Author's Note: This genuine short story (a rarity for me!) was written as a response for the LJ community's weekly prompt, "Unmentioned Hobbies." It's not actually intended to fit as part of the story arc for all my other Megamind tales, though I suppose it can; it was written just for the prompt, and for the fun of it. Enjoy!
Private Passions
"Okay, so you're telling me your favorite color really is blue. Not because you are blue, but because you thought the sky was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, once they let you outside at the prison."
"Yes, of course. Even I'm not that narcissistic! And I might add that I've recently found new reasons to enjoy it because of a certain lovely lady's eyes."
"All right, all right, I believe you! Stop with the puppy dog eyes already, you know what they do to me!"
Megamind knew perfectly well what they did to her, which was why he used them on her. Dang, but he wished he'd known this a year back, when he was still trying to make his favorite kidnapping victim scream, or at least swoon. Today, however, he was on the right side of the law, a newly minted hero a scarce two months from his first act of true heroism, trying to be as good as he could possibly be while the city tried to decide exactly what they expected of him. And he was also the very new and admittedly not very confident new boyfriend of one Roxanne Ritchi, who had forgiven him all the sins of his past and was willing to make a fresh start with the ex-villain because frankly, they'd been flirting with each other on and off for the last three years, and it was about time they finally settled down to finding out just what the heck they found so irresistibly attractive in one another.
Tonight, the city was quiet, Roxanne was off work for the day, Minion was openly attending his first meeting of the Great Lakes Ichthyological Society, and the still somewhat crowd-shy couple had decided to go out for dinner to a place where they would be left alone to eat in peace and to try to get to know each other better by talking as long as they liked. The little bistro they settled on was in what might have been called the more bohemian part of Metro City, its version of New York's Greenwich Village back at the height of its artsy hippy culture phase. The place was all nooks and crannies and private little booths where one could enjoy food and drink and conversation and not be bothered by other patrons or even by the staff, and it was open well into the wee hours of the morning. Not that the hours were wee just yet, but this particular couple was enjoying the atmosphere and company while they grazed through the variety of appetizers and foods they'd ordered, just to experiment with each other's favorites.
The conversation had somehow wandered into The Basic Things Every Couple Should Know About Each Other Quiz, an article that had showed up recently in a popular local magazine and was the hot topic of conversation around town — hence the current discussion of favorite colors. Megamind had been morally certain Roxanne's was red. She said no, absolutely not, it was blue, but eventually conceded that it had been red, until a certain blue alien had started to make a very positive impression in her life. She, in turn, had been utterly sure that Megamind's favorite color was black, and when he insisted that it was blue — sky blue, not royal blue or electric blue — she'd half expected it, but still wanted an explanation. For someone to like a color just because it happened to be their skin tone seemed a little too vain, even for him.
"I may have to change my mind about my favorite color — again," Roxanne admitted when he finally let up with the blatant manipulation. "I'm beginning to develop a fondness for green — a nice emerald green, to be exact." She batted her eyes back at him, successfully getting in a retaliatory blow for the puppy dog eyes when he visibly melted and let out a little squeak of happiness.
When she grinned, he knew he'd been had and affected pouting for a few moments before going back to munching on his fried cheese to get the taste of her fried calamari out of his mouth. If she'd just told him that it was squid, he would've begged off tasting it with some excuse about allergies. It wouldn't do for him to admit to having a fear of tentacles at this point in their relationship. "All right, so we have that settled. For the time being, we both like blue. Understandably," he preened. "So what else did that silly magazine article say we should know about each other? We've covered favorite foods, favorite drinks, favorite books, favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite music, all the same things we hate the most, secret fears, secret aspirations — honestly, Roxanne, I can't think of anything we've missed! What was the point of that silly article, anyway, to get people who like each other to find reasons to fight?"
"We haven't been fighting," she pointed out.
He snorted. "What do you call what happened when the subject of that country singer you salivate over came up?"
She considered the question. "I'd call it a lively discussion. We're still here talking to each other and there's no blood or dehydrated cubes in sight, are there?"
He had to admit that was true. "No. All right, you have a point. Then we've finished with the quiz, now?" He was ever so hopeful that she'd say yes, since she'd promised that if he humored her with this, they could indulge in a bit of necking, since that was half the reason for all these cozy and dim and private little booths to exist. Not that they wouldn't do it anyway, but he was still terribly new to the pleasures of having a girlfriend, and he liked the anticipation of willing intimacy of any kind like a kid waiting to open his presents at Christmas.
