"She found herself able to answer her question of 'why not' rather quickly. Why not? Because sitting across from Drew, eating (excessively delicious and perfectly spiced) pasta, felt like a date. Or at least, what she imagined a date might feel like. She'd never been on one, and sappy movies annoyed her to no end so she couldn't say for sure, but it certainly seemed like one."

Grease dripped down her fingers, the cheese burned her tongue, and even one slice of pizza made her stomach hurt after so many years without such greasy foods. It was the best meal she'd ever had.

Even though she felt like she devoured her slice, Drew somehow managed to finish before her.

"I've been thinking," he said, staring down at the table.

"Hm?"

"If you," he hesitated, and started tapping his fingers on the table. "If you wanted to stay, for a little while longer, you can. I don't have an awful lot of money, but… well. I mean, I think it's better than being on the streets, right? So if you wanted to, you can stay and… Editing my work could be your way of repaying me, I suppose."

Shea held back a sigh of relief. At least now she didn't have to ask him. "Yeah. Better than being on the streets," she agreed awkwardly. "Um. Thanks, Drew."

"We should… I get paid on Monday, and we'll have to get groceries, but we can put whatever's leftover towards getting you some new clothes. Sorry, you'll have to wait another day."

She just nodded, uncomfortable with being taken care of after so much time spent trying to act independent, and they lapsed into a long silence, not awkward but not comfortable either, until they made it back to Drew's apartment.

She sat down on the chair to begin reading her books, while he disappeared into his bedroom. As she started on the second chapter he returned, standing in front of her. Though part of her noticed him, she didn't actually look up until he cleared his throat.

"For you," he said, passing over a set of keys. "They're my spare set. This one is to the building, and this is to the apartment itself. Since you're staying here and all now."

"Do I still have to answer questions to get food?"

He smirked. "Maybe sometimes."

"I'm not telling you my last name."

"Well, what's your middle name, then?"

"Marie," she said with a shrug. Her middle name held no attachment to Shego.

"Oh." He looked surprised that she actually answered.

"What's yours?"

He quickly shook his head. "No way."

"Is that because your middle name is embarrassing or because I won't tell you my last name?"

"One and one."

"What does that mean?"

"I've got two middle names, one of which is embarrassing, the other I won't tell you until I know your last name."

"Fair enough."

Drew nodded and sat down on the couch to resume grading papers. They sat in amicable silence, save for the scratching of Drew's pen, and the turning of pages in Shea's book. Occasionally Drew interrupted her reading to ask her to write a word down for him, or check his spelling. That kind of thing from her brothers would have driven her crazy, but for some reason it didn't bother her at all, coming from him. Maybe because helping him meant she was allowed to stay with him.

After several hours of this, Shea finished her book. She saw the ending coming but in a sort of way that made her feel proud of being clever, rather than annoyed that things were too obvious. She glanced over towards Drew, who she hadn't realized had stopped writing. He clutched his head between his hands, his glasses abandoned on the table.

"You okay?"

"Mmph. Headache."

"Is that from reading too much?" He nodded, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "When do you need those graded by?"

"Ideally tomorrow, so I have time to get everything in the grade book before class."

"How many do you have left?"

"Five." He picked up the stack shuffling the pages between his fingers as they fell back to the table. "Maybe six."

"Do you want me to help you? Or do you want to finish them later?"

He finally peeled his hands away from his eyes and placed his glasses back on. "I'll finish them later." He stood up from the couch and stretched, his back and neck audibly popping. "How's your book?"

"It was good."

He blinked at her. "You finished it already?"

Shea shrugged. "I'm a fast reader. What are you gonna do now?"

"Make dinner. You don't have any allergies or anything do you?" She shook her head and he asked, "How do you feel about pesto pasta?"

"Sounds good to me. Do you… I mean, I'm a terrible cook, but if you want help, I'll help you."

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. I like to cook."

"You really are such a mom."

