Not gonna lie, this whole thing was mostly written while listening to Passenger, Sleeping At Last, and Kate Rusby.
Chapter 13
Caravan – Passenger
Roxanne had been expecting Megamind to somehow climb down from the tank carrying Minion to put him back into his suit, but instead, three brainbots detach Minion's dome and carry it up to the mouth of the tank. It's hard to see what's happening up there and hard to hear what either of them is saying, but Megamind's clear laugh rings out shortly before the brainbots come zooming back down with Minion in tow. Things must be more or less okay.
She probably won't have to stand up just yet, then. Good. She'd pulled Wayne's head into her lap when she'd settled back down with him; pins and needles are an even trade for being able to stop actively worrying over him. And he seems to be asleep now, so she's reluctant to move unless she's needed.
The end, she thinks. It's the end, isn't it? Minion is home, Megamind is all smiles… This is exactly what she'd wanted. She wouldn't trade it for anything.
But life goes on, and there is the small question of what happens next. The whole taking-one-day-at-a-time thing has become sort of a habit, and with the future so uncertain, Roxanne hasn't thought much about where to go from here. As someone who usually plans for every possible contingency, the feeling is…disquieting.
But who knows? Maybe it's good not to have too many expectations. A lot has changed since the last time Minion was in the Lair, and until a few days ago, none of Roxanne's daydreams about Minion coming home had included an actual, real prospect of kisses with Megamind. And the number of daydreams that included Wayne dying—or even almost dying—is probably less than zero.
(The best-laid plans of mice and men, she thinks, and then wonders what the rest of the quote is. Does anyone, ever, finish the quote? Does it matter?)
So. Plans. She has none, and maybe that will turn out to be good, but right now it's not terribly reassuring.
She catches herself rubbing at her ear again and puts her hand back down, flexing her jaw as she watches Minion's dome lock down into his exosuit. I'll just keep taking this as it comes, she decides. She forces a yawn, trying again and failing to pop her ears. It's been working out just fine for us so far. Everyone is here. Everyone is okay. I don't have to be worried.
Megamind races down the ladder after Minion, trying to see if he can reach the floor before the brainbots have his friend's dome properly locked into place—he knows he won't be able to, he isn't trying very hard, but he leaps off the ladder while he's still nearly eight feet in the air. He rolls into a half-run, bounces over to Minion, and flings both arms around the gorilla exosuit. Minion stumbles, then grins down at him and pats his back a few times. "Too slow, Sir," he says, and Megamind sticks his tongue out and laughs, dizzy with joy and apprehension, his heart in his throat. He feels shivery, which has nothing to do with the Lair's cool temperature or the drafts on his wet skin.
When he steps back, he's still smiling, but there's a line between his eyebrows as he turns to look back at the pair sitting on the tarp. Roxanne has her legs stretched in front of her and her back against the tank's glass, and—ah, Wayne has his head in her lap and his eyes are closed. Okay. That's. That's probably okay.
Megamind swallows hard and hugs his arms across his chest. Thinking is easier now than it has been in ages, but so much has changed that he doesn't know where to begin explaining everything to Minion. Or whether he should try at all! Should he? Now? There's so much. And it's so new. And different. It would—would it be too much? It would be too much. Wouldn't it?
He thinks it might be, but he's thinking a lot of things right now. Like! For example! Wayne's current physical and mental state also need seeing to.
Megamind lifts a hand to his mouth and bites down on his first knuckle, frowning. Wayne seems to be breathing well enough at this point—it will be easier to tell when he gets closer—he'll have to get closer; he has to talk to Roxanne, anyway—and of course, he does want to—no, focus, Megamind, focus! Wayne's strength will cut out if he doesn't get enough oxygen. Right. There's the problem. Problem with not breathing.
It wouldn't be a problem if his various superpowers were actually superpowers, instead of products of his biology. 'Subspatial manipulation of gravitational fields' doesn't have the same ring as 'super-strength,' but it's pretty much the only thing keeping him from being crushed under his own weight on this planet. And if he's having trouble breathing, and it stops working…
That. Would be a problem. Although—
He frowns harder. Yes, he could probably get enough mercury to replicate the chamber the doctors suspended Wayne in when he'd caught pneumonia back in middle school. Not without raising a number of eyebrows, but he could certainly—oh, or no, wait—hold on, hold on; simplify—there are oxygen tanks upstairs, and the antigravity cuffs are still lying around someplace. Those would be much easier to deal with. Just modify the intergravitational harmonizers on the cuffs to equalize Wayne's subspatial field throughout his displacement, keep him from being squeezed, and then it's only a matter of finding a non-rebreather mask that fits him and feeding him oxygen until his strength is able to reestablish itself. Okay.
Megamind relaxes slightly. Yes, he can do that. If he needs to! He probably doesn't need to! As long as Wayne's invulnerability doesn't short out for too long, he'll probably be all right.
He's not out of the woods yet, though, and. This is still a problem, in fact, because—
"He doesn't look so good, Sir," Minion says, and…yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Wayne doesn't look good.
And Minion is the one saying it. That's also new.
Megamind nods, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "I don't want," he tries, but no, no, that won't work. His next attempt starts with, "I wouldn't feel right if," but that's not really any better. Ugh. Ugh.
"Keep him under observation?" Minion inquires mildly, and Megamind looks up at him, startled. Minion gives him a little smile, then continues, "I agree completely. I'll tell a couple of the brainbots to sneak into Scott Manor—I'm sure they'll be able to find some clothes for him there that haven't been chopped all to pieces."
Megamind blinks twice and then feels his face relax into a grin that's only a little bit shaky around the edges. "Minion, you always know what to do," he says fervently. I'm so glad you're alive, he doesn't say, because he doesn't need to. Definitely not because saying it will probably make him cry and crawl up Minion's exosuit and wrap himself around the glass and just stay up there for a while. Definitely not because it sounds too close to I'm so glad I didn't kill you.
(This is all entirely too much to deal with right now. Or. Ever.)
Minion smiles back and pats his shoulder with a huge metal hand, then stumps off to go confer with the brainbots. Which leaves Megamind to approach Roxanne and Wayne on the tarp. Which he can totally do.