She smiled impishly, well aware of his eagerness. She had to admit, she shared it, but she was also concerned about moving too fast with her blue beau. She wasn't exactly the most experienced of women, but compared to him, she was as jaded as a hooker who'd been hitting the streets for so many years, there was nothing novel about even the most wild and kinky acts two humans could do with or to one another, or with a horse. There was something both extremely attractive and endearingly sweet about his innocence in such matters, no doubt because so much of the rest of his life had been anything but innocent. She thought it was terrible, how his childhood and even his young adulthood had essentially been robbed of the ordinary joys and simple discoveries that came with growing up, and now that he finally had a chance to experience some of the things he'd missed, she was determined to go slow so that he could enjoy them to their fullest.
And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to enjoy them herself, as much as possible. Her first (and last) time in a place like this hadn't gone so well, because her date had been more interested in skipping the hors d'ouvres and the meal itself and going right for the dessert, namely her. There hadn't been anything pleasant about it, not for her, and even though she'd been able to fend him off before he had his way with her, all his promises of a romantic evening had flown right out the window the moment he jumped her and her purse smacked him upside the head hard enough to knock him senseless long enough for her to escape.
Tonight was her first time back to this kind of intimate little hangout, and though she knew Megamind wouldn't act like that bum, she wanted to be sure her little phobia was well and truly gone. Rushing from sitting down to making out wasn't the answer, hence, the extended conversation about the magazine quiz. The alien had been very cooperative, really, and had told her anything she asked, so she didn't think it would be fair to prolong his anticipation much longer.
"Just one last question," she promised. "Hobbies."
The big green eyes blinked again as his expansive brow furrowed. "Hobbies? What, you mean things like Minion's quilting, or collecting spores, molds, and fungus?"
"Sort of. The article wasn't talking about the obvious ones, though. It thought that for a couple to really know each other, they should know the kinds of private hobbies other people don't know about. You know, like Wayne doing ballet when no one's around to see."
Now, Megamind's eyes became as wide as dinner plates. "Wayne does ballet? You're kidding, right?"
Roxanne shook her head. "But don't you ever mention it to anyone. He always thought ballet dancers were so graceful, and he told me that when he was in high school and hit a big growth spurt, he felt like an ox lumbering around, bumping into things, even though he could float and fly. So he got himself some ballet lessons on tape, and practiced in his hideout under the old schoolhouse. I think he still does it, so he can manage a few dance moves on stage if he ever gets his music career going. But he'd kill me if he knew I told anyone."
"Then I'll keep it a secret," Megamind promised, though he couldn't quite suppress a wicked little smirk. "It might be good to use for blackmail, if I ever need it."
"Don't you dare!" Roxanne scolded, though she was smiling. "That's not why I told you, and remember, you're one of the good guys, now."
He acknowledged that with a small sigh that was only a bit disappointed. Being one of the good guys meant he got the girl — and not any girl, but this girl, the most wonderful female in the universe! "I won't tell a soul," he promised. His voice dropped. "I suppose to be fair, I should let you know Minion's secret hobby — on the same conditions, of course."
"Oh, of course," Roxanne readily agreed, moving closer to her beau as he leaned forward toward her.
When their heads were close, his eyes darted about quickly to make certain no one was near enough to hear, then he conspiratorially whispered, "He collects dolls."
It was Roxanne's turn to blink in wide-eyed disbelief. "Excuse me?"
"He collects dolls," the new hero repeated. "Not Barboo dolls or anything so absurd, but larger ones, those customizable things that're supposed to be a child's companion or mini-clone."
She thought for a moment. "Oh, you mean the My Girl dolls! I had one when I was nine, when my parents started fighting with each other and wanted to bribe me into taking their side. Why would Minion want to collect My Girl dolls?"
Megamind shrugged. "It started when he was learning to make clothes for me. He was learning to use his first decent robot body for sewing, I didn't want him practicing on me, and so he found a broken doll in some trash bin and used it as a mannequin. He got a better one a year or so later, one that still had both arms and legs, and he discovered how many different versions of the doll one could have made. I'm not exactly sure when he started buying them through the mail, but he's got quite a collection, now. And he still makes clothes for them, when he has the time."
The reporter couldn't help but giggle. "Has he made them all costumes like yours?"
"Certainly not!" the reformed villain huffed indignantly, nose in the air. "They only came up with a male version a year ago, and it's not shaped or colored anything like me! He knows better than to insult me that way!"
