"Yes, Minion, but what else would she want from us?"
Minion resists the urge to throw both his fins and the robotic suit's arms up in exasperated frustration. The knack Sir has for completely missing the point is really unparalleled.
"Sir," Minion says, "We can't just not kidnap Miss Ritchi; it's tradition!"
"You're the one who suggested that we give her a present," Megamind says, crossing his arms defensively. "What better present than to leave her alone?"
Minion sighs, feeling a headache start behind his left eye.
"What if we made it—voluntary?" he suggests.
"The kidnapping?" Megamind says, sounding incredulous.
"Yes, why not?"
"Voluntary," Megamind says scathingly, "Why would Roxanne ever volunteer to spend time with us? That's sort of the whole point behind kidnapping, Minion. She's a hostage against her will!"
"I think she might surprise you, Sir," Minion says. "She likes us."
"You, Minion," Megamind says. "She likes you. Of course she does, everyone likes you! It's your winning personality; your charm. The catch is, you come with me. We're a package deal, and no one wants the rest of the package!"
Megamind makes a sweeping gesture with both arms, indicating himself, and Minion's disapproval must show in his expression, because Megamind rolls his eyes.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," he says. "You know it's true. I'm not being down on myself; I'm just stating the facts! Fact: you're cute. I'm evil. And since you're stuck with me, well—we just—have to work around the drawback, that's all."
Minion grits his teeth and follows as Megamind—no doubt reading Minion's deepening disapproval in his face and sensing the probability of an impending lecture about not referring to himself as a drawback—turns on his heel and makes for the lab at a brisk pace
Megamind is hindered by the way that he's trying to flee with dignity, though, and Minion keeps pace with him easily.
"But," he says, pushing aside the lecture for now and focusing on the problem at hand, "Sir—she doesn't have any plans at all. Metro Man's mom sent her a card and…that's it, Sir."
Megamind does not answer, busying himself with shrugging into his labcoat and pulling on a battered pair of work boots.
"He's not taking her out to dinner or anything," Minion says.
"Wayne's a shitty boyfriend," Megamind says, then grimaces as he tugs on the last boot. "Lucky for him he's all muscle and beef, elsewise no one would date him at all."
"Her family hasn't called her, either," Minion says, plowing on, determined. "No one's even emailed her. She's all by herself, Sir."
Megamind pauses in the midst of picking up a wrench.
"…you think she'd be," he hesitates, "—sad—then. If we didn't kidnap her."
"Yes, Sir," Minion says, closing his eyes and sending up a brief heartfelt thank you to the universe that Megamind finally seemed to be getting it.
"She'd probably—think we forgot?" Megamind says, tilting his head, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Yes," Minion says, and then pauses, watching Megamind's face.
(careful—have to play this carefully. Birthdays and Miss Ritchi both being such sensitive subjects.)
"We could make it voluntary, Sir," he says, the coaxing in his voice so gentle that it probably doesn't even register consciously with Megamind. "Just—ask her. Maybe? And if she says no, then she says no. What harm could it do?"
Minion flutters his fins in a dismissive gesture, glossing over the possibility that would, in reality, be an utter disaster. Megamind is silent for a moment, poised with the wrench in his hand. Minion counts to three and then goes in for the kill.
"You know what it's like," Minion says, "being alone like that on your birthday."
Megamind is silent for a long moment, and then he puts the wrench down on the work table, dropping his eyes to it and pushing at the handle of it until it lines up parallel with the edge of the table.
"But," he says, voice uncertain, still not raising his eyes, and Minion knows he has him now, "but what would we do with her?"
"We could watch a movie," Minion suggests, trying not to let the triumph and enthusiasm he feels bubble up into his voice. "Or just play a board game? I could make something really special for dinner and we could just—relax, together?"
Megamind looks up at that, eyebrows raised.
"You want her in the Lair?" he says, "I think not. The last thing we need is the nosy reporter snooping through our secrets!"
"Oh, but—"
Minion can tell the moment that it finally clicks for Megamind, and can scarcely stop himself from beaming. Megamind sighs and hides his face with one hand.
