Disclaimer: "Megamind" is owned by Dreamworks. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.
Note: This fic was titled after the Katy Perry song 'I Kissed A Girl'. Inspiration came directly from me hearing the song play and thinking, "What if Roxanne explored her sexuality?" This came of it. . . Don't say I didn't warn you.
Additional Note: Thank you, Gerald, for that lovely, inspiring bit of review. It has inspired me to make a fanart regarding the passionate scene of this fic, to which I now humbly offer my readers to view: http :/ /dragonslover 1. deviantart. com/ art / Kissed-A-Girl-189928326 (Remove the spaces after copy'n'pasting the address.)
Kissed A Girl
Metro Man this; Metro Man that. Roxanne scowled at her coworkers. When would they shut up? This was getting ridiculous.
They had a bad habit of questioning her for every little detail of her kidnappings, and continuing to do so long after said kidnapping took place. This latest one involved Megamind suspending her upside-down from a hook in a meat-processing plant (and really, just how many abandoned buildings were there in Metro City for him to inhabit a new one twice a month?) and then starting the track to lead her to certain doom. Or rather, to her finely-processed base components.
Metro Man had her secured before the track had been moving for five seconds, and Megamind had clearly stated that, from her place in line, it would have taken two minutes for her to end up as chopped liver. Which was good, she supposed; she'd never admit it to him, but this particular kidnapping had freaked her out. The idea of becoming the 'ham' part of hamburger had left her wishing for a swift end to his plot.
Not that she didn't often want a swift end; it was just rare for her to think the words, "Please, please, please, Metro Man - get here soon!"
Even the retelling of her report on camera had left her a little shaken, and though she knew Megamind would have picked up on it, she also knew he wasn't the type to try the same things twice. She'd be safe from that particular method for the rest of her life, at least.
But now here she was, bored, finished with her work and trying to keep her coworkers at bay until the minute hand reached the twelve. Two minutes to go. She sighed.
"But, like," Gina began, "it must've been terrifying! A meat grinder! He was gonna throw you in a meat grinder!"
Roxanne had officially stopped trying to correct their assumptions. He wasn't 'gonna throw' me anywhere; I was on a track. And it's not a meat grinder per se. She replied, "Yep, that was the plan," in a dull, I'm-not-amused voice.
"And you're totally not freaking out at all?"
I freaked out a little on the scene. . . "That was two weeks ago." Which reminded her, it was about time for him to show up again. . .
And begin their little dance anew.
Don't get her wrong. She rather enjoyed (secretly) the whole complicated plots. It added a thrill to her life, excitement to an otherwise boring existence. Between getting nabbed by a supervillain and saved by a superhero, her life was, ultimately, full.
Except in the romance department. She sighed again.
Being Metro Man's girlfriend meant no other man in the city was willing to woo her. Even if she laid down some pretty thick hints (and she had, repeatedly) they'd just turn her down. It was to the point where she was considering asking women on dates, just to have someone there.
And why not? Like everyone else, she'd experimented, tested her own sexuality. She'd discovered that romances with women were pleasant, though not enough to get her really riled up. Of course, that could mean she just hadn't found a particularly sensual woman. It was common enough to not realize one's own sexuality until a sufficient companion had been found, after all.
The problem with that theory was that she had discovered her sexuality. She was hetero, with maybe the slightest inclination towards bisexual. Enough that the thought of engaging in any kind of romantic or sexual activity with a woman wouldn't scare her, but not enough to make her really want to go out of her way for it.
Still, she needed someone, she admitted to herself. Someone who could stimulate more than her nerves, someone who excited her in a way that had nothing to do with electric rays or being carted around by a flying man. She needed someone to make her feel like more than an object to be taken, a means to an end, or a middleman to get to the city's protector.
Most especially, she needed someone who wouldn't be afraid of Metro Man's (nonexistent) possessiveness.
A vision of Megamind came to mind, but she pushed it away. Even if she wanted him, she doubted it would happen. Besides which, her thoughts up till this point included an object to be taken, and he, more than anyone else in the city, viewed her as such. No, she told herself; Megamind was an impossibility.
