Elf_Kid! Merry Christmas, and thank you for a LOVELY COMBINATION OF PROMPTS, holy crap! This was written for the 2019 Megamind Secret Santa Fic/Art Exchange, and friends, Elf offered three possible suggestions: Fake Dating, Keeping Each Other Warm, and Mistletoe. And I, being the nutball that I am, looked at that and said, "well, I've never written fake dating before and I can't read incomplete fics in that genre without needing to breathe into a paper bag, but! if I write fake dating, I bet I can do ALL THREE OF THOSE in ONE FIC."

So I did. :P

Anyhoo, I got this prompt and went HELL YES but I also didn't have a whole lot of time to work out new character dynamics and relationships? So, Roxanne's sister and her brother-in-law are from an as-yet-unpublished fic I've had knocking around in my snippets folder for a couple years. And mom-wise, well, I couldn't do ColdFusion!Mom for various reasons. But it's sort of fanon that Roxanne's relationship with her mother is Complex, and so I gave her a mother who I think tries to do her best but whose brain gremlins don't always interact well with Roxanne's. Hopefully that's okay. It wound up being useful for relationship development purposes! All of which is just to say, Elf, I did my best! but! please let me know if any of this really squicks you and I will change it, because you are a good egg who deserves the best. This one is for you. Big hug.

There are 15 chapters and this fic is fully written; I just haven't marked it complete because it's 3AM and I'm going to sleep. I'll upload the rest of the chapters over this weekend, probably!

Chapter 1

It begins with a lie. Not a big lie, you understand—just the sort of little lie you tell to Get Your Family Off Your Back about the thing they've been Nagging You About that really, truly, honestly is None Of Their Business.

It begins with a small lie, a little off-gray lie, that gets bigger. And because it belongs to Roxanne, who is Stubborn, and more than willing to double down if it means not getting nagged about her Future and her Prospects and her Biological Clock, it is a lie that gets bigger and bigger and bigger until—

Well, Rosemary Ritchi's theory is it gets so big that it simply loops back around and becomes the greatest truth there has ever been or will ever be simply as a matter of course. But Rosemary Ritchi dual majored in economics and political science, so what does she know about truth.

"It's like how really terrible movies come back around and become good," says Rose.

No, Rose. It really is not like that at all. But thanks for playing.

"Oh, thbpbpbt," says Rose, rolling her eyes. "You're no fun at all."

"Roxanne," says her mother, in June, "you know I don't mean anything by it."

"I know," says Roxanne, who is Exhausted.

"It's just—sweetheart, you aren't getting any younger! You're thirty-two!"

"I know," says Roxanne, biting her tongue and trying to sound cheerful and supportive so this doesn't become A Thing.

"I want you to be happy," Dorothy says. "Annie, you know that's all I really care about, but…"

"But you also want grandbabies," Roxanne sighs, because she knows where this is going. She knows when her mother is ramping up to one of her well-meaning when-are-you-going-to-finally-settle-down lectures.

"But I also want grandbabies!" Dorothy exclaims. "And you know Rose can't have children—"

"Salim can," Roxanne says, recalcitrant, "and you know they're trying," and her mother splutters for a moment.

"Well—well, yes, but—oh, Annie, you know that isn't what I mean."

Then what do you mean, Mom? What DO you mean?

Roxanne does not scream these things. Instead, she just sighs and thumps her head gently against the French doors leading out onto her balcony. "Ma," she says. "You know I'm not sold on the whole kids thing. You know Rose is the one trying for kids." She opens the door and heads out onto her balcony to lean on her elbows on the railing. "Why are you barking up this tree? Do you really see me having kids in the next five years? I'm thirty-two! I like where I am!"

"I just think you would be happier with a boyfriend," her mother says despairingly. "Or—or a girlfriend! It's okay! I just think it's such a shame that sweet Wayne boy turned out to be gay. I'm so sorry about that, Annie. You wasted, what, six years with him?"

"Four," Roxanne says flatly, even though the real answer is seven, and also I don't see it as a waste, and ALSO I knew he was gay from our third 'date' forward.

"Four—four? Now, Annie, really. I'm old, not stupid—"

"Five, then," Roxanne snaps. "But—but Mom. Ma. Would you—would you shut up and listen to me? For like thirty seconds? I met someone."

