Minion's love language is food, fight me.
also, OH BOY, I BET THIS WILL END WELL
CHAPTER 9
Sweet Adeline, Part 2 - Avi Kaplan
Today is not a good day.
Everything is going wrong. And not even in some big way that Megamind could feel really cathartically upset about; it's all just horrible little things. The zipper on his most comfortable set of leathers is broken, for no apparent reason. He tore the buckle off of one of his gloves. To help himself feel better, he went to go get the last of the Froot Loops in his favorite bowl—and he dropped it on the floor and now there are no more Froot Loops and his favorite bowl is in two pieces and there is going to be a milk-stain on Minion's good tablecloth. Minion will be able to get the mark out, no problem, but Megamind will still be able to smell the milk on the lace for the next two months. Megamind does not like milk-smell.
And then he went to go and brainstorm and nothing caught him. Nothing. He has ideas, but they are all boring and he hates them. It's been ages since he's had anything really big and showy.
He glances over the short list he's managed to come up with. Hmmm. Battlesuit with a giant claw sounds good. Or, it should sound good. Megamind is pretty sure he should be all about a battlesuit with a giant claw.
But it just feels…flat. Most things have, lately.
And to top it all off, rain is coming, which means Megamind's hip keeps twinging. It's not even that painful, it's just annoying. He really needs to replace the damned thing; it's only a matter of time before it trips him up during a fight and gets him killed. But he doesn't actually want to replace it, because that will hurt, because anesthesia only sort of works for Megamind and every time he starts trying to think about developing an alternative he winds up feeling sick and panicky because—because of reasons—
—and then of course he was thinking about it, so of course he couldn't think about anything else for a while, so he went down to the reef pool to go hide under the water and soothe himself with the pressure and the corals and the clicks of the fish around him…only to remember that he's still in freshwater mode. And if he breathes saltwater like this without returning to equilibrium in freshwater afterwards, he will hurt himself.
So he thought, well, maybe Lake Michigan. But everything in him rebelled against that because what he wants is to be back on Star Lake with Roxanne and her family, weeks ago—and that is a useless-pointless-stupid thing to want; the science is impossible—
—and then he went back to bed because everything was terrible.
The shrieking jingle of his cell phone makes him jump awake with a shout a few hours later. What? What? What is—what's—
He scrabbles around for the little black rectangle, knocks it off his nightstand, and falls out of bed trying to catch it. Well done, Megamind. He is the epitome of grace and beauty.
The phone stops ringing before he can fish it out from under his bed, so he checks his call logs, and—
Oh. That's. That's Rose's phone number. Why would Rose be calling him?
A pang of fear runs through him. Roxanne. Something has happened to Roxanne—
—No, no. Rose wouldn't call him about that. Why would Rose call him about that.
He hits redial and Rose answers on the second ring. "Megamind, hey," she says, before he can issue any kind of greeting or ask why she called. She sounds frazzled. "I need you to kidnap my baby again."
He blinks. Perks up a little. "What?"
She laughs, still sounding very out of it. "Yeah, sorry, I thought that would be funny but I guess—look, Annie just got called out on a last-minute thing so she can't babysit, and our other usual sitter isn't picking up her phone, and I have to go to work, so—so I was wondering if Derya could maybe spend the evening with you, if you aren't busy? I have a night shift tonight and Salim's on-site and won't get off work for another four hours, so—"
"Of course," Megamind says, standing up and dusting himself off and striding out of his bedroom. "Of course, yes, absolutely. Do you need me to come pick her up?"
"That would be excellent," she says, sounding very relieved. "Can you be here soon?"
"Absolutely," Megamind says again, catching the keys one of the brainbots drops for him. "Yes. Ten minutes."
"Thanks," Rose says, and hangs up.
It does not occur to Megamind to think about how supremely bizarre this whole situation actually is until he turns left into Rose and Salim's neighborhood. He's—he's Megamind; he's the city's supervillain—and he's being called upon to babysit? What?
And Rose was not happy with him the last time Derya wound up in Evil Lair. Megamind has been operating under the regretful assumption that that would, in fact, be the only time he would ever see Derya on his own turf. But now Rose is asking him to come and take Derya for a while, and this is…Megamind isn't sure what this is, but he is excited about it. This is good! This is exciting.
Also scary. Evil Lair is still very much not designed for babies.
He pulls up in front of Rose and Salim's row home and into a serendipitous parking space, puts his blinkers on, then hops out and jogs up to the door. He's in his leathers; he didn't even think to get into regular clothes until he was on the road; he can't afford to have anyone call the cops on him like this. But he isn't wearing his shoulder array or his gloves. Hopefully that will count for something.
Rose lets him in as soon as he knocks. "Hey," she says, relief warm in her voice, "hey, holy granola, thank you so much for coming."
"Don't thank me," Megamind says flatly, irritation flaring, but Rose just rolls right on past that.
"She just woke up from her nap, so I think if you feed her when you get home that will establish some familiarity. Here's her bag—oh, actually, the twins can take that—Phobos, Deimos—yes, good! you're both so good—and I'll get the car seat and you carry Derya—"
Which is how Megamind winds up standing on the sidewalk holding a baby upright against his shoulder while the child's mother straps the car seat into the back of the invisible car. The twins are already whirring contentedly in the front passenger seat.
"Okay, let me take her," Rose says, turning, and Megamind passes her off so she can go into the car seat. "Yes," Rose says, her tone bright and cheerful as she buckles Derya in. "Yes, you're going to visit with Uncle Megamind! You get to go see Uncle Megamind! Megamind, thanks again," she adds over her shoulder as she gently pries Derya's hands away from her long hair. "I am so sorry about the short notice. She'll settle down soon, it's just some separation anxiety." Derya has begun to cry. "Annie's probably told you."
