This chapter. Good fricking lord. I had a ton of ideas of where to go with this one, but then stuff happened and half my ideas were crappy (half of them usually are) and I forgot the other half, and it all…just…bluh. I started over. No, seriously. I got to 20 pages and a little more than 8,000 words and it all just sucked so I started over because to hell with everything, I'm not going to give you guys a chapter I know is crap. The chapter might still be crappy, but I want to at least think it's good because if I think it's crap, you guys definitely will.
So here we are. Chapter 10, take 2! There's bits and pieces from the first draft, but most of it is new. On a related not, this chapter was betad by karenbjones! So a great big thank you to her. Like holy shit thank you wow oh my god.
Also, sorry if you reviewed and I never responded…life has been really hectic lately, what with it being spring semester and I'm almost graduating and job search and schoolwork and studying for the CPA exam and my master's thesis (thesis of doooom)…bad habit of mine, when I stress out I pull back from all contact with pretty much everybody. Which isn't healthy or smart, because that only stresses me out more, so I'm working on that. Rest assured, I read all your reviews and loved them, and I love you, and I fully intend to respond at some point. Hopefully soon.
I don't own Legos or Rubik's Cubes or really anything except Drew.
Chapter 10
Drew comes back downstairs as soon as he gets off the phone with his father and is pleased to see that his mother is still in her armchair, quiet and thinking. Roxanne and Megamind are nowhere to be seen, and he assumes they've gone for a walk or a drive to clear their heads. That's probably for the best.
If there's one thing he loathes, it's having to mediate between two unreasonable people. He's good at it, but he doesn't like it. With any luck, Megamind will talk Roxanne into being a bit less stubborn—that means it's up to me to take care of Mom. He goes to the kitchen and pours two glasses of cranberry juice, ice in his, none in Linda's. Then he takes them out to the family room, sets one down on the coffee table where Linda can reach it and folds himself into the loveseat.
"Mom," he says quietly. "We need to talk."
Without preamble, she asks, "You think he's good for her? You really do?"
"I really do," he replies, watching her. He'd come downstairs knowing she'd be calmer now, and ordinarily he'd be diplomatic and non-confrontational. But as he said before, he's had just about enough of all this—the time for sitting back and playing neutral is over; this isn't about calming her down, it's about persuasion. "You saw how they were last night. When's the last time you saw Roxanne sit like that with anyone? And this morning!" he exclaims. "When have you ever seen her so physically comfortable with someone? She never was that way with Peter, that's for sure. He was all over her, never the other way around, even when things were good between them."
The ice in his glass clinks and settles as he takes a drink. Still, Linda doesn't say anything, so he continues with a shrug, "Besides, you know our Annie's a handful. She needs someone who can keep up with her. And she needs someone who's as stubborn as she is, who knows her, who respects her enough to let her do her own thing but who'll know when and how to pull her back if she needs him to. If anyone can do all that and not go completely insane," he says, his tone growing sharper towards the end, "it's Megamind."
Linda flinches a little at the name, but Drew is relentless. "Megamind," he repeats firmly. He thinks of something, snaps his fingers. "And you know she'll never be bored with him. You know that."
"I do," Linda admits. She sounds reluctant, but the whole family knows how much Roxanne hates monotony. And she is painfully aware that, while Megamind is many things, boring is not one of them. She makes a disgruntled muttering noise, says in a low voice, "He broke her arm," but then shakes her head when Drew huffs indignantly and opens his mouth to argue. "No, I know, I know. She fell and the robot-thing caught her. I know.
"I just don't understand it, I suppose," she sighs, leaning back into her chair with a groan. Old bones. "I don't get it at all. After everything he's put her through? Everything he's done to her? He told me himself: he is dangerous. His lifestyle, even now, even if he is everything she claims…that's not the kind of life she needs!"
Drew is very calm. Too serious, his voice too level. "How do you know what kind of life she needs?"
She scowls at him, but concedes. "Fine, fair enough. But I don't believe he's changed," she adds before he can reply, her irritated expression finally giving way to the deep worry she's been doing her best to hide. "I can't believe this isn't all just an act."
"Keep watching," he suggests blandly. "Maybe you'll see something new."
"They're not even the same species." She sighs and rubs her eyes, glances at the clock. "It makes no sense. It isn't—it isn't right. I held my tongue with Ganeesh because only a fool insults one of the tentaculae directly. If he wanted to honor you as his—"
"Pronouns, Mom, I keep telling you—"
She stumbles. "If…if ku wanted to honor you as…whatever, fine." She shakes her head. "My point is, it wasn't like it was ever going to be a long-term thing. But really, interspecial relationships…" She trails off, pressing her lips together. She hardly wants to insult her son, even if he is far more open-minded than she's comfortable with, but what she really wants to say is interspecial relationships are wrong. She settles instead for, "I don't understand them."
Drew is quiet for a moment. Then he says, softly, "I know some things you don't about how their relationship got started. I want you to hear it from her, but for now, just trust me—it hasn't been all smooth sailing."
"That's not what it sounds like to me."
"Of course she's not going to tell you that!" he exclaims. "She's trying to defend him at every available opportunity; she's not going to deliberately give you an in! But they've fought." He chews his lip. "After Bernard…you should have heard her."
Linda looks up, honestly surprised. "She called you?"
"I've never heard her so mad," he says in a low voice. "And you know what a temper she has. She was out for blood."
"That's as it should be," Linda replies.
"No, I mean literally. I had my work cut out for me, talking her out of going after him." He lets out a bleak laugh. "Trust me, she's not brainwashed."
"Then why would she go back to him?" she demands.
He shrugs. "I'm not clear on the details there. Something about when he was fighting Titan. Speaking of whom," he adds pointedly, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Fighting other villains? Not really in character, is it?"
Linda brushes it off. Nobody's sure exactly where Titan came from; that whole subject was extremely hush-hush. Conspiracy theories—most of which involve Roxanne's cameraman—are still flying. Either way, Megamind's territoriality is common knowledge. "It still doesn't make any sense! She deserves better than some misshapen alien who'll never be able to give her a normal life!" Outside, the mid-day light dims under lowering clouds and the grasses by the cliff bend and quiver in the wind, and raindrops begin to tap at the roof.
He ignores the 'misshapen' comment with some effort. "So what if it might not be the perfect life you imagined for her?" he demands. "So what if they're flawed? She had something like the perfect guy with Peter, and it wasn't right for her!"
This is true, much as she hates to admit it. "So tell me. What do you see in this relationship?"