(Here it is.)

Silence from her mother's end of the line.

"I met someone," Roxanne repeats, because she is absolutely crap at lying in person but she can lie over the phone all she wants. It's the one good thing about talking on the phone. And then she thinks oh well, what the hell, might as well make it a boy, so she says, "He's—really nice. Mom, I really like him. Okay? So maybe things will work out, this time."

Her mother lives in Montana. Her sister lives in New Mexico. It's not like they're going to just show up like let's take you and your man out to lunch at random one day.

"Is—is it serious?" her mother asks. "What's his name?"

Roxanne, who only wants to be done with this conversation, says, "It's serious enough that I am mentioning him. Okay? And—his name is—Micah." It's the name of the most recent hire at KCMP News, and distinctive enough to not be immediately identifiable as a Big Ol' Lie. "We met at, um. Well, not work," she says, because her mother is nosy and if this gets back to Actual Micah, Roxanne will sink into the ground and become part of the earth's mantle out of shame, "but…sort of a work function? Like…it was a networking thing. It was super boring; he was the only good thing about it."

"Micah," her mother says, sounding startled. "Oh! He's Jewish?"

"I'm…not sure," Roxanne says. She has no idea what the etymology of the name Micah is; it was just the first name she could think of that wasn't Obviously A Lie, like John or Steve. "We haven't gotten to discussing religion yet. Maybe. Why? Would that be a problem?"

"No," her mother exclaims, still sounding completely shocked by this news, "not at all, of course not. I'm—Annie, that's such good news! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Because it's none of your FUCKING business and also he's not real. "We're taking it slow, that's all," Roxanne says. "False hopes, you know? But…but I really do like him a lot, Mom."

"Well, that's wonderful," her mother exclaims. "Annie, I'm so happy for you!"

And it all.

Goes downhill.

From there.

"Mom says you met someone," Rosemary says eagerly, in August. "Some nice Jewish boy? From work?"

"I—he's—" Crap. Crap. Crap. Rose is dying not to be the only married daughter, Roxanne knows; their mother loves them both but she can be seriously overbearing. "Yeah, not quite from work, and no, he isn't Jewish, I think he's—agnostic?"

"Oh, of course, that's fine too," Rosemary brushes that off. And of course she would; her own husband prays five times a day like clockwork. "It's just—Roxannie, that's awesome! Is he coming to Thanksgiving?"

Shit, Roxanne thinks. Shit, shit. "Not Thanksgiving," she says. "He already has plans. But maybe—maybe Christmas? His family lives overseas and he's been talking about going to visit them, he hasn't been back to—um—visit in like four years, and—"

Rosemary makes a sympathetic noise. "Oh, absolutely. That's far too long," she says. "Well, but see if…could he maybe go visit them in January? Couldn't he? Annie, we want to meet him!"

"I'll talk to him about it," says Roxanne, who is Weak.

(She would tell her sister the truth. She would. Really. Rose would understand Roxanne's reasoning. But Rose sounds so excited about this and she would also be so disappointed. And admitting Micah isn't real to her sister would mean also telling her mother she and Micah broke up, and—and that would open up a whole new range of lectures about What A Shame It Is That You're Single (Again), Oh Dear. Which! Roxanne should really have thought about! To begin with!)

It's just excruciating to continually have your life that you're happy with judged and found lacking and openly criticized by people who are important to you. That's all. These new questions are also excruciating, but at least they're about something Roxanne can control.

Her mother calls a whole month earlier than usual to make plans for Christmas. She doesn't say anything about why she's calling in October, but she does ask if Micah has bought his plane tickets home yet, and can he come out to Montana with Roxanne, and—

—and Roxanne, who is having a long day and just doesn't have the brain space to come up with a breakup story, says, "Yeah, he's really excited to meet you guys, too," and immediately drops her head onto her desk as soon as she hangs up the phone.

Two days into December, Roxanne is on the phone with Rosemary again when her sister drops the bombshell.

"I don't think Micah is real," Rose says.

Roxanne blinks, righteous irritation flaring despite the fact that her sister is absolutely correct. "Ex…cuse me?"

