Don't hate me.

Actually, hate me. Hate me with the burn of a thousand suns, because I actually enjoyed writing this, even though I hated myself for coming up with the concept.

This was supposed to be a multi part for one shots inspired by/revolving around songs. But once I put it into the system it told me It had over 10K words.

So I thought, "Well shit, have to break it up and make it it's own story." And I did.

So this will be a two-part story around a really out there AU where Megamind and Minion are not only humans, but a part of society. (somewhat).

The Empty Orchestra.
Act I:
The Music Between Us.

Words; 8,158

It's a cold winter evening. Frigid, clammy, wet. There's scores of people on the streets through the weekend night celebrating the last of the holidays and one group in particular has been wandering through the downtown area for hours, hopping from building to building before settling on places that didn't turn them away from how drunk the lot of them looked.

The office co-workers stand under the neon sign of a gun firing, spelling out the name Hunter's Pub as a few of them have another discussion ahead of the group while the rest stand idly around.

"I said no Wayne, he's had enough." calls a brunette coming in from the center, reaching out to grab a hold of two men heading towards the door of the bar.

"C'mon, Roxie, ol' Blue can handle himself for one more round, right Hamlet?" responds the heavy-set guy as he throws an arm around the shoulders of the smaller man, pulling him in with a not so gentle swing that made him queasier than he already was.

The group could see the color change on the smaller one's face and make a clearing for him to avoid anything that might come out of his mouth, as he struggles to get out of the dead man grip around his neck and cries out "For the last time, it's Am-" and he pauses, letting the gagging reflex subside because he's never actually puked in front of anyone other than his brother and he'll be damned if this would be the first, even if it is on holiday.

The brunette rushes forward to pry the small man out of the bigger one's tight grasp as she turns towards the stragglers at the back of the group, waving her hand frantically to call ahead the taller of the lot; "Menian!"

An olive skinned man, about the same size and build as Wayne, strolls forward to see what the commotion is about and notices Roxanne holding on to the shiny bald head of his smaller brother that is in the crook of Wayne's right arm. With slight irritation he calmly comes around to the other side of the large man and starts conversing with him, enough to distract him from releasing his locked grip on his brother to the relief of all three of them.

"You know Wayne, I think miss Ritchie is right. We should probably call it a night since it seems that most of us are pretty wiped out from the party." Menian adds as a defense to curve their drinking for the night. They had been out on what Wayne suggested would be an innocent Christmas office party for the channel eight news team, and by innocent he meant drinking and eating until someone threw up or passed out, or both, and by the news team he meant just himself.

Considering he's the lead anchor of the news station he always sought out any excuse to celebrate anything pertaining to himself, as well as always having the luck of getting what he wanted in life; a successful career, a sub-standard relationship with his more-than-well-off parents, and Roxanne. So long as life was nice and easy (and predictable), he was fine with just reading off the teleprompter.

"What? N-no no, we're just getting the night started, c'mon it's only-" he looks down to his watch, "-Seven-" "Ten to ten." Menian corrects to which Wayne speaks over him with a slight slur "-Ten to ten, I knew that. Look, if you want us to relax, we can always head to the karaoke bars in midtown and rent out a booth for all of us to take a breather. Sound good?" he says as he changes directions and starts walking back where they came from, leaving a forgotten Blue wheezing on the ground as the woman hovers over him and the group walks around them.

"Hey Roxie, you better catch up if you want first dibs on the song! And don't forget Collin!" Wayne calls out to the two left on the ground.

"His name is Amlin!" she yells, adding with restraint through gritted teeth, "And stop calling me that!"

Looking back down to help Amlin up by his arm, her hand encloses around his thin wrist easily.

"Thanks, Roxanne." he says, dusting off the snow that clings to his flannel coat and adjusting his beanie cap. "You'd think after twenty years he'd get it right." he mumbled.

"Hey, ten and he still can't remember not to use that nickname on me," she says.

She smiles at him before motioning with her head for them to try and catch up to the group that was on their way inside another building two blocks down.

Wayne looks around the group that's crammed themselves into the karaoke lobby and starts looking around through those who had decided to spend the night drinking with him, eyeing Henry in the front, their news director who runs the small station and practically owned it ever since the main investors had sold most of their shares to him stands at the head of the crowd in a cardigan, his mostly grey hair giving a dull shine in the fluorescent lighting.

Next to him is Judy, a middle aged brunette with the embodiment of a poster mother who hosts the morning talk show along with Brittney, a young blonde with a bubbly personality on air that usually does social and celebrity news segments.