"You have no idea," he groans, flopping forward and scrubbing both hands down his face in feigned exasperation. "You just have absolutely no idea. You've got two people with trust issues up to here, right?" Waving a hand in midair just under his eyeballs. "But when they're hurt, they go to each other. They talk to each other. Their whole relationship is founded on trust and communication. Do you know how rare that is?" he demands, flabbergasted. "To be able to talk about everything together? Especially Roxanne," he adds. "You know she has trouble trusting people, Mom, you know she does. Dad let her down a few too many times growing up."
Linda sighs and rubs her knees, shifts a little so that her hip will stop aching. The trouble with what Drew is saying is that she does know how rare it is for Roxanne to act like this. It just doesn't fit with anything Linda knows about her daughter. And how, how is Megamind the person she has chosen to trust? How is he a good choice?
She knows she can't decide what's the best thing for Roxanne. But she also knows that this—whatever 'this' is—can't possibly be the best thing. It's wrong.
Crowing his evil. Dancing in circles. Mad laughter echoing around the big room. Pointless additions to machines designed solely to injure. All these little pieces of cruelty, and Roxanne refuses to see them. Worse yet is the possibility that she does see and has willingly joined him in his megalomaniacal, dangerous world. "Andrew, I am only going to say this once," she says in a low voice. Her eyes are distant, she's watching the rain outside. "Aliens have been part of my life since I was three years old. They are a major part of your father's job. You guessed that years ago. Your uncle Rodland introduced us when the two of them were working together on some sort of project involving outworlders. Rod has been involved with aliens since as far back as I can remember and his associations and…and choices tore my family apart."
Finally, she looks over at her son, her mouth set in a grim line. There's a reason she and her husband were able to raise their two children to be so tolerant of people from other worlds—there's a reason Roxanne and Drew are open-minded in the extreme when it comes to physical appearances and biological differences. Still, Linda hadn't expected either of her children to go this far, and she can't help but regret not explaining the dangers when they were younger. "So I hope you'll forgive me if I'm just a little bit wary about cackling alien madmen who claim to be reformed. And you'll forgive me for not wanting that kind of life for my daughter."
She finishes her drink like she has a grudge against it and sets it down on the coffee table, where it does that magical thing that cold glass with liquid in it does when it hits dry, room temperature glass, forming a little ring of moisture that will never quite go away.
She and Orson hadn't wanted their children to be afraid of their father's work or the strange people he sometimes brought home with him, so they'd refrained from explaining the risks and dangers until the children were older—Linda, at first, hadn't agreed; after all, she'd grown up with that fear and turned out okay. But Orson finally pointed out that she'd never be able to shake it, and did she really want her children to go through all that?
Of course not. So they'd talked about other worlds, about the vastness of space and the wonders Rodland had seen out there, and not about why Orson is a dead shot with such a wide variety of weaponry. They'd talked about other countries and cultures and planets and peoples until 'country' and 'planet' ran together in the children's minds and became simply 'unfamiliar, but not unknowable.' It's doubtful that Roxanne really even sees Megamind as an alien, and not just a blue man with a big head and weird biological requirements. Drew had never seemed to view Ganeesh as anything other than a person who needed to live in a tank and didn't look remotely human in any way.
She'd messed up. She'd never wanted her children to live with prejudice, she can recognize her own prejudice as something wrong and damaging in its strength, and she stifled it for years for her children's sakes. But—apparently—she'd never taught them necessary caution. Some prejudice is good, isn't it? Isn't it? If it keeps you from being hurt?
Maybe someday she'll work out an answer to that question.
Nearly ten minutes pass before she finally stirs and looks around at Drew again. Outside, the rain dwindles to a drizzle, but the grey sky isn't any brighter. At least it isn't getting any darker, either. "And just how are you so damn certain he isn't playing all of us?"
"You only ever saw the news broadcasts. How are you so certain that's who he really is?"
She half-smiles. "I asked you first."
Drew bites his lip and decides to end this conversation. He could elaborate, since he's done his research, but she's only half-listening to him anymore. If he pushes any harder she'll stop taking him seriously altogether. "Listen. Just listen. There are things you don't know anything about, so…please. Please just try to tolerate him for a few days." He offers her a tight smile. "For my sake, if not for Annie's. She might be out of her mind, but you know I'm not."
Finally, she smiles. It's only half a smile, but it's a real one. "Sometimes I wonder."
"You need to cut him some slack. He didn't want to come out here and face you. He really, really didn't. But he did it for her."
She's had just about enough of this. She has been silent on this subject for far too long, and she's done. "I don't believe he does anything for anyone but himself. This isn't going to last."
"Believe whatever you want, you'll still be wrong." Shut up, he reminds himself. Shut up, you were going to shut up. But he can't seem to stop going. "And you're lying to yourself—if you really thought it wasn't gonna last, you wouldn't be half so upset. Sooner or later, he's going to be your son-in-law, and you know it."
"Has he asked her?" she asks, suddenly worried.
"Not that I know of." He shakes his head. "But he will. They're already living together, remember, and he wouldn't have come all this way to meet us if it wasn't serious."
Her lips thin, and her stomach roils. She isn't sure why she has such a deeply visceral reaction to the idea, but she does. It's entirely possible that her prejudice is stronger than she knows. "Don't remind me." It honestly makes her want to scream; as much as she can try to be calm and collected, there's a part of her that finds the whole idea absolutely vile. Before she can stop herself, she's adding, "I'm more than half-tempted to make them stay at a hotel."
Drew settles back in his chair, vastly disappointed and not bothering to hide it. "Well, that's not bigoted at all."
Her gaze snaps up. "What—I'm not bigoted!"
"Bigot," he snaps, and now that she's finally looking at him she can see exactly how upset he really is about all this. He's been keeping it together very well, but he's starting to lose control again. "'An intolerant person with strong opinions, especially on politics, religion, or ethnicity, who refuses to accept different views.' Emphasis added."
She's pale. "This has nothing to do with ethnicity."
"Sorry, what was that about how you hate aliens?"
"I don't hate aliens," she growls. "And species and race are not the same!"
He bites his tongue, though he really wants to snap right back at her. They should be the same. Once it's determined that both species are of equal intelligence and sentience, it shouldn't matter what the DNA looks like or even what shape someone is. It's never mattered to him, after all. As long as they're smart and can give informed consent, what difference does it make? But he knows that's an unpopular view, and he's tried to have that discussion with his parents before. Not going to make that mistake again. "Aren't you the one that taught us not to judge someone based on their outward appearance? Actions are what's important. You taught us that."
