Disclaimer: I don't own "Kim Possible", even if I enjoyed the "A Sitch in Time" movie way more than is probably healthy to admit. This is just one of a slew of Christmas-centric drabbles that I've decided to write this year, for no other reason than to spread holiday cheer (and possibly to keep my writing skills at least occasionally refueled if not sharpened to a point over my break from school). As such, this is just a moment with our two favourite villains; I take no responsibility for what comes out of their mouths under the influence of spiked eggnog, either.
Eggnog
"You know, Dr. D," Shego grunted after setting down the last of a slew of boxes she'd been "coaxed" into carrying inside; "I don't think in all the time I've been 'employed' by you that we've ever had a hide-out so . . . cozy."
Dr. Drew Drakken surveyed his and his cohort's surroundings critically. "Admittedly, Shego, a converted ski lodge is a definite step down from the high-tech skyscrapers and inconspicuous-yet-glammed-up buildings we're used to, but I think it'll suffice."
"I'm not complaining," Shego shrugged. "I mean, aside from the lack of furniture, it gives me a definite case of the warm-fuzzies. What's with the downsizing, though?" she probed. "You usually aim so high."
"I realize that," Drakken grumped, opening a bottle of eggnog and fishing two medium-sized goblets out of one of the boxes to fill with the thick liquid. Shego sniggered as he popped open small containers of bourbon and cognac and added them to the mixture.
"Spiking my drink?" she grinned as he handed her one of the goblets. Taking a long sip, she considered their current situation. "So in the words of our favourite Middleton cheerleader and the daughter of your worst enemy, 'what's the sitch?'" she cracked.
"What do you mean?" Dr. Drakken replied a bit gloomily; he downed one glassful of the spiked beverage and quickly moved to make himself another.
"I mean, what's your next brilliant plan?" she said, exasperated. "More feminist robots? Perhaps another pseudo-brilliant team-up with another evil-doer? Or are you just planning to steal Christmas?"
Drakken shook his head and swilled down the second glass. "To be perfectly honest, Shego, I don't really have anything in the works at this particular point in time. Also," he admitted, "my funds are running kind of low."
"Exactly the reason to steal Christmas," Shego urged jokingly. "Think of the loot! The destroying of children's hopes and dreams with a single drop down the chimney! The trendy green-and-red garb!"
"I'm Jewish," Drakken stated flatly.
"Oh." Shego took another sip of her first glass as Drakken reached for a third. "Well, y'know, it's not the worst situation, really," she said brightly. "I mean, cabins are all the rage in December; it's so cliched that it's almost home-y!"
Drakken raised an eyebrow; "you don't have family or friends to share the holidays with?"
"Me?" Shego asked, smile dimming just a little. "Not really; my mom's dead and my father's kind of a deadbeat. There's my goody-two-shoes brother, but you can imagine that we