"Yes," he says, sounding exasperated and resigned at the same time. "That would be the perfect gift, wouldn't it? What else has Roxanne always wanted, but to get a peek behind the curtain?"
"If she promised not to tell—"
Megamind shoots him a baleful glare through the fingers of the hand that's still covering his face.
"She's a reporter, Minion," he says. "That's what they do. Blab secrets to the whole world."
"But she's Miss Ritchi, Sir," Minion says. "You know if she promised, she'd keep her word."
Megamind is silent for a moment, and then—
"Yes," he said softly, thoughtfully, lowering his hand. "She would, wouldn't she? Hmm…"
He trails off, then suddenly snaps his fingers, spine going straight and green eyes going bright.
"Oh, I know what we're going to do, Minion," he says, edges of his mouth beginning to curl in a smirk.
He steeples his fingers and gives a low, evil laugh, and Minion doesn't know if he should be excited or concerned.
"Yes," Megamind says, "yes, I know exactly what to do for Miss Ritchi."
"I'm—I'm sorry—what?" Roxanne says, voice rising with incredulity.
She eyes Megamind warily from the far side of the kitchen counter, but he doesn't laugh and say he's joking, doesn't lunge for her suddenly. He just—sits there, perched on the edge of her table, poised and still and. It's.
Well, it's honestly unnerving, much more so than anything he's ever done before.
He smiles at her, then, all confidence and wicked delight and Roxanne feels her face go hot and realizes that she's clutching the collar of her bathrobe.
"Evil Queen," he says again, "for a day. No strings attached, no pressure, no obligation. Well—one string."
"—ah?" Roxanne manages to say.
"A promise," he says, "not to reveal any—secrets—which you might uncover today. And in return, Minion and I will agree to keep quiet about letting you try on the crown."
His smile widens, sharpens, and Roxanne swallows hard.
"What do you say, Miss Ritchi?" he says, voice low and silky. "Care to have a little taste of evil?"
Roxanne's eyes go wide.
"Wh—uh—why?" she says, feeling her blush sweeping down from her face over her neck.
"Why should you accept?" he asks, still in that soft, seductive voice. "Because it's your birthday. And I think you'll enjoy it."
"No—I mean," Roxanne makes a valiant effort to pull herself together. "Why—why are you offering?"
What on earth is he trying to accomplish here; what's the angle he's trying to play; there has to be one, she knows there does, and she'd be able to figure it out if he would just stop smouldering at her like that—
Megamind shrugs, a ripple of movement in the silk of his cape and does not look away from her.
"Because it's your birthday," he says. "And I think you'll enjoy it."
He slides off the edge of the table then, graceful and fluid, and stalks towards her, and Roxanne can barely stop herself from taking a step back. Megamind doesn't try to come around the counter and trap her, though, the way she's half hoping he's going to do—at least then she could run and he could chase her, and that would be familiar, would be safe. Instead, he stops on the other side of the counter and leans his forearms on it, bending forward, still smiling.
"I think," he says, "that you won't be satisfied with just a taste. I think you'll want more."
Roxanne feels a sudden wave of lightheadedness and heat and—well, she's not going to categorize what the third thing is, but it's something sharp and fierce, something with claws in it.
(is he—is he actually—)
((is he coming on to her?))
"I—um," she says, "what—is this going to entail. Exactly?"
(Megamind's eyes flash, sees his lips curl even more wickedly, and Roxanne realizes with a flip of her stomach and another rush of heat to her cheeks that she's phrased this question as if she's already accepted the offer and when did Megamind get so good at throwing her off her game; when did he figure out how to push her buttons so easily, so—)
"I'm going to show you the Lair," he says. "And how I run the underworld—if this were a more permanent arrangement, I could take you around the city and show you in person. But there's no guarantee someone won't talk if you're seen with me like that, and fair is fair. I won't risk your reputation. And…"
Megamind's smile goes softer, and his voice goes soft again as well, inviting, promising.
"I'll answer any questions you ask," he adds.
"—I'll go get dressed," Roxanne says, too quickly for her to pretend indifference and Megamind smiles at her again, a wicked, pleased-with-himself smirk with that edge of—of—
—and Roxanne—
Roxanne narrows her eyes in sudden understanding because this, this is what the game today is, isn't it? this—flirtation; he's trying to fluster her.