What did that leave, though? And better yet, what was she desperate enough to go for?
When she saw it was time to punch out, she rose, ignoring further questions with a curt, "I'm heading home." No one protested as she left, and she was used to this, too. They all assumed she was going home to meet up with Metro Man, and of course, no one would ever dare get between the two.
It was only between her boss and herself that she and Metro Man had never been a couple. They were playing up a nonexistent relationship for ratings. Best of all, she had no choice in the matter, if she wanted to remain as the star reporter. They wouldn't fire her, but they would demote her to desk work.
More and more she was beginning to conclude that it would be worth it to end the farce.
Upon leaving work, she stopped at her apartment, a plan forming. A part of her was waiting to be snatched up again before the night was out; another part was hoping he'd hold it off for another day or so. Freaking Megamind - and freaking Metro Man, for that matter; they both had a hand in the ruined scraps of her social life.
In her apartment, she showered and dressed in a somewhat scanty dress. Her favorite was the little red dress lacking straps that hugged her generous curves and fell to her knees, but that's because the material was just a tad shiny, and she loved attracting attention to herself. Just like someone else you know, her mind supplied, and she scowled.
No Metro Men or Megaminds tonight, please, she told herself. No, what she wanted was to meet someone who wouldn't know her or her relationship with Metro Man (impossible!) and have a good, old-fashioned make-out session. Something to tide her over until she had a good relationship going.
So she chose her trademarked little black dress, the obligatory one every woman had and wore when she wanted to feel good about herself. The neck was a low 'v' that accented her bust, curving low. The straps were almost off-shoulder, and while wide at the shoulder, they were much more narrow where it stitched into the dress. Both sides of the skirt were slit just a few inches high, and the skirt itself reached halfway down her thighs.
She added in thigh-high nylons, painted her nails a matching black, and then strapped on her flirtiest strapped heels, open-toed and open-heeled on stiletto points. Not good for dancing, but definitely good for catching stray eyes.
After styling her hair a little more to clear up her face, she put on dark mascara and eye shadow, put on her most devilish blood-red lipstick, put dangling, swirling gold chains in her ears, and considered herself a job well-done. Like this, she probably wouldn't even be immediately recognized as Roxanne Ritchi.
And even if I was, she consoled herself with a smirk, admiring her reflection, I could just say to hell with them. It's my Friday; I can have fun if I want.
The entire endeavor lasted until almost eight, including the time in the middle she spent having dinner (before the makeup was applied) and then she was heading downstairs. She hailed a cab and headed for a nightclub she rather enjoyed. It played music she liked, served drinks she liked, and was clean, lacking any troublesome drug-addicts. The bouncers were also quick to move, throwing out drunks or miscreants within a moment's time.
In other words, a safe place to play at.
She still had mace in her purse regardless.
When she reached the club, the line wasn't terribly long for a Friday evening (which was probably because the evening was still young). Her place as a regular patron and her stardom granted her quick access once a bouncer - Dominic in particular - noticed her.
The barkeep tonight was Danny, and he grinned when he saw her.
"Look'it you," he approved, coming closer so he stood across from her seat at the bar. "Looks like you're trying to get a certain someone's attention. Tryin' to incur his jealous wrath?" he teased.
She gave him a weak smile. "For tonight," she replied, "for my purposes, Metro Man does not exist."
Danny barked out a laugh, nodding. "Aye, I believe you're right. So, what'll you have?"
She knew Danny, had known him for a long while, and she knew he didn't say 'aye' because of any ethnicity differences from home-grown Americans. He was just quirky with his words, and every few weeks, he had a new one he liked to use. She also suspected he picked up on the speaking habits of his regulars, but couldn't prove it.
After ordering herself a simple margarita, she surveyed the dance floor. People looking for love danced there, either with partners or alone. Her heels didn't condone dancing, but she'd be damned if she didn't find someone out there who was either willing to overlook or too drunk to notice who she was.
This is stupid, quit being an idiot, her brain chided her. Your plan is to seduce someone who's dead drunk? For a fling? To make out and leave? Where's your sense of self-preservation?
