Posting with great hesitation!
I'll cut to the chase eventually.
51. Whose Side – 14
As could be expected, Dr. Drakken was none too pleased with her decision to hang at her apartment that night. He whined over the phone into her ear about blowing off the ride he'd sent, but she wearily assured him she could look after herself. Though she knew her plans were liable to change, Shego told the apprehensive rogue that she would be spending the night in watching television, seeing as he didn't need her around for anything other than peace of mind.
Resolution aside, she held out the hope he would show up to whisk her away.
Unfortunately it wasn't Drakken who rang her doorbell shortly after the phone call. With nothing better to do, a dangerous curiosity won over and she was lured out with the girl balancing between friend and foe.
Half of her wished she had pretended to not be home while the other half wanted to enjoy the frivolous activities. Her nails were evened out and now sported a glossy metallic green, and despite Miss Priss's insistence on bleaching it, Shilo left the salon with all evidence of grey hairs eradicated. She had to turn down a shoplifting date to Smarty Mart, but a visit to the movie shack ended with Shilo hauling home a stack of stolen VHS tapes anyway, which Priscilla had courteously swiped as a peace offering.
During the entire outing, she was braced for something to go wrong or for the nuisance to press the wrong buttons. Though a relief, it was still an unpleasant surprise when nothing catastrophic happened by the time they made it back to the apartment. At least if they had gotten into a quarrel, they would have had good cause to part ways for the evening. With the girl's confidence acting like she belonged, it was almost as if they'd never had a falling out. It was hard not to welcome the false sense of normalcy.
Having stopped at the 24-Seven convenience store for soda and snacks, Priscilla was ready to make herself right at home on the fuzzy rug in the space between Shilo's bed and television. As they argued lightly over which to watch first, Shilo inwardly made a note to herself to return the stolen movies later. She agreed to one flick.
One became three and three became waking up to the doorbell instead of her alarm clock.
She was ready to disregard it, nodding off again just as soon as it ceased.
But then it rang again and she groaned. This time she cracked her eyes open, but only because something cold touched her shin. She jerked away from the chilly toes, shooting Priscilla a glare for having kicked a leg up onto her bed to nudge her.
"You gon get that?" grumbled the blonde crashed out on her floor, the fuzzy rug folded over her in place of a blanket.
Shilo could scarcely get out a groan before the front door swung open. The light flicked on, the little bulb leaving spots in her vision, and between that and the blurry blue figure in the doorway, she tumbled out of bed with a start right on top of her guest.
The room was shy of comfortably warm to begin with, but with the door wide open letting in the chill, Shilo quickly took into account her state of dress and yanked her blanket down over her bare legs. She scrambled to her feet, pulling the blanket around her waist. With Priscilla borrowing her pajamas, Shilo opted to wear the borrowed sweater to bed last night. She ground the heel of her palm into her tired eyes, wishing she hadn't accepted Priscilla's more traditional peace offering, the smell of which still lingered.
"Don't you two look lovely," growled Drakken from the doorway.
Before she could snap at him for barging in, a tug at the blanket made her catch it from slipping and tighten her grip. "Come back to bed, baby," teased Priscilla. Glaring at her and giving her a kick was the least she could do.
Especially when, as Shilo stepped away, Priscilla gave the blanket a rough yank to strip her of it. She would have loved to send a blast of plasma her way for the dirty trick, but Priscilla had seen it coming and vanished, and Shilo was preoccupied tugging down the hem of the sweater for good measure anyway.
Her face warmed over and she whipped her head back around to snap at Drakken for intruding, but he was already turning his back.
"Quit fooling around. You're late enough. I'll meet you at the car," he called back, shutting the door behind him.
Shilo felt herself burning with humiliation, her stomach topsy-turvy. She accepted defeat and made for her dresser to begin rounding up her things, trying not to pay too much attention to the sight of herself in Drakken's sweater or sigh in relief that she'd had the presence of mind while high last night to put on shorts with it. The clock was much more concerning than the mismatched sleepwear which wasn't even sleepwear to begin with.
It was after ten o'clock in the morning.
A rock sank in the pit of her stomach. She glared harshly to Priscilla, who had courteously reappeared to make her bed. "You snoozed it, didn't you?" she accused.
"Well, duh," scoffed her guest arrogantly. "You looked too peaceful to disturb."
Shilo groaned as she rushed to the bathroom. She didn't have long to brace herself for what remedial duties Buckley would have in store for her. At least Priscilla didn't put up a fight when it came to getting her out of her apartment. She didn't even demand a ride, though she did ask for a smoke before sauntering off the other direction, leaving Shilo in peace to hop in the van with Drakken.
