A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or favorited these lil' dribbles :)

First part in a three part series. Which doesn't technically make this (or the following installments) 'one-shots', but as the scenario was inspired by music, here it is.

Let me clarify that I know nothing, nothing, about fighting – karate, tae qwon do, whatever. So, please forgive any incorrect descriptions or cues. My bad.

Please read and review :)

My black eye casts no shadow

Your red eye sees no blame

Your slaps don't stick

Your kicks don't hit

So we remain the same

Blood sticks, sweat drips

Break the lock if it don't fit

A kick in the teeth is good for some

A kiss with a fist is better than none

- Florence + the Machine, Lungs

Kiss with a Fist - Shego's Side

Shego didn't know how, but Drakken had convinced her to teach him how to fight. She wasn't sure why he felt the need, for the entirety of their professional relationship he had been perfectly content letting her fight his fights for him. Why the sudden change?

She was methodically wrapping her hands in a long, thin swatch of black cloth when Drakken entered the lair's gym. She through him a brief glance before turning her attention back to her hands; her jaw locked.

"Should I do that, too?" he asked, walking up.

"Sure," she replied offhandedly, tossing him two rolls of the same cloth.

He caught them in a fumbling fashion, nearly dropping them several times. A vine shot out and caught and snatched up a wayward roll, and handed it to him. He mumbled a 'thank you', eying the cloth, unsure of how to continue. He looked back to Shego, who had completed one hand and was onto the next.

"Erm –" he uttered. "How do I – "

Without saying a word, Shego took up his hands and quickly wrapped them. "Why do you want to do this, Dr. D?"

"I just thought – er – just thought it might be a useful skill. And if the buffoon can do it – "

Shego fixed cool, green eyes on him, "One: The buffoon has some mystical monkey bullshit helping him along. Two: He's eighteen, and you're old."

Drakken rolled his eyes. "I'm not that old, Shego. Besides, I have these," a vine slithered back out from under his shirt. "I figure this whole 'plant thing' paired with some fighting skills would make me a formidable opponent," he concluded, sounding too confident.

Shego was still unconvinced and unimpressed. She sighed and nearly groaned, "Alright. Let's do this."

Those stupid plants . . .they were one of the many reasons she had sunk into a foul mood as of late.

"Okay. First thing's first: Throwing a punch," she stated, turning to face him. "Get into a staggered stance."

"With my left foot, or my right?" Drakken asked, shuffling his feet.

"Your dominant one is behind," an annoyed edge was sharpening her tone.

That stupid crack that stupid alien through at her on the space ship . . . Drakken's battle mate . . . Pe-shaw. . .

Apparently that was coming true, but only in the most literal of senses. They weren't 'mates' in any other way – no matter what Kimmie thought. He had made sure of that.

"You're gonna root your feet firmly into the ground," Shego instructed, wiggling her heel against the floor. Drakken mimicked her. "Then your gonna bring your fists up to protect you face."

Shego drew her curled hands up to her face in a defensive manner. Again, Drakken copied her, his dark eyes flicking between his own hands and hers.

Despite her clear opposition to Warmonga's and the Princess's jibes, Shego knew there was truth rooted in them – not that she would give them the satisfaction of admitting it. She had been with Drakken for six years (nearly seven!). He had hired her when no one else would. Breaking into the villain business had been harder than she originally anticipated. She found her new boss peculiar and annoying. Those initial reflections had not ebbed, but over the years she had developed an attachment to him that baffled her. She would threaten to leave, but ultimately stayed. She would walk out on him, only to walk back in. There was something about him that she . . . liked. He was her best friend, and she knew she was his.

Slowly, and unknowingly, that attachment transitioned into attraction. Shego wasn't aware of it until that stupid alien entered their lives for the first time. Hearing that Drakken had been broken out of prison and had supposedly found a new sidekick dug at her. Was he really so upset that he had replaced her? She was going to break out of jail! . . . eventually.

Listening to Drakken rant about how much better Warmonga was than Shego bothered her more than she expected. She valued his opinion of her (which came as a shock), and hearing him compare her to the green alien made her stomach drop with hurt and embarrassment. She found herself jealous of how he praised his new henchwoman, how he watched her with wide-eyed amazement.

After that plan had failed, and Warmonga disappeared back into the galaxy, Shego had (for the most part) stayed by Drakken's side. They were even, she figured. He seemed to think so, too. However, she seemed to be unable to squelch the growing feeling of infatuation. She felt a need to prove herself to him. She wanted his attention and admiration. She wanted him to see her.

She tried to ignore it. She never acted on these burgeoning emotions. She tried to play it off as a fluke; an unfortunate side effect of spending too much time together. She knew they spent more time together than employer-employee ever should, but she couldn't think why she hadn't put a stop to it . . .

For another thing, he was so . . . embarrassing, so completely unaware of himself. But even those character flaws (when they weren't at her expense) she found unexplainably endearing.

When Drakken had been floated up to that spaceship about a month ago, a panic unlike anything else had gripped her. She needed to save him. For the next several hours, she ran off of pure instinct: Find Princess, get rocket, board space ship, find Drakken. Which is why when she saw him, she ran towards him, arms extended. Her panic and excitement precluded her from caring about maintaining her aloofness. He was okay. He was okay!

