A Pig Out of Water

A Pig Out of Water

“Kermit,” Piggy said urgently. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, Piggy,” Kermit said absently. “Just give me a second here.” He signed his signature hastily and turned to her. “Yes?”
Piggy gave him a frustrated look. “In your office?”
Under normal circumstances, Kermit would have been suspicious, but something in her big blue eyes told him that there was more than flirtation at stake. He ushered her in—but kept the door open.
How strange, Kermit thought. Piggy looks uncomfortable. Piggy was rarely uncomfortable—Kermit thought of her more as a carrier—but she was clearly agitated about something.
“I want—I need to talk to you about the script changes,” she said, with nervous look at the open door. “Now.”
“I’m listening,” he said, trying to look reasonable and firm at the same time.
“It’s about the water scene,” she nearly whispered.
Kermit was momentarily confused. “The water—Oh! The water ballet—yeah,” he said, suddenly enthusiastic. “It’s going to be great. They started working on the new sets today.”
If possible, Piggy looked more apprehensive. “When do they want to start filming that part?”
“Couple of weeks, we hope. Maybe a little longer if the sets—“
“Oh….” The sound had escaped before she could stop it. Piggy put one hand to her mouth, looking crestfallen and flustered.
Kermit began to be genuinely concerned.
“Piggy, are you—are you okay?”
She mumbled something unintelligible, looking at the floor.
“What?” Kermit leaned forward. “I can’t understand you.”
A slightly louder mumble, with Piggy looking nervously again toward the door.
“Just tell me,” Kermit said, frustration beginning to show in his voice.
“I can’t swim.”
“What?”
“I. Can’t. Swim,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
Kermit stepped back in surprise. “Wha--?”
“I. CANNOT. SWIM,” she said, loud enough to have attracted the attention of anyone within 20 feet. Luckily, there was no one.
“What do you mean you can’t swim?” Kermit demanded.
“What do you mean what do I mean?” Piggy shot back. “Read my lips, frog.” She leaned closer, but there was nothing coquettish about it. “I. Cannot. Swim.”
Kermit was having trouble with the concept. “But you, I mean we, we talked about it. The fountain scene—you said—“
“I said I could float,” Piggy said distinctly. “I can even almost dive, but I cannot swim.”
Kermit was flabbergasted. “But, but—you can sing, you can tap dance, you can do karate and ballet and…how can you not know how to swim?”
Piggy put her hands on her hips.
“Look, Mister I-was-born-in-a-swamp,” Piggy said hotly. “It might surprise you to know that not all of us grew up with a bog in our backyard.”
“Yes, but—“
“And nobody ever asked me to swim in a beauty pageant or on stage. It never came up.”
“But Piggy, I just thought, I mean…you can do everything.” His voice was very small and wistful, and if Piggy hadn’t been so defensive she might have recognized the compliment and melted just a little.
“Apparently not!” She turned away from him, hunched miserably, and crossed her arms across her chest.
“It’s such a great scene….” Kermit said quietly. “I wish—“
“I know,” Piggy wailed. “But you didn’t tell me or ask me or—“ She broke off, fighting back tears.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to cut the scene, do it the way we originally planned.”
“Why don’t you ask Annie Sue to do it?” Piggy flung back. She felt miserable and wanted Kermit to feel miserable too.
Kermit slapped both his hands over his face. “Sheesh! Again with Annie Sue! Piggy—Annie Sue is married and has four litters by now. I do not want to ask Annie Sue. I want you—that is, I want you to do, um, the part.”
He was quiet for a moment, his mind racing, then he reached out and caught Piggy by the shoulder, turning her to face him. He took both of her hands in his. Piggy was so astonished that she opened her mouth and shut it without saying anything.
“Look, Piggy, “ Kermit said earnestly. “Would you—would you be willing to learn?”
“Learn?”
“Yes—take lessons. You’re an awfully quick study….” He wheedled.
“I don’t know, Kermit. There’s so little time and I don’t know when I could—“
“Morning and evenings—before and after, “ Kermit said, squeezing her hands. “I know you could do it.”
“Well,” Piggy waffled. “It is a great scene. I’ll—I’ll try, Kermit, but who—“
“Great!” Kermit said, relief flooding his features. “I knew I could count on you.” He leaned forward suddenly, on impulse, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. Piggy was too surprised to respond, standing stock-still. Kermit was halfway out the door before she recovered her voice.
“But Kermit,” she called. “Who—who is going to teach me?”
“Don’t worry about that—we’ll find somebody. I’ll call you tonight when I get the details ironed out.”

