you know how to melt a Toga. That should suffice.

So that's part two of the rave, and I'm still sure I'm forgetting things, because you pack SO much into every chapter. Let's see... There's the Penelope/Astoria exchange, and--Did I mention the "Party" reminder last night? I didn't? I love that reminder, and the exchange surrounding it. Partly because that AM/PM thing has foiled me many times... You'd think I would learn!

And I second every word of Muppetfan's post. And since I don't feel my rave about dance scenes was sufficient last night, let me sing praises for TRUST! Oh my GOSH that... wow. Of COURSE Piggy trusts Kermit, and I love how much it shows here, and how he completely throws her off-center... for a bit. And then she gets right back in the game! And ah, just the fact that he went to such lengths to surprise her, and how well it WORKED, and their chemistry, and... <sigh> Yes. It is good. And I am a puddle.

Getting back to Scribbler's conscience... I love, love, LOVE that little Robin is the face he pictures, and that, “Could you make that reporter whose been writing bad stories about my Uncle Kermit stop?" OHHHHHHHHHHH I am melted. And SCRIBBLER was thinking that! PICTURING that! OHHHHHHHHH dear goodness. Ru, you are fabulous. Absolutely utterly fabulous.

And I'm probably still forgetting things...

But in the meantime, the maintenance guy is all done with the fridge, the oven, and the blinds now, so I suppose I should get on with my day. Thanks for the update, Ru!