Before blowing up the prison, they had scavenged the stoves from it. Too big for the Lair's small kitchen, they sat outside it along the wall, contributing to the noise and chaos whenever mealtimes rolled around. Minion supervised the confused bustle of breakfast, which was more Spam, and a huge vat of oatmeal.
People ate in shifts, at folding tables or standing up or sitting on the floor, from prison trays. The trays had been clean so Megamind felt no qualms about taking them. It wasn't as if the zombies had used them.
Minion's face split into a big grin. "There he is, Mister Evil Overlord!" he sang.
"Hi, Overlord!" chorused the breakfasting group.
Doris gave a disapproving sniff, her eyes narrowing behind her horn-rimmed glasses. "Must it be Evil Overlord? It's not the kind of example you should be setting, Mister Minion."
"Oh, I guess we can leave off the 'Evil' part. You're okay with that, right, Sir?"
Megamind grabbed Minion's elbow. "Meeting. Now."
He led the way back into the relative dark and quiet behind the stacks of spare car parts. "Everyone's calling me Overlord."
"I know, it's so awesome. Isn't it great?" Minion clutched his hands to his chest with glee.
"Awesome? Great?" he sputtered. "How is it great?"
Minion's toothy grin faded and he blinked at him. "But... but it's what we've always wanted. They accept you as their Overlord. They like it."
He snapped his fingers. "That's it, that's it exactly, you have hit the bull's-eye on the head. That's what's wrong! Overlord is a title of fear and intimidation." He raised his black-gloved hand and closed it into a fist. "A title that declares my absolute supremacy over the populace. They're not supposed to like it."
"But so what? You upset 'cause that cop said it first?"
Megamind snarled, "Certainly doesn't help! Now everybody's walking around nudging each other in the ribs and chuckling, 'oh ho ho, we're all part of the club, aren't we clever.' This is intolerable."
Roxanne stepped around the corner. "Boy, you really hate winning, don't you?"
"That is not true," he said huffily. "I merely dislike the... the cheapening of the Overlord name." He crossed his arms over his chest, then, realizing that he was pouting, forced his arms down to his sides and tried to fix Roxanne with a look of offended dignity.
As usual, she failed to cower, and instead raised an eyebrow at him. "Cheapened? Really?"
He made a disgusted noise but he could feel the absurdity of his indignation creeping up on him. "It's been downgraded to a mere nickname. Tossed so casually about."
She crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against one of the crates. "Well, I guess you'll have to order people to go back to calling you Mister Megamind, then."
Megamind opened his mouth, then shut it again as a strange stubbornness stole over him. He didn't really want to tell them to stop calling him Overlord. The way people had greeted him, as if they were actually glad to see him for once, and not look at him with dread that he was going to shout at them or sic the brainbots on them.
Well...it wasn't exactly disrespectful, was it? He'd kept an ear out for mockery, and no one seemed to be saying it in a sarcastic way. Making them stop... was it even possible? Or desirable? He had claimed the city as his own, as broken as it was. The city was his. Denying the title felt like a step back.
He couldn't throw away the title he'd coveted for so many years, simply because it had been bestowed on him in such an unorthodox manner. He lifted his chin. "Very well, I accept."
Roxanne sucked in her lips, clearly suppressing a smile. "I'm so glad. Hope it's not mandatory. 'Cause I'm not calling you that."
He scoffed. "And why not, Miss Ritchi?" Not that he was surprised. Leave it to Roxanne to stand against him.
"Someone's gotta keep you humble. But you can call me Roxanne if you want. Especially if we're going to be roommates."
He stopped breathing.
Minion tapped his fingertips together. "Um, I'm gonna check on the... I've got to... there's this... I'm gonna go." He beat a hasty retreat.
She bit her lip. "Look, if you need your personal space, I'll understand, but I'd kind of like to stay in your room, if that's okay with you. For sleep," she said, raising a hand as if to stop his questioning. "Like last night. Actual sleep."