But, man, the hero doesn't look much better up close. Heavy purple shadows are bruising at Wayne's temples and all around his eyes, and the skin near what Megamind can see of his spongy inhalant siphons is inflamed.
Megamind's frown deepens as he stops in front of Roxanne. Wayne has crow's feet. How long have those been there?
Five years for him, he thinks absently. That's one year as far as anyone else is concerned, plus four years' time in subspace—just sleeping—racing from emergency to emergency—four years; who knows how many before that?
"Hey, love," Roxanne says quietly, gazing up at him. "What's the plan?"
He blinks at her, then heaves a sigh and turns around so he can sit down next to her, close. She moves automatically, half-lifting her arm, and Megamind thinks—three things all at the same time: she can't possibly but also yes and fuck it. He cuddles in against her side; he pulls his knees to his thin chest and turns his head against her shoulder. "I don't have a plan," he says aloud, and runs his hand down the side of his ribs so the flare of his gills won't catch on Roxanne's damp shirt. She hadn't gotten full-body soaked like he or Wayne had, but she's still wet pretty well through. "The brainbots are getting dry clothes for us," he tells her. "Other than that, I'm playing this by ear." He nods down at Wayne. "How is he?"
"He's pretty insistent that he'll be fine."
"Good. He probably just needs to sleep it off." He makes a grumbling noise under his breath, but can't help smiling when Roxanne's arm closes around him. "He's…basically indestructible. As long as his biological requirements are met."
Wayne stirs. "Thank you, and will you please take his word for it?" He turns his head so he can scowl at Roxanne, who appears nonplussed. "She won't stop worrying over me," he complains, rolling his eyes up and tipping his head even further back to look up at Megamind. His voice is thick; he sounds extremely congested. "I swear, she's convinced I'm gonna die. Megs, buddy, tell her! She listens to you."
Megamind wrinkles his nose a bit at 'buddy'—it doesn't rub him wrong; he's just not sure he'll ever get used to it—and gives a haughty sniff. "Somebody has to worry about you," he says archly, perfectly aware that it's almost the same thing Roxanne had told him only a few nights ago. He's also aware that he'd mostly stopped protesting afterwards. "Probably best if we both do. There's too much of you for just one person to keep track of."
Wayne snorts, incredulous. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're, like, six of me. You're built like a house."
"A brick house," Roxanne adds, grinning. "Drop you in a lake, ploonk, you go straight to the bottom."
"You guys are the worst friends ever," Wayne scoffs. "I dunno why I put up with you."
"Psh," Megamind says, pleased. "You love me."
Wayne glances at him, then rolls his eyes. "Whatever."
Megamind grins and lifts his head so he can lean it against Roxanne's, then nods a little. This is actually sort of pleasant: sitting with her, snarking at Wayne, finally able to rest for a few minutes. He could get used to this. Potentially without the almost-totally-naked part, but he's trying not to think about that too much.
There are a number of things he's trying not to think about, right now. It isn't easy; he's woefully out of practice.
"No plan," Roxanne says softly. "Okay. Yeah, we'll…we'll manage." Her arm around Megamind's shoulders and back tightens, the fingers on his bicep squeeze, she tips her head onto his shoulder and leans on him for a moment.
"Maybe Minion will have a plan," he murmurs. "Minion's really good at those."
"Do we tell him about us?" Roxanne asks, after a moment. "Did you already?"
Megamind shakes his head but doesn't move away from her. "My aquatic vocabulary isn't…it isn't as extensive as I'd like. I didn't mention it. And. I didn't really know how." He hesitates, then blurts, "What do you think we should do?" Asking for third-party advice isn't something he does often, but… "My thinker is out of practice. You're the smartest person I know. Think for me."
Her heart skips a beat at the smartest person, from Megamind. Megamind calling her smartest is probably the best thing she's ever heard. She smiles a little, watches Minion waving his hands at the brainbots clustering around him. "I almost feel like it would be too much, too soon."
Megamind rumples his forehead and makes a small, dissatisfied sound, but it ends on a resigned sigh. "I tend to agree."
"You don't sound too happy about it."
He wriggles his shoulders unhappily, then winces and has to lean away from her a little when one of his gills catches despite his best efforts to keep it shut. "I wanna kiss you," he says as he smooths it closed again, only whining a little bit. "And I—I want—I want to kiss you a lot."
Roxanne chuckles. "Me too," she murmurs, raising a hand to brush her knuckles back and forth on the side of his head. "I'm really—" Megamind makes a noise at that, a trilling little prrpt noise like a cat that's been surprised, and she cuts off, staring at him. He lifts his head from her shoulder and glares up at her.
"Not a word," he warns. "Not one. Word. Don't you dare."
"Was that you?" she's laughing; she is; she can't help it. "You sounded so cute!"
"Yes, yes," he grumbles. "Yes, and if you scratch me behind the ears, I…uh. Didn't think you'd. Actually do it. Stop that."
"Holy guacamole," Wayne mumbles, "get a room, you two."
Megamind sits up, already half-laughing. "Now, you listen to me, you total killjoy—"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Minion turns back towards the tank, feeling pleased with himself. He'd sent several of the faster brainbots over to the manor; they should be back in only a few minutes. He'd also sent a couple others to go and fetch a change of clothes for Miss Ritchi, and a few more upstairs to find something for Megamind, since Miss Ritchi's clothes are rumpled and dark with water and Megamind's are in several wet puddles on the floor. Miss Ritchi's home is further away, so it will take longer, but at least she's fully clothed, unlike Megamind, who's wearing briefs. Wet briefs! Not even his undersuit! And he, especially, won't want to be exposed like this more than he'll have to be. Gills out and webs in his feet and everything—he won't be comfortable like that at all.
Minion turns. And.
Stops.