She relented. "Sorry, I just thought it might be cute. But you're right, without the blue skin and the big bald head and the skinny butt, it wouldn't look right. So," she continued before he could take exception at having his butt called skinny, "we now know Wayne's and Minion's secret hobbies, but what's yours?"
Megamind sat back, looking strangely pale, then cleared his throat. "Ah... Don't you think it's getting late, Roxanne? We don't want the owners to throw us out, it would look bad for both of our images..."
"It's only nine o'clock, and this place doesn't close 'til three. C'mon, Megs, spill it. You've been a supervillain for over twenty years, you're into leather and chrome and spikes and heavy metal, head-banging music, you've come up with some of the most outrageously embarrassing almost-wins in the history of villainy — what's left to feel ashamed of? I won't tease you about it, I promise, not even if it's something really strange and naughty."
Megamind cleared his throat again, sitting in an oddly stiff posture. "I...uh... well, that is...er, I, um... collect stamps."
He said the last two words in such a small voice, she couldn't be sure she'd heard right. In fact, she was almost positive she hadn't. "You... collect stamps? Is that what you said?"
He nodded rapidly, cheeks and ears flushed purple with embarrassment. "Yes, that's what I said, I collect stamps. Isn't that secret and humiliating enough for you? The great and magnificent and incredibly handsome genius Megamind collects stamps as a hobby. What were you expecting, whips and chains and the rack and thumbscrews?"
"Well... actually, yeah, kinda," his girlfriend admitted sheepishly. "You project more of that sort of image, you know. But stamp collecting? That's for nerds with thick glasses who like to spend their time in their mother's basement, sifting through old grab bags looking for that half-pence special issue from Bermuda to complete their collection. I didn't think you were into stuff like that. Sorry if it seemed like I was making fun of you, really, I didn't mean to."
Megamind maintained his stiffly mortified posture for a little bit longer, then relaxed. "Apology accepted — if you tell me your secret hobby!"
It was now Roxanne's turn to go still and pale like a deer in the headlights. "Oh, would you just look at the time!" she suddenly blurted out. "You know, I promised my boss I'd be in bright and early tomorrow—"
"Balderdash," her beau said succinctly. "Tomorrow's Saturday, and you're not due in again until Monday. Come, come, my dear, is this any way to teach me everything I should know about fair play and being a hero? This little quiz is supposed to be for both of us to answer, not only one."
She couldn't argue with that. She groaned softly as she surrendered. "Fine. I... read needlework magazines, okay? That's the private hobby I don't tell anyone about."
Megamind sounded faintly disappointed. "That's not what I would call something worth keeping secret..."
"And stamp collecting is?"
He coughed. "I guess I can see your point. The famous Roxanne Ritchi is known for being a hard-hitting reporter, not for indulging in typically feminine pointless pastimes that she doesn't even do. You don't, do you?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.
"No, I don't," she confirmed. When he didn't push for anything more, she sighed softly, relieved. "Okay, enough with the compatibility quizzes for today, agreed?"
He nodded eagerly, clearly willing to abide by the truce. "Are we leaving, then?"
From the way his expression seemed to tremble, Roxanne knew what he was thinking, and she smiled. "Not yet. C'mere, Mr. Superhero, there's still the matter of a little reward I promised to give you..."
By the time they left around eleven, Roxanne was over her phobia with bohemian bistros, and Megamind had a happy understanding of some of the finer points of how to tastefully (but satisfyingly) make out with your girlfriend in a semi-private corner of a quaintly underlit little restaurant.
After he'd seen Roxanne home, the recently reformed villain headed back to his no-longer-evil Lair, in a much better mood than he'd been around nine, when that stupid question about hobbies came up. He hadn't exactly lied when he'd given Roxanne his answer, but he'd been completely aware that he'd danced around the truth.
After parking the hoverbike, he headed up to the living quarters. He'd planned to just take a shower and then head to bed, especially when he noticed that Minion was already back from his meeting and had gone to power down and sleep for the night. But when he was in his bedroom, sitting on a bench near the bed and tugging off his boots, his eye happened upon the large nondescript box half-hidden in the shadows of the bottom shelf of the bookcase nearby. It was really too late for this, but... Well, just a minute or two wouldn't hurt.
He took the box to the nearby dressing table, sat down, and lifted the cover. On top was a stack of assorted papers, and underneath that was his stamp collection.
