. . . . . .

"It's a simple question," said Smithson.

"It's a ridiculous question," said Drakken.

"Come on, it can't be that hard."

"It really can," Drakken replied. "And it's a ridiculous scenario. It would never happen."

"The point of the question really isn't whether it would happen," said Smithson reasonably. "The point is who you would pick."

"Who you'd pick for what?" asked Shego, ambling into the lab, and the two scientists turned to look at her. "Also, the one with the mustache asked me to bring this to you." She tossed a folder down on the table, and Smithson leaned over it to read the latest test report for her new power converter.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day that the great and villainous Shego became an errand girl," the young scientist teased, and Drakken smiled wanly, wishing that Smithson wouldn't remind Shego that she had a fairly menial assignment here. Shego was his closest friend, maybe his only friend, and he was thrilled that she decided to follow him to this defense R&D facility and he really didn't want some joker to make her think about leaving again.

But Shego just smirked. "With what the guys upstairs are paying me, I can live with running a few errands. Anyway, you never answered my question. Who would you pick for what?"

"Ah," said Smithson, adjusting her glasses, "yes, I was asking Drakken a really important question. Shego, have you seen Princess Diaries 2?"

Shego raised an eyebrow, and Drakken was glad that for once he wasn't on the receiving end of that look. "Do I look like I've seen anything with the word 'princess' in the title?"

"See, in the movie," said Smithson, undeterred, "for Anne Hathaway to keep her claim on the throne of Genovia, she has to get married pretty quickly, so they, like, compile a list of eligible guys and she picks one and they have an arranged . . . engagement. But in the end it's okay because she ends up with Chris Pine."

"That sounds like an awful movie," said Shego flatly, but Smithson just laughed. She always just laughed at Shego.

"The point is, my question to Drakken was, if you were in that position, and you had to marry someone fast but pretty much anyone would say yes to you because hello, they'd be royalty, who would you choose? Except it's boring if you say, like, a celebrity, so pick someone you actually know."

Shego's face grew thoughtful, but she didn't have a chance to answer because Smithson was standing up. "And I want you to think about it because right now I have to go talk to McGrath about this most recent test but when I get back I want an answer from both of you." And she scooped up the folder and hurried out of the room.

There was a creak as Shego flopped into the chair next to Drakken, and her former employer glanced at her face. Once upon a time Shego would have been thoroughly annoyed by a ridiculous question based off an Anne Hathaway movie, but now she just looked amused. "That is a really important question," she said, mock-serious. "All right, Doc, let's hear your answer."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'd have to think about it more."

And that was not the answer she expected, he saw from the look on her face. "Really?"

"That surprises you? That I would need a few moments to decide who to spend the rest of my life with?"

"Well, yeah," she shrugged. "You only know, like, four single women who aren't insane or in jail. I figured you'd choose me right off."

And Drakken paused, and a wry smile crossed his face. "Sorry."

"I'm hurt," said Shego, and her face said she was joking, but after a moment she added, "No, but seriously, why wouldn't you choose me?"

"Would you choose me?" he countered.

"Maybe," she said defensively. "But I know a lot more men than you do women. I have a bigger pool to choose from."

"Charming," he said drily, and it was a testament to how their friendship had grown since they gave up villainy that he was comfortable talking to her like that.

"So you wouldn't want to be married to me?" she pressed.

And he paused again, trying to put his thoughts into words, and found himself chuckling at the irony of this conversation instead. "It's not that I don't like you, it's . . ."

And now he saw, to his surprise, that Shego was beginning to be genuinely bothered about this conversation. "What about it is funny?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's just . . . it's complicated."

"Explain it to me, I'm smart."

And now he was getting uncomfortable. "It's nothing about you, really—"

"Tell me," she commanded, and when he opened his mouth to refuse again, she added, "Remember how last month I picked you up from the airport and you said you totally owed me and I could ask you for anything? This is it. I'm calling in that favor."

He cringed. "Oh, that's, umm . . ."

"Answer," she demanded.

The conversation had gotten uncomfortable fast, and Drakken wished Smithson would return to interrupt it. He and Shego had grown very close in the past few months; he could genuinely say now that they were friends, and they talked much easier than they had when their relationship was purely professional and purely villainous. But the conversation she wanted to have might be too much even for that new bond.

"Answer or I'll tell Smithson you chose her."

"Fine," he said quickly. "Look, Shego, it's not that I don't like you, it's . . ." He could tell that he was flushing purple and he trailed off and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"If you don't tell me I'm just going to assume the reason is something really terrible, like you're already married to a parakeet or something."

"Fine," he said again, forcing the words out as his face burned in shame. "It's that—I used to . . . really like you." She froze, clearly shocked, and he continued, "You know, in a . . . romantic sort of way. A lot. And for kind of a long time. And somehow, that makes the idea of an arranged marriage with you much worse. Just for me, and I know I'm being ridiculous about it, but . . . if I chose, say, Smithson—she's nice and decent-looking and we'd probably be fine together. But with you I'd feel like we have this romantic history together, even though it's entirely on my side, and it would be uncomfortable. Being with you that way would be hard because every day would just be this reminder that for a year and a half I pined for you but I could never make you . . . return that feeling. It would be hard to . . . it'd be easier to marry someone I have no history with." He paused, tried to lighten the mood. "Although, really, after I thought about it, I might you choose you anyway."

