woops...another short chapter. My bad.
Next is longer, promise.

33. Aura of Others – 6

Soon enough, the beeping of the alarm clock that didn't belong to her woke her. Even if she'd wanted to wake up, fighting off sleep when someone hit the blessed snooze button was impossible given the sleep aid still in her system. She groaned wretchedly when the beeping sounded off again, and blearily hoped hearing it wouldn't become the norm. She didn't mind the bed or the poofy bedding or anything else – but that clock could go to hell.

Shego pulled herself up onto the mount of pillows and collapsed before she could reach the accursed clock to mangle it. It was Saturday. She didn't have to wake up at any set time on a Saturday. If Drakken wanted to, that was great. But he wasn't going to get her up with a mere grouchy order to do so and a shake of her shoulder.

He was given the middle finger in reply – enough to let him know she was aware of his attempt to wake her, and enough to let him know she wasn't ready to be woken.

The mattress shifted. And shifted again. And – he was bouncing. The imbecile madman was bouncing next to her, like a petulant twerp trying to get her up for the day, bouncing on his knees and disjointedly enunciating her name to make sleep definitely impossible.

"Knock it off, Wes—Will—Drakken!" she snarled and grabbed one of the numerous pillows to strike him with. The force plowed him sideways.

Just as she turned to glare in his direction, the gesture was returned, thwapping her upside the head. Hand snapping out in reflex, she caught the pillow, feeling the fabric rip. It certainly did the trick to wake her.

When the surprise wore off a split-second later, she shot daggers up at Drakken. His eyes flew wide and he released the gutted pillow and threw his hands up as he realized he'd made a grave mistake by hitting her back, even as harmless as it was. He sprang back as she lunged at him. She wasn't sure what she was going for – his throat to wring his neck? – but she'd underestimated the size of the bed and felt stupid crawling after him instead. She managed to give him a shove though, only to come toppling off the edge of the bed gracelessly with him.

Drakken let out a squeal. She'd heard the shrill sound before, but it was especially startling when his eyes bugged behind his glasses and he curled up with her fingers still dug into his sides, his knee catching her in the stomach. Tangled in the sheets drug with them, she pushed against him in a scrambling effort to break free, but each inadvertent poke and prod drew a strangled laugh or squeak from him.

Perturbed, Shego deliberately reached under an arm before she could convince herself she didn't want to go there.

Sure enough, he jerked and writhed and sucked in air and swore at her, "Dammit – Shego – stop it! I've got a pounding headache." His smile was more of a grimace as she snuck in another probing tip-tap along his side, and his arms clamped down tight. She could believe the headache part. He may have laughed, but he didn't look like he found the experience particularly enjoyable. Still, it was hard to believe what she was seeing.

"You can't seriously be ticklish," she criticized, kneeling over him.

Drakken gasped for air, still wincing against his hangover. "I'm not," he practically wined in defense. "Not usually. I-I mean. You're not?" She didn't have to answer that. He was only trying to shift the subject away from his unconvincing lie.

Yet she answered anyway. "Nope," she popped. Just as she sat back, he got a peculiar look in his eye that made it hard to believe he really had a headache after all. Maybe he was a better liar than she thought. "Doc. Doc, don't – don't even think about it!"

As he began to sit up, a crooked smile crossed his face and his fingers teased the air in threat. It was a little too creepy for her taste. If she weren't still under the influence of her suppressant, she would have burned him when she caught him by the wrists, pinning them to his gut and driving the wind out of him as she shoved him back down.

Drakken wheezed as she scowled down at him. His glasses sat crooked on his nose and his hair had dried in a total mess. He wasn't wearing a shirt. She really wished he was wearing a shirt. He blew a puff in defeat and grumbled, "Fine. But I'd still like to test that theory."

It wasn't a theory. It was a fact. And even if it wasn't a fact – it was still too hazardous to test. Then again, she was medicated. Shego scoffed. "Not by groping me, you aren't," she scoffed.

"I wasn't—!" he began in defense and grunted through grit teeth as he let his head drop to the floor. He winced at the impact and skewed his frown back up at her. She should get up and go – any time now would be good – but she stayed hovered over him, securing his hands safely to his belly. Her eyes cut back up to his as he asked, "Can I guess—?"

"Guess all you want." She lurched back, releasing him as if he'd burned her. "I'm not—hey!" The instant she let go, before the denial could leave her lips, swift fingers skittered up her sides to her armpits. The fleeting feathery touch caused a bigger reaction than she could have anticipated, and she couldn't be sure she liked it as she seized and squirmed at the same time. A strangled yelp no more elegant than his ticklish squeals escaped her throat and she wanted nothing more than to kick him for it.

The man sat up with her and chuckled proudly, until she caught the offending hands to squeeze them, her nails digging into the backs. His smirk didn't yield as she ground out in warning, "You're playing with fire, Doc." If only she had the firepower at the moment to prove her point.

"I know." Drakken's arrogant shit-eating grin was ultimately too close – but that was perhaps on her, given she was technically in his lap. If it weren't for rank morning breath, she might not have been so opposed to it.

Shego jerked back and let go as she shifted away, untangling herself once and for all from the bedsheets wound up around them. "Ugh," she groaned, waving a hand in front of her face. "Were you midnight-snacking on cheese?" she accused.

His smile fell and his face tinged purple – a deeper purple, anyway. "You're one to talk!" he snapped back, getting to his knees and frowning up at her. "You took the bag for yourself and fell asleep on it."

"I did?" she blurted, following his gesture toward the bed. Sure enough, a bag of cheddar in the sheets stood testimony, as did the shredded cheese flattened to her shirt... or rather, Drakken's shirt – the same faded concert tee from the other night – worn over her own. She had no recollection of any midnight cheese indulgences. Her face burned as she wondered what other indulgences she might have had – but she didn't ask aloud.

Mostly because Drakken was grumbling in addition, "And you snore. Loudly."

She was already flustered. She didn't need him rubbing anything else in. "Wow," she scoffed. "Turn down the charm, will ya?"

"One of us has to make up for the difference." He smoothed back his disheveled hair and pointed a finger-gun her way. He scratched his neck then and peered around her just as she began to turn away. "Uhm. Don't go out there."

"Why not?"

"My mother's asleep on the couch."

Shego paused. "Your mother?"

"Yes," he said and began to explain with an excess of sporadic hand gestures. "You know. The mother who showed up unannounced in the middle of the night last night because I got in a teeny-tiny little argument with her yesterday over the phone, and it turns out my cousin's wife gave her my address and now she's here. That mother."

Shego rubbed her temples. "Oof," she breathed. She hardly remembered any of it. Certainly no mention of a heated phone call or his cousin's wife. "She rode a motorcycle here, right?"

"Yes."

"Rad."

Drakken clearly didn't think so, by the shudder he gave. "She may not look it, but she's a bat out of hell on wheels. She must have been furious if she broke her oath not to ride again, let me tell you." He cracked a flimsy smile, but it was far from genuine. "I was scared shitless last night."

Shego crossed her arms and glanced between the door and him again. Her eyes fell on the clock above the bed. It was only a quarter past six in the morning. It had been around midnight when she'd collapsed in his bed. The bedding was a disaster now, but it was still tempting to pull a blanket over herself and dissolve back into it, cheese or no cheese.

Instead, Drakken was passing her, patting her shoulder and lowering his voice to advise she meet him in the garage – without being seen.