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There are some things they never talk about, things that never make it into the news.
The time she'd been walking home, after working late for the third night in a row and she didn't want a taxi because it was fall and the night air was crisp and cool against her skin and there were so many stars so she planned on walking home – she lived close for a reason, and it wasn't like she had to go through any bad streets.
But after a couple of blocks, almost singing under her breath and restraining the urge to skip along because she was wearing heels, she caught a glimpse of shadowy figures following her and the warm, champagne fizz of her blood turned to ice water.
She remembers the fear. The ugly weight of it in her gut, the prickle of sweat breaking out all over her skin. They'd closed in and the night that had seemed so bright was dark and why hadn't she ever bought herself a gun?
And then he'd shown up.
All dark, black skintight suit with the electric blue lightning markand no cape – eyes acidic and bright in the dark, a mouth too full of teeth. That was supposed to be a sinister smile, Roxanne had seen the expression on his face a lot but this time it didn't reach his eyes.
It was a smile to tear throats out.
He put them down quickly and with force, heavy thuds and swift blows and she turns to get the hell out of there and smacks right up against Minion, metal plates and coarse fur. One heavy hand on her shoulder, gentle, and his smile does reach his eyes, he pats her very carefully and keeps his hand there. His other hand is holding a massive gun, at ease against his shoulder.
Roxanne considers bolting anyway – she would have, if it was Megamind's hand on her shoulder, but Minion has always radiated an easy-going aura of helpfulness and it throws her off, now, just enough that she doesn't give in to the adrenaline. He's not looking at her, beyond the quick glance and brief, reassuring smile, he's focused on his boss.
Roxanne turns just as there is a resounding crack because Megamind has lifted one man up by the throat and slammed him against the brick building and now holds him there, all tight lines and shadows and there is danger in his eyes, brow flat and teeth hidden.
There's blood on his hands.
The man is almost a third again Megamind's height and muscle but the villain holds his struggling form pinned in place one-handed and the lines of his body are firm and unmoving.
Movement, from the side, and Megamind doesn't look up or glance away or even appear to move at all. But there is suddenly the de-gun in his hand, glowing a deep and ugly red, and the man who had been moving to lunge at Megamind freezes in his steps.
For a breath, no one says anything. The man pinned to the wall gurgles and his boots scuff uselessly against the pavement and the de-gun hums, ominously loud for something so small.
"You are not from around here," Megamind says, silken quiet voice, and a shiver races through Roxanne's spine. He lifts his eyes, green and half-lidded, to the man's bloodied, swelling face. "So it is only right that I be...mag-nam-i-ness?"
"Magnanimous, Sir."
It should make her laugh, it should lighten the tension thrumming through her but Megamind's low voice never alters or loses the deadly undercurrent, and Minion's reply is low and respectful, not light or cheery at all.
"Yes. Magnanimous." His voice dances over the syllables, precise and silky smooth. The man against the wall is turning purple and Megamind's hand on his throat shifts, long fingers tightening. "None of you bothered to check in with anyone, here in Metrocity, or you would know the rules." He finally looks at the man who is staring silent and unbreathing down the barrel of the de-gun. "Would you like to guess," he croons softly as if speaking to a lover, "who makes the rules?"
The man's eyes flick up from the red, glowing death in his face to the malevolence in the supervillain's green eyes and he says nothing at all.
"Roxanne Ritchi," Megamind snarls, and never had she imagined the syllables of her name could sound so weighted with such promise of violence, "is mine."
He releases his stranglehold on the man who collapses into a gasping, gulping heap.
Megamind sneers down at at him disgust. "Be gone."
They bolt, the steadier one not waiting for his struggling companion and neither of them sparing a glance for the fallen forms of the others.
Megamind watches them go, then lifts the de-gun and after a soft click the red glow and hum fade.
Minion's hand pats her shoulder again and Roxanne stares up at his toothy grin. Was he trying to be comforting? Ye gods.
"Ahem." She looks back, and Megamind is in front of her, holding out her purse. With shaking fingers she automatically reaches out for the strap – then stops.