Her heart skipped a beat as he approached her in a similar fashion. But he stopped just short of scooping her up in his arms, his face dropping horrifically. He quickly turned away, and she snapped out of it, distractedly running her fingers through her long black hair. A cold spot pricked her stomach, but she ignored it.

"Thumbs on top, Dr. D," Shego chided.

She broke her stance, reached forward, and extracted Drakken's thumbs which were wrapped under his fingers. Coming into his personal space and touching him sent an unwelcome ripple of nervousness down her spine, and she felt that dreaded cold spot return. She withdrew quickly.

Then they had saved the world. He had succeeded, and his confidence about the whole thing was obnoxious . . . and sexy. The awards ceremony was next.

That stupid awards ceremony . . .

It weighed heavy on her already scant patience. What was most frustrating about it was it had the potential to be such a wonderful moment, too. Leave it to Drakken to fuck it up.

A newly acquired botanical appendage reached for her, snaked around her slender waist, and drew her into his chest. Drakken looked at her, a surprised, bashful, goofy smile spreading across his face. She looked up at him, an uncharacteristically demure grin molding her lips.

This feels nice. This feels . . . right.

The vine uncurled, releasing her, but was soon replace by Drakken's hand resting atop her hip. Butterflies fluttered furiously in her chest, and she leaned against him; cameras flashing erractically around them.

Shego reset herself in her fighting stance and looked at him, hoping her face was remaining neutral. She could feel a flush beginning to rise in her chest and cheeks, and a tightness bind her throat as the memories of the ceremony and after party flickered in her mind.

"Hands up!" she snapped.

While Shego had been adjusting his hands, Drakken's fists had dropped to chest level. He jumped at her outburst and brought his hands up so quickly that he accidently bopped himself in the nose.

"OW!"

"Dr. D," Shego sighed, "it's your opponents job to punch you. If you're gonna beat yourself up, I can't help you."

"You startled me, Shego!" Drakken cried nasally, his hands cupping his assaulted nose.

He approached her later that night during the ceremony's after party. To clarify his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," he began nervously. "I haven't gotten this whole 'plant thing' down yet."

On cue, a ring of yellow petals burst from his neck to frame his face. Groaning, he ripped the them away. Shego smiled.

"It's fine, Dr. D," she snickered.

"I – er – just di-didn't want you to think that I was . . . .coming on to you or something."

"Oh."

"Because that wasn't my intention! The plants just . . . .got away from me," he explained, praying she wasn't mad.

"It's okay, doc," Shego assured kindly. Despite her unruffled answer, that cold spot was taking shape in the pit of her stomach. "I didn't think it was anything like that."

"Good," Drakken sighed, appearing relieved. "I was worried there for a moment."

"No worries, chief," she said, gently knocking her partner on his shoulder as she walked back into the party.

She skirted the floor, wound around partygoers, and found her way to the restroom. She locked the door and stood still for a moment, allowing the cold pit to reach up to her chest. She sank to the floor and cried.

Shego felt herself flush further. How stupid, crying over a man. Not just any man: her dopey, middle-aged boss. How freaking lame was that? Now she was just mad. How could she let him upset her like that? How could he not think of her as more than an employee after all this time?

"Shego?" Drakken asked nervously. "Are you okay?"

Shego blinked. She shook her head and mumble, "Sorry. I spaced out for a sec . . . Where were we?"

"Fists up," he answered, showing her that he had lifted his hands back to the appropriate spot.

"Right. So, you wanna punch with your dominant hand. It's back farther than the other in this stance, so you're gonna be able to build more momentum and power behind it."

She shot her right arm forward, and Drakken jumped as her fist came a mere couple inches from his face.

"The drawback is just as important," she continued, pulling her arm back to its starting position. "Your hit will generate even more force if you retract quickly. I know that sounds weird; but, if your hand lingers in the strike, the more likely you will hurt yourself."

The more Shego spoke, the more frustrated she felt herself becoming. She heard her voice involuntarily becoming higher as her throat constricted. Why didn't he like her the way she liked him? She couldn't believe this idiotic attraction was only on her end. Was he really so oblivious as to why she went to space to find him? Did he not see that she ran towards him with open arms intentionally? Did he not know that when she didn't push away from him – when she leaned into him – that she was sending him a signal? Even after weeks of remaining in the lair with him despite the lack of nefarious activity was a sign? Did he not realize how lucky he was to have her? She could have anyone!

He was such an idiot.

An idiot she wanted to know in a different way now.

Anger was building in her and a familiar pulsing heat was twitching the muscles in her forearms, hands, and fingers. She was beginning to shake as she stared into his face, his stupid blue face. His stupid, increasingly appealing, blue face.

She didn't realize that she'd been silent for far too long. Drakken looked over his knuckles, worried. He lowered his hands and asked, "Shego, are you sure – "

He was cut off by Shego's fist slamming into his mouth.

A/N: Next up: Kiss with a Fist - Drakken's Side