Hey, y’all! You can call me Odd. (Or Gogo).
Art credit goes to the amazing midnightcaptions whose equally incredible writing is over at split-n-splice!
This blogs gonna be for my fanfics all about Drakken and Shego!
I love getting prompts, even if it takes me awhile to respond to them.
For my non-fanfic related blog check out gogofordrakgo! I’m also on AO3 and FFN under gofordrakgo. * Dwelling * Somewhere to Go * One Shots * Drabbles *
Resilient: “Able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions"
(Drakgo Drabble #96)
She didn’t have time for things that broke. She’d once punched clean through a coffee maker because she’d noticed it getting a little slow. She wasn’t better with people, content to drop those who couldn’t keep up.
When Drakken hired her she hadn’t expected to stick around. The “take over the world” types never lasted long — their goals and motivations were just too chaotic to keep up long-term.
And yet, time and again, he’d surprised her. His ridiculous goal never changed, but every time he failed, he picked himself back up.
Quarrelsome: “Feeling or displaying eagerness to fight"
(Drakgo Drabble #95)
Drakken didn’t bother hiding his devious grin, biting into a slice of pizza – more cardboard than food.
Shego could protest her own geekiness until the crows came home — Cows came home? Nngh— for a long time! — but he knew her competitiveness overrode everything. And she’d been looking to pick a fight, that much had grown obvious with her major uptick in mockery.
He knew the ban from the arcade was coming long before she celebratorily blasted some acne-ridden teen who’d lost to her in some game or another, but that was fine. She wasn’t fighting him, and that’s what mattered.
Persistent: “Continuing firmly or obstinately in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition"
(Drakgo Drabble #94)
She’d rejected the weird blue loser outright, the first time he’d asked. The second time she’d practically shoved him down a flight of stairs. Still, he came back a third time, the same stupid wannabe evil smile on his scarred face.
He’d scurried off at the first flare-up of her plasma. Her first flare-up in the months since she’d escaped Go City.
And now, lying on her doorstep, was a pair of claw-tipped gloves and a note. “For my future partner in crime — Dr. Drakken.”
She burned the note, though she couldn’t disregard the fact that the gloves fit perfectly.
Obstinate: “Not easily subdued, remedied, or removed"
(Drakgo Drabble #93)
He hid as Shego screamed his name again.
She’d agreed to let him test the mind control device on her. (The new henchmen were so brainless they’d walk right off a cliff if he said so. Testing on them was pointless.) But she’d set a time limit.
Which he’d ignored in favor of telling her about his childhood inventions.
He wasn’t sure what about the situation had her the most upset, but either way, as she stomped past his hiding spot he had to admit… He didn’t like obedience from her.
Drew’s grin was anything but sly as he sat beside her, jostling their popcorn and ignoring the pieces that dropped to the theater floor.
“Fess up, Lipsky,” she demanded, taking their popcorn hostage before he could spill even more. “What’s got you in such a mood?”
In lieu of a response, he reached into his pockets, showing off rolls of bottlecaps and a full fistful of baffle bars. “Snuck ‘em in!” he gloated, pushing his glasses back into place. “The ticket taker didn’t suspect a thing!”
Shea snickered. “Wow, Drew. Look at you, breaking the law. Aren’t you just wicked?”
Magnetic: “Possessing an extraordinary power or ability to attract"
(Drakgo Drabble #91)
Of everything she’d done to him over the years — from mockery to abandonment — this was the absolute worst. Genuinely, he didn’t know how he was going to get over her betrayal.
He didn’t know what else to do, so when she didn’t even attempt an apology… he left.
His bad night turned into bad weeks into a horrid month before he forced himself back home.
She was there, looking as careworn as he felt.
Though an apology remained unspoken he was weak against her pull, falling into her arms. He’d always been too drawn to her for his own good.
@legendary-guest had a brilliant idea about Drakken using tools from his lab when cooking or eating and I immediately had to write this! Go check out her corresponding artwork when you're done reading!
Midnight Writes: #1
Unrelated but happy 100th drakgo fic to me!