Piggy was more than a little apprehensive when she arrived the next morning at the address Kermit had given her. A friend who was filming in Italy had been happy to grant access to his Olympic-sized pool for the next few weeks. Piggy pressed the security buzzer and the gate swung open soundlessly. She wrapped her cover-up more closely around her and gripped the handle of her leopard-print duffle with nervous fingers as she walked to the front door.
A note taped to the glass told her to proceed around back, and she followed the paving-stone path across the lawn and around the house. A wooden privacy gate opened when she pushed, and she looked anxiously for the one who would be her teacher. She heard water running and turned to see a long, lean figure in black swim trunks topping off the pool—a long, lean, green figure.
“Oh, no,” she said hastily. “I am not doing this.”
Kermit caught her before she could clear the gate, his hands on her shoulders.
“C’mon, Piggy—don’t be that way. I’m a good swimmer. I can teach you.”
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I—I don’t think it would work.”
“Piggy, please….” Darn him, he was giving her “the look,” the puppy-dog look that not even Fozzie could beat. It was terribly unfair, Piggy thought miserably. She let out a deep sigh and let Kermit turn her back toward the water. His hands on her shoulders were gentle. “At least try—for me.”
“I will…I will try,” Piggy said finally. “But if you get snarky with me I swear—“
“No snarking,” Kermit said quickly. He held up two fingers. “Frog Scouts’ honor,” he said.
Piggy gave him a withering look. “You were never a Frog Scout,” she snapped, but at least she stayed.

Kermit had one bad moment after that, waiting for Piggy to join him in the pool. It suddenly dawned on him what Piggy might have chosen to wear beneath that terry-cloth cover up, and he braced himself for a little more glamour and sex appeal than he thought he could withstand before 6 a.m. He heard the robe fall and peeked around nervously, only to find Piggy looking right at him, and perfectly attired in a very no-nonsense indigo-purple maillot. She looked at him as though she knew exactly what he’d been thinking, and Kermit felt himself blush, but she merely began to tuck her hair up under a swim cap.
“What did you think I’d be wearing?” she asked silkily. “An itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny purple polka-dot bikini?”
Kermit couldn’t help himself. He smiled widely and nodded. “Um, yes, actually.”
It was Piggy’s turn to blush. “Well you were wrong.”
“Darn,” Kermit muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. “And I took this job on account of—“
“Kermit, so help me—“
He laughed again, but held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Piggy—no more joking.”
“I am working,” she said stiffly. “And so are you.”
“Yes,” Kermit agreed, and work they did.

It was not as bad as Piggy had professed, nor as good as Kermit had secretly hoped, but he was optimistic. Piggy really was a quick study, and she took direction very well (when she took it at all). By the end of the first session, she was well beyond, um, dog-paddling, and on her way to some fairly convincing moves. Piggy had always had a talent for slap-stick—she could take a fall with the best of them, but she had worked and polished her physical talents until her body would, mostly, do what she wanted it to do. Kermit was more than passing aware of this, but was happy to find that Piggy was completely focused on the work. He could have been the gym instructor at the Y—the one with the terminally baggy pants—for all the notice Piggy took of him as a man. This made the work easier, but Kermit was surprised to find himself just a little disappointed.
At last, Piggy walked up the pool steps and reached for a towel. After she had dried her face—patting gently, no rubbing—she plucked the swim cap from her head and her hair fell around her shoulders in glorious disarray. The early morning sun caught the gold in her hair, and her sleek, dark swimsuit left no curve to the imagination. She turned suddenly and caught him staring. Kermit flushed and started to stammer an explanation, but instead of getting mad, she smiled—a demure smile, a secret smile.
“Well, Coach,” she said softly. “I guess I’ll see you later.” And with that, she picked up her duffle and left.

<Giggles> I needed that. <<<Hugs>>> Thanks, Ruahnna.

<looks around quickly> <runs off to finish homework>

Wow, I loved that! No offense, but I found it a pleasant change from the usual romance. It's not that I don't like romance novels and such; it's just that for some reason, I'm not crazy about it in fanfiction. I also like the casual way you through in mentions of other muppets. It sort of makes it clear that there still is a conection between them and the rest of the world. Keep of the good work!

He-he! That was both cute and funny! Imagine, Piggy not knowing how to swim! That's great! I really liked this!

Aw I'm really loving it.

Great job, Ruahnna! This is shaping up to be a lot of fun! Loved how agitated Piggy was about admitting she can't swim and how Kermit simply assumes she can do anything. Very cute story!

