More self-indulgent fluff. :B
My power is still out, but driveling on~

18. The Nature Of – part6

His bedroom wasn't soundproof. If anything, he swore the cavern walls amplified every noise from adjacent rooms. So when Drakken heard the television flick on in the den, he could only groan to himself and muffle the sound with a pillow. He blamed the TV for keeping him up.

Although Shego still had her own room to retire to, it seemed she was as adamant as ever against using it, as he found her asleep on the couch the next morning. He vaguely recalled tossing her a blanket, so it wasn't a complete surprise she was exactly where he'd left her. He wasn't ready to complain just yet either, even though the television was still on.

His head still throbbed anyway, and self-medicating took precedence. Careful to keep the noise down for the sake of his headache and not waking his guest, the sobering doctor took care of the morning business of brewing a fresh pot of coffee before gravitating back to the living room with his mug.

Grabbing the remote from the armrest on the way to his chair, he flipped to the local news to wait for any indication that the mess they'd stirred last night had made headlines. He listened more than watched it though, his heavy-lidded gaze soon straying back toward the couch where his partner in crime was still sound asleep.

Finding comfort or any joy at all in finding her crashed in his living room was downright backward considering she'd moved out in the first place to keep him safely out of the equation in preparation of her inevitable discovery by her superhero family. He really had missed the regular sight of her lounging wherever she pleased though, be it his couch, computer chair, or even his desk. Uninvited or otherwise, her presence alleviated the weight of solitude, and now that he was getting used to it, he was becoming rather fond of it rather quickly.

Watching her now, he had the sense that maybe she wasn't really as far out of reach as she'd come to seem as of late. It couldn't have been as simple as asking for her company, but maybe it was. He knew his chaotic chosen company could detach his head from his shoulders if she so wished, but maybe the hazard was part of the appeal.

News reports eventually fell on deaf ears.

Dr. Drakken didn't really mean to stare so long at the slow breathing of the slumbering superhuman curled up comfortably nearby, bundled in a blanket he'd spared last night in his haze.

He especially didn't mean to relocate to the spine of the couch or reach down to part her hair to inspect the neat little slice across her temple. The cut had nothing on the gouge that had nearly taken out his eye just a few years ago. At least the bleeding had stopped and it had scabbed over. He couldn't be sure if she'd ever mentioned a superhuman healing rate or if he'd just gathered that from observation, but the thought of being familiar enough already with her wounds to not be too worried about them was enough to worry him.

There was no telling when she would next spend the night, let alone in the open and vulnerable to prying eyes, but he still blamed last night's poor choices for his staring.

He didn't care to hear what she'd have to say about it if she caught him, so at the first sign of her stirring, he was out of there, hopping up so fast he nearly spilled his now-cold coffee on himself as he abruptly decided his time was better spent tinkering in the lab.

He was taking inventory of the crates of materials he had at his disposal when he heard the door to his quarters creak open, followed by a notable lack of pitter-patter of his guest's feet absconding to her room. If only he'd turned to glance back, he might have seen her sneaking up on him like a blanket-swaddled ghost, and he might not have jumped when she cleared her throat just behind his back.

Drakken spun, and she leaned back from the inadvertent swing of a crowbar he'd been using to wrench open the crates. He threw the offending tool and winced as it struck the stone floor with an ear- and head-splitting clang that reverberated through the cavern.

"Hnnng! What?" he grunted, rubbing his brow and making a point to relax his jaw. Through squinted eyes and throbbing headache, he saw Shego clutching his blue blanket tighter around herself.

"Can I bum a sweater off you?" she all but croaked. Her cheeks tinged pink and she reached for her throat as she quietly cleared it to get the frog out. Drakken squinted incredulously at her, questioning silently, and she glanced off toward the hall leading to her quarters. "I don't have much left here since you kicked me out, and I'm not wearing this in public," she explained, parting the blanket to flash a glimpse of the googly-eyed sleepy-time owl on the front of her tank top.

"Will I get it back?" asked Drakken warily, though he was already working up the nerve to take a step around her to fetch her something regardless.

"Maybe," was her blunt and carefree answer.

