Chapter 16
Roxanne leans in and kisses him and oh, man, that's something she doesn't want to ever get used to or take for granted: kissing Megamind while he's still smiling.
As she draws back, smiling now as well, her eye falls on something at the foot of Megamind's bed. She blinks, then squints. Does that really say…?
"What on earth—shame box? Happy face?"
"Oh!" He huffs a laugh. "Here," he says, bending again to open it for her and sort of wincing when he moves his arms a little too far. "It's yours anyway, I suppose."
The lid doesn't even creak as he opens it; either the hinges are too well-oiled or too heavily-used. Inside the box are flowers, squished closely together, spilling out as the lid opens. Roxanne crouches down.
"Can I mess these up?" she asks, remembering what he said about things staying where he put them.
(She's looking at the flowers. She doesn't see how he hesitates before he shrugs.)
"Mess away," he says. "Dig all you want."
Roxanne sinks both hands into the cool petals. She's thinking hard.
The box itself is beautifully decorated despite its label. It's wood and unvarnished, but most of the exterior is covered in looping swirls and filigree-style designs she's only ever seen before on his dehydration gun. The wood is carved away from them so they stand in relief, chiseled out and sanded smooth.
And the flowers—
The flowers are all that dark, luxurious red, the red of deoxygenated blood or healthy gills. But deeper down, the petals at the bottom of the box are slightly brighter. Not by much, certainly not washed-out, but a lighter hue. That's interesting. Megamind's feelings for her have evolved somewhat since they began, but stayed true.
She keeps coming back to the box, though. Slowly, she closes the lid and runs her hands over the label. Should she mention—shame? Shame? Out of all the emotions, all the possible reactions he could have had? Guilt, she might have understood: guilt, which follows the feeling of doing something wrong. She wouldn't agree with it, but she would understand. But shame is not a function of doing; shame is a function of being, of a self-focused perception of failure. Roxanne interviews people for a living, she studies situations, reactions, emotions; she is well-acquainted with shame. And—what was it he said before? About what he would do if he had known she loved him? He would have begged her?
But maybe—okay, maybe it's nothing, maybe it was just an off-handed joke of some kind. At least it has a happy face. Was he trying to make light of the situation? Poke fun at himself? It's impossible to tell, especially with the exterior so lovingly attended to otherwise.
It's just. Megamind thrives on words. He might not always pronounce them correctly, but he knows their meanings and how to use them for effect. This...does not feel thoughtless. Not with the care that was shown to the rest of the box, hand-carved and sanded.
So—he was ashamed of some part of this. Had hidden his flowers away, only scattering them when his container reached capacity.
Shame. And the stubbornly careless use of his gills to hide, despite how it obviously hurt him. She swallows hard, blinking.
But. Now isn't the time. They've been dating for all of three hours, barely; now isn't the time to ask about something this potentially heavy.
Did you think you're not good enough , she doesn't say. Did you think you were doing something wrong? That this was bad, this was immoral? You couldn't imagine I would want to try—imagined you would have to beg me—why? Because you're an alien? A villain? Because you think there's something wrong with this?
Or wrong with you?
"It's a beautiful box," she says, keeping her tone light. She runs her hands over the carvings again. "Did you do these yourself?"
"I did." He turns and leans his hip against his bedpost, looking down at her. "When I couldn't sleep. It was something to do."
Shame Box.
:)
Roxanne pulls a deep breath and smiles. Instead of pushing for answers, she pushes her star of worry to the back of her mind and rises. "You have a gift," she tells him. He's standing with his arms folded, studying her. "You have a gift. The designs are beautiful, my—love. My love? Is that okay?"
His crescent-moon smile is so big it wrinkles his cheeks up to the corners of his eyes, pinks his ears. "More than okay," he says, and—reaches out a hand and touches her hair. His eyebrows go up, forehead creasing with happy interest. "Oh! It is soft! I can…?" At her nod, he seizes his lip between his teeth and sinks both his long hands into her hair, combing through the short strands and scritching gently at her scalp. "Oh it's soft," he says again, wondering.
And he really does look happy, so maybe he really is okay. Roxanne's eyes flutter closed at the impromptu head massage and she hums, worry easing somewhat. His fingers do slow after a moment and she opens her eyes to find that his smile is slipping, but his expression is still marveling and amazed.
"You're—really here," he says, eyes wide. "You, you're…this is real."
