HERE WE ARE AGAIN
Man oh man so being employed leaves, like, no time for writing at all and then when I come home all I can do is sit and stare at my screen. And I've been staring at a screen all day because I'm an accountant, that's what we do.
So I get home at 7 and I hang out with my folks (living at home aw yiss) and then we have dinner and I don't sit down at the computer until 9 or so, and then I have to be in bed by 11 and then I need to get up at 6:30 so that I can be at work on time…
I'm not complaining! The fact that I'm employed at all is a definite plus. But the whole "two hours a day to do ALL OF MY INTERNETING AND WRITING" is kind of the pits, you know? So anyway, if you've been reviewing or sending me inbox messages and I haven't responded, that's why. I'm swamped and haven't worked out a good routine yet.
Anyway yes here is chapter 13, I love you all, here is a big big hug. Thank you for reading my mini-rant. I love you. You're amazing. You are a wonderful person. Even if shitty things happen to you sometimes, those things are not your fault. You are a good and kind person and you are loved. You made somebody smile today! Somebody thought about you today! You're a good person and I like you. Here is a cookie with a picture of us holding hands on it.
Chapter 13
"More bread?" the waiter asks.
"No, thank you," Linda says, and Orson hides a smile. This is the third time they've been asked since they got their entrees.
The restaurant is quiet and calm. It's a place both of them have been before many times, and for Linda, the familiarity is a tremendous relief. Having Megamind around is more jarring than she ever would have expected, and she takes the opportunity to rant at Orson for a while before finally subsiding.
"I'm sorry," she sighs. "All I've done is go on and on about him all night. That's not how I wanted to spend dinner."
Orson shrugs and helps himself to the last of the bread. "'S okay," he replies easily. "You've done a good job keeping all this to yourself. You gotta get it off your chest, I feel you."
She shakes her head. "Well, you talked to him this afternoon after I left. How did he sound to you? What do you think of him?"
Orson puffs out his mustache. "I'd rather not say until I'm sure."
"Oh, come on. You have to give me something."
"I think he's dangerous and highly intelligent," Orson says in a neutral tone. "I also think he's got a lot of very deep-seated fear he's trying to cope with."
"I already know that," she says sharply. "Come on, Orson. You can fool the guys at work into thinking you're a big, slow teddy bear of a dad, but you can't fool me."
Orson twists his mouth to the side but doesn't argue. "For better or for worse, he and Annie are very close," he says, twirling his spoon ineffectually in his pasta before giving up once again and using a fork. "They're communicating on a nonverbal level in a way you just don't see from couples who've only been together for a few months."
"It's creepy," Linda agrees.
"It's int'resting," he asserts. "They know what the other is thinking halfway before they finish speaking. Their communication is remarkably efficient. It's calculated."
Linda frowns. "What do you mean, calculated?"
He grins and shrugs. "You just watch, I bet if one of them says something that could be taken negatively, the other one will double-check to make sure that's what they really meant. They're consciously avoiding miscommunications."
"Or she's brainwashed," Linda murmurs. She's reluctant to let go of that idea; it's much more palatable than thinking her daughter is oblivious enough to really believe Megamind is in love with her.
But, "She's not brainwashed," Orson says flatly, and Linda sighs again.
"I know," she says, rolling her eyes. "She's in love with him." On some level, she's able to recognize that her hatred of him is on a level that isn't entirely rational—that may in fact be entirely irrational—but she can't seem to change that.
"And you don't approve," Orson says. He's stating the obvious, but sometimes that's all you can do with Linda—she likes to be pushed to talk about things sometimes.
"How could I?" Linda wants to know. "For that matter, how can you?"
"To be fair, we don't know him." Also to be fair, Orson isn't completely sure whether he approves yet, either. But he's been the voice of reason in this family for more than forty years, and he's not planning on giving that up anytime soon.
"Why do I have to know him?" she scoffs.
Orson scowls at her and takes a drink of his beer to stall for time, but the Old Rasputin doesn't help him come up with a better answer than, "You don't have to, but it'll sure help."
She swallows hard and puts down her fork. "So I should just roll over and accept it?"
That wasn't what he said. "'S not your choice, babe." This right here was why he hadn't wanted to say anything. "Don't you think Annie knows what she's doing? She's our Roxanne. She always makes sure she's got a way out. She always leaves herself an escape route."
"No, I don't think she has, this time. She's too emotionally invested." Linda shakes her head again. "But is he? Invested in her, I mean? I think he's somehow manipulated her into thinking he is. And even if he hasn't," she continues when Orson opens his mouth to counter, "he's still a villain. He's hurt people. How can she just ignore that?"
"Right, yeah, referring to your first point—she knows him and she'd know if she was being manipulated. She's a reporter, for one thing, and she's seen more of him over the years than probably anybody else," he points out when his wife scoffs, and even Linda can't argue with that one. "And that's my response to your second point, too. If she loves him knowing all that, well hell," he gives an exaggerated shrug, "I'm not going to second-guess her."
He clearly means for that to be the end of it, but Linda isn't about to let it go. "Orson. You can't tell me you think an alien supervillain is an appropriate match for her."
"I think I trust my daughter's judgment," Orson says, and for the first time there's just a touch of sharpness in his tone. "She's a smart girl. He wouldn't bother with her if she wasn't." He gives her another snaggle-toothed grin. "Let's give him some credit, he's got good taste in women."
Linda rolls her eyes. "This is your fault, you know," she says without rancor. "If you'd let me tell them about the dangers when they were younger—"
Orson's friendly expression darkens. "Stop that. He's a Delta Pyxidisian, not a—whatever that other guy was. My point is, he would never blow you out an air lock."
"They look the same to me, minus the orange head spikes, and you don't know that."
"That isn't his fault and yes I do." He sighs. "Right, look, if he was gonna make a move, he would've done it already. He is emotionally invested in this relationship—frankly, I think it unsettles him even more than you! You're not the one whose heart stands to be broken, here!"
The waiter pops up at his elbow again with a sunny smile. "More bread?"
"No," Linda and Orson chorus together without looking up, and the waiter evaporates with his smile still firmly in place.
The two stare at each other for a moment longer before Linda finally cracks a weary grin. "It's such a relief, having you home. I'm going out of my mind with him around and no one to vent at about it."
"I can tell," Orson says dryly as he refills her wine glass. "You aren't so good at maintaining perspective."
"I know." And she does know. "I just…"
"For all we knew, he was putting Annie in life-threatening danger for almost a decade," Orson says reasonably, and Linda nods. "I was scared too, it was frightening for both of us. Ain't nobody blaming you for being worried about her. But I was more ready to take her at her word when she said she wasn't worried, and you…" He trails off, his meaning clear.
"I never was," Linda finishes. She sighs again and picks up her fork, returns to her filet of sole. "I know, I know."
"You say that a lot, darlin'," Orson says, "but I'm not sure you do know. I know you don't want to hear it, but it may be time to bury the hatchet."
Linda's lips thin but she doesn't say anything, which is an encouraging sign. Orson takes it a step further. "Nobody's sayin' you got to like him. Just got to live and let live, is all. Hasn't he done anything good while he's been here?"
