For a solid minute and a half, neither of them moved—Roxanne because she wanted to be sure that the other people had really gone, and Megamind, presumably, for the same reason.
Roxanne was terribly conscious of how close he was, of the rise and fall of his chest, of his breathing. She had one arm around his waist, and the other was twisted in the lapel of the jacket he was wearing; she could feel his body shift beneath her hands as he breathed, and for some reason the sensation of that was very nearly overwhelming.
The two of them were pressed very close, but Megamind was supporting almost all of his own weight on his knees and his forearms, braced against the side of the desk.
He stared down at her, his eyes wide—probably still shocked that she'd bitten him. Roxanne was a little shocked herself actually; it hadn't been a conscious choice, but when he'd pressed his lips against her ear and then whispered, the—the—the shock of it; yes, the shock of the sensation—
(his lips on her skin, his voice in her ear)
—had sent something hot and sudden through her whole body, like lightning, and she'd just—reacted without thinking.
…she was really zero for three on the impulse control tonight—the bite, the staying too long in this office, the pulling Megamind under the desk with her—
Her stupid mind had still been in panicHIDE mode, and for some reason it had decided Megamind belonged in the category of 'things to hide' rather than 'things to hide from', and then once he was under the desk with her, she couldn't very well let him come out again in front of people; there would have been inconvenient questions like 'what were you doing under a desk with Megamind, Roxanne?' and—
Beneath the desk, Roxanne managed to collect the shreds of her dignity enough to unwind her hand from Megamind's lapel to give him a light push with her fingertips—surely, surely they'd waited long enough—
Megamind pushed himself up and off of her and out from under the desk with a fluid grace that instantly made her feel twice as heavy and awkward. She clambered up after him.
"You—you bit me!" he hissed in a low voice, pointing an accusing finger at her.
"You deserved it!"
"Wh—I did not! You—"
"Not up to even your usual standards tonight, I see," Roxanne said, changing tactics. "Trying to kidnap me with a knife, Megamind, really?"
Megamind's eyes flickered to the knife in his hand, as if he'd forgotten he was holding it, then he drew himself up and tried to look down his nose at her—tried without success, she noted with satisfaction. She was two inches taller than him in these heels.
Then he smiled at her, sharp and sudden and wicked, which was—
—rather more successful, Roxanne was forced to admit.
"So eager to be kidnapped, Miss Ritchi?" he said. "I'm flattered! But I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint—I'm not actually here for you. I had no idea you were even up here."
Roxanne felt herself flush, anger and embarrassment together.
"Oh," she said, "so you just happened to jump over that desk and pull a knife on me?"
"Well, I could tell someone was under the desk," Megamind said, looking maddeningly pleased at having disconcerted her so thoroughly. "I assumed it was a trap."
"So you decided to attack them with a knife?" Roxanne said, arching an eyebrow. "Are the ray guns all zapped out or something?"
"Well, I couldn't very well have the de-gun on me when they searched me," Megamind said. "They never would have let me in."
"But they let you in with that?" Roxanne asked skeptically, gesturing at the knife.
Megamind grinned at her.
"Butterfly knife—" he said.
With a quick, fluid motion of his hand, the handle of the knife separated into two pieces on either side of the blade, furling and unfurling like a fan as he made the knife twirl over and through his fingers. The thing closed with a snap, the blade folded down, hidden between the two halves of the handle.
"—not actually illegal," he concluded, and slipped it into his pocket.
(that ridiculous, shivery, electric feeling, not just down her spine this time, but curling in the pit of her stomach, too, and—)
"Wait, what do you mean, let you in?" Roxanne said, as his earlier words finally registered.
An expression of consternation crossed Megamind's face—clearly, he hadn't meant to tell her that. She looked him up and down—he was in a formal suit, with a tie and everything, dressed like—
"Did you get in here as a guest somehow?"
"That's—that's none of your business!" Megamind said. "And! And what are you doing up here, Miss Ritchi; that's what I'd like to know!"
"That's none of your business," Roxanne repeated his words mockingly.
He glared at her, and Roxanne laughed at him.
"I got bored of the party," she said.
Megamind's eyes narrowed.
"—I don't believe you. Why would you hide under the desk?"
"I didn't want to talk to anyone," Roxanne said, letting her voice take on an edge of malice. "It's been a rather trying week."
Color flew to Megamind's cheeks—oh, Roxanne thought with vicious satisfaction, so he hadn't just completely forgotten about that tabloid article!
The first time seeing her after its publication, and he hadn't even mentioned the damn thing, like it was unworthy of his notice—
(like she was unworthy of his notice)
"Miss—"
"How did you get in?" Roxanne asked. She narrowed her eyes. "It had to be a disguise; if you'd been using hypnosis or something, you wouldn't have needed to leave the gun or wear those clothes—a hologram? Where's the projector; are you wearing it?"
