Small and indulgent.
Forgive me.

45. Whose Side – 8

Fears running rampant in his mind, Drakken didn't know what he expected to find. He'd been braced for the worst but he couldn't believe what he was greeted with when he arrived.

Gawping in dismay, he caught sight of none other than Shego, soggy and disheveled and diving behind her broad-shouldered friend as though suddenly bashful. He hadn't seen much, but he'd seen enough to tell she was showing too much skin for his liking. The golden boy sat with his eyes covered – either out of courtesy or to shield from the lights shining on him – as he passed back articles of clothing to Drakken's unruly accomplice.

He'd expected some kind of trap when a stranger rang him up in the dead of the night not half an hour ago. He'd been prepared to hang up, but the words, "Come get your girlfriend," had stopped him. Given only the briefest of instructions, he hit the road without a moment to spare to so much as correct the caller.

Now Drakken stepped out of the borrowed Beetle, unsure if he was ready to storm over just yet. When he glimpsed his accomplice's legs as she struggled to get her sneakers on sans socks, he decided she must be decent enough for him to approach – not that she'd given much regard to her appearance before he'd arrived, considering she'd clearly just come crawling out of the lake in her undergarments, her stark black hair plastered against fair skin—

He blinked away the image from his mind and wrung his hands behind his back as he circled the fire pit. He ignored the drunken twittering greeting of the girl still crouched in the water.

Drakken cleared his throat and staved off exasperated sputters to clearly ask, "Just what is going on here?"

Shego paused, struggling to lace a sneaker. She leaned against the unhappy golden boy's back, and just as soon as a look of fright flashed fresh and bright in her eyes, she leaned even heavier into the big brute and her gaze softened. "Uhm. Ch-chillin'?" she stuttered, and jabbed a finger over her shoulder and past the Mickey boy to a near-empty case of beer. "Ya want one?"

"Shego," Drakken ground out in both disapproval and disappointment.

"Oh, what?" she snipped, clumsily picking herself up. He didn't expect her to trip forward and jab a finger hard into his chest, pressing with sarcasm, "S'alright for me to drink with you but not my friends?"

He balked. "Friends?" That had been a fast turnaround.

His tipsy accomplice turned to give the young man's hair a tousle with a drunken chuckle. "Yeah. Friends. Right?" she asked down to Mickey for affirmation.

Drakken narrowed his eyes down on the quiet fellow who didn't so much as give a nod. His lip curled in disdain but he spared him the benefit of the doubt, barely. After all, the brute had been the one to call him practically pleading for him to retrieve Shego. But that didn't mean he trusted him. In more ways than one, the phone call had sounded like a threat, or maybe a warning.

Before Drakken could remark, Shego's whole soggy body had come lurching forward, forcing him to take half a step back to brace himself as one arm curled around his waist and sticky wet raven hair tickled beneath his chin as she slumped into him for support. With her other hand she waved with wiggling fingers down to Mickey. Drakken couldn't say he entirely disliked the feel of her contented hum with her cheek pressed above his heart.

"Alright, see ya," she said to the young man finally daring to peek out from behind his hand. "Looks like I've got better places to be."

Mickey grunted in lieu of a goodbye. "Good catching up."

Drakken realized he'd been frozen in place. Blinking out of his stupor before his intoxicated companion could change her mind, he pulled an arm around her shoulders to guide her back up the hill to the Beetle while she mumbled about clown cars.

It was up to him to reach over and fasten her seatbelt as she was too busy trying to fog the window with her breath, her brow scrunching. Dissatisfied, she rolled the window down instead while Drakken cast one last heated glare at the two interlopers left by the campfire, the soaked troublemaker shrouded by the young man's coat now watching them go. Shego flipped the girl the bird out the window, which was returned with playful enthusiasm.

She sat back then with a loud huff and a pleased grin on her face. "She's a bitch," she said decisively.

"You can say that again," he muttered to himself, and she did. If he'd been in a better mood, he might have found it funny. Instead he rolled his eyes, and before pulling out onto the highway he had to pause to scrub his face, grumbling into his hands, "I don't know what you were thinking."