Megamind is curled up and making himself small, which Minion isn't surprised to see, but he's curled up with Miss Ritchi. Curled up right up against her, curled up almost naked with her, and tolerating a surprisingly close proximity to his nemesis to boot. And he's—laughing? They both are. Then he says something that makes Metro Man's eyes fly open, makes him lift and roll onto one elbow and turn to point at Megamind and open his mouth to say—something, while Miss Ritchi throws her head back and laughs and laughs, and Megamind chortles through the teeth of his second-best what-you-gonna-do-about-it smile and laughs with his eyes at Metro Man, who scoffs at him and sits up more fully and leans gingerly back against the tank on Miss Ritchi's other side. Miss Ritchi hiccups once, and her laughter subsides to giggles, and—
—her arm is around Megamind, Minion realizes abruptly. Her arm, she has her arm around him; he's beaming and she has her arm around his bare shoulders, her hand is on his skin.
He stares. That's…new. Okay.
Okay, so maybe he won't have to push too hard, after all. God, his heart is in his throat. This is. Entirely too like his dreams, before.
They weren't big dreams. Just little quiet daydreams in which everything was okay, nothing was going horribly wrong, Megamind was happy and Minion finally found the time to put a garden on the roof—there were lilacs; he knows they're not a rooftop garden plant but it's a fantasy garden so who cares—and Miss Ritchi was usually there, too. Sometimes she would help him fill the bird feeders. And she would teach Megamind how to smile and he would teach her how to relax. And when it was raining, the three of them would watch old movies. Maybe Minion would learn how to crochet.
Maybe it was a silly thing to think about; maybe it was soppy—but what the hell, why not? He's a glutton for punishment.
But. This.
Megamind tends to look excited more often than he looks happy. There's a tired set to his face now that Minion doesn't remember ever seeing before, but his green eyes are dancing and his nose scrunches when he smiles, and this is—beautiful. This isn't anything Minion had ever thought he would see: Miss Ritchi happy and Megamind happy and—
—okay, Metro Man hadn't ever featured in any of his little domestic imaginings, but—there's space! Minion can make space! After today? Oh, yes. Happy Metro Man, too. Sure, yes, okay.
He stares at the odd little tableau, aware that he's staring and totally unable to do anything about it, until one of the brainbots zips up to him sideways and barks. He isn't used to the brainbots, anymore, and he almost jumps out of his dome.
The bot is holding a stack of fabric in all three of its claws—denim and something red; that will be Miss Ritchi's clothes. The idea that Sir's clothes should have arrived first waves a fin, and, sure enough, a quick glance around shows him another brainbot, clutching a bundle of blue and black, hovering by his left shoulder—who knows how long it's been there. Well, if Miss Ritchi's clothes are here, Metro Man's will be along shortly…
Minion takes the clothes from the bots, and swallows. And then he steps forward. He has feet again, and hands, and while his fine motor skills are a little shaky…he's himself again. Okay. Okay.
And he has—these three to thank for bringing him home. Miss Ritchi and Metro Man didn't do it for him, he knows, but that's all right; the net effect is the same.
He approaches and holds the clothing out to his friend, wordless, and Megamind startles and looks up at him, then at what Minion is holding. Blue and black leathers over blue and black spandex, his usual. He blinks, and seems to come back into himself, somewhat—almost seems to stiffen, but he's still grinning when he says, "Ah? Ah. Yes! Good, Minion, you think of everything."
It's true. He does. Partly because it's his job, partly because that's who he is, but mostly because he wouldn't have it any other way.
Megamind stands and takes his clothes, then half-turns back towards Miss Ritchi for a moment, almost hesitating. But then he steps away from instead of towards her, aims a shaky grin up at Minion, and heads off to get dressed.
Roxanne watches him walk away, then blinks when Minion hands her a stack of her own clothing as well—and she's smiling up at him before she can think about it, genuinely touched that he'd thought of her. Minion smiles back, although there's something guarded about his expression.
It nags at her as he directs her over to a sheltered area behind a filter drum to get changed. God, if she feels cut adrift and at a loss, she can't even begin to imagine what Minion must feel like.
She swallows hard and glances up at him again. "Hey," she says. "Minion. You okay?"
He gives her another smile, but his eyes are tired and—oh, he's doing that sharp-flicking thing he does with his fins when he thinks something's about to go wrong. "Yes, thank you, Miss Ritchi," he replies.
Yes, thank you, Miss Ritchi? Roxanne blinks, stung. Anxious or not, what is she, a stranger? "I'm…really glad you're back," she says. And. Oh shit. She'd intended it to sound welcoming and upbeat; she hadn't expected it to bring tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. That wasn't the plan at all.
She bites her lips together for a moment and twists her fingers into the folds of clothing she's holding.
"Are," Minion says after a couple seconds of her not walking away to get changed, "are you okay?"
"I…was…I missed you," she says. "I never got to tell you, before—honestly? I don't think I ever really thought about it? But—I'm so glad I know you, Minion; I'm…I'm so glad we're friends." She smiles as best she can, and blinks furiously against the tears, and hopes he can't see her face from this angle.
"I'm glad, too," he says, after a moment. "I…do you…is this where we, um—shake hands?"
"I thought this might be where I ask if I can hug you," she answers, proud of how her voice doesn't shake much. "Is. Is that okay?"
"Oh," he says, sounding stunned. "Oh? Of…of course, Miss Ritchi, yes, of course that's okay." He still looks half-dazed as he leans down.
The metal plates supporting his dome are surprisingly warm. And he'd said yes, but she shouldn't—shouldn't wrap both arms around him like this, shouldn't cling with her face turned into the corner between the bottom of the dome and his shoulder—she shouldn't do that, not if he'd wanted to shake hands originally. She realizes this a second too late when he makes a noise: a high, cut-off sort of sound, tinny this close to the speaker in his chest.
Her mouth is right next to the microphone on his right shoulder, but he can't make out what she mumbles. "What?" he says, feeling rather like a rubber band about to snap. "What?"
"Right?" she says, voice low. "We're friends, right? I don't," here she swallows and puffs a kind of half-laugh into the microphone, making him jump, "I don't want to presume, but…" A glance over his shoulder shows him that her knuckles are turning white where she's gripping her opposite wrist, hanging around his neck with half her face mashed against his dome.
