Ponytail, ponytail, ponytail!
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14. The Nature Of – part2

Steeling himself before he could be let down, he braced to see neither hide nor hair of his aloof so-called partner in crime over the coming days. That was fine. He didn't need to see her, and it was probably better he didn't. She was a distraction, and chauffeuring her to and fro was an utter waste of his valuable time.

It seemed as though the harder he tried to set his resolve not to miss her, the more he did however.

The dreadful loneliness left in her wake was gnawing at him and growing worse by the day as he came to terms with how empty the lab felt in her absence. It was delusional. She'd only joined him little more than a month ago now, and about half of that time she'd spent out of the lair on her own. Yet there was distinctly something missing without her stationed nearby to offer the occasional remark to his mutterings or pestering to get him out of the lair. Existing in a room alone was disheartening now, and somehow the humanoid androids waiting dormant on a work table only worsened the crippling sense of isolation he'd once thought he was accustomed to.

He could have easily ordered henchmen to take her place in the lab to lend an ear and provide conversation and some sense of companionship, but it wouldn't be the same. Henchmen were adept at lazing about, but they couldn't offer the same sort of banter even if they tried, and they certainly weren't a nice sight in his chair and didn't smell so pleasant.

In any case, the empty space served as motivation. Drakken blotted out any hope of his preferred lab hand strolling in at her leisure as he focused intently on drawing out plans on pet projects in between constructing limbs for the torture chair, determined to get the made-to-order device finished as soon as possible, God be willing.

Maybe his motives were questionable – he'd sure appreciate a better understanding of them, anyway – and maybe he was a little ashamed of the compulsive urge, but it was the ache for the stray subordinate's particular brand of company that served as initiative to hurriedly finish the despicable chair riddled with hidden terrors for a loaded villain-wannabe riding on family coattails and cash from daddy's casino. Getting paid was a good motivator too, of course, just a little less compelling than usual.

Drakken fancied the thought of hunting down Shego's mysterious getaway driver to test it out as he loaded up the torture device in the back of the van with the assistance of a henchman, but there was no time for a road-test and the thorough cleaning that would be needed even if he had the offender in his clutches now. He might have let an impish chuckle escape at the wistful idea though. Most of the henchman's face was obscured, but Drakken knew a raised brow when he saw one, and he quickly snapped at the buffoon to get the gate.

He hadn't completely grasped how obscenely early it was until the garage door opened and he saw it was pitch black out. He double-checked his wristwatch. Convinced the dash wasn't reading wrong, he shrugged to himself and disregarded the hour.

If he wanted to make it in time, he had to get a move on it anyway. He'd already arranged yesterday to meet the big-shot today at noon, and there'd be hell to pay if he was late.

He'd informed Joanne Buckley that he'd be borrowing everyone's favorite barista as well. Buckley hadn't been terribly understanding, and Drakken was almost afraid she'd reach through the phone to wring his neck at the short notice in the middle of the night, but her good favor was bribed with a recipe for pumpkin strudel just in time for the holidays. He of course omitted that it was another of his family's secret recipes. No one could duplicate Mother's pumpkin strudel anyway, but they were welcome to try.

Completion of the order and a dire need to hit the road seemed like an acceptable excuse to pull up to Shego's apartment in a shady cargo van at 4am. He was too eager to wait until daybreak, and it was a six hour drive to Las Vegas anyway, if they were lucky.

He was relieved for clear skies and dry weather this time as he crossed the frosty lawn, although the cold nipped him through his jacket. It was still favorable to getting drenched.

As keen as he'd been to hurry over, he found his feet felt like lead as he climbed the staircase to her apartment. The light above her door was off, a jack-o'-lantern beside it dark and ominous and grinning down at him as if mocking him nastily for the heavy feeling in his gut.

If he was nervous, it was because he was surely about to wake a volatile woman who could blast a hole clean through him if she wished with alien fire beyond his understanding.

With that thought in mind, he stood aside just in case as he rang the doorbell.