He yielded despite the lack of assurance. He had enough sweaters lying about anyway, he could stand to lose one. Just to spite her, he had half a mind to select a gaudy cable-knit his mother had fashioned from lumpy yarn, but it had sentimental value even as ugly as it was, so he grabbed one of the cheap black pullovers from his closet to toss at the woman slumped sideways and already half-asleep again in his computer chair.

She unwrapped herself from the blanket, revealing she'd already dressed from the waist down into jeans and sneakers, and Drakken tried not to pause or stare as she added his sweater to her outfit. He was just being a good host, as his mother had brought him up to be. Nothing about the sight of his accomplice should have spurred a warm swell in his chest.

He could tell himself that all he wanted, but it didn't make it go away.

After she'd taken a catnap in his computer chair behind him and sucked down a mug of coffee – since when did she keep her own mug in his cabinets anyway? – Shego swaggered up to him to hover over his shoulder for a moment.

He tried to ignore her as he crouched to set up a handy tripod kit to serve as the base stand for a new laser cannon he hoped to realize and auction off soon. He shut his eyes to visualize it and shut her out but didn't get far in the wistful train of thought.

"I take it your hangover must not be too bad, huh, Doc?" Shego mused, her voice clearer now and closer to normal. He could feel her critical eyes on him and the skeletal folding legs of the tripod he was bolting together. At a flap of paper, he turned a sharp glare over his shoulder up at her to see Shego flipping through pages of schematics and blueprints. "Think you can take a break from this bizarro-techno cannon thing you're articulating here or are you gonna assign me an escort? 'Cause I'm not walking home."

"Give those back," Drakken grouched, rising from the floor. He reached for the papers, but she held them out of reach only to whap him on the head with them before returning the crucial plans. He grunted and stooped to grab his wrench from the floor. The motion made his head pound. He grimaced and rubbed his eyes, answering, "It's the boys' day off. Who knows where they're scattered."

"Well aren't you lucky," she said dryly, snatching the tool from him. He hoped she wouldn't hit him over the head with it next. "Looks like you're taking me home."

Drakken barked a laugh. In her moment of surprise, he swiped the wrench back only to toss it down into the toolbox sitting in disarray at his feet. "How do you propose I do that?" he scoffed. "You drove my car into the ocean and then wrecked my van in a desert. I'm going to have to replace those—"

"Oh, you wished on a star for a station wagon, and you know it," she mocked.

He blew a raspberry. "That run down piece of junk was not one of my wishes," he said with a shake of his head that only fed the migraine.

Shego stood quietly as he skulked away to return the blueprints safely to the desk where they belonged. "What did you wish for, then?" she called after him.

He nearly tripped before he got there. A shrug and a scratch of his neck and a mumbled, "I haven't the faintest," was the safest possible answer. Because wishing she'd stick around long enough to see him make a name for himself and for hers to be broadcast on television beside his was just that: wishful thinking. Sooner or later, he'd be backstabbed or make a grievous mistake, and everyone he'd ever known drifted away eventually. It was best not to get too attached.

Although it was too late for that. He'd already made a grievous mistake. He'd left an opening and she'd wasted no time wheedling her way in past his walls and planting something in his chest, and the fact was indisputable when he couldn't look at her in his sweater without feeling the invasive weed bloom.

He was doing favors. He was being nice. He was only playing his cards right so he could take advantage of her invaluable services, and nothing more. The idea that it might be manipulative twisted in his gut, but they had an understanding of what they wanted from each other from the get-go. Her company wasn't part of the deal and contractually she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to, so he surely must be disillusioned if he thought the hand on his shoulder now was some form of amity.

Shego was tugging him back from his desk. "Come on, doc," she said. "It's almost noon, but if we hurry, we can catch breakfast at Cow-n-Chow before the menu change."

His stomach growled at the mere mention. He wrapped an arm around himself and bit back a groan. "I can cook—"

"I have to go home eventually."

Drakken sighed and straightened up. "You have no shame in taking advantage and bending me to your will, do you?"

She smirked and his knees felt weak. "None whatsoever," she answered wryly. She grabbed him by the necktie next, and like a dog on a leash, he was towed away from his desk and cannon project.