Green eyes, watching her as closely as she's watching him and there is no sign in his mild expression or easy stance of the supervillain who had just pummeled five men into pulp.
But.
But but but but but –
Roxanne tosses her head, shaking the hair out of her eyes and glares at him. "Excuse me," she says, trying to get the breath all the way down into her lungs, spine vibrating and something hot thrumming in her heart. She is panting and the words catch on her teeth. Sweaty palms stinging from her ragged nails biting into them, against the urge to spit at him like an angry cat.
The nerve of him!
The word is half enraged snarl and half indignant squeak anyway. "Yours?"
One brow cocked and one lowered, and from half-lidded eyes he smiles at her and she feets her insides twisting for any number of ungodly reasons and she actually recoils back against the hairy bulk of Minion.
Megamind chuckles, low and dark, and shakes his head. "Take her home, Minion." He is still holding out her purse and Minion's massive hand plucks it delicately from his fingers.
It isn't until she's alone in her apartment, with every light on and music cranked loud and the shower hot against her skin that she stops shaking.
(enraged, she is enraged, the sheer unrepentant nerve of him! Miss Ritchi is mine! Go fuck yourself you smug son of a bitch Miss Ritchi is no one's good Lord almighty the sheer NERVE of that man!
Just wait, just you wait , Megamind, until the next kidnapping, MISS RITCHI IS MINE, I'll show YOU who—I—I'll-)
((he SAVED you, why are you so pissedat him when he SAVED you-))
Thinking about it as she scrubs vigorously, nails raking through her hair, scowling and grinding her teeth.
She could have handled herself! She could have!
(but she can still taste the fear in the back of her throat)
She hadn't been relieved when he'd showed up! she'd—she was—annoyed, yes, that was it. Who was he to keep tabs on her? Didn't those two have anything better to do than follow her around all the fucking time? Who does that? Surely—surely there was—
(new to this city—don't know the rules; she is MINE, Roxanne Ritchi is mine—)
Forehead leaning against the cool tiles while hot water trickles over her skin in rivulets, Roxanne shuts her eyes and catches her lip in her teeth and her hand glides over slick warm skin, cupping one breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers and her breath catches at the sharp lightning strike of pleasure lancing through her—
((green eyes bright in the darkness, sharp deadly smile, the way his lips shaped her name, wielded it like a blade-))
shutupshutupshutup SHUTUP —
Her fingers slip between her thighs, into slick heat of her body and she groans, slumping against the tiles and catching herself on the soap shelf, spreading her legs and panting, thrusting her fingers faster and faster, thinking—thinking—
not thinking at all, not at all, not—
((Megamind slamming her against the wall; one hand pinning both of hers above her head, his other hot between her thighs, long fingers slipping into her, where she was slick and hot and ready for him-))
(pleaseohgodMegamindplease-)
((the smug curve of his lips; pleasure, at what he found—pleased with her—and he leans in, lips brushing the curve of her ear and she gasps, body arcing off the wall, aching for him, rolling her hips desperately as those clever, beautiful fingers worked inside of her. That voice crooning in her ear—oh, my dear Miss Ritchi—))
She screamed as she came, the orgasm slamming into her, bolts of pleasure slamming through her, a hot honey fire that melted every muscle, every bone, set every nerve alight—her knees gave out and she slipped down to the floor of the shower, knocking her shoulder against the soap dish, heart hot and wild in her chest, toes still curled as the aftershocks quivered through her flesh.
Ears ringing. Breath in little gasps. Hot water stinging her shoulders.
Roxanne lay there a long time, eyes shut, head slumped against the tiles, while her brain cells drifted back down from the stratosphere.
...She'd. She'd been.
Tense. Yes. It was just. Adrenaline. From being scared. Had to go. Somewhere, had to. Had to...
Release, yes. That was the, the. The thing. She'd just needed...release. She thinks. As she wraps the towel around herself and stumbles on melted muscles to her bed.
Where she collapses, nowhere near the pillow, and just. Just.
((Oh. Ohhhhhhhh.
My. God.))
Yeah.