He expected nothing, to have to ring it again, to have a grouchy disheveled girl swaddled in a blanket answer – so the immediate barking of a dog wasn't the answer he'd anticipated. Before he could even hope it may just be a neighbor's – the landlady had some dogs, didn't she? – the porch light came on and door cracked open for a scrappy young man with patchy stubble to peer out at him.

Bewildered, Drakken took a hasty step back from the barking brown canine stuffing its muzzle through the crack of the chained door. "I-I must have the wrong place. So sorry," he uttered in stupefied reflex. There were only four apartments. He couldn't possibly have the wrong door. Had she relocated without telling him? The fear was quickly dismissed, yet he wasn't comforted either.

"Shut that thing up, man," grouched a familiar voice from inside – which only bewildered him more. Something heavy struck the door, a boot maybe, making the man on her side of it wince. "Who is it?"

"Uh, I'unno, some dude," mumbled the scruffy fellow as he drug the snapping dog back by its collar and shushed it with a kick that nearly earned him teeth in his calf. The boy squinting out the door was either groggy or high, Drakken wasn't sure, but he wasn't leaving now that he knew for certain Shego was inside. "What are…who're…?"

Drakken snapped out of his stupor and a scowl hardened on his face. "Wouldn't you like to know," he retorted, and stepped forward. The young man tried to shut the door, but Drakken's hand held it open, the chain strained taut. He tried to peer over the man's head, but thought twice for privacy's sake, and chose instead to call in, "Pack an overnight bag, sister, we've got business to attend to."

He spun and quickly strode away before she could complain.

He'd been patient long enough, working tirelessly for days now – but a little longer wouldn't kill him. His jaw clenched against the cold the heater had yet to stave off and his fingers drummed on a knee as he was kept waiting for no more than ten minutes.

There was a jolt in his chest when he spied the door to the second story apartment fly open, his assistant practically leaping out of it into the dark. Her hair was wet and plastered flat around her face and down her back from a rushed shower. She wasn't suited up, V-neck sweater and cuffed jeans revealing that much, but her go-bag packed with her gear was slung over her shoulder.

Her company was all but yanked out the door and over the guardrail as she turned to lock up. He was quick to follow on her heels, pulling his mutt along on a leash, clearly displeased by the sudden eviction and hounding her every step. While Drakken couldn't make out their argument, their bickering brought a bitter smirk to his face. He watched hopefully in anticipation of the punk receiving a blast of green embers, but it didn't happen.

Halfway down the steps, Shego jumped over the rail to evade the dog boy. She cut across the lawn, marching toward the van with the persistent ragging droning behind her as the boy jogged to catch up. Drakken was glad he wasn't on the receiving end when Shego abruptly spun on the man at the sidewalk, bidding her indignant pursuer a farewell by shoving him roughly back to the lawn, causing him to slip and fall and a confused playful dog to clobber him.

Whatever they were, they certainly didn't come off as a happy couple, but nonetheless Drakken tried not to consider it might be jealousy churning in his gut as she laughed at the dog boy's misfortune. He still took some comfort in knowing he wouldn't have to share his hired companion for at least the day, and maybe a little longer if he played his cards right.

While dog boy was down, Shego took the opportunity to jump in the van, and Drakken didn't waste time idling.

With streetlights few and far between, it was still rather dark in town, but he could tell she was scowling unappreciatively at him as she combed tangles out of her damp hair with her fingers. "I need more of a heads-up next time, Doc," she groused. "What's so important it couldn't wait until morning?"

"Technically, it is morning," quipped Drakken, and she snorted with a roll of her eyes. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm making a delivery. You're escorting." He braced for her to tell him it sounded too boring for her.

++X++

Shego twisted around to scrutinize the cargo taking up much of the space in the back. She couldn't begin to guess what the large lumpy indistinguishable object was, bundled up in a white sheet and strapped down to keep it from rolling around on the caster wheels peeking out at the bottom. For all she knew, it was a henchman being held hostage. But probably not. The angles were a little too sharp and numerous to be a human body.

An exasperated groan escaped her as she sat back. "You think someone's going to steal Casper?" she mocked. Or maybe it was the ghost of Quasimodo. Whatever it was, it looked like a two-person job just to move.

