So I wrote this on lunch breaks over the course of the past week and a half, so it's very rough and largely unedited. At some point I'd like to come back and flesh out the feels a bit and make it…well…better. Because frankly I am not particularly proud of this, but it's not awful. And it's Wayne and Minion being dorks at each other, and who doesn't love that?

I'm interested to hear your thoughts on this one. Just a little slice of life, a look at what's going on in Metro City. I might possibly write another little something about what Sundown is doing, but possibly not. We shall see. :)

Whatever you celebrate, wherever you are, I hope you are safe and happy.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Bright. That's Minion's first thought upon awakening. Wherever he is must have a lot of windows, because as soon as his eyes pop open he's half-blinded for a good few seconds while he tries to blink the sunspots from his vision and focus.

He's never mastered the art of waking up slowly. Megamind claims this is a disadvantage, and Minion supposes he agrees; if he were to wake up in an unfriendly location he would have no chance of overhearing any information while pretending to sleep. But this isn't an unfriendly location, this is Wayne's penthouse, and it's hard for Minion to imagine a friendlier location than that.

He's tempted to roll over—in a manner of speaking—and go back to sleep, but he shakes himself instead and opts to finish his Christmas shopping. Though it's not so much shopping as wrapping, and even that is a bit of a stretch. Deeds works, he decides after a few seconds' thought. Christmas deeds. Whatever the word, he ends up in front of Wayne's computer, quietly and busily bypassing its limited security.

He's not particularly bothered by the idea; he does this sort of thing for Megamind all the time, so when Wayne's groggy voice sounds behind him, a mumbled "What're you doing?" Minion doesn't jump or stammer or act as if what he's doing is wrong at all. He doesn't even turn around; he just says, "It's Christmas. Don't look."

Lady Scott claimed the penthouse's only livable bedroom. The other rooms are covered in dust and bedsheets and nobody felt like cleaning last night, so Wayne is currently still mostly asleep on the futon in the living room. It looks pretty comfortable as futons go, but Minion hadn't cared to bother with lying down so he'd spent the night propped up in a corner, asleep in his castle. He'd been amused and completely unsurprised to discover that Wayne snores to wake the dead, but if there's one thing Minion is good at it's tuning out rhythmic sounds—he gets a lot of practice, with the hum of the reactors that power the Lair constantly in the back of his hearing.

The ex-hero sniffs sleepily and slurs out, "Mkay. Don' look in my pictures."

"I won't."

There's the sound of a large body shifting and resettling, and then everything is quiet again. He must have gone back to sleep, which is surprising considering how private he is and how little reason he has to trust Minion. After all, prior to Megamind's vacation with Roxanne and Minion's subsequent extreme boredom pushing him to go bother the only other person who might not completely freak out at the sight of him, he and Wayne had spent their lives being barely civil to each other. They'd been enemies, even. Minion has every reason to want to hurt Wayne, and they both know it. One week of friendly contact is not enough to change that, or so Minion had thought.

He chalks Wayne's lack of suspicion up to being one of those stupid decisions people make when half-awake. Then again, he isn't certain that what he's doing isn't also the result of a similarly half-awake decision. But it's too late now; the file transfer only took a few seconds and, whoops! he's logged off.

He quickly closes the laptop and turns around before he can change his mind, although that isn't likely to happen. Truth be told, he'd been intending to do this last night before Lady Scott surprised them both by arriving home early. Minion has been considering this for some time and he came prepared, which is good because otherwise he would have had to try logging into his own computer remotely from Wayne's MacBook. He's not sure that would have been possible. Apple products are not his forte.

The last thing he'd expected to do was spend the night. That really threw him for a loop; Christmas time is family time. It's part of the reason why he and Megamind have always pointedly ignored this holiday—they're family enough for each other, and they're grateful for each other, and why should today be any different?

Also, the background radiation of family togetherness is deeply painful for both of them, considering when they crashed to Earth and what they were fleeing. Minion's memory isn't as complete as his friend's, but he remembers bits and pieces of empty space, people screaming, sirens. The fragmented picture he has of the destruction of their world is almost more disconcerting than a complete memory would be.

He crosses over to the huge windows that line the far wall, staring out at the cityscape and feeling supremely out of place. The extreme emphasis on being home for Christmas has only ever alienated him. The emphasis on family is depressing. He and Megamind have never had any reason to celebrate, so they've never bothered, and now here he is surrounded by it.

When Wayne asked yesterday about Christmas trees and ornaments and did Minion have anything he'd like to hang on the tree, Minion had been completely baffled. It was Wayne's tree, not his. Wayne's and his mother's, and this was going to be a very special reunion so why would anything of Minion's be anything but an intrusion? Let alone Minion himself.