Roxanne pulls him into a hug, wordless. How can she not? And Megamind leans into her and moves to return the gesture—but this time he gasps, winces. Moving his arms too far forward must be bad right now, however slightly it must pull at his gills. He makes a small sound of disappointment and starts to withdraw, but Roxanne only grips him tighter. "Just let me hold you," she says. "You can keep your elbows at your sides, fold your arms up…yeah, there."
Megamind winds up with one hand resting—trembling—on her sternum and the other curled between their chests. Slowly, he bends his head and rests his temple on her shoulder, exhales. Even more slowly, Roxanne feels some of the tension ebb out of his frame.
"You smell good," he murmurs, after a few moments.
"So do you." She smiles a little. His head is not actually as heavy as she expected it might be. Is he still supporting it, himself? He must be. "Like almonds. Why…?"
He chuckles. "Cyanide. That's the almond smell. Oh, we'll need a separate fridge," he adds, in a tone of vague realization. "And. Safety protocols, for my various…dietary toxins. So you can eat things out of the main fridge."
"I could just have a shelf of human-safe foods…?" She trails off; he just shook his head a little.
"No. If I'm in a rush, or Minion is…no. Better to have separate storage. I eat some things that would kill you in minutes. I am not willing to risk it."
That raises about twenty more questions, but they have time. There's no plot hanging over their heads; she doesn't have to make the most of every minute. She doesn't need to ask right now. So she just…tips her head sideways and rests her cheek on Megamind's wide forehead and says, "Well. Then I won't worry about giving you too much trouble. I'll just say thank you for keeping me safe."
He hums. "Of course I'll keep you safe," he says, fingers tightening slightly and dragging at the fabric of her shirt. "I'm no hero, but. I'll always keep you safe. To the very best of my ability. And—too much trouble, bah. I told you in the car, Roxanne." He lifts his head and looks at her, smirking with half-lidded eyes. "You're my problem, now."
Roxanne snorts. She isn't quite sure what to make of that; she wasn't sure last time, either. But he certainly doesn't look like it's a bad thing. "And you're mine," she returns, to see what he does.
He beams. He goes from flirting to overjoyed in approximately an eighth of a second, smiling so wide his eyes squeeze nearly closed, and then he ducks forward and kisses her again, pressing his whole self towards her like he's trying to pour himself into the same space she's occupying. His expression when he falls back is still sparkling, and Roxanne can't help but laugh a little and shake her head at him, crinkling her nose in a wordless question.
Megamind gives a sharp shrug, still wearing his breathlessly happy smile. "Most people just try to shove me off onto somebody else," he says, "problem-wise."
"Oh for pity's sake." Roxanne shakes her head again. "You aren't a problem, I think, but if you have to be one, then you are very definitely mine. And I am never letting you be anybody else's." She pauses. "Except Minion's."
That gets a laugh as he trots away to his wardrobe to pull down a shirt. "Except Minion's," he agrees over his shoulder.
When he turns, he finds Roxanne has followed and is waiting to help him into his button-down so he doesn't have to move his arms too far. God, he loves her. "And you're sure you're okay coming home with me?" she asks as she buttons him.
Megamind touches her hand. She pauses and looks up with her fingers still on his chest.
"Do you know," he says, studying her face, "how very long I've wanted to hear you ask me that?"
She presses her lips together to hide her smile. "About two years, I'd expect."
"Longer." When she looks at him again in surprise, his eyes are soft. "I just didn't know it was you, until recently."
And what is she supposed to do after that but kiss him again?
Minion has put together a lovely dinner for them: a sort of ginger-sesame beef over brown rice, with an orange mashed vegetable on the side that Roxanne thinks is sweet potato, but which turns out to be stewed pumpkin. It's better than she would have expected.
"I think I've only ever had pumpkin in pie before this," she says, when she realizes what she's eating. Minion makes a scandalized noise and Megamind looks horrified.
"This is your first pumpkin talkari? " he exclaims.
Roxanne shrugs. "I don't know what that is! But this is delicious, seriously."
"It ought to be," Minion says, "it's Grandma Walsh's recipe. Uncle Mitch used to send us to her on the holidays after Uncle Bill taught Sir his tricks for breaking in and out of…well, most places."
"All places," Megamind says through a mouthful of talkari.
"How old were you?"
Roxanne is expecting an answer in his mid-teens; she's startled when Megamind says, "I mastered his techniques before I turned six."
"Awww," she exclaims. "So you got to visit your grandma even when you were kids, it sounds like! What about, um. Uncle…Guduza, was it? What about his parents?"