Rubber stamps. Of all kinds of sizes and shapes, some simple little lightning bolts and letters, others big, complex dragons and robots and all sorts of strange creatures and objects, even a few of such silly things as unicorns. It was a work of art, that particular stamp, really it was, a majestic creature with a wicked spike on its forehead. Okay, so he had to admit, the ill-fated Equestrinator had been inspired by that stamp, but why nobody else could see how he'd changed it into a glorious thing of Evil...!
Well. All right, it had been a flawed plan from the start. But the stamp was still beautiful, just like the T-Rex one, and the big one that could be used to stamp dinosaur tracks all over Minion's dome while he was sleeping...
No, no, no! he scolded himself, he wouldn't do that to Minion — not tonight, anyway. Maybe tomorrow. He was about to put the things back into the box, to be the grown-up hero he was supposed to be, when he hesitated, seeing the pad of black sparkly ink he'd picked up during one of their "shopping sprees" while he'd been the city's Evil Overlord. He should really take it back to the store, should behave like a good guy...
Ah, heck.
Unable to resist, he spilled the contents of the box on the table and was soon happily playing with his little toys, making wild and giddy works of totally silly art like any kid who knew how to live in the moment and let go. He'd go back to that store tomorrow and pay for the ink. And maybe pick up those totally cool stamps he'd heard they'd recently made of him and Minion and the brainbots and the Megablimp... Oooh, yes, and there were all those colorful paints and inks and glittery stuff to be used for embellishment, he'd seen Martha Stewart showing people just how to use them on TV (but why did she have to have that awful last name...?). If he just nipped some of the bigger paper that Minion used for making his costume sketches from his workroom when the fish wasn't looking, he'd have a canvas big enough to come up with something totally wicked...
Respect as a hero, a beautiful girlfriend, and a box full of artsy stuff to have fun with when he just needed to relax at the end of the day. Really, could life get any better?
After being dropped off on her own balcony — one of the benefits of having a boyfriend with a flying bike, she could skip the looks she got from the doorman and other tenants when Megamind escorted her to her front door — Roxanne dropped her purse and jacket on the living room couch and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. Really, what had she been thinking when she'd brought up the stupid question about secret hobbies? She'd been curious to hear Megamind's answer, that was only natural, but she had to have been out of her mind to even entertain the notion that he wouldn't ask her right back! And this just wasn't something she was ready to tell anyone about, not even him — hell, especially not him, not yet. She... just wasn't ready to reveal that part of her.
It hadn't been a complete disaster, she mused while she luxuriated in the hot shower and enjoyed the pleasant scent of the bodywash. He'd accepted the diversion, and the rest of the evening had gone wonderfully well. For someone who'd never had a girlfriend and who'd had nothing in the way of positive physical contact since he'd been sent to safety by his parents, Megamind was living up to his claim of being a quick learner, especially since in this, he always put her before his own wants and needs. She'd never had a boyfriend who'd done that, especially not when there was any form of sexual contact beyond mere hand-holding involved — and even that had been known to get out of hand and into places no self-respecting girl let a guy's hands go on their first date! No, despite having been a villain and an Evil Overlord only two months ago, Megamind was polite and gentlemanly and willing to do anything to make Roxanne happy and keep her in his life.
It kinda made a girl think she could rule the universe, and it felt damn good.
But oh, was she ever glad she'd managed to think of a way out of the corner she'd stupidly painted herself into back in the restaurant! She didn't want to outright lie to Megamind; it was no way to set an example for him while he was trying so hard to be honest and good. And she hadn't, thank God — not exactly. She hadn't made him jump to any conclusion, though she admittedly hadn't stopped him when he'd leapt off that cliff.
Sighing as she stepped out of the shower and toweled off, Roxanne decided that she'd come clean about this soon — just not right now. She'd just recently learned some things about Megamind, about what made him squeamish and uncomfortable, and she wasn't going to test their new relationship by throwing this into the mix, not yet. It wasn't important, really. These were just pictures, and she had no intention of ever acting on the interest.
But when she settled down on her bed, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, ready to do a little light reading before going to sleep, she couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit guilty. She pulled out her latest copies of Needles and Ink and Tattoo Digest, admiring the picture of the guy on the latter cover with half of the Bayeux Tapestry on his broad back. It was Art, really it was, as were all the fascinatingly intricate images of full-colored tattoos displayed throughout the magazine. And though she couldn't stand the thought of being pricked by needles so many times any more than Megamind could, it didn't hurt for a girl to look, did it?
Fin