"Oh, yes, it's not a problem," he replies, still sort of amazed this is happening and reeling so hard at Uncle Megamind that he entirely forgets to be upset at the implication that any of his actions might be in any way worthy of gratitude. "And—anytime. I am happy to take her anytime; she's a joy, truly."
Rose straightens, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder. "Okay! Her things are in the bag, the book with her routines is on top. Text or call if there's an emergency, but I think you should be fine! Hey," she adds, putting a hand on his thin shoulder and pulling him into a quick hug. "Don't look so scared. You'll do great. She loves you."
Petrified despite her reassurance, he nods. Most of what Megamind does ends in horrible failure. Horrible failure applied to babies generally means bad things for babies. But. He can do this! He can do this. He babysat for her before, a little, and it went okay.
His day is looking up, finally.
Uncle Megamind, he thinks as he climbs into the car and drives away at exactly the speed limit, using his turn signals and obeying all posted signage. Uncle Megamind.
If his eyes get a little bit misty about it, if he has to wipe his face on the back of his hand as he drives, well…no one is around to see.
He can do this. He can totally do this.
"I can't do this," he cries at Minion, two hours later. Derya is wailing on his shoulder. Megamind has tried feeding her, changing her, giving her water. Giving her her nook, which is just dangling from its clip on her shirt. "I can't do this! I know how she cries and this is new, she isn't crying about anything I know what to do with, I—I tried everything anyway and I just don't know what's wrong!"
Minion nods at him sympathetically as he finishes dialing, then turns away a little.
"—Yes, good evening, Warden, this is Minion calling, how are you? —Yes, it's a baby, she—of course not, ha ha, just babysitting for, um, for a, a friend? Only she's crying kind of a lot and it's not a cry we've heard before; I know this is terribly irregular but if we could please speak to Uncle Mitch or Uncle Guduza…?
"The infirmary? What happened, is he okay?
"Oh, oh that's good, thank goodness. Yes, I'll tell him, thank you for letting me know. Yes, you too. Give him our love.
"Hi, Uncle Mitch, it's Minion! Oh, I'm fine, but I…yes, that's a baby. Miss Ritchi's niece. She won't stop crying and we aren't sure why, we've tried everything we can think of and she won't stop, so we hoped maybe you would… No, she doesn't have a fever…oh, I'm not sure. I'll ask, hang on—" He turns to Megamind, who's still bouncing Derya on his shoulder despite her high-pitched wailing. "How old is she?"
"Seven months," says Megamind. "Shh. Corazoncita, estrellita, baby, it's okay. Derya, mi vida, sweetheart, you're okay, shhh."
Minion relays this information, then pauses. "Oh!" He moves, tilts himself in his dome to peer at Derya's face. "No, not that I can see. Really? Really, oh that's interesting. Okay! And what can we…? Okay. Yes. Thank you, we will definitely give that a try!"
He ends the call and turns to Megamind. "She's teething," he says, sounding immensely relieved. "It's a pain-cry; she's in pain, Sir. That's why none of the distractions are working. It's nothing to do with you. Uncle Mitch says lots of cuddles, and massaging her gums with something cool should help—he suggested a damp chilled rag. Or your hands might be cold enough, Sir."
Megamind's bewildered, frantic expression clears and goes tentatively hopeful. "Oh! That's—was he sure? That's what this is?"
"He said seven months and inconsolable crying would be teething nine times out of ten, Sir."
Megamind breathes a sigh of relief, patting Derya gently with a long hand. "Is that what's wrong?" he hums at her, sitting her back a little in his arms. She blinks at him, hiccupping, her little face flushed and blotchy and very wet. "Are your poor teeth hurting you? Okay," he soothes as she flops onto his shoulder again and resumes crying, "okay. We'll see. Off to the kitchen we go, my love, off we go, come on…"
The gum massage does work pretty well. Derya seems appreciative, at least, leaning miserably on Megamind's chest while he rubs his cool fingertips in small circles over the skin of her gums and sings at her low in his syrinx. It seemed to help her fall asleep, at Roxanne's apartment, when he met her, and it soothed her when Roxanne was sick—it can't hurt now, can it?
"I can feel the teeth, Minion," he says, crooning deep in his subvoice. "I can feel them under her skin; they're awfully sharp. We could make something cold for her to chew—I'll see what I can put together tomorrow; I think I still have some of the blue silicone left from my spare arm…"
Minion straightens from where he's been digging in Derya's diaper bag. "I think that's probably what this is," he says, holding up a pinkish, floppy ring with little alligators printed all over it. "I think it's supposed to go in the refrigerator."
"Hmm. Can't hurt to try," Megamind says. "Could we maybe put her nook in the fridge as well?"
"Worth a shot," Minion says. "That does seem to be helping, Sir; I'm glad."
"What a mess," Megamind hums at Derya, as Minion puts the things away to chill. "What a mess, having no teeth and then having them push through your poor gums like this! I remember, now. Poor design planning on somebody's part. Yes, I know. I know. Let's go see the brainbots, hmm? Do you want to go see the brainbots in their hive? I bet they would love to show off some battle drills for you. Let's go see."
Megamind is extremely nervous about the prospect of ferrying Derya back home. Driving back to Evil Lair with her in the back seat was an exercise in anxiety. What if he hit something? What if someone hit them? What if the car broke down? What if the police tried to stop them? What if—
Anyway, by the time he arrived at Evil Lair with her, he was a nervous wreck and he already knew he did not want to drive her home and he put his foot down about Minion doing it. But both he and Minion are understandably wary of allowing Rose or Salim anywhere near Evil Lair.
They have. A conversation. Because it would make sense to ask Roxanne to pick Derya up, yes? Roxanne could come and pick up her niece when she's done with work. That sounds like a normal thing normal people might do.
But Roxanne would need a car. And, more importantly, Roxanne would need to know where Evil Lair is.
