“Comfy?” Piggy growled out of the corner of her mouth.
“Um, not really,” Kermit admitted, but it was hard to say if his discomfort was more physical or anticipatory. Sitting in a big candy cane while posing for a group of photographers may sound charming—albeit sticky—and it was not the most comfortable place to be, but it was nothing compared to the place that Kermit expected to find himself in once the photographers were done with them and he found himself alone with Piggy.
“Um, Piggy,” Kermit said with what he hoped was a debonair smile. “I thought maybe you and I could go out after this, catch a bite to eat, go dancing….”
Piggy continued to smile charmingly at the cameras, but her lips pulled back slightly from her teeth.
“Dancing! If I ever get out of here, it will be a miracle if Moi can even walk!”
Kermit subsided nervously.
“A little bigger smile from you, Mr. the Frog,” one of the photographers suggested, camera clicking. “Um, Miss Piggy—maybe a little less from you?” Piggy lowered the wattage on her smile and the photographer groaned with pleasure. “Beautiful!” he insisted. He circled them like a panther stalking prey, wielding his camera like a weapon as he clicked and clucked and made entirely too many comments about Piggy’s physique to suit Kermit.
“Incredible!” he cried, “just—just a little bit to the--oh! Perfect!”
Piggy murmured something, her voice low and teasing and the photographer laughed and stopped clicking. He stepped forward and brushed the hair out of Piggy’s face, tucking a loose strand of silky blond hair back beneath her Santa hat.
“Thank you, Claude,” Piggy said sweetly.
Claude? Kermit craned around on his perch to see what was happening behind him. Although he and Piggy were both facing forward, Piggy was sitting somewhat side-saddle-ish on the large green-and-white artificial confection, which meant that she could turn and face the back of the room with relative ease. She was doing that now, smiling at the overly helpful photographer and giggling at something the man had said. Kermit looked around determinedly to see what was soooo very funny and overbalanced. He grasped the handle of his giant candy cane, holding on for dear life while it twisted drunkenly on its wires.
He had succeeded in becoming the center of attention, but wasn’t enjoying it as much as he thought he would. Piggy turned and looked at him coolly, her eyes saying plainly, “Nice try” before she turned away from him again. Several of the other photographers rushed to Kermit’s rescue, leaving Piggy to swing her feet in her cute little red boots and flirt with Claude. Kermit fumed and tried to be gracious while they readjusted him on his perch and straightened his hat, which had slipped over one eye.
Eventually Claude went back to join the other photographers, where they consulted in low tones for several minutes.
Kermit shot Piggy a sulky look.
“What’s with you and that photographer?” he demanded.
Piggy’s mouth fell open in surprise, then her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Claude is a professional. Vous are being ridiculous,” she said huffily.
“Well you looked pretty cozy a minute ago.” Kermit said snidely.
“Cozy?” Piggy said, her teeth gritted. “Don’t talk to me about cozy. My candy cane is the same size as yours.” She shifted a little in her seat, wincing a little. "And in case you haven't notice, I am--"
"Oh, I noticed all right," Kermit said. "In fact, I think everybody here has noticed--"
"Ooh! For vous’s information, I am doing what I can to speed this little shoot along so we can get out of these things.”
“Unlike some people,” she muttered under her breath.
“Oh yeah? Well for your information, this is not the most comfortable thing I’ve ever done either.”
“At least your flippers aren’t asleep.”
“Maybe if you weren’t swinging your legs so much—“
Piggy made a strangled sound of fury, causing the photographers to turn around and look for the source of the noise. Piggy smiled at them and batted her eyelashes, and they shrugged and went back to their discussion.
“I was trying to get my blood flowing,” Piggy hissed.
Kermit gave an annoyed little shrug. “Well it almost worked. Somebody’s blood is certainly—“
“When I get down from this thing—“
“If we ever get down from these things—“
“Vous are so—“
“Miss Piggy? Mr. the Frog? I think we’re done here. You guys were great.”
Piggy and Kermit exchanged hasty glances. It was one thing to snipe back and forth when they were trapped in place, unable to fulfill any of the threats, but to find themselves suddenly free to do what they wanted was a little disconcerting.
Kermit hopped down and hustled over to help Piggy down before any of the others could beat him to the, um, punch. Piggy glared at him for an instant, but it was hard to resist those slim green arms upstretched to her. Carefully, by slow degrees, Piggy unwedged herself from the candy cane and slipped down into Kermit’s waiting arms.
Kermit looked at her, a little sheepish, and kept his arms around her a little longer than was strictly necessary.
“You okay, Piggy?” he asked softly.
“Um, yes,” Piggy said, blushing a little. “I’m—Moi is fine now.”
Still, Kermit did not step back. He smiled at her in what he hoped was an apologetic way.
“How ‘bout that bite to eat, now?” he said. “C’mon, you pick the place.”
Piggy looked a little mutinous, but it was hard to resist the double offer of food and the arguable pleasure of Kermit’s company. She shrugged, indicating acquiescence and Kermit’s face broke into the broad smile.
“Super—we’ll have a nice dinner, dance a little.” He looked at her slyly out of the corner of his eye. “We can split a piece of chocolate fudge cake.”
Piggy shook her head at once. “No thank you,” she said crispy. “I’ve had quite enough candy for one day.”
Kermit laughed, his arm around Piggy’s waist. Take that, Claude. And he could almost swear she leaned against him—just a little—as they made their way back to the changing rooms.