…Okay. Okay? This is not something he has any idea what to do with. This isn't—she isn't unconscious; this is—voluntary? Okay, that's okay—
—No, really! It is actually legitimately great; now if he could just figure out what the fuck he's supposed to—
Hug back. That's what. Hugging back, like with Sir. Okay yes good great fine. Can do. Hands on back, like so; press, like so—not too hard; if he squeezes too hard, she'll let go, and he's still trying to process this.
He pats her back a couple of times. "We're friends," he says, bewildered. "Of…of course we're friends, Miss Ritchi, if you want to be."
She slides to the ground and smiles up at him, but Minion is good at reading faces and he's pretty sure she's trying not to cry. "Thanks," she says.
Unsure how to reply, he just smiles back, then stares at her back as she heads off to put on her dry clothes.
What on Earth was that about?
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
The rest of their time at the Lair that night is something of a blur. After the three bipeds are dressed and dry—Metro Man thanked him for the clothes; he'd literally said, "Thanks, Minion," and it was just the strangest thing Minion had ever heard in his life (Miss Ritchi thanked him, as well, but that's not quite as new; she's always been polite to him)—they head upstairs and poke around the Lair.
Minion stays quiet and says nothing about the mess the place is in. He also doesn't mention the brainbots, which are clearly in deep-clean mode, but he does have to wonder—it looks as though no one has lived here for some time. Megamind doesn't volunteer any information, and Minion doesn't ask.
He doesn't ask. There will be time to talk about the Lair later.
(If he talks about the Lair now, probably also he will have to talk about the lake, and he isn't sure he can do that; if he talks about the lake, everything will be too real and he'll wake up—well, he won't wake up; that would have happened already if it was going to happen at all, but—it's still too close—)
(Minion doesn't say anything about the Lair.)
He also doesn't say anything about Megamind's continuing use of Miss Ritchi's first name. Or the touching, which has stopped now that everyone is on their feet.
He just doesn't say much, in general, to anyone, for a while.
But the brainbots are deep-cleaning everything when they go upstairs. That's rare. When Megamind cleans—if he cleans—he generally prefers to take care of things himself, because while there's a place for everything, that 'place' is usually where he put it down last. His organizational system isn't so much a system as a cumulative idiosyncrasy.
But the brainbots are cleaning, and the Lair is more organized than Minion has seen it in ages, and it's…weird. Everything feels completely detached and dreamlike, cut-off. Brainbots doing laundry?
Well, all right, he decides vaguely, as long as they don't get into the hand-washing.
What unsettles him the most, though, is how thick the dust is in the areas the brainbots haven't visited yet. Megamind hates dust and it's dangerous for the brainbots; if the seals on their cases crack and dust gets into the wrong places, it could kill them. The Lair doesn't get dusty. It just doesn't; they don't let it.
This is doing wonders for his mental state. What is he supposed to do? He's supposed to just…pick up? Pick everything back up where he left it?
Nothing is where he left it. And even if it is, he's not the one who left it there. Not anymore.
He turns from staring at a notebook that clearly hasn't been touched in several months, opens his mouth open to ask a question, and Miss Ritchi says—
"Look, why don't we all just go home?" She looks from Minion to Megamind, back to Minion, up at Metro Man, back down at Megamind again. "We can tackle everything tomorrow," she suggests.
Megamind perks up and looks relieved at that, and Minion pauses. "Home, Miss Ritchi?" he asks.
Miss Ritchi and Megamind look at him, and then back at each other, and Minion's attention sharpens. The relationship between them has changed, that much was already clear, but how much has it changed?
Finally, Megamind tears his gaze away from her and looks back up at Minion. "Minion. I…I haven't lived here at the Lair for…several months."
That explains the dust, if not the disarray.
"He's been living with me," Miss Ritchi adds, smiling tiredly. "It's been fun."
Minion squints, but he can't detect any sign of sarcasm. Huh. Well, there's how the link took hold. Full time? Living with her, she'd said; not just staying with her, but living. "Okay," he says slowly. "Yes, let's go…home."
"We can stay here, if you prefer," Megamind offers, sober, startling Minion into staring at him. "If you want to stay somewhere familiar."
Minion shakes his head quickly and sends him a reassuring smile to hide his surprise. "No, I'm all right. We should let the brainbots finish cleaning up."
Wayne raises his hand. "Hey, if you're all going back to Roxie's place anyway, can I bum a ride? The Hero Express is…still kinda grounded."
Megamind glances at him, then away, and shrugs. "Can the Hero Express drive an invisible car?"
Wayne looks dubious. "I doubt it. I don't…I don't really drive. Much. And right now…"
"He can't drive, he means," Miss Ritchi says.
"Hey, I can drive!" Wayne puffs himself up, then winces and rounds his shoulders down again. "Just…not now. I'm not even super digging this whole 'upright' thing."
Megamind looks at Minion, who steps back, shaking his head. No. He can't do it. Not driving, not while the car is invisible; he can barely think straight and this suit isn't his best one; its reflexes probably haven't been tuned in months.
Megamind sighs. "Looks like it's up to me, then."
Minion's heart seizes. His boss is terrifying behind the wheel. "Sir, no," he says, as firmly as he can.
Megamind huffs at him. "Well, if you can't, and he can't, and I can't…" They all look at Miss Ritchi.
She blinks around at them, nonplussed. "I can drive if it's not a stick shift."
"That," says Megamind, "might be a problem."
"No, hang on," Wayne says, brightening, "I've got an idea!"
"No," Megamind says, immediate, flat. "You aren't allowed to have any more ideas. Your last idea almost ended with you dead on my floor."
"No, no, it'll be great," Wayne assures him. "You'll love it. I promise."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"I don't love this," Megamind announces from the back seat of the invisible car fifteen minutes later, as it stalls out a third time. "I don't love this at all." He'd had to move Minion's seat far forward so that Roxanne would be able to reach the pedals and see the road over the old Hudson's high dashboard, and now the whole car feels off. He wiggles in his seat, trying to settle his seat belt so his shirt doesn't scrape against his open gills, and glances sideways at Minion, who isn't voicing any opinions but who looks deeply skeptical about this whole enterprise. "All in favor of the brawn leaving the ideas-having to the brains of this outfit, say aye."