His tipsy passenger grunted something indignant and pulled a handful of cassette tapes from her coat pocket then only to clumsily drop them across her lap and curse under her breath while she collected them again. "Chester's leaving," she announced, though Drakken hadn't the faintest clue which of her friends Chester even was. He frowned deeply at the thought she was out making friends while he'd resigned to her as his only friend. He wondered fleetingly if he'd only been overestimating how much of his friend she really was – but she was quickly derailing his train of thought as she popped a tape in.

Before she could turn the volume up, she became distracted with reaching across for his ungloved hand on the wheel. Drakken flinched at the brush of her chilly fingers. Her hand over his on the wheel brought back the not-too-distant memory of Shego taking control of the van by force while he'd still been driving it. Hopeful to deter her from trying a similar stunt in case she steered them into the lake, he shifted his hand to hold hers, discreetly relocating it back to her own side before letting go. He didn't miss her smirk at him as he did.

Suddenly she wiped the look off her face and turned to stare out the reservoir the highway was now skirting around. "We should go swimming sometime," she suggested between yawns, breaking the short silence between them. "It would be like going to the beach. I miss the beach." She wiggled her feet and mumbled about sand between her toes before stealing a glance back up at him. "Anywhere you miss?"

He was too tired for this. "I don't know," he grumbled, stroking his chin as he reigned in a temper that just couldn't come to boil. "My lab?"

"I thought you said he was a beagle?"

Drakken grimaced at her mumbled curiosity and shot a peek at her. "Shego, if I may ask? What have you indulged in tonight?"

Her wry smirk fell and a sheepish look overcame her as she fidgeted, combing at her damp hair idly. "Just the beer. They weren't even that good. I only had a couple."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She chewed her nails next.

He grunted again, studying her out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't forgotten about the sneaky infiltrator handing him strange medication like it was no big deal, and especially not her suggestion of what he ought to do with the pills. With Miss Kimbley wishing her ill, he couldn't shake the suspicion.

"Shego," he called again, and she hummed in reply, her frown on the reservoir fading from view. "Can I bum a smoke off you?"

She seemed caught off guard, blinking over at him with a perturbed squint."You sure?"

He beckoned for her to hand him a cigarette, and after a moment of fishing in her pockets, she procured one and reluctantly forked it over. He scrutinized it. "Would it be too much a bother to ask for a light?"

Her jaw fell open and all she could mutter was, "Uhh…" But nonetheless she raised a hand, a fingertip pressed to the end of the cigarette as her face twisted in concentration. After a moment, a realization flashed in her eyes and she balled her hand into a fist instead, striking the door with a curse.

"That's what I thought," muttered Drakken in grief, dropping the cigarette in the center console. He found himself wondering what could have happened had the Mickey fellow not called him requesting he pick up his delinquent companion – but stopped the thought with a shudder.

"I only got one s'more," was somehow Shego's only complaint, coming out in a grouchy whine. "I should eat something. I'm hungry."

Drakken sighed, wondering inwardly if food could take the edge off the effects. At least she was lucid this time around. Meanwhile she grumbled as she evaluated herself, sounding hopeful she hadn't had a full dose and muttering about a bug in her last drink.

At the first glowing sign promising a bite to eat, he swung into the parking lot and cut the engine. It was just after midnight, but Pancake Palace was open 'round the clock and they weren't the only patrons tonight.

"It's cold," grumbled Shego as she popped the door after him. The cold hadn't seemed to bother her during her little dip at the lake, but Drakken bit back that comment. She tugged at his sleeve as they crossed the parking lot and he glanced over to her. She'd shed her own damp jacket. When had she lost that? Her shirt sticking to her form hadn't dried yet, and he quickly averted his eyes.

Drakken paused with a grunt of frustration, glancing back to the Beetle and then back to her briefly before shrugging out of his jacket hurriedly and tossing it at her. He smoothed his sleeves and stalked for the entrance as she pulled it on over herself with a satisfied smirk, and he ignored her contented mumblings as she related the shearling jacket to a baked potato.