"I am judging him by his actions," she hisses. "Ten years of actions as a supervillain, putting her in danger week after week for his personal amusement."
He's fighting a losing battle now. "Maybe that was him flirting."
She scoffs. "Oh, so he flirts with flamethrowers?"
"Yes!" At her scowl, he adds, "I'm serious, Mom. It was the supervillain equivalent of pulling her pigtails. Metro Man would have rescued anyone; it didn't have to be her. I'm pretty sure he kept picking on her because he liked her." He shrugs, wishing he'd thought to bring the cranberry juice out to the living room with him instead of putting it back in the fridge. It helps to have something to do with his hands, and taking a drink is a good excuse to pause and collect his thoughts. "And sure, his lack of social skills is appalling, but half the people at my lab are just as bad. Worse, even." He makes a face, but he sounds frank enough. "I hate to buy into the 'awkward nerd' trope, but seriously, have you met my coworkers? Paul's been halfway stalking one of his neighbors for almost three months. Yikes."
That gets a chuckle. "I'm glad you've never seemed to have that problem."
He smirks. "I have no sense of shame. It's a gift." Then he sighs and shakes his head. "Just…look, I don't wanna keep beating this dead horse. But…"
Linda heaves a sigh. "Oh, go ahead. Out with it."
"She didn't come home for how many years?" he asks, some real desperation crawling into his voice as he reminds her. "And now twice. Thanksgiving and Christmas." Traveling is expensive and that's the excuse Roxanne usually gave about why she couldn't make it home, but Drew is under no illusions. He's only gotten along so well with his parents because he knows how to keep his mouth shut about the important things. Roxanne never learned that trick. "Don't think she won't leave again if you won't at least try to accept her life as it is, without trying to change it." He stands and carries his glass to the sink.
Linda stays where she is, sitting in the middle of the couch with her chin in her hands, her eyes distant.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Megamind has one hand on the doorknob to go back into the house when Roxanne suddenly stops dead in her tracks, her head to one side. He blinks at her. "…Is something wrong?"
She blinks once, then shakes her head no and stuffs her fingers in her ears.
Mystified, Megamind opens the door, and if he hadn't already braced himself for something he might have taken a step back. There's an absolutely terrible noise coming from somewhere inside—upstairs, he thinks, but the smashing cacophony of drumbeats is difficult to trace. "What the heck?" he shouts, but Roxanne just shakes her head and reels over to the kitchen peninsula, drags herself into a barstool and puts her head down on the counter.
Megamind takes the stairs two at a time, and yes, the noise is coming from Drew's room, but at this point he's too bewildered by the noise and concerned about Roxanne to bother knocking, especially when the older man clearly isn't going to hear him.
Roxanne called Drew's room a 'horrific wonderland of confusion,' but other than the awful noise it's not very horrific at all. There's a simple bed below the window, the walls are lined with shelves—okay, the shelves are covered with stuff, but other than that the room is fairly minimalist and none of it looks particularly horrifying. Not quite as horrifying as the drummer in the corner, who has headphones clamped over his ears and his eyes shut and his hands moving almost too fast to follow.
Megamind isn't going to waste time trying to yell; he just goes over and unplugs the headset. Drew stops mid-riff with a yelp of surprise.
"We're back," Megamind says flatly. "Bad day?"
"Eh." He shrugs. "Could be better."
"Your mom?"
"Still has her head up her butt, sad to say. She's barricaded herself into her room." He puts the drumsticks down and stands up and stretches, rubs at his eyes, which are reddish. "I don't think we'll be seeing much more of her tonight."
Megamind hands him the pack of cigarettes from earlier and Drew raises an eyebrow—the box is significantly newer-looking than it had been originally. Megamind colors. "I, uh. I got you a new one."
"You smoked the whole thing?" He watches the alien dump a handful of sad-looking cardboard fluff from his pocket into the trashcan, and up goes his other eyebrow. "And then you shredded the box."
"It was a stressful afternoon."
Drew shrugs and opens the window before tearing open the new pack and lighting up, leaning on the sill to exhale into the winter air. "Don't worry about it. Least I could do. And hey, you wanna talk, I'm not good at it, but I'll try."
That gets a laugh. "I think I'm all talked out." He taps on one of the drums, flicks a cymbal repeatedly until Drew looks over again.
"Y'know, it really is almost funny, the amount of shit you got stuck with."
Megamind snorts. "Yeah. Tell me about it. But I keep telling Roxanne, you know, I'm over it. All the really bad stuff that happened was all before I was even a teenager. It was decades ago; I've moved past it." He folds his arms over his chest. "Doesn't mean I like it, but I'm not…damaged, or anything. So what's the big deal?"
"How'd she take it?"
He sighs. "Like you, but with more crying." He neglects to mention that some of the crying was on his part; after all, he has his pride. He's quiet for a moment, then he just flops and sits on the bed and scrubs his hands over his face. "I really shouldn't have said anything at all."
Drew turns around, frowning. "I dunno. Sometimes you gotta get these things out in the open, you know? Get 'em off your chest."
Megamind shrugs and doesn't reply. He'd tried to explain this to Roxanne earlier, on their walk: he knows perfectly well how to deal with things by himself. He takes them in, thinks about them for a while, makes his peace with them, and then that's the end of it. Dealing with personal hardships by talking about them really is not his way. But Roxanne doesn't understand that, and apparently neither does Drew, and Megamind is done trying to explain things.
Drew finishes his cigarette and then motions for him to move out of the way so he can start digging around under the bed. "Well," he says, sounding slightly muffled, "I'd be lying if I said I never bottled stuff up. But I know that's not real healthy."
"I don't 'bottle stuff up,'" Megamind tells him, nettled. He's scowling, his mouth a thin line. Clearly, he'd rather just drop the whole thing. "Just because I don't talk about it."
Roxanne's lanky brother reemerges with a sneeze, a shrug, and a large, dusty cardboard box. "Well, man. As long as my sister's happy, I don't much care what you do."
Megamind eyes the box warily. "What's that?"
"Toys," Drew says with a grin, then tromps towards the door to go downstairs. He's not going to force the issue if Megamind is insistent. "You ever play with Legos? Best cure for a bad mood."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Several hours later, the living room floor is a no-walk zone. Tiny bricks are everywhere. Roxanne has something resembling a bridge spanning the sofa, and Drew has folded himself into the loveseat again and is busily constructing a scale model of a monoamine.