Well.
Two can play at that game, and Roxanne is damn well not going to let Megamind gain the upper hand here; he'll be smug about it forever.
She lets her hand fall from her robe's collar, oh-so-casually managing to brush the material so that it parts a little bit more, then bends forward, leaning on the counter too.
Megamind's eyes drop down to the now scandalously low neckline of her robe before jerking back up to hers, and Roxanne sees a slight tinge of lavender-pink come into his cheeks and oh, he has no idea what he's in for.
"What would you like me to wear for you, Megamind?" she asks sweetly.
"It—um—it doesn't matter," he says, stumbling over his words for the first time since he unexpectedly appeared in her kitchen. "Minion has—uh—he has outfits? For you to choose from?"
"Mmm," Roxanne says, "so you don't have any special requests? Anything in particular you'd like to see me in?"
"Um," Megamind says, and then gulps, actually gulps, visibly, audibly, and yes, oh yes, Roxanne is going to enjoy this.
"Where did all these come from?" Miss Ritchi says, staring at the expanse of Minion's sewing room, and Minion anticipated that she would ask this question, already has his answer ready.
"Well, I design and create all of Sir's outfits, but there really isn't quite enough scope to that, you know?" he says, without a single ripple in his calm, cheerful demeanor. "Sometimes I need to do something a little more stimulating. And your figure dresses well, Miss Ritchi; it's going to be a pleasure to finally do it for real!"
"Oh," Miss Ritchi says, looking taken aback, utterly caught off guard by the compliment. "Um. Thank you? I mean—my body's kind of weirdly shaped, I know, and I don't exactly…have the best sense of fashion…"
She laughs, self-conscious and uncomfortable and Minion feels a sharp little pang at how lost she looks, how very obviously minion-less she is and
oh.
oh dear.
So that's why—all those times he showed up at her apartment to kidnap her and he's had to remind her that she wore that dress for the last kidnapping, Miss Ritchi and you're ah—wearing two different colors of socks, and lets be sure to remember this time that you need to put on shoes before we go and—
"Oh, no, Ma'am," he says, moving sideways in his glass dome in a motion he knows bipeds equate with him shaking his head. "No, there's no problem with your figure. Or your fashion sense. The only thing you're lacking is confidence!"
Miss Ritchi makes a face that's almost identical to the one Megamind made the first time that Minion suggested that he wear a cape.
"If you say so," she says, sounding unconvinced.
"Right!" Minion says, and quickly rolls on with the conversation, hoping to head off any possibility of her launching into something like the ten minute monologue of self-critique Megamind went into, post cape-suggestion. "So what kind of an effect are you aiming for, Ma'am?"
She looks over at him, then, sharply, color staining her cheeks.
"Um," she says. "I—I don't know…"
And Minion can hear in her voice that she's lying about not knowing what she wants, that she's just holding herself back from telling him.
"All right," he says, as if he has no idea that she's lying about not knowing what she wants, no idea that she's just holding herself back from telling him for some reason. "Well—you're going to be moving around quite a bit, so nothing too heavy—" He works quickly, efficiently, moving clothes on the racks as he talks. "And I don't think you want anything too much like your ordinary clothes, so we'll skip looking at the casual and professional pieces—I don't think this is an occasion that calls for a formal gown, so we'll set those aside…"
"Oh, but—" Miss Ritchi cuts herself off.
Minion glances over at her—she's standing next to one of the formal gowns he moved out of the way, hands held behind her back, like a child afraid of getting caught reaching for something they weren't allowed to have. Under his inquiring gaze, her face flushes again and she glances guiltily at the dress nearest to her, one of the formal gowns, a deep blue, silky thing.
"This one?" Minion asks.
"Oh," Miss Ritchi gives a little laugh. "I mean—it's lovely but—it's too formal. Right?"
Minion smiles at her, toothy reassurance. He'd been hoping she'd pick the Blue Viper.
"Oh, I think we can make this one work, Ma'am," he says.