She frowns and reaches for her wine glass. "I suppose he's…funny. Sort of the way clowns are funny."
"Clowns aren't funny."
"He's goofy," she amends. "I'm fairly certain it's affectation, but it's possible some of it is natural. You should have seen him fencing with the potato masher."
Orson snorts. "With the what?"
"The kids made dinner one night—I stayed in my room. They made a terrible mess but they did clean up after themselves." Linda wracks her brain, trying to think of something else. Then she settles back in her chair. "And the first day they were here, we went out to the cliff…"
She trails off. She hadn't thought of it right away because Megamind and Pavel are still somewhat separate in her mind, but now that Orson's asked her and she's relaxed and comfortable, she remembers how pale Roxanne was, looking down at the beach. And she remembers how Megamind leaped over the rock separating them and put himself between her and the dropoff even though there'd only been about a foot and a half of space for him to land in—for a moment, she'd thought he was about to go over the cliff, himself. Do you know who I am? Am I ever going to let you fall?
No. You aren't.
"Roxanne panicked," Linda says absently. "The height was too much. He calmed her down."
I'll run that bike to the ground before I let you fall like that.
There are surprisingly few videos of what happened that day—most of the city was evacuated, and there's nobody to say what happened after Titan threw away his camcorder. Everybody who was left and had a camera or phone with video capabilities had taken some footage of the giant brainbot head, at least, and of course they'd heard Megamind's challenge. But the Metro Spire is more than half a mile high. To anyone observing from the ground—and everybody was observing from the ground; when a villain is tearing up the city you stay out of tall buildings—Titan was barely a speck in the air and Roxanne was all but invisible.
So Linda isn't sure exactly what all was said or what happened that day. Megamind impersonated Metro Man, yes; Titan worked it out, okay; Roxanne stole a traffic sign and went running after Titan, and the next conclusive footage of Megamind is of him materializing in the fountain. There's very little recorded dialogue.
There's a lot she doesn't know, and she's aware of that. She also knows it's unlikely that Roxanne will tell her any of it, which…hurts. It made her deeply uncomfortable and worried before, but it hurts now because she can see what Orson means about Roxanne and Megamind communicating nonverbally. She barely communicates with me at all anymore, she thinks, and that stings. She'd always tried to raise her children with the understanding they could talk to her about anything, anytime, but it looks like she failed in that respect.
It's Megamind's fault, of course. It's his fault, it has to be. It's his fault, because she can't stand for it to be hers. "He's evil, Orson."
Orson snorts, he can't help it. "If he was evil? With the things he's seen, everything he's experienced? If he was evil he'd want to return all that tenfold." He sounds completely calm, even amused. "He'd have mailed us her skin in a box, if he was evil, or flown it like a flag from the top of the Spire."
Linda stares at him, completely taken aback. "Orson Ritchi, I've never known you to exaggerate."
He shrugs. "It's true."
"You don't know him," she says, but her tone is cautious because not only does Orson not usually exaggerate but he also doesn't often make assertions he isn't sure of. And that was a pretty unambiguous statement.
"I know his past," Orson says flatly. "Jesus, Linda, you have no idea, he was dissected. The kind of person he could have been, he'd make a Carrollian look like a kindergarten teacher."
Linda cocks her head. "Yes, he mentioned that. You can't seriously believe it." She reaches for her wine.
Orson puffs out his moustache, watching her. "Maybe if Megamind said it, I wouldn't believe him," he admits quietly. "But he didn't. Rodland did."
Her hand spasms; she only narrowly manages to avoid knocking her glass over. Her gaze flicks to Orson, scanning his face for some sign that he's joking. "What?"
"When he dismantled the research division of the PHED—years ago—he told me why." Orson's voice is wooden. "I was there. He was crying, he was so mad."
Linda stares, pale. "You—he told you—"
"You didn't have clearance. You still don't, but you need to know." He flattens his big hands on the table. "When that man was an infant, he watched his planet disintegrate into a collapsar. His parents pushed him past the event horizon and sent him to Earth. He was taken from the only safe place he'd ever known and put in a little white room that he couldn't get out of. Tell me how many traumas he's already experienced."
"At least six," Linda says after taking a moment to think about it. "Possibly seven, depending on whether an infant can be aware of the implications of planetary extinction."
Orson nods. "Okay. Now add to that. Invasive tests, some physical, some psychological. They undo his mind, leave him alone to remake it. Isolation. Lack of physical contact. Lack of guidance and stimulation. They tell him these are tests, and he thinks about tests and what that means and he wonders if he's passing his tests. And then they tell him he's going to sleep. He's going to sleep for a while, and when he wakes up he's going to be fine.
"But when he wakes up, he isn't fine. He can't move, he can't speak, and they're taking him apart. And he thinks…what does he think?" Orson cocks his head. "Because he is thinking, Linda, he's awake and he's confused and he's in pain and he has to know why." He presses his index finger to the table for emphasis, his eyebrows raised as high as they'll go. "It's his job to know why, it's his job to know everything." His voice is hard. "His job, as far as he knows, is to get everything right, because if he passes all the tests and gets everything right—you tell me what he thinks, you've got a psych degree."
Linda sighs. It's not even a difficult question. "If he gets everything right—he can go home," she says tiredly. "He thinks he's being punished. He failed, so he's being punished. Orson, why…?"
Orson puts down his fork. They're in a restaurant, having dinner, and it's Christmas. There's music playing in the background. Everything is blissfully normal. "Because, Linda, darling. I love you. I love your stubbornness, I love your tenacity, I love how protective you are of the kids. You're an old momma bear, and I love you for it. But it's time to take a step back, breathe, and let it go." He reaches across the table, grabs her hand in his and squeezes. "Baby, we were wrong. Plain and simple, we were wrong about him. And this time, everything I love about you is tearing our daughter's heart in half."
Linda sighs, looks at her food, looks at her husband. "I just don't know what else I'm supposed to do. I hate him."
Orson squeezes again, his blue eyes clear and earnest. "I told you, nobody's saying you gotta like him. But you gotta stop looking at what he could have been, you got to see him for who he is. It's time. Trust me. Trust me."
Linda looks at him. Squeezes his hand. "Trust you," she echoes. "When have I done anything else?"
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Megamind and Drew have made their way back to the kitchen, since Megamind is thirsty and Drew is claiming to be bored. Downstairs, someone has brought out a guitar and a chorus of off-key voices are raised in song. "I guess it's not surprising; my dopamine is rising and my glutamate receptors are all shot! I'd surely be bemoaning all the extra serotonin, but my judgment is impaired and my confidence is not!"
"What on Earth?" Megamind wonders.
Drew just grins at him. "Allosteric modulation, No Long Term Potentiation hastens my inebriation—give me a beer!" he sings along, then laughs at the expression on Megamind's face. "No, I'm fine, I'm just happy. If I get too drunk, you'll know. I'll wind up playing the pots and pans and nobody wants that."
Megamind remembers the drum set in Drew's bedroom and shakes his head. "No," he agrees. "No, we don't. Sorry, why were you looking for me this time?"