Megamind hasn't completed anything yet. He'd started off by hunting through the pile with intense focus, setting some pieces aside and discarding others, rifling through for almost an hour and a half before he even began constructing anything. Now he's seated cross-legged on the floor, a small line between his eyebrows, lower lip between his teeth. He sends his hands flickering through the pile of bricks and tiny motors, sorting more bits into the 'use' pile.
Roxanne fully expects him to fine-tune the pile when he finishes picking out pieces, but he doesn't. Instead, he starts to assemble parts of a vaguely pyramidal machine, maybe a foot and a half high. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't stop to think. He finishes the first machine in under an hour, then builds a second as swiftly as he did the first. There are no pieces left over.
Roxanne busies herself with her own pile of Legos and watches, fascinated, until Megamind finally sits up and looks around with a blank expression on his face. "What do you need, hon?"
"Rubik's Cube. Or something shaped like that."
She smiles. "Second drawer down in the side table."
Drew leans over and rummages around in the drawer without leaving the loveseat. Megamind blinks at him and comes a little bit out of his hyper-focus. "Be honest," he says, "You had your spine surgically removed and replaced with a slinky."
He passes the alien the colored toy with a smirk. "Oh, you're one to talk. I'm not sure your pelvis is actually connected to anything. You take dance lessons?"
Megamind shrugs, fiddling with the cube. "Picked some things up from some of my uncles, but no. Why?"
"You move like a belly dancer. Hips go left, ribs go right, it's distracting."
Roxanne doesn't comment; she's watching Megamind mess around with some kind of latched door on the bottom of one of the pyramids. "What are you doing? That machine going to solve it?"
He shakes his head and sets the Rubik's Cube in place, then closes the pyramid again and plugs it into his phone. He scrolls through his list of apps, settles on one Roxanne doesn't recognize from where she's sitting, then sets the phone on the floor.
"Stand back," he says, getting to his feet and backing away.
"Why?" Drew wants to know.
Roxanne is already on her feet and hurrying to hide behind the sofa. "Don't be an idiot. Do as he says." She throws a hand out and catches him by the sleeve, dragging him over the back of the loveseat with surprising strength.
"Oof!" he exclaims, and then yells and covers his eyes to shield himself from the sudden flash of blinding light. Roxanne already had her eyes covered; she'd taken her cue from Megamind, who had his arm over his eyes to begin with. Clearly, the two of them have done this a time or two.
Megamind lowers his arm and peers over the couch, then looks at the two humans and smirks. "Take a look."
Drew stands up, blinking the spots out of his vision, and Roxanne peers over the back of the couch—Megamind hasn't stood, so neither will she.
The Lego machines are both intact, but the Rubik's Cube has disappeared. "Where'd it go?"
"Get down."
Mystified, but not stupid enough to hesitate a second time, Drew complies. The weird little smirk hasn't left Megamind's lips. "Three…two…"
There's another flash and a sudden crack, and Megamind shoots to his feet and lets out a whoop. Roxanne scrambles up, looks around, sees that the Rubik's cube has reappeared in the second pyramid, and grins happily and drags her boyfriend into a side hug, bumping her head against his shoulder. "Congratulations, sweetie. Legos? Really?"
"Yes yes yes," Megamind says gleefully, dancing in a very small circle. "Haahahaha. Yes."
Drew has to take a few seconds to find his voice. "That's—that's impossible. That's impossible."
"Oh, obviously," Roxanne agrees, drawling sarcasm, eyes dancing as she looks at Megamind, who looks happier than he's been all day. "Isn't this one of the ones from, oh, what was it…The Possibilities of Impossible Structures?"
He stops dancing and stares at her, a surprised little smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "You read that?" Roxanne shrugs and smiles back, coloring a little, and he scrunches his nose at her, bewildered but pleased. "But it was under an assumed name! How did you find it?"
"I know people," she tells him. "Research."
"You are an incredible woman," he says flatly, "and I love you. Really? You read the whole thing?"
"What do you think I used when I went to work on Nibs?" she asks, and takes his hand and squeezes it. "I didn't do all that by myself. Minion helped, too, but we're no supergeniuses."
Drew is still staring openmouthed at the pair of pyramids, each of which is probably a good foot and a half high. "But how?"
"I am a supergenius," Megamind reminds him. "Just because I no longer flaunt it doesn't mean I can't use it when I want to. Exhibit A," he adds smugly, waving at the small Lego structures with pride, "a fully functional parallel entanglement tunnel made of Legos and powered by a smartphone." He smirks, but then it slides into something more like a proud grin as he glances at Roxanne. "It's no AI, though."
She leans away and blinks up at him in mock-astonishment. "What's this? Sharing the spotlight?" He pretends to huff at her, and she chuckles. "I was only building off your designs, you know that."
He doesn't look like he cares very much. "True, but you had to understand them first. Not every human can say they improved on the work of an alien supergenius."
Drew resigns himself to being ignored; if they're going to carry on without explaining what they're talking about, he's going to poke around the transporter. Parallel thingy tunnel. Whatever. He clambers over the back of the couch and picks up the now-empty machine, turning it around in his hands. It's a lot heavier than he'd expected.
Then he picks up the other machine to study the cube inside. "It's upside down," he says after a moment.
Megamind sends him a strange look. "It's a cube. It has no up or down."
Drew looks over and holds up the pyramid for inspection. "No, I mean, this side was on the bottom before it transferred."
"Huh." Megamind blinks. "That's odd, I didn't expect that. What do you think caused it?"
Drew snorts. "You're asking me?" He shakes his head, a chagrined smile playing across his features. "Man, I am flattered you respect me enough to ask my opinion, but I'm a neuroscientist. I got nothin'."
Megamind's eyebrows shoot skyward as he remembers something. "Oh! Oh, do you want me to look at that thing you're working on?"
Drew's focus narrows. "Would you? That would be awesome. There's something up with the specs the client sent me, I dunno, they're weird. Nothing I've ever seen before. I can do it, but I'd really appreciate a second opinion before I start something."
Megamind shrugs. "I'm no biologist, but between the two of us I think we can figure it out."
Roxanne clears her throat. "Would you two mind maybe doing that later? Either of you hungry? Because I am."
"Do you even need to ask?" Drew says, grinning, and Megamind nods. "Mom said something about fish, I think. But unless you've had cooking classes since you disappeared to the frozen north, maybe we'd better just order a pizza."
Megamind glances at him. "You can't cook, either?"
"I live on PB&J and the good graces of my many friends."
He blinks, frowns. "I don't think I know what that means."
"It means he's a mooch," Roxanne clarifies flatly, and Drew glares at her in mock-outrage.