Oddly enough, I started one based on Piggy not being able to swim as well. I'll drop it for now, or at least put it on the shelf for a while. Great minds think alike, eh? (And let's forget about the fools who seldom differ.)

Is there going to be more to this?

Yes--of COURSE there's more!! (Frog and pig showdown on the way....) I'm having a birthday party for my Mom tonight, so I'm dashing like made trying to hide all the bodies, um, er, I mean, tidy up the knick-knacks and do a little cooking. I promise to post a big installment tonight!

Oh, and FraggleMuppte--I'm not try to bore the non-romance folks--just writing what comes. Glad this was more your speed!

Aww! How cute! I never thought of a Kermit puppy dog look before, sounds so adorable

And there's going to be more of this one? Yay!

Yeah, and I never thaught of Fozzie as being particularly strong, in order to withstand Kermit's looks. *smile*
That's OK Ruana; you keep doing what you do best. You're vary good at it!

The More the Merrier!

I DO NOT have a monopoly on ANY ideas--you got one, I want to see it! The world needs more frogdom and pigdom!!
In fact, I was wondering if some unbiased non-writer type person on the boards would like to start a thread in which they suggested a story idea, and each of us developed it in our own way. No posting until a certain date (say, a week, for example) and then everybody post a story on the same theme. (Like we all don't have enough to do....)
First off--do any writers want to do this? Secondly, does anyone want to be the "suggestor"?
(Oh. My. Gosh. I'm muffining my own post. Got to get out more....)

Ooh, ack! Don't misinterpret me, Ru! I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, or criticize you! I just thought it was a funny coincidence that's all, and I like where you went with it! I just figured it might be a good idea for me to let my idea go for a while anyway, 'cause, you know, I didn't want other people to think I was copying you, that's all. It's hardly developed right now anyway and I thought I might use it in the fabric of a longer story.

Erm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to annoy. I still think you're great!

As to your idea, it sounds like a lot of fun, sort of a writing challenge thread. I find those really useful when I'm stuck for ideas. And I love seeing different interpretations on the same subject. I'd be happy enough to participate, although I wont be around for a while.

Leyla
Yay for the pig and the frog!