Well, at least he knows he'll be able to make himself useful. The fridge is well-stocked and Minion can cook breakfast before he goes. That will be a decent way to thank Sally for her hospitality, he reasons, because he's really not sure whether she wants him there or because of the cultural emphases on not being alone and charity that are so pervasive around this holiday. Because—well, there's just no reason for him to be welcome. This isn't his life. He's an intruder here.

And what's worse, he's intruding on Christmas, but—they did ask him to, and they didn't seem like they were just being polite. He knows Wayne wasn't just being polite because Wayne hasn't been 'just polite' about anything in his life as far as Minion can tell, but he also knows Wayne wasn't looking forward to the approaching conversation with his mother and didn't want to be left alone with her.

No, screw breakfast. He's leaving now, before this gets any weirder. He pushes the balcony door open to get to the hoverbike, which is covered up but parked outside since he'd have been hard to explain to the doorman. But the door hasn't been used in ages and of course the hinges squeak horribly. Wayne jumps and snorts and rustles around in the blankets behind him.

"What? Where're you—Minion?"

Fish cakes. He stops with the door half-open, wishing he could just make his escape and leave, wishing his host couldn't fly after him if he wanted to. "I'm going to head out," he says quietly, half-turning. "Have a good holiday, I—"

"Hey, uh, can you do me a favor and just take two steps to your left." Wayne shoves himself onto his elbows and peers at him, squinting because the sun is in his eyes.

Minion shakes his head. "No, I should really get going."

"C'mon, I know you got nowhere to be." Wayne yawns hugely and scrubs a hand back through his tangled hair. He needs a shower and his face is creased from where he'd been lying in the pillows. He's never looked less like Metro Man, and Minion has to stifle a snort. "C'mon," he says again, oblivious to the fact that there's one tuft of hair sticking out almost horizontally from the side of his head. "Stay here. It's Christmas."

Yes, it is Christmas, and that's exactly why Minion can't stay. "But I don't belong here," he grouses. "Your mother isn't going to be happy when she wakes up and finds me out here."

"Yeah she will. She asked you to stay, she wants you here as much as I do. Well, probably not as much as I do." He blinks, frowns, grimaces. "Fun fact, I'm kind of a dumbass before I've had a shower."

Minion barely hears him. "That's not the point," he hisses, trying to keep his voice down so as not to wake Sally up—they all had a late night and she's still far from fully recovered. "It's Christmas, it's…time for family."

"Oh. Oh." Wayne sits up and stretches, completely unaware that it makes him look very briefly like a statue of a graying, scruffy Hercules, then flops bonelessly sideways and crosses his arms over the back of his head. "Lord, save me from the socially oblivious. Okay. Okay okay. Minion." He sits up and swings his feet onto the floor, elbows on his knees. "I want you here. Okay? And I guarantee you, if my mother wanted you to leave? she would have made a polite but very obvious dismissal of you last night. She's really good at that."

Minion scowls at him. This still isn't making any sense. "You wanting me here doesn't change the fact that I shouldn't be here."

Wayne gapes at him, looking inexplicably stung. "Uh, yes it does." He's staring at Minion like he's sprouted a second head. "That's the whole point."

That hurts. He's not sure why it hurts, but for some reason knowing Wayne wants him here badly enough to stand his ground and argue feels like he's swallowed a rock. He can't just walk out now—you don't just walk out on a conversation; Megamind does that sometimes and it's infuriatingly rude. Still, he's tempted. "But I don't belong," he insists. "I'm flattered, Mr. Scott, I really am, but I don't belong here and I shouldn't be here and—"

"Hey, whoa, whoa." Wayne stands up, abruptly concerned; Minion looks like he's about to break and run. "Take it easy. You don't have to stay the whole day if you don't want to, but you could—"

"Why are you trying to keep me here?" Minion demands, indignant. "I don't have to stay at all, I can leave right now! You stay away from me," he adds in a warning tone as Wayne takes a step forward.

Wayne stops moving immediately. "Minion, I want you to think and I want you to ask yourself if I would ever try to make you do anything," he says in a low voice. "I don't even know if we're friends or not, but…ugh, never mind." He shakes his head and sighs. "Anyway. At least let me give you your present before you go."

Minion blinks. "My what?"

Wayne shuffles over to the tree and scuffles around under it for a moment, then comes up with a small package. "It's Christmas, dummy. Here, catch—actually no, don't, it's kind of fragile." When Minion doesn't move, Wayne scowls at him. "Dude, seriously, just come over here. The door isn't going anywhere."

He's right, Minion is being stupid. It's just that this is all so weird that he's having a hard time figuring out how he's supposed to react. He shakes himself and clanks over towards the tree—it really is a massive tree, it's a good thing they put those extra stabilizers on the trunk.