Even if she was leaving sooner than he would have liked – and involved risking taking the stolen car back out in public in broad daylight, identifying busted rear window be damned – at least the venture wasn't without some benefit. Shego directed him to hit up the drive-thru, her reasoning being that leaving the stolen vehicle too long in a parking lot visible from Main Street raised the likelihood of a patrol car cruising by and recognizing it. Although Dr. Drakken was fairly certain he'd never seen an officer in town before, Shego assured him there were. When questioned how she knew, she clammed up.

He might have been more irked by her causing trouble around town if it didn't sting to know she'd been causing it without him. Glaring at the road only served to spike his lingering headache.

Drakken expected to drop her off, but once he stopped at the curb, she grabbed the single paper sack of Chow and nodded to the apartments as she popped her door.

"It'll be cold by the time you get back," Shego explained, an offer in her tone.

It didn't require much effort on her part for him to take the bait, even as hesitant as he now was to leave the stolen vehicle in the open for prying eyes. If it was swarmed by police or impounded in the next few minutes, so be it.

It was worth it to watch her climb the staircase ahead of him, allowing him an opportunity to imprint in his mind the way his sweater hung around her. It reminded him of her slim figure in contrast to his own frame, and he squared his shoulders with a small flicker of pride, which was blown out when she turned to glance down at him as she reached the top.

He tore his stare away, peeking back at the exposed station wagon once more before following his accomplice inside.

The studio was still bare-bones, but beginning to look lived in. It was cold though, and the space heater required a thump before it began glowing and radiating heat. The bed in the niche was off the floor now, and unmade but at least there were blankets and pillows. Across from it was a television with a small stock of disorganized VHS tapes, a few of which Drakken was sure came from his own entertainment center. On the floor in between, more blankets and a spare pillow, which Shego was quick to kick under her bed along with the betraying rattle of cans.

Drakken rolled his eyes, deciding not to comment on the mess. Her face was flushed enough already as she flicked on the TV, tweaked the rabbit-ears, and rejoined him once she had the news playing across the room.

A round café table stood on a single leg in the dining area in the heart of the kitchen, paired with mismatched chairs, one folding and the other a proper wooden dining chair. It was all undoubtedly second-hand and Drakken had a hunch also stolen property. But it served its purpose.

His gaze shifted to the VHS tapes and back to the old table. "Did you take that from Jackass's?" he wondered. What other decor had she stolen?

Shego scoffed. "Steal from my boss? Never." A wily smirk flashed across her face for a split second.

Drakken rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

Plastic utensils and styrofoam platters of warm flapjacks with Cow-n-Chow specialty maple syrup had a certain charm, though he still wondered inwardly if she had the supplies on hand to whip up a second serving. Which was a ridiculous thought, given he was barely halfway through his own meal by the time she'd nearly cleared her tray. She'd made quick work of her breakfast, even with her eyes glued to the television clear across the room.

He couldn't be sure when she'd paused to look his way with an arched eyebrow, but suddenly she was calling his name – pet name, rather – and he blinked away the stupor.

"Dr. D? You good, buddy?" she chirped, breaking the silence that had settled, otherwise interrupted only by the droning weather forecast. She stabbed at her side of scrambled eggs to mix up with her chopped sausage patty. He was starting to gather she had a big appetite she was hesitant to show. "You look tired," she added after a moment, making him realize he was mute and still staring.

Drakken shook his pounding head and took an idle look about the shabby little studio. His eyes fell on the dripping faucet. "I'm dandy," he uttered, the most he could manage at the moment as he got his thoughts in order.

"You sure? You kinda zoned out there," said Shego critically.

"This syrup is too sweet. It's giving me a toothache," he griped, reaching to rub his cheek, but maybe it was a poor attempt to hide behind his hand. It wasn't completely a lie anyway, although he still had to hope he didn't sound too defensive or deceitful. He wasn't about to admit he'd been marveling over something as trivial as having someone to share a meal with, even if it was in a crappy apartment and served on styrofoam. He knew better, but he couldn't quite freeze the warmth in his belly. Letting her lure him inside may have been a mistake.

