Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to Megamind. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction. The summary is a joke nicked from Shrek; if you've seen the gag karaoke ending, you get it. The title, Moving So Gracious, is from the song "Big and Chunky" by Will I Am, and the subtitle for this part, "And I Don't Hardly Know Her," hails from the song "Crimson and Clover" by Tommy James and Peter Lucia, Jr. (Flash Fact: My favorite cover of "Crimson and Clover" is by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.) I don't own any of that, either.

This is a five times fic, specifically: five times Megamind checked out Roxanne's derrière. Much like Tina Fey, I love that Roxanne has short, brown hair and an ample can.

This particular piece is set early in Megamind and Roxanne's professional supervillain and kidnapee relationship.

Moving So Gracious
And I Don't Hardly Know Her

Chatter rose to fill the arches of the ceiling and the vast spaces between. Voluminous though the ballroom in scope and scale, the crowd of men and women in glittering dress and gown filled it so walking between the tables was a fool's errand at best. Megamind sent Minion off to procure drinks and maintained court at their own table. The ring of empty chairs tucked neatly about the table proved a dissatisfactory audience. He fiddled with one of the forks, plucking at the tines, and thought of his lair, quiet and dark and cool.

Megamind set the fork down. Where was Minion with the drinks? Forget socializing; that was a bust. Drinks, then they'd raid the buffet. God, he hoped there was a buffet. He didn't think he could handle the inanity of a sit-down dinner in such snooty company. He eyed a rather brightly bejeweled woman standing nearby. Perhaps a little robbing, too.

"What are you doing here?"

He started, cracking his knees on the table. The fork jumped and fell, ringing as it struck the polished floor. Roxanne Ritchi towered over him, her small mouth a pursed bow. She held her handbag as if it were a sword.

Megamind rubbed at his knees and said, "I'm sitting, Miss Ritchi. It's the latest craze."

She swept her shaped bangs back from her eyes. Beneath the shimmering light of the chandelier, her hair, long and coiled at the back of her head, shone a dark and burnished red.

"Why are you here?" She enunciated slowly, punctuating each word with a sharp, staccato pause.

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers at his breast. "Oh, didn't you know? I'm good friends with the chairman. You know us innovators, we're such a close-knit group. A goggle of pals."

"Gaggle," she said, "and you don't have pals. Unless you mean your little robot friends." She glanced over her shoulder, then she looked back to him, her eyebrows crooked. "And I don't see them here."

"I do have an invitation," he offered. He reached into his studded jacket and withdrew a corner of the envelope. Certainly it was forged, but what Roxanne Ritchi didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"There is no way that's a legitimate invitation," she said.

"Oh, it's very legitimate, I assure you," he said. He drew the envelope out and presented it with a flourish. The seal was his masterpiece, so beautifully designed. He'd copied it, of course, but still he rather liked it.

Roxanne bent over him. Her eyes narrowed. She'd worn a wine red gown, cut low and square across her breasts, and against that deep shade her eyes showed a pale blue.

"Let me see that," she said. She reached for the envelope.

"Oh, no," he said quickly, "I don't think so." He slipped the envelope back into his pocket. "You'd probably just steal it and try to get me thrown out. I didn't think you would stoop so low, Miss Ritchi," he tsked.

She gave a gasping laugh, a sort of incredulous "Ha!" and straightened. A wisp of hair fell against her cheek and impatient, she brushed it away.

"Not everyone is as petty as you are, Megamind," she countered.

"I'm not petty," he said, "I'm evil. There's an important difference. One is dignified, distinguished, the other..." He gestured, calling for the word. "Juvenile."

"Mm, that last one," she agreed. "That sounds about right."

"And what of you, Miss Ritchi?" he shot back at her. "What brings you to this gala event?"

He took in her dress: deceptively simple, but cut to hug her curves, of which she had many, and to hang in clinging lines. She stood very near to him. Megamind looked away, as if to search the crowd.

"I'm not interrupting a hot date, am I?"

She parried: "Why would you want to know?"

He looked back to her, standing there resplendent. She'd a freckle at the corner of her mouth. He hadn't noticed that before.

"I'd just hate it if something awful were to ruin your date," he said.

"Well, I'm not on a date," she said lightly, "so you don't have to worry about me."

"Then I won't," he said. Even to him it sounded weak. He recovered. "Now if you don't mind, Miss Ritchi, I'm very busy."

She considered the empty table, the immaculate places set at even intervals about it, the chairs so nicely positioned. Megamind attempted to look very important and very disinterested.

"I can see that," she said, very drily.

She took a step nearer and leaned toward him. Her necklace, a silver chain strewn with gleaming drops, swung out over her breasts.

"I know you're planning something," she told him. "And I'm going to figure it out."

"Oh, are you?" he murmured.

Roxanne smiled, a narrow, certain smile that drew one corner of her mouth high. She brought her handbag up, tossing it between her hands, and walked off. Her heels clacked a steady rhythm on the floor. The sleek fabric of her dress shimmered, clinging to her heavy backside; her skirt shivered along her thighs as she vanished back into the crowd.

"Was that Miss Ritchi?"

Megamind turned, dropping his hand. Minion held out a glass. The wine shone, a deep red.

"It's always nice to see someone you know at a thing like this," Minion said happily.

"Minion, change of plans," Megamind said. He snatched the wineglass from Minion. "We're staying."

"Wait," Minion said. "We were leaving?"

"I just had the most interesting discussion with Miss Ritchi," Megamind informed him, "and I'd hate to disappoint her." He drained the glass and set it down, then he made a face, scraping his tongue between his teeth.

"Sir," Minion said plaintively, "I thought we were going to take tonight off. Remember? To recoup?"

"Yes, yes, I remember." Megamind waved him off. "And what better way to recuperate from our losses than to rob everyone here blind?" He turned to Minion. "Well?"

Minion sighed and sank low in his bowl. His robot avatar shrugged. "Yes. You're right, sir."

"Ha!" Megamind rose from his chair, spinning it away. He grinned fiercely at the milling crowd, so unsuspecting, so stupid. "If Miss Ritchi wants bad, then I'll give her bad."

"You're very bad, sir," Minion said.

"Yes," Megamind said, preening, "I am."

And oh, how self-righteous Roxanne would be when he turned this stuffy soiree into a real show, how she would shout. He could hardly wait to find out what she'd throw at him. What a fun evening this was turning out to be, he thought; and he laughed.