"You heard me," Rosemary says calmly, "I don't think he's real, Annie. I really don't. You haven't said where he's from, you haven't mentioned his last name, he's never around when I call, you won't send pictures of you two…you're just being super vague about the whole thing and I think it's nonsense."

"It—it is not nonsense," Roxanne replies, outraged, even though it is the most nonsense ever. "He is not nonsense! Rose, I love him, what the heck?"

What are you doing, her brain screams. This was your opportunity to come clean to your sister! and ask what to do about your mom! What are you doing?

Roxanne's reply to her own brain sounds like mostly incoherent screaming.

So, she is kind of low-key panicking all throughout the next week, because how did it get to this point? How did it—seriously, though, what the heck indeed? How has she not come up with a breakup story yet? How did she not come up with a breakup story back in October when her mom called to ask about Roxanne's imaginary boyfriend's plane tickets?

She's low-key panicking and high-key cranky and so when Megamind is halfway through his usual let me tell you how clever I am, Roxanne; see what I'm doing with this; can you guess what this is routine later that week, Roxanne snaps, "I don't know, you're the freakazoid. You tell me."

Megamind pulls up short and recoils, looking stung. "What?"

"This is stupid," Roxanne says, ignoring the prick of her conscience. "Either take me home or turn on the cameras already and let's get this show on the road. I am not in the mood."

He blinks at her a few times, then cocks his head and frowns a little. "Miss Ritchi," he says slowly, "is everything all right?"

It's Roxanne's turn to blink. "What? Yes. Except for the fact that I've been kidnapped, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well," he says, twiddling his thumbs in front of his stomach, standing with his feet together, "your wit can be cutting at times, we both know this, but—that was—mean. Uncalled-for? You don't usually interrupt just to insult me." He frowns. "And, and I have noticed a few times over the past month or so, you've—this isn't the first—" He cuts himself off, then hesitantly says, "Are you okay? Is something—did I—have I done something wrong? Wrong-er than usual, of course," he amends hastily, because kidnapping, hello.

Roxanne stares at him for a moment, then heaves a sigh. "No," she says, disappointed with herself and no longer able to ignore it. "No, it's…not you. You're right, I'm sorry."

Now Megamind looks really worried. "Okaaay," he says, "and usually we don't do apologies, either." He frowns harder at her for a moment, then spins on his heels and trots over to his high-backed wheelie chair, which he pushes back over to her with both hands and drops himself down into.

"Okay," he says again, more firmly this time, facing her. "Now. You will tell me what is wrong and I will fix it and life will go back to normal."

"…I don't…know if you can help," Roxanne says, trying to get her head around I will fix it like that's a thing Megamind is willing to just…do for her. "It's really very stupid."

He smiles thinly. "Ollo, freakazoid over here," he says. "I am really very smart. Fixing stupid things is what I do. Tell me."

She swallows. "You're going to think I'm a complete idiot," she clarifies, and Megamind tilts his head at her.

"The odds of that happening," he says, "are so infiniteesimally small as to be nonexistent. Tell me."

So she takes a deep breath, because she really does feel badly about the whole freakazoid comment, and says, "I told my family I was dating someone who doesn't exist so they would stop bugging me about finding someone to date. And I didn't know how to tell them I broke up with him and now they think he's coming to Christmas. And my sister said she thinks he doesn't exist, so of course I insisted he does exist—because people second-guessing my life choices kind of…kind of shorts out my ability to make good decisions? I guess? Anyway. And so now if I don't show up with someone willing to play along with this mess, I'm never going to hear the end of it." She sighs. "It's completely my fault, of course. I should have 'broken up' with him back in August. It was just…I kept thinking, maybe now they'll quit hassling me about all this. Maybe now they'll stop hassling me. Okay, maybe this time." She wrinkles her nose. "It was just…nice to be annoyed about an imaginary boyfriend instead of the lack of any kind of partner. For once."

Megamind is squinting at her, looking puzzled. "I think I'm missing something," he says. "They care about you dating anyone…because of why?"

Roxanne shrugs. "Apparently I would be 'happier' with a boyfriend." She can't bring her hands in front of her to do air quotes, but she makes them pretty obvious tonally.

Minion chimes in, looking even more confused than Megamind does. "Are you unhappy currently, Miss Ritchi?"