"Whatever. At least I'm not green."

"Hey!" Shea shouted after him, trying not to laugh as he escaped behind the counter and into the kitchen. He kept his head down, but she could see him snickering. With great difficulty, she ignored the impulse to throw a plasma ball at him. "It's rude to make fun of the way people look, Drew!"

Ignoring her, he called back, "how are you with spice?"

She rolled her eyes and settled back down in her chair. "The hotter the better." She plucked the next book off her pile and opened it. Though she started off with the intention of actually reading, she ended up watching Drew cook, instead.

Just like earlier that morning, she noticed that he moved as if ready to start dancing. His whole body seemed to sway, constantly. It was actually kind of nice to watch, soothing in some odd way- like a lava lamp. Part of her felt like turning on some music and getting him to really dance. She ignored that thought and listened as he hummed some song that she didn't recognize under his breath, bobbing his head along with the tune.

"What is that?" she asked, after trying unsuccessfully to place the tune.

"Oh- it's um. It's Fancy-Free. You know, from the movie. D'you like chicken?"

"I didn't see it. And yeah, chickens fine."

"How could you have missed it? It's incredible!"

"I like horror movies better." Drew visibly cringed, and she failed to hold back a laugh. "What? Don't tell me they scare you!"

"I just don't like blood is all." He sounded like he might be sick just thinking about it. "I'm not scared."

"So demons and ghosts and monsters? That stuff's fine?"

"I- I guess. I don't- I guess it's fine," he stammered, sounding more and more nervous with each word. He dropped two well-seasoned pieces of chicken onto a grill pan on the stove. They sizzled, causing Drew to smile ever so slightly.

"Cool," Shea said, not bothering to hold back a smirk. "Next time we go to the library we should rent a horror movie, something good and creepy like The Exorciser."

The last bits of color drained out of Drew's face, as he gave her a stare like a deer caught in headlights. She felt a laugh bubbling in her throat as she stared back, and forced it down. She needed to see how he would react to her challenging him like this. Well, she didn't need to, technically, but she sure wanted to.

"Erm- you know, I've got plenty of other movies. We could always watch those."

She nodded. "Well, yeah, obviously. I still want to watch The Exorciser, sometime soon."

He grumbled out a number of incoherent sounds, before snapping his jaw shut and turning back to his cooking just in time to stop the water from boiling over.

"Okay, next time we can get it," he mumbled, while he scooped the pasta into two separate bowls. When he finished cutting up the chicken and adding it to the bowls, she jumped up to take her place on the counter. "Did you- we can eat at the table, if you'd prefer."

"Sure, why not?" Shea slid back off the counter, took her bowl from his hands and followed him to the small square table at the opposite end of the kitchen. She found herself able to answer her question of 'why not' rather quickly. Why not? Because sitting across from Drew, eating (excessively delicious and perfectly spiced) pasta, felt like a date. Or at least, what she imagined a date might feel like. She'd never been on one, and sappy movies annoyed her to no end so she couldn't say for sure, but it certainly seemed like one.

To say the least, she finally, actually, felt a little awkward. For his part, Drew didn't seem to notice. "Good?" he asked after a few long silent moments spent shoveling food into their mouths.

"Yeah. Really good. Where'd you-" Shea cleared her throat and tried again, "where'd you learn to cook?"

"My mother. Well, in a way."

"What does that mean?"

"First promise that if you ever meet my mother you'll never tell her what I'm about to tell you." He held his hand out to her, pinky extended like a child making a schoolyard promise not to tell the teacher she did something bad. She rolled her eyes but linked her pinky with his anyway. He leaned across the table, and, as if he were telling her his most sacred secret, whispered, "she's a terrible cook. I mean, her food is unedible."

"Inedible," she corrected.