Behind them he sees the other poof of blonde hair belonging to Miranda, who does her fair share of showmanship as the meteorologist. Standing next to Wayne himself at shoulder height is Rich, their sports reporter, in a suit that seems to be the only one he owns albeit the absurd selection of ties he comes into work with, every day a different one. He's jiggling the loose items in his pocket with the hand that is shoved inside, the other running over his slicked back raven hair.

Wayne nods his head towards the front of the lobby and nudges his co-worker with his elbow, giving a pointed look to a heavy set redhead standing nervously next to the group as he questions Rich, "Who's the guy in red?"

"Oh, it's that kid that works under Roxanne as her camera man. Uh, shit, forgot his name." Rich shifts his weight from one foot to the other, snapping his fingers in deep thought.

"Stephen. No, it's something with an "H", I think. Hank. Eh, Hal... Hal!" He slaps his hand across his thigh with a snap, an affirmation of remembering correctly.

"And who invited him?" Wayne asks, eyeing the front suspiciously.

"Invited himself. Overheard the girls talking about it over in the break room, took it as an open invite," Rich replies, suddenly interested in the dirt underneath one of his nails.

Wayne looks over to the front again just in time to see Roxanne walk into the lobby with Amlin on tow. He nudges his friend with his elbow again to interrupt with another question.

"I assume the handyman invited himself, as well?" he motions with his head towards the front, his perfect pompadour never straying a hair.

"Handyman? Dude, he's our tech operator. Runs the whole gallery himself, supposed to be a genius of some kind. Only reason we rarely see him is because he holes himself in there day in and out. No one even knows when he's there or not."

Rich looks up to Wayne with doubt. "He can also repair anything you throw at him, which is probably the only time you get to see him. How could you not know that? I mean he's been working with us just as long as Roxie and Menian have."

"I feel like an ass," Wayne grumbled, running a hand through his locks. "I can never get his name right and now that I think about it, if he is who I think he is, I owe him much more than just an apology."

Behind them at the counter, Menian started counting heads and is letting the receptionist know what size room they'll need for their group of ten. He's in the middle of talking and gathering their keys since they voted on drinking some more while spending the night at Wayne's apartment just two blocks away.

"Woo! Who's ready for more shots!" calls out Brittney, raising both of her fists in the air.

"Well shit," Roxanne breathes, stopping in her tracks on her way to the counter.

As the group is being led into one of the bar's bigger booths, Roxanne grabs a hold of Amlin's arm and pulls him out through the front door, looking back for a moment to meet Menian's eyes and give him a nod before heading back out into the cold.

"Wait, Ritchie, what are you, where are we going?" he asks with confusion.

"Somewhere safer for you, and less crowded for me." she replies as she pulls him by the wrist down the street. "Besides, it's been forever since only the two of us hung out together. Menian mentioned you guys live around here. Easy walk?"

He nods quickly and they make their way through the late night crowd towards his home.

Back inside the bar, everyone has just settled down and are looking through the various menus on the coffee table in the middle of the room, going through drinks and food while the other half was trying to figure out what to sing first. Since Menian had claimed himself to be the "responsible adult", he had stepped aside and is taking care to make sure everyone makes it back to Wayne's apartment in one piece by the end of the night.

"Why don't I start with Blue Christmas?" calls out Henry, making his way towards the computer at the end of the room situated on a small desk against the wall, the screen that stretches across the back showing a live feed of him searching for the song.

"That's a great idea, boss. Gives us more time to look over which ones we're gonna want to do next, right guys?" Wayne says, trying to get on the older man's good side as per usual. He scoots over on the couch he's sharing with Menian and gives his shoulder a nudge. "Hey Menian? Where'd they go?" he asks, thumbing towards the glass door that overlooks the lobby.

Menian gives a shrug, raising a pierced eyebrow for emphasis. Through the speakers Henry's deep voice croons out the first of Elvis' famous sad Christmas song.

~I'll have a blue,

Christmas,

without you...~

Down a few blocks, Amlin and Roxanne are making their way through the streets towards his apartment. They walk in awkward silence as he tries to rack up the courage to thank her for saving him from further drinking holiday themed shots.

"H-hey, Ritchie?-" he manages to say before she interrupts.

"You don't have to thank me for anything,-" she cuts in, holding a hand out towards him to stop him from further talking. "-I was also saving myself. I can only be surrounded by the people I work with for so long."

She sees his eyes dart back and forth in confusion and she tries to clarify, "N-not that you or your brother are any bother, I love being around you guys, I would've preferred if it was just the three of us. You know it's been so long since we did anything together, I miss having you two over for lunch. When was the last time we did anything together?"

Amlin keeps his gaze down to his feet as he tries to recall himself. "I think, your birthday? We ended up taking over a genoise he made for you." he says, pronouncing the word jeh-nwaz like Menian taught him.