I left it on the meat hook, she replied to herself with dry humor. I'll get it in the morning.
She got several willing partners over the course of the night, who generally introduced themselves by running their hands along her thighs (to which she would reply, "Hey now, no gropes before I know your name,") or winking at her after claiming the seat next to hers. She passed them by for a number of reasons, including the greasy-hair, duct-tape wallet, way too much cologne and not enough cologne excuses. But each time she was turned down, it was for the same revolting reason: "That's Metro Man's girlfriend, Roxanne Ritchi!"
Nearing midnight, she admitted to herself that she was drunk, partially aware that she was swaying as her equilibrium was draining. She didn't much care anymore. She was ready to shout out for someone to pin her to the wall and kiss her breathless. She wanted someone to grope, damn it!
And she finally got her wish when a lovely young woman sat down beside her, watching her with concerned eyes. Instead of immediately addressing her, she turned to Danny.
"Is this Roxanne Ritchi next to me?" she asked.
Danny nodded. "Aye."
". . .Won't Metro Man be pissed that she's here?"
"For tonight," Roxanne threw in, her words slurring just a tad, "for my purposhes, Metro Man does not exisht. . ." She looked up at the other woman, and through the veil that clouded her vision, she saw a blonde with wavy hair that fell beneath her shoulders, blue eyes that were darker than Roxanne's and framed with longer lashes than hers. In short, the woman was beautiful.
"Never say that I was against a little rebellion," the woman stated now, "but that sounds just a little bit dangerous. Metro Man may be all that is good and just, but -"
"There is no Metro Man," Roxanne interrupted, every word clear. "I'm here to have a good time, to maybe even have a fling, and what Metro Man doesn't know can't backfire against me," she reasoned. She wouldn't add that he was also in no place to judge her nightly activities, considering she wasn't his.
More specifically, what her boss didn't know couldn't backfire against her.
The blonde was staring at her.
"What?" she demanded. "Have shomething to say?"
". . .Yeah," the blonde said now, offering her hand. "My name is Beatrix, or just Bee. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ritchi."
Roxanne smirked and took the offered hand, her outlook lifting already.
One a.m. passed, then two, and the duo of ladies spent their time laughing and drinking, getting to know one another. It was fun. But it grew even more pleasant when Bee leaned in, putting her hand on Roxy's knee, and whispered, "I think you're really sexy, Roxy. . ."
Roxanne couldn't help herself from smiling, leaning even closer, and whispering back, "And I think you're gorgeous, Bee. . ."
"Want to know what else?" Bee murmured.
"I. . .really. . .want to make out with you."
Just the words Roxanne had been wanting to hear all night. "Bee, baby, you just made my day," she said with a grin. She didn't address the Metro Man issue; it would just ruin the whole situation.
Besides, Metro Man didn't exist tonight.
"Wanna get out of here?" Bee hinted.
God, yes. "Lead on," Roxanne suggested. To Danny, she added, "Put it on my tab for now - I'll pay the nesht time I'm here."
"No drunk driving," Danny advised.
"That'sh what cabs are for," Roxy pointed out as Bee pulled her to her feet. Danny waved them off as they exited.
They were pawing at each other and giggling like schoolgirls by the time they rounded the first corner. Roxanne was wobbling more than Bee in her stilettos. Once they'd walked and groped for a few blocks, Roxanne pulled off to the side, leaning against a building.
"Wait, wait," she laughed. "These shoes. . .killing me. . ." she managed, leaning down. She teetered as she fought to get the shoes off, and Bee held her steady until the heels were in hand. "Okay," she said, righting herself, "now. . ."
Bee wasn't waiting any longer, it seemed. She lifted Roxanne's hands so they pressed against the wall beside her head, then leaned in and kissed her. And it felt so good to kiss someone again that Roxy dropped her shoes and closed her eyes, kissing back in earnest.
There was a shift and a scrape of shoes and then Bee was fully pressed against her, their fingers intertwining. Down the street, someone hollered, but Roxy couldn't tell if the yell was pointed at them and really didn't much care. From the first press of Bee's sweetly-flavored lips (flavored chapstick? Were her lips a natural pink?) Roxanne no longer cared about her reputations, or the fact that she might ruin them tonight.