"Somewhere in KwaZulu-natal, we assume," Minion says with a shrug. "Uncle Guduza doesn't talk about his family much."
"I got to visit Grandaddy Sigranes, once," Megamind offers. "He was nice. Hospitable. No friend of the feds, that's for sure."
"And thank all available heavens for that," Minion mutters, expression darkening for a moment.
Roxanne pauses, uncertain. "Who…?"
"Our uncle Bill's pa! Out in West Virginia." Megamind grins at her, apparently unaffected by whatever made Minion so sour. "Uncle Bill had a beard like you wouldn't believe, but Grandaddy Sigranes had a little one, like this." He taps his own chin. "Made me feel a lot better when mine wouldn't grow anywhere else. I wrote to him once and he said maybe I'd grow more later; apparently he didn't start growing facial hair until well into his fifties. And he was short, too! Like me. I'm glad I met him when I was small. It was reassuring."
Roxanne pauses, blinking.
"We think the late development may have had something to do with how Uncle Bill always laughed about 'back when my pa was a little girl,'" Minion says.
"To be entirely fair to Uncle Bill," Megamind says, when Roxanne looks even more uncertain, "Grandaddy Sigranes also told me lots of funny stories about when he was a little girl."
Ah. Roxanne nods and goes back to her dinner. "He sounds like a character," she says. "Good for him. It's interesting," she adds, "that you have all this family. You sound really fond of them."
"Oh we are," Minion says. "Yes."
"What I said earlier," Megamind says, "about pushing us onto someone else to deal with…our uncles didn't. They refused, in fact. Our warden offered, but it…didn't make sense."
"Wasn't safe," Minion says, flat.
Roxanne is not going to ask; the last time Minion sounded like that, the subject matter was catastrophic. "I'm glad they insisted, then."
Megamind just nods.
"It is interesting, though," she says again. "Wayne's family is…stiff? I guess? Sort of obligation-based? Whereas you two have people scattered all over the place, it sounds like, but you genuinely do care about them. I don't mean to compare," she adds quickly. "It's just that so many people think of you two as basically raising yourselves, but—"
"It was very much a group effort," Minion says, nodding. "Mitch and Guduza did most of the legwork, and of course Warden Jim filled in on what we needed outside. But there were others who stepped up for us, too, over the years."
"Why those two?" She cocks her head. "Can I ask?"
"They had been cellmates for years and neither of them was addicted to anything worse than cigarettes, and Mitch missed his girls."
"Also, he was a pediatrician before he was arrested for unlicensed vigilante work," Megamind chips in. "And they were both in for life. So."
"Stability, low-risk, a knowledge base that might be useful for babies," Roxanne nods. "Okay. That...makes sense. Except for the part where two lifers were given a pair of infants to raise with apparently zero legal ramifications, that makes sense."
"It helps when neither of the infants is legally classified as a person," Megamind says dryly.
Ah.
"Right," Roxanne says, after a pause. "Right, I see. Well. You guys are wonderful," she says firmly. "They raised a couple of great kids."
Minion's answering smile is an odd one; she isn't sure what it means. But he sounds cheerful enough when he says, "More talkari?"
"Please!"
As he bustles over to take the pot from the oven where it's been keeping warm, he says over his shoulder, "Miss Ritchi. I haven't asked, but I am dying to know…what flower did Sir give you?"
"Umm," Roxanne hums, looking at Megamind, whose expression has just gone soft and delighted at her again, "I'm…actually not sure what they're called. They're, ah…alien ones, I know that much."
Minion makes an intrigued sound. "Oh! What do they look like? I have inherited memories, maybe I can—"
Megamind cuts him off, burbletrilling something short and complicated in his throat. Minion says "What? " and turns around. Megamind cocks a grin at him and sings something else, sort of cluck-warbling in his chest at the same time. He looks very pleased, almost smug.
"What?" says Roxanne, thrown.
"You are joking," Minion says. "You—that's—that shouldn't be possible; she doesn't have any of the compounds for…! Miss Ritchi, you—have you seriously been coughing up silverfoil?"
She lifts her eyebrows and gives a huge shrug. "I have no idea what it's called. Is it about this big, with kinda tentacles? And does it glow sometimes?"
Minion's jaw drops. Minion is mostly jaw, so it's quite an expression. "And silverfire? "
Megamind laughs. "Told you! I tell you, Minion, when I saw them I think part of me died in the best way."