Megamind grabbed double hand fulls of his cape. "Oh. Well, now. This is all very... Um, okay. I liked having you. Or not having you. Having you stay!" He was forced to breathe again, purely as a natural response of his respiratory system. "In the room! Not any other kind of having."
He took another deep breath. "Having you stay in my room will be fine," he said clearly and distinctly. His entire face felt like it had caught fire. "But wouldn't you rather be with your friends? Because people talk. About things. Not that you care what anybody else thinks! Ha! I certainly don't care. Unless you care. Anyone who besmirches your reputation will have me to answer to, you can bet on that, Miss Ritchi! Is this a punishment?"
Oh, why didn't he die before that came out of his mouth?
She tilted her head. "Having me in your room is a punishment?"
He waved his hands. "No, no, that's not what I meant." If she got angry she might storm off and he would never be able to talk to her again.
If she were in his room he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings from her any longer and she'd get the hell away from him as fast as possible if she knew the pathetic depths of his desire, and even if he spent the rest of his life sleeping on the floor, sooner or later he was going to get a hard-on the size of Metro Tower, and she would catch him and that would send her on her way even quicker, and why was he such a dog?
"I don't know what you want. I just... I don't understand why you want to stay in my room," he said helplessly. A little surge of anger asserted itself, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice. "And it is my room. I think I have a right to know." She had to suspect the effect she had on him. Maybe she just enjoyed torturing him.
Roxanne rubbed her hands on her pants. This was a lot scarier than she thought it'd be, and a lot harder to say out loud. She never would have suggested such a thing normally, to move in with a man she wasn't even dating, for crying out loud, but she felt like she was running out of time. There was no time for first dates or doing things in an ordinary fashion, no time for going out once in a while and seeing if they clicked.
She already knew they clicked pretty damn good, at least at certain, very specific times.
She could die tomorrow. Or he could. That thought made her throat tighten. She had to swallow in order to continue. "I want to get to know you better," she said, her face reddening. "I'm afraid of rushing into a relationship, but there's so much death, I've seen so many die that I don't want to waste any more time playing games." She closed her eyes. "Shit, I don't think I'm saying this right. I'm trying to say, I like you."
I've seen what you've done for this city, and what you're trying to do, and I never truly believed you were evil. In fact, I might even be falling in love with you. But she couldn't say that, talk about pressure.
She stammered, "I want to get to know you better." She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing. "Crap, I already said that, didn't I? We've known each other for, what, five years?"
"Five and three-quarters."
She huffed out a breathy laugh. "Right. And I don't want you to think this is some kind of... oh, I don't know what to call it. Last ditch effort to avoid death, or seeing you as an alternative to ... I don't know. And, well, there's a lot of competition out there." Roxanne clapped a hand over her eyes. "Oh, fuck, why did I say that?"
He shook his head, bewildered by the change in topic, and it didn't help that his heart had started pounding when she said 'I like you.' He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "What kind of competition?"
She dragged her hand down her face and peered at him. "Other women. You know."
"Ooo-kay. The other women in the Lair?" He cocked his head, a puzzled frown wrinkling his brows, and then he got it. "Oh. Like a shooting competition? That's an excellent idea! I've noticed a few women seem rather nervous around firearms, a shooting contest might be just the thing. A different, less strenuous form of becoming familiar with weapons."
He tapped his chin and paced back and forth, excitement building as it unfolded in his mind. "Could be a welcome distraction from the zombie stress, too. There can be stationary and mobile targets, and prizes. Probably ought to have a contest for the men, too, they tend to have the opposite problem, acting like they know what they're doing when they really don't. Or would an open competition based purely on skill level rather than gender be best, what do you think, Miss Ritchi? Er, I mean, Roxanne?"
Using her first name was oddly gratifying. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. There had been no rule against it, really, it was all part of the supervillain persona. Being excessively polite made it more ee-vil when you were dangling the victim over the alligator pit.
