"THE DANCE"
A Kim Possible FanFic
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own jack. Or Kim, or Ron, ect. Disney owns All. On the other hand, if I DID own KP, we might be talkin' about Season Six by now…
"Gnnnn…probably be less grief to just replace the blasted thing…". Drew Lipsky, AKA Doctor Drakken, was seated at the kitchen table of his Rocky Mountain lair. To his left was an unrolled kit of small precision tools. Pressed to his right eye was a jewelers loupe. And directly in front, on a black velvet cloth, sat today's source of irritation.
Drew, as with most men, had a number of passions, largely unfulfilled. First and foremost of these was his quest for "World Domination", a dream which lately had him feeling less a mad scientist and more like Don Quixote. However, only slightly less dear was his pursuit of the perfect slice of toast.
"Top-of-the-line, my…". Removing the loupe, Drew leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms in disgust. After a moment, a thoughtful look crossed his face as he slowly looked upwards. "THAT, however, is interesting."
The rhythmic clicking of heels in the hallway registered in a corner of his mind, alerting Drew to the fact that his sidekick/partner was about to grace him with her presence. Samantha Shea VanGoh, AKA Shego; super-powered meta-human master thief, world class martial artist, drop-dead gorgeous royal pain-in-the-butt…and if Drew were honest with himself, the only real reason he was still in the take-over-the-World biz.
"Doctor D, I'll be…in the…?" Noticing the distracted look on his face, Shego followed her employers' eyes toward the ceiling. It took a couple of seconds for her to realize what she was looking at.
"Umm, Doctor D?"
"Mmm hmm?"
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Yep. It is."
"How did you…"
"I have absolutely no idea."
Imbedded a solid inch into the smooth rock face of the ceiling was a highly carbonized, yet otherwise perfectly intact, slice of rye toast.
No reply seemed to be forthcoming. Rendering Shego speechless was a rare event, indeed. So much so that Drew thought to gloat a bit, even though the cause wasn't, to his knowledge at least, his doing. As he tried to ready a wise-crack worthy of the event, Drew lowered his gaze…and almost swallowed his tongue
"Ulpp! Steady, old boy. I swear, that woman is gonna give me a heart attack one day…"
While Shego's comet-induced pale mint skin tone prevented her from tanning, that didn't stop her from giving it her all. Shego was an avid Sun worshipper, and she was currently dressed for services.
Shego stood in the middle of the kitchen, still staring at the ceiling in disbelief. In her right hand was her tanning "kit"; a folding wicker basket that held her reading materials, a bottle of coconut tanning oil, and a few snacks. Perched on top of her head were a pair of dark sunglasses. Her two-piece swimsuit barely covered the basics…and nothing else. Black with neon green trim, in keeping with her favorite color scheme, of course. A thigh-length wrap of a see-through light green gossamer material, more theory than actual garment, was Shego's only concession to modesty. A matching pair of four inch heels completed the ensemble. It was the heels that tipped Drew off.
"Why heels? Flip-flops would've been just as good around here. What purpose…Ah. Aha. OK, got it. Not today, my girl. Today, the battle is joined!"
"Err…Shego? What have we discussed regarding appropriate attire around the lair? Every time you glide through here in one of your…almost-there outfits, we end up with at least three henchmen in the infirmary. Poor Jennings' nose will never be the same." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "walked face first into a steel support beam…pity."
This comment pulled Shego's attention back to the matter at hand. As of the past two months, her favorite pastime, namely irritating Doctor D, had changed. It was too easy. Everything irritated the man. Therefore, instead of bugging him, she would try and embarrass him. Fluster him to the point he couldn't form words, let alone complete sentences. It looked like today it was going to take a bit more work.
"Yeah. OK, number one, it's Saturday. I'm off the clock. Number two, it's Saturday. You sent the henchmen all home for the weekend because we don't have anything pressing on the agenda. And number three…" swinging the basket in front of her, smiling a thousand-watt smile, and in her best little girl voice, "…are you sure it's the henchmen you're worried about?"
Much to Shego's surprise, Drew just smiled, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on the table. "Has anyone ever told you that a large portion of your personality is that of an absolutely unrepentant brat?"
Shego's eyes flew open wide. "Oooh, good one, Doctor D! He's feeling frisky today. Ok, game on!"
"Hmmm…now that you mention it, I don't recall anyone. But I'll accept the compliment, thank you!"
Continuing to smile, Drew got up from his chair and strolled over the coffee maker to freshen his cup. "Look, Shea, all I'm saying is that for a woman with the ability to leave chaos and destruction in her wake simply through her wardrobe choice…you might want to be a little more circumspect. As for myself, I have managed to…strengthen…my defenses, with some limited success."