It only takes Minion about ten minutes, but when he's done altering the gown Roxanne liked so much, it's—well, it's not exactly like a dress, and definitely not anything like anything Roxanne has ever worn before.
He has her put on a layer of black, first: a sleeveless, tight black shirt and a pair of black pants which cling tightly to her body. Then the not-exactly-a-dress. It fastens around her neck with a wide metal collar of silver filigree, and the black undershirt means that the neckline of the blue silk gown which plunges so deeply merely teases, and reveals nothing.
More blue silk wraps around her waist. When she first steps into the gown, it the folds of the drapery fasten together with a silver filigree clip halfway up her left thigh, leaving a modest slit up the side of the skirt. Minion moves the clip up, so that the gown fastens above her left hip, and the fabric falls away in a way reminiscent of a long asymmetrical coat, rather than a formal gown's skirt.
Roxanne stares at herself in the mirror. It's—she looks—
"Here you are, Ma'am," Minion says cheerfully, handing her a pair of black leather boots with a low heel and a pair of black leather gloves.
Roxanne turns gratefully away from her reflection to pull them on.
The boots look like Megamind's—she has a suspicion that they actually are his—but the gloves are different from the gloves he wears. Instead of being tight to the skin halfway up her upper arms, they end in a sharp, flared point just below her elbows.
The entire ensemble is…almost disturbingly comfortable, and when Roxanne gathers her courage to face her reflection again, what she sees is disturbing as well.
She looks—well, the outfit looks like it was made for her, and she looks—
A knock at the door.
"Are you finished?" Megamind's voice calls, and Roxanne's heart does a kind of sideways jump.
Instead of allowing herself to dither the way she wants to, though, she draws herself up, spine straight, head up, chin tilted at an angle of challenge.
She has a game to win, after all.
"Come in, Megamind," she says, not an invitation but a command.
There is a pause of several seconds, which Roxanne uses to try to calm her racing heart.
And then the door handle turns.
Roxanne watches in the mirror as Megamind steps into the room, watches his face as he sees her for the first time and—
"—evil gods," he says softly. "Look at you."
—and the tone of his voice and the expression on his face has her heart doing a jittery flip that makes the sideways jump from earlier feel like nothing, but she lifts her chin just a little bit more, schooling her expression into calm, regal confidence.
He crosses the room to stand behind her, and Roxanne realizes she's staring, realizes that she's just about to lose her cool and her advantage here, so tears her gaze away from his reflection in the mirror to look at her own.
And she looks—she looks—
"I have something for you," Megamind says, and her eyes go back to his reflection in the mirror.
He's holding a box, she sees now, and she watches him open it, watches him take out—
"Oh," Roxanne says, more a gasp than a word, wonder and soft shock, which is not at all the tone she's trying to set here, but she's pretty sure she's entitled to a bit of a moment here because—
"Didn't I tell you that you'd be trying on the crown?" Megamind asks, and lifts it up for her to see.
"—I thought you were speaking metaphorically," Roxanne says helplessly.
(neither of them notice when Minion slips out of the room and quietly closes the door.)
Megamind settles the crown on her head, a beautiful, dangerous looking thing of steel and spikes.
"Look," he says, and Roxanne does, again tearing her eyes away from him to look at her own reflection.
And—
And Roxanne—
She looks—
(commanding. powerful. confident.)
((right))
"—I look bad," she blurts out without thinking, and Megamind laughs.
Her eyes jerk guiltily to his in the mirror, but she sees by his expression that he knows exactly what she meant.
"Yes," he says. "Terrifyingly so."
Roxanne gives a breathless laugh, and the supervillain in the mirror laughs, too.
...to be continued.
notes: It's my birthday today! (...well, technically yesterday, since it's after midnight now) And today (/technically yesterday) is also the first day of my hobbit birthday week, which is going to last through the 19th, and during which I'm going to be publishing a chapter of fic a day!
I'm very excited to share this with you all, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Operation: Angler Fish!
I'm really enjoying the writing of this fic in particular; displacerghost actually came up with the idea for it, and wrote the first bit of it, and then asked if I'd like to finish it.
Thank you, my love.