"I am not! I always help pay for stuff."
She gives him a frank look. "How many chefs, was it? Three?" He grins and waggles four fingers at her. She nods. "Thought so."
"Hey, in my defense, the last one is a line cook, not a chef, and she asked me," he defends himself. "And usually the last thing any cook wants to do after a long day is get home and cook more. I am not in it for the food."
"Just the protein," she mutters as she heads over to look in the fridge.
Her brother is honestly speechless for a second before he stammers out, "Oh, now that was tasteless." When she turns back around he immediately goes pale and holds out both hands. "No! Don't say it. I walked right into that one, you don't have to say it."
She laughs, but relents. "I don't suppose one of your foodie buddies would be willing to come over and help?"
He grimaces and shakes his head. "I mean…probably Amy wouldn't mind. But…"
She cocks her head. "What?"
"I try not to mix family and pleasure." He gives an exaggerated shudder and wrinkles up his face, sticking out his tongue. "Gets…messy."
Megamind's voice makes them both jump and look over at him—he has his phone out and a scowl on his face. "Yeah, hi, don't say anything, just tell me you know how to cook fish. …Uh, let me check. What kind?" He glances over at Roxanne, raising an eyebrow.
She lifts a shape wrapped in white butcher paper out of the fridge and reads the label. "Catfish."
"Catfish," Megamind says, then blinks. "I don't know! No, don't tell Minion I'm cooking! Not for at least an hour. He'll worry himself sick, that's why I called you."
"I'll do it," Roxanne calls over.
"Roxanne says she can handle it," Megamind tells the person on the other end. "What? Oh." He sound abruptly dismayed. "Seriously? That bad?"
She sends him a sharp look. "Is that Wayne? Because if it is, remind him that the grouper incident was not my fault."
He relays this information, then chuckles. "He says to tell you, 'noodles.'"
She turns bright red and hisses something that sounds like gonna kill him.
"Okay. Corn meal? Isn't there anything that isn't…oh, okay then. Yes, gloat about it, Mr. I-Can't-Eat-Pears," he adds scathingly. The scowl is starting to creep back onto his face. "Okay. Eggs and flour is okay? But when do I…but what kind of brown? …That doesn't help. Ask Minion what happened the last time I tried that, he'll tell you; you're apparently all buddy-buddy with him now. Yes. Oh ha ha, very funny. Thanks. Goodbye." He stabs the 'end call' button and groans, then glares over at Roxanne as if it's her fault he's annoyed. "Of all the inconsiderate, rude—how did you tolerate being associated with that man for seven years? Smug, smirking son of a salmon, don't know why I even bother…"
Drew is staring. "Wayne? Not Metro Man."
Megamind stuffs the phone in his pocket with an angry grumbling noise. "Metro Man is dead."
"Then who is Wayne?" Drew asks suspiciously. "If he isn't Metro Man."
Megamind opens his mouth, then pauses and frowns a little before looking up at him. "You know, that's a very good question," he says, "and if you figure it out, you should let him know."
"But—"
"Drew," Roxanne says when Megamind starts scowling again. "Listen very carefully: Metro Man is dead."
Drew blinks at her, then at Megamind. Roxanne looks very steady, and Megamind looks the way he used to on TV sometimes when he was trying to look threatening but wasn't sure if something was going to explode.
So Metro Man is dead, but Wayne Scott is alive—Drew isn't quite sure how that works, but that 'if you figure it out, let him know' thing was telling. He's no expert on the psychological effects of being a superhero, but he knows what wearing masks for too long can do to people. From the way the other two are acting…I'll probably get a better answer if I just contact him myself.
He drops the subject. "So did you find out about the fish?"
Megamind nods, looking relieved to be out of dangerous waters. "Dip in egg, then roll in flour. Fry in pan until brown and crispy on both sides. Sounds simple enough. Why is the rich guy with the personal chef the one who knows how to cook?"
Roxanne shrugs. "Might have something to do with living underground for almost a year. But anyway, I think I can do that. You guys make some kind of side?"
They stare at her blankly.
"Didn't you want to learn how to mash potatoes?" She looks at her brother. "Drew, you sounded yesterday like you knew how to make them."
Megamind's whole face lights up. "Can we?"
Drew grins, relieved. "Potatoes! Those, yes, those I can do. Do we have any?"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
It turns out they do have some potatoes in a hydrator drawer in the refrigerator, and Drew and Megamind set about peeling them with a will. Since they'll take longer than the fish, Roxanne decides to sit back and watch the show, which is actually rather funny. Megamind is good with any number of machines that could kill him if he slipped, but hand him a paring knife and he's all thumbs. Drew isn't much better, but there's only one peeler, so they end up trading it back and forth whenever the person with the knife gets sick of it.
"At least you don't get cut every time you miss," Drew grumbles, sticking his thumb in his mouth and scowling. "You must have skin like an elephant. Give me the stupid peeler."
Megamind passes it over to him and takes up the knife, tongue between his teeth as he focuses on getting every bit of discoloration out of the potato. "This is the most mind-numbing activity," he complains. "I don't know how Minion does it. He claims it's relaxing, can you imagine?"
"Ow! Aaaaargh."
He looks up at the taller man with a quizzical grin, trying not to laugh. "Did you just cut yourself with a potato peeler? Maybe I'm not all that tough; maybe you're just exceptionally frag-aisle." He pauses, then frowns. "Maybe you should stop stabbing it."
"Don't be ridiculous," Drew grits from between his teeth, "this is what the recipe says to do."
Megamind checks. "Nnnno, it says 'cut into two-inch chunks and…don't point that thing at me!"
By the time the potatoes are finally finished boiling—Roxanne had tried to point out the 'baked potato' microwave setting, but the two geniuses decided they didn't trust it and insisted on sticking to the recipe instead—tempers are running high. Particularly Megamind's. He isn't used to sharp things with the audacity to actually cut him, and while nothing managed to break his skin, he is scraped up a little. "This," he complains. "This is why I wear gloves."
"Oh, poor baby," Roxanne croons sarcastically while digging out a bag of flour from the back of the pantry. "Want me to kiss it?"
"Yes," he answers happily, opting to ignore her sarcasm and play up his semi-oblivious nature. "Yes, I really think you should." Unfortunately, the smirk he sends at her back ruins the innocent expression he'd been aiming for.
"Oh, gag me!" Drew interrupts. "Can you two not be cute here, please?"
Luckily, not much remains to be done once the sliced potatoes are drained and dried except to mash them—less luckily, this activity is made more complicated by the fact that Roxanne is now in the middle of attempting to fry catfish, and three unskilled cooks in a small kitchen is a recipe for disaster. Particularly when all three have had a long day.