“It was a Tuesday and I had made my normal chicken lo mein and I couldn’t find any chopsticks, so I grabbed two of my screwdrivers, and used those instead. After a few bites, I felt a little strange. Hot, and shaky. Sure I was getting the flu I called… Samuels, I think, was my primary henchman at the time…? And had him shut down my takeover-the-world plans for the week. Nobody needs sick henchmen, trust me! They’re a pathetic breed.
Samuels and some other henchmen stole my plans and attempted to enact them without me, to take the world for themselves. That’s how I learned about Kim Possible, but that’s a story for a different day. Well, actually, you already know that story, don’t you? It was you Samuels defected to.
Anyhow, I went to take a shower since I’d gotten so feverish I was sweating and I noticed my fingertips were turning blue! I kept turning the water hotter trying to warm them up, which was peculiar because other than feeling like I was sick I didn’t feel particularly cold.
After giving myself mild burns in the shower I recalled being six and getting food poisoning! My mother really shouldn’t be allowed near pork chops…. Well, I’d gotten so sick then that I kept having hallucinations. I never could handle the sensation of bugs crawling on my skin again after that! I chalked it up to the same thing. I’d been rushing, and likely undercooked the chicken!
It took forty-eight or so hours for me to sleep off the food poisoning, and when I finally was stable enough I realized I had turned blue. But, well, it completed the look. It was a shame, too. It made my old red labcoats look delightfully menacing, though I know you know that, with how fast you stole the color after I switched. But Shego came along and was adamant that she didn’t want us walking around looking like ‘rejected elves trying to steal Christmas’ so blue it was! Good thing I look stunning in all colors, right, Dementor?
I don’t know what I put in that lo mein…. I probably swapped the salt with something from the lab again.
Can you believe Shego tries to say it was because I used those screwdrivers to eat? ‘You were working with radioactive explosives that very day!’
Psh! She thinks I didn’t sterilize them before eating with them! Ha! Everyone knows fire cleans everything.
But yes, that’s the story! I turned blue from food poisoning.”
" 'And you’re sure you don’t want to join our game?' he asked, again, glancing once more towards the kitchen table where he’d set up a strange, elaborate-looking board game. She vaguely recalled Heath and Wren trying to get her to play it with them no more than a few days before the comet. Or at least she thought it had been Hideaways and Hydras but that was so long ago."
Dwelling Summary
Dwelling Chapter One
Dwelling Chapter Twenty-one
Dwelling Chapter Twenty-three
Over the past week, the mirror, as it seemed to for so many teenage girls, had become Shea’s worst enemy. In her more selfish moments, she dreaded looking into the damn thing more than she dreaded the thought of being forced back to Go City, more than wondering what would happen to Drew if she were. The bruises from the Hunter had long since faded, but she could still see them like phantoms on her skin. He didn’t scare her anymore – obviously, nothing did – but the fact that her parents— Ugh! It didn’t matter anyway; she was never going back. Merrick… Well, Merrick had always been a bit self-centered, in his own weird way, craving any attention he could get. But even when they were little the one thing he wasn’t was a rat. Well, so long as nobody had hurt or scared him. Then he was a huge baby and an even bigger tattle-tale.
She couldn’t help smiling at her reflection as she thought about the conspiratorial grin that he’d plastered on his face so often, swearing he’d take the fall for whatever petty crime she’d committed, so long as she helped him with his next performance. When she was seven, she’d tried building a jump for her bike, despite their parents strictly forbidding it. He’d taken the fall for the bent handlebars, crying that he hadn’t meant to crash into her, and the next day she’d begrudgingly taken on the role of magicians’ assistant in the town talent show.
Hell, even after the comet he’d been there for her. When she was nine, about a month after they’d been released from the lab and into the mid-build Go Tower, she’d pitched a fit and shattered several glass bottles full of the labs' special medication. She never even asked! Merrick just took the fall, claiming he’d gone into her bedroom to show off his powers and “gotten a little mixed up”. A week later his room was moved to the newly completed portion of the tower, as far away from her as possible. She never even knew if he’d received a proper punishment, but she’d let him answer questions for her in their next interview, and somehow that seemed to be enough for him.
