A/N: Thanks for the reviews and story favs/follows so far, readers! Here is Part II of III. Please 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 - Drakken's Side

Drakken felt his stomach give a nervous tremble as he pulled a black T-shirt over his head. He reached for a pair of dark gray sweats, and put those on, too. He couldn't believe Shego had agreed to teach him how to fight. He couldn't believe he'd actually asked her. He was so not a fighter. Physically, anyway. He could yell and scream all day long, but actually putting his 'dukes up' was not natural to him.

"Why am I doing this?" he muttered to himself as he left his room.

The question was rhetorical. He knew why he had asked Shego: he was trying to restore some normalcy back into their relationship. Things had gotten . . . weird since the invasion and ceremony. He wasn't sure why, but he thought taking an interest in one of Shego's hobbies may start to iron things out.

She was already in the gym when he entered through the double doors. She didn't look up, instead she continued to wrap her hands in black fabric. She was wearing stretchy, black capris, and a black tank top. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun; fly-aways and loose bits held back with a head band. She looked good. She always did. Drakken felt his stomach quiver again as he approached, and she tossed a glance his way.

"Should I do that, too?"

"Sure," and she threw him two rolls of the same cloth.

Drakken jerked forward, grasping at the rolls in a clumsy fashion. As he struggled, a vine burst from underneath the collar of his shirt and deftly caught the wayward rolls. He muttered a thanks as the vine handed him the fabric and retracted. It was things like that: why couldn't she just hand him the swatches? She'd become so standoffish, barely looking at him. Had he done something? He looked down at the black rolls in his hands.

"Erm – How do I – "

Shego abandoned her own hand wrapping and began winding the swatch around his hands without speaking. He felt a flutter in his chest as her skin grazed against his. They were almost feverish in their warmth – a side effect of her powers, he knew. Whenever they had physically interacted, he always became self-conscious and hyper-aware. Did the relative coolness of his skin feel clammy? Did the calluses on his palms disgust her? Did he smell okay? Was he breathing heavily? It felt like he was breathing heavily . . .

She had this effect on him. More so lately. It had begun after the whole cloning debacle – when he realized that he needed her. When she had returned with that orange beefcake in tow, an unfamiliar squeeze of jealousy seized his heart and stomach. Ever since then – after that oaf had been scared away by Drakken's experiments and Shego's temper – the new feeling increased in its prevalence, coming to an anxiety-inducing crescendo during the brief period she had been under the influence of Bortol's mood altering device. Now it was building up again, ever since he'd been abducted a little over a month ago.

"Why do you want to do this, Dr. D?" Shego asked, bored.

Drakken frantically searched his mind for an excuse. "I – er – just thought it might be a useful skill. And if the buffoon can do it – "

He liked her. A lot. He didn't like the word 'crush', it felt too juvenile; but he couldn't come up with a better word to describe the feeling. He didn't think 'infatuation' filled the bill, either. He'd always associated that word with emotions that were fleeting and superficial. It bothered him when he couldn't categorize things. All he knew was that whatever he felt for his sidekick was, at the least, wildly unprofessional. He had felt this way for a while.

"One," Shego cut in, "the buffoon has some mystical monkey bullshit helping him along. Two: He's eighteen, and you're old."

Drakken felt his eyes tick up to the ceiling in annoyance. "I'm not that old, Shego."

There was that, too. It was bad enough that he lusted after a woman that was way out of his league, but she was fifteen years younger than he. He didn't want to come across as a 'creepy old guy'.

"Besides," he continued, "I have these." A blue-green vine emerged out from the hem of his shirt. "I figured this whole plant thing, paired with some fighting skills would make me a formidable opponent." He prayed he sounded sure of himself. Improvisation was not his strong suit.

Shego finished wrapping his hands, sighed, and said, "Alright. Let's do this."

Drakken's vine recoiled back to his person and disappeared. He was beginning to learn how to control and manipulate them better. He hadn't had that ridiculous ring of garish, yellow petals sprout up in sometime. His new power had been quite problematic a few weeks ago.

"Okay, first thing's first," Shego said, spinning around to face him. "Throwing a punch. Get into a staggered stance."

Drakken looked down at his feet. "With my left foot, or my right?"

"You're dominant one is behind you."

He flinched at her acidic tone. Why was she so angry? His question didn't warrant such a hateful inflection. What did he do? Prior to the invasion and ceremony, they had been getting along rather well; great, he would even dare to say – by their standards. Their petty arguments had decreased in frequency, and she had even voluntarily gone to karaoke with him a couple of times. It seemed that they had moved past the unpleasantness of the whole 'Warmonga' incident.