"Possibly," Drakken said airily, waving a hand. "I need you along to ensure I'm not cheated in this deal."

"I'm just the backup then, huh?" Shego wondered with a weary sigh, but only received a surly grunt in confirmation. "Could've taken a gun or a goon, but no." At this hour, that might have been preferable, but she supposed the job spared her from having to properly deal with the interloping guest that had crashed out on her floor. The unexpected summons may have been a blessing in disguise. She'd been in too much of a rush to beat around the bush trying to clue the junkie in that he wasn't welcome to stay all day.

"I'm sorry, did I inconvenience you?" Drakken sneered testily. "You can go back to sleep if you'd like. I'll wake you when we get there."

Shego stifled a yawn at the mere mention. Her getaway driver's car had been impounded no thanks to her antics, and she hadn't slept well with the junkie sheltering at her place, too uneasy with the unsavory presence to get decent shut eye.

Humming thoughtfully to herself as she leaned forward to survey Drakken, she suspected she'd still had a better night's rest than him. Even for scowling in a manly sort of pout, his eyes were a little extra squinted, his grip on the wheel a little too slack. She swore the bruise-like bags around his eyes were darker than normal too.

The next sign of fatigue was an indisputable delayed reaction time, made clear before they could even leave town when a cat strolled out into the headlights and he nearly ran over the poor creature. A relieving shred of compassion shined through his rough exterior when he slammed on the breaks in the nick of time just as Shego shouted for him to stop and reached for the wheel herself in reflex.

Drakken blinked at the startled kitty scampering off into the dark and rubbed his head with a small groan. He might have mumbled an apology, but mostly whatever came out of his mouth was disjointed and indiscernible, but she got the idea.

Sighing heavily, Shego unbuckled and ordered, "Swap time, Dr. D."

Alarm must have brought him back to his senses somewhat, because he flicked a wide-eyed glance to her. "What? Why?" he asked stupidly, as if she really needed to explain.

Shego reached over to put the van in park before he could object. "You didn't get any sleep tonight, did you?" she guessed. She wondered how many hours straight he'd been working on the lump now covered in the back, but didn't ask. "You need to take better care of yourself."

"What's it matter to you?" he snipped in defense, and put the van back in drive.

"It matters if we crash because you fell asleep at the wheel," she shot back. It should have been an acceptable answer, but he was still too stubborn, his scowl set on the road ahead. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Dr. D."

That was the threat that made him grudgingly stop in the middle of the road once more, but not without a loud grunt of frustration as he yanked off his seatbelt. He stepped into the back to make way for her, and his gesture for her to take the driver's seat would have been polite had he not been glaring so bitterly at her.

"To Vegas," was all Drakken said as he settled into the passenger seat, holding a sidelong frown on her for a long moment.

Before they could leave town however, he'd tucked himself up against the door, popping the collar of his suit and tucking his chin down as if to stay warm. No sooner had they reached the highway did she hear light snoring coming from the passenger seat. He must have been thoroughly drained to go out like a light so quickly.

Seizing control of the van was an act of self-preservation, she told herself. Genuine concern for him had little to do with her commandeering the wheel. It was just a favor, and happened to be in her best interest.

Come daybreak, she couldn't help peering across to her passenger to study the dark ugly bags under his eyes again. She found herself wondering for the umpteenth time if the man ever squeezed in time for rest on his agenda, or if he had some sickness she didn't know about – though her money was on insomniac. During her stay at the lair, she'd caught on he was almost always awake and about long after she'd called it quits for the night, and he'd be up to tackle the day often before she was even out of her PJ's. It was like he was mature enough to set an alarm clock yet still needed to be told when to go to bed, assuming he slept at all.

And come to think of it, he'd been looking particularly rundown since she'd been out of the lair. She wondered if her occasional late-night remarks to go to bed already might have been doing him some good after all. Maybe the big baby did need someone to look after him, Shego mused idly as she drove through her own fatigue. At the very least, he could use someone around to keep him from becoming so distant and lost in his projects that he forgot about leaving the lab for basic needs like sleeping and eating.