"You smell like you had fun last night," grumbled Drakken, and Shilo stole a peek at him glaring at the blonde through the mirror before they left the curb.
"I couldn't get her out of my hair," she said as she pulled out a comb to finish making herself presentable, subtly giving her own hair a sniff in hope the odor hadn't lingered.
"Well maybe if you didn't let it become such a rat's nest," Drakken criticized with a roll of his eyes. For the comment, she reached over to take a swipe at his untamed shaggy mop, her comb snagging and drawing a yelp of pain from him.
Shilo snorted but kept a cap on her amusement. "So we both gotta work on it," she decided. "Maybe if you'd actually picked me up, I wouldn't be left alone with her."
"I sent a ride!" he whined in defense. "I was a little tied up."
"What had you so busy?" she shot back.
Drakken gnashed his teeth and curled his lip, grinding out, "Sales rep."
"What?"
The irritable man groaned and Shilo settled back in her seat to listen to him spiel bitterly about the string of phone calls he'd had with Henchco, remarking on subpar customer service and conmen for sales reps. By the time they reached Main Street, he sighed hugely and concluded that his order could take weeks to fill and groused it would be faster and cheaper to build his own security system from scratch.
"So why don't you make your own, handyman?" Shilo shot over, her eyes locked on Buckley's Brew as they approached.
"I have better things to do with my time," he grumbled. "But I've sent the boys to Reno to pick up some supplies."
"So Lux—?"
Drakken grunted. "I'll be here when you need me," he promised, raising a pinky in the air between them. "I give you my word."
She eyed the silly gesture before returning it, sealing the pinky promise with a shake. "I'm holding you to it," she warned as she popped the door a moment later.
"Good luck facing her wrath," he quipped with a nod to the café before she could slam the door and turn away.
Despite the unpleasant start to the day and imminent chastising she was due to receive from Buckley, she couldn't help smirking to herself as she entered the café several hours late.
Her smirk fell away the instant Buckley caught her eye. The woman made a rough gesture for Jenny to return to the back now that Shilo was in. "What kept you?" demanded the baker as Shilo rushed to take her place behind the counter. Buckley stooped as Shilo tried squeezing by, sniffing like a hound dog, and she hoped the woman could only smell the generous helping of body spray she'd made sure to put on before leaving her apartment.
Buckley hummed suspiciously and didn't take her prying eyes off Shilo. "I had to call your boyfriend to go hunt you down," she said with a nod to the storefront. Shilo flicked a glance up to Drakken idling on the street, still peering in with a look of worry, and narrowed her eyes at him. The attention he received was enough to ward him off, and the man holding up traffic finally floored it. "Since you're so determined to be tardy, you can make it up for it this weekend."
Her attention snapped up to the burly woman. By her tone, it was non-negotiable, yet Shilo still uttered a stupefied, "What?" Working weekends wasn't part of the deal.
"Clear your schedule. The Smiths are having a little shindig at the lake this Saturday and I need you there," explained the baker as she left Shilo to tend the counter. She reappeared in the window moments later from the kitchen, waiting for Shilo to finish taking a customer's order before continuing, "You and Jenny will be working the food truck catering at the wedding."
Gail dropped a mug then, barely catching it. "But that leaves me here alone!" she protested. Clearly, this arrangement was as much news to her as it was to Shilo, but that wasn't what made Shilo's brow furrow.
"What about Chester?" she blurted, but it was proven to be the wrong thing to say. The cold shoulder Abigail gave her then almost made her shiver.
"Chester won't be here," explained Buckley grimly. "She's going to take a tour of the facilities in Lowerton. We are all very happy for her. Right, girls?"
"Yes, ma'am," droned Gail and Jenny.
The gloom in the air at the coworker's upcoming departure hung like a raincloud in the café, and though she tried her best to put on a smile and greet customers with false cheer, she knew her pep was lackluster. Shilo couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding or that the girl willingly leaving to go train for the qualifications desired to join a villain's obedient workforce wasn't all that good a thing.
That afternoon in the alley, Shilo found the chance to ask Gail why Chester had decided to go – she probably should have broached the subject more delicately than bluntly asking her outright though.
Already looking pretty small, the stout girl only sank down to crouch with her back to the wall as she puffed her cigarette and gave a miserable shrug. A long moment passed and Shilo was ready to let it go when Gail finally spoke up. "What Hench offers is pretty tempting when you have nowhere else to go," she said simply between drags. It would have to be enough of an answer for now.