"Is silverfire important?" Roxanne hazards. It looks like it is, if Minion's reaction is anything to go by. "I mean, is it good? Megamind mentioned some flowers being, um, culturally significant? So…I was hoping it was a good thing, but—"
"A very good thing," Minion cuts her off, still staring at her. "The best thing, the—oh, evil heavens, Miss Ritchi, that is incredible! And no wonder you asked Sir about something for your throat; those are not small flowers."
She laughs, relieved. "It was worth it. I'm just glad they don't mean anything bad for you guys!"
"How many silverfire?" Minion asks. "Total? Did you keep track?"
Roxanne squints into the distance for a moment. There were those first two, and of course the three she has around her room…plus…
"I think nine?" she hazards. "Yes. Yes, nine, because the last one was at work and I thought someone saw me."
Silence. Both aliens are staring at her now.
"I'm…like eighty-five percent sure?" she says, when neither of them moves or speaks.
Megamind looks up at Minion. "That's—isn't that the number of—"
"—Reef-barrow mounts of the wrack house, yes. Eldest and eldritch." Minion sighs and slowly turns back to the oven, shaking his head. "I'm…sure it's a coincidence, Sir. Our capture-pool had easily four times that many growing from the coral-wire. And before you ask, Miss Ritchi," he adds without looking at her, and Roxanne closes her mouth from where she had just opened it to do exactly that, "this is a conversation that should wait, I think. The twilight metamorphosis is not really appropriate conversation for your first evening as a couple."
Fair enough! Okay. Roxanne will not ask. She will add it to the list of questions she is not asking. Roxanne has lived without answers for long enough that she's getting used to it. And…honestly, she finds she doesn't mind, when she thinks of it. Not when it's these particular men asking her to wait for a while. Usually she chafes at not being able to know, but this...really is okay.
"Sounds good," she says. Megamind pulls his head back on his long neck, eyebrows up, looking startled, and she smiles at him. "Another time."
"You don't wait on questions," Megamind says, sounding suspicious, and Roxanne snorts at him.
"And you don't sit down for more than two minutes at a time, but here we've been having dinner and conversation for nearly half an hour," she returns. "We're all a little different at home."
Minion clears his throat. "Do you mind if I stop by tomorrow and see them?" he asks. "I—I know they're yours—well, and his, sort of, but—"
"Yours too," Roxanne exclaims immediately. "Yes, definitely! Why don't you come for dinner tomorrow? Both of you." She looks from Minion to Megamind and back again, questioning. She hasn't forgotten that one of the first things Minion said about any of this was the worry that she might be expecting him to butt out. "I can make something. And we can all hang out together and talk…logistics? Relationship planning? Not that I don't want to do that tonight, of course, it's just…"
"Oh, of course not tonight, you're exhausted," Minion says, nodding, "and so is Sir. Tomorrow, yes. I think that makes good sense. Oh, it's going to be so nice to have someone else around with good sense! And I cannot wait to see these flowers, I imagine they're lovely."
"You should see how she has them displayed, Minion," Megamind says. "Her room looks…absolutely incredible. It's going to be a shame when they wilt."
Roxanne bites her lip and does not mention the glowing flowers she sent away to be preserved. Or the few dark ones she sent after those, when she realized she liked how they looked as decorations. They'll be a wonderful surprise, one of these days.
"They had a good run," she says simply, returning to her dinner when Minion slides her plate back down in front of her.
Then she pauses and looks up. Megamind has just leaned over and touched her hand.
"We'll have a better one," he promises.
After dinner, Minion sends Megamind to go pack his things for an evening and take some deep breaths, and he steals Roxanne away to go with him down to the reef pool in the lair's seventh sublevel to get the gallons of saltwater Megamind will need tomorrow morning to rinse out his gills.
"I'm impressed," he says, throwing the lever on the industrial lift that will take them most of the way down. "He let you do his gills. And I'm glad; he's terrible at spreading that stuff, himself."
"I can't say I'm surprised." Roxanne frowns, leaning against the hand rail and tucking her fingers under her arms. Evil Lair gets seriously chilly after a while. She's going to need more sweaters. "I always thought he had a really high tolerance for pain, but that sounded like it was seriously awful."
"Yes to both." Minion gestures a sigh, fins and furry pauldrons drooping. "Unfortunately, that high pain threshold means he is an absolute wimp about the pain he does experience, if it's sharp. And gills are highly sensitive."
Roxanne squints into the middle distance and doesn't reply. After a moment, Minion asks, "Is something wrong? Miss Ritchi?"
"Hm? Oh. No, not wrong, just…I'm just thinking." She sighs. "There's…kind of a lot to think about? And, um. I'm. I'm tired."