Megamind took a sharp, hissing kind of breath, like he'd touched a flame unexpectedly.
"You made a wearable, full-body holographic projection," Roxanne said, "and you didn't bother to include clothes, or the ability to conceal a weapon?"
"It's just a prototype!" Megamind snapped.
Roxanne smiled in satisfaction.
"So it is a hologram," she said.
Megamind growled beneath his breath.
"You must have needed to come here for something pretty important," Roxanne went on, "if you decided to use the hologram before you'd finished it."
Megamind didn't answer, just glared at her. Roxanne grinned and perched on the edge of the desk.
"So what is it?" she said. "Why are you here?"
Megamind's expression suddenly cleared, and then a slow, dangerous smile spread over his face.
"I'm here to steal something," he said. He pulled the desk drawer open sharply. "Care to be an accessory to the crime, Miss Ritchi?"
Roxanne opened her eyes very wide and gave him her best innocent damsel expression.
"Oh, officer, he had a knife! There was nothing I could do!"
Megamind gave her a look that was half frustrated annoyance and half unwilling amusement.
"And yet you'll never do that for me," he said.
Roxanne snorted.
(steal something—the desk drawer—did he know about the file? was that what he—)
"I'm not scared of you," Roxanne said. "And you'd never fall for it. What would be the point?"
Megamind, looking through the contents of the desk drawer, threw her a sharp, irritated glance.
"Well, for one thing," he snapped, "people would be less likely to write tabloid articles speculating about the nature of our relationship. If you'd just—"
"—oh, no; no; no!" Roxanne said. "You do not get to blame this on me! You're the one doing the kidnapping! That is entirely—"
"—if you'd just act like a real damsel—"
"Oh, as if you act like a real supervillain!" Roxanne said, stung in spite of herself.
"I am a real supervillain!" Megamind said. He shoved the desk drawer closed. "Alligators, deathtraps, giant robots; I don't know what else you want from me, Miss Ritchi!"
(the electric feeling running down her spine, the heat blooming in the pit of her stomach)
(—she wanted—)
"—nothing," Roxanne snapped. "I don't want anything from you."
Megamind went still for half a moment, then his lips curled into a cold smile.
"Of course," he said.
He turned away and moved towards one of the pictures on the wall, ran his fingertips along the edge of the frame.
Roxanne glared at his back and told herself that she was not upset, damn it. She wasn't.
Not a real damsel.
(maybe if she'd been a real damsel, he might have—)
She wasn't upset.
"Well, you won't have any more problems with people insinuating things about you and me, anyway!" she said, throwing the words at him. "After that interview with Wayne, you clearly know you don't have any reason to kidnap me ever again!"
Megamind went still again, and for a moment, she thought he might turn and say something—something—
"—of course" he said in a stiff voice, without turning. "I'm sure you're terribly relieved."
Roxanne furiously repressed the urge to throw her shoe at the back of his giant blue head. How dare he not even look at her; how dare he just—dismiss her like that, like she no longer mattered at all—
"Yes!" she said defiantly. "And I'm sure you're relieved to know that you can find yourself some vapid little damsel to scream for you instead!"
"You'll be able to return to your boring normal life," Megamind said flatly, and moved to the other picture frame, still without turning. "How wonderful for you."
"I am not boring!"
Megamind neither turned nor answered.
Anger and humiliation warred in Roxanne's chest; she gripped her beaded handbag tightly.
Boring.
She wasn't—
That damned tabloid article about her and Megamind had come out at the beginning of the week, that photograph on the front of the magazine: Roxanne and Megamind, their faces, close together—Megamind leaning over to her, smiling wickedly, Roxanne with her head tilted up, looking at him, her lips half-curved in an amused smile and parted to say something. Only—the photographer had caught them both in mid-blink or something, because both of their gazes appeared to be focused on each other's mouths.
Roxanne Ritchi's Supervillain Scandal! had been the title of the thing, complete with the three superfluous exclamation points.
She'd gotten a panicked phone call from her mother (no, mother, of course I'm not having an affair with Megamind; yes, mother; I'm sure; that's not a thing that I wouldn't be sure about); there'd been calls to the station, asking if it was true, asking if she'd give an interview. And she'd seen people, at work, and out in public; she'd seen them staring at her and whispering behind her back or just out of earshot.
It had been—upsetting.
Upsetting in a way that was—different, somehow, from the way people assuming she was with Metro Man had been irritating.
(probably because of how you—)
It had just been upsetting.
When Wayne had given an interview of his own to a different, rather more respectable magazine, explaining that he and Roxanne had never been in a relationship, she'd been glad, at first, that at least one public misconception about her love life had been cleared up. And she'd hoped it might distract people from the whole Megamind debacle.