He soon found himself holding his head slumped over a table at a booth at the breakfast-specialty hub for late-night diners. Shego sat across from him, happily putting away a plate of flapjacks topped with whipped cream and strawberries. She hummed and swung her feet, kicking his shins twice unintentionally and once intentionally to get his attention.

"Regretting me yet?" she called over almost jokily.

He took a deep breath and a long gulp of his coffee, grimacing as the horrid taste aided in waking him a little. "Do you think you ought to stay at the lair—uhm, with me for a while?" he asked rather than answer her question.

She reached over to pull an especially delectable strawberry from his plate onto hers, as though she didn't have enough of her own. He didn't argue. He didn't have much an appetite at the moment anyway, though it reminded him to take a bite. Shego savored the strawberry with a pleased hum. "I'unno," she muttered around a mouthful. "Tonight, sure. If I get the couch."

Drakken dropped his fork to reach across the table. "Deal." He wasn't sure who had the syrup on their hands responsible for sticky fingers now, but he grunted and grimaced. "You're not going to see them anymore, are you?" He hoped not, but he had the sense it was unavoidable.

Shego slowed her chewing, looking thoughtful, and her eyes cast from the window down to her plate. "Can't guarantee that one, Doc."

He didn't like the prospect of that. "Why?"

"I think she's gonna replace Chester," she said, sounding reasonably unhappy about it. He wasn't sure who Chester was or the significance. Shego glanced up to see the confused arch of his brow and her eyes darted back down. "There was this…recruiter or something earlier at Buckley's," she explained. "For LHU. She picked Chester, Buckley's kitchen hand."

His frown lingered on Shego a long moment more before he remembered to take a bite of his own flapjacks. "Well, congratulations to Chester."

"Do you want me?" blurted Shego suddenly, and Drakken dropped his fork as his wide-eyed gaze snapped back up to her blushing face staring back at him. He noticed her hands gripping the table but no plasma sneaking out, and no glitter of green to accompany her blush. "I mean – uh – if you – if I – fuck." She hissed and shifted, sinking down in her seat and running her fingers through her damp hair as she glared out the window instead to avoid looking at him. "If I went…there? Would you still be interested in me?"

Drakken's face had warmed over as well, and he tried to quit gawping at her like such a fool. "Uhm…what?" he practically squawked. What was she getting at? His heart hammered as he reeled at possibilities he found himself swearing were off the table. Perhaps this was a conversation better had when she was sober.

"If I went for this henchschool thing. You said I should go and get an education for a backup plan, right? But it doesn't happen overnight. It would be a few years. Would you still want my help by then?"

He continued to stare, puzzled until the pieces fell into place as he determined what she was asking of him. The answer was obvious enough to him.

Shego said nothing for a long moment but finally looked back to him.

Drakken picked his fork back up and grimaced down to his meal and glanced back up to her staring at him, waiting for an answer. He wasn't sure how to answer her. Truthfully he hadn't thought too thoroughly that far ahead. Of course he wanted her help long-term – he rather liked having her around too, so much that not having her around was already disheartening even if he was still barely getting to know her – but he had his own question weighing on his mind.

"In a few years, will you still be interested in humoring me?"

The young woman across from him bit her lip and scrunched her brow in thought. He didn't miss the way she hugged his coat tighter around herself and his heart dared to thud a little louder. "I think it's entirely possible." She flashed him a smirk. "I wanna see what you can do, bad boy." Her nervous smirk wavered as she glanced down. "You gonna finish that?"

Drakken sighed and pushed his plate across to her. He'd already had dinner earlier and she'd eaten more than he had off it already anyway. "We'll put a pin in this LHU thing," he said decisively, and she grunted in agreement as she was hardly paying attention to him, still a touch high from her medication and lost in savoring mouthfuls of sugary breakfast foods.

He checked his watch and rubbed his eyes. As tempting as it was to show her some bad boy misbehavior by dining and dashing, he stayed put just long enough to pay.