Shego frowned back to the road, scolding herself inwardly. As far as ensuring his wellbeing went, she was contractually obligated to protect him, as in bodyguard services, and that was about the extent of it. Keeping him company and making sure he took care of himself wasn't in her job description. If she had any moral obligation to, then it was just a misguided drive to look after someone, anyone, she concluded, and blamed it on the years spent taking care of her brothers in addition to the hero training that had been drilled into her. The loner would probably take advantage of the fault if he knew she had a soft spot. That, or he might be so prideful he'd push her even further away.

Either way, she chastised herself and turned her attention to the more pressing matter of rustling up breakfast.

She'd had too much time to think on the highway. Even pushing the speed limit in the chugging old van, it had taken the better part of the morning to journey from the oasis to Vegas. She'd cast too many glances over at the crotchety man she let snooze the whole way. She'd even gone as far as keeping the radio turned down low or off out of courtesy.

When they finally arrived in Las Vegas, she found it was as busy as she'd expected, if not a little more so depending on what wrong turn she made. In some way, she was glad to have taken up residence in the little middle-of-nowhere town across the desert, because she certainly hadn't missed the traffic of the big city, especially one whipping into a holiday frenzy.

Despite the new ambiance of a bustling tourist town, her companion didn't stir even as she pulled in to the first joint she found with available parking space.

Chewing a nail, Shego watched him for another moment, half expecting Drakken to come around now that she'd cut the engine, but the exhausted man remained dead to the world. He wasn't in the most presentable state, and she had the suspicion he'd overlooked preparing himself for any form of business deal beyond putting on a suit and tie. His hair was clean, but not slicked back or even brushed, and even his suit was a bit unkempt today. She doubted a wardrobe change into something more respectable was an option.

As she contemplated any other option to spruce him up, Shego reached across to remove the glasses slipping from his nose before they could fall, stealing a moment to take in the rare sight. He was considerably less geeky without the great big lenses. The memento she'd left him long ago was shown off better without a rim to hide it as well, which was a bonus for the intimidation factor, but unfortunately he needed his glasses to see, so she pushed them back on. His face scrunched slightly as she did, but he didn't wake.

She dug into her go-bag for a comb and an elastic band next, ignoring the voice of reason that she didn't have to dote on him. Because she wasn't doting, and he wasn't some kind of weird replacement for her little brothers. He was a grown man for goodness sake. She was doing this for herself, because she wasn't going stepping out in public with a bedraggled man. The rumpled suit was bad enough.

++X++

It was while delicate fingers were fumbling behind his head, tugging uncomfortably at his hair, when Drakken's eyes finally blinked open. His company hastily finished whatever terrible trick she'd been up to in time for him to recognize her face far too close to his own, and he recoiled in the same moment her hands left the knot at the back of his head. He reached for it, anticipating another damn braid, but found his hair tied back instead, which wasn't much better.

Pressed into the corner, he opened his mouth to sputter something in indignation at her, but she hummed pleasantly and nodded in an approving way and his complaints died before they could leave his mouth in any discernible manner.

"It works," she chirped, but he was sure he heard sarcasm. "Now I think I can be seen with you."

Before he could articulate a retort, he saw an attempt to give him a curlicue coming when she wet her finger with a pop of her lips and reached for his hairline. He clapped a hand down over the fringe and ducked away from her reach, fumbling for the door handle. "Stop that!" he snapped, face heating as she chuckled blithely and he all but fell out of the van. He didn't need someone else's saliva as part of his hairdo, and he didn't need her deciding for him how he wore it. Still, he smoothed his bangs back as she climbed out the passenger door after him, and he made no move to tear out the band she'd secured at the nape of his neck while he'd been helpless to fend it off.

He slammed the door as she slipped up behind him. She must have been quite proud of herself, as he caught the cheeky woman staving off a smile as he checked his reflection in the side mirror. He wasn't sure how pleased he was by the ponytail she smugly waggled between her fingers, but didn't see a point in going against her over something so trivial, so he let it be. It made his mop look a little tidier, according to her, but he swore for the whole parking lot to hear that he'd lop it off if she told him it was cute one more time. Cute was not something he needed tarnishing the reputation he was already struggling to forge.