Megamind is so thoroughly out of his depth with this completely unexpected turn his life is taking that he says, Sure. Why not. Let Miss Ritchi into Evil Lair. He and Minion are working with her schedule; they're looking after a tiny and extremely vulnerable member of her family; she's not a pawn, anymore. She's something else. A friend. Might as well bring her in on the take, so to speak.
Minion is…hesitant.
It's not that he doesn't want to. It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone else around more. It would be nice to have a friend. He's surprised, in fact, at how badly he wants to just give in and agree to this and not worry about it. Miss Ritchi has never thrown Megamind to the wolves, even in the early days of their interactions with her. Even when she was still visibly and vocally unsettled at waking up in Evil Lair. And she has always seemed to enjoy talking with Minion, even in the beginning when she was still snapping at Megamind. But…
Well, he could agree to this and worry about it, couldn't he? He probably doesn't have to worry, but he can. He will, anyway, even if he thinks he probably doesn't have to.
Finally Megamind says, "Minion, look, of all the many many many things that might end with me dead, I really doubt telling Miss Ritchi where we live is one of them." And, yeah. He has a point. Besides, even if their location does get out, it isn't as though he and Megamind can't defend it. They do live with an army of semi-autonomous, highly-intelligent, razor-sharp drones, after all.
Okay.
Okay, if Megamind trusts Miss Ritchi this much, then Minion will figure it out. He wants to, anyway, and it's not like his life can get any weirder.
Roxanne sounds startled when Minion calls to ask (after he and Megamind finally get Derya settled with Megamind massaging her gums), but she's agreeable to the idea. And evidently, she's done something like this before, because she immediately explains that it's no trouble at all: Salim can pick her up on his way home, drive them both to his and Rose's house, and then Roxanne can borrow his car to come and get Derya.
Minion is so relieved that this is, in fact, a reasonable arrangement that he invites her to stay for dinner without even thinking about it. He blinks at himself a little as he hangs up the phone, but it's not a problem. He has plenty of time to run out and get extra supplies.
It's nothing against you, Roxanne texts Salim, when she finishes explaining the plan to him. They're just very careful. I've known them for going on nine years now and this will be my first time going to Evil Lair under my own steam. I'm usually either blindfolded or unconscious.
Hey, I totally get it, he replies. Don't worry, you can tell them I'm not offended :)
Minion hurries out to meet her as she parks next to what looks like a long-abandoned, decrepit power plant, its walls littered with graffiti. Including, Roxanne notes with some amusement, the words GO AWAY NO ONE LIVES HERE.
He's carrying something like a large, shimmery blanket that hurts to look at in his arms. "Here," he says, as she climbs out of the car and locks it behind her, "help me throw this over top."
It's a cloaking sheet, Roxanne discovers, as they drag the fabric up over the roof. To hide the car from view, so nobody wonders what it's doing parked out there. It's an impressive piece of technology, and completely unsurprising that Minion—who Roxanne knows is absolutely the careful one in his and Megamind's partnership—would think of it.
So the doormat reading SECRIT ENTRANCE throws her for a loop.
"Seems a little conspicuous, don't you think?" she asks, grinning quizzically up at him. Minion's fins tilt at an angle that Roxanne has learned indicates embarrassment, over the years—if he could blush, he would probably be doing so.
"I keep forgetting where it is," he admits, ushering her through the hologram and sealing the door behind them. "He keeps moving it. But I'm hoping anyone who notices will think it's just a joke, considering the graffiti."
Roxanne laughs. "So, how did it go?" she asks. "I am so sorry you guys had to step in last-minute."
Minion hums. "It…it did go well. Overall." He leads her through the main level of the lair, high-ceilinged and choked to bursting with the remains of old plots. "We had a bit of a rough start, with the teething. I ended up calling our uncle Mitch for advice and he was able to help sort it out."
"Uncle Mitch?" She glances up at him, remembering what Megamind said about his family. The name rings a bell. "One of the inmates…?"
"At the prison, yes. Mitch and his cellmate Guduza did the bulk of raising us."
Ah, yes! That was the other name. So he basically called his dads, then; that's sweet. "I've done that a couple times," Roxanne says, smiling. "Back when I was babysitting as a teenager, sometimes I would run into problems and have to call my mom or Paul. Someone with more experience."
Minion nods. "Yes. Where there's a will, there's a way, but sometimes the way involves outside counsel.
"Sir took her to see the brainbots earlier, after she calmed down, but I think after that he probably would have come in here to—oh. Um."
Minion stops walking, and Roxanne peers around him. "Awww."
Megamind's high-backed chair is fully tipped back, surrounded by dehydrated cubes. The de-gun is in Megamind's hand, trailing nearly to the floor, and Derya is bundled up warm in her cozy blanket on his chest. Megamind's other hand is splayed over her back. Both of them are out cold.
"He was so focused," Minion says in a low voice. "I haven't seen his attention so undivided on something extracurricular in years. Can I offer you some tea while I get dinner ready? We have a lovely orange clove blend I think you'll like."
"Right after I take a picture," Roxanne says, tugging out her cell phone. She's half-expecting Minion to stop her, but he just waits while she grabs a shot of the pair. "That's adorable. Anyway, yes! Orange and clove tea sounds perfect. Thank you, Minion."
He smiles. "Right this way."
"And you're sure it wasn't too much trouble," Roxanne says, as Minion bustles back and forth across the kitchen.
"Oh, not at all," he replies. "No, of course not. It was nice to see her again! I'm not quite as, ah, as baby-oriented as Sir is, but my people looked after their young the same as his did. We spawned, of course, so parentage wasn't as much of a factor, it was all very much a community effort, but. It's nice to have a little one around every now and then."
Roxanne cocks her head. "Baby-oriented," she says. "That's a good way to put it. I really wouldn't have expected him to be so…well, nurturing?"