"Oh man that cake!" Roxanne recollects with a dreamy look. "He's a great baker by the way, you gotta let him know those cookies he makes are amazing. I don't trust anyone with their home cooking as much as I do with him. Last time Judy tried to make anything she gave Wayne food poisoning with her artichoke dip. And on live tv!" she groans, her hands swinging and swaying with her talking, and Amlin can't help but share a laugh.

"Yeah, everyone kept spitting it out saying it tasted like vinegar, and the worst part is she didn't add any!" he adds, and they both bend over in laughter at the memory of the reel being played over and over again, showing Wayne trying to be considerate and eating the dip Judy had made and brought to the station, bringing it to the show inside a Tupperware container and handing out bites to the anchors to try and figure out what was wrong with it.

"Turns out she used pickled artichokes instead of canned, mandarin juice because she didn't have lemons, and she added celery salt with oregano to it because she didn't know what spices to use." Amlin added as he crouches lower and lower, to the point he's sitting on the frosted sidewalk with tears rolling down his cheeks, Roxanne leaning her weight into his shoulder for support from laughing so hard on one knee.

They slow their laughter and try to catch their breath as they look at each other for a moment, when suddenly Amlin yelps and shoots straight up to Roxanne's confusion before she ends up doing the same, gripping her wet knee.

The snow their bodies was resting on had melted, and the cold water is nipping at their skin underneath the soaked clothes. They pat at the wet spots, trying to brush off any clinging snow before making eye contact, and the both of them shout "It burns!" at the same time, drawing out more laughter and stares from passer-bys as they walk shoulder to shoulder back to his home.

A few of them clap awkwardly after Judy had finished her rendition of Push it before the two blondes jump up from their shared seat and scramble to the front, One adjusting the microphones as the other types in their choice into the computer. Some from the group watch as the screen behind them starts scrolling through a list of artists starting with the letter "P".

The waitress is on her way out from bringing in another round of drinks along with a select choice of bar food from the menu on the table, most of which is slathered in yellow cheese, deep fried or served with several dipping sauces, to which all hands seem to be tearing apart before she can finish placing all the plates down.

Emptied out bottles of beer are grouped in numbers on the surrounding corner stands and drink glasses cluster on the coffee table that sits between the only two sofas in the room. Candy canes and chocolate coin foils are crammed into the candy dish that rests in the sea of shot glasses and used paper napkins.

Menian scans over the faces of his colleagues to determine their level of drunkenness and see if he has to cut off anyone just yet.

Henry and Judy are sitting to his right, talking over another possibility for a new segment for failed attempts at shared crafts and recipes that would be called "What not to do".

Across from him on the other sofa is Hal sitting on one end and Rich on the other. Between the both of them they had been trying to get the attention of Miranda and Brittney as the two were stuck sitting in between the guys, and they looked relieved when it was their turn to sing. He took note of that and is considering offering to switch seats with Wayne and himself so the four men would end up sharing the sofa instead.

As the sound of steel drums comes through the speakers at the end of the room, he looks over to his left to ask Wayne about his idea when he sees him gulping down another spritzer and placing in on the table next to three other empty glasses, and instead finds himself worrying if his brother's doing okay while miss Ritchie is watching over him.

~When you decided to knock on my door.

Did you remember what happened before?~

"It's um, roomy, in here. Didn't expect anyone to live inside one of these warehouses." Roxanne admits as Amlin holds open the door to his home for her to walk in. He scratches the back of his head with nervousness as he shyly considers his explanation.

"Y-yeah. After moving out of our parents, we wanted to make a point that we could sustain ourselves at a very young age, but everywhere we looked we found it impossible to be able to rent a place out while trying to live off of low income. So we hopped from one efficiency to the next until we saved up enough to buy an abandoned lot, converting it to eventually fit our needs." he says, still rubbing the back of his neck as he looks around nervously.

She tries to make eye contact but is distracted by the expanse of the open room ahead of her. The front door leads in immediately to a rail hallway that oversees the whole of the warehouse slash home.

"We?" she asks, her eyes moving across the room as they step down the short stairs to the main room.

"Yeah. Menian and I live together." he says, motioning an offer to help her with her jacket.

An open kitchen takes a good half of the right wall, having an island as a bar that doubles to give the kitchen a division between it and the living area, and the rest of the wall being converted to a small dining area.

The middle room is also divided into two sections; one being a modest living room layout, a typical sofa sectioning off where the room ends and what seems to be a workshop begins. Metal scraps and wires stick out from multiple boxes and milk crates closer to the back, with notes hanging overhead a desk that's centered in the middle of the back panel.