She missed this so much. . .
It was her who moved into the kiss more, tilting her head to get a better angle. Bee responded in kind, moving against her till they were undulating against each other. As their mouths met again and again, Roxy had a distinct feeling of a part of her being filled up, a part that had been sadly lacking for a long time now. And it might have been her drunkenness speaking, but she decided she had to have more.
Unlinking their fingers, she sought out Bee's jaw, then her neck, then her sides, all the while moving her head with Bee's direction. When Bee parted her lips to deepen the kiss, Roxy's faint thought was, Oh, yes. She was sent back in her memories when their tongues touched, reliving the first time she'd kissed another woman, and she found herself comparing the two in the midst of the act.
Bee was a better kisser. Hands down.
In fact, she was getting Roxy riled up. So in return she lifted her hands again, ghosted them over Bee's front, and brought them to tangle in Bee's hair, holding the woman close. Finally, finally, finally, someone who wants me, only me. . .
It might have been selfish of her, to take this route, especially when a part of her knew she'd never again give in to this kind of meeting. In all likelihood she and Bee would part and never speak again. She had a great life, making plenty of money, a constant part of city-wide battles (some more impressive than others) and had enough stories by now to retell her grandchildren for the rest of her life. She shouldn't want for anything.
But she didn't care about all that just then. All she cared about was the fact that, thanks to her 'career' and Metro Man, she was sexually repressed when she was, in fact, a very sexual creature deep down.
Bee's hands were roving over her body, making her arch into the touches and give little moans. To be touched - god, to be touched again. . . It was like a shot of ecstasy. The real thing, no less, not the drug; she felt she would have an orgasm any minute.
"Mm, Roxy," Bee murmured when their mouths parted.
Roxy opened her eyes to met the other woman's gaze, knowing her expression was just as desire-ridden as Bee's was. She replied, "Mm, Bee?" in a teasing tone.
". . .I'm not sure where we are," Bee began in slightly slurred tone; she held her liquor better than Roxanne did. "But I want to take you home so bad, Roxy. . ."
Roxy bit her lip. Was she willing to go that far? Yes, she wanted -as the teenagers would label it - to 'get laid', but did she want it with Bee, and bad enough to go to the other woman's abode? She didn't know.
So she replied, tugging on Bee's hair, "Just keep kissing me for now. . ."
They fell back into it, tongues tangling, hands exploring, driving both of them mad. Roxy rubbed her leg against Bee's; Bee rubbed her leg between Roxy's. They'd all but forgotten their place on the public street, beginning to enjoy each other fully. When Bee lifted Roxy's skirt and fingered the skin right above where her thigh-highs ended, Roxy sucked on Bee's bottom lip.
Give as good as you get, was her motto in relationships. Always give as good as you get. Bee's hand palmed Roxy's front, feeling her breast, so she leaned in to suck on Bee's neck. They were driving each other crazy.
There's a first for everything, she thought, deciding. This might as well be my first lesbian encounter that went all the way. . .
But she blacked out before she could say the words. And it really was blacking out, she realized as she woke up, having no recollection of a dream at all. That was odd. Then again, she didn't often get as drunk as she had last night.
Her situation left her completely confused as she realized she wasn't in her bed or - where had she been last?
Her last solid memory was of leaving the club with Bee, the two of them holding hands, their intents with one another clear. Some scattered memories filled the blanks, lovely feelings of fulfillment and pleasure. She could just remember the feel of soft but insistent lips, taste something sweet like strawberries.
Disbelief filtered into her when she realized there were chains around her wrists and ankles, and she was sitting upright in a chair. Oddly she felt her shoes were on, when she had a faint memory of taking them off. Whispering was nearby, one voice agitated, the other, cajoling. A spotlight was directly on her from above, the rest black, and she winced against the light. A headache was flaring to life, and she groaned against the pain.
Hangover. And I've been kidnapped again. Beautiful. She sighed.
