"Ricky!"

Ricky groaned and put down the newspaper he had vainly been trying to read only a couple of minutes ago. He had been hoping that Kit would stay at her parents' long enough for him to find the article he needed for his research paper, but clearly they had enough of her for the day and decided to let her loose on her own household yet again.

"Rick-eee, dahling!"

Kit's newly adopted falsetto stretched out his name and reached a few octaves before dropping into a sultry murmur. Dear God, her mother must have been letting her watch old movies again. Now he would have to endure movie siren imitations for the rest of the night. Could this get any worse?

In any case, Ricky was sure now that the peace and quiet was officially over. He sighed, closing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose, before calling out in a forcedly cheerful voice, "Yes, Kit? What's wrong?"

There was silence for a moment. Ricky waited nervously, wondering whether or not the silence was a good or bad sign, and then sighed with relief when she finally called back, "Have you seen my pair of red heels?"

Ricky sighed. She had bothered him for this?

"What pair of red heels?"

Heaven only knew how many pairs of shoes his wife actually owned. Most of her heels were presents from her overly doting mother. Kit didn't wear them in public---rather, she'd wanted to a few times, but Ricky had prevented her, simply because of the fact that he didn't want a tantrum when after an hour or so, her toes began to hurt. So instead, she liked to play dress-up sometimes, when she was in what Ricky affectionately called her "little princess" mood.

Ricky personally found the little princess mood adorable, as long as it wasn't bratty little princess mode. It sort of reminded him of the daughter that he wanted, and hopefully would have, as soon as he got the guts to talk to Kit about having children. She would probably be delighted, knowing his Kitty, but something in him kept warning him to wait and see...so, he did.

"I don't know which pair you're talking about, Kit," Ricky called back, at first with all intention to ignore her and continue on with his life, and then self-disgustedly throwing down his newspaper, standing up and walking in the direction of Kit's voice.

"Of course you know which pair," she accused, her voice echoing off the walls from the master bedroom of their apartment. "You were the one who bought them for me last month, remember?"

"Which time last month?"

Kit and Ricky went mall walking at least twice a week...and at least one of those times, Kit would see something she really liked and throw such a tantrum for it that Ricky had no choice but to buy it for her before she embarrassed both of them to an extent that they could never enter the mall again.

Of course, Dr. Mason didn't approve. She insisted that giving in to Kit's frequent crying fits only made it worse and that Ricky ought to grow a backbone and stand up to his wife.

Ricky didn't see it as not having a backbone. He was just the type of guy who couldn't see his wife cry without feeling as though it was all his fault. He'd made her cry, that day when she ran out of the house and into their car with all her worldly belongings in an old duffel bag, and look at what had happened then. Ever since then, he'd promised himself never to make her cry again, and if maxing out his credit card was the way to do it, well so be it.

Kit wasn't always difficult when it came to shopping. Just yesterday, when she'd seen a dress in Macy's that was way out of Ricky's price range, she'd very peacefully allowed him to take her out of the mall, without even a quarrel.

Kit's words came back to Ricky, warming him: "I don't need the dress...I have you, don't I?"

He sighed and smiled, lifting a hand to touch where her lips had kissed his hairy-covered cheek...

"Rick-eee! I still can't find them!"

But her sweet moods never lasted for long before imperious Princess Katherina came out to play. Ricky sighed, closing his eyes and, for once in a long time, longing for his bachelor days, before grasping the doorknob and opening the door to their bedroom.

Little Kitty sat in a heap of her clothing in front of a obviously ravished closet, her wild blonde hair standing up in spikes on top of her head. She had changed out of the blue sweater and pair of jeans she had worn when her father had picked her up earlier, and into a long flowing peach nightgown. She turned her distressed eyes up to her husband.

"I wanted to wear them to the airport to greet Mother," she pouted as Ricky knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms. "I thought she would like it, seeing as she's always saying how short I am compared to you. Hannah's so much taller than me."

Ricky's heart gave a painful squeeze. All Kit had ever wanted, even before the accident, was to be accepted by Donna Farr as another daughter, just as Ricky's sister-in-law Jenna had.

Donna was not fond of Kit, seeing as she had been trying to force a marriage between Ricky and her friend's daughter, the aforementioned Hannah, just months before Ricky and Kit's dramatic elope. The aftermath of the accident on Kit's state of mind only made the family situation worse.

Even now, she tried to throw wedges in their relationship, pulling Ricky back towards Hannah. She didn't seem to realize how deep his love for Kit ran, and how difficult it would be for anything---if anything---to drive them apart.

"I like you short," was all he said, simply, rubbing his nose against hers to make her give him a small smile. "You get to sit on my lap that way, remember?"

And make me feel like some sort of sick pedophile, he thought to himself, looking down into those sweet, innocent eyes. One lady had actually nearly beaten him up once at the cinema when Kit had insisted on sitting on his lap during the previews, when the lights were still on. She had taken Kit for a young girl and Ricky for some gross-minded relative, and it was only after Kit spoke up in her husband's defense and showed her driver's license that she'd left them alone.

Kit giggled and pressed her cheek against his.

"I like it when I sit in your lap."

"I know you do," he murmured back gently, kissing her head and then letting her back on the floor. "I do too. That's one of the good things about being short. You don't see Jenna on Trevor's lap, do you?"

Kit giggled again, and shook her head.

"No, that would look really silly!"

"It would," Ricky agreed, briefly allowing his mind to fondly picture his jolly, rather on the chunky side, sister-in-law practically squishing his thin-as-a-rail brother in an attempt to sit on his lap. "Now, forget about the heels. Just wear something nice. We have lots of time before we have to pick her up, anyway."

Assured and cheerful once again, Kit began to hum as she pulled out more clothes on the floor. Ricky watched fondly as she tried to decide between two of her favorite hoodies, finally picking the sunshine yellow one embellished the words, "DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL", and a pair of khaki capris, despite the fact that it was 50 degrees outside.

He had managed to keep her from self-deprecating herself, for now, but he was worried about what would happen when his mother came. He had the sneaking suspicion that some unpleasant surprise was coming for him. You could never tell with Donna, and the fact that she was coming so suddenly ("to see her beloved son and dear, sweet little Katherina") was even more worrisome.

But somehow, as Kit plopped fully dressed on his lap and insisted on him brushing out her wet hair, he couldn't find it in him to frown as she reached up and kissed the top of his nose. She was just too cute, and that was enough to assure him that one way or another, just looking at her face would keep him alive when his mother finally arrived.