Shilo didn't get to respond before the battered utility van appeared at the end of the alley. She mulled it over as she climbed in and gave the sullen Abigail one last look. As Drakken asked if they needed to swing by the apartment for her things, she relaxed back in the uncomfortable old seat and silently appreciated the fact she still had somewhere to be.
She didn't expect that somewhere to be a Comf-E-Girl furniture outlet an hour from the oasis.
At least the ride hadn't been boring with Drakken in a good enough mood to sing to the second-hand mixtapes without the help of alcohol in his system. Between songs that piqued his interest, he regaled how he'd turned the rat loose in some innocent gaudy shop finally and begun designing his new home-made security system, content with his accomplishments for the day. He didn't even let her disapproval of furniture shopping bother him when he finally revealed exactly where they were going as they pulled into the parking lot.
Shilo rolled her eyes as she followed him in, the blue madman giggling gleefully and practically bouncing through the entrance. "I can't tell if you're just childish or if trying out couches is actually exciting when you get old," she gibed.
He didn't let her dampen his mood. "Trying out furniture is one of life's simple pleasures," he chided back lightly with a grin, wagging a finger in the air.
"Yeah, well, tuck in your shirt and fix your hair. You look like a hobo," she hissed over, backhanding his shoulder. "That salesman is already giving us an ugly look."
Drakken did as suggested, unkempt ponytail pulled back neatly by himself before she could reach over to help. He looked a little neater and less rumpled at least as he scrutinized the first sofa of dozens, casting a cagey glance round before plopping down in it. He slouched back with his arms sprawled and let out a contented hum, his eyes falling shut.
"Feel good on your old bones?" she teased quietly, leaning down over the couch. Drakken harrumphed, still gauging the comfort of the couch. At least until Shego pulled at the price tag and made note of the four-digit number.
He hopped up then, deciding to move on.
She followed and tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach. He didn't have to say it for her to know they were only there because of her and her hazardous nature. While Drakken scanned the showroom of ottomans and coffee tables and sofas and everything in between, Shego was crossing her arms and frowning at each candidate.
"You're going to be using it more than me," he finally sighed impatiently as he moved on to the fifth sofa to appeal to him. "So you might as well take a load off and try a couple."
Maybe that was true, but he didn't have to say it like they were couch shopping for her. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snipped.
"You're a couch potato," he informed bluntly. "If there was a couch in the lab, you'd never leave it."
"That's not true!" Defensive as she was, she internally noted to make use of the gym more often.
"Yes, I suppose my desk, wheelie chair, and work tables are just as comfortable, hm?"
Shego frowned to herself. Maybe she did have a bad habit of loitering too much – but it was out of sheer boredom. "Well if we ever did anything—"
"We're doing something right now," he argued, frowning at the cold leathery texture of another sofa. "You were of great service helping me with the Bebes the other day. And we – uhm. When we went to Vegas—"
"We're due to really do something though," Shego sighed, moving to check out the couch across the aisle.
Drakken was close behind her, practically whining. "I can't help it if the last exciting task I had for you was pushed aside so you could go on some date," he groused, letting his irritation show. "We could have spent the weekend foiling Dementor, but no."
She didn't mean to pick up on the salt in his tone, let alone respond to it. "And how'd that night end?" she shot back, for a gentle reminder if nothing else – because it sure hadn't ended on a couch. Reminding herself might have been a mistake, because she had to squeeze her fingers behind her back then to keep her nerves concealed.
Drakken's frown vanished and he froze up briefly before the scowl came back uglier than before. "Oh, zip it," he grumbled, and yanked off one glove to inspect the red corduroy of the couch they were both leaned over now before planting his butt in it. "You're not going to put me off getting one just because my bed is so much comfier," he warned, a suspicious note in his tone. His ears were turning a funny shade and he was overly interested in squishing the armrest.
His attention snapped over to her as Shego sank down beside him, finally testing out cushions for herself. "No," she assured. "I don't mind the couch for now." She gave a small wiggle to really get comfortable and tried to imagine lounging for a movie.
The man beside her grunted, and after a moment she became hyperaware that his arm was resting on the back of the couch behind her as he sprawled out. "What can we do to shake out the ants?" he wondered thoughtfully, and elaborated when Shego made a sound of confusion. "What do you want to do? This weekend I mean. Seeing as you're so restless and all."
Anticipation spiked in her at the prospect of getting out for anything exciting, even if undecided, but just as fast Shego deflated. "I'm already booked," she grumbled, head lolling back against his arm to glower at the ugly ceiling above.
Drakken's fidgety fingers wiggled against her shoulder. "You don't say."