Roxanne turns the fish and makes a mental note to have only one potato masher in the house at a time. "Stop fencing with those! You're getting mush everywhere!"
"Back! Get back, it's my turn!"
"You had your turn!"
"Ages ago! I want another try!
"If you don't shut up right now, I'm going to throw this oil all over both of you!" she cries desperately. The fish is sticking to the pan a little. Is a little okay? Should it be sticking at all? How does fish even manage to stick to a pan filled with oil? Is it going to burn? Is it already burning?
"You wouldn't dare! And he started it!" Megamind snaps, hugging the bowl of hot potatoes to his stomach and menacing Drew with the masher. "Give me the milk, fiend!"
"Only if I get to add it! You'll mess it up."
"I will not! I will add it a little at a time, as the recipe says to do!"
The pan chooses that moment to crackle and spit, and Megamind leaps sideways with a pained yip of surprise, staring at Roxanne like she's just betrayed him. She glares right back, utterly unsympathetic. "That was not me. That was the grease."
Drew takes advantage of Megamind's distraction to steal the potatoes. "Ha!"
"Wha—" He looks up, radiating shock and hilariously childish outrage. "Hey!"
The startling sound of choked laughter makes all three of them pause and turn to see—unexpectedly enough—Linda, standing in the doorway of her room, clinging to the frame for support and absolutely crying with mirth. She'd come out to wait for the pizza delivery, become distracted by the cries of distress, and paused to watch. The door to the master bedroom almost faces the kitchen, so it's an easy place to stand without being noticed and observe, but the frustration and protesting and the potatoes and the fish and Megamind's face and Drew's manic grin and Roxanne's scowl and it was all just too funny. She can't even gather enough breath to speak; the more she watches, the funnier it gets. Especially now, with everyone looking so confused.
Megamind's surprised expression slips into a bleak scowl and Linda finally manages to gasp out, "You," right before the pan snaps and spits again. It's a good thing the alien isn't holding the potatoes anymore; this time, he jumps a good two feet in the air with a noise like "Yeek!" and lands with an accusing finger aimed at the stove. Linda loses all control all over again. How does he move like that?
"That thing is evil!" Megamind exclaims shrilly. "And I should know! Dows it at once!"
"It's douse, and don't boss a lady with a hot flipper," Roxanne warns, aiming it at him.
"Then make it stop biting me!" He skips back a couple steps, still glaring. At her, at the pan, at Drew. Very pointedly not at Linda.
"You okay, Mom?" Drew calls over, just as the doorbell rings. Linda staggers off, flapping a hand at him, still half-sobbing with laughter. She manages to rasp something about cleaning up before she vanishes into her room again and clicks the lock behind her.
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For all the chaos that accompanied the cooking and the subsequent clean up, the actual dinner is fairly calm. Conversation doesn't start up until everyone is on their second piece of fish; Megamind isn't sure about either of the humans, but he was too hungry to put much effort into talking once they finally sat down to eat. The food needs salt but otherwise it's good, even though none of them is particularly adept at cooking things that don't come in packets. All in all, it's a success.
Eventually Roxanne reaches for her glass and glances at her brother. "So the band is still together, then?"
He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah. We opened for Goat Candle a couple months ago, it was awesome."
Megamind desperately tries to stifle a snort. Roxanne giggles openly. "G-Goat Candle?"
Drew grimaces. "Their fans freak me out. But Horizontal got some recognition and some face-time, so that's good."
She shakes her head. "I still can't believe you're in a metal band, though. That's so bizarre."
Megamind tenses, because 'bizarre' in that tone of voice is not something that usually gets a good response, but Drew just shrugs and returns to his potatoes. "No weirder than you growing up to be a TV news reporter," he replies calmly, then looks over at Megamind, who stares like a deer in the headlights. "My sister. I tell you what. She was so terrified of public speaking that she faked a stomach flu to get out of speaking as valedictorian at her high school graduation."
"I was not faking! I threw up and everything!"
"Oh, sure, you were sick all right." He rolls his eyes. "But it was nerves, not the flu. She was sick as a dog, right up until Dad said she was too sick to go to the ceremony, then it was amazing how fast she recovered."
Roxanne glares. "I hate you."
"No you don't. You love me. Everyone loves me."
"Is that what they're calling it now?"
He grins at her, cocks an eyebrow. "Jealous?"
"Of you? Puh-lease." She grins right back. "At least I don't have to seduce my friends into liking me."
"I don't have sex with all my friends."
"Name six that you haven't. Co-workers don't count and neither does the band. Or married people."
He doesn't even hesitate. He's always very clear about his intentions at the outset, and some people just aren't compatible with the idea of sex without any possibility of romantic attraction. And some people just aren't compatible with the idea of sex at all. "Becky, Dori, Alex, Alan, Rowan, and Mark. They like me because I'm such a wonderful person." His grin turns into more of a smirk. "Should've asked me before I had time to think about it, sister dear," he admonishes.
She scowls at him. "You are a nymphomaniac."
"I'm good at what I do," he says loftily, "and what I do is people."
"You're a siren is what you are. I have no idea how you get so much action. I swear, you're not even that hot."
"Well, I'd be disturbed if my sister thought I was hot."
"You're disturbing, all right," she huffs. "Remind me again, how many of my boyfriends did you steal when I was in high school and college?"
"Hey, now," he says reproachfully, "Only two, and I wasn't even trying. Besides, if they were that inclined to cheat on you with your brother, wasn't it better to find out they swing that way sooner rather than later?"
"Everyone swings your way. You're a freak."
And so the conversation goes. If conversation is the right word. With so many insults flying without pause for breath or thought, Megamind would have been inclined to categorize it as an argument—if not for the smiles and complete lack of perceivable hostility. This is weird. This is insults with smiling. Is it banter? It sounds too mean to really qualify as banter, but everyone seems happy. This isn't something Megamind knows what to do with as a third party.
Suddenly Drew sits up and snaps his fingers again, apparently remembering something. "Oh. Speaking of doing people. Did you want me to find somewhere else to sleep tonight?"
Megamind blinks and rocks back in his chair, now confused beyond belief, but Roxanne nods. "If you don't mind, yeah, that would be awesome."
Megamind looks at her and finally has to ask, "What's going on?"
"I dunno about you," Drew says, already clicking through contacts on his phone, "but Roxanne is a Ritchi. We aren't exactly quiet."