"I mean, sure," Wayne says, "but I dunno what kinds of ideas Minion usually has."
Megamind rolls his eyes. "Oh, har har, it is to laugh."
"No, both of you shut up, I can do it. Just…" Roxanne puts her tongue between her teeth, then grins when the car coughs to life. "Ha! See? Told you so."
"Okay, great," Wayne says, leaning his head against the passenger side window and closing his eyes, "now, whenever I say 'clutch,' push the clutch in and let it out slow, like just now." He grips the gear lever. "I'll handle the shifting."
Roxanne looks over at him. "You aren't even watching."
"You just…steer and work the pedals, I'll shift. We got this."
"Why do you know how to shift gears?" Roxanne asks, suspicious.
Wayne snorts. It's not a particularly heroic sound. "You've seen my father's car collection, right? Been a few years, but it's like riding a bike. Probably."
"We are all going to die," Megamind declares. "We are all going to die, and it will be your fault, and I'm going to say 'I told you so' when it happens."
Wayne sighs. "Haven't you ever heard of being the bigger person?"
"What, bigger than you?" It's Megamind's turn to snort. "We already covered this; you're like…six of me."
"The high road, then. Clutch."
"Yeah, I'm not the one in this car who can fly aaaand we've stalled."
"Don't make me turn us around, you two," Roxanne says.
Megamind scrunches his nose, feigning manic bewilderment. "Wouldn't the car have to be moving for that?"
"Sir," Minion admonishes quietly.
"Sorry."
There's quiet for almost a whole minute, and then Wayne huffs a laugh through his nose. "'M hungryyy," he whines under his breath, "I need to peee."
Evidently this means something to Roxanne, because she starts laughing, too. "You should've gone before we left."
"Are we there yeeet?"
"Wayne, so help me, I will end you."
"But Mo-oom—ow, okay, okay."
She pilots them home at what both Megamind and Wayne complain is a "snail's pace," although probably for different reasons. Minion squishes himself into the back seat and stays quiet for the most part, content to have Megamind beside him, singing in his mind and complaining loudly in his ears.
From what he can tell, his prickly charge isn't accustomed to having Metro Man in such close quarters, but there's a new undertone to their bickering that Minion thinks might be honestly good-natured. He supposes there must be allowances when your arch-enemy helps you get your best friend back from what must seem like beyond the grave (don't think about that, don't go there). Personally, it'll probably take him some time to work through the all the intricacies of his thoughts on their old enemy, but…he does tentatively approve of this new situation.
The whole night is so surreal. It's like he's stepped into an entirely different universe than the one he'd left a year ago. Everything is just familiar enough to be reassuring, but it's all so different. Megamind's self-deprecating humor and open consideration aside, everyone is behaving strangely.
For example, when they get to Miss Ritchi's building, she and Megamind hold a hurried discussion in the underground parking garage, and then she turns to Wayne and says flatly, "You're sleeping on my couch tonight, don't even try to argue."
"I'm too big for your couch," he says, "I'll just get a cab, Roxie, it's fine," which makes her blink at him, then rub the bridge of her nose. The way she's standing with her heels together, the way she tipped her head down for a moment and squared her shoulders…that was a Megamind gesture. He's never seen Miss Ritchi do that before, but he's seen it from his Sir a million times.
"Wayne," she says, huffing a sigh, and even her tone is Megamind's, "what did I just say?"
"Well, I am."
Megamind rolls his eyes and jumps in before she can say anything else. "You can sleep in the guest bed, then." Good lord, his pacifying and slightly exasperated tone is Miss Ritchi's. This cannot be real. "I washed the sheets a couple days ago," he continues, and Minion does about fifteen catch-twenty-twos in the space of half a breath, "they're clean. A cab," he scoffs under his breath, "honestly. Like any ordinary suspension could handle you."
"That'll work," Miss Ritchi agrees. "And you can sleep in my bed," she tells Megamind. "Minion too, if he's got his…you called it a habitat ball?" she asks, and Megamind nods. "The gorilla suit's got too many sharp pieces, but his ball should work just fine. If he wants." She says this last bit while looking reassuringly up at Minion, who is far out of his depth and not the least bit reassured.
"I'm sure there's a ball in the car," Megamind says; "we always have a spare," and he rummages around until he finds it. A couple minutes more, and he has all the supplies he'll need to make the ball habitable.
He shoots a grin up at Minion, and then he and the other two bipeds head for the elevator. Minion keeps pace with them but doesn't say anything. His head is spinning, and he wouldn't mind some further clarification. As pleased as he is that they're thinking of him…will Miss Ritchi also be in her bed?
He considers this.
As strange as it sounds…if he's being honest with himself, he kind of hopes she will be. He knows it's wrong to think that, but—well, come on! It's her bed! Kicking her onto the couch would be rude! Especially when he wouldn't actually mind sharing. And from what he remembers, her bed is more than big enough to fit two adult humanoids comfortably, and he really would rather share than cause her to move to the sofa.
But he's not sure how Megamind might feel about that. And he's still pretty sure Miss Ritchi wouldn't offer her bed to Megamind to share. Yes, he had decided to push them—and they've been living together, there's that—but sleeping together might be a bit much, yet.
We'll tackle that later, he decides after a few moments' bewildered consideration. I'll see what I think we can get away with.
So he troops into the elevator with the three of them, spinning in his bowl to glance behind him as the door closes. It's been a while since he's taken any legitimate routes into the building, and he'd always scoped out the access and escape routes first to make sure they're clear. Megamind has griped at him about being a worrywart before and will probably continue to gripe for the rest of his days, but Minion is a nervous person! He can't help it!
Luckily, Miss Ritchi's hallway is deserted when the doors open, and remains so while she unlocks her multiple (ineffective, redundant) deadbolts, and then they're inside and safe, finally.
Minion looks around and stops dead.
Everything looks pretty much the same as he remembers.
There's the red couch, the incongruously umber armchair, the coffee table. The kitchen island with four spindly chairs in which neither he nor Metro Man will ever be able to sit—not that Minion has ever been able to tell the difference between sitting and standing anyway—and the brushed-steel refrigerator with the ice dispenser that has never worked properly.