"Neither would I." Minion laughs. "This is the most cheerful and open I've seen him in a long time. He pushes himself, you know. He knows who he is, what part he plays in all this, but it's…well. It can still be a bitter pill to take, sometimes."
Megamind does have feelings about his part to play, and Roxanne's part as well, she knows that for sure. He is constantly complaining about her refusal to play the damsel—or, he used to complain. He's mostly stopped, in recent months. "Does he want…kids, do you think?" she asks. "Of his own?"
"Oh I very much doubt it," Minion says. "He would have cloned himself ages ago, if he did." He slides a tray into the oven, then turns and tips himself sideways in his dome. "What about you, Miss Ritchi?"
She laughs. "I've…always felt pretty ambivalent," she says. "With the right person, maybe. But only if they really wanted kids."
Minion tips himself the other way, a silent question.
"I just…" Roxanne sighs. She's tried to express this a few times, over the years, to various people. It tends not to be a popular opinion. Watching Megamind with Derya has been interesting, and surprisingly reassuring in a way Roxanne isn't sure how to explain, but… "I don't feel right," she finally says, "with the idea of having a kid that I don't feel a hundred percent enthusiastic about. And I love Derya, I absolutely do, but…I also love knowing she'll go home to her parents. I love being Auntie Roxie." She frowns up at him, remembering his earlier phrasing about his own family groups. "I suppose I feel more community-minded about it, if that makes sense?" Minion gives an encouraging nod to show he's still listening, but turns away to stir something on the stove. "I love babysitting," Roxanne says. "I do like kids, and I really am happy to step in with other people's kids anytime, not just Derya. But I don't feel like I need to be a parent to be fulfilled, child-wise, so…no, I don't think I'll be having babies anytime soon.
"But I have definitely met people I could see myself having kids with," she adds, because Minion hasn't said anything and Roxanne is always a bit jittery talking about this. "Like—I thought the other night, Megamind would probably be a great parent. But I still don't have that burning desire for babies, you know? Not like my sister does, or Salim. They both want a big family, and I'm…"
"Happy to act in a supporting role? Help ease their way a little?" Minion smiles over his shoulder at her. "I understand completely, Miss Ritchi. Could you please put that colander in the sink for me?"
She blinks. But—right, that's right. This is Minion. Minion has never judged her. And Roxanne has just sort of described a minion-y role, hasn't she? Of course he would get it. She smiles back. "Thanks, Minion," she says, rising to do as he asked and then move back out of his way. Then she sniffs a little. "What are you making? Can I help with anything else? It smells amazing."
He hums. "We are having brown trout in a lemon-garlic sauce, and asparagus. And this is going to be mashed parsnips, if I can get them to cooperate," he says, and Roxanne's jaw drops. "I think they might just need to finish steaming under some kind of towel; I don't want to overcook them."
"Oh, my god," Roxanne exclaims, finding her voice. "Parsnips, really? I haven't had mashed parsnips in years, are you serious?"
Minion shrugs and moves to the sink to strain them, hiding a smile. "You mentioned, some time ago," he says, "spending summers on your grandparents' farm. And I thought I remembered something about parsnips in there, so…"
Holy shit, Roxanne doesn't even remember that conversation. She hasn't even thought about parsnips in forever. "Minion, you are wonderful," she says. "I hope you know that."
He laughs. "Oh, thank you, Miss Ritchi!" he says. "Thank you, yes. I do try."
Minion, for his part, is doubly pleased with himself. One, he correctly remembered Miss Ritchi's fondness for parsnips. The expression she wears when surprised with something positive is one Minion privately, very quietly, would like to see more often; he's glad he was able to do this for her. And two, he has managed to use said parsnips to distract her from the fact that she—apparently—views Megamind as a viable mate. Regardless of whether she actively wants children or not, she does see Megamind as a potential partner in that arena. That's big. That's huge. Minion is tentatively feeling several different kinds of hopeful about that.
But now is simply not the time to delve into that conversation. Dinner is nearly ready and the brainbots will be waking Sir soon; now is the time for light talking and pleasantries and helping Miss Ritchi feel useful, since she asked to help and seems to sympathize with certain other minionesque qualities.
"If you could bring the creme fraiche over here," he says, "that would be lovely."
"Sure," Roxanne says. She doesn't appear to suspect a thing. Perfect. They will have a nice dinner, and Minion will not freak out about Miss Ritchi knowing the location of Evil Lair because wow this actually does feel shockingly normal, and Minion will figure out what to do about the viable-mate thing later, privately.
Miss Ritchi leans gently against his arm for a moment as he works and chats animatedly with her about seasonings and herbs, and Minion feels younger than he has in years.
And oh, oh okay, watching the two of them at dinner—wow again. Something is happening there. Minion isn't sure exactly what it is, but they do seem to be—looking at each other? An awful lot? And laughing. Sir keeps glancing up at Minion and sending him little flashes of nervous are-you-seeing-this smiles, but he really does seem startlingly relaxed, all things considered.
This. This is something Minion is going to have to try to pay closer attention to.
But for now, he can sit and have dinner. Sir is happy. Miss Ritchi is also happy. Derya has her baby food and she seems content enough in spite of her soon-to-be-teeth. And this feels dangerous, it feels like it can't possibly last, but for now—just for now—Minion can sit and drag the nice moment out for as long as he can.
But it ends eventually, as most things do. Later that night, Megamind walks back up the steps of Rose and Salim's home and knocks on the door, three sharp taps. It takes a minute or so, but Salim answers.
"We left this in the refrigerator," Megamind says, holding out the alligator teething ring, before Salim can get a greeting out. Salim laughs and holds the door open.
"Aw, thanks," he says, taking the ring and standing like Megamind is supposed to go inside. "Yeah, I was wondering where that got to. Hey, c'mon in."
Slowly, Megamind steps inside.
"Derya's asleep," Salim says. "But she seemed great when Annie brought her home. I want to say thanks for stepping up, earlier, we really appreciate it."