After helping her take her coat off, he nervously walks to the back and pulls a red velvet curtain through the half of the room to section off the work space, and when Roxanne gives him a questioning look he simply says "Just, work in progress. Pretty messy back there. I like to take things apart and see how they work, as a hobby." while a slow blush creeps its way to his cheeks and tips his ears.

She's never seen anyone blush that way and finds herself on the verge of joining him too, so she turns her gaze quickly to the two doors on the left wall and can see a blue light coming through one of them being open. The sound of water pulls her near almost in a trance. With a few steps she stands outside what seems to be a bedroom that has a massive tropical fish tank stretching beyond just being the headboard of a bed.

"That's my brother's room. He wouldn't mind if you were to go in, he loves showing off his collection." Amlin says over her shoulder as she walks in and takes a closer look at the glass.

Little groups of colorful fish swim through clouds of turtle grass and pink anemone sway with the current being formed by the passing clown fish. Small sea hares grazing over the sandy bottom prod their way around their neighboring hermit crabs searching for scraps of food.

She's been staring at the starfish stuck on one end of the tank's glass and doesn't notice he'd left until there's a drink slowly coming into her field of view. "Granada?" he offers with a small shake of the glass, and little bubbles make their way through the red drink to the top, pushing around a green sprig from an herb that he'd placed inside each cup. She takes the glass in both hands and gives him a raised eyebrow. "I thought you couldn't drink anymore?"

He smirks with a reply. "There's only so many pepperminty drinks a person can down before feeling like their stomach will betray them. Thought you'd like a change of scene."

She looks down at the glass and shrugs herself before taking a sip. The sweetness of the fruit drink is intermingled with something herbal that she can't place a guess on because the carbonation cuts through before she can figure it out.

"How'd you know I like pomegranate soda?" she asks, lowering the drink and eyeing him suspiciously.

He raises his hands in defense, saying "Hey, my roommate is your secretary. Keeps the pantry loaded with that stuff in case he's running late and needs to give you a peace offering."

He feels his eyes widen with the realization he just gave his brother up. "Don't tell him I said that."

She laughs and pokes him in the ribs with her free finger as she jests "I knew he wasn't stopping at the gas station every time he was late."

They both walk out of the glowing room and she stares down at her drink before pulling out the green sprig from her glass. "Rosemary?" she asks with an impressed look.

"It's, ah, something I learned from Menian. Taught me a little on how to make certain things and pairing up flavors. So far all I got is the drinks part down, I still have trouble not burning down the place when it comes to cooking." he says with embarrassment as the two make their way to the kitchen.

"Well, let me help you with that." she laughs, handing him her drink and rolling up the sleeves of her purple dress shirt, heading directly towards the fridge. He smiles back and places both of their drinks on the counter next to the ovens before adjusting the sleeves of his flannel button-down as well.

~You-you-you

oughta know~

The two women finish their second song with a curtsy and giggle their way back to their seats, only this time it's next to Henry and Judy instead, and the four men sitting across show their discomfort with one another as Judy makes the suggestion that Rich and Hal try their hand at singing next. Their looks of mortification draws silence from her and more giggles from the blondes.

The two look at each other and sigh as they try to muster the courage to get off the seats. They hesitate on getting up when the two women stand and offer to sing as back up if in turn they get to choose the song. With mixed feelings of fear and redemption the two guys nod in agreement and race to get up off the sofa.

Alright, the four of them are getting their last after this- Menian thinks as he decides if he's going to intervene on the song choice, fearing it might be a demeaning song as they start their scroll through the "O's". But when he sees them going through Outkast, he breathes a little easier knowing none could be terribly off-putting. For the group singing, at least. He looks back to Wayne and see's he hasn't slowed his flow one bit and tries to distract him with conversation instead.

"So. How're the folks? Anything new going on lately?" he asks as he politely reaches for a handful of salted nuts that're sitting in a bowl on the table. Opening the fist over his mouth he starts his chewing as Wayne says "I'm going to ask Roxanne to marry me." while staring blankly straight ahead, still grasping his drink in hand over his waist.

Menian's brown eyes go wide and he starts coughing up the nuts, bits peppering off into his hands and lap. After clearing off the food into a napkin he looks over to Wayne, the chain attached to his earrings tinkling from the fast swing of his head. He stares hard at the drunk, wondering if the sentence is formed from his actual thoughts or if his mouth was taken over by the alcohol.

He nervously scratches at the sideburns that go down his jawline as he takes into consideration the fact that he had never heard of their relationship being anything more than friendly, at least from miss Ritchie herself. Everyone else seem to have their own little rumor mill running but he knows you'd have to be blind to not see that there was nothing going on between them.

Although his little brother is a genius, smart as he may be he's as dense as a rock when it comes to women. Menian was painfully aware of the looks Amlin would give miss Ritchie when it was just the two of them, or at least when he thought they were alone. How he would always make sure her broadcasts went through without a hitch, and all the extra measures he took to ensure her safety after an incident where during the middle of an interview someone assaulted her.