Her smile dropped faster than it appeared. If he hadn’t had that stupid tracker! All night she’d felt a shameful sort of relief that it’d been him who’d found her. If it had to be anyone, at least it was the one brother she could generally trust. But he was right there – right there – and she couldn’t save him. But what could she have done? What could she have said to help him? “Hey, Merrick! Why don’t we perform surgery right here in the Daynight and get that tracker out so you can come live with me and the guy who—”
Shea poked at her phantom bruises, wishing just a little that it would hurt, before sighing and wiping at tears she refused to let fall. She couldn’t save Merrick, but he’d be okay. He didn’t mind being a hero the way she did, and he was probably eating up the attention her disappearance got them. He wouldn’t rat her out, because he never would.
“Shea!” Drew’s voice called to her, snapping her out of her self-pitying internal rambling. “Hurry up in there, would you? Other people need the shower too, you know!”
Drew. He was half the reason she hated looking in the mirror so much. If he hadn’t been so concerned about her maybe she never would have noticed how skinny she actually was! She’d been eating so much more, more each day, and kept finding herself hungry in a way she hadn’t been in years. And still, she could see her bones straining against her discolored skin like they were trying to force their way out.
“I’ll be out when I’m out,” she snipped at the door, as Drew’s incessant knocking started up again. “Just hold on!”
“But I have to— Nngh!” Listening to him stomp off, she smirked, though she felt a little bad. She’d been on the other side of the door plenty of times as a kid, between Merrick making sure his hair looked flawless and her mother bathing the twins, so she knew how annoying it could be. Well, Drew could learn to wait his turn. And besides, it wasn’t like she told him to go pee in the sink like Heath used to tell her when he was busy checking out his (then non-existent) muscles!
The oversized flannel made her feel like she was drowning (a feeling she was quite familiar with) but she pulled it on anyway with a huff. She liked it better when she couldn’t see what was going on beneath her clothes. At least then she could pretend. And she could practice her smile in the mirror and make sure it was just good enough to pretend she wasn’t worried about Drew’s friends coming over.
He’d asked her, sometime in the silent walk back home (a word she’d used hoping to get any sort of reaction out of him, only to be met with disappointment when he didn’t even notice) whether or not it was “a bad time to mention my friends would like to come over tomorrow.” She’d told him it wasn’t a big deal, and it was still his apartment, but now that they were on their way she was regretting saying it was fine.
She’d been so focused on her weird desire for him to put an arm around her, take her hand, just do something to try and comfort her, that she hadn’t really been paying attention to the question anyway. But really, what was up with that?
She knew he was embarrassed or whatever, that she’d caught him having nightmares, but he’d been acting weird…er ever since and, it was starting to get on her nerves. One minute he’d be holding her by the arm as she listened to his excited babbling about karaoke or how “cool” the new piece of tech in the school's lab was. And the next he’d be lecturing her about how dangerous it was for her to leave the apartment (which, apparently, didn’t apply if he wanted her to go out with him). And the moment after that he’d be weirdly distant, acting like he wasn’t moving further away on the couch when she sat next to him, or locking himself in his room playing music so he wouldn’t have to listen to her.
Maybe, if she could stop herself from falling so easily into step when he was in a good mood it would be easier to let it go. But the moments in between the lectures and avoidance were so nice, so normal, as far as things with Drew went, that she couldn’t help it. She’d been looking forward to karaoke almost as much as he was, feeding off his energy. She didn’t know what to make of it when he’d go from the Drew she thought she knew to the one that didn’t seem to like her very much at all.
It wasn’t even the general weird behavior that bothered her – he was a weird guy, she got that – it was just… she was pretty sure a few days before he would have at least tried to comfort her and she just wished… No, she didn't, it was just— God she felt like him with all his back and forth and strange stammering! It’d just be nice if he still cared, was all!
He did try to comfort her, she reminded herself, he’d taken her hand in the diner and for that, she’d burned him, however accidentally, and he’d even tried to talk to her when they first left but she’d gotten unnecessarily snappy when talk was all he did, so he’d been silent the rest of the way, and she’d been hoping too much that he would come closer to her to make herself move closer to him and this whole thing was so dumb!