The whispering had stopped, and she thought she head a voice murmur, "She's awake. Now, do it now."
Another bright light shot down in front of her, illuminating a shrouded figure of blue and black, before she snapped her eyes shut and hissed against the pain that just exploded in her head.
"Miss Ritchi!" a voice boomed.
"Ay, ay, ay!" she yelled, then winced against the pain. A strangled groan escaped her. "Jesus Christ, I know who you are!" she added more quietly. "God, of all the. . . What'd you do to Bee?" she demanded. She didn't think he would've kidnapped Bee too; probably just knocked her out and left her.
"Oh, your little. . .playmate?" a voice mocked. "Not to worry, she's being. . .well taken care of."
His voice hinted that no such events were taking place.
She squinted open an eye to glare at him as best she could, and caught his look of confusion before he noticed her scrutiny and masked it. "I'm sure," she commented dryly. "Let me guess. Minion took her home?"
"I did, but -" came an easy reply from somewhere to her left.
"Minion!" Megamind hissed, and she grimaced against the sharp sound. "I told y- why does she keep doing that?"
"It's called a hangover you insensitive prick," she bit out. "Just had to ruin my night, didn't you? Had to." She glanced around under her lashes, but the lights were too much, preventing her from seeing much. "You couldn't have waited until tomorrow, when the hangover would fade. Saturdays no good for you, then?"
"Wow. You never talk back this much," Megamind said, his voice a tad stunned. "Minion, what is this hangover she keeps mentioning?"
"It's a happening that takes place directly after getting drunk," Minion explained. "Common symptoms are sensitivity to light and sound, and a headache."
"Migraine," Roxanne bit out in correction. God, how much did she have to drink? She could remember three margaritas before Bee had shown up and started ordering for her. . .and what had she ordered? Roxy couldn't remember. . .
"Oh. Well." Megamind's voice just a little too smug, as if he could use this. He came closer; she could hear his footfalls along with a squeak of wheels, and deduced that he must have taken a seat and begun wheeling himself over. Each scrape of the wheels caused her to wince again.
She was swearing at him in the vilest way she knew how - in her mind. She wasn't stupid enough to really enrage him; who knows what he would do in a blind rage?
"So," he murmured, very close to her now, "I guess. . .that means. . .you're going to be extra cooperative?"
Through the blinding lights, she glanced up to glare at him. "You're suggesting that I act like a real hostage, is that it? Because otherwise, you might say something a little too loudly?" she said, ending with the word loudly on a yell so sharp it made her ears ring.
He backpedaled to get distance, rearing back as if she'd slapped him.
She regretted her words already. Wincing, she pulled back into the chair, yanking on her hands. If only she could hold her head. . . Her eyes were squeezed shut now and she knew her face was pinched with pain.
She heard Megamind give a kind of strangled laugh, then again with more force, until finally he was outright cackling in his evil way. She made an audible sound of discomfort of her own choosing this time, letting him know how unwelcome his laughter was.
She cursed out loud at her own stupidity, dropping her head back. "Jesus - that - ow, ow -" sharp inhilation "- ow. . ." A sharp whine escaped her in time with an extra sharp jab of pain that flitted along her skull, and she turned her head away as if she could actually get away from the ache.
"Minion, dim the lights," Megamind ordered once his chuckles had faded. "I wish to speak with our captive face to face - provided she can open her eyes."
As the piercing light filtering through her eyelids faded, she felt a relief so strong she sighed. "Thank you, Minion," she murmured absently. Lifting her head again, she braved opening her eyes.
Megamind's brow was raised as if judging her, and damn if he didn't look more menacing in the faded light. He steepled his fingers together as he watched her.
"You wanted to talk, as I recall," she prompted. She was willing to play along, too; anything to distract her from the throbbing of her own skull. "Get to it," she said, quirking her brows.
"You look very nice tonight," he observed. "Let me guess. You had a night planned with the perfect hair one? And he left early?"
She rose a brow, then leaned in, as if to reveal a secret. "My life. . .does not revolve around him. I go out when I feel like it, have a good time without him whenever I like."