He had blamed himself time and again for not checking the perimeters or reacting fast enough to deploy his security system he regulated remotely from the master control room at the studio. After seeing Wayne subdue the guy, Amlin had stopped trying to get her attention as much, and lessened their interactions to almost being obsolete, figuring he was no competition to the quarterback.

"I, didn't think you two were a thing." he says carefully, his fingers pulling at the tips of his dyed mohawk. He stops when he hears Wayne say, "Oh, we're not. It's not exclusive, but we might be taking things a step further soon. I just haven't figure the best time to tell her."

Menian had pulled a little too hard and has a couple of strands of green and black hair in his fingers, and he spreads his hand out over a wastebasket underneath the coffee table before leaning back into his seat and rolling his head towards Wayne. "And does she know that?" he asks.

Wayne stops his drink below his lips to respond, "Not yet."

They settle in as the four in front of the room get into position to sing together, the two men leading in front of the mics as the women sing back-up behind them.

Just as they start clapping their hands for the countdown, Menian leans over and whispers into Wayne's ear, "Well you might want to hurry up on that."

~One-two-three-uh,

my baby don't mess around

because she loves me so,

and this I know fo' sho~

In the warehouse kitchen, there's tomato sauce splattered on the back splash behind the gas stove-top with pasta noodles cooked onto the range and salad dressing spilled on the counter top by the kitchen sink. A wooden bowl full of tossed greens sits in between the two at the dining room table with specks of sauce and oil dotting their jeans. Roxanne giggles as she tries to scoop some of the dressing at the bottom of the bowl by using a lettuce leaf just as Amlin does with his bare hands.

"C'mon, don't tell me you don't know how to eat a salad without any utensils?" he asks as she drops the leaf back into the bowl with laughter.

"When in the hell would I ever need to learn that?" she retorts, reaching in to grab a grape tomato and popping it in her mouth. He's distracted for a moment by how unsuspectingly erotic that simple act was and shakes the thought away before replying "I mean, a house where two bachelor brothers live? You don't expect us not to run out of dishes every once in a while, do you? Sometimes we just use chopsticks for a whole week, and we eat soup and cereal out of mugs."

She snorts and says with a wink "I thought everyone did that. Makes it easier to drink when it changes temperature." and shrieks with laughter as he dips his finger into the bowl and dots the end of her nose with ranch dressing.

She gives him a playful punch in the shoulder and darts from the seat to clear the table, heading back to the kitchen to give the plates a rinse off and run everything through the dishwasher.

"Don't want to get Minion angry by destroying his kitchen." she says, and holds her breath. She turns around slowly to face Amlin, expecting him to scowl at her for using the nickname they taunt him with at work.

"Amlin, I'm so sorry. It, it slipped. You know I didn't mean it that way," she apologizes as he fans her off with a sideways smile.

"It's fine, it's fine. He's actually not bothered at all by it. Thinks it's the only way he get's people to notice him at work. He knows that when he get's in the zone of lugging the equipment around, he acts a little, well for lack of a better word caveman-ish. And he always follows you around at your command. I mean, he can't help it if it's his job but when he's out and about, it just seems to be in his nature to do so." he says as he soaks a towel with the running water and proceeds to wipe down the back splash.

"But what bothers him is when I step foot in the kitchen for anything other than a drink. So we keep this between you and me." he warns with a deadpan look. She laughs and sprays water his way before continuing wiping down the dishes and setting them all inside the machine.

After the clean up, they walk out into the living area and she strolls over to the low shelf that is built into the wall underneath the entrance walkway. She casually makes her way down the line, eyes scrolling over the music collection that expands in every which way and form. Some of the titles she's familiar with but most are names that are either unrecognizable or in another language.

"Can you even understand some of these records? This one is in french."

"Well, yeah. As a kid we traveled a lot, as part of a homeschooling curriculum. Naturally picked up on the native languages anywhere we went." she hears him reply behind her, and it might be the drink talking but she suddenly wishes he was closer.

Fingers rolling over the edges of the albums, she says "You guys sure do have a large collection of vinyl."

"It's something we couldn't get rid of when moving out of our parents. Growing up, our dad was always adding to the collection until we had more records than space to sleep in sometimes, so we made out beds out of milk crates and kept them underneath the mattress in the makeshift shelves. He just found it easier to bond with us over music than anything else, seeing how he was always called off to work at the prison."

She stops looking through the records for a moment and focuses on the conversation, letting her fingers flow through the albums mindlessly. "Your dad works at the prison?" she asks, curiosity creeping in on who her coworker was and the side of him she was finally being allowed to see.