Flustered, Drakken tugged on his gloves and straightened his jacket, and he followed his unruly subordinate into the café of her choice.

It didn't smell quite as nice as Buckley's, and it was busier and louder, but fewer people stared, either too busy to care about a blue man or desensitized to Vegas weirdos. Or maybe they assumed his blue skin was part of a premature Halloween costume. There was no telling, really.

In any case, somehow the fresh brewing coffee and sweet scent of baked goods were enough to boost his morale, and it reminded him he was famished too. He kept it to himself how relieved he was she hadn't pulled into some Cow-n-Chow drive-thru for cheap egg sandwiches and weak burnt coffee, but he did sigh wistfully and dryly muse that he wished it was a particular spitfire behind the counter to serve him.

Although the comment earned him an unappreciative elbow in the ribs, the idea brought a wry smirk to his face as he ordered, and he made a mental note to risk running into Buckley to pop in at the café back home sometime to catch Shilo on duty.

He had to wonder if being catered to could compare to the pleasantry of sitting across a table from her though, watching her pick apart an oversized blueberry muffin that sufficed for breakfast. It was the warm aromas in the atmosphere providing a sort of high that brought a smile to his face, nothing else, but she eventually looked up to catch him smirking in her direction and kicked his shin under the table to wipe it from his face.

Otherwise she didn't mention his staring. "Chocolate man, huh?" she chirped. It was the first thing she'd said since placing her own order.

"No shame in that," Drakken replied quickly around a mouthful, and washed down the bite of chocolate muffin with a gulp of mocha. For a moment, he tried to watch out the window as Shego had been, watching little plagues of starlings swarm like small black clouds to scavenge around the parking lot, but her unmoving stare on him now made him peek back. "Something the matter?"

"Dr. Drakken," she said firmly, clearly enunciating his title with a disheartening note of formality. He slurped his mocha uneasily under the weight of the suspicious jaded gaze fixed on him. "If this was just a delivery, we could be home by dinnertime. Any particular reason you had me pack an overnight bag?"

There wasn't. Not one he'd really thought through anyway, except that he wasn't planning to be home by dinnertime. And if luck would have it that a motel room was in order later – he stopped that train of thought in its tracks. A go-bag was just a precaution. It was always just a precaution, albeit not one he was in the habit of taking himself. Besides, it was absurd to expect her to layer up to conceal her uniform every time he needed to drag her off somewhere. She was just teasing him. He could tell by the tiny smile quirking at the corners of her mouth he was determined not to glance toward.

Drakken floundered, gaping like a fish out of water. Did she have to stare at him? "I just thought after we finish this errand, we could stick around a while and – scope out some places to maybe – um. It's been a while since I've had anyone to hang out with, and since you moved out, well…we haven't really since then, and, um – you've been nagging me—"

He couldn't even tell what he was trying to say himself, but somehow she must have got the gist of it. She turned her eyes down to watch the anxious fidget of his fingers before interjecting with a scoff, "Dude, you are so desperate."

Her lips pressed into a flat line as if trying to stave off the smirk that inevitably cracked across her face a moment later when he choked on an indignant objection even less coherent than his plea for company. She was absolutely right. He was desperate. Delusionally desperate.

She popped another piece of muffin in her mouth and sat back, her smirk stretching wider. "As long as I'm getting paid, I don't see why not," she added nonchalantly. "We can go tagging or something."

Just like that, his hopes soared higher than he was willing to let them. Her willingness to give him her time had him grinning like a fool nonetheless, despite a sinful warmth bleeding in his chest. "Child's play," he quipped. He was treading in dangerous water just looking up at her. "Sounds delightful."

Drakken made a mental note he'd have to keep a cap on letting it show how pleased he was to have her beside him for the day. She was paid company, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it. It was worth every penny having someone to conduct a little illicit business with.

The day couldn't possibly get better.

A/N:
And so begins a crazy Friday in which Dr. D gets more than he bargained for... :3