It had hurt when she realized a good many people were assuming that Wayne was just getting rid of her because she had been cheating on him. And it had hurt more when she realized that other people—
It had been at work, when she figured out just what people were thinking about her. Roxanne had been on he way to the copy room; she'd passed a cubicle, and had heard several of her co-workers inside—talking.
About her.
They hadn't known she was there; they'd been facing away from her, looking at a computer screen, with the picture from the tabloid article on it.
"—ridiculous, of course it's not true," one of them had said. "Don't tell me that Roxanne Ritchi, miss vanilla-as-they-come, miss 'I bought the same dress in three different colors'—"
The woman clicked the mouse and a series of images flashed across the computer screen: Roxanne in that cute purple dress, the one with the ruffled neckline—and then in her black version of the dress—and then in her blue version of the dress—
Roxanne had stood frozen in the hallway as the whole group of them laughed.
"—don't tell me you really think that she," the woman said scornfully, "is having some kind of steamy affair with him."
Another click of the mouse, another image on the computer screen—Megamind, leaning up against the lair console and smirking, all eyeliner and black leather and sex.
"—I mean, come on! Can you imagine? He'd be wanting to bring out the ropes and handcuffs, and she'd just be complaining the entire time! Nag, nag, nag; can you imagine anyone less fun?"
Another chorus of laughter.
"I'd much rather imagine him," someone else said, and several people agreed and started talking at once, and Roxanne hadn't waited to hear the end of the conversation, but had gone to sit by herself in the copy room in the dark and try not to cry.
Was she—was she actually like that? Did people really—
(nag, nag, nag; can you imagine anyone less fun?)
—did Megamind think that about her, too?
(if you'd just act like a real damsel)
Sitting on the desk, now, watching Megamind search behind the picture frame for a hidden catch, Roxanne again found herself furiously repressing tears.
(go back to your boring, normal life)
—she did buy the same dress in different colors, a lot of times, yes, and the same shirt in different colors a lot of times, and the same jeans in slightly different washes, but surely that wasn't that bad, was it? She was just—hard to fit, and particular about clothing textures and comfort and—
Besides! Megamind wore exactly one outfit; how was that any less boring?
—all right, so his was skintight leather, yes, okay, but still—
And he apparently wore a suit extremely well, Roxanne admitted bitterly, glaring at his back. Why wouldn't he turn and look at her? Why did he have to keep acting like she wasn't there?
Finally, he did turn to face her, a bland, calm expression on his face, and Roxanne wanted to break something. His eyes shifted from her to the desk (like she was nothing, like she wasn't even there) and he tilted his head thoughtfully. He walked towards her—
—towards the desk. Not towards her. She just happened to be on the desk; he wasn't walking towards her. He didn't even really look at her, just knelt down and began to examine the paneling on the underside of the desk.
"Didn't you spend enough time down there already?" Roxanne asked, breaking the silence, the words abrupt and ungraceful and ugly, and god, it was no wonder people laughed at the idea of Megamind finding her attractive.
"—yes, well," Megamind said, still beneath the desk. "I was a little—distracted—at the time."
For one wild, heart-flipping moment, Roxanne thought he meant he'd been distracted by her, but—
"There was—rather a lot happening," Megamind continued.
—ah. Of course. The people; he was talking about the people.
Oh, get a grip, Roxanne; of course he was talking about the two people making out on top of the damn desk. Of course he didn't mean you. As if he would ever.
Roxanne scowled out the window at the city lights as Megamind tapped at the underside of the desk, searching for hidden drawers.
(Roxanne Ritchi, miss vanilla-as-they-come)
Vanilla. Well, what was wrong with being vanilla? What was the big deal about sex, anyway, that was what Roxanne wanted to know. The (okay, admittedly not that many) times she'd had it were—nice enough, she supposed, but hardly anything amazing.
(maybe there is something wrong with you. maybe you're just—)
—cold. frigid.
boring.
Roxanne gritted her teeth.
(miss vanilla-as-they-come; he'd be wanting to bring out the ropes and handcuffs, and she'd just be complaining the entire—)
She wasn't—just because she'd never—it wasn't like she was opposed to the idea of ropes and handcuffs! With the right person! Someone she—
(I'm not scared of you)
—trusted; someone she really—
(don't know what else you want from me, miss ritchi)
—wanted; someone—
It wasn't—it wasn't like she actually wanted to have an affair with Megamind! Not—obviously, obviously she didn't! Obviously she didn't actually want Megamind to tie her up and have his wicked way with her—
(bent over the console in the lair; tangled up with him in his bed; lying back on this desk; didn't want him to kiss her, didn't want him to touch her, didn't want him to shove her skirt up and screw her until she screamed)
—because—
(didn't want him to smile at her, didn't want him to talk to her, didn't want him to care about her, didn't want him to love—)
—because that would be ridiculous.