And, she also had to admit to herself, it wasn’t even his actual behavior that served as her primary concern. She wanted so badly to blame it all on him, to say he was being weird because the screaming, whimpering nightmares he’d had that night had embarrassed him. As long as she could pin it all on him acting like a big baby over something totally – well, somewhat – normal, she could hold out hope that things would go back to the way they used to be.
But she couldn’t blame anything on him.
She knew what it was really about.
She’d kissed him.
And he’d told her off for it.
So, she’d ruined everything, all because she’d stupidly thought that was what he wanted. That maybe he liked her. That maybe he—
Shea groaned, tightened her belt as far as it would go, and hurried out of the bathroom. The faster she stopped looking in the mirror the faster she’d stop thinking so much. She’d barely opened the door, still toweling off her wet hair, before Drew barreled past her, slamming it shut in his rush.
“Jeez, impatient much?” she muttered and decided she might as well just throw the towel into her room. He wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. A moment after it hit the floor she decided, not without rolling her eyes, that she should at least hang it on the doorknob before Drew could kick off whining about the musty smell of wet towels again. A definite once-was-enough lecture if she’d ever heard one – she’d left it on the floor for like five minutes! She was going to go pick it up, but he’d started cooking and she could smell all the spices and obviously had to go steal a bite. He’d cringed at the sight of her eating a whole jalapeno and wandered off into the bathroom only to come back with her still-wet towel in his bandaged hands and a lecture about… well, musty scents and something about chemical reactions and bacteria. She’d only listened to half of it.
Drew, practically skipping, joined her on the couch a minute later, sitting altogether too close which only served to confuse her more. Not that she minded the proximity. Though she had to wonder why he’d claimed he needed a shower when he very clearly hadn’t taken one.
Was he that easily embarrassed that he actually couldn’t just admit he had to pee?
Or was he so distracted that he’d completely forgotten?
Probably he just didn’t want to deal with having to redo the bandages. Really, he’d likely be fine without them, but every time she caught a glimpse of the raw, ripped flesh on his chin and palms she felt a flash of guilt that she’d much prefer to suppress. At least bearing bandages the way she’d been forcing him meant she could ignore what she’d done to him.
Whatever it was, he hadn’t showered and she added it to the list of things about him that confused her. One day, she swore to herself, one day she would figure out what was going on in Drew Lipsky’s dorky brain.
“Are you still… alright? After last night?” he asked, fidgeting with a pen he’d left on the coffee table. She would have bought his concern more if he weren’t bouncing in place eagerly glancing between the door and the kitchen table.
“Yes,” she assured him, for what must have been the fifteenth time since they’d made it home the night before. She managed to suppress her growing exasperation, and continued, “Yes, I’m fine. Like I said last night, Merrick… He’s got his own stuff, but we can trust him.” She had to trust him. If it were Heath he wouldn’t have let her get as far as the next street, and if it were the twins… There wasn’t enough candy in the world to get them to disobey a hero’s order, one of them would have run off to snitch before she could’ve blinked. But Merrick had always been more like her. He liked the attention that came with being a hero, just not the lack of control. She didn’t like any part of being a hero, so… it was better that she was the one who’d left. Wasn’t it? He’d be okay until she could figure it out, right? Right, of course right.
“And you’re sure you don’t want to join our game?” he asked, again, glancing once more towards the kitchen table where he’d set up a strange, elaborate-looking board game. She vaguely recalled Heath and Wren trying to get her to play it with them no more than a few days before the comet. Or at least she thought it had been Hideaways and Hydras but that was so long ago. “We can whip up a character for you right now! I’m sure James won’t mind at all. Probably.”
She scoffed and shook her head. “Yeah, that’d be a no. You and your nerdy friends can enjoy your game.” A small part of her, so small she could crush it to bits, did want to play. He’d known just how to appeal to her when he first asked her to join them, calling it a game focused on telling a story. But she wasn’t a child! Only children still played games… Right? He’d said all of his friends were older than him, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? He couldn’t keep calling her a child if she proved she was more mature than him. But part of her couldn’t help but feel a little left out, knowing she’d be sitting awkwardly by herself as he – they! – ignored her for a game of make-believe.