Drew looks at him for a moment and almost seems embarrassed. "Well…I kind of feel responsible for making sure you have a good time tonight," he admits. "I mean, I dragged you here when you obviously weren't super-enthused about coming. Plus I made you sing."
Megamind frowns, confused. "O-okay? If I didn't want to come, I wouldn't have come."
Drew half-smiles and manages to sound only a little sarcastic as he turns away. "Right," he says, but Megamind shoots out a hand and catches him by the elbow to pull him back around. Startled, Drew blinks at him.
"You didn't coo-erce me into this," Megamind says flatly. "I know you can do something like that." He drops his hand back to his side, scowling. "But not with me. You ping on a different level. I can smell what you're doing but it doesn't affect me very much."
"I thought it might be something like that." Drew sighs. "Are you sure? Your biosystem is way out of whack. And, I mean, if being around normal humans does weird stuff…"
Megamind shakes his head. "That's different. That's pheromones. You're char-ismatic." He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking for a way to explain it. "You're pure charisma, you're not—you're a low-level siren. What you're doing is intentional. Most humans are incapable of controlling their emotions at all, and that's what gets overwhelming. The smish-smash of pheromones all over the place." Then he thinks of something and looks up, confused. "Wait, so you know about this and you're…you were worried about it?"
Drew shrugs. "Well, yeah." He reaches up and scratches at his beard, not looking particularly bothered. "It raises all kinds of questions about the nature of free will."
Megamind grimaces. "Yes, I can see how that could be difficult. What about…" he hesitates, but Drew cocks his head and looks curious. Megamind still feels like this just isn't something people talk about, and he hooks his thumbs in his pockets and shrugs awkwardly. "Consent?"
"Heh." Drew grins at that and drops into one of the chairs clustered around the kitchen table. "Yeah, I worried about that for a while. But what I figured out was, I can't really play around with what people want, or who they're attracted to. Just what they're feeling. Honestly, you'd be surprised how far you can get just by saying, hey, buddy, I like you and I'd like to have sex with you." He puffs out his skinny chest. "It's all natural, baby. Raw animal magnetism. The Charisma Kid."
Megamind frowns at him. "And yet you were worried that you made me want to come here."
Drew grimaces. "I was worried that I made you feel…" He trails off, looking for the word.
"Safe?" Megamind guesses. The other man shrugs and makes a face that says it wasn't quite what he meant but was close enough. Megamind's lips tug into a little smile and he looks down into his cup, which is empty. "I do feel safe. But it's not because you're manipulating me." He looks up again, finds Drew blinking, confused. "It's because you're my friend," he explains, feeling foolish. "And. I know you wouldn't hurt me." He's been leaning against the counter so far, but now he pushes off and heads to the punch bowl so that he can get something drink—and so that he has something to do with his hands besides fiddle with his pockets, because he thinks probably that wasn't the right thing to say. People don't just come out and say things like that.
He fills his cup halfway and then rests the punch ladle back against the side of the bowl, staring down into the reddish orange liquid. Suddenly embarrassed and irritated with himself, he scowls. "So stop worrying about me," he says, more sharply than he'd meant to. "Roxanne worries about me enough, I don't need that from you."
"I worry about you because you refuse to worry about yourself," Roxanne says, coming into the kitchen. "What are you guys talking about?"
Drew isn't smiling. He actually looks a little bit sick. "I…Megs, look…"
"Shut up," Megamind snaps. He has a sinking feeling that Drew is thinking about his mystery drug, and for the first time, Megamind wishes Roxanne hadn't arrived just then. "Just. Shut up. Exquire intra…sinus?" The word for 'pocket' escapes him, but he's hoping Drew will have taken Latin at some point during his academic career. Unfortunately, the blank stare the older man is sending his way sort of dashes those hopes. "Intra sinus vestrum," he finishes in a grumble. He glares for a second, then takes a drink of punch—and spits the mouthful back into his cup with a grimace. He holds the cup out to Roxanne. "This is yours now."
"I don't want that, you spat in it," she says, amused.
"Throw it away, then. It's spiked, I can't drink it."
"No, don't pitch it. Just give it to me." Drew reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers. "I'll drink it, I don't care." He downs about half of it in a gulp, then shudders. "God, that is vile. You didn't tell me it was vodka, I thought it was rum."
"It tasted better than the stuff Ginger had," Megamind says. Drew looks at him curiously. "Guy I met on the way down here. I don't know what he was drinking."
"Megamind met a mountain man," Roxanne elaborates.
Drew snorts. "Say that five times fast. Worse than vodka?"
"I thought so," Megamind gives an exaggerated shudder. "It reeked of corn."
It's a good thing Drew wasn't drinking when he said that, because he would have spit out whatever was in his mouth. As it is, he just splutters incoherently for a moment. "Whoa, wait. You drank moonshine?"
"It was very strong."
Roxanne slips her arm around his waist and looks at him fondly. "He managed to keep it down until he got back to the cabin. I was very proud of him."
"It was gross," Megamind complains. "But I didn't want to be rude, so I tried it. I didn't have much. Mostly I just pretended." He sends a sidelong glance at Roxanne. Proud? She'd been deeply disturbed about that whole night, or so he'd thought.
Drew chuckles and leans back in his chair, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. "You are a piece of work."
"I am," Megamind agrees. Then he turns his head to kiss Roxanne's cheek before stepping away. He feels restless, like he has to keep moving, he can't stand in the kitchen and just stay there. "And this piece of work is going to go explore. See the aftermath of that gummy bear portal in the other room."
"I'll come with you," Roxanne says, but Drew clears his throat.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you—alone—for a moment," he says, with an apologetic glance towards Megamind for excluding him. "Stick around?"
She blinks at him, puzzled. "Sure," she says slowly, then looks back at Megamind. "You go ahead, I'll catch up."
Megamind shrugs and heads off. Roxanne admires the view until he's gone, then looks up at Drew. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"
"Not much, I just…wanted to give you a heads-up, you two can leave whenever." He shrugs casually. Too casually. "I just wanted to tell you 'cause I'm pretty sure talking about sex makes him uncomfortable. Anyway, I'm gonna crash here tonight."
Roxanne raises her eyebrows. "Oh? Drewww's having a sleep-overrrr," she singsongs. "And with whom will you be sleeping?"
Her brother gets an oddly doofy grin on his face. "Javier."
Roxanne recoils, blinking. Javier is married, or so she'd thought, but Drew isn't the sort of person who would sleep with someone who's attached. She squints at him, suspicious.
He rolls his eyes at her, unable to contain his sheepishly delighted grin. "And Bernadette. My plans for the evening have really paid off."
"Who tops?"
His smile turns wolfish. "Not me. I'm in the middle of the sandwich."
Roxanne honestly isn't sure what her face looks like right now. "I'm happy for you, but that is an image that I really could have happily lived the rest of my life without."
"Don't ask the question if you don't want the answer."
She huffs. "Someday, I'll learn not to ask."
He snorts at her. "You? You couldn't stop asking questions if your life depended on it."
"Uh huh, and you can't sleep with the same person two nights in a row."
He smirks. "You're just jealous."
She smirks right back. "I landed Megamind, what do I have to be jealous about?"