He wondered why she was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind, but maybe he'd imagined it, because she coughed and looked away. "Um, yeah, that's... yeah, we'll have to work on that. Er... I guess what I'm trying to say is that whatever else happens, I want to see if... if there's anything going on." She pointed at herself and him a few times. "Anything here. Between us." She sighed. "Well, that was eloquent," she muttered. "But I want something real, not a ...a fling."
A pleasant, trembly sort of warmth spread through him. She wanted to get to know him better? And not a fling. So there were some definite boundaries here, he could handle that. He felt a little more secure with rules in place. You had to have rules, even if you decided to break them. Not that he would break any of these rules, that was... not right. Rules about theft and traffic signals was one thing, but this was quite another. So no flinging.
She said, "And I think that for now we should not share a bed."
He swallowed. "Right. Of course. Not...not sharing. Only reasonable."
For now? So, a temporary arrangement, to be re-evaluated later?
He ought to be able to put up with some personal discomfort. Maybe if he got all hot and bothered, he could sneak off to the bathroom or something. There were ways for him to deal with embarrassing physical reactions. "Yes, I'd like that," he said. "Okay."
They looked at each other, and he wondered if a hug could be allowed. Because Roxanne was looking extremely soft and huggable at the moment.
He took a cautious step toward her and was emboldened when she raised her hands slightly. Was she anticipating a hug?
She must be!
Oh, shit, he'd paused, now he was overthinking it, it was getting awkward, her smile was looking kind of shaky as if she sensed his panic, he'd better...
He took another quick step forward and put his arms around her shoulders. To his immense relief she slid her hands around his ribs and under his cape, to lay them against his back.
Though he held her lightly, he was sure she could feel his heart hammering. She warmed him clear through, in the coldness of the Lair.
He turned his face toward her and met her eyes. They were so close her features were blurry. She was breathing shallowly, quick little breaths.
Who was he kidding? He couldn't leave it at a mere hug. He closed his eyes and kissed her soft lips. Too late, he realized he should have shaved, should have brushed his teeth, should have showered and been presentable before even thinking about embracing her. He was pretty sure his breath was okay, but...
Incredibly she didn't shove him away out of disgust. Her hands slid up his back, flattening under his shoulder blades, just beneath the spiked mantle.
Her lips parted a little, and closed again over his bottom lip. A tingle ran up his spine at the brush of her teeth. Ohmigodohmigod.
He could get to like this.
Sudden screams and shouts rent the air, along with the noise of a dozen over-excited brainbots.
The kiss broken, they stared at each other, breathing hard. Reluctantly he let her go. "What in the hell is going on out there?" he muttered.
They came out from behind the crates.
A swarm of brainbots flew around the main room in hot pursuit of something he couldn't quite see, through the crowd of shouting, leaping, people.
The horde of 'bots suddenly turned in his direction. An orange cat with its ears flattened to its head and its tail frizzed out to twice its size shot out of the crowd, streaked across the floor, darted between his feet and disappeared.
The brainbots flew toward him at a roar. He flung his arms over his head and shouted, "Heel! Heel, dammit!"
They swooped and swooshed wildly overhead before coming to a stop. Their eyestalks craned around him, trying to see their lost quarry.
He shook his finger at them. "Get back to your stations! Back! Right now! Daddy is very cross with you. Very cross!" Eyestalks drooping, the dejected brainbots floated back to their assigned jobs.
Roxanne straightened up from where she'd dived for the floor, brushing off her legs. "I think it went in there."
He got down on one knee to peer into the darkness between the crates.
Two glowing green eyes looked back, part of a slightly lighter shadow huddled in the dark. Sharp little teeth appeared as it hissed.
"Is the poor thing all right?" Roxanne asked as she looked over his back.
"I think so. I'll have to move about two thousand pounds of equipment to find out, though," he grumbled. He stood up again and scowled at his guests. "All right, who brought that cat in here?"
It occurred to me while working on this scene that Roxanne and Megamind keep getting interrupted whenever they get to be alone for a little while. I'm afraid there is no getting around it, though. Crises both big and small will keep cropping up. I'll work on getting them some more private time!