(The sink isn't dripping, for once. She must have had it fixed.)
And there's the red glass vase by her bedroom door, the pussywillow branches that Minion figures must be decorative because there's no purpose to them that he can see except to look nice.
The art on the walls is the same as the last time he was here, and the plants on her windowsill are the same, if a tiny bit bigger.
(Metro Man goes staggering past and collapses cross-legged on the floor in front of the armchair, then sags gingerly back against it. This barely registers.)
The only difference he can see, other than the non-drippy sink, is the folding screen set up about six feet out from the wall of windows and the end of what looks like a bed poking out from behind it. That must be where Megamind has been sleeping.
Nice view.
Miss Ritchi says something and Metro Man waves a hand at her, but Minion doesn't hear because—the door closes behind him, and—he's inside and—safe, finally, and—
This is where he'd tucked one of the most important people in his life into bed at least once every couple of months for several years.
This is where he'd dared to sleep overnight the time Megamind went on a coffee bender and started blasting Cynic through the Lair at two in the morning. Minion hadn't been able to make himself heard or figure out how to shut off the sound system. It was getting later and later, and Megamind was in fine spirits and Minion was exhausted and at his wits' end, so he'd…just…gone to the only place besides the Lair where he knew he'd be at least safe, if not welcome. He'd arrived well after Miss Ritchi was asleep and he'd quietly departed long before she woke up, but he'd been able to get some rest.
He isn't the only one who's slept there on occasion. This is where Minion almost always finds Megamind when he disappears at night and hasn't told Minion where to look for him (curled up in the corner behind Miss Ritchi's television set; Minion doubts Miss Ritchi knows this).
Minion has probably spent more time here at night than he has when the sun was up, and rarely with the lights on, and yet…
And yet this is one of the only places other than the Lair where he's ever felt safe. And there's a stone weighing heavy in his throat, and his soft palate feels fluttery and strange, and his fins feel stiff.
"…?"
He jumps and turns, suddenly realizing that someone was asking a question. "What? Yes?"
Miss Ritchi is peering up at him, concerned. "I said, do you have any preference for dinner?"
Minion blinks at her, then shakes his head and flicks the rigidity out of his fins. "Oh, no, I'll be fine. I only…I'll look through your fridge and rustle something up." He musters a smile. "I'm fine, Miss Ritchi, really, don't worry about me."
"You don't have to do that," Megamind says smoothly, "we're well-stocked here, I know what we're doing. How's pork sound? M—Wayne, you're allergic to…nothing, I think."
"Yep, or you'd have poisoned me already." He doesn't move or open his eyes, and Minion feels a twinge of guilt; he's never seen the hero look so worn-out and uncomfortable.
Then he realizes what Megamind just said. "Pork sounds…great, Sir, but…"
"Oh, don't worry. I've learned some new tricks, Minion!" Megamind grins at him, eyebrows up. He's rubbing hand over hand over hand; well, if Megamind is excited to show him something new, Minion can roll with that. Some things never change.
He goes over to the couch. Sitting is the appropriate thing to do; humans get weird when you're standing and you don't have to be. He's careful as he settles down but the sofa only groans a little, so he supposes it's okay, and then he turns his attention to the kitchen because it's easier than sitting still and quiet and thinking. If this pork thing turns out to be a disaster, he can probably remember his cooking skills well enough to step in. No matter how badly his Sir pouts at him.
But he doesn't have to step in. He sits on the sofa, Wayne tilts his head against the armrest of Miss Ritchi's chair and breathes, and Megamind…
Megamind bounces from cupboard to countertop to cutting board, big knife flashing slowly around various vegetables. At one point, he says something and Miss Ritchi laughs and shoves him, and—he shoves back, grinning slyly at her from under his eyelashes.
His gloves are off, Minion notices, and he realizes with a kind of distant shock that he hasn't seen his Sir with his gloves on once yet tonight. He still seems fine standing hip-to-hip with Miss Ritchi in front of the stove, and she seems fine with him.
The thought had crossed his mind that maybe he won't have to push as hard as he'd anticipated, but now it's looking like he might not have to push at all. Megamind's smiles seem…not wider, but firmer somehow: they seem like they're sticking. Miss Ritchi certainly isn't acting shy around him.
He watches, and wonders, and thinks, Maybe…
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Megamind reaches for a bell pepper and goes to carve the stem section out in a circle, the way Roxanne had shown him. He'd cut the onions with no issues, and he knows how to cut the pepper, but…this time he pauses, frowning. Then, instead of carving the top of the pepper off like a pumpkin, he sets it sideways on the cutting board and slices once down across the top so that he's left with a topless pepper and a pepper top with a stem sticking out of it. The stem pops out of the top easily enough, and then he runs his knife around the inside of the pepper so he can easily lift out the seedy middle and throw it away.
He's left with all the pepper and no seeds—so no waste, no mess, and no needing to shake seeds out over the garbage can. Much better.
He grins, breathes a shakily happy sigh. He never would have expected to feel so relieved about troubleshooting a vegetable, but…I'm back.
Over by the stove, where she's fallen to watching the first round of pork strips and cutting the last of the button mushrooms into quarters, Roxanne asks, "So…how does he seem to you?"
He glances up and shrugs, starts slicing the pepper into crunchy green ribbons. "Quiet," he says simply. "Tired. But otherwise okay. He's talking normally again, that's a good sign."
"Does he need anything with his pork?"
Megamind shakes his head. "He's totally carnivorous. It's why we're doing his first, before the pan gets all oily and…um. Vegetable…y."
"Right, right." Roxanne nods, returns to what she'd been doing.
After a while, she says, "I'm gonna miss you." Megamind glances over at her, startled, and she shrugs a shoulder and doesn't look at him. "You're moving back into the Lair, aren't you? That's your home. Minion's home." She hunches over her knife, bends her head so her bangs fall over her eyes. "So…I'll miss you. You, me, hanging out. You living here."
There's a pause from Megamind, and then he says, "You…could come too. Come home with me."
She sighs. "Megamind."
"I'm serious!" he insists, watching as she turns and forks Minion's dinner onto a plate, and then he quickly ducks around her so he can throw more strips of pork into the pan. "You could. We have the space; you know we do."