There were good days and bad days. Most days, truly, were a mixture of both.
Today had been a grueling day. Piggy felt as if she’d tapped danced her toes off, and she felt like she’d been repeatedly mugged by the make-up and hair-styling police as they’d sought to keep her looking freshly powdered and curled. Swim practice this morning had not gone well because she was thinking about the day’s demands, and she was tired and sore and grouchy when she arrived. Kermit was also feeling the strain of their double schedule. By some never verbalized pact, they did not discuss their before and after hours meeting, nor did they allow them to carry over into filming. When he saw Piggy on the set every morning, it was as though they were meeting for the first time. If anything, Piggy seemed more formal, more aloof even, but Kermit worked hard to convince himself she was merely using professionalism to offset both the huge chunks of time they were spending together as well as the romantic overtones of the scenes they were now filming. It did not, he told himself firmly, have anything to do with the polite and very well-mannered interest her other co-star, Charles Grodin, had taken in her. In fact, she seemed very even-handed in her treatment of Kermit and “Charlie,” but somehow that thought did not comfort him.
In one of the many weird ways that life and art seemed intimately entwined, the story they were filming had autobiographical overtones. At it’s most basic, it was a simple frog-meets-pig story (with a jewel heist and a fashion show), complicated by the fact that another suitor shows up to court the pig. There were moments—days even, if Kermit was honest—when he wondered self-consciously about the script. Had it been absolutely necessary for the “other man” to be so bad? Had it really been believable that Piggy wouldn’t give him serious consideration as a suitor even before she knew he was a cad? Had Piggy’s on-screen single-minded dedication to him been believable? He liked to think so, but some small voice kept teasing him that is was all wishful thinking.
This is ridiculous, Kermit thought irritably. Piggy is my girl. At least, she always seemed to be when he wanted her to be, but there was no use pretending that they were not in one of their off-again phases. True, Piggy wasn’t seeing anyone else (that you know of, the voice prompted nastily), and Kermit had neither the time nor the desire for a social life at present, but something seemed off, seemed wrong, seemed wanting. The other day, filming the prison scene, she’d actually grumbled about having to do the kissing-between-the-mesh scene several times. The fake mustache he wore was supposed to transfer during the kiss, but it just wasn’t working. Take after take the darn thing wouldn’t budge off his upper lip, despite changing the angle, timing and intensity of the kiss. Piggy was a professional—when the camera’s rolled she kissed, and her kisses—fake or otherwise—were never to be taken lightly. But Kermit could sense, could feel, that her heart and soul weren’t in it. He had been kissed by her on more than one occasion with considerable heart and soul, and he knew—knew exactly—what he was missing. When the scene had finally wrapped, he could have sworn he heard her say “thank goodness,” and it put him in a monstrous mood for the whole rest of the day. If he had known—if he had even suspected how many times that afternoon that she’d been tempted to come right across the table and kiss him—kiss him to stay kissed—he wouldn’t have been so disgruntled
As it was, the evening practice found them both sulky and resentful before they even began, and the first half hour was very rocky. Eventually, though, as so often happened with them, the work became an end unto itself, and they slipped back into more comfortable roles.
One scene called for Piggy to do the backstroke, but she could not get comfortable with lying back in the water. Kermit took her out deep enough to give them some working room, but not so deep her feet couldn’t touch the bottom and tried to get her to lie back and float.
“Trust me,” Kermit said gently. “C’mon—it’s okay.”
“No, I—I don’t want to.”
“I’ve got you, Piggy,” he would say, his hands steady under her. At the last minute, she would lose her nerve, and when she panicked and tried to sit up the water closed over her head. Over and over, the pattern was repeated, and eventually Piggy’s swim-cap came off. Now her hair was in her face, her mouth tasted like chlorine and she was so tired and hungry and angry she felt shaky. She pushed the heavy curtain of hair out of her face and let out a slow breath.
“I’m done,” she muttered. “I cannot do this.”
“Piggy, you can.”
“Sell it to someone who cares,” she snapped, starting toward the stone steps. Exasperated, frustrated by his own limitations, Kermit followed her. Before she reached them, Kermit slipped up behind her and—risking sudden and immediate death if his grip was not true—grasped her firmly under the arms and became to take her back to the deep end.
“What?!” Piggy sputtered, trying to twist free, but they were in Kermit’s element now, and he could man-handle (frog-handle? pig-handle?) her with relative ease—at least for a few minutes at a time. When they got to deep water, Kermit leaned back upon the water, pulling Piggy with him. She had one panicky moment and tried to stand, but Kermit held her firmly, safely, letting the water support them both. After a moment of panting, Piggy realized she was not sinking, was not drowning. She was—quite surprisingly—lying back in Kermit’s arms and the water was sustaining them. Kermit felt her begin to relax, but he held her tight, wanting her to feel secure and very slowly began to paddle his feet.
“Oh,” Piggy said softly, ‘this is—this is nice.” She looked up at the stars, not minding the damp hair in her face, not minding the smell and taste of chlorine. Experimentally, she spread her arms wide, feeling the embrace of the water beneath her.
“Yeah,” Kermit murmured against her neck, paddling in a wide, lazy circle. “I used to love to swim at night in the swamp. It’s peaceful-like, hm?”
“Yes,” Piggy whispered, seeing the stars spread like diamonds across the sky. After a moment, Piggy began to paddle, too, letting her legs do the work. After several moments, Kermit shifted slightly--still supporting her, but now from the side, one arm under her waist. They made a couple of lazy circuits of the pools, listening to the crickets chirp. Were it not for the distant sounds of traffic, they could have been in the middle of nowhere, far from the press of the city. When Kermit felt she was ready, he withdrew his support and clasped Piggy’s hand. The paddled around dreamily, looking at the sky with the warm water beneath them. It was, Piggy thought later, a glimpse into Kermit’s world that she had never had before—a glimpse into his childhood.
“Hey Piggy,” Kermit said softly, not wanting to break the mood.
“Hmm?’
“Piggy—you’re floating.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, I am.”

They were shy with each other when they climbed out of the pool moments later. Piggy set about drying herself carefully. Kermit pretended to the do the same, while actually watching her out of the corner of his eye. He enjoyed watching her, especially when she was relaxed, unguarded. He wished she felt that comfortable with him all the time.
Piggy was toweling her hair carefully. The stylists would rake her over the coals tomorrow, wondering what she’d done to her hair, but there was nothing for it now. She stepped into her sandals, flung her cover-up around her shoulders and picked up her duffle. It was dark, and Kermit stepped up close to her so he could see her face.
“You did great.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, really.”
“Thank you for helping me—I didn’t know—I couldn’t get it until you showed me.”
Kermit stubbed a webbed toe against the concrete in mock self-deprecation. “Aw shucks, ma’am—twernt nothin’. It’s a frog thing.”
“Apparently.”
They laughed softly, then Piggy looked away.
“See,” Kermit said quietly. “You were worried for nothing. I told you I’d hold on to you, Piggy.”
Kermit thought he heard her inhale sharply, but she did not move. In the dimness, her expression was unreadable.
“Yes,” she whispered, not looking at him. “You did say that.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, then Kermit reached out to take her duffle, his hand closing over hers.
“Here—let me carry that for—“
“No—I, I’m doing fine on my own,” Piggy said quickly, turning away. Before Kermit could say anything else, she was gone.

