AN: For the amazing Harmonic Friction who has now gifted me twice. I have to say that this was surprisingly fun to write. I hope I got the characters right.
Disclaimer: Alas, Syndrome and Mirage don't belong to me. Disney and Pixar are the lucky ones.
He watched her walk by, yet again as she did everyday. What was it about her that made her so irresistible? Her silver hair shone in the afternoon sun, and the crispness of her suit was easily seen. She walked as if a woman on a mission, what this mission was, Buddy did not know, but he wanted to know.
Just then, the beautiful woman stopped in her tracks and looked up to Buddy's office window, she drew her large stylish shades down her nose to see better.
Buddy dropped the blinds. Did she see me? No. Impossible. But then the woman gave a little smirk, as if she could see straight through the blinds and to his rosy cheeks. She waved a little, then pulled her sunglasses up and continued walking.
Buddy straightened his tie and fidgeted with his impeccable suit. Not a thing was out of place. This had to be perfect.
Alert: Target Sighted.
Time to put his plan into action. He pulled his own sunglasses out of his protected pocket and covered his eyes.
Three seconds till contact.
Buddy quickly built up speed, making it appear as if he were in a hurry.
He loosened his grip on his briefcase.
He unlatched his briefcase very discreetly.
Zero. Contact Imminent.
WHAM! Buddy's shoulder hit the beautiful woman's as if it were a semi-truck hitting a Volkswagen beetle.
Buddy's belongings scattered all across the sidewalk and he hurried to pick them up, careful to avoid her eyes.
"Do I know you?" asked the woman, staring at him intently.
"You sure?" Her gaze stayed strong.
"Yup." His cheeks flared a brilliant shade of red. He could feel her eyes studying him as if he were a book.
"Then why did you do that?"
"This." She pointed gracefully to her own blushing cheeks, all the while watching Buddy.
He looked up and smiled. "You're beautiful."
"Syndrome," offered Buddy.
"Syndrome, Syndrome, why does that sound so familiar? Oh yes, I have one. I'm Mirage."
"Obviously." Buddy got up and offered her his hand.
She stared at his hand as if it were some foreign object that could possibly disease her, but she let it slide out of her mind and reached for it anyways. Immediately upon standing she reached for the antibacterial wash in her and rubbed it over her hands. "How's this Saturday sound?" asked Mirage, still rubbing her hands even though the wash had nearly all disappeared.
"What?" asked Buddy taken aback, he wasn't used to not being in control.
Buddy winked and walked into his building. It was his turn.
"See you then," called Mirage as she went on walking.
Saturday came faster than either Syndrome or Mirage could have expected. Syndrome sat under the streetlight, looking quite emo while waiting for the silver haired vixen.
Then there was a sound unlike any other Syndrome had heard. "ROAAAAHR!" He jumped up and looked around into the dark, his eyes unable to adjust. "What the hell?"
Mirage's laughter could be heard throughout the entire street as Buddy looked around wildly. "What's the matter, Syndrome, have some paranoia?
"Not funny." Syndrome finally saw her hair shimmering and gave her the coldest look he could muster.
Her smile immediately dropped and he felt the ice in her stare. She didn't not like being looked at like that.
"Uh, you're beautiful?" suggested Buddy.
Mirage rolled her eyes then grabbed his hand firmly in hers. He couldn't help but notice the silk gloves covering her hands or the bottle of antibacterial lotion making a lump in her pocket. He couldn't help but notice how perfect her eyes were, or how her hair flashed in the light of the streetlamp. He couldn't help but notice her staring back. Staring back at his blaring red hair and his too big chin. He quickly looked away.
"Hey, Syndy!" called Mirage from across the empty robotics museum. It was their fourth date in the past two weeks.
"I told you not to call me that!" shouted Syndrome back to the beautiful woman, who was now all his.
"Fine, oh powerful Syndrome whom I love so much," exaggerated Mirage, "Come here."
Syndrome trudged across the museum floor, pulling himself away from a most impressive robot. "What?"
Syndrome hated when she did this, and she knew it. He rubbed his temples in frustration. "I really hate you."
"I know." Mirage's voice had dropped and sounded very harsh. She gave him that ice dagger look again.
"Sugar, you're cold and it's making me cold!"
Mirage's icy glare passed, as it always did. She laughed, "Don't call me 'sugar', and go get yourself a damned blanket." She returned to examining a large, many legged robot.
For a moment Syndrome just stared at her hair gleaming brightly in the moonlight. At her perfectly shaped body. At her beautiful lips.
"I hate you too," she whispered playfully, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.
Syndrome took a step and closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her hips. "I hate you more."
Mirage kissed him long and hard, and he kissed her back. "I hate you most," she whispered into his ears once they had pulled away.
A shiver ran down Syndrome's spine to feel her surprisingly cool breath upon his neck.
She buried her face in his chest. "I told you to get a blanket."