Megamind looked surprised. "Really?" he checked. "And he lets you do that?"
She shrugged, leaning back. "He can't be around all the time." Not that he would if he could, she added silently.
He quirked a brow. "So. . .you just walk out on him whenever you feel like it, find a woman in a club and engage in reproductive acts without someone with suitable reproductive organs to offset yours?"
"That is the most indirect and detailed rendition of making out I have ever heard," she replied. "The simple way is to say I went out, got drunk, found a beautiful young woman, and we kissed each other senseless on a sidewalk under the streetlights."
His expression slowly changed during her speech, eventually ending on shock. It would appear, she mused, as though her blunt speech - while hangover-inspired - was having quite the effect on him. She made sure to remember this for later.
"And he lets you do this?" he repeated.
She rolled her eyes heavenward, then winced at meeting the glare of the bulb above her. She replied, "Once more, my life doesn't revolve around him."
"But you're his girlfriend," Megamind pointed out. "Aren't you supposed to be. . .I don't know, faithful?"
Oh how badly she wanted to set the record straight, here and now. Instead, she hissed back, "You know what happens when a super like Metro Man has a girl like me? A girl he doesn't give attention to? She wanders off, finds someone who will give her attention. If she has to dress up and find it in a nightclub, then that's what she'll do. No inhibitions. No regrets. It's his loss. If he still wants me," she added for good measure, "he's going to have to learn how to keep me."
She hoped he wasn't anywhere near - nowhere within hearing distance. Which could be; Megamind had the habit of kidnapping her and then waiting for a specific moment before calling Metro Man. Sometimes it was timed, others, he just waited for their banter to fall apart first.
Silence greeted her, and she soaked it up, glad for the reprieve to her ears. But it didn't last forever. At length, Megamind's shocked expression smoothed over and a smirk took its place.
"That's. . .distinctly bad of you, Miss Ritchi," he observed.
She supposed it would sound as much. The disturbing part was that he would actually find this aspect of her attractive, which didn't bode well for her. She'd had a thought or two towards what-would-happen-ifs, and in these instances, she wasn't Metro Man's pretend girlfriend, she was Megamind's real girlfriend. It wouldn't end well, of course; she wasn't evil. She could be somewhat mean, but that wasn't even the same as bad.
She aimed a scowl at him as she replied, "Maybe I find it justified."
"Or maybe you just have a bad streak you weren't aware of, until good was all you had. . ."
His suggestive tone made her lip curl.
"Look here, I'll let you in on a little secret about me," she murmured, leaning in again. This time, he leaned in as well, interest in his green eyes. "The thing about me and Metro Man? It's ruined any possible future relationships I could possibly have. At this point -" time to lie, straight out, Roxy "- I'm only with him because he's my last hope for a solid romance. No other man in his right mind would date me, knowing I'd been with him. And there isn't even the slightest chance I'd consider a man not in his right mind. So that leaves me with pretty slim pickings." Finished, she leaned back. It wasn't all lies, she supposed; that last part was true, about the repercussions of the rumors that she was Metro Man's.
Megamind looked enraptured, taking it all in. Moments passed before he reclined and said, "So that's why you picked a woman? Because she isn't a man?"
"Precisely," Roxy agreed with a nod. "Oh, that and she was seriously hot and I like her."
He rose his brows. "Yes, Minion and I saw how much you. . .liked her."
She frowned. "You saw that, huh?"
He glanced away and back, as if the subject change - though all of his own fault - was making him uncomfortable. "Yes, well. . .you were making quite a scene," he pointed out.
"I wouldn't know. I had my eyes closed through most of it."
"There was quite a crowd gathered. All male, now that I think about it. . ." he started, musing to himself.
"Easy enough to explain," she shrugged. "Men love watching women make out."
Now he glanced at her in confusion. "Why?""
She shrugged. "Part of the male psyche. Wait, you mean, you don't get the urge to watch two women fondle each other?"
His cheeks reddened under the low light and he began fidgeting. "That's. . .a little personal."
"So was your question about what I did tonight," she countered.
