AN: This was inspired by the No You Can't forum's suggestion of looking into Megamind's stay in a hospital- during the fight with Tighten, he was unable to get up and had to drag himself across the ground to get to where he needed to go. That indicates that he got hurt pretty bad, to which this is my response.
And to clear up confusion, the title comes from the slang for the Intensive Care Unit in a hospital.
It looked like a prison, if prisons were decorated by Martha Stewart. Harsh angles, sterile white walls, with the occasional 'homey' touches here and there to keep the inmates from going entirely mad and starting a riot.
Though here the word for 'inmates' was 'patients'.
This sort of task was typically taken care of by Minion, but as his suit was in a regrettable state of repair and the spare was still malfunctioning, it became necessary to find other sources of assistance. Not that he needed it.
In fact, if he'd been able to stand up straight after the adrenaline wore off, he would have insisted that there was absolutely no need for the ambulance that came to pick him up. If he'd had the strength left in him he would have resisted vehemently against the prospect of being strapped to a gurney, and the undignified of being carried around like an invalid.
Hell, if he hadn't lost consciousness within minutes of entering the ambulance, he would at least have offered some witty one-liners for their trouble.
He came to now and again, to see doctors hovering over him and muttering things about hairline fractures in the cranium and twisted ankles and internal bleeding. At least they thought it was internal bleeding. More than once he half-felt the prick of a syringe as blood was drawn for more extensive testing—to see if he could accept donated blood, to see if it would react with antibiotics and painkillers, to see if there was anything dangerous or toxic within the blood itself that the doctors had to be aware of.
These were terms of science. More biological than mechanical, as was his expertise, but the logic and familiarity of it was oddly soothing to Megamind as he drifted in and out of consciousness. It was definitely better than that heart monitor that they'd strapped him to, or the gaggle of panicking nurses that preceded the discovery that such a quick pulse was perfectly normal for his species, thank you very much.
All in all, it took about twelve hours for him to feel rested enough to open his eyes.
"Megamind?" was the first thing he heard, though it didn't take him any time to recognize the voice. "Minion, he's awake!"
"Sir!" came the second voice, accompanied by a splash. And now the patient in question was wet. Lovely. "How are you feeling sir? Is your bed comfortable enough? Is there anything I can do?"
Megamind had neither the heart nor the stamina to point out that there wasn't much Minion really could do from a little glass fishbowl beside his bed. Roxanne was close by, leaning on the cot with both hands to get a closer look at him.
Wow, she was pretty. For some reason that thought made him giggle a little bit, but the sudden pain in his chest made that stop pretty quick. The subsequent coughing fit really didn't detract from the discomfort, but he didn't get nearly as much of a choice in that matter.
"Ow," he managed to say when the hacking coughs finally subsided. His voice sounded hoarse and thin.
"I guess that answers your question, Minion," Roxanne said gently. The fish wiggled uneasily in his little bowl.
"I really…" Megamind tried to clear his throat, narrowly avoiding a second coughing fit as he did. "I really got my butt kicked, huh?"
"A little," Roxanne conceded. She reached out and lay her hand on an unbruised portion of his head. His eyes drifted shut, appreciating the feel of her skin on his. "You did a pretty good share of kicking yourself, you know."
"Naturally," he said, though the declaration was a sad shadow of his usual bravado. She leaned in further and placed a kiss against his lips—expertly avoiding the tender spot where his lower lip had been split. Every inch of him seemed to relax under the pressure of her lips, and a contented little smile was perched on his face when she withdrew.
"You rest up, okay?" she murmured. "Focus on getting better."
He gave the faintest sliver of a nod before he began to drift off again.
Maybe—just maybe—the hospital wasn't all that bad, he decided as he left the realm of consciousness. At least they had decent visiting hours.