The wrapping on the small box isn't particularly good. There's a lot of tape involved, which makes finding an edge difficult for Minion because his metal fingertips are rounded; he doesn't have anything like fingernails. He could, in theory, scrape it against one of the dials on his suit, but Wayne said it was fragile and he doesn't want to break it. "Um," he mutters. "Just—give me a second—"

"You want any help?"

"I want fingernails," Minion grumbles. If he were human his ears would be on fire.

"What luck, I have ten," Wayne says easily, reaching forward. "Here, let me."

Minion freezes. Wayne is big, much bigger than anybody else Minion has ever come in contact with, and in close proximity like this he's honestly a little bit alarming. But all he does is hook his thumbnails under a thin paper edge and tear a little bit free, then shove his hands under his arms and step back again. "There, can you get that? Sorry, I tend to go overboard with the tape."

"It's hardly your fault my hands lack edges," Minion points out, but Wayne just snorts.

He makes relatively quick work of the rest of the wrapping, mystified and unaccountably excited. He and Megamind have never really done presents. This is new. This is new. Maybe he could stay for a little while. A present? Wayne got him a present.

He pulls the lid off the box and then snorts with laughter. "Oh, it's—pfff. You're awful." It's an ornament, a flat squarish thing depicting a trout jumping over a net, with the words 'you're quite a catch' scrawled across the middle. It's exactly the kind of thing that shouldn't strike him as being quite as funny as it does—since he's technically not a fish and Wayne knows it, and he knows Minion hates being addressed as a fish—but he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, trying to hide a smile and failing utterly. "I don't have anywhere to put it, though. I don't have a tree."

"Yeah, I know. Thought this might give you a head start on next year." Wayne pauses. "You could, uh. You could hang it on mine for now, if you want."

Minion grins at him. "Mr. Scott, just what are you implying?"

It's Wayne's turn to roll his eyes. "That I want you to hang out for a while, the hell d'you think?" He raises his eyebrows. "At least until breakfast. I'm making bacon. Also, my name is Wayne. Minion, I'm not telling you again."

Minion hesitates. He loves bacon. "You're making?"

"Spinach, feta, and tomato omelettes with bacon on the side. Sort of a tradition with us." He chuckles at Minion's dumbfounded expression. "What? So I can cook. What are you gonna do, go home and be bored and lonely all day?" Minion opens his mouth to respond, but Wayne suddenly cuts him off. "And what did you do to my computer? Did I dream that?"

"No, I…I put music on it." He's not expecting Wayne to fall back a step and cock his head at him. "What?"

"What kind of music?"

Minion shrugs furry shoulders. "Different kinds. Mostly rock. What?" Because Wayne is still staring at him.

"Nothing, just…thanks! Thanks, Minion." It's surprising and…sort of touching, really. He hadn't been sure Minion even liked him that much, but things like mixtapes and playlists take time and thought. He must think better of Wayne than the latter realized. "I can't wait to see what's on it. Now fire up the stereo, let's get some Christmas tunes up in here. C'mon, you mind helping me chop stuff?"

"Sure," Minion agrees, shaking his head. He has to take a minute to figure out all the buttons and dials—the sound system display isn't set up the way he would have organized it, but it's not completely counterintuitive. He frowns. "Or I can wash the spinach if you want, Mr. Scott, I don't mind."

Wayne sighs loudly. "Minion, it's Wayne, for God's sake. You're doing it to annoy me, aren't you." He doesn't mind as much as he claims, but it still sounds odd. At least Minion isn't calling him 'Lord,' though. He's not sure he could deal with the honorific.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light—

"And behold my success," Minion murmurs as holiday carols fill the penthouse and he straightens. He still feels like he should probably go, but…well, what the heck, why not? He'll stay for a bit and leave later. Much as he hates to admit it, Wayne has a point. It's not like he's going home to anything particularly interesting, and the company here is…unexpectedly good.

He may as well stick around a while longer. Next year all our troubles will be out of sight.

It's winter in Michigan. Outside, snow is starting to fall in big puffy clumps that promise to stick, and the covered hoverbike is soon doubly blanketed with a layer of white. Somewhere, a man in a bloodstained flannel shirt is on the prowl, smiling with too many teeth. Somewhere, sometime soon, there will be blood. The internet is alive with buzz about the photos of Megamind and Roxanne at a holiday party in California. These calm days won't last much longer.

But Minion is safe inside, washing spinach at the sink and laughing at Wayne's horrible singing. Halfway through the song, Lady Scott comes slowly out of her room wrapped in a housecoat and adds her rich alto to Judy Garland's mezzo soprano.

Faithful friends who are dear to us
Will be near to us once more.
Someday soon we all will be together,
If the Fates allow.
Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow,
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now...

And of course they will muddle through, because what choice do they have? But, Minion thinks, watching Wayne humming at the stove and his mother singing by the tree, I seem to have found decent people to muddle with.