"Defenses? Against li'l ol' me?" Switching to a passable southern accent and fanning herself with one hand, Shea continued, "Why Doctor Drakken, I do de-clay-a, I didn't think y'all noticed!"
This brought a genuine laugh out of Drew. Walking back to his seat with his refilled mug, he just shook his head and said, "It may have slipped your notice, but I am a man, Shea. You have the same effect on me that you have on any other red-blooded male of the species. I am simply not permitted to acknowledge the fact, much less act upon it."
Shea's thought processes came screeching to a halt. "Wait, stop, whoa, time out on the field here! What are you talkin' about? Not permitted? By what? By who?"
"Good, she's taking the bait! Now, work slowly, old boy. Don't spook her…"
"Surely you understand that, even though you pretty much do whatever you see fit around here these days, technically I'm still your employer. There are certain proprieties in the workplace that must be observed. Then, of course, there is the unfortunate fact that I am roughly fifteen years your senior. Now, while I've earned the title "mad scientist"…I rather prefer "evil genius", by the way…one title I don't want is "dirty old man", or its current version, "creepy old guy"…
THWACK!!! In two long strides, Shea had covered the distance between them and cuffed Drew upside the back of his head.
"OOFFF! Hey! What was that for?" Drew had expected a reaction of some sort, and had moved his coffee mug out of the line of fire…but he wasn't about to let Shea know that.
"Now you listen to me, you big blue goof. We're gonna get a few things straight, right now!"
"Shea, really, there's no need to…"
"I'M STILL TALKIN' HERE!"
"Shutting up now…" Drew was using all of his willpower to look contrite, but it wasn't easy. "I wonder if she even remembers what she's wearing? I'm about to receive a stern lecture…from a hot babe in a bikini. No one will ever believe this. Wonder how long I can string this out before she kills me?"
Shea began pacing back and forth across the kitchen, gathering her thoughts. "Let's start with the second point first, shall we? There is no way in Hell I'm listening to you whine and moan about some bogus mid-life crisis. Moving from lair to lair while trying to keep one step ahead of the Law, Global Justice, and Princess isn't exactly a sedentary lifestyle. A couple more hours a week in the gym wouldn't kill you, but even with that, physically you're about ten years younger than your actual age, so that excuse doesn't fly. And take a look at all the gadgets and schemes you've come up with. Now, admittedly , some of them were pretty whack, but the point is old guys don't think like that. And lord knows you've never acted your age…"
"Is that what's known as a "back-handed compliment?"
Shea glared at Drew with a look that would melt steel, which, considering her attire, was a remarkable feat.
"Sorry."
"Now where was I? Oh, right. Yeah, I mean, are you kidding me? Employer/employee fraternization?!? Drew, pay attention here. You, mad scientist…ok, evil genius…bent on taking over the world. Me, world class thief and voted "most dangerous woman in the World" three years in a row. I hardly think corporate protocol regarding office interpersonal relationships applies here! And another thing…"
Shea was building a fine head of steam, and Drew was beginning to see the finish line. "I might actually win this one…she's hooked, now to just reel her in…"
"…what's with this 'not permitted'? Since when do you care what anyone else thinks?!?"
"Ah, Shea. Do you really know me so little?"
One could almost hear teeth snapping off the mental gears as Shea came grinding to a stop. "Huh?"
Walking over to the sink, Drew dumped out his now cold coffee and rinsed out the mug. Placing the mug on the counter, he turned toward Shea, saying, "Think for a moment. In every one of my monologues…ok, rants…about one of my Rube Goldberg inventions or Machiavellian schemes, there is a common thread."
Shea, looking like she'd been pole-axed, was speechless for the second time. She had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.
"Damn, I'm good," thought Drew. "Let's try this…" "One Day…"
Shea plunked into the chair behind her, and in a quiet voice, "…they will recognize my genius."
Kneeling beside Shea, and with a very un-Drakken-like smile, Drew said, " I have always cared what others think of me, Shea. It's one of my more glaring character flaws. And, truth be told, the main reason I became "Drakken" in the first place."
Retrieving the now long forgotten tanning kit, Drew stood. As he placed it on the table, he said, "Try the southern observation platform. This time of the year, it gets the most Sun." As an afterthought, he added, "By the way, give some thought to what you may want for dinner. The pantry's a bit low, and we may have to make a run for supplies." He strolled toward the hallway, humming quietly to himself.
"Ok, that one goes in the "loss" column…I think." Shea sat alone in the now quiet kitchen and did a mental instant replay of the recent events. "What the Hell just happened here, and who was that masked man?" The only thing she knew for certain was she would have quite a bit to ponder in the coming days.