Work Text:
“I can’t WORK LIKE THIS!” Upon the door slamming open.
Professor Bug rolls his gaze up from his half eaten rocky road—not nearly as delectable since he had to fetch it himself—to see the lovely Lady in Pink absolutely shoving his door closed. The hinges nearly burst, but she turns an elegant heel and marches towards him anyway. It irks him.
He has to fight his smile.
“Join the club, gorgeous. I like the new shoes.”
“I do love it when you state the obvious.” Once her little tantrum subsides she perches perfectly on the edge of his desk, crossing one leg over the other and lightly kicking her pristine high heeled boot. Identical to her previous snowy pair, only the heel stands about two inches taller. Not that she needs it. She takes a bite of his rocky road and Bug pushes it her way, appetite long gone.
“What’s with the face?”
“Aside from being adorable?”
She hums at his flat tone. “Life on the side of good is . . . an endeavor.”
And maybe it’s hearing it out loud. Pablo falls into his hands with a groan, monochrome blue hair spilling a depressing ocean around him. He feels trapped.
“I miss having everything at my command.”
“But we’re ‘upstanding citizens’ now, baby pop.” The words are a breeze of mockery on her syrupy tongue. Pablo almost lets it distract him from the nickname he pretends to hate. “We’re supposed to behave.”
He looks up through his bangs and sees the detachment on her face. It’s unbecoming of The Lady in Pink. A solemn contrast to her usual fox-like smile and scheming gaze. But isn’t that the price to pay for the side of good?
Their joy depended on thievery and tricks, once upon a time. Now that it all was gone, life felt almost hollow. Maybe heroes masqueraded in colorful costumes to hide their emptiness.
Or maybe Pablo just really misses his robots.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
Lady dips the spoon, swirling emptiness around the bowl. Her deep purple eyes tired and knowing. “The moping. The drooping. Hoping for everything you know you can’t have back.”
“All that and you haven’t once looked at me.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not an open book, Secret.”
“Haven’t heard that name in a while.” He looks up, annoyed. “And I have some secrets.”
She snorts. “And no agency.”
It was a lame joke. “Really?”
She looks so proud of herself. That returning aura warms him.
Her expression mellows. “Talk to me.”
Pablo hesitates, tired and confused. He can’t find his voice for a few seconds.
“I don’t hate it.”
Pink is silent.
“I don’t hate doing good. I just wish I felt like myself doing it.”
“Evil?” She suggests curiously.
“Free,” he pleads. “People are telling me how to “be” good, but no one ever had to teach me evil. It was always up to me.”
And it was. There was no crash coarse in villainy (that idea unfortunately never left his drawing board). But Pablo could see what he wanted and when he wanted it and why taking it by force was his best option. Waiting for permission would grant him only frustration and disappointment, he thought. As long as he was in control of his desires and attaining them, he never had to worry about the what ifs of it all, right?
What ifs left too much room for others to show how little they cared about him. If they wouldn’t prove his worth, it was up to him.
Or had been, at least.
“Your problem is that you let others ignore you,” Lady snorts, flipping her long ponytail. Several pink micro braids smack him in the face. “You have to command attention, comme je fais.”
“Not everyone is so infuriatingly captivating,” Pablo mumbles. Pink cackles and his chest feels just a little lighter.
Soon enough she sobers, claiming his eyes before he even realizes they ever strayed. She leans in close enough that her smile actually appears soft, sweet. Trick of the light, maybe.
“Honey, being a “hero” doesn’t mean trading yourself for misery. You might suffer some, but hello, change. You’re still you. Just in a different direction.”
His voice desperately holds itself together. “And what if all I knew of myself was being evil?”
Uniqua cups his face. “Then you didn’t know all of yourself yet.”
He cracks a smile through the tears. “For someone who used to be my nemesis, you’re a really good friend.”
“I know,” she breezes. Pablo laughs, openly.
Maybe the whole “doing good” thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.