He scowls. "You are such a bitch."
"And you're a skank."
"Just spreading the love around," he says cheerfully.
"Probably spreading something, but it isn't love," she replies, laughing. "Come on, you big philanderer, let's go see what our favorite blue dude is up to."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Catching up to Megamind is easier said than done. The kitchen was fairly quiet, but fighting their way back to the living room is a nightmare. Almost every other step, Roxanne is accosted by some partygoer or other and either given congratulations or asked strange questions—or some combination of the two.
Allison catches her on her way past for what has to be the fourth time. Somewhere, she's managed to acquire a floppy red Santa hat, which clashes tremendously with her bright red sweater. "Hey, I'm so glad I caught you, I forgot to ask earlier!" she exclaims. "This…might be a little TMI, but I read that if you stare at the color blue during sex it supercharges your orgasm." She flips the hat's white pom-pom out of her face and laughs a little, clearly embarrassed, but continues, "Does that work with him?"
"Ho ho ho-ly shit," Drew mutters under his breath.
"I don't know," Roxanne says as pleasantly as she can, ignoring her brother as best she can, "you'd have to ask him." Megamind seems to be getting more of the normal questions tonight, from what Roxanne can tell from what he's said so far—the weirdly personal ones are all directed at her, for some reason. It's probably a good thing.
"No, I mean, for you with him?"
She raises her eyebrows. "Allie, that is the twelfth sex question I've been asked tonight. Don't you people have anything better to discuss than how Megamind and I do the nasty?"
"No," Allison says cheerfully. "So is he any good?"
"I'm fantastic!" Megamind calls from across the room. It's unclear if he's responding to Allison's question, but Roxanne gestures there you go.
Her companion leans in towards her. "Is he really?"
"No," Drew says.
Roxanne smiles to herself and admits, "Yeah, he really is."
"Because he's blue?"
She only narrowly avoids rolling her eyes. "Because he's him."
Drew makes an exaggerated gagging noise. "Shoot me now."
Roxanne rounds on her brother. "Will you stop?"
Allison bites her lip for a moment. "I…I asked Hifumi and Carlie earlier but they both said different things…would you tell me, you know, what he's packing?"
"This," Drew says, "now, this I want to hear."
Roxanne's lips twitch. She's been asked that one several times, and she's given a different answer each time. None of the answers are accurate. She lowers her voice. "You've seen his hands, right?" At Allison's nod, she shrugs. "I really don't need anything else."
Her eyes widen. "Is that why he wears the gloves…" She looks thoughtfully across the room, frowning in contemplation of this new and not entirely inaccurate factoid.
"Sure," Roxanne says, thinking, why not? "Sorry, Allie, I gotta go."
"But—"
"No, I mean I gotta go," she says. She doesn't really, but she has no idea what else to say that will get through to this woman. None of her other stock polite conversation-enders have worked so far.
"Oh. Don't fall in!" Allison says brightly, and meanders off into the crowd.
"That girl is as dumb as a post," Drew groans as soon as she's out of earshot. "Brilliant, I mean, very smart when it comes to biomechanics, but zero common sense. I just don't know what Lana sees in her…" They've finally made it to the living room, but Megamind is all the way on the other side by the food table. Drew tilts his head.
There's a pause.
"If he asks you to marry him, you'll say yes, right?" he asks quietly, watching as the blue man laughs at something one of the interns is saying while he helps himself to an hors d'oeuvre.
Roxanne peers up at him, her expression quizzical, wondering where on earth that came from. "Why?"
"A bunch of things. Little things. You're comfortable with him."
She has to laugh a little bit. "I'm comfortable with him? Drew…"
"I mean you cuddle with him!" he protests. Joking nature aside, he's actually quite serious about this. "You're physical. You're cute with him. I've never seen you act this cute with anyone!" It sounds ridiculous, it really does, but the fact is Roxanne has always held herself aloof, never touching anyone more than she has to, never so free and easy with her laughter and smiles as she is now, and seeing her like this is both tremendously relieving and profoundly weird. "He mentioned your braces the other day and you laughed. You used to be so self-conscious about that!" he exclaims. "You tore Peter a new one when he talked about how much better your teeth are now. But Megamind? You let him insult you, you tease him right back. You're you around him."
"I was me with Peter, too," she points out, nettled. "And Nick, and Michael, and Chad, and all the others. I've just changed a little."
Drew refuses to concede. "But you're comfortable being you with him," he argues. "You're not holding anything back. I haven't seen you this open and sincere since…well, since we were kids."
Roxanne is quiet for a while, until Megamind, still smiling and laughing, glances over across the room at her and beams. He looks so happy. All those years sitting tied in that chair, one eye on him at all times, watching his maniacal grins and listening to his lunatic laughter, and Roxanne can't help but think he's never looked so bewildered and happy before. Like he doesn't even know what to do with all the good things life is suddenly handing him.
She's smiling back without even thinking about it as she admits, "He could have asked me a month ago, and I would have said yes. We discussed this last night." On the other side of the room, Megamind gives an elderly woman a friendly jab with his elbow, and she laughs and swats his arm. "It's almost scary, how fast I fell for him. Especially considering everything he put me through. It's just…he…" She trails off, biting her lip.
"You complement each other." Drew twirls the two ends of his forked beard, thinking. Megamind is right, he can't just let people think, he always has to say something. Luckily, what he says tends to be entertaining, if not exactly insightful. "You're not like me. I've never wanted romance or a committed relationship. I want to be an old childless bachelor someday and go on cruises and have lots and lots of casual sex and get murdered at one hundred and two by the jealous husband of a teenage nymphomaniac. That's all I've ever wanted. But you," he continues, ignoring the way Roxanne is cracking up beside him, "you only started saying you weren't the marrying kind a few years ago."
"Figured it might be simpler if I just stayed out of the dating pool for a while," she shrugs, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes without smudging her makeup—one of the many necessary skills of being on television. "Wasn't really going my way, and I had my career."
"Pfsh, don't give me that," Drew says, knocking his fist against the top of her head. "I'm your brother, okay? I know you. And I get the feeling that you never really stopped looking for, you know…"
"A relationship? Please," she scoffs, "I don't need a relationship."
"No, you don't," he agrees, to her surprise. "And I never said you did. What you need is a partner."
This? Oh, this is Bernard. He's my partner. She remembers that spontaneous hug, remembers driving to Hal's building in a daze, wondering what had made her do that and feeling a little thrill of excitement she'd thought she left behind long ago. She blinks, then looks up to find Drew smiling quietly down at her. It's a different face than the one he usually wears.
"And I think Megamind is a pretty good one for you," he says with a simple shrug. "That's all."
She tilts her head, asks an honest question. "When did you become such an expert on romance?"
He looks away. "Have you met Thomas? Big guy, greyish hair, hangs out around pianos a lot?"
Roxanne shakes her head.
"Dude can't put two words together when he isn't thinking about playing. You can talk to him right after he finishes a song, but that's it."
Roxanne frowns. "Is he any good?"
