And.
Shego prided herself on being honest.
She didn't do sugarcoating.
"Hah! You actually think you're gonna beat us, don't you, Princess?"
And I wish you weren't right every single time!
"Congratulations, Dr. Drakken. You win the 'Dumbest Plan Ever' award."
And I can't think up anything better.
"Date? Us? No way. That's Twilight Zone material, Doc."
And ask me again later.
"Dr. D, this date stinks! I mean— karaoke in Vegas? Your outfit looks like you just mugged Liberace!"
And I'll kill you if you don't kiss me tonight.
Of course, that didn't mean she always told the whole truth.
Idiosyncrasies.
"I hate being stuck in traffic."
"We're stuck here because somebody didn't remember to install the rocket engines and wings on this stupid van like they were supposed to!"
A strained, sulky silence; Drakken refusing to admit that she was right.
Another minute went by as they waited for the line of cars to budge. Then Shego heard a low but nevertheless annoying sound starting up.
"Dr. D! You're humming! Again!"
"I'm bored! I can't help it!"
Shego grunted irritably, looking out the window.
Silence; then—
"Stop drumming your fingers on the wheel, Shego! You know it drives me nuts!"
She.
"I found this outside, Shego."
Looking curious, Drakken held out a letter.
To Miss Go, it said.
Who the heck calls me Miss G— oh, right.
She grunted. "Stevie must've dropped it when the dogs chased him."
"That ridiculous man…" Drakken muttered. "Wait…your last name is 'Go'? Does that make your first name 'She'?"
Shego slapped her forehead, groaning.
"Well, tell me what it is, then!"
"No."
"I bet Stevie knows."
Shego hesitated— was that jealousy?
He was oozing wounded male pride, but was trying to hide it. Usually, he really didn't.
Perplexed, she actually blurted out her name.
Dammit...!
He.
When he actually succeeded, there was something about him.
She could swear he was practically glowing; face flushed with glee, white grin almost blinding.
The victory had been phenomenal. They'd basically crushed their opponents.
She knew he was pleased to get back at somebody who'd bested him so many times.
"Thought you'd beat us, huh, Dementor? Well, clearly you've underestimated me, Shego and my henchmen! Hah! Dr. D pities the fool who messes with my bowling team! Right, Shego?"
"...right, Dr. D."
She was horrified: Despite how geeky he was being, she realized she actually had to stifle a giggle.
Circle.
She found herself following her laundry's circular trek with her eyes, around and around…
What a lame thing to be waxing philosophical about.
The symbolism was tacky in its obviousness; her life was going in circles.
Weekdays: Help boss prepare plans. Get foiled by cheerleader.
Weekends: Spent alone.
Lather, rinse and repeat.
Urgh…!
The first problem seemed to be inevitable.
As for the other one…
She got up, leaving her laundry behind to discuss the weekend with the Doc.
The next laundry day saw green, blue and black garments swishing around together, tangling happily.
One out of two wasn't bad.
Food.
Alarms blared all across the lair.
He came running, frantic. "What is it? Kim Possible? Girl scouts?"
"Fire," Shego said calmly.
Smoke billowed from the kitchen; he ran inside.
"Noooo! Not my pot roast! Now there's nothing left for dinner! You know you can't cook, Shego, why'd you have to—"
"Gee, Doc…guess now we have to go out and eat."
On the verge of yelling at her about wasting time and money, Drakken caught sight of her expression…realizing what she was actually saying.
"I kn-know this little Italian restaurant…" he heard himself stutter.
She grinned. "I'll get my coat."
Club.
They'd never gone out on a Saturday before.
It was always just 'Friday, karaoke night'.
This time, a particularly exhaustive scheme had stolen Friday night.
She'd been tired enough to stay at the lair instead of going away for the weekend like usual.
Somehow, they'd ended up at this club.
No karaoke tonight. Nobody felt like singing.
Just two disgruntled villains sharing a bottle of wine.
Pessimism first: Another defeat, awful music, yadda yadda.
But eventually, he mellowed out…until the atmosphere was almost relaxing and companionable.
Unusual. For them.
When he leaned on her, it felt friendly.
She didn't move.
How?
He tried to sit up in bed; tired, bruised, groaning.
How did I get here?
He looked down; pajamas, bandaged arm. On the nightstand; aspirin, water, some grapes…and a note.
Drakken,
Going back to the spa. Your charming sidekick did a number on my back.
Shego
Chewing absentmindedly on a grape, he considered it all.
Being left in jail not once, but twice…having Shego stop his plans…and Warmonga, tossing Shego around like a rag doll while he mocked her.
Studying his bandages, Drakken sighed.
He didn't know how things would be when she got back, but now…they were finally even.