Roxanne shakes her head and returns to the mushrooms. "I'd…I'd like that. And thank you. But I can't just move into the Lair."
"Why not?" Megamind says. That doesn't make any sense—first she says she'll miss living together, then she says she can't live with him…but she knows he can't live with her anymore, she knows that. This isn't his home. He has a bed here, but it isn't his home. Minion is his home, and Minion is in the Lair.
But Roxanne is his home, too, he remembers suddenly. But. Roxanne's home is here? Not in the Lair. Not with him in the Lair.
He gulps. "Why aren't you looking at me?"
"Because I'm looking at the mushrooms."
Megamind is quiet for a moment, and then he says, "Look at me."
Roxanne doesn't move. "If I look at you right now, I'll start crying, and I don't want to make Wayne and Minion worry," she says in a matter-of-fact sort of voice. "I'm going to miss this, I really am. And I—"
"Please," he says, low, urgent, not quite touching her arm even though he's halfway ducking around her at this point, trying to catch her eye (that's a new one, trying for eye contact, but he can't be amused) and Roxanne looks at him, her lips pressed together.
"Why?" he says, with a jerky shake of his head. "Why can't you? If you'd like it, then why?"
She rumples her chin and looks quickly back down at the cutting board. "It's different now. That's all."
"We could be different together," he tries, but her expression doesn't change. His stomach twists. "I…Rox…M-Miss…" His whole face scrunches; the formality lodges in his throat and refuses to let him complete it. "I'll miss you, too," he manages. "This. Home with you."
And his heart is—it's tearing down the middle, but—but then she swallows and reaches out, quickly squeezes his hand. "You'll always have a home here," she tells him, and then she turns fully away and starts bringing over the other vegetables while Megamind is still blinking in confusion. "Sorry, I don't…I don't mean to be maudlin!" she says, over-bright and too cheerful. "Minion's back, we should be celebrating!"
After a moment, when he says nothing, she finally adds, "I just…it's gonna be really lonely around here without you, that's all."
"I know about lonely," Megamind says, after another pause. "Please. Come to the Lair any…any time. You know where to find me. And—I'll come to you, too. Can I?" He touches her arm again. "You won't be lonely, I won't let you, I'll…I'll always come home to you. If you want me?" She doesn't reply, and Megamind is pretty sure he's about to break into a million pieces.
All he can think is—before, when he'd snapped at her, when she'd left in the middle of the night to go for a walk and he'd waited up—words had helped, then. He'd said everything he shouldn't have, and it helped. So he wrenches his shoulders back and drags his head up and tries his best to put words to the hollow fear rising in the back of his throat. "I feel like I'm losing you."
And it—that makes her turn. Suddenly she's blinking at him, looking totally taken aback. That's heartening, but he can't let go of the tension in his shoulders. "Tell me I'm wrong," he says, squeezing his eyes closed. "Tell me I'm stupid? Because I—am—really worried, Roxanne."
She stares at him. He's standing like he expects her to take a swing at him, which is just completely off-base.
Then again. She hadn't been paying attention to his tone earlier, but—oh, shit, yeah, that would have sounded like—crap. She doesn't have the brain for this right now. "You're wrong and stupid," she says. She'd meant it to sound firm, reassuring; it comes out wobbly, instead. "Do you need a hug?" she asks, but she knows it wasn't the right question even as she's saying it. When Megamind's eyes pop open he looks badly confused and uncertain. "I need a hug," Roxanne says, and—she's proud of herself for not bursting straight into tears when Megamind's gaze flicks involuntarily to the chair that has Wayne leaning against it.
"I need you to give me a hug, please, Megamind," she says, "if you want to. Right now. We'll figure Minion out later, I just—"
Megamind wraps his fist in her shirt and drags her in against him, and Roxanne can breathe.
Okay.
Okay. This is okay. She squeezes his narrow torso, then remembers a second later about his gills—she's going to need more information about those—and twists her hands into the back of his shirt instead, which feels like a safe compromise. God, he's so thin but his arms around her are like steel.
"Sorry," she whispers, turning her face into his long neck and breathing out a shuddering sigh as she tries to get herself under control. "I'm. Being selfish."
"No. Don't." He shakes his head, shifts his grip to hold her tighter. "So, you…do want to continue. This? With me."
"What?" She almost recoils, but stops herself at the last second because, wow, would that ever be a terrible idea. "Yes! Yes, Megamind, for crying out loud, I love you. I told you." And that must have been at least some of what was making him so tense, because he goes totally boneless for a second and then curls into her with redoubled strength, turns his face so his lips are in her hair, makes a softly relieved sound and clenches both fists against her back. Nice going, Roxie, she chides herself, and strokes a hand down his spine. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just…I can't be doing this right now."
Minion is back; they need to finish linking. I can't be in the way, in your business, that's not…right. That's not fair to either of them. And I want to get this right, she adds silently. It's not like she's lost a piece of her mind the way Megamind had when Minion vanished. She hadn't meant to pull away and make him worry, but the last thing he needs right now is a crying girlfriend on top of a best friend who basically just came back from the dead.
"I just need to take a few steps back," she says, "that's all."
"Because you want to," Megamind says, sounding totally baffled about the whole thing, "or because you think you should?"
Roxanne hesitates. "It's the right thing to do," is what she finally settles on. "Sweetheart, really, it's—it's fine."
Megamind pulls back and studies her face for a second, frowning. Then he says, abruptly, "Wait here. I need to talk to Minion," and steps back. "It's sticking," he calls over his shoulder as he dodges around the island, heading for the sofa.
"It's…? Oh shit, the pork," Roxanne mumbles, and turns back to the pan, feeling bizarrely cold without him.
At least this gives her a few seconds to try and get her bearings. A glance at the clock on the stove tells her it's not even nine o'clock yet, but she feels like she's just left a club at two in the morning: the world isn't real and she can hardly see straight. God, she'd better not be getting a migraine.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Minion blinks as Megamind all but skids to a halt in front of him.
"Honest answer, Minion," Megamind says. "I'm deferring to you on this one." He's bouncing on the balls of his feet again, but his pointed face is sober.