"Drew!" she protests, but he just smirks.
"Look, you know it's true, I know it's true. I'm sure he knows it's true." He jerks his chin in Megamind's direction. "You're my sister. I don't need to be listening to that." Then he sends an apologetically meaningful glance in the alien's direction. "Between you and me, the insulation in this house is absolute crap. So be quiet, okay?"
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, too stunned to even begin to figure out a response. Drew has returned his attention to his phone and doesn't appear to notice.
Roxanne scowls at her brother, craning her head to try to see who he's texting. "You could just go home for the night," she points out.
"I could," he agrees affably, hitting 'send,' "but you have to admit, this is more fun. Besides, home is on the other side of town."
"So you're going to your little black book because you're too lazy to drive." Roxanne shakes her head at him, feigning disgust but not quite succeeding in hiding her amused little smile.
Drew snorts. "No, I'm going to my little black book because if I'm gonna get screwed up the butt I'd rather it not be by the price of gas. Or holiday traffic."
Even Megamind has to laugh at that one, but honestly, he isn't quite sure what to make of the totally aboveboard way they're discussing all this. Sex is something he does—much to his eternal surprise—not something he talks about, even with Roxanne, unless they're in the middle of it. But here they're just chatting easily about noise, and timing, and the prospect of screwing, and apparently now Drew knows his sister is going to be doing things with him tonight and is fine with that? Of course he'd be fine with the fact, but knowing when? And details? And it's full of what sound to him like blatant insults but maybe those are just jokes? And somehow Megamind is the only one who finds this the least bit awkward and confusing?
Apparently so.
Maybe this is what it's like, then—having family. He's always wondered. If Roxanne weren't family, Linda would have kicked both of them out by now and Drew wouldn't be half as open about everything as he is. It must be sort of like having friends, Megamind thinks, only less complicated in some areas and more complicated in others. Like with the friendly insults. Bradley calls him 'Freak' in a friendly way, but that's different. That's a nickname. That's not saying, 'you only have friends because you're good in bed' or 'your life choices are weird.'
These are two people he's really comfortable with, and he's still completely out of his depth.
There's a feeling twisting deep inside, but it takes him a minute or so to recognize it. When he does he stands and quietly excuses himself, goes into the bathroom, crawls into the tub with his phone, and dials.
"Sir?"
He exhales shakily. "Minion. You have a minute?"
"Always, Sir. You know that. How's the trip going? Is everything okay so far?"
Megamind opens his mouth, then closes it, unable to decide what to say. And he's not sure he'll be able to say it when he figures it out.
Minion waits a few seconds, then prompts, "Hello?" It doesn't help that he sounds concerned.
"I miss you," Megamind finally blurts. A surprised silence follows this, and he just feels gross. Small and alien and blue and two thousand miles outside his comfort zone. He swallows and hugs his legs, drops his forehead to his knees.
Minion, who is on his way back to the Lair to take care of some things, frowns. He hadn't expected Megamind to say anything along those lines—give him an update, maybe, explain some things about Roxanne's family—but it isn't until he hears a damp-sounding sniff that he realizes how upset his friend is. "What happened? Did you and Miss Ritchi get in a fight?"
"No, it's just…stuff," Megamind says in a wobbly voice, and oh, this is bad; he never generalizes like that. "I just—I don't know what I'm doing. There's all these jokes and…and the dynamic is all wrong. All the stuff you don't say, I guess it's okay to say it to family? But some of the stuff you do say gets held back? Especially in confrontations?" He sounds deeply troubled, almost disturbed.
Minion rubs the front of his dome on reflex. It's school all over again. Social situations have never been Megamind's forte; he'd escaped having to deal with the social ramifications of being unable to pick up on the majority of human cues by resigning himself to never fitting in and making sure everybody knew not to tangle with him. The most he's ever been able to do is memorize patterns and get along that way, but a candid family group isn't something he's encountered so closely before, so he has no roadmap of how to proceed. And, of course, now that he's trying to build something with Roxanne's family, all the intricate social dynamics suddenly matter more than ever. He's flying blind, and that's not something Megamind likes to do.
"Sir, have you talked to Miss Ritchi about any of this? I'm sure she'd be willing to help—"
"No. I can't, I…it's been a bad day for both of us and she's…" He falters, not sure how to describe what she's doing with Drew right now. "I don't want to bring her down again just because I'm an emotional idiot." There, he thinks, that's true enough.
Minion isn't quite sure what that means, but he decides to leave it alone for now. "Where are you?"
"In the bathroom. And." There's an audible gulp, but Minion knows better than to draw attention to it. "And everyone is being so nice to me. Well, except Linda, but…I can't trust it. Minion, I don't understand!"
The little fish sits up straight. "Did you tell them who you are?"
"I—yeah. It was a disaster, but you know we expected that. That's not the problem." Megamind draws a shuddery breath and does his best to calm down. "The problem is I don't know what's going on! I don't know what I'm doing. There's all this human social interplay going on around me and I don't know what's important and what isn't. I don't know the rules. I don't know anything useful, and as soon as I make a mistake it's all going to blow up in my face and…we'll go back to square one. Where I'm just the weird blue thing nobody likes and nobody wants." He knows he's being over-dramatic with that last bit, since too many people like him now for it to be really true unless he somehow manages to screw up royally. But really, it still feels that way sometimes.
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Minion says, trying to sound encouraging. "Miss Ritchi's been very understanding of your social gaffs. She'll help you smooth things over if you need it, you know that."
"But I don't want her to have to smooth things over!" Megamind exclaims. "I want to get this right without making her have to constantly apologize for the weird alien's bizarre behavior. She shouldn't have to…to watch me the whole time like I'm some animal that needs a handler." He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, shaking his head. "Minion, I hate this. I hate not knowing what buttons are safe to push and which will fire the death ray. Right now she and Drew are in there teasing each other about his indi-scry-minate promiscuity and her…noisiness. During sex." He hears a sound from Minion's end that sounds suspiciously like a snort of laughter poorly disguised as a watery cough and sits up straight in the tub, scowling at empty air. "It's not funny, Minion! They're actually talking about that over the dinner table. What on Earth am I supposed to do with that? There is literally nothing I can think of to add to that conversation that could possibly be safe to say!"
"Then don't say anything, Sir. Just observe." He's still trying to sound as upbeat as he can; Megamind tends to listen better when Minion refuses to join him in his insecurities. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. In the meantime, I'm not there, but that doesn't mean you're alone. You have Miss Ritchi! Tell her what's confusing you, she'll help you."