No criticism felt, honey--you didn't annoy, not one bit. And I do think this sort of simultaneous-great-idea thing happens often in fandom, and that it is just a sign that we are all picking up on something essential about the characters--what they want to show us, or teach us, or make us think about. I just wanted you to know I don't feel proprietary about story ideas--anyone and EVERYONE can write their own version of an idea. I'm readin' 'em as fast as I can!

This is just so beautiful! I love reading these romance-y stories! It's the Harlquins of Muppet Fandom!!

(And this coming from someone who swore she'd never read a Harlquin Romance Novel as long as she lived! -- But...that probably happened because my Mother owns over 400 of them. XD)

I love it! I'm glad you wrote more, I wasn't sure from how you had left it in the first chapter. I like your idea about picking a theme and having people write on it. Might be something to run past Fozzie Bear though, he might decided it should go in games or something. Ok, sorry, enough muffining. I like this story! Yea for the pig and the frog!

Ohhh! Oh it makes me so happy inside... <Sigh> I love the idea of them floating together in the pool, it's just so... peaceful, and quiet, and sweet, and... <Sigh>...

But what a pity that they're in an "off-again" stage.

"I told you I'd hold onto you, Piggy." Oh! Do I detect a double meaning? Aw...

MORE PLEASE!

Oh good, so were okay then. Yay!

I don't know what to say about this scene, although I think I could just point to Lisa's post and say "ditto".

I like that it isn't all sunshine and roses for them, in both their work life and their personal lives. I like Piggy's uneasiness in the water and Kermit's solution. It's sort of a trust exercise, and it's so different seeing Piggy have to conquer a fear. She so rarely frightened of anything.

Great description! It's very tactile... I can completely empathise with that feeling. (Just got highlights done... my scalp is still whimpering)

I like your contrasting Charles personality with his bad guy character in the movie. He's such a cad in that movie, so it's nice to imagine him being polite... oh, and he's interested in Piggy too. One jealous frog, coming right up!
Life imitates art... or is it art imitates life... and with the Muppets, who can tell? I've said it before, but I do love all these layers of reality.

You keep reminding us of these fun Kermit/Piggy moments from the good old days. "Piggy is my girl" Avery Schriver Episode, the Rosenthal kissing scene (Gosh, I love that moustache!), the water ballet. It's like watching Muppet home movies.

I never used to like romances... at all, but lately I've been such a girly girl! I loved that line!!

So cute!

Loved Piggy having a glimpse into Kermit's childhood, and as has been said, the whole peaceful atmosphere of the floating scene.

Oh, that's a good frog, yes you is!

And Piggy's in one of her independant moods I see. Well, no wonder. It's not easy to admit you need help with something, especially with all the romantic tension between them. They are definately in one of their off-again phases though... pity they can't seem co-ordinate their emotions better, eh?

Out of his element

Piggy seemed much her usual self the next morning, except she seemed distracted and easily flustered. She worked hard—worked with palpable concentration on her swim strokes—and seemed more at ease in the water than she had before. Something had changed the night before, and though Kermit couldn’t identify it, he could see the results.
After practice, Piggy dried herself off with her usual thoroughness, but she kept tilting her head as though her neck were stiff.
“Everything okay?” Kermit asked.
“Yes, fine,” Piggy said. “I just feel like I have water in my ear.”
“Oh. Sorry, Piggy, I never thought…, that is, um…frogs don’t have, you know, ears like—” An idea seemed to hit him. He looked around the pool for a spot of bright stone tile, then grabbed her hand and pulled her after him. “I’ve heard this helps, though.” He knelt quickly, then stretched out on his side, his head pressed to the hot concrete where his ear would have been—if he’d had one. ‘Here—lay down with your ear against the hot stone.”
Piggy gave him a look that was openly skeptical, but she stretched out facing him, her velvety pink ear tilted onto the sun-drenched ground. Her expression of bemusement turned to wonder as the heat of the stone pulled the moisture from her ear. She smiled at him, delighted.
“Better?” Kermit asked.
Piggy nodded slightly, still smiling. “Much better.”
It was nice, Kermit thought, to stretch out on the warm sidewalk beside her. Nicer than going to work. Neither spoke, but they smiled at each other drowsily, letting the sun warm and dry them. Kermit waged a silent internal battle, finally heaving himself up with a sigh only when Piggy herself sat up and brushed the hair back from her face.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m learning all sorts of things.”
Kermit meant to say something else—meant to say how well she was doing, to tell her how much he appreciated her hard work, to ask her if she’d like to have lunch with him. Before he could figure out what to say and how to say it, Piggy had gathered her things and left.
“Oh well,” he thought philosophically. “I’ll see her at the set.”