"Yeah, he's the warden." he replied, almost nonchalantly.

She turns to face him, her blue eyes widening. "Your dad is John Parker? The man we interview every time we report on major cases? Where the convicted are sent to be held under lock-down if they prove to be too aggressive? That John Parker?"

He looks at her with half-lidded, uninterested green eyes. "Yep" is all he says, popping the "P".

She gives a simple, "Huh," before returning her attention to the records. Fingering through them she pulls two yellowed albums from the middle of the stack to look at the titles. "I'm surprised you two kept it to yourselves for so long. I mean, I understand keeping business and personal separate, and there's no reason for us to know, but your own dad? I guess it's more of a surprise, since you two look nothing like your fa-"

"Oh, the three of us aren't related. By blood, I mean." he interrupts as she was pulling out The Cry of Love album, the edge being held by the tips of her fingers.

Without letting go she slips it back into place and turns to face him again. "You what?"

"Menian and I. We're adopted." he says without a second thought, turning to shuffle his way back to the kitchen to fumble around through the glasses.

"Don't you think it odd the three of us look nothing alike each other? I mean he's bigger than dad. A lot bigger. I'm shorter than both of them by a long shot, Menian has brown eyes, our parents have grey and I have green. Green. It was hard finding out your brother who is a few months older than you wasn't related at all to you, or how your family who raised you is not actually blood. In the end I guess it all seems brutally obvious, but it doesn't change the fact that we're still family." He says casually as he makes his way back, fresh drinks in hand.

He hands one over to Roxanne and they both raise their glasses, he taking a sip as she gulps half of hers down, trying to take in everything she just heard. He goes to place his drink on the coffee table and she places hers under the railing of the overhead hallway before turning back to the music.

"Of course we had a rebellious streak once we found out, but my dad didn't help much by feeding us the type of music we we're listening to rebel with. Doors, Van Halen, Stones. Just kept handing it over to us."

"I can see how it influenced your, taste." she replies as she looks to him from over her shoulder; head shaved bald whereas his brother has a tall black mohawk with a line of lime green running down the center, a thin strip of hair going down from his bottom lip to his chin where Menian instead had a chin strap, a small row of rings pierced into his right ear and a single gold hoop in his left, the closest thing the two have in common with appearance.

His black and red button-down was still hanging open, exposing the black band shirt underneath of a flaming skull and lightning bolts. He has a silver watch on one wrist and a spike cuff on the other that're peeking over his pant pockets, where both of his hands are tucked into. He's kicking over one of his milk crate stools with the sole of his calf-high combat boots, his leather pants tucked into the tops.

He looks over to her and stops with his foot suspended in the air. "What?" he asks, keeping the boot up.

"Nothing," she laughs, turning her attention back to the records. "I just don't know how you can breathe in those things."

"Hey-hey-hey, it takes a certain amount of suave to be able to pull off leather jeans," he warns her, raising a fanned hand in her direction. "That, and my devilishly good looks makes them look all the better," he jests as he goes over to stand next to her and squat down to look at the albums at eye level, his wallet chain dangling on the ground with a soft tinkle.

She wonders for a moment if he's actually aware of how good he really looks, or if he's just being condescending to himself. He's in the action of going through the albums and pulls out the blue and grey one she was looking at just moments ago, flipping the cover over repetitively before slipping the vinyl out of it's sleeve, standing up to stroll a few feet down from where they were standing. He places it in a record player centered in the middle of the wall collection, working his way back down to a squat to be able to adjust the knob settings.

There's static coming in through the speakers before the sound clears out to an electric guitar being strummed slowly, followed by the sounds of another electric as a back-up, with drums and clashing cymbals coming into the background.

She looks to him and can see down his neck, where there's blue lines running across the back of his nape, along with the letter "M".

"I didn't know you have a tattoo." she says and watches as he tenses up, his arms slacking at first before returning to their natural movement around the records.

Through the speakers, Jimi sings,

~You got my pride,

hanging out of my bed~

"I don't." he simply replies. "It's a birthmark."

"Bullshit." she calls, and her straightforwardness blows him away, how she's so un-afraid to voice her opinion will never cease to amaze him. Taking a deep breath, he rolls his head back and forth to pop his joints then lets his head droop for another moment.

"You don't know anything about me, how can you be so sure of yourself about it?" he queried to the floor.

"It's not like you know everything about me," she disputes.

"Not everything, but I know enough."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges, crossing her arms. "Prove it."

He remains in a squatting position with his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging limply to the ground. He had practiced this over and over in his head and countless times in the mirror, but facing the possibility of letting Roxanne be aware of how much of her he actually knows all of a sudden seems discomforting to him. And down-right stalker-ish.