Shego had done nothing during this whole explanation; she just seemed to stare harder every few words.

"Well," Drakken finally said after a few long moments, "now you know. I think I'd marry Tonya from reception. She appreciates my taste in sci-fi movies."

And Shego looked at him a few moments longer in silence, then shrugged, the movement looking forced. "I guess nerds deserve happiness too," she said, but it was clear from her expression that her mind was a million miles away.

. . . . . .

The next day was the beginning of a two-week vacation for Drakken; he and his mother were taking a tour of Revolutionary War sites in New England, something she'd always wanted to do. He didn't care much about history but it was nice to be away from work and nice to be with his mom.

He got home on a bright afternoon and found a note on his door: Call me when you're home. Not signed, but he'd know Shego's handwriting anywhere. He put his luggage in his front entry way and pulled out his phone.

Shego lived in the same building so she was down to his floor within minutes. She looked different than she did at work, somehow; something about her hair or her eyes was . . . softer, and with a sudden pang, he couldn't help but remember how he'd felt about her for all that time.

"Hey," she said, and he could immediately tell something was going on. She seemed off somehow; a little hesitant and even shy, which was not like her at all. "Can we walk?"

With a shrug he agreed and soon they were meandering through the streets of their neighborhood, with him leading the way because she was very distracted by something.

Finally she spoke. "I didn't know."

"Know?"

"That you had feelings for me. I had no idea."

Oh, yes. He'd been hoping she wouldn't bring that up again, but that was just not how his luck ran. "I made sure you didn't know," he said. "You clearly didn't feel the same way, and there wasn't any sense in ruining a perfectly good work relationship."

She nodded. "And then you just . . . stopped?"

"Well," he said reasonably, and repeated the phrase he'd said to himself so many times, "you can't do that forever. You'll go crazy." It had been more difficult than he let on to get over his unrequited crush, but she didn't need to know that.

She lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence after that. They'd reached the park and she took the lead now, heading across the grass with a glance at him to make sure he was following. Under the giant oak trees she paused, looked up at him, bit her lip, and then spoke.

"I want to try."

"Try?" he repeated, baffled.

"Us," she clarified, then smirked. "If you can stand to disappoint Tonya in reception."

"Are we still talking about princesses?"

She looked frustrated and took a step toward him. "No, we're talking about us. Me and you. I never thought of you that way but since you mentioned it I haven't been able to think of anything else. So let's . . . try. Me and you."

And Drakken finally understood, and he stared at Shego while his head and his heart stayed curiously blank, both completely unsure of how to react. He'd spent a long time trying to make himself stop caring about her, and she just wanted to blast open the floodgates he'd so carefully kept closed.

"Shego, you're my closest friend," he said honestly. "I don't want to ruin that."

"We can be adults about it. It ending wouldn't have to ruin our friendship."

"Wouldn't it?" he demanded. "You know me—better than anyone—so you know better than anyone that I don't do things by halves. If I let myself care about you again and you broke my heart . . ."

She took a step closer and put a hand on his arm. "I can't promise I won't break your heart, because I might. But I'm going to try not to, and just . . . think of how great this could be." She began to trail her fingers up and down his arm, and he had to admit it made his breath come faster. "You're my closest friend too," she admitted. "You're the reason that I took this job. So why wouldn't we want to take this friendship and just amp it up by adding making out to it?"

And he was a middle-aged man and a respected scientist and it was downright embarrassing that she could still turn him into a stammering teenager. "It's—I—it's been a long time since then."

"I see," she said flatly, dropping her hand back down to her side, and instinctively he almost stepped toward her, trying to maintain the contact as long as possible. "So you don't have feelings for me anymore?"

"It was a long time ago," he said again. "And I worked really hard on making myself not feel that way anymore. It hurt working with you every day and knowing you only thought of me as your irritating boss. So I forced myself not to care, and that's not a switch I can just flip . . ."

She nodded seriously—a serious, thoughtful Shego was not a sight he was accustomed to—and stepped away. Part of him was relieved and part of him—a tiny part he'd been ignoring for three years—wished that she would press the subject, that she would force him to confront those old feelings, that she would touch him again.

But if he thought the conversation was over, he was forgetting that Shego was extremely tenacious when she had found something she wanted. "All right, Doc," she said, "what are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight?" he repeated blankly.

"Yeah, you know, tonight. Once this afternoon is over."

"Uh . . . I was just going to unpack from my trip."

She nodded and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "Well, Mr. Lipsky, would you like to go out to dinner with me? On a date?"

"Shego, what are you—"

"You're over me, I get that," she said. "So I thought we'd start from scratch. Like people do when they date."

He blinked in surprise a few times. "Why?"

"Because I think this could work. Because I want to be with you."

She did have a knack for turning him into a stammering teenager.

This could end badly, said one voice in his head.

A beautiful woman wants to take you on a date, retorted the other. Why are you even hesitating?

"I guess I do need to eat dinner," he found himself saying.

A genuine smile crossed her face, and he caught his breath because for three years he hadn't let himself think about how beautiful she really was. "All right," she said, "I'll pick you up at 6." And before he could move or respond she'd leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

And then she was striding away across the grass, leaving him standing under the oaks with one hand reaching up to gently touch his cheek and with his voice murmuring after her. "See you then."

. . . . . .