Kermit knocked on Piggy’s dressing room door, but didn’t wait to enter since it was already open.
“Hey Piggy,” he called. “I was wondering—“
He pulled up short, looking with surprise and displeasure at the big picnic hamper Charles Grodin held in one well-manicured hand. Piggy gave a guilty start, but Charles favored him with a brilliant smile and stepped forward.
“Kermit—wonderful stuff this morning. I caught the end of the Happiness Hotel bit—loved the part with the bed.”
“Oh—oh, thank you, Charles,” Kermit said stiffly. He did not look at Piggy, who was not looking at him.
Charles must have sensed some of the tension in the room because he looked from one to the other quickly, his face uncertain, but Piggy came to his rescue, stepping forward and putting a gloved hand on his arm. She took a deep breath and looked right at Kermit.
“Charles came to see if I wanted to go out onto the studio grounds for lunch,” she said. “We worked through lunch yesterday, and he wanted to make it up to me.” Her eyes were steady, but Kermit thought—hoped, maybe—that there was just the tiniest plea for understanding there. He squared his shoulders and pasted a smile on his face.
“What a nice idea,” he said. He hoped his voice sounded hearty, and that they could not tell he was gritting his teeth. Kermit tried to return Piggy’s look, but succeeded only in looking just past her shoulder. “It’s a beautiful day—you kids have a nice time.”
Charles smiled, obviously relieved. He turned to Piggy eagerly, clasping her hand in his free one. Piggy took one step forward and looked at Kermit.
“Did you need something, Kermit?”
“No,” Kermit said quickly. “I just wanted to tell you that we’ll be filming on location by the lake tomorrow.” I thought maybe we could take a picnic.
“I’ll be ready,” Piggy said quietly. For a moment, she watched him go, then she took a deep breath, turned back to Charles and allowed him lead her out into the sunshine.

Jealousy brought out some interesting things in Kermit, but patience wasn’t one of them. He pushed Piggy mercilessly at practice that evening, snapping orders, criticizing her form. It did not help that Piggy was having an off night. All the new-found confidence and sereneness she had found earlier in the week seemed to have evaporated, and she despaired of ever getting it right. The more she worried, the less focused she became, and her last set of choreographed moves were well below what she expected of herself.
“What’s wrong with you, Piggy?” Kermit barked irritably. “Do the sequence right for once tonight, won’t you?”
“I’m trying!”
“Then try harder. If we can’t pull this thing together, all of this misery will have been for nothing.”
Finally, Piggy snapped, turning on him angrily. “I can’t!” she cried. “I—it’s too much. I can’t think about what I’m doing now because I’m trying to think about what I’m supposed to be doing next.”
“You’re just not concentrating—“
“Don’t you tell me what I’m doing or not doing!” she flung at him. “How would you know? Let’s see you try to do all these things while somebody’s watching you, waiting for you to mess up!”
Kermit grew quiet, feeling ashamed. “No one’s waiting for you to mess—“
“I hate this! I hate not being good at something!” Piggy shouted, but her voice was almost a wail. Kermit heard the anger in her voice, but the pain came shimmering through. He was very afraid she might cry because—if she did—it would be his fault.
“Piggy—“
She took a ragged breath. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Go find yourself another pig!”
Oh please, Kermit thought suddenly. Let her mean for the movie. The movie had seemed all-important before; now it seemed very low on the scale.
Kermit’s voice was gentle. “Piggy—I don’t want another pig. I just want—“
“Don’t talk to me about what you want!” she shouted. “I want this to be over. I hate not knowing how to do something everyone expects me to know how to do. I hate feeling like I’m not doing it right. I hate—“ she broke off and took a breath that was half sob. “I can’t live up to everybody’s expectations.” She did not say, “I can’t live up to your expectations, but they both knew that’s what she meant. She pushed her streaming hair back from her face with both hands, framing her face for a moment. “I’m tired--tired of having to look perfect and act perfect and be perfect all the time.” She sniffed, looking into the water. “I want everyone to leave me alone.“
Kermit reached out gently and put his arms around her. He was very afraid she might move away, but she did not. It was not meant as a romantic gesture, Kermit told himself firmly—just a desire to connect and comfort, but once his arms enfolded her, Piggy grew still. She looked at Kermit and felt the invisible pull, drowning in it, and gazed at him with longing in her eyes.
“I just want—“ Piggy looked away, unable to go on. Kermit stroked her hair and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, turning her face back up to his. Her blue eyes were full of tears.
An alarm was going off in his head—danger, stop, look out—but Kermit wasn’t listening to it. He was listening to the soft lap of the water against the filter. To Kermit, it sounded like heaven, like childhood, like home. He did not stop to think, didn’t want to think, wanted only….
“Just once,” Piggy said raggedly, “couldn’t you kiss me when the film isn’t rolling?”
Kermit nodded slowly, then he wrapped his arms around Piggy’s shivering form and kissed her until she grew warm and leaned against him. Even then, he couldn’t think of a good reason to let her go.
“I can’t do this,” Piggy said finally, her voice muffled against his chest.
“You can do anything,” Kermit murmured, believing it.
Shakily, Piggy disentangled herself and stepped back--out of touching distance. She put her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, and her voice sounded odd. “But you’re wrong—I can’t. I just—“
“I know, Honey,” Kermit said gently. “I know.”
Honey, she thought. He called me Honey. It had been a long time since he’d done that. Kermit wasn’t thinking bout what he’d said. He was looking into her eyes and seeing something old and new and timeless. Something he wanted—something he’d almost lost. Before he could act, Piggy took another step back.
“I’m so sorry, Kermit” she whispered. “But I just can’t do this.” Piggy got out of the pool. She caught up her towel and duffle as she went, not bothering to dry off, and by the time she reached the gate, she was running.
Stunned, Kermit stood quietly in the moonlight and watched her go. He could still feel the sweet weight of her as she leaned into his embrace, taste the salt and chlorine on her lips. He put both hands over his face. Sheesh, he though miserably. I am so out of my element.