"No!" she exclaims. "No, I'm very happy! I like my life!" She sighs. "I suppose I could be just as happy, but happy in a…well, in a different way, if I was dating someone. But I just don't see why I need to have someone in that role. I'm fine where I am! And dating is such a pain, I mean, you know how it is."

Minion just looks bewildered, but Megamind fidgets a little. "Yes!" he exclaims. "Yes, of course! Dating." He shudders his whole body, pulls a face. "Ugh, such a pain."

"Right?" Roxanne rolls her eyes. "I mean—I'd have to find someone who I really fit with in order to be as happy as I am right now. I don't want to change who I am for somebody else! Little behaviors here and there, fine, I can work on those, but—what I like to do when I'm at home, what I like to do on the weekends, what I want to do when I'm on vacation? I mean, sometimes I want to just take a day and sit, but oh, no, that's not acceptable; we're on vacation, we have to Make The Most Of It. Oh, and travel? Finding someone I travel well with is—ha! No! I…frankly, I don't know if I've ever matched with someone in those arenas."

Megamind frowns. "Still," he says. "Either way, I don't see why it's their business."

"Thank you!" she exclaims. "Thank you! Every time I try and talk to my friends about this, they're like, well it HAS been a long time since you've dated anybody…and it drives me crazy. Honestly, sometimes I think I am crazy."

"Get better friends," Megamind suggests. "You sound perfectly sane to me."

Minion clears his throat. "Miss Ritchi," he says slowly. "I…may have a…potential solution to your problem as I understand it. And, and it seems you may have a potential solution to a problem I am having."

Both Roxanne and Megamind blink up at him, startled.

Minion gulps a little. "You see, um, Miss Ritchi. You aren't the only one who has been…oh…irritable? out of sorts? recently. And I think a change of scenery might—"

Megamind sits bolt upright. "Minion, don't you dare," he snaps, but Minion—usually so agreeable—rounds on him with surprising vim.

"Sir you have been an absolute crank for the past month and a half," he snaps, and Megamind's mouth falls open. He presses a hand to his chest in silent, incredulous affront. "Yes, you! And you know it! Moreso even than usual, going into this time of year. And—and let me tell you, Sir, I have had enough! I really have."

Roxanne steals a glance at Megamind, feeling a little like she's just been caught in the middle of a family argument with no way out. Megamind is glaring into the middle distance, his eyebrows low, but he isn't denying Minion's allegations, so…

"So, Miss Ritchi," says Minion, turning back to her, "I propose that you bring Sir—Megamind—to Christmas with your family as your romantic plus-one."

"Minion," Megamind says, his voice low, "I cannot believe you."

Roxanne, however, blinks and sits back in the kidnapping chair a little. Actually…okay, that would be—sort of amazing? Fine, you're all so desperate for me to date someone? Okay: I'm dating Megamind. Sit on it and spin. Teach you to criticize my life. Ahaha. Take that.

"Huh," she says, trying to wrap her head around the idea. "That's…hm."

Megamind snaps his head up and around to look at her. "You're—wait. You're considering this?"

"I am," she says slowly. "Yes. You would have to agree, of course, but…that has potential." She refocuses on Minion, asks, "Do you want to come, too?"

Now Minion looks startled. "Do I—oh, no." He laughs. "No, Miss Ritchi, I am flattered, but—I don't—ha. Social. No. Thank you! But no."

She looks over at Megamind, who is still staring at her like she's sprouted a second head. "Well?" she asks her serial kidnapper, sounding braver than she feels. "I'm considering it, how about you?"

He blinks a few times, scrunches his face, pulls it loose again, blinks some more. Then he curls back in his chair and pulls his feet up under him. "Hmmm," he says, stroking his beard. "Mischief is its own reward, as they say…"

Roxanne blinks. "Pretty sure they say that about virtue, not mischief."

Megamind snorts and waves a dismissive hand. "That is because they are boring and lack vision," he tells her, and yeah, okay, he has a point. And he sits up a little in his high-backed chair. "Well," he says. "Well. Minion, perhaps you're—right. Maybe I do need a change of scenery."