Shego hummed and popped up to get into her fridge, almost as if intentionally putting herself back in his line of sight.

He frowned back toward the television instead, the weather having shifted to something about holiday festivities. A hectic Friday night was enough for one week, so he kept his lips zipped tight, lest he ask for her Halloween night as well. The bluffed toothache was really beginning to get to him anyway, making it easier to divert his thoughts. He glared to the cup of syrup, deciding there had to be some creative way to twist the offending condiment into something devious and profitable.

A mug was pushed across the table to him then. He stared at it and up to Shego still stirring what he had to guess was a tall glass of tart lemonade. She shrugged and mumbled, "Hot cocoa. Something to wash it down might help the toothache."

He was reluctant to admit that it did the trick. All the more reluctant when she was watching him. She took a couple more bites of her breakfast before she shook her head and snorted on a small laugh, earning his glare. "I'm sorry," she muttered behind her wrist, waving a hand. "You know you're still, uhm. Still wearing those?"

Drakken checked himself over, unsure what she was gesturing at until she reached across to grab his wrist to push back his sleeve. He had only a fuzzy recollection of how a pair of separated metal cuffs may have wound up clasped around his wrists, and in all honesty, he was so used to wearing wristwatches that he'd been obliviously numb to them until now.

He took his hand back from her to rub his aching head. "What did we do last night?" he grumbled. He wasn't expecting an answer.

Shego gave a hearty laugh as she stood. "You don't remember?" she called back teasingly just before shoveling the last of her food in her mouth to toss her cleared tray in the trashcan.

"The officer," he mumbled, and suddenly he jumped up, gawping at her. "You killed a man last night!" he accused.

Shego shook her head, unkempt hair bouncing around her face. "I'm sure he's fine," she dismissed and nodded to the television as she sauntered back across the room on her way to the dresser beside it. "Nothing about it on TV, anyway. He probably woke up and didn't remember a thing." She sounded optimistic.

Drakken grunted, deciding she may have a point. Total amnesia might be the best-case scenario, but if last night's mischief involved the murder of an officer, then it would surely be all over the news. He supposed he was somewhat to blame as well for letting things get so far out of hand. So he sat back down to sip on his hot cocoa and push his tray of half-eaten pancakes aside, deciding he wasn't very hungry anymore.

Returning to the kitchen, Shego scooted the heavy wooden dining chair over, and Drakken arched his brow at her as she yanked his wrist across the table toward her. A couple of simple pins did the trick to free his wrist, and he gladly surrendered the other.

No sooner had she given him his hands back to let him rub his wrists did the trill of a telephone give him a start. Shego was frozen on the edge of her seat.

"Are you going to answer that?" he uttered when she didn't move a muscle.

Shego sighed and slowly stood. "Probably," she said lazily. She patted his shoulder as she sidestepped around behind him, noting, "You need to get going, huh? You've got a cannon to build. I'd hate to keep you."

He understood the hint, but he wasn't one to take being brushed off so readily. So he hummed as he rose, savoring the fact she hadn't stepped away, so he could stare down at her impatient frown. He cracked a smirk. "I take it then that you don't want to hear how I plan to tamper with the production of leading syrup brands to cause mass hysteria and sell an antidote for a pretty penny?" It was a stretch, but he'd decide if he was joking or not depending on her reaction.

Shego rolled her eyes. She didn't need to verbally tell him what she thought of the ludicrous idea, but she did anyway. "You are indeed a madman, Dr. Drakken," she said, giving him a thump on the chest. Her eyes dropped, and she tugged his tie snug around his neck. "Good thing it suits you."

His stare was momentarily locked on the teeth sinking into her lip.

Drakken decided suddenly that he really did have that cannon to get back to. He stepped back hastily, searching for the door. "Well, see you around," he chimed with a betraying nervous waver. "Thank you for the cocoa moo – uh – hot cocoa."

The sound of the telephone ringing off the hook followed him out the door, which reminded him of something important. It could wait though. Now probably wasn't the time to double back to ask his accomplice for her number.

She could keep the sweater.