Ooh! So much to say, but I gotta go to bed. I'm graduating tommorow! I'll come back and blather more tommorow, but for now I have to say I like seeing this whole thing from Kermit's perspective. He's so fun when he's jealous, poor bugger.

Oh, and I'm soo excited 'cause you're leading up to that really fun (odd adjective, I realise) argument in GMC where they break character. I can't wait to read what happens next!

Great part, and I'll rave properly later.
Leyla

The show must go on

She did not show up the next morning, and though he was certainly not surprised, Kermit had hoped that her dedication to the work would carry her through. But this time—for the first time—it did not. Although he would have had trouble putting words to it, Kermit was beginning to acknowledge that he had been more than content to let the work take the place of his initiative, at least as far as Piggy was concerned. If he wanted to spend time with her, she was there—always there—at the studio. If he was filming, she was filming. If he wanted to hear her say sweet nothings, all he had to do was script them. Looking back, he wasn’t very proud of himself.
When he arrived on the set, Piggy was her usual self—that is, she was on time, polite, prepared and…aloof. She tap-danced, posed, ran wonderful dialogue with Charles and Diana Rigg and was extra-courteous to the ladies and men trying to tweak her make-up and coiffure. Twice, Kermit had sidled up to her, hoping to talk about what had happened, but she gave him alarmed looks and moved away. After lunch, they would have to do the scene by the lake—the scene he had been dreading all morning. How hypocritical of me, he thought more than once. Kermit had happily mined their private lives—and the lives of all their friends—for good material, but this one was awfully close to home for him. He didn’t know how it was going to play. As if sensing his black mood, his friends gave him a wide berth. Even Fozzie, who shot him anxious mother-hen looks from the sidelines, did not crowd him that day.
Peter Falk, always professional and always a pleasure, had arrived on the set early that morning. He joked with Fozzie and had been well-cared for by Scooter and Rizzo. Gonzo seemed to consider him a kindred spirit, and they had passed the time with intense, hand-gesticulating conversations that ended in chuckles and head-nodding. Like many other stars who had guested, Mr. Falk had looked forward to being introduced to Miss Piggy. Kermit sucked it up and did his duty, but he need not have worried. Piggy greeted their guest graciously and talked with warmth and insight about Mr. Falk’s distinguished career. At one point, Piggy had even tucked her hands under both their elbows and joked about being “a sucker for a man in a trench coat.” This was said with a gentle look in Kermit’s direction, and Kermit felt himself begin to relax, to relent just a little. When Piggy volunteered to take over hosting duties so Kermit could get ready for the afternoon shoot and tend to three-thousand details demanding his attention, he accepted gratefully and left them chattering.