"Don't thank me," Megamind says, on autopilot, and then he winces at how sharp that sounded. "Sorry. Just. It was nothing. A favor for a—a friend. Friends."
Salim blinks at him for a moment, then shrugs a little and claps him on the shoulder. "Well, we appreciate it," he says again. "Can I get you a snack? Something to drink? Can you stay for a minute?"
Megamind hesitates. But…
"Yes," he says. "Yes, I can. Stay. Drink. Water?"
"Water," Salim agrees, waving for Megamind to follow him toward the kitchen in the back of the house. "The best drink, truly. Hey, I'm glad you came over; I wanted to ask: do you think sitting for Derya is something you might be interested in doing again sometime?"
"That's—what?"
"We have a neighbor who watches her sometimes when Roxanne can't do it, but she's got her own little one on the way," Salim explains. "We're going to be back down to one sitter—Roxanne—within the month. You did a good job today; if you're interested in being our permanent backup sitter, we're down."
He fills up two glasses from a jug of water in the door of the fridge, hands one to Megamind, and heads back out to the living room and sits down on the sofa there.
Megamind stares at him for most of this, his heart rate picking up. What? He can—they want him to take care of Derya? More?
That's—
There's a leaping feeling inside him, a little like light and a little like the way he feels when he flings himself out of the water and into the air, when oxygen hits his lungs and his gills at the same time and he's heading for the sky. It feels—bright? Good?
But.
He swallows hard as he sits down in the armchair across the room. "I think you may have forgotten what I am."
"An alien?"
He gives Salim a very flat look, but the man doesn't appear to be laughing at him. "A supervillain," he says, and Salim's mildly confused expression clears.
"I do live in Metro City," Salim says. "Or, excuse me—Metrocity. I haven't forgotten."
Megamind frowns a little. Drops his gaze.
"But," Salim says, "you've been doing fine, so far."
"We have met once." Megamind's voice is quiet. He doesn't look up. "Barely twice."
Salim frowns at him. "I know that," he says. "But Roxanne says you've been coming over pretty regularly on Fridays when I'm at Jum'ah to hang out and help her with Derya. When she got sick wasn't the first time you were there."
Megamind presses his lips together.
"And, look," Salim says. "You were the first person Roxanne told, when she got the news. And I know, I get it," he adds quickly, when Megamind sucks in a breath and looks like he might be about to argue, "you were the first person she saw. Maybe she would have blurted it out to anybody. But she wanted to tell you we were having a girl. Not just anybody—she didn't tell anybody else; we asked her not to. She asked if she could tell you, if it would be okay. She said you and Minion were interested in how things were going."
Megamind makes a low sort of scoffing sound, and Salim feels his expression tighten. "And you made me those shirts," he says quietly. "They were fantastic. They—look, I don't usually have bad dysphoria anymore, but—pregnancy—don't get me wrong: it was worth it, and I'd do it again. But it was not a good time for me. And the shirts didn't fix it, but they helped. They really did."
"The shirts were from Minion."
"You were involved," Salim says, flat. "Annie said something about you wanting to put 'can't touch this' on them? Which, for the record—I think that's hilarious, I love it. You were involved. And you sent us that quilt and the galaxy nightlight, which are both just wonderful.
"And you—well, I'm just saying. You have been doing fine with our family so far, supervillain or not."
He stops talking, but Megamind doesn't reply. He just sits with his shoulders rounded, staring down into his water glass.
Finally Salim clears his throat. "Anyway." He sips his water, gives Megamind a frank look. "You've sat for her on your own three times now and she's come back happy and in one piece. So, yes. You are an alien and a supervillain and Rose and I would love to have you as our primary backup sitter."
"I'd like that, then," Megamind hears himself say. "I would—I would love that. To see her. More."
Salim smiles at him. "Awesome. Thanks, man."
Megamind looks away.
After a while, Salim says, "So, hey, can I ask—why villainy? We asked Annie, but she wasn't sure."
Megamind frowns and looks up. "I told Roxanne why villainy."
Salim grimaces. "Okay, so, mostly she said it was personal and she wasn't comfortable talking about it without your say-so."
Megamind frowns harder, genuinely confused in addition to being entirely out of his depth with this whole interaction. "I don't know what's personal about there's nothing else out there for me."
"Nothing else?" Salim asks, sounding startled. "Really?"
Megamind gives a sharp shrug. "I've always been destined for this," he says, taking a breath and leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I was a difficult child. I am a difficult adult."
Salim blinks. "You seem pretty chill to me," he says, but Megamind just huffs a short laugh and shakes his head. "…Do you like being a supervillain?"
"It's engaging. Allows me to stretch my mind. The expected lifespan isn't great, but," Megamind shrugs again, "that comes with the territory. I'm on an alien world; my life was never going to be very long. Frankly I'm amazed I've made it as far as I have." He pauses. "Being a supervillain, being evil…that's just who I am." He offers up a smile, but he isn't sure if it reaches his eyes or not. Between the awful beginning to his day and his laser-sharp but exhausting focus on Derya in the evening, he's tired.
"I don't think that's right," Salim says, staring. Megamind peers at him, wary. "I—okay, obviously you're the expert on you. But being a supervillain is just what you do, right? That's not who you are. You aren't evil, you just…do evil. As your job."
"I don't see a difference." Megamind sips his water and tries to blank himself, but he mostly fails. Strange—that's usually easier to do when he's tired, like this.
Salim is quiet for a long moment, frowning, with a sort of perplexed expression on his face.