But she had to know. Putting all his cards on the table, he raises his head to look at the albums but doesn't raise it higher to look her in the eye.

"I know you went to Ann Arbor," he starts and she huffs with an eye roll, shrugging her shoulders as to give a wordless yeah? duh.

"I also know why. And it wasn't for the education," he adds causing her to stiffen, eyes moving to look elsewhere in a hurry. Her arms stay crossed but from the corner of his eye he can see her fingers dig slightly into her skin.

"You haven't had a decent relationship with your parents since high school. They wanted you to follow your dad's footsteps in Astrology, or take over your mother's firm over in Houghton, despite living closer to Copper Harbor. They favor your brother even though he's a drunk with no decent path in life because he still lives with them, because a close family is a loving family, as you say your mother puts it."

Her teeth grind back and forth in a slow, methodical pace as she starts to regret having challenged him. Not only because she didn't want to hear anymore of what he knew, but from the fear of hearing someone else describe herself, bringing to light everything she tries so hard to push into the shadows from herself.

"Because of some fights you had with them as a kid, now whenever you're stressed or need time to yourself you hide inside a library or bookstore. On some occasions when you take a trip to the lake-shore you come home with beach glass instead of shells, and you put them in dollar store jars over your kitchen cabinets where they can be seen from your sofa because you like the bohemian appeal they create. You prefer things that have chocolate in them, however when it comes to a Neapolitan you choose strawberry first because you think it's under appreciated. You've never had a pet even though you grew up in a small suburban town and you still don't have one because of work. The only living things in your apartment are succulents because you can't stand the thought of something dying under your care, And you despise the way no one seems to listen to you when it comes to actual problems at work."

She gapes at him, speechless of all but a few words.

"How do you know all of tha-" she tries to ask and he cuts her off.

"You know all those times you walked into the gallery moping, needing someone to talk to so you go on those rants of yours thinking I'm not listening?" he questioned rhetorically, staring into the sea of albums just beyond his reach.

He finally looks up to meet her eyes, gazing straight into the piercing blue, and slowly brings himself up to her level, taking a few steps forward until she can just about feel his breath graze across her skin, never breaking contact.

He makes a jerked movement with his right hand, bringing it up between them at first, then bringing his left so both hands are gripping the edges of his button down. He flips his hands out at the same time, causing the overcoat to open and drop around his shoulders, and he shrugs off the coat, letting it fall with a flump around his feet.

He raises his left arm, and while gripping the bottom of the shirt starts shoving his elbow into his waist and rolls the fabric over his arm and head, letting it hang off his right shoulder until it, too, falls on the ground. They stand mere inches from each other, as he fights the urge to reach out and hold her cheek as he's done so often before in his imagination, although usually it's the inverse on who's missing the clothing.

And they never break eye contact. Until he reluctantly turns around and she lowers her eyes to the nape of his neck, where she sees that it isn't lightning bolts, but streaks of dark blue veins that run parallel down his neck, and she sees that it isn't the letter "M" per se, but lines in a darker blue color that cross each other in such a manner that they could easily be mistaken for the letter.

"Is, is this why you always wear things with high necks?" she asks quietly, her voice sounding childlike all of a sudden.

His breath shakes as he makes a wordless sound.

She was distracted by the fact that his bare back was now facing her, and she didn't realize her eyes had wandered down the lines of his toned skin when she hears his voice bring her back.

"Spee-ider veins."

"Hmm?" she voices, her eyes still fixed on the curves his shoulder blades make when he rolls an arm. Then, after registering what he said, forces a blink and looks back up to his ear, staring at the shining loops when she asks, "Spee-ider? You mean spider?"

"Tomato, potato." he says in a tone that made it obvious he could care less about his mispronunciations. "Kids used to mock me in shool all the time for not knowing how to say certain words correctly, since I mostly learned from reading. Because of it, brother and I were treated kind of like outsiders most of the time, usually kept away from us throughout the day." he goes on to say, bending over to pick up his shirts from the floor.

He turns around slowly as he's righting the shirts while he goes on to say "Unless it was to play dodge-ball. Menian was much smaller back then, so I had to do a lot of the protecting when they launched the balls at us. You think he's an okay guy now but back then Wayne treated anyone who looked or thought differently like a target, so he would have Menian and I be the only ones on our team to defend ourselves, that little as-"

"Wait" she snaps, freezing him from his action of picking out strands of lint from his shirt and looking back up to meet her eyes. "You said you were home-schooled."

His open eyes go back and forth from her to the empty space surrounding her, and he looks at her to say "Before, we dropped out."

"You're telling me that you guys went to school with Wayne as kids?" Her face is closer to his now, showing something crossing anger and perplexity.