His shoulders slumped and he glared at her for a moment before shrugging. "Whatever. My point is, she can't cook. But I've always liked food, so I started offering to help. And I started experimenting. And I suppose since cooking is just chemistry, I took to it rather quickly. Within a few weeks, I had essentially taken over in the kitchen, and continued to be the primary chef in the household until I first left for college." A distant, dreamy sort of smile took over his face. "My mother insists she's a good cook, but she's always rather pleased to have me take over when I go home."

"My mom used to try and get me to help when she made dinners, but every time I did something went wrong. Once everyone got food poisoning, and we never knew why because we literally just made veggie fried rice. How old were you when you started cooking?"

"Bad veggies, maybe. And I suppose I was about…" Drew's voice trailed off as he thought. Under his breath, quiet enough that she wasn't sure how she heard him, he muttered, "Dad was still around, so…" Then louder, "I must have been around seven or eight when I actually took over in the kitchen."

"Seriously? You were cooking on your own when you were that little?"

He nodded. "It's a wonder my mother ever let me. She and my father bickered for weeks about the dangers of removing the training wheels from my bicycle." Laughing he added, "you can imagine their surprise when my father finally took them off, and I rode perfectly fine. I'd been sneaking off to ride my cousins' bike long before the argument even began."

She started laughing herself, as she told him, "Merrick, my younger older brother, learned to ride his bike after I did. I was a pretty stubborn kid so I just kinda taught myself one day. The next day he practically begged me to teach him. We lived on a hill, so I took him to the top of the street, promised I'd walk him down slowly the first time, and then I pushed him. He went crying to our parents once he reached the bottom, despite the fact that he figured out how to ride the bike on his way down. He didn't have so much as a scratch to show off, he just likes attention."

"That's evil," Drew gasped out between laughs. Something in her brain twitched at that. How odd, to be called evil after so many years of literally being a superhero. Even more odd, was the fact that the way he said it made her feel sort of proud. "I mean, that's like Evil Enchantress from the East levels of evil."

"Is that a jab at the green skin thing?"

He grinned at her, and she realized the awkwardness she'd felt when they first started eating had completely faded. "Not intentionally, though I suppose it fits."

She flicked a piece of chicken at him. "Shut up."

"Hey! You got pesto on my glasses," he protested. His face fell into a pout as he pulled the glasses off his face to wipe them clean.

"Evil Enchantress from the East is from The Warlock of Zo, right?"

"Don't tell me you've never seen that either!"

"I did when I was a kid!"

"You still are a kid!"

"I'm sixteen!"

"I was in college at your age, but I was still a kid."

She groaned. "Yeah, yeah, the super-genius was in college at fifteen. You're five years older than me, Lipsky. At least I'm not afraid of a little bit of blood."

The lingering smirk fell away from his lips, as his face flushed. "At least my cooking's never given anyone food poisoning," he countered, meekly.

"Okay, okay. Point to you. I was right though, right? It is Warlock of Zo?"

"Yes. I think I have a copy, actually."

"So, you don't count yourself as a kid anymore, yeah?"

"Well, no. Besides, by legal definitions, I am actually an adult, unlike you."

"Then what's with the kids' movies, huh? You're an adult living on your own, watching The Warlock of Zo?"

"It's a good movie," he yelped, his voice squeaking awkwardly. He cleared his throat, and continued in a more normal tone, "besides, it's nostalgic."

She sighed to disguise her laugh, and in an attempt to drown out the thoughts of how cute he was when he got flustered. "You're a weird guy, Drew."

"Nygh! Says the girl who catches on fire!"

She held one burning hand up in a half-shrug. "Yeah, so I got freaky glowing hands. What're you gonna do?" She let the flame die, and went to take another bite of her dinner, only to find that she'd already eaten every bite. "Weird or not, I gotta say you're a damn good cook."

"Oh, well, yes. Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it." Watching him blush again, Shea started to suspect that he was as unused to being complimented as she was. For all intents and purposes, creepy old men tracking the number of days that went by before they could technically legally have sex with her did not count as a compliment.