"Okay, so, the way I see it…what you do," he finally says, speaking slowly, "your actions follow who you are. Your actions follow your intentions." (And oh, great, this will be fun. Listening to this while fully present. Megamind isn't—he isn't entirely sure he can handle—) "They affect each other; you can't have a total disconnect. That's why you picked the standards you did, you know? Rose and I were talking the other night, and honestly, I don't think I'd call you 'evil' as much as 'antiestablishment.'" He sounds almost apologetic, and totally oblivious to Megamind's discomfort. "But, yeah, like I said—what you do and who you are? They affect each other, but they're not the same thing."
Megamind frowns. Breathes deeply. "What I do is part of who I am," he allows, but Salim appears to reject this as well.
"A little. Okay, a little, sure, but—I think you've got it backwards? Who you are informs what you do, way more than the other way around." Megamind just squints at him, so Salim shakes his head and says, "Look. You put who you are into what you do—yes? That's why the buildings you destroy are evacuated. That's why you're quiet for a couple weeks on the rare occasion there's collateral damage. That's why that bill went through on the insurance proceeds taxability thing ten years ago. Those things are who you are. Your intentions are to minimize harm, at least from where I'm sitting."
Megamind recoils. "That—no, that wasn't, that was—" Salim gives him a very flat look. "How," he whispers.
"Roxanne, again," he says. "But my point is, who you are goes into what you do. Actions are by intentions. That's true for everybody. So your actions—what you do reflects who you are, especially in the details, okay? Not just the big stuff. And who you are," he continues, relentless, "is a good person."
Megamind's gaze snaps to him. Salim smiles a little.
"I'm serious," he says. "I know we've only really hung out once before, but Roxanne talks about you a lot, and I live in Metro City and I have eyes, and you're part of the family at this point and…I mean, I wouldn't call you a paragon of virtue, or anything, but…evil is a real stretch. You know? You're a good dude, overall."
Megamind stares. Salim can't be sure, but the alien looks like he might be about to cry; his eyebrows are halfway up his forehead and his lips are parted and—
—and then his expression goes totally flat and he stands up. "I have to go."
"Okay," Salim says, uncertain. "You still good to babysit for Derya? I haven't scared you off?"
Megamind presses his lips together, but he nods. "I am. Good. To babysit, yes."
He starts to head for the door, but Salim stands up. "Hey, wait."
(Megamind—should just go, should walk away and not look back, should say no to this babysitting thing and leave now and never come back and—but he can't. He—god. When he dies, he dies, but Derya—he at least wants to see her as much as he can, first. Her and Roxanne.)
He eyes Salim warily, lowering his head as he approaches. He's still wearing that flat expression. Slowly, Salim lifts his hands. "Hug?"
He's pretty sure Megamind is going to say no. Honestly, he's pretty sure he just overstepped in a big way, and he's planning on texting Roxanne after this to warn her that her pet supervillain might be in some kind of mood.
Megamind stands with his head sort of bowed and his green eyes flicking all over the room, both elbows slicked against his sides, both hands clenched. And when he lifts his head, his flat expression has turned downright scary—he looks angry enough to spit. But he takes two steps forward, grabs Salim by the shoulder, and clunks their foreheads together hard. And he shoves. Just for a moment, but he does push, and he's away in the next second.
"Give Rose one from me," he says shortly, and he's out the door and into the night before Salim can do much more than register what he said.
Salim blinks at the closed front door, and slowly brings a hand up to rub his forehead. "Ow," he says, to nobody in particular.
What the heck was that?
Four days later, Megamind has just hit his first snag in the construction of his new battlesuit when his phone lights up.
Hey :) miss you, can you come over? Dinner? Nachos?
He bites his lip. Working, he texts back. Sorry.
A minute later, the screen lights again.
:(
Megamind sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He should really stay. Finish working this out. But.
He scowls down at the plans, then up at the scaffolded pre-endoskeleton. The hydraulics just aren't working, and he can't see why, and it's so annoying, because hydraulics are easy.
Still. If Roxanne is asking to see him…
He doesn't have to leave for very long. And he does need to eat. He can leave to eat dinner and then come back, load up on coffee, and throw himself into this problem until it gives way like his problems always do. Besides, this battlesuit still isn't speaking to him the way he's sure it would have a year ago. He's been expecting himself to pick up his usual excitement at some point—battlesuits are usually a surefire pick-me-up—but he's got nothing.
OK, he types, already heading for his bedroom. I'll be there in 15.
He finishes getting dressed in two minutes, checks his phone again, smiles at Roxanne's simple :D, and breaks into a jog as he goes for his hoverbike. He's in the air two minutes after that, and roaring across the beginnings of what will surely be a beautiful sunset.
Looks like today was a nice day. It's a shame he missed it.
Roxanne meets him on her balcony, standing just outside her door as he lands. She's smiling at him as he lands, which—that is still just the strangest thing. "Hey," she says. "I'm glad you could take a break!"
He smiles tiredly at her as he climbs off the bike. "Yes," he says, resisting the urge to pour himself into her arms and put his head on her shoulder, "you had good timing. I was having a problem and I'm not at all sure I'll be able to solve it in time to get everything ready by next Tuesday."
"Tuesday," Roxanne says, sounding surprised. "So no kidnapping this week? Wow, then I'm extra glad you came over. I have to get my mega-fix or I get cranky. Come on in."
He follows her inside. "You look nice," he says. He isn't sure if this is inappropriate, but she does. She's wearing a sort of sleeveless, dark purple dress with a ruffled collar, and it really does look lovely on her. Also, her feet are bare, and the formal/informality of the look makes Megamind's heart do a squeezy thing.
"You like it?" she says, smiling at him over her shoulder. "I like it, too. I haven't had as many reasons to dress up recently while Carl figures out a new team for me, but I felt like being fancy today.
"You also look nice," she adds, turning and giving him a quick down-up look that makes heat rise to his ears. "I love that shirt. You wear small prints really well." The shirt is black, with a semi-retro floral print in various shades of pink and blue. "It's nice to see some color on you."
He flushes. "I liked the flowers on the beverage tote you let me borrow," he admits. "I told Minion about it and he's…going a bit wild with the flowers, now."