“Let's at least make you a character in case you change your mind!” Despite her continued insistence that the puppy-dog pout didn’t work for him, the one he gave her almost made her agree. And it was clear he could tell when he added, “Come on, we’ll have to hurry so it’s done before they get here! We could make your character part dragon.”
“I’m not a—”
“I know. But it’s still funny.”
“It’s really not.”
“Is too!”
“It would be funnier to make my character a… I don’t remember what it was called but I saw some… thing… made of fire in that guidebook of yours.”
Drew gasped, “Oh! An inferno-clan! Technically, they’re not player characters but I could work out the math easy enough and I’m sure James wouldn’t mind so much. He doesn’t usually prefer us to play as variants but I’m sure he’d make an exception!”
Before she could respond, ready to give in under the pressure of his grin, she was saved by the bell. Or rather, the buzz of the intercom system.
“Looks like it’s too late for it now anyway.” She didn’t bother suppressing her smirk, especially once he settled a glare on her. A glare that got harsher when she laughed at him for stumbling over the blanket in his attempt to get off the couch.
“You keep laughing,” he sneered, “and I’ll tell them you want to play the fairy princess! Or— or the damsel in distress!”
She snorted. “Please. I’m no damsel. And I’m not all that easy to distress.” (Her time staring into the mirror notwithstanding). “You’re not going to embarrass me with that nonsense, Doc.”
Drew pressed the button to let his friends up, snapping, “Nngh! Just zip it!”
And all at once she was just as distressed as she claimed not to be. Drew was nice and all – he was great – but what if his friends had seen her face, plastered across the world as it seemed to be? Would they be as oddly protective and understanding? Or would the monetary reward corrupt them? From what little Drew had said about them it sounded like they had more money than he did – a lot more, at that – but if she’d learned anything… having money only made people want more. That much she could credit her parents with teaching her. Merrick might not spill her secrets but she wasn’t certain Drew’s posse, as he had all too awkwardly referred to them, could be held in similar regard.
But at least with them coming over Drew seemed to have forgotten that he’d tried to insist they would need to have a more serious conversation about what had happened with Merrick at some point. Even her complimenting his punch (and it really had had some force behind it, he just needed to minimize the arc a bit more and he’d be pretty good) hadn’t been enough to make him drop the subject. And when he’d seemingly realized that she was trying to distract him and brought the conversation back to her, she’d taken her escape into her bedroom with the door that didn’t lock, but which he knew he wouldn't open anyway.
“Hey wait a minute!” Drew blurted, as he moved back toward the couch. “You went looking in the players' guidebook? I knew it! You do want to play! Really, Shea, I don’t understand why you refuse to admit you’re a nerd at heart.” His voice got louder with each word as his utterly ridiculous excitement grew. She could tell it was taking all his effort not to start bouncing in place. He turned on his heel, heading toward the kitchen table and his elaborate game. “Come along now, I’ll get a player sheet ready for you. You can ask James about playing an inferno-clan yourself.”
“Someone needs to teach you how to do a cartwheel.”
That made him freeze and he turned to stare at her, an eyebrow raised in blatant confusion.
“You’re just the kind of guy who should be doing cartwheels whenever you get excited,” she explained with a shrug. “I don’t know how you have so much energy stored up in there, but hey, it’s clear that you do. So, someone should teach you to cartwheel.”
His face flickered through half a dozen emotions in as many seconds, before he finally settled on waving a dismissive hand, and said, “I couldn’t even manage a proper somersault as a child, I hardly think I could manage a cartwheel.”
“You’re joking, right? What kind of kid can’t do a somersault?”
She delighted in watching as his ears turned pink.
“I had other talents to focus on,” he grumbled, dropping the player sheet with a less-than-subtle hint of bitterness and stomping off into the kitchen.
Obviously, she followed him. “Like what?” she demanded, popping up onto the counter. “Adding two plus two?”
“I can dance!” Drew blurted, and just as fast smacked his hands over his mouth, eyes so wide behind his glasses she worried they’d pop right out. “I mean— I don’t actually— It was only— just zip it.”
“I didn’t even say anything! What’s wrong with knowing how to dance?” She did sort of want to dare him to prove it, though. “What kind of—?”