"My mom lives in Montana," Roxanne warns. "We'll have to fly there, you realize. It's not going to be an afternoon; we'll have to spend at least one night there. Two, if we're going to really pull this off—my old bedroom has bunk beds, so no issues there, but—"

Megamind twitches a shrug under his mantle. "Eh," he says. "Two nights doesn't sound like a problem. It's something new. I like new things!"

"And it's going to be cold," Roxanne says. "Bozeman's average temperature in December is, like…twenty degrees."

"Metro is already freezing," Minion says, and Megamind sort of nods in his direction.

Roxanne studies him for a moment. "Are you even allowed on an airplane? I assume you're on a no-fly list."

"Pfsh," he scoffs. "A no-fly list, singular? Miss Ritchi, I am on seventy-three no-fly lists! So we'll take the Invisible Hovercraft."

Roxanne's mouth falls open. She doesn't usually show surprise around Megamind, since he tends to gloat about it, but— "You have an invisible hovercraft?"

"I do not," he says, sending her his biggest, most sparkling grin. "But I have almost a month to build one, so I will if you want me to! That is the sort of thing I would do, if I was your boyfriend, isn't it? Build you a hovercraft?"

"I—really have no idea," Roxanne says blankly. "I've never had a boyfriend capable of doing that before."

Megamind sits up straight and cocks his head. "Before?" His eyebrows go up, his grin grows wider. "Is that a yes? Operation Fake Dating is a go?"

…Fuck it. Hashtag yolo. "Operation Fake Dating is a go," Roxanne confirms, and Megamind wriggles his shoulders, a sign that he's pleased. He got on board with this awfully quickly, she thinks, amused, but then again, when does Megamind ever hesitate longer than a minute and a half?

"Excellent," he says, curling up even more comfortably in his chair, drumming the tips of his fingers together. "This is going to be interesting. Now, Miss Ritchi, I need details. Many details, all the details. What have you already told your family about this suddenly-extant-but-still-very-much-fake-boyfriend? What behaviors will they be looking for from me? Will we need to bring gifts? What—ah. What clothing will I be expected to wear?" His grin slips a couple notches at that last one, and Roxanne blinks.

"You can wear whatever clothing you want," she says slowly. "Why?"

"I don't—hm—wear clothing? Exactly? I wear—" He gestures at his chest, still grinning, but nervously. "This. Mostly. Almost exclusively."

"No sweaters?" The Lair is habitually freezing.

"Never tried sweaters," he says, eyebrows pulling together. "Clothing rubs. I can't really—it makes me—upset?" He fidgets. "Absurdly so, or so I'm told. It hurts."

"Hey," Roxanne says, sort of surprised, because he's sort of hunching over, now, his eyebrows low and his smile in danger of being entirely extinguished. "That's fine. That's okay, that's—I get that with certain fabrics, too, that's okay."

"Most fabrics, in my case," he says. "It feels like needles under my skin; I can't."

Roxanne shakes her head. He seems really hung up on this. "Megamind, spandex is still clothing. You can wear nothing but spandex if you want to." She shrugs. "You might freeze, but you can come in full supervillain panoply, if you want to. It's okay."

He's quiet for a moment, studying her. "You're sure."

(Minion is standing very still, off to one side. He appears to be texting.)

"Of course," she says. "Can I ask, though—what about really loose clothing? Or soft?"

"Loose is okay," he says quickly. "Loose and soft is—I can do flannel, my pajamas are flannel. So…so maybe a really big sweater?" He pauses. "You have a navy one, the one with the penguin? I could maybe wear something like that. Maybe."

Roxanne blinks a few times at the mental image of Megamind in an oversized sweater over his black spandex. That's. Huh. That honestly wouldn't be a bad look, for him. "Do you want to wear something other than spandex? You seem sort of worried about the spandex."

Megamind makes a face. "I want to seem like a boyfriend you would date."

Oh. "Clothes have very little to do with that," Roxanne says. "You're not sloppy; that's all I'd be looking for in the clothing arena. As long as you aren't wiping your nose on your sleeve, I'm happy."

"Ah," he says, relaxing a little, "okay."

He is still frowning, though. She cocks her head. "Or—what about wearing your spandex under regular clothing? Is it rubbing in general, or just on your skin?"