Megamind scowls. Minion can hear him scowling. "She'll think I'm an idiot."
"No, she won't," Minion says patiently. "And even if she does, she's caught you being foolish before. It isn't going to change the way she feels about you. Trust her, sir. Let her help."
"I guess," he mutters. Then he heaves an exasperated sigh. "I just wish I was back at Evil Lair where everything makes sense! I can't even handle her and Drew alone. What am I going to do when her father shows up tomorrow and I have to deal with Linda again?"
"Linda's not there?"
"No." Megamind lets his head fall back against the shower wall with a thump and rolls his eyes. "She's hiding in her room so she doesn't have to look at me. She really hates me. And she's completely justified," he adds quickly, before Minion can say anything, "you know she is. So I'll probably never convince her that I'm a changed man, and that's fine, I mean, I'm used to that." He pauses, but Minion stays quiet. Megamind bites his lip. "I just wish... I wish she'd stop yelling at Roxanne about it!" he blurts out, then bites his lip again, shaking his head hard in an attempt to calm the whirling thoughts. He's completely forgotten that Linda's room is right on the other side of the wall and he should maybe keep his voice down. "I'm—I'm causing all this upset between Roxanne and her family just by being with her. Not even doing anything, anymore!" he exclaims. "Just by…being me. With her. Roxanne said that's okay, but—but it's worse than I expected. It's causing so much hostility between her and her mother, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want her to have to choose between me and Linda."
"Because you're afraid she won't choose you?"
"No, quite the opposite. I'm ninety-six—okay, ninety-two percent certain she'd choose me if it came to that." He chuckles nervously, spinning the ring on his right hand. "That's the problem. I don't want her to do that, not for me. Not for anybody," he corrects himself. "It's stupid. And I can't even do anything about it! They're both so darn stubborn!" He thumps a gentle fist against the side of the tub a few times, scowling at nothing. "I should have just stayed in Metrocity. I'm so…useless here. I don't know what to do, Minion."
There's a long pause. Finally Minion asks, "Sir, do you want me to come get you?"
He sighs, long and resigned, and rubs his long fingers over his face before answering. "Ugh, no, Minion. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be all right. I'm just…frustrated, I think. And homesick. It helps to hear your voice."
Minion almost stammers at that; Megamind rarely admits things like that. He recovers quickly. "Well, Sir, you know you can call me anytime."
"Thank you, Minion. You always know what to say."
A knock sounds at the door followed by Roxanne's voice, "Sweetie, are you okay in there?"
Great, he thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose, spent too long in the bathroom. He raises his voice, calls back, "I'm fine. Be out in a minute."
"Are you sure? You've been in there a while." Roxanne pauses. "And I'm not sure, but I think I was getting some blips on my Minion Radar." Another pause, during which Megamind makes a silent Aaaarghhh face and and slumps, gritting his teeth and thumping his forehead repeatedly against his knees in frustration. "Was that you?"
He raises his head, forces himself to sound normal and not irritated or defensive. "I'm on the phone with him now. Sorry I disturbed both of you."
"It's okay," the doorknob turns slowly and she peeks her head in. "What's wrong?" she asks, a sympathetic little bewildered smile curving her lips. "You looked kind of uncomfortable when you left."
He smiles brightly. "I'm fine."
Unfortunately, he'd briefly forgotten that Minion could still hear him. They usually communicate via watch, so Megamind isn't quite used to having a line that's open both ways. "Sir," warns the fish over the phone.
Megamind huffs. "Oh, all right. I was just feeling a little overwhelmed, okay? I needed to be alone for a few minutes. I'm fine."
"Sir, that wasn't quite the approach I was thinking," Minion says dryly, but there's no reply. Megamind is probably sticking his tongue out at the phone.
"Do you want me to leave?" Roxanne asks.
He sighs and gives up. "No, it's okay. Minion talked me through it."
"Thank you, Minion," Roxanne said, raising her voice to be sure the fish could hear her through the phone.
"No problem, Miss Ritchi," the little ichthyoid calls back. Megamind grimaces and holds the phone away from his ear. "Take good care of him for me, would you?"
"Oh, for evil's sake, I'm fine. Good night, Minion."
Minion doesn't sound at all bothered by his friend's gruff tone, calling cheerfully, "G'night, Sir!"
Megamind clicks the phone closed and accepts Roxanne's proffered hand to help him up out of the tub. Once he's back on his feet, she asks, "What's wrong? It's more than just Drew and me being crude at dinner, isn't it?"
He makes an inarticulate grumbling noise, then says, "Look, it's been a long day, can we talk about it tomorrow?"
She narrows her eyes at him.
"I promise, I'll tell you all about it in the morning," he says, and she can tell that, as disgruntled and possibly upset as he might be right now, he's being totally sincere. He might be able to fool the rest of the city, but he sucks at feigning sincerity with her. "And if I don't, you can call Minion and get it out of him. But tonight…" He trails off, shaking his head. Then he looks at her and just comes right out and says flatly, "I am tired, and emotionally drained, and I need to relax with you and not worry for a while."
She looks at him, and he really does look as tired as she feels. Honestly, she doesn't really feel up to a heavy conversation tonight. "Okay," she concedes, "But tomorrow, you spill."
He lets out a little relieved puff through his nose and nods. "Of course."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
It isn't really a night for words.
There have been words all day, words upon words, shouted, whispered, spoken. Too many words, with too much to think about, and far too many bad ones. Old words too long left unsaid and new words rashly thrown to light. It comes as no surprise that when Megamind and Roxanne finally fall into bed, they're both exhausted. It's been a long day and hard on both of them, emotions running hot and cold, and by now they're feeling blank and empty.
But they need each other. They badly need to reaffirm that they are real, in their skins, with each other.
There are no words when they start; they're already on the same page. There are no words during; other nights they sometimes try new things together, and then they talk and question, but not tonight. They've been learning this dance for weeks and months and they both know what to do and when. Where to put their arms, their hands. Fingers twisting, curling, thumbs. Turn. Palms flat and press. Quiet, quiet, hip to hip, push her down, hold him up. Move. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, gasp, head back. Eyes go wide and mouths follow and yes. Follow her over. Follow him down.
After—
No. After, there are still no words. She strokes her hand across his cheek, down the strong length of his neck, and he touches foreheads and nuzzles gently then falls back and lies quietly next to her, their damp fingers tangled under the sheets. Neither of them is particularly interested in locating their pajamas. They lie together, breathing, skin against skin over muscle and bone and being. Being is about all they can do at this point, but as long as they're being together, they'll be all right.