Minion studies her for another second or so, then throws the lever again to bring them to a halt between floors. Startled, Roxanne looks up at him. "You wait right here," Minion says, climbing from platform to cable to floor with a gorilla's grace. "I'll be right back."
Roxanne shrugs, nods. He sends her a toothy grin and disappears, knuckling quickly away down the hall to his storage bins on the lair's refueling bridge.
Because she's cold. She's cold and she's tired and she seems to have something on her mind, and Minion knows exactly what to do for cold and tired and preoccupied. Miss Ritchi and Megamind are just about the same size in the shoulders, and she actually wears colors! Minion has just the thing for her, just the thing to make her smile. And he knows exactly where it is…there! Yes! Okay.
When he swings back down onto the lift platform with a surprisingly quiet clank of his feet, he's grinning from ear to ear and holding out a green and orange fuzzy garment. "Here!"
Roxanne takes it from him slowly. "This is…"
"A sweater!" He grins down at her and sets the lift in motion again. "Evil Lair is cold, I always forget. I have a heater; you don't. That should be pretty warm."
She laughs and shrugs into it—it hangs approximately to her knees, and the sleeves fall well over her hands. "Was this meant to be a dress?"
"It was my first attempt at crochet, years ago," he says. "I, ah. I got a wee bit enthusiastic? It was meant to fit on one of my older suits."
Roxanne snorts, shoving the sleeves up her arms so her hands are free. "Well, it's certainly very cozy, I'll give you that! Thanks, Minion."
She sighs, and Minion gives her his very best talk to me face. It still takes her a few seconds to reply.
"Do you know what made him label that thing Shame Box? Why shame?"
Ohhhh. Oh. Yes. "He isn't ashamed of you, Miss Ritchi," Minion says quickly. "Don't ever worry about that. I don't—I'm not one hundred percent on all his whys and wherefores, but I do know that much."
She's nodding. "I know. I didn't think it was me. But…shame? What was he ashamed of?"
"I can't say for sure." Minion's fins droop a little. "But he thought it was funny, at the time. Does that help?"
A little. It helps a little. But the fact remains that some piece of him thought shame was an appropriate reaction to falling in love with her, and Roxanne does not like that. It makes her heart hurt.
But she shakes herself and smiles up at Minion, thanks him, and steers their conversation to safer waters. It isn't difficult to do, especially when they reach the reef pool. Their saltwater setup is honestly breathtaking.
"Oh I have to swim in this, someday," she says, staring around at the rippling water. "Is it modeled after a specific region?"
"Mostly Indo-Pacific," he says, preening a little as she crouches down with wide eyes. "But there are a few species that fit in well enough from other locations. I would love for you to see it! Sir and I set it up together, of course, but it's really been my pet project to cultivate since then. Here, put these on the cart for me?"
She takes the gallon jugs he passes her and loads them onto the rolling cart's bottom shelf without standing up. "How many of these will he need?"
"Three on either side. And he isn't going to want the ointment afterwards," he warns. "It's going to hurt quite a bit to apply, so you may need to put your foot down. Such drama, just to hide…" He shakes his head, sculling from side to side in his dome.
"Can I talk to him about that yet," Roxanne asks. "Do you think—is it too soon? It feels soon but—"
Minion snorts. "He let you put your fingers in his gills. I'd say you can try to talk to him about pretty much anything. Whether he wants to talk…that's another story. But. He won't be offended, if that's what you mean."
"I just don't want to freak him out again," she says. "I don't—know how to navigate this. I, I love him and—and I think he might not know what I mean? When I say that?"
That catches his attention. That's unexpected. "I'm sure he believes you," he says slowly. "If you were creating silverfoil for him. He does believe you."
She nods. "Yes, but…I don't know. Something he said earlier, and now the shame box…I don't know. Nothing is wrong, really," she tells him. "Don't worry. I'm…I'm not worried. Not really. I just need to tell him something and I still don't know how. I told him how I feel when he smiles sometimes, but…I don't know if that's…that was pretty abstract, and he was direct, so…"
Roxanne finally trails off, and Minion peers at her. When she doesn't continue, he says, "Well. I don't know what to tell you, I'm afraid. I'm not sure how you prefer to work through these kinds of problems. But if it's by talking—talk, then. Please talk. You won't break anything." He rests a big metal hand on her back as she gets to her feet. "Sir is…prickly, at times. But now is not one of those times. He's really in a fantastic mood tonight. It'll be okay."