Minion's brow furrows. "Okay," he says slowly. "What is it?"
"If Roxanne came to live in Evil Lair, with us," Megamind keeps his eyes on Minion's face, "is that something you'd feel positively about?"
This gets a stare.
"I am serious," Megamind adds, fidgeting a little.
Well, all right. Minion has to consider this for a moment. Daydreams are one thing; real life is another matter entirely. Life rarely goes according to plan, in Minion's experience, and life is sharp and hateful.
But he likes Miss Ritchi—cares for her, even. She's never been hateful, not once, not even when a screw that wasn't entirely flush with Minion's shoulder panel tore a hole in her dress. And of course Megamind likes her, and of course the Lair has room. The brainbots might be a concern if it were someone else, but Miss Ritchi has always gotten along well with them.
He tries to think about this from Megamind's point of view. Some companionship might be healthy for him, break up the monotony, and Minion might be having some trouble getting his bearings but he's sure Megamind would be absolutely thrilled if this actually did happen.
One question nags at him enough that he has to ask. "What happens when she moves out?"
Megamind shrugs. "We'll see," he says, and Minion peers at him, but—there's no panic he can see, no disguised worry, so…
So, he nods. "Yes. Then. I think I would feel positively about it."
"May I tell her you wouldn't mind?" Megamind wrinkles his nose. "She seems to think you would."
The question catches him by enough surprise that he pulls back and blinks again a few times. He can count the times Megamind has asked 'may I' on the fingers of one hand. "O-of course, Sir. Do you…think that's something she's likely to want?"
Megamind shrugs, too quickly. "I don't know. Maybe!" Then his attention is back. "You're sure?" He frowns, tips his head a little, taps his thumbs together in front of his chest. "I don't want your answer to be preedicated on the assumption that she'll say no."
"I'm sure, but…" But he would have liked a little bit of warning? But he's too confused to really think clearly about this? Yes, that would be lovely, but logistically speaking, he just has no idea how it would work? "But what about Metro Man?" he asks. "She won't want to move in with us, she…if she moves in with anyone, it's going to be her boyfriend."
"Oh!" Megamind actually jumps. "Oh. Yes. I forgot. You wouldn't know. They aren't together," he says quickly. "They never dated, not really. They're friends, but they aren't…no, Minion, that's not a problem. No problems there."
Well, that's unexpected. Good, though? Is that good? Uncertainty pricks at him; he can't actually decide whether that's good or not, and maybe he'd better not think too hard about all this until he's got his feet under him. Figuratively speaking.
But he's gone this far. "Either way, Sir, I…don't want you to be disappointed, and…" He fumbles, trying to think of a good way to say 'this may be going a bit too far, even if she did just let you hug her.' "She seems to be warming up to you a lot! I'm…simply not sure if she…"
Megamind's lips twitch. "We'll see. Thank you. Best fish."
Oh, whatever. I suppose we will. Minion gives up and gives him a fond little smile and a fin-squeal that makes Wayne jump and snort. Megamind glances over at him, momentarily distracted, but then he shrugs and looks back at Minion with dancing green eyes. "Best," he says again, and then he turns and all but skips back to the kitchen, where Minion can't hear what he says and can't hear Miss Ritchi's response.
But he can see her eyes get big right before she looks over at him. He grins at her as best he can and waves, thinking all the while that this is a totally mad endeavor, what is Sir thinking? Asking her to come live with them right now? It's too soon! She's not going to say yes to this, she might be sort of laughing now and shaking her head at Megamind, and sure, she looks happy enough and she'd let him hug her before, but on what grounds would she ever want to—
Huh. She doesn't appear to be saying no.
Minion stares. She nods, she smiles, and then she—she hugs Megamind, this time, and his arms go around her so tight and so fast, one hand—one bare hand in her hair, actually in her actual hair, and—oh.
Oh, no, he'd been wrong. This isn't good; this isn't good at all. This is going to end with Megamind having the biggest broken heart ever. Crap. Shrimp cakes. This…could be sort of bad, actually. Sir's always had a thing for Miss Ritchi, but now it looks like he's actually fallen in love with her. There's no way that won't end in tears.
…Well.
To be fair, there is one way, but it's absurd. Minion should forget all about it, should work on figuring out how to discourage Miss Ritchi from spending too much time with Megamind, should figure out how to encourage Megamind to let her go but for real this time, Sir. Because this wouldn't work.
(But, he remembers, with a sick-dizzy feeling like a punch in the stomach, he'd lost his right to do that when he'd abandoned Megamind in the bottom of the lake. Ah. Right. He'd—built a nest, alone, he'd defended it and kept it, and—fuck, no, okay (breathe), no, the point is—the point. Is.)
(He has no right to make decisions on Megamind's behalf. That. Is the point.)
(So. He must make this way work, don't look back, it's done—move forward. Always move forward. Don't look back.)
Maybe he's just being selfish. It's certainly possible. Megamind won't be the only one who's hurt when she leaves; Minion likes Miss Ritchi; he really does. It wouldn't be hard to bring her into his nest the same way he has with Megamind. If he's being honest with himself, he's pretty sure he's already inadvertently laid the groundwork for it—ages ago, in fact.
He gulps, and feels his fins droop. Great. Wonderful. Superb. If he had a year to plan, maybe he could come up with something, but this…
The odds of anyone wanting to date Megamind are slim to none. The odds that any of the few people who might want to date Megamind will also be open to any kind of platonic bond with Minion are…well, they're just unspeakably low. And the odds that Minion would like anyone else as much as he likes Miss Ritchi are exactly zero.
I'm losing my mind, he thinks, drifting low in his bowl and swimming a tight, anxious circle. Focus, Minion! Focus! Megamind asked her to come to the Lair, and she hadn't said no. And they're in Miss Ritchi's apartment, and she's letting Megamind hug her. She'd even asked to hug Minion, himself, earlier. That's got to count for something, right?
It must. He doesn't need to do anything about this right now. But it would be a lot easier to focus if he wasn't glancing up every seven seconds because the light is wrong for forty feet of green, empty water.