Megamind blinks a few times, then scrunches his face, looking bewildered. "Is that an option? "

"Of course it would be," she says, surprised he would need to ask. "Megamind, they would be your clothes, you can wear anything you like under them."

"Hmmm," he says, frowning into the middle distance. "That…may be worth trying."

She studies him for a moment. "You must really hate those prison uniforms, huh?"

He shudders.

"Would you be looking for anything in particular?" Roxanne asks, feeling like she should probably clear all this out of the way before they go too far. "I'm not wearing a full face of makeup every day," she warns, before he can reply. "I only—"

"—Only do that when you know you're going to be on the air," Megamind finishes. "Yes, I've noticed. That's fine. The makeup you wear—I don't know what you do, but it covers your freckles."

"That's part of the point," Roxanne agrees.

"Perhaps, but I like your freckles," Megamind says. "So wear whatever you want. You can leave all your makeup at home if you want to; I don't care." He cocks his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "I've seen you totally bare-faced a few times, Miss Ritchi, if you recall. You're beautiful no matter what you're wearing; I will tell you that for free."

She arches an eyebrow. "Imagine what you would tell me if I paid you," she quips, trying not to be flattered.

He grins at her. "Regardless. I'm not looking for anything in particular."

Up goes her other eyebrow. "Really? Nothing?"

He clears his throat, fidgets awkwardly for a moment. "Honestly, I'm…not sure what there is to look for? I don't…date. Much. Shocking, I know."

"Neither do I." Roxanne frowns. "Maybe if we discuss this from the perspective of what they will be looking for, and then see how much of that we can do?"

His slightly worried expression morphs to relieved delight in a split second. "Ah! Yes! That sounds excellent! What will they be looking for?"

"So, ideally we should support each other," Roxanne says, "but be able to argue. You know, be able to disagree on unimportant things while still being respectful."

"Unimportant things," Megamind repeats, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, you know, like…driving styles, tastes in music. But the important things, like politics and…well, certain social and economic issues? It's easier if both parties agree on those. Religion can fall into either category, depending on how devout or not the parties in question are."

"I embrace all religions in concept but subscribe to none in practice," Megamind says immediately. Roxanne's lips twitch. He had that line memorized and ready to go, she can tell.

"That works," she says. "My family went to church a lot when I was little, but after we moved out to Montana and the closest church they agreed with was a fifty-minute drive, we mostly stopped going." She grins. "Mom said she figured God would understand."

Megamind shrugs. "Seems understandable to me."

"Anyway, my family tends to be pretty chill about that stuff," Roxanne says. "My brother-in-law is muslim and my mom was fine with that. Startled, but fine with it." She pauses, then says—carefully, because she is talking to a man who habitually covers himself in spikes and that's a look that says don't touch me if she's ever seen one— "They will probably also be expecting a certain degree of…physical closeness? Between us?"

Sure enough, Megamind goes still. "Physical closeness."

"Like holding hands," Roxanne says, "or…you know, cuddling on the sofa."

Megamind swallows hard. He isn't smiling. "That," he says, "may be a problem. I don't. Touch. Not without—not without asking. Not—coming up and—I've seen people just—"

"But you can touch," Roxanne tries to clarify, "it's not like the clothes thing? You're okay touching, you just need advance notice? No surprises?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "Something like that, but…it's not that I don't want to. It's—I need—I can't be the one who surprises. I need to be—expected."

Roxanne blinks. "That's okay," she says. "That's fine. Why wouldn't that be fine?"

"How long have we been 'dating'?"

"About six months."

"And, after six months, I'm still asking if I can hold your hand," Megamind says. "Would that not seem weird? To your family?"

"Megamind, most of what I do seems weird to my family," Roxanne says dryly. "One way or another. But…okay, what if…what if I tell you that you have a standing invitation? To hold my hand? Would that work?"

He hesitates, but shakes his head again.

"What if you come up next to me and sort of quietly clear your throat, and then I hold your hand?"

His worried expression clears. "Oh," he says immediately, "yes. That! I like that. We can do that?"

Roxanne shrugs. It's the first time she's had a partner who needed that sort of thing, but sure, why not. Dating is about working together to find what works together. "Sure," she says. "What about sofa cuddles? Any suggestions there?"