“Hey you! Well, well, well—if it isn’t the fake Lady Holiday.”
“Hellooo!” This would be easier, Kermit thought viciously, if she didn’t look to darn cute. Darn that cute hat and those big blue eyes.
“Hello? Last night you never even said good-bye!”
“Oh, Kermit, that was just…silliness.” She laughed nervously.
“Yeah, but you lied to me—you used me.”
“Oh Kermit, please let me explain. Kermit, my name is Miss Piggy and I really am a model. I only lied because I—I wanted to be with you.”
“Oh yeah—I saw the way you were dancing with that guy last night.”
“Oh Kermit!”
“Let me tell you something. You’re dancing partner happens to be a jewel thief. What do you think of that?”
Piggy gasped. Her face was a picture of surprise and delight. “You’re jealous!”
“I am not!” What a liar I am, Kermit thought, and it somehow fueled his annoyance instead of abating it.
“You are! You are, you are, you are, you are!”
He groaned, then turned and stomped away.
“Oh Kermit, I’m sorry. Oh please, please don’t go, Kermit—please! Please, please, Please!”
“Piggy—Piggy, hold it!” Sheesh—she certainly sounds convincing. “Piggy—Piggy, you’re overacting!”
That was most definitely not in the script. The shock on her face was almost worth it. Piggy looked as though he’d said something rude about her mother.
She stepped back from him. “What!?”
The film crew were looking at each other in astonishment. Scooter was flipping script pages uselessly, finally staring in mute amazement as their two stars proceeded to have a knock-down drag-out argument while the cameras were rolling. After a moment, a blank look from Scooter and no further direction from anyone remotely in charge, the techies shrugged and returned to their equipment.
“Piggy, you’re over-acting. You’re hamming it up.” Kermit did not feel sorry—he felt empowered. Hah! Take that you Jezabel!
“I am not! I am trying to save this movie.” You of all people ought to know how hard--
“Oh, yeah? Well, save your performance instead.”
“I—I am playing 800 different emotions!” Piggy sputtered. Unlike some uptight, tight-
“Yeah? Well, try to play one of them right!” Kermit flung.
Piggy looked daggers at him. How dare you, she glared at him. How dare you! “Oh! Oh! I have a career of my own—“ I’m here because I want to be, buster.
“I know all about your career, pig!” I know you could leave me at any time.
“I do not need some lousy duck pond!”
Personal foul! Kermit thought. “I’m sure you don’t need some lousy duck pond!” Kermit shouted.
“Maybe I’ll just walk!” She was shaking with rage.
“Yeah? Sure--go ahead and walk! Just—“ Just leave me—I knew you’d leave me one day, heart-broken and alone and--
“Well, maybe I will walk—“ Her back was to him, but Kermit heard a sniffle. All his rage leaked out of him as suddenly as a balloon deflating. He felt awful. He was a terrible amphibian. He was a bad frog.
“Piggy, listen—“
“I’m doing my best.” She was crying. Kermit felt like crying too, but directors don’t usually have the luxury. He put a gentle hand on the small of her back.
“I know you are. Piggy, I’m sorry.” She didn’t move away from his hand, but he felt like she wanted to. “Uh, we gotta get back to the movie, though.” How lame…
“Oh all right.” She lifted her head, pulling her professionalism around her like a shield. “Okay, okay." Her features were veiled, her eyes blank to him. "Kermit, I’m sorry I left you last night…at the night club.”
“Um, well, it’s okay, Piggy.” It was not okay—you broke my heart, again.
“Oh Kermie.”
“Oh, Piggy.”
Mercifully, the cameras stopped. Kermit looked around. The cast and crew were so surprised they couldn’t even pretend to not be eavesdropping.
“Um, can you give us a moment here, guys?” Kermit asked.
Still, they stared in various states of slack-jawed amazement until Scooter shook himself out of his reverie and began to literally shoo people away.
Piggy stood up, not looking at him, and started for the park bench. Afraid to touch her, Kermit matched her stride.
“Piggy, look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened back there. I never meant—“
“You never do.”
Kermit took a step back. He could have handled her anger. He didn’t know how to deal with the defeat in her voice.
“But, Piggy—“
“I would like you to go, please,” Piggy said softly. “I do not want to have this conversation. If you want me to stay for the movie, just go.”
Kermit had a momentary vision of saying, “The heck with the movie—can’t we please just fix this?” He took a step forward. Piggy looked up, her eyes hopeful, but Kermit was a pragmatic frog at heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said fervently, and left her alone.