Before she could ask him what kind of dance he knew, a sharp knock at the door interrupted her. She glanced toward the sound, and before she knew what was happening, Drew smacked a hand over her mouth.
“Please,” he begged. “Please just don’t say anything about this right now! Not in front of them.”
She stared wide-eyed up at him. He wasn’t covering her mouth with any real force, just enough to let her know he wanted her quiet but it still shocked her that he would do it at all. She could feel the bandages, rough against her lips, and for half a moment she considered shoving Drew. Although, his fingers were warm and soft against her cheek, and part of her quite enjoyed the contact. Certainly, she preferred it over his avoiding touching her as though she’d break. Or give him the plague. She also had a brief moment to wonder why a man whose favorite movie was all about dancing, seemed so embarrassed to admit he knew how to dance.
Taking in the panicked look he shot towards the door as the knocking started again, loud and continuous, she gently pried his hand off her face, deciding to let the whole thing go. For the time being. Only then did he seem to realize what he’d done, and she had to cut off his apology.
“It’s… Fine, or whatever. But go let your friends in before I hurt them. Do they always knock like that?”
She could feel his relief as he rushed for the door, and she debated between following and staying put. But she felt safer when she was closer to him, and though she was quite confident his nerd friends wouldn’t pose any physical threat to her, by his side she stayed, hopping off the counter to follow.
“Really,” he assured her, “my friends are pretty great! I think you’ll like them!”
He turned the knob and was promptly knocked aside as the door swung open and three guys, older than Drew and definitely much older than her, shoved their way inside. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it but something about all three of them instantly left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Oh, alright. She knew exactly what it was. They came in, pushing Drew aside with hardly a glance in his direction, talking and joking so loudly she couldn’t help casting a curious glance in the hallway to see if anyone was opening their doors to see what the noise was all about. And the moment they saw her each one froze in turn, fixing her with a look she was all too familiar with.
And she was all too okay with Drew putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her closer as he shut the door.
“Guys,” he said, voice cutting through the silence like… Nothing, it was so obvious they weren’t paying any attention to him. And that made her even more uncomfortable than the looks they all tried to hide as she stared back. “This is my new roommate I was telling you about.”
Forcing herself to stand up straight, she inched away from him. Not enough that he would drop his hand, but enough that she didn’t look quite so much like a child hiding behind her mother. She’d never been one to shy away from strangers, and just because she wanted to like them and make Drew happy didn’t mean she had to feel any sort of nerves. And if Drew trusted them enough to believe they wouldn’t squeal then she could try to trust them too.
“Shea,” he said, pointing out the one who looked just a little younger than the others – Chinese, if she had to guess, although she knew better than to make assumptions, “This is Bobby. You spoke with him once. I think.” Bobby nodded, though he seemed a little shocked. Drew continued, pointing to the… guy (since from the way they carried themselves alone she couldn’t justify calling any of them a man) closest to himself, “And this is Kashwin Ramesh—”
“You can call me—”
“I’m James,” the one in the middle interrupted, holding out a hand.
She didn’t want to take it, but all four of them were watching her expectantly, and, well, etiquette training could be hard to ignore.
“Shea,” she replied, reaching out to shake the hand of this James, who she could tell, like Heath did on missions, seemed to consider himself the de facto leader of his friends.
He took her hand, and before she could react, he pulled her hand up to his face, kissing her fingers. It wasn’t necessarily unlike what Drew had done when he’d been overly concerned about the burns on her hands, but something about it – something about James – had her snatching her hand back so fast she stumbled back into Drew. He shot a strange glance between her and his friend but said nothing about the exchange.
Ugh. Her fingers were wet.
Wiping her slobbered on fingers off against her jeans, she glared at Drew as he said, “Shea was just saying she’d like to join us for Hideaways and Hydras.” And the grin he shot down at her could only be described as pure, conniving, evil. But he still had a hand on her shoulder, and hadn’t pushed her away from him…
He had been in her life a lot longer now than she would like to admit, and if she knew anything about him, it was that he would have another idea.