"At the piano? Oh yeah. He's a genius. But he's painfully shy and I was…worried about him, you know?" He shoves his hands in his pocket again, frowns, pulls out a scrap of paper. He glances at it, frowns harder, then shrugs and keeps talking. "People…people never see themselves clearly. Nobody ever thinks they're special. Kids do, but they lose that—maybe society pounds it out of them, I dunno. But adults, they think they're just cogs in a big machine, or something. We think, Oh, it's not like I deserve anything great. It's not like I'm anything special.
"And that's bullshit. You're made of stars," Drew says, running a bony finger around the rim of his plastic cup, parallel lines deepening between his eyebrows as he frowns. "You're made of the stuff stars give up when they die and there'll only ever be one of you, only one in all of time. When you think about it, that's pretty wild. All of history, all of everything since the beginning of time came together and made you. You could have been so many other people, so many hypothetical possible people, but you aren't, you're…you. And I think that's amazing.
"I just don't know how else to make people see that about themselves except through showing them physically. That's the point—sometimes, anyway, when it's not just about having fun." His eyes light up. "You show somebody they're beautiful—you make mirrors with your hands and you show them what you see, how amazing they are—and maybe they believe you. And if they don't, well…maybe you show them again, a different way, another time. And maybe you don't. It all depends."
Roxanne is staring at him. "Drew, that was almost poetic."
He blinks, looks down at her and seems to remember himself. "Plus I like the sex," he grins lasciviously. "Everybody wins!"
Barbara Grant, who'd been walking past on her way to get her coat when she'd stopped to listen, laughs. "Well, honey, with an attitude like that you're welcome to show this old lady anytime you want to."
Drew beams at her. "How's Tuesday work for you?"
"Tuesday would be lovely," she smiles. "No strings?"
He puts a hand on his heart. "Scout's honor."
She laughs again, deep and booming, and claps him on the back. "It's a date, then! Come on by around nine—same place as last time," she tells him, then waves goodbye to Roxanne and sails away towards the front door, parting the crowd like a ship parts the seas.
Roxanne turns to her brother to say something about his job as the laboratory bicycle, but then Megamind's voice reaches their ears and she and Drew both freeze and look over. His tone has gone hard and flat and the abrupt lull in conversation means people have noticed something is going on.
Megamind isn't smiling anymore—he's standing half in front of a young woman, one hand holding a cup and the other clenched into a white-knuckled fist. And standing in front of him…
Drew's lazy grin falls away, gives way to a worried scowl. "Ulrich."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
A very small, selfish part of the reason he's so upset—a very small part—is that things were going so well. He was talking to people, answering questions, asking questions of his own, and then the girl who hugged him before came up to him and she looked like she was going to talk to him, and then he'd caught a whiff of what was in the red cup and everything just went downhill from there.
"What is this?" he'd asked. "Did you make this?" Knowing the answer, he looked around.
"No," she'd replied, visibly confused. "No, I was in the kitchen and Dr. Goodman was making drinks for people, he gave it to me."
Megamind turned to Ulrich, who was standing nearby and saving Megamind the trouble of hunting him down and burying one of his expensive Italian shoes halfway up his behind. "What is wrong with you?" Megamind hissed. "Are you deranged?"
"What?" Ulrich asked, clearly defensive. "Pauline, come on, I didn't do anything," he'd insisted as she'd stepped back and closer to the alien.
Megamind is now so angry he can hardly see straight. "You—I can't believe you—"
"I make drinks!" Ulrich exclaims. "I worked summers as a bartender to pay for grad school." He raises his voice a little. "We can't all be strippers at the fucking Bellagio."
Standing more or less on the other side of the room, Roxanne has to blink at that one. Was it relevant, somehow?
Evidently so, because Drew turns to their hostess, who had been chatting with Allison nearby until Megamind raised his voice, and says "Bernadette, I'm sorry, I'm going to kill Ulrich Goodman and I'm probably going to get blood on your rug. Hold my drink."
She takes his cup, tells him, "Honey, the rug has seen worse. You kick his ass, I got your drink. And nice speech, by the way. About people being amazing."
"You're important to me," he says, and wades away through the crowd.
Bernadette leans closer to Roxanne. "Before I forget, because I will forget, please let him know that Barb threw her back out last month."
Roxanne takes it in stride. "Sure, okay," she says, and turns her attention back to her boyfriend, wondering if she should get over there and help somehow. Having seen Megamind in action, though—remembering the gas station in Nebraska—she isn't sure if she would just get in the way.
Pauline glances sideways at Megamind. "Wh-what's going on?"
"Your cup has been spiked," he snarls. He takes it out of her hand, takes a small sip, gags and splutters as his throat and crop fill with fire. Yes, definitely drugged.
"It's alcohol, Dickless, of course it's been spiked," Ulrich snaps.
"With rohypnol," Megamind snaps back, and then he realizes what Ulrich has just said. Right, he remembers dizzily. The fire has spread to his ears now, which are ringing. The bastard read my file.
But before he can react, Pauline steps forward, snatches her drink back from him and throws it in Ulrich's face. She doesn't say anything, but her mouth is a thin line and her eyes are huge.
Ulrich, it seems, has plenty to say. "You bitch!" he shouts, and aims a finger like a gun at her face. "You—you bitch, you fucking deserved what you got, you fat fucking—"
He doesn't get much further than that. Before Drew can get to them, Megamind grabs Ulrich's finger, steps up and around, twists, rotates, brings his other arm up and suddenly Ulrich is on his toes with his wrist bent back and his finger bent farther, dancing to avoid breaking the joint.
"Let go of me," he snaps. "Let go. Let go!" And he breaks away, but not before there's an audible kczkpop followed by a pained yelp.
"Oh, quit your whining," Megamind says coldly, "it's only dislocated."
"My hand—you've broken my hand—" Ulrich's eyes are black with rage and he lunges again, swinging at Megamind with his good hand. Megamind steps outside the punch and smacks him in the nose, then reaches around over Ulrich's shoulder, grabs his shirt and twists and turns, and Ulrich tumbles over and rolls onto the floor. Turn somebody's head and you turn their whole body, that's what Mr. Meanscary taught him.
Megamind automatically follows him down, striking him twice on the ear with his knuckles without thinking about it or really even meaning to. His left hand is still at the man's throat, but that doesn't stop Ulrich from shouting you're crazy, you're crazy, get off me, you're crazy and bleeding copiously from his nose all over Megamind's hand and shirtsleeve.
"I grew up in a prison," Megamind snaps, probably louder than he has to, but his ears are still ringing and the room is spinning like a runaway tilt-a-whirl. "You come at me like that, the fuck you think I'm gonna do, shitstain?" He shoves Ulrich away from him, then he whips around and stares at Pauline. His face is white and his eyes are very wide and his hands are shaking. "And you. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be safe. You deserve to—to be with people who care about you," he proclaims wildly, actually stomping his foot, "you deserve to be happy. I—I don't know what I ever did that possibly made me any kind of role model, but—"
Drew speaks behind him, loudly and slowly, in a commanding voice. He's got Ulrich by the back of his shirt. "Everybody. Calm. Down."