"Yes, but I'm in charge of this in-quee-see-shun," he shot back.
"Inquee. . ?" she echoed. "Inquisition?"
"That's what I said," he sighed, exasperated.
"No it isn't. You butchered the word. My god, man, that's syntax genocide!" she gasped in fake horror.
He glared. But almost instantly the look morphed into one of inquiry. "Man? You don't. . ." he scooted closer, "you don't think of me as different from your species?"
"Well, you are different," she answered before she could wonder why he cared, "but not enough to have a different label for your gender." She rose a brow as if proving her point.
This seemed to give him a lot to think about, as he stroked his little goatee, eyes traveling into the shadows somewhere.
"Oh God, what idea did I just give you?" she wondered.
"Just thinking about what you said," he answered in a distracted way.
"And what did I say?" she prodded, having the sudden thought that he wasn't fully aware of her questions anymore. Which means he'd give answers without thought.
"That no man in his right mind would be willing to have you, and that you found a woman to solve this problem."
". . .Which is leading you to think. . ?"
"You consider me a man, and I consider myself in my right mind, so that leaves me as -" He gave a sudden shout, jerking back and making her cringe. The wheels squealed, grating against her sensitive ears. She met his gaze, confused, to find that he was mostly shrouded in darkness, hardly visible. Yet she could still see his shock and disbelief.
"Manipulator!" he accused, and she hissed in a breath at the sudden pain that one shouted word caused. "Why you - you - how dare you!" he finally settled on.
"What in the hell is your problem now?" she demanded, losing patience. "Let me be blunt. Right now, I couldn't care about your little schemes and plots or what you think about me. Right now, I only care about silence and, eventually, getting home so I can sleep off the rest of my hangover."
"You - aren't going to get in my head like that!" he declared, shooting to his feet and stalking back to her. He leaned over her now, hands gripping the seat beside each of her thighs for balance. "You're trying to make me think things - don't deny it!" he hissed, and she was glad to see he was struggling to keep his voice under control. "With these clever words of yours, saying how you chose a woman because no man would have you, then adding that you consider me a man. I'm not a human. Like you. You wouldn't ever consider me for your. . ."
". . .Fornications?" she ventured.
He gave a nod. "That's the word."
"Okay then, secret time again." She rose her brows as if this was an important lesson, and found she had his complete focus. A part of her warned her that what she was about to say was stupid and would create more problems than it would solve, but another part wanted him staggered, and she knew this would do it.
So she said, "I already have considered you for fornications."
"Wh-what?" was his stunted reply.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course I probably never would've thought of it if you weren't so sensual all the time."
"Sens. . ." he repeated brokenly. "That. . ."
She arched a brow at him. "Don't take it too personally. There's a thing about good girls and bad boys, anyway, and I'm pretty sure it factors in too."
"What thing?" he demanded, straightening up as if he needed distance.
"Good girls like bad boys, plain and simple," she answered with a shrug. Then she winced hard, as the pain in her skull suddenly exploded. She swore under her breath, trying to bite back the curses but not doing so well.
Soon tension had shot through her, and she grit her teeth, hissing breaths in and out. She ducked her head down further, trying to curl up, but unable to lift her feet - they were chained to the floor, only about an inch of leeway given.
She heard someone speaking - him or Minion, she didn't know - though she couldn't hear them through the ringing in her ears. In fact, after a few more moments, she wished the blackness would take her again; she'd rather be unconscious now.
Her wish was half-granted as a booming sound signaled the ceiling had just crashed in - oh how Metro Man loved his entrances. It made her wonder how long she'd been out; Megamind never had windows in his lairs, so it was often anyone's guess. Sunlight filtered in at a sharp angle, so she deduced it was early morning.
In no time at all she was back in her bed, having just taken some aspirin for good measure. She settled in to sleep well into the day, realizing as she dozed off that she and Bee never exchanged numbers or any personal information beyond Roxanne Ritchi and Beatrix. Chances were, they'd never see each other again, thanks to Megamind's interference.
Still, she had a little smile as she went to sleep, knowing that at least a small part of her was satisfied with the events of the previous eight hours.