Sure, this one had failed, and sure, he was stomping around the lair muttering about how everything was pointless, but she knew him better than he knew himself.
His mind, scattered and chaotic as it may be, was an endless vault of creativity and ambition. Every time he claimed he was quitting evil he had another brilliant idea.
She smirked, watching, waiting for him to find his next plan.
Kissable: "Inviting kissing through being lovable or physically attractive"
(Drakgo Drabble #89)
Shego had told him once that she’d taken his job offer because he wasn’t creepy. So she’d probably hate him for even thinking it but he’d been very aware of her staggering beauty the whole time.
There was just something about her. He’d never been able to explain it, and he knew enough about the way he looked to not delude himself into thinking she would feel the same.
But he didn’t mind the sneak peeks he received by virtue of being “not creepy.”
And her lips… Well, there was a reason mistletoe had become his favorite part of Christmas.
She’d read an article once that suggested if your husband (not that Drakken was anything more than her boss) had a tendency to break things in fits of violence then act apologetic after, observe what he broke. It would almost always be things that did not belong to him.
But Drakken wasn’t like that. Sure, there were communal things that broke — the television and the junk drawer most notably — but everything else…
He rampaged through the lab, throwing failed experiments and tearing blueprints as he screamed, wordless, anguished cries. Her stack of magazines in his path, untouched.
Impeccable: "In accordance with the highest standards of propriety; faultless"
(Drakgo Drabble #87)
As the weeks wore on, Drakken became increasingly concerned over his decision to hire the girl.
For someone who ought not be noticed, he saw her everywhere. The fridge left open, driving up his electric bill for sure. Clothes that certainly didn’t belong to him around his lab. Mud tracked through the halls from her morning run.
Fiddling with the convergence amplifier she’d successfully stolen for him, he had to concede that despite the device being of military importance no such authority had tracked her back to his lair.
A messy roommate such as it were, but an impeccable thief.
Hyperactive: "Displaying excessive movement, restlessness, or talkativeness"
(Drakgo Drabble #86)
“It’s too early for you,” she grumbled, shoving him out of her way as she shuffled down the stairs.
That didn’t stop him from trailing behind her, yammering about his newest evil scheme. Blueprints and clutter from his last three brilliant ideas littered the hallway.
The coffee she snatched from his hands before collapsing onto the couch was bitter and sweet all at once, but even after damn near chugging the whole cup, she couldn’t muster up the energy to keep track of Drakken's one-sided conversation.
She swallowed a smile as he prattled away. He couldn’t know she loved it.
Gifted: "Having exceptional talent or natural ability"
(Drakgo Drabble #85)
Drakken had been told his whole childhood just how special he was. “Leaps and bounds ahead of his peers.”
And then, all at once, he wasn’t. He’d never known how to explain that particular agony.
He’d thought— hoped— Shego would be the one to understand. But as he watched her fighting off a horde of brutes twice her size, he realized that… well, he’d never been special.
Between her glow and natural fighting prowess, even her penchant for evil, she’d always been the talented one between them.
But she stuck by him and that was a gift on its own.
Frustrating: "Causing feelings of anger and annoyance"
(Drakgo Drabble #84)
He drove her insane. Really, truly, insane. He made her want to rip her hair out, quit and never come back, strangle him until he was an entirely different kind of blue… something to make him understand how difficult he was to work with.
It wasn’t like she expected a lot! Certainly, she didn’t expect a “thank you”. Even if she regarded him as more of a playground pest he still held it in heart that he was evil, so she understood.
But why, she groused, pulling the blankets over her head, did he have to wake up at dawn?
Explosive: "Relating to, characterized by, or operated by explosion; tending to explode"
(Drakgo Drabble #83)
He awaited her outburst anxiously. Though she’d never turned her rage toward him in any significant way, he never forgot how easily she could hurt him.
A chunk of ceiling collapsed to the ground, missing her by mere inches. The fire in her eyes matched her hands.
“I told you!” she screamed. He flinched. “You’re going to kill us both someday!”
Flaming masses of rubble sailed through the air, not at him but close enough.
He babbled and begged until she calmed.
The bomb defused for the moment, her touch became gentle, apologetic. He loved her, but he’d never forget.