Then the invasion happened, and he was swept up into the Lorwardian spacecraft. Stuck in the brig with Kim Possible, two thoughts consumed him (three, if you counted the shock of being abducted by aliens). The first being would Shego rescue him, or would she leave him like with their last prison stint? Second: would he ever see her again? He had difficulty imagining his life completely void of her. As mouthy, irritating, and insubordinate as she was, she was his best friend; and what was more he had a crush . . . Gah! Stupid word! . . . on her. His heart ached to think that he would never see her again, never hear her again, never feel her too-warm hands again. He whole-heartedly regretted that he didn't have the guts to tell her before.

"You're gonna root you feet firmly into the ground," Shego instructed. "Then you're gonna bring your fists up to protect your face."

He watched as she lifted her balled up hands to her face, and did his best to mirror her.

When he and Possible had managed to escape from their binds, a flame of hope dared to ignite in Drakken's chest. Then he saw her. He barely allowed himself to believe it, his breath sticking to his lungs at the sight of her. Without thinking, he charge for her, calling for her. His arms may or may not have been extended, he couldn't quite remember. His mind had been so fogged with happiness and relief that the memory was nearly irretrievable.

Then he snapped out of it, and hit the breaks. What was he doing? This was Shego! She wasn't a 'hugger'. He quickly turned away from her, muttering something about time.

"Thumbs on top," Shego corrected, stepping forward and taking his hands up in her again. His stomach roiled nervously as she placed his thumbs atop his knuckles. He noticed that her brow crumpled slightly has she fixed his hands, and that she shook herself out as she returned to her stance. His heart dipped. Apparently, she did find him repugnant.

When she regained her footing, he saw that a pink flush had tinged her pale cheeks. It wasn't unlike the one that had spread across her face when one of his vines had drawn her to his side at the award's ceremony. He hadn't meant for it to happen. He was nervous to start with, and when he looked to Shego – who was inarguably stunning in her slinky, green dress – a vine shot from him and pulled her to his side. As if that hadn't been bad enough, the stupid vine saw fit to bloom a silly daisy. He was mortified. All he could do was try to apologetically smile at her. He was stunned (and thrilled) to see her grinning back at him with a genuinely happy expression. To his mind, she had never looked so appealing, so attractive than she did at that moment. The vine unwound from them, and his hand fell to rest on her hip. It was automatic, an accident. And he braced for Shego's retribution, but it never came. She let him keep his hand where it was, or she didn't realize what happened. Either way, he felt a flushing heat rise in his neck, and external noises of reporter's questions and flashing camera bulbs were drowned out by his heartbeat pounding in his head.

"Hands up!" Shego yelled.

The outburst spooked Drakken out of his head, and he accidently punched himself in the face. He yelped and clasped his hands over his nose.

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

"You startled me, Shego!" he yelled back. Shego rolled her eyes, and waited for him to regain his composure.

As Drakken willed the pain deep within the bridge of his nose to subside, he felt he had made the right choice when he had clarified his plants' actions during the ceremony's after party. There was just no way she liked him on the same level he liked her. It wasn't possible. If she did, surely she would've displayed some sympathy to him knocking himself in the face. The way she had nonchalantly shrugged off his explanation for his plant's actions – how it was a fluke, and by no means intentional – and how she had sauntered away only reinforced his suspicions that what he felt for her was his, and his alone. He watched her go, watched how her dress pulled with the sway of her hips, how her hair gently bounced with each step and caught the moonlight. Something like a bowling ball settled in his chest, and he was no longer excited about being recognized as the world's savior.

As the pain in his nose finally began to subside, he noticed that Shego had a strange, glazed look on her face. The pink flush was still settling in her cheeks, and her eyes had turned glassy. He wasn't certain, but it almost looked as if she was holding back tears . . .

"Shego?" he carefully asked. "Are you okay?"

She blinked furiously, and shook her head side to side. When her attention was back on him, she murmured, "Sorry. I spaced out for a second . . . where were we?"

"Fists up," and he showed her.

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

Without warning, her right arm shot forward and Drakken jumped as a second fist threatened his nose.

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

Drakken listened to her. He heard her. He also heard how her voice was becoming tighter, more emotional; like she was on the verge of tears. Drakken looked at her, stunned and confused. He dropped his fists again.

"Shego, are you sure – "

Before he could finish – before he could defend himself – Shego's fist lurched forward again. This time it hit him squarely in the mouth.

A/N: Up next, Kiss with a Fist conclusion. Please leave a review on your way out :)