Ridiculous.
Obviously she didn't want to have an affair with him. Obviously.
It just.
It just would have been nice to think that she could have.
If she'd wanted to.
Which she didn't.
Obviously.
Megamind stood up from beneath the desk and glanced over at Roxanne, who was glaring out the window with an expression of extreme displeasure.
He glanced over his shoulder, saw nothing but the city lights.
"What?" he said.
"What!" Roxanne jumped, looking over at him with wide eyes, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "I—what?"
"What were you looking at?" Megamind asked.
He glanced over his shoulder again, but again saw nothing but the window and the city lights.
"What?" Roxanne said. "Oh—that's—nothing. I wasn't—I wasn't looking at anything. I was thinking of something else—do you think this dress is nice at all?" she asked, absolutely out of nowhere.
There was a very long pause in which Megamind unsuccessfully attempted to think why in the everlovingfuck she would ever, ever ask him what he thought of her dress.
"What?" he said, finally, cautiously.
"—nothing," Roxanne said, scowling again. "Never mind."
She glared at the window again, lips pressed together tightly, her mind clearly reverting back to her original thought, as if he'd never even spoken, as if he wasn't even there.
Megamind's lips twisted as he turned away from her to examine the computer itself.
He couldn't hold her attention even when he was right in front of her.
What was she thinking about so furiously? Was she angry about something? About the tabloid—no; she'd just pointed out that he wouldn't have any excuse to kidnap her any longer; surely the prospect of finally being rid of him balanced out any annoyance at that ridiculous rumor.
She'd said she was annoyed about it, of course, had said that was why she was up here, but he'd been pretty sure she was lying when she—
—said that. He was pretty sure she'd been lying when she'd said that; he never had gotten a satisfactory answer as to why she was here, and now she was glaring out the window, deep in thought about something else and—
No wonder he couldn't find the file.
Megamind turned slowly towards Roxanne.
"You," he said. "You already have it."
Roxanne jumped again.
"What?" she said.
"You have it," Megamind said, growing steadily more certain—that would explain why she seemed so on edge tonight.
"Have—?" she asked blankly, for all the world as if she didn't know what he was talking about, but there was no way he was falling for that.
"The surveillance file," he said, stalking slowly around the desk towards her. He watched her face as he approached, and saw color rise to it, and knew he was right. "That's what you were doing here."
"I—" she slid off the desk with an artificial little laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"That's why I can't find it," he said softly.
He took another step towards her, and she actually stumbled back, coming up against the desk. Her hands went back to catch herself.
"You already have it," he said.
She swallowed visibly, and her eyes flicked down and to the side, breaking his gaze.
Megamind followed the direction of her eyes—ah, yes, of course—
Her eyes flicked up to his again, and widened, and she made a little movement with her left hand, as if she wanted to hide the handbag she was holding.
Megamind smiled, right hand darting out to grab her wrist.
The swiftness of the motion must have caught her off guard, because she let him do it, didn't even try to pull away as he lifted her hand up and plucked the handbag from it with his free hand.
She took a sharp breath, and her wrist jerked in his grip. Megamind let go of it and took half a step back, opening the handbag, looking through it.
—car keys, hairpins, painkillers, lipsticks—
He frowned, disconcerted, and glanced up at Roxanne.
She was holding her left hand, the one he'd grabbed, close to her chest, fingers of her right hand wrapped around her left wrist. Megamind felt a flash of surprised concern—he hadn't hurt her, had he? Surely he hadn't hurt her; he'd been very careful—
"What?" Roxanne said.
She glanced down at her own hands and let go of her wrist quickly, as if he'd caught her doing something she didn't want him to see—
"What?" she said, again, but in a different tone, and when he looked up into her face once more, she lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows challengingly.
Her lips curved in that perfectly maddening smile of hers, sending heat down his spine.
"Can't you find what you're looking for, Megamind?"
Megamind growled under his breath in frustration. He tossed the purse down onto the desk without looking.
"You do have it," he said. "I know you do."
He walked deliberately towards her, but this time, although color still rose in her cheeks, she didn't try to move away from him.
"You have it," he said again. "The only question is—"
(do you think this dress is nice)
(gloating; she'd been gloating; she'd been playing with him; there was no other reason for her to ask him what he thought of her dress.)
"—where did you put it?"
...to be continued.
notes: Knife laws vary from state to state. Fanon has Metro City in Michigan, where, during the time that this story is set (pre-2010), certain knives like switchblades were illegal, but butterfly knives were not.
Day 18 of my Birthday Fic Month! And day 7 of the Megamind tumblr Valentine's Week event! The prompt used was 'we're NOT dating'.
I hope you all liked the update!