The surprised look on his face wasn't as much as from Roxanne not knowing, but seeming to actually want to. He nods his head slowly and adds "He's the reason we dropped out."

Her head stays in the same position as her eyes roll down to look through his chest.

"Twenty years," she mutters, recalling what he had said earlier and just now processing it.

She shakes her head in disbelief and turns to walk towards the sofa. "Y-you didn't know?" he asks, eyebrows raised in a questioning matter as he continues to call out to her "But you and Wayne spend most of your days together, I mean I thought he would've at least mentioned it once during one of your dates-"

"DON'T" she calls out sternly, raising her hand out towards him as she turns her head back with a glare. "You may think you know everything, but that's one thing you're dead wrong on. Everyone thinks we're an item, a "thing"," she quotes with her fingers. "And no one ever bothers to actually check with me to confirm, they just throw around assumptions because he's mister Metro, the gem of the city, he can get anyone he wants. Saves me from a guy who gets too grabby with me on camera, ONE guy, and everyone thinks I'd jump in bed with him the next night. If the cameras weren't rolling live this rumor wouldn't have started in the first place!" she cries, throwing herself onto the sofa.

~Freedom, freedom, give it to me.

So I can live.

Freedom, freedom, give it to me.

So I can give.~
sings through the quiet between them.

She takes a moment to look around and pulls one of the blankets that lay across the sofa to cover herself in a bundle. "I'm sorry." she calls out, one of her hands coming out from under the fabric to start rubbing at her temples as she looks through her fingers to him standing on the other side of the table, one arm still holding his shirts. Which he never put back on.

Does he know what he's doing or is he that unaware of his own body? she wonders as she peers through the safety behind her fingers.

In the background, the beat coming through the speakers change as the record plays the next song.

She has never taken the time to actually look at him and take note of his appearance; his slender body isn't necessarily thin but has curves and hard lines that deepen when his muscles bend and flex. He's always wearing tight clothing with a baggy overcoat in the office, but he keeps the master control room dark and cold so she can never get a good look at his build.

She takes her hand down and pats the empty seat next to her on the sofa. "I'm just a little..., it seems you know so much about me already and I'm just now learning things about you. It feels, sad, seeing how we've all been working together and even hanging out sometimes for years and yet we never actually took the time to get to know one another." she says with a sad smile, and looks off to the side when he sits down next to her without saying a word.

She looks down to her hands and picks at a nail, the tension between them growing tense. The silence only breaks when he asks "You and Metro aren't dating?"

She stops fidgeting her fingers and looks over to him sitting there with clear surprise on his face, less than an arms length away and he's shirtless and what the hell are you waiting for, Roxanne?

~Drifting,

On a sea, of forgotten teardrops~

"Roxanne?" he calls out again and she snaps her blue eyes up to look into his green ones. "Why?" he asks gently.

"He's, well he's mister tall strong and handsome, his family is well off, I mean he's the most eligible bachelor out there, everything you could possibly want. He can.., take care of you." he says, with almost a pain showing in the gleam of his eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

There seems to be a million voices shouting through her head, but the only one she can hear is repeating one word.

"You" is all she says before closing the distance between them.

SONG NOTES!
1)"Blue Christmas" by Elvis Presley, Elvis' Christmas Album
2)"Let's Call it Off" by Peter Bjorn and John, Writers Block
3)"You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill
4)"Hey Ya" by Outkast, Speakerboxxx/The Love Below two disc album (TLB side)
5)"Freedom" by Jimi Hendrix, The Cry of Love
6)"Drifting" by Jimi Hendrix, The Cry of Love

So first of all, the idea behind this story came to me in the vision of a group of people singing karaoke, and one in particular sings Mr. Brightside by The Killers. I loved the idea but hated how the song is about a man who is so used to being the loser, he sits back and lets it roll over him when he loses the girl he wants.

So I thought, "why not make it about the man who is so used to having everything done his way, he doesn't expect to lose his supposed girlfriend?" and BOOM, 11,703 words later I thought "Oh crap. Hav'ta make this it's own story now"

And thus, The Empty Orchestra was born.

Also wanted to note, the name "Amlin" is an original of LadySpock7's, all credit goes to her and her incredible stories (seriously, amazing stuff there)

The scene of which Megs and Roxanne talk about the "Artichoke dip" actually happened in real life, and you can find it online if you search "(Bad)Artichoke dip(or fail)". It was the funniest thing I had seen lately and couldn't help but easily add it in when I thought of what they could possibly talk about on their way to his "lair".

Let me know how you take it so far, I know human!Megamind is a little farther than anyone's taste but, c'mon, this is a work of fiction.*says while obsessing over two characters potential romantic relationship*

-P.C.