"Next weekend," she assured with a sigh. "Next weekend, I'm all yours. Promise." She held up a pinky as he had earlier and gave him a feeble smile.
He returned the silly gesture, but he was still pouting. "I hate sharing," he grumbled before standing.
"Yet you'll share the couch with me," she reminded with a lilt.
The strange blue rogue pulled a face and gave the red corduroy couch a funny look before eyeing the rest of the showroom. "Shall we keep looking?"
Shego inspected the space on either side of her, from the arm rests to the squishiness of the cushion at her back, and finally to the cushion under her rear. "Hey, Doc?"
"Hm?" he grunted, already wandering away.
"Isn't this the same model you have?"
He grunted and scrutinized it from a couple couches over, narrowing his eyes. "Hm. Yes, I suppose it is." He turned then, pointing vaguely toward one corner of the store. "You try out a few. I'll be over there."
She watched him go before standing, casting a casual glance around to be sure she wasn't being too closely watched before checking under the couch cushion. In her inspection, she discovered a fold out bed beneath it, and the fleeting curiosity crossed her mind if the old couch had one too. She'd never checked. But the fold-out bed didn't matter. All that mattered was the cushion was removable.
Shego returned it and moved on to trying out two more couches but finding no brown corduroys before Drakken's absence got to her.
When she found him, he was in the neglected corner for dining room displays. He was slumped in a hard wooden chair matching the long dark decorated dining table, designed for large families and get-togethers.
Shego leaned back against the table, testing its sturdiness, and studied Drakken for a moment. He hadn't seemed to notice her, his attention fixed on a fake apple he was busy spinning idly. "What are you thinking?" she wondered, unable to decipher the pensive man.
"Plotting revenge against whoever manufactures wax fruit," he said, though it didn't sound like he was telling the truth. She had to guess though, by the spite in his voice, that he'd bitten into one before.
"Uh-huh. Why don't you go get the van and bring it up front?" she suggested. "I've got it all worked out."
Drakken's sulking was interrupted by his confusion and he finally looked up to her. He jumped up and patted himself down, searching hastily for his checkbook and clearly finding it when he sighed. "Wait – did you already—"
"Remind me, Doc – is this the oasis?" Shego mused, shooting him a wily smirk. Drakken's confusion was written across his face. "You've said it yourself. Don't cause trouble in your own town."
It took him a moment to catch her drift, but then he was standing closer, hissing, "You can't carry a couch on your own—?"
"Let me take care of it, will ya?" she whispered back. She probably could drag out a couch on her own, but that wasn't part of her plan. It might be petty, but if she couldn't get her kicks with a high speed chase or news-worthy thefts, then it was the least she could do.
Drakken was still confused but he cast a wary glance around the showroom as he backed away. While he fetched the getaway van, Shego returned to the target.
Minutes later, she had a grin across her face and her heart was pounding in elation. She was much too quick for the security they'd had on duty and more agile than the random good Samaritan who reached for her, dashing out the door in long strides before any form of alarm could be tripped. She'd nearly walked out casually with the couch cushion under her arm, but a salesman had shouted at her that she couldn't just take it.
She showed them.
Perplexed as he was, Drakken must have seen her coming and recognized her need for escape, because the passenger door was popped open and ready for her to dive into the van when she reached it. Burning rubber needlessly, Drakken hit the gas and the old van zipped out of the parking lot as fast as it could – which was fast enough Shego fell out of her seat and onto the cushion on the floor when he rounded the corner.
She lay there with her heart still pounding, staring up at the passing telephone poles through the windshield and Drakken's scowl when he turned it down to her.
"What were you thinking?" he groused.
"Are we being followed?" There was surely too much real crime in the world for the law to be interested in chasing down a petty cushion thief – but then again those donut-loving oafs had surprised her before.
Drakken checked the mirrors. "Not yet."
Shego relaxed. "Good." The giggle rising up in her burst out with a laugh and she kicked her feet over her seat where her butt ought to be. Reaching up to ground herself by grabbing Drakken's sleeve was all she could do to reel it in, and when he took his hand from the wheel to give her shoulder a small pat, she pushed herself up and held onto that arm. It was the best hug she could give him from her awkward position wedged between the seats.
"We have got to steal something better than a couch cushion next time," Drakken bemoaned.
"I don't care what we do next weekend," said Shego, smothering her grin as she climbed back into her seat to buckle in. "But you'd better think of something big."
"Big, huh? I can think of something big." Drakken sounded so sure of himself even as he pursed his lips and tapped his chin pensively. "Piece of pie." At her snort, he flashed her a toothy grin and she didn't bother correcting him.