He bites his lip and thinks for a second. "If—if you sit down and put your arm out on the back of the sofa," he says. "Then I'll sit down in your space. And you can—you can. Cuddle me. If you want to."

Roxanne nods. "Okay," she agrees. "Sure. And if you want to cuddle me, you do the same thing? Same cue? It counts as an ask."

Megamind stares at her for a good thirty seconds, and then suddenly he snaps his legs down and flings himself onto his feet. The chair goes rolling away behind him. "I cannot have this conversation with you in the kidnapping chair," he announces. "It's too weird. It is freaking me out. I am going to untie you, is that okay? We can continue negotiations—in—in the kitchen? I don't really—I don't know what—"

Roxanne has to laugh a little bit; he really does look weirded out. "Megamind, that's fine. You don't have to do any of this if you don't want to. Really, it's okay. It's just my family; it's fine if I show up without my mystery man."

He shakes his head. "No, I do want to," he says. "This sounds—fun! I like fun! And very—it really is the little evils, you know? But it is also very new. And I like new things! I said I like new things! I wasn't lying. But! New things are—very new things. With, with the touching and the potential sweaters-wearing." He skips around behind her, starts picking at the knot on her wrists. "We should also talk hovercraft design," he adds, "as long as you're here. If—if I was your boyfriend, which I am not, but if I was—I would ask for your input, yes? On the design? It's a big project. I feel like you should be involved."

"I would love to be involved," Roxanne tells him. "Yes, if I was your girlfriend, I would be flattered and pleased that you want to take my feelings into consideration."

"Ahahaha," he says, and the ropes fall away from her hands. "Okay! Okay. And—ooh, you'll need to have input on the controls, as well. Oh!" He darts in front of her. "Or I could surprise you on the design! But customize the controls according to your input?"

She nods. "That also sounds great, yeah."

He flashes his white smile at her, then holds out his long hands to help her to her feet. Suddenly uncertain, Roxanne lets him pull her up, then dusts herself off.

"Megamind," she says. "Are you sure about this? It's just…it seems like you're going to a lot of trouble for me, and you won't be getting much out of it except stress."

He blinks, cocks his huge head with puzzlement written all over his expressive face. "I'm not stressed."

"Not yet, but you will be," Roxanne says.

He shrugs. "I've been stressed before. I'll be fine. Miss Ritchi, this sounds like fun! I don't have to know why it sounds like fun. Must there always be a reason?" He grins. "Let's just have fun with this! Come on."

Oh. Well. That does make some sense, if she thinks about it that way. It sounds fun—sometimes that's all the reason you need. Yeah.

Yeah!

"Okay," she agrees, and puts a hand down to her side, bumps her pinkie against his. He glances down, then turns his hand to take hers. Quickly looks back up at her, and she sends him a smile. He relaxes.

Okay, she thinks, sudden relief about the whole stupid situation making her knees weak. Okay, this—might actually be doable.

FantasticFish: IT'S HAPPENING
MetroImperative: wait, what? Whats happening
MetroImperative: are we doing a thing today
FantasticFish: THEY ARE GOING TO CHRISTMAS WITH MISS RITCHI'S FAMILY IN MONTANA AAAAAHAHAHA PAY UP I WIN
MetroImperative: WHAT? Since when
FantasticFish: since 45 seconds ago! when i suggested it!
MetroImperative: OH MY GOD
FantasticFish: i'm so excited
FantasticFish: i can't even see straight, it's all little hearts
MetroImperative: ...it's not gonna work tho
FantasticFish: whAT
MetroImperative: They're too dense! They'll never figure it out!
FantasticFish: you are WRONG and would you like to know how I know that? Would you like to know? Ask me. Ask me how i know you're wrong
MetroImperative: how do u know
FantasticFish: HE IS BUILDING HER
FantasticFish: A HOVERCRAFT
FantasticFish: CUSTOMIZED TO HER SPECIFICATIONS
FantasticFish: AND CALIBRATED TO HER SPECIFIC SPATIOAUTONOMIC RESPONSES
MetroImperative: pretty sure roxie's spatial awareness is not great
FantasticFish: he KNOWS that; that's why it's calibrated to HER RESPONSES
FantasticFish:missingthepoint dot jpeg
FantasticFish: IT'S HAPPENING!