Megamind smells ozone. Good, he thinks, somewhere in his whirling tangle of thoughts, thank gravity for low-level sirens, and under that is a kind of horrified the whole room heard it everybody heard that
I just dislocated a man's finger and broke his nose in a room full of people what was I thinking have I gone insane
The crowd takes a kind of collective breath. "We gonna let one mean drunk ruin our night?" Drew asks, and he sounds cheerful enough but there's definitely an undercurrent of power there. "Course we're not. That'd be ridiculous. We're adults, so let's handle this like adults. Ulrich," he says pleasantly, "if you do not leave this house in the next thirty seconds, I will break your thick neck. And FYI, stripping at the Bellagio paid better than bartending because you were bartending in Reno."
People laugh. Someone calls out, "Break his other hand!" and more people laugh. Things start to return to something resembling normal.
"I'm—I'm sorry," Megamind says to Pauline, his voice sounding distant to his own ears, "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I just—"
"No, no don't be sorry," she exclaims, shaking her head, and it's clear she's just as agitated as he is. "You just, you just probably got me out of a really bad situation again, thank you."
He's dimly aware that Ulrich has left the room, and then the front door slams. "I have to go," he says, feeling sick to his stomach. That'll be the rohypnol and alcohol coming up—a small sip of alcohol like the one he had usually won't affect him this quickly, but drugged is another story. Drugged makes his throat fizz. "But I, I meant what I said about being happy, and you seem really nice."
What he wants to do is hug her, because frankly she looks like she really needs a hug, but that doesn't seem appropriate at all, and then he looks around and sees Roxanne and she tucks her bangs out of her eyes and taps her forehead as she catches his eye.
"Uhm," he says, and the room tilts away from him. He grips Pauline briefly by the shoulder, touches the skin between her eyes with the pads of his fingers—he can't touch foreheads with her, it would be weird in a way he can't really explain; it would feel too much like lying. "Sorry," he blurts again, and then he turns and reels away as quickly as he can go. "Scuse me pardon me sick alien coming through…"
A minute later he's bent over the toilet with the door closed and Roxanne crouched next to him, rubbing his back. He's glad she's there—once upon a time he wouldn't have ever wanted her to see this, but now it's a good thing, and he's not really sure when that changed but he's still glad. Her hand is warm even through the thick material of the corset and his shirt. It's nice.
"You okay, sweetie?"
"No," he replies thickly. "I just attacked a guy in front of a crowd of people. I just broke his finger with everybody watching. That's not o-okay." He urps unhappily, then empties his stomach.
"But that's better," he says, sitting back on his heels and reaching up a shaking hand to flush the toilet. "Better now."
There's a knock on the door. Roxanne cracks it open and gratefully accepts the washcloth and cup of water from Bernadette, which means she has to stop rubbing Megamind's back. He's mildly disappointed. The only normal thing in my crazy, upside-down world. It's funny how appropriate that statement still is, even months later.
"Is he all right?" the older woman asks, her forehead netted with concern.
"He will be," Roxanne tells her with a reassuring smile. "Tell everybody not to worry, he just can't process alcohol. Thanks." Bernadette nods and closes the door. Roxanne turns and passes the washcloth to Megamind, who wipes his face with it, then runs it around the toilet seat just to make sure it's clean before reaching up and putting it in the sink. He'll rinse it out in a minute. "Drink some water, sweetie," Roxanne tells him, holding out the plastic cup.
Megamind makes a face but swooshes some water around in his mouth before spitting it out, then drinks the rest of what's in the cup. "Tastes gross now," he complains. Then he sighs. "What am I going to do? I can't go back out there."
"Of course you can," Roxanne says. Megamind just looks at her. "You want to know what I saw out there?" He nods. "I saw a well-dressed, articulate young man stand up for an almost-total stranger in front of a roomful of his peers. I saw him avoid a drunken fistfight. And I heard him speak a very basic truth that too few people ever think about or understand." She leans forward and cups his face. "That's what I saw, and so did everybody else. You did everything exactly right."
His chest is tight, but he's not about to ruin his eyeliner. "I wasn't thinking," he whispers, and coming from him that's big, he'd been really upset. "I—I just lost it."
"You were absolutely within your rights to lose it, though. That other guy started it, everybody saw him." She frowns and scoffs a little. "And you didn't break his finger; he broke it himself trying to get away. It was pretty obvious you weren't going to do anything but hold him there."
Megamind gives her a sickly grin. "Obvious to you, maybe, but to everyone else?"
"Sweetie, for what it's worth, I've encountered very little xenophobia from anybody tonight. Lots and lots of personal questions, but nothing phobic except, 'but isn't being with an alien weird sometimes.'"
It's not a direct answer, but her point is clear and she knows Megamind will understand. The people who saw what he and Ulrich did aren't going to misinterpret what happened. Even if somebody does, somebody else will set that person straight before too long.
He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, and Roxanne squeezes his knee. He blinks at her. She's staring at his eyes again—she does that more than she thinks she does, but he doesn't mind, it means she's amazed with him again and he likes that. He half-smiles. "I guess you're right."
She looks at him for a moment longer, then asks if he wants to go home.
Megamind hesitates. Yes, he does, a little bit. But he also wants to stay. "Is Drew ready to leave?"
Roxanne cracks a smile. "He's not coming home with us."
Megamind raises an eyebrow. "Good for him." Then he pushes himself to his feet and goes to the sink to rinse out the washcloth and hopefully get the half-dried blood out of his shirt. He blinks at the lit candle on the back of the sink. Is that normal? A candle in a bathroom? It isn't a very pretty candle; it's in a jar with Yankee written across the outside. Who puts a candle in a jar?
"Make sure the water's cold," Roxanne says, and Megamind shakes his head and decides to ignore the candle for now. "Hot water will just set the stain."
"Blood is the one thing I know I can clean out." He sounds amused. "I may not do my own laundry but I've bled on enough things over the years to know how to get it out."
Roxanne smiles, thinking of sparks and sheets of hot metal. Many of the machines Megamind uses to assemble his creations were also built from scratch, which is something not many people are aware of, and heavy machinery is both dangerous to use and dangerous to construct. It's a miracle he still has all his fingers and toes. "I can believe that," she says.
It's quiet in the bathroom except for the running water. She eventually moves to close the toilet lid and sit down on it, watching Megamind's long hands rub and scuff at his sleeve, rinsing reddish water down the drain. "Your hands are gorgeous," she murmurs after a while. "It isn't fair."
He glances over at her. "Earlier, when you were in the kitchen with Drew, most everybody was in the side yard around the bonfire. There was a man at the piano in the living room, though. He showed me some things before people started coming back inside."
"Was his name Thomas?" she guesses, and Megamind nods.
"I think he went back to the basement when the room started filling up with people. I liked him." He's scrubbing his sleeve with his nails, which are short but not bitten; he wears gloves too much to ever get into the habit of biting. "He was nice. He had good hands, too. I think I'll get a piano for the Lair."
Roxanne is rubbing his back again, but this time it's more to feel the material of the vest, run her hands over the thick silk panels and boning. I'm going to peel him out of this thing when we get home, she thinks, biting her lip.
"Whoa hey now," Megamind says, and Roxanne can hear him smiling. "Hey, you are getting very close to something that does not belong to you."
