The first time she agrees to work late, he doesn't think much of it.
There's an important project to finish. There's overtime pay. End of story.
When he needs her to work on Saturday, he's mildly surprised when she agrees.
There's some grumbling, and she demands a weekend bonus, but she says yes.
When she agrees to spend an entire weekend on a plan they both know is doomed and that his synthodrones could've easily helped him with instead, and they spend more time bantering than actually working…that's when he knows that things are not like they used to be.
She'd finished her book, had lunch, filed her nails and the claws on her gloves, and now she was just…looking.
Their Caribbean lair had many strange, but appealing shapes. The twisted architecture of villainy.
High, cave-like ceilings, large metal beams with weird holes in them…the narrow mote full of green chemicals that snaked around the rooms...and that it was a wonder none of the henchmen had fallen into yet…
The material of Dr. D's lab coat moving across the broad shape of his back as he worked a wrench…
Clearing her throat, she went to…secure the perimeter or something.
There was nothing to do.
Shego had insisted he should test his outsourced doomsday devices before using them, to avoid another embarrassment.
So he'd put his scientist minions on the job.
Then she'd dragged him down to the beach.
Drakken hated volleyball and water skiing. The sand itched. The sunblock she'd made him use reeked.
He only wanted to get back to work.
Stretching like a cat in her skimpy, black bikini, Shego gave him a lazy grin. "Can't wait to see if you'll get little purple freckles in the sun…"
Well…seemed like he had to stay now. For science.
"We could've done this months ago if you'd only said yes the first time I asked you out—" Drakken began, gazing past the candlelight to where Shego was sitting, sipping at a glass of wine.
She only flashed one of those maddening, confidence-saturated smirks. "You were a total dork. Foot in mouth and all. I wanted to see if you could do better, and I knew you weren't going to stop trying."
"But— but five months, Shego!"
"Hey, at least now I know you're a keeper."
Keeper. That comment surprised him, his heart swelling. "Really?"
"I quit! You ignored me all week, my paycheck's late, you didn't tell me we're changing lairs— and now you've forgotten my birthday?"
No gifts; he hadn't even congratulated her.
Drakken struggled to explain, spluttering. She glared mercilessly, an unfamiliar, wounded look about her.
He couldn't tell her why he'd really been so preoccupied lately.
But maybe…he could show her.
With an adrenaline-fueled, ridiculously bold move.
She gaped at him when their lips parted. He released her, panting.
"Didn't mean to forget."
She stared until he squirmed.
"Let's go shopping."
Shego laughed. "It's called a second chance, Doc."
Shego was dreaming.
He could tell; she was muttering, eyelids twitching.
He reached for his slippers.
"Wow, Dr. D…Possible's heart in a jar?" she snorted, rolling over on her side.
He shook his head at her evil dreams, grinning.
"Thanks, Doc, you shouldn't have…well, actually you should've! Mwahahaha…!" The laugh was slurred, yet wicked. "I'll put it on the mantelpiece, next to the card…"
Drakken frowned. Hearts? Cards? Why did that ring a bell?
He glanced at the calendar—
Unless he got her something before she woke up, it could be his internal organs in formaldehyde.
There are things he'd never expected to taste.
Coffee Shego made for him when he was working late. Even if she didn't have to.
The sweat of her palm silencing him as they lay huddled together in a ditch in awful, orange prison suits, hiding from GJ and Possible.
Dinner they'd made together. Bored, she'd hovered, pestering him; before he knew it, she was chopping vegetables.
Shego's…uh— well, he'd certainly never expected that.
Whenever she looks at him now, eyes soft, there are words she can't say.
He can almost taste them.
Author's notes: That was the last of the drabbles, kids. I hope you've enjoyed them.