Ignoring her thoughts, she suddenly found herself asking, "what happened to your dad?" Even as the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back, or that her brain had at least given her some sort of chance to think through the words before she spoke.

"Oh." Drew glanced down at the table, lacing his fingers together. "I'd rather not talk about all that, actually. Maybe… maybe at some point, but just… not right now."

"Okay, yeah. That's um… that's fine." Instantly two conclusions came to mind. Either he never liked his father, words like abuse came quickly to mind, or something tragic had happened, that Drew didn't want to talk about with her. "If you- if you ever change your mind, I guess." She didn't finish her sentence, but he nodded anyway.

"Thank you. It's just… it's a lot to explain, really. And I don't usually prefer to."

"Have you ever gone to therapy?" Again, she hated herself for talking. It took all her willpower not to literally slap a hand over her mouth.

Thankfully, he just laughed. "I cook with pots and pans that I took from students planning on throwing them away at the end of each year and I can't even afford to buy clothes that actually fit properly. I certainly can't afford a therapist, whether it may help me or not."

"Fair point." Desperate to change the subject before she embarrassed herself any further she said, "Um, I can do the dishes, I guess. Since you cooked. If you want."

"That seems fair enough. You just have to rinse the pot and the bowls out, but otherwise, everything can go into the dishwasher."

She stood up, nodding at his instructions, and took both their bowls back into the kitchen. From the corner of her eye, she watched him stand up and walk back into the living room.

"Do you, um… Would you like to watch a movie?"

She did, actually, desperately. Some part of her screamed that this was exactly how the night needed to go. Nonetheless, she responded, "got anything better than kid stuff?"

"Ny- gah, zip it! We could watch Fancy-Free since you've never seen it."

She stuffed the grill pan into the dishwasher and turned around to face him. "It sounds so boring though."

"Aw c'mon, Shea! It's really good!"

"Let's strike a deal."

Immediately he looked suspicious and worried. "What kind of a deal?" he asked. She could see him shrinking in on himself, his shoulders slumping, his arms wrapping around his chest.

"If I watch this with you tonight, you actually have to watch The Exorciser with me, when we get it. You can't just leave me to watch it on my own."

"You're not scared of watching it on your own, are you?" She could tell that he was trying to tease her, but his voice came out so small that she couldn't even bother to pretend to take his mocking seriously.

"Course not. I just think watching you act like a baby about will be funny."

"You're really such a pest," he groaned. "Alright, fine. Deal. Since I know you'd make me watch it either way."

"True."

When he stood up to set up the movie, she stole his seat on the couch, not knowing why she felt inclined to do so. She watched him as he scanned the shelves full of movies, part of her secretly hoping he wouldn't find it, the other part of her sincerely worried that he wouldn't. Eventually, he did find it, and he practically bounced with excitement as he turned it on.

When he finally turned back around he took a startled step back upon seeing her in his spot. "I was sitting there," he pointed out.

"Didn't call dibs."

"What?"

Gah, he was such an only child. "You didn't call dibs," she said with a shrug. "Seats open to anyone if you don't call dibs."

"Pest."

"Dork."

"Oh, just shush and watch the movie, will you?" She snickered but nodded. He hesitated for a moment with his hand hovering over the light switch. "Is it alright if I turn the lights off?"

"All movies are better in the dark. Especially the boring ones, so you can fall asleep."

"Ngh- I'd keep them on if you weren't right that movies are better in the dark."

He sat down again, not on the chair like she'd half expected, but on the other side of the couch. Though it had been true throughout most of the time they'd spent together, Shea had a moment of clarity in which she realized that he was close enough for her to touch. And not just touch as in 'she could reach him' but touch as in 'if she leaned in a little she could rest her head on his shoulder, or grab a hold of his hand'. She hated how much she wanted to do that, and hated, even more, the fact that she knew she probably wouldn't.