Roxanne hooks a hand around his narrow waist and pulls herself to stand behind him, hands on his hips. "Mmm, yes it does, your ass is mine," she murmurs, and sets her teeth into the side of his neck without any warning. Megamind shudders and bites back a gasp, glancing up and meeting Roxanne's eyes in the mirror above the sink. Her pupils are dilated.
"O-on second thought," he says, with only the hint of a stammer, "perhaps we should go home."
She lets go of his neck, explores his ear for a few seconds. Ordinarily he'd close his eyes, but watching her do that in the mirror is…unexpectedly fascinating. He may need to look into this little mirror phenomenon further at some point. "Only if you want to," Roxanne says, running her hands up and down his sides. "You know, I was thinking of mixing it up a little bit, tonight."
He cocks an eyebrow, lifts one corner of his mouth into an interested smirk as his eyelids come down. "Oh ho? You've made plans?"
"Mmm-hmm. Did I ever."
"When on earth did you manage to do that?" he wants to know. "We've been pretty busy."
Roxanne smiles over the curve of his shoulder, flattens a hand on his lower stomach. "Oh, I came prepared." Megamind's eyes light, but other than that he's pretty good at keeping his intrigue contained. So she kisses the corner of his jaw, adds, "I thought, if you wouldn't mind giving up control for a while, maybe I could have some fun."
Both eyebrows go up, this time. "You? What about me? Don't I get to have fun?"
"Well, that would depend on whether your definition of 'fun' includes 'blindfolded, naked, and tied to a bed.'"
All of the blood runs out of his face and heads south. He makes a strangled choking sound. "I—it—"
Roxanne steps back, smirking now, herself. "So, we'll see, then."
He finds his voice as he turns to face her, lounging back against the sink, and his voice is low and rough. "You are evil indeed, Miss Ritchi."
"I learned from the best," she replies, with something that might be a smirk. Honestly, she's amazed she managed to say all that without tripping over her words or blushing too hard.
He cocks his hips, frowning and smiling as he shakes his head. "I'm awful at being quiet, though, you know that. Especially when we're trying new things."
Now she blushes. "Don't worry," she blurts, "I came prepared for that, too," and then she has to hurry out of the bathroom or risk shrieking with embarrassed laughter.
Megamind's sleeve is as clean as it's going to get so he blots at it with the hand towel, which is a dark brown and won't show any stains. Oh, well, he thinks, it was a nice shirt while it lasted. When he emerges from the bathroom, Roxanne is nowhere to be seen. That's all right. He's doing surprisingly well tonight even though she hasn't been with him for much of it. He's actually having fun.
Well, that depends—no, no, he's not thinking about that right now. If he does, then all he'll want to do is go home with Roxanne and find out exactly what she'd meant, and there's still just too much to do and think about.
Maybe some fresh air will help. He heads down to the basement of the split-level, thinking hopefully of the deck. Yolanda is packing up the karaoke machine in the corner. He hadn't noticed earlier but there's one of those singing fish things on the wall. Somebody must have taken the batteries out because the fish is—thankfully—silent. "Hey, bud, you okay?"
He nods at her and smiles. "I just can't do alcohol."
She grimaces. "That must suck."
He shrugs. "I don't know what I'm missing," he points out. And for once, he doesn't particularly want to know what he's missing.
"That's true, I suppose." She stands up, brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Well, I'm gonna head out—gotta go relieve the sitter. It's been great to meet you, it really has. I'm glad you could make it out tonight."
"I'm really happy I came, too," Megamind tells her. "You have a great group of people, here.
It's a shame I can't spend more time with you all."
"Aww, thanks! You're a love." She steps over to him, cell phone in hand. "Hey, I know you've probably been asked this a million times tonight, but would you mind taking a picture with me? Just so I can show my friends, you know?"
He nods and lets her step in close and put her face right next to his, and he smiles up at the cell phone while she snaps a photo. "Thanks," she says warmly, stepping away to see what the picture looks like. "You're wonderful."
"I am fantastic," he agrees for the seventh time, slightly shaken but hiding it. Was that okay? She doesn't seem to be flirting with him. Do some people just put their heads together for pictures? He's never seen that done before, and somehow it doesn't quite compute.
"Oh, that's awesome," she murmurs, looking down at the camera screen, then back up at him. She shows him the photo and he blinks at it. Okay, that makes sense, the heads together makes sense because holding the camera away and taking the picture herself limits what can fit into the frame. "You have to come back next year. You don't know how much you mean to half the people here. You really are an inspiration."
He manages a grin. "Drew told me. Frankly? I don't get it."
"You made it through, what's not to get?" She shakes her head. "You're living proof that no matter how bad life gets, if you just hang on long enough you can fight your way through by sheer endurance."
"It's what my Uncle Mitch told me," Megamind says with a shrug. "Kid, you just got to outlast it."
"Words to live by," she says. He's not completely sure what that means, but it sounds like a good thing so he nods like he knows. "Well, time for me to call it a night. You take care."
He turns towards the porch door. "Thanks," he replies, "you too. Drive safe," and then he finally is able to slide the door open and escape into the dark air, where he takes a long breath before blowing it out again in great gouts of steam. He half-smiles, remembers running around the prison yard puffing out steaming breaths in the wintertime, pretending he was a dragon. The best part was always flying with Uncle Bill, who would hold him by the ribs and raise him all the way over his head and run around the yard with him, roaring and sounding more like a real dragon than the little blue boy ever could.
In those days, anyway. Now that Megamind's vocal chords—or whatever he has that mimic vocal chords; he's never been certain—have matured, he can make a startling range of animal sounds.
I wonder what happened to Uncle Bill, he thinks, and then he nearly jumps out of his skin when somebody starts talking—but it's only Drew, and he's talking on his cell phone, leaving a message for somebody.
"Heyyy, you big lug, it's Drew. Ritchi. Just wanted to give you a call and say Happy Christmas, hope your mom's doing okay. Also I wanted to give you a heads-up, I dunno what all is gonna be in the papers tomorrow morning but Megs and my sister are officially in the public eye, I managed to drag him to a Christmas party with some of my friends and people've been taking pictures all night. Gimme a call back when you get this if you wanna talk, or you can text me or whatever, my number is…"
Megamind just tips his head back and breathes some more, enjoying the fresh air and relative quiet. After a moment, Drew hangs up and shoves his phone in his back pocket, then turns and leans his elbow on the railing.
Even with his eyes closed, Megamind can hear the other man's frown. "Isn't reserpine a medication for blood pressure?"
He must have found the note. Megamind opens his eyes and rolls his shoulders a little, trying to relax. "I don't know who you're making that drug for," he says, looking out over the backyard, "but it would work on me."
Drew is quiet. So that's why Megamind hadn't said anything in the car. Annie would have flipped. "Is everything okay?" he asks.
Megamind presses his lips together, an unconscious habit he picked up from Roxanne. "I don't know," he says eventually. "I don't—I don't know. I'm worried and I don't know why. Something is happening at home, something…I think somebody might be trying to take over the city?" He squints, shaking his head, and tries to focus. "Something is going to happen. Very soon. I don't know what but it's not going to be good." Three months of quiet listening and that's all he has to show for it: something's going to happen and it's not going to be good.
