Work Text:
“So,” Kermit said, “We’re really doing this.”
He and Miss Piggy sat on the steps in front of his house, watching the setting sun over the hills. The air was hot, and the sky shone with the brilliance of the air pollution from the city catching the final rays of the day. She was dressed down, he noticed, not her usual resplendent self. He wondered if she had done that for him, or for herself. It hardly detracted from her beauty either way. She sighed, eyes shifting to him from the horizon.
“Yes, Kermie. We really are.”
He gulped heavily. In a way, he knew, it had been a long time coming. She was a river of passion, and he loved to be swept up in it, but sometimes he needed his feet on solid ground. Frogs were semi-aquatic, after all. It was the quiet that surprised him. Looking back, maybe it shouldn’t. Piggy was always bright and bold and loud, one for dramatics and over the top performances. It was what made her a star. Shining above the people.
Passion was what defined their relationship, usually hers. They clashed, together, apart, together again. She would spin off on some mad solo venture, take a string of high profile lovers, he would throw himself into his work, ignore his personal life and just make good quality content for the folks at home. God, they had come so far from the dinky sketches of their early days. He could still remember his first acting gig, some stupid commercials for coffee. And now, he was a household name! And so was she.
She had always known they would end up here, even if he had doubted at times. “I’m made for much more than daytime television!” she would huff, pushing him to take on bigger ideas, bigger guests.
“What’s wrong with daytime television?” he would reply, harried, “Look at what the Street kids have got going!”
“We’re not THEM, Kermie! We’re US! And they’ll always be family, but we can do even MORE!”
More. She was always hungry for more, except with him. She was so besotted back then, even when he was awkward and embarrassed and pushed her away, citing work and his own lack of interest in sex in an attempt to see her go, but no. She’d smiled at him, so gently, told him it was fine, that it didn’t matter to her, because she loved him. He was the best frog she’d ever known, and didn’t she deserve the best? He’d laughed and wrapped a thin green arm around her.
He did so again now. Piggy sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder and returning the embrace. He swallowed again, face scrunched up in confusion as he tried to find the right words.
“I guess you’ll want the ring back, huh?”
Jokes. Humor was always his forte, though he usually played the straight man. She had picked out the rings, after all. And proposed. And arranged the wedding. She had done most of everything, hadn’t she? He had warned her when he agreed that he wasn’t really interested in a big wedding, or a wedding at all really. She hadn’t been bothered, she liked taking the lead anyways, and he had work. Always had work.
She smiled at him, sadly.
“That thing’s worth a small fortune. Save it. You can pawn it when your life hits rock bottom without me.”
More jokes.
“Does this mean you’re quitting the show?”
“Kermie, what show? We haven’t done anything more than bit roles and cameos in years. And I would never quit the Muppets, you know that.”
He hadn’t, actually. Not for sure. The Muppets were his life work, everything he had, but Piggy? Piggy had always excelled at whatever she threw herself into. Fashion. Reporting. Modeling. Acting. She could be anything she wanted, and she had been. Though looking back, she’d always come back, hadn’t she? Even at the height of her success in other venues. He’d thought that it was for him. And it probably was, but then, she’d been a part of this almost since the beginning. He’d been selfish, conceited to think that the only thing keeping her there was his own admittedly often halted attention. She wasn’t shallow, he knew that, but looking back he knew he sometimes treated her as such.
The fault for this hardly lay at his own green felted feet, he knew. She would push and provoke and trample anything that got in her way. She could be difficult to work with, and an emotional maelstrom. At home AND on set. There were times they fought like the animals they were. Kermit winced in reflection at some of their larger arguments. Still, almost 45 years had passed since their first meeting, and there had been love the whole way through.
There was love even now, as they sat together, silently, watching the day end. Cinematic, to end their relationship at the end of the day. Perhaps she’d even planned it that way. It wouldn’t shock him. It was the lack of dramatics, actually, that told him this was it. This was real. She wasn’t dressed to the nines loudly sweeping out, declaring he would rue the day. She wasn’t sobbing, or screaming. No. She had quietly sat down with him at dinner, dressed in jeans and a blouse, and started talking.
He listened.
He started talking.
She listened.
By the end of it, they were both in agreement. It may have been the most civil conversation they had ever had.
“If we, uh. After. After we do this. I had thoughts. For a production of Pygmalion. You would be Eliza, and we would call it-”
“Pigmalion. It’s a good idea, though accents are not moi’s specialty,”
He nodded.
“We could play into that, maybe.”
She smiled. Work was more comfortable than feelings.
“And you can always come visit me in Paris. The doorman knows your face, of course.”
He laughed, a dry hoarse attempt. He swallowed again, just to check his throat was working.
“You’re one of my best friends, Pigathia.”
“And you’re mine, Kermit. But if you ever call me by my first name again, I’ll bury you in divorce court.”
She brushed her snout against his cheek, and something settled. He wouldn’t lose her. He didn’t need to be scared. This was for the best, and they would both grow on, absent of each other. He took a deep breath as the first stars twinkled into view.
“Well,” He murmured, standing, “I’ll call Alan to draw up the paperwork.”
Piggy smiled.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “It’s late, and it’s going to be a beautiful night.”
He nodded. It was.