Roxanne laughs. "I bet he likes having some variety."
"He really does." Megamind rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his smile is fond. "He's getting fancy with the cuts, as well. This is one of the more basic ones."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oooh. You'll have to show me one of the fancier ones, sometime!"
He wrinkles his nose. "The most recent one was silk and had ruffles," he says, and Roxanne's face lights up. "I will not show you that one."
"You will too, that sounds amazing and I absolutely must see it as soon as possible."
He laughs. "We'll see, Miss Ritchi," he says, in Minion's voice. Then, "How do nachos work?"
Roxanne waves him over to her kitchenette, laughing at the mimicry. "Oh, they're super easy, I'll show you. And then I thought we'd eat on the balcony? If you wanted?"
He nods. "It's a nice day," he says, hearing the regret in his own voice and chafing at it. "I spent all of it inside."
"Aw," she says. "That's sad."
She shows him how to arrange the chips on his plate, and then the toppings on top of the chips, and then cheese on top of those, and then under the broiler to melt the cheese. And Megamind thinks—the nacho meat is definitely freshly-cooked and he can't see an apron anywhere, but there are absolutely no grease spots on Roxanne's dress—not that he was looking!—but, did she—did she put her work clothes back on? Before he came over? Cook in one thing, wear something else?
It really is a nice dress. The cut shows off her curves, which are voluptuous and delightful and definitely not something Megamind has ever noticed and thrilled at several thousand times before. Ha. That would be ridiculous.
But dresses are not something Roxanne wears around her home, and she probably got home several hours ago.
He frowns.
Don't read into it, he tells himself. She said she felt like being fancy. She's allowed to want to be fancy on a whim.
And then he's sitting on Roxanne's balcony, in the gold of the sunset, sharing dinner and laughing with her. Talking about nothing. At one point, talking about literally nothing and the entropy involved with that. At another point, talking about whether Roxanne can afford to quit her job and freelance for a living. She wants to, she says. She might not ever wind up in front of a camera again, and the longer she stays out of the limelight the more okay she is with it. But the job is boring as it is, and unless she can figure out a way to make it interesting again…
"You'll make it work," Megamind assures her. "Whether you stay with KCMP or go somewhere else or strike out on your own. You're brilliant, Roxanne, you truly are." And Roxanne blushes prettily under her freckles and smiles—
—and he thinks—mental snapshot, remember this, keep this—want to stay here with you forever—
He pauses.
Megamind has not thought about forever in well over a decade.
"So, tell me about this problem you're having with your new plan," Roxanne is saying, and he shakes himself and focuses on her. Right. The moment. This moment is all that matters. "I'm brilliant. Maybe I can help," she says, still smiling, with color in her cheeks.
"It's a battlesuit," he says. "I don't want to give too much away, but there's a claw. Like a fiddler crab. So there is a lot of power in its arms, in particular, and the hydraulics just do not want to work." He sighs. "I'll figure it out. I'm just annoyed with it."
"And you said you want this thing done by Tuesday?" she says, staring at him. Her smile is fading. "For a full battlesuit? And you're only just now getting it constructed—" Her expression goes worried and she reaches forward across her little table, puts her hand on his arm. "Megamind, you—when did you start working on this?"
"A few days ago," he says breezily, trying to blow her off. "The brainbots and I work quickly."
"And when did you start designing it?"
She knows him entirely too well. "A few days ago, I told you," he says, trying not to snap. It's a valid question. She's allowed to ask questions. It's just that Minion has been on him about this, too, and he is entirely sick of hearing about it. "It's really okay. Like I said, we work fast."
"Fast isn't—fast is not safe," Roxanne says, horrified, squeezing his arm. "You need to take your time! For a full battlesuit—take your time, build it solid, make sure it tests well! The balance and counterweights on this thing are going to have to be perfect."
"I know that," he says irritably, pulling his arm away. "Sorry, which one of us is the supervillain, here? I really don't see why you're worried."
"It's just—you've gotten hurt, before, Megamind," Roxanne says. "You're tough, and I know you are utterly determined, and I love that about you, but the eye thing—and your hip—" She swallows, and Megamind flushes, wishing yet again that she hadn't seen any of that. "And this, this—machine—you've only been working on it for—what, a week? Tops? It's going to be a deathtrap!"
"That's the general idea," he says coldly.
"A deathtrap for you," she says, her voice sharp. "Not Metro Man."
Megamind scoffs in his throat. "If I die, I die," he says flatly, as he has told himself so many times before, but Roxanne recoils. "Oh well."
Roxanne stares at him. "Oh well—no! No, not 'oh well!' Megamind, this is your life I am worried about!"
"I don't need you to worry about me!" he snarls, getting to his feet. This again. This again; he can't think about this again or all of his resolve is going to collapse. It's been dangerously shaky lately as-is and he cannot afford this. "This is my life, Roxanne! And it is my life! I don't need you worrying about me!"
"Do you want to die?" she asks, pushing herself up as well and wrapping her arms across her chest, gripping her elbows like she's holding herself upright.
"No! No, I don't—I do not want to, but what else is there?" He throws up his hands, then gestures at his chest with his fingertips. "Look at me! Look at me, Roxanne. Tell me what happens to all the other supervillains! All of them! What else is there?"
She stares at him, shaking her head mutely.
"You know it's true," he says. "You know it is. I'm the bad guy; I don't fly off into the sunset for a happy ending. The most any of us can hope for is that it's quick. That's how this goes. You know that's how this goes."
"You just said you don't want it," she tries, voice shaking. "You could retire," but Megamind laughs mirthlessly.
"What I want hasn't mattered in years," he says. "If it ever mattered in the first place. There's nothing else, Roxanne. This is who I am and there is nothing else out there for me."
"I can't do this," Roxanne says, backing away from him, still shaking her head. "I can't do this, I won't—I can't watch you do this to yourself. And this is not who you are, Megamind, this isn't—there is so much more in you than this—"
"Oh, because you know exactly who I am," he snaps.
"I can't do this, Megamind," Roxanne snaps back. "If you're going to build yourself a fucking deathtrap and roll it out before it's ready, I don't want to hear about it and I don't want to see it and—I'm not—I can't do this."
"Then don't," Megamind says flatly, and Roxanne's expression contorts into full anger.
"Fine," she hisses. "Fine. I won't. I just won't fucking keep you in my life if you're going to treat yourself like you don't matter. And I'm not talking myself out of it," she adds, spitting the words at him, curling her lip. "If you want to be like this, if you want to go smear yourself across the pavement somewhere—fine. Fine. Fuck you." She pinches her lips together, glaring, her mouth trembling with what Megamind assumes is rage.
"This is who I am, Roxanne," he snaps, his voice shaking as he struggles to maintain his usual even keel in the face of her I won't talk myself out of this. "This is who I am. I am—evil, okay? I am evil. I am not good. No good. I am a supervillain; I have always been destined for villainy; this is me; this is who I am. Love it or leave it."
"Watch me do both," she snarls, and slams the door behind her and yanks the curtain closed.
Megamind jerks like she just slapped him and stares after her. What the hell did that—
He starts forward—
And then he stops. Stands. Forces himself to breathe. Swallows the stone in his throat down into his chest. Forces it down.
Forces everything down.
There is no point to any of this. There is absolutely no point to any of what he's doing here. There are no other paths that Megamind can see, and there is no point in ever wanting to be anything more than what he is, and if he's disappointed then it's his own fault for getting distracted.
He stands, and breathes, and then he whirls on his heels and stalks back to his hoverbike.
Roxanne stands just inside her balcony doors, glaring into her apartment and breathing hard, and then—
Her lips pinch as her breath catches. She tips her head back so the tears in her eyes run down the outside of her face rather than the sides of her nose, and she swipes them angrily away.
That was cruel, she knows. She's already regretting it. But—god. He's so stubborn.
How could—how could he say all those awful things? As if they were true! As if they were remotely true. There's more out there for him. There is. There is. There are supervillains who don't die. Aren't there?
There have to be.
Blinking back tears, Roxanne grabs a notebook, goes to her computer, and fires up Google.
There have to be others. They're supervillains, for god's sake; they tend to be crafty. They can't all die young. Even if it seems like all—pseudocide is rarely confirmed, but Roxanne knows from Wayne that it's talked about enough in super-circles that it's likely not uncommon.
There have to be others. She'll start with the obituaries, start looking for patterns and go from there. There are supervillains who retire, there are, and Roxanne is going to find them.
Later that night, sitting in the scaffolding around his still-faulty battlesuit, Megamind grumbles in his throat and rubs at his good eye.
The really annoying thing is, Roxanne wasn't wrong. This contraption is very much a rush job—he needs it done within the week if he wants to keep from falling behind this quarter. But it isn't like he has any better ideas. And it isn't like he's never pushed himself before, with caffeine and spite to carry him through rushed builds. Megamind is getting older, yes, but he's still fairly young for his species and still full of the proverbial spit and vinegar. He'll be fine.
He sighs and adjusts his watch to turn off his hard-light underlay, then grips his right elbow and grits his teeth as his artificial nerves disengage from their counterparts below his skin. He tugs his arm free of his sleeve and passes it off to a brainbot to hold onto for a moment.
The searing pain of interrupted nerves is usually enough to keep Megamind from messing with his prosthetic, but it's been a while and tonight the damned scar just won't stop itching. He rucks up the loose sleeve of his pajamas so he can rub absently at the old tuck of skin an inch or so north of where his elbow used to be.
He's lucky, he knows. Lucky to keep his shoulder and upper arm, and incredibly lucky to be able to design his own reasonably lightweight biomechanical neuroprosthetic. Lucky to have a full-body scan of himself on file, complete with ocular tracking, to keep himself on the down low. There's no shame in this, of course, but a villain has enemies, and they were already sniffing around during his extended absence while he recovered and worked on his range of motion. Worked on building something to just make this not be happening.
Which didn't work, of course. Even Megamind's technology isn't magic. The computerized sensors in his hand and arm helped a lot, as did his existing prowess at cyborg part design and organotech integration, but recovering his dexterity while defending his title as reigning supervillain without making his disability obvious was a nightmare for three solid years. He made it, in the end, but…
Well. What the hell else was he supposed to do? Lie down and die? Megamind does not go gentle into that good night.
And Salim wasn't wrong, either. Megamind does what he can along the path that's laid for him, within the parameters he knows. But he doesn't dare stray from that path, can't look too far beyond it. There's no safety net to catch him if he falls or falters, he knows. It's fine.
(he could)
(build his own net)
(maybe)
(text roxanne—)
(—no.)
He starts to reach up to rub his eye again, then remembers he's currently one-handed. God, he's tired. He unbuttons his pajama shirt and shrugs halfway out of it so he can reattach his arm more easily. The pins and needles never really do go away, do they? Removing the neuroprosthetic is unpleasant in more ways than one.
He hisses between his teeth as his nerves reconnect, then flexes his fingers a few times, twirls his wrist, and starts running through his warmup routine. He's fine. He'll be fine. And he'll catch some enthusiasm for this battlesuit at some point, right? It's not like he's going to feel stuck like this forever, right?
There's more in you than this, Roxanne said, before she threw Megamind's heart at his feet, and she certainly seemed sure of herself. And Megamind—Megamind is getting pretty good at trusting Roxanne, it's just—god. God, it would be nice if he could actually see what she's talking about. He wasn't lying when he said he doesn't want to die, but he really is not sure, these days, how much more of this he can take.
He's fine. Time to go to work.