"That guy you were talking about with Mom?" Drew asks, trying to think of something that might help. "Sunset or something?"
Megamind looks completely distracted. "No, not him. He wouldn't see the point of doing something like that. I don't know who this is. There might be a group of them."
For once, Drew doesn't know how to respond. After a while, Megamind turns towards him, his eyebrows lowered and his forehead rumpled with worry lines. "Listen, if, if something…ever happened. To me. And Minion wasn't…wasn't there." He looks up, meeting Drew's eye for the first time that night. "You'd take the brainbots, wouldn't you? Roxanne has her favorites, but the others…" He shakes his head, shrugs helplessly. "There's thousands of them. They're easy to train but they need stimulation, and some of the software guys you have here, it would be easy for them to reverse-engineer the brainbots' programming and write new code for them."
"They'd be really helpful in the lab," Drew says slowly, utterly serious, and Megamind nods. "Yes, of course. Of course I'd take them." He couldn't keep all of them, but he knows he could at least make sure they went to good homes.
Megamind nods again, more to himself than Drew. "Good," he says quietly, and straightens, pulls his shoulders back and his head up. Some of the anxiety leaves his features, but not a lot. "Good. That's taken care of, then." His mouth smiles. His eyes don't. "Come on, let's go inside. I'm cold."
"Hang on," Drew says, and Megamind pauses, still looking blank. Now really starting to worry, Drew goes to stand in front of him and puts his hands on the narrow shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm okay," Megamind replies. "Think of who you're talking to. I'm always okay, I'm the king of okay."
Drew doesn't ask him if he's sure; he doesn't need to. "Sure," he says. "Yeah, sure you are. Come here."
Megamind blinks. Well, he's warmer now, that's something. What is this hoodie made of? he wonders distantly. It really is ridiculously soft. "You're hugging me?"
Drew's voice makes his bones hum. "Because you needed a hug."
"I don't think I needed a hug."
"That's because you're an idiot," Drew says kindly, resting his chin on the top of Megamind's head.
"Your beard is tickling my nose," Megamind observes, but makes no move to resolve the situation. Drew just hums in response, and a second later the acrid taste of ozone and cloves crawls into the back of Megamind's sinuses and camps there. It's possible Drew is able to affect him somewhat at close range like this; he can feel himself relaxing and that's not something that usually happens this easily or quickly. His whirling thoughts begin to slow, then settle.
After a minute or two, they fall into a comfortable holding pattern and he can keep track of them again. He stirs. Sniffs. Frowns.
Drew lets go and steps away—one thing he's very good at is telling when it's time to back off. "Better?" he asks.
It can't have been much longer than a minute or two, but Megamind feels like he's just woken up from a nap. "Better, yes," he says. "Thank you."
Drew grins at him. "It's what I do."
Megamind's expression twists with vague amusement. "What, make people relax?"
Drew shrugs. "Pretty much, yeah. One way or another. Did it work?" He cocks his head. "I mean, I dunno if you could tell but I was hitting you with everything I had. I think if I did that to anybody else they'd probably chill so hard they'd fall asleep."
Megamind snorts at that one. "No, yeah, I feel great. Feels like I just woke up."
"Good, that's good." Drew nods, looking pleased with himself. "Except now I want to pass out. A wide-radius crowd suppressant and then a concentrated attack on a naturally-resistant opponent? I'm gonna sleep for a year."
Megamind's mouth curls up and in at the corners. "Sleep? I thought you had plans?"
"Yeah, but that's—" He makes an inarticulate gesture with one hand. "They're good. Even tired sex is good with them."
Megamind pauses, confused and not wanting to make assumptions. "Um…is that 'they' in a gender-neutral sense, or 'they' as in you're very very lucky?"
"That would be 'they' as in 'our fantastic hosts,'" Drew says bluntly.
Megamind gapes at him for a moment, then smiles reluctantly. "Oh," he says. "Well…good. That's good. Congratulations? I'm happy for you."
Drew chuckles and turns to go inside. "Do your shoulders turn pink when you blush that hard?"
"I wouldn't know," Megamind says primly, following him in. "They're usually covered in spikes." He pulls the sliding door closed behind him, then heaves a sigh. "I…I think I'm going to go find Roxanne and see if she's ready to leave, then. I think I'm partied out."
Drew nods. "That's understandable. You may want to avoid the living room, then. Some people were hoping you'd show them some moves when you felt better."
"Moves?" Megamind echoes blankly.
"Self-defense. That thing with the finger was pretty neat."
"Oh." He thinks about it—does he want to give lessons? No, he decides. No, he's done with being around people for the rest of the night. Next time, he thinks, and the certain knowledge that he's found a place and a group of people who will welcome him back makes a warm, glad feeling curl under his breastbone. "No, I don't think so," he says aloud, "but I—I should go and say goodbye, right? And thank you?"
"That would be good, but you don't have to," Drew shrugs. "These people won't mind if you just disappear."
They might not, but he would, which is new. Usually he's all too happy to vanish for the night. "I'll go in," he decides. "I need to find Roxanne, anyway."
Drew pulls back a little and looks at him. "You surprise me," he says with a little grin. "I like you."
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Megamind is unusually quiet in the car on the way home. He has his seat back most of the way and his eyes are closed, but Roxanne is pretty sure he's still awake. She clears her throat, then says, "Hey hon, you doing okay? We stayed out later than I expected."
"Mmm," he responds without opening his eyes. "Mmm yes. Met a lot of new people. Made some friends."
"You had fun, then?" she asks, and Megamind hums again. "Because you don't look like you had fun." She glances over at him. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"I honestly think I might," Megamind admits, reaching up to rub his eyes. "That was a lot of people. A lot of emotions in one place even with the caffeine blockers. I'm a little overwhelmed."
She smiles into the darkness ahead. "You did great tonight."
"I did, didn't I?" He sounds very pleased with himself. Then he reaches over and pulls her right hand off the steering wheel, curls his long fingers around hers. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Everything." He rolls his head sideways and looks at her, studies the way her skin filters the bluish light cast by the faint LEDs backlighting the dashboard controls. The car's frame is antique, but he's updated its interior completely. And now there's Roxanne at the wheel. The woman he'd never expected to ever, ever be able to spend any time with outside of kidnappings is driving the two of them home in the quiet night, living with him, waking up with him, sharing a life with him. "Loving me."
She squeezes his hand, rubs her thumb across his knuckles. "Thank you."
He frowns a little, smiles a little. "What for?"
"For letting me. For being here. For being my partner." She pulls to a stop at a red light and looks sideways. "You're everything I ever wanted. I can't believe how lucky I am."
He smiles and sits up, leans over, and she puts her hand on the back of his head and pulls him in for a comfortable kiss before turning her attention back to the road. "I don't care what happens, Megamind. I wouldn't have missed you for the world."
Megamind looks out the window, up at the distant stars, and then he smiles and sends a sidelong glance over at her as the car starts moving again. "So…what was that you said earlier about having fun?"