She yelled at her mind to just shut up, as the movie started. Immediately she recognized the opening song as the one Drew had been humming. And immediately, he began singing along. She couldn't help but smile as she watched him happily bopping along to the music. And actually, he had a fairly decent voice.

There were two things she'd hated about the movie, Shea realized as the end credits began to scroll across the screen. The first was that, despite her trying not to think about it, she was still very aware of the empty space between herself and Drew.

The second issue was even worse. "Damn it," she sighed, as he turned to face her, a stupid grin on his face. "You were right," she confessed before he even had the chance to ask. "I liked it."

"I told you so," he laughed, the stupid grin growing even wider. "I told you it's a good movie. And you thought you'd fall asleep."

Just to alleviate some of the desire to touch him that her body seemed to feel, she reached over and pushed his shoulder, enough to jostle him without hurting. "Yeah, yeah. Don't go getting all giddy on me. The Exorciser is still gonna be better."

And just like that, the smile vanished. "Well, um, we'll… we'll find out, I suppose."

She shook her head. "Nah, I already know it's better."

"I don't believe you, but a deal's a deal. At least we have to wait a while to get it," he added under his breath.

"Or we could go back tomorrow. After all, you only have a few tests left to grade." She'd been joking, but when his gaze shot to hers, all wild and frightened, she realized that it was more fun to make him think she was serious.

"No," he quickly burst out. "No, I'm sure there was something else I had to do. I mean, yes, I have to finish grading the tests. And then I have to put all the grades into the grade book. Of course, I've got my own homework to do as well. And now that I'm cooking for two instead of one, that's going to take more time. I'll have to make up a meal plan for the week, too, so that I know what to get at the grocery store tomorrow, and-"

She held a hand up, and his rambling stopped. "Sounds to me like we'll have plenty of time to swing by the library."

"Nygh, no. No, we definitely won't."

"Grading and homework will go by a lot faster now that I'm here to help. You'll be done before you know it." She tried, and she was fairly certain failed, to suppress a grin at his growing panic.

"But-but-but," he stammered, seeming unable to get any further. He wiped his palms off on his jeans. As she had earlier that morning she snapped his suspenders against his chest. "Ow! Would you quit doing that?"

"Hey, it worked."

"Worked to do what?" Drew demanded, rubbing at his chest. "Hurt?"

"Worked to make you remember how to talk," she said, laughing. It took him a moment, but he laughed a bit, too. "Really though, if we have the time to pick it up, wouldn't you rather just get it over with?"

"Erm… fine," he groaned. "I guess you're right."

"I almost always am."

"You weren't right about Fancy-Free."

"I said almost always!"

He nodded slowly, and yawned, popping his jaw. He glanced at the clock, which Shea saw read well past midnight, then screwed his eyes shut, and leaned backward, just enough to rest his head against the back of the couch.

"I'm tired," he said, without any real emotion behind the statement.

"Baby."

"Pest."

"Dork."

He lazily grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it with almost no force behind the swing. "Runaway brat."

She laughed, pushing the pillow back away from herself, and mimicked him, leaning her head back against the couch. She found that she felt pretty tired too, all of a sudden. Once her eyes were shut, she didn't really want to open them again.

"We should probably go to bed," she murmured.

"Mm-hmm."

Neither one of them moved. After another minute or so of silence, she managed to pry one eye open to see that his head had fallen forward, his chin resting against his chest. His glasses dangled precariously off the end of his nose, threatening to fall off at any moment.

"Drew?" she whispered. He didn't respond, so she poked his arm. He, again, didn't respond, but a moment later she heard a soft snore. She yawned, and already defending the choice to herself, she gently pried the glasses off his face and placed them neatly on the table. Just so they wouldn't fall and break, she told herself.

She meant to stand up. She really did. But a minute passed, and she didn't move. Another minute passed, and her head practically fell back against the couch again. Not even another minute passed and Shea heard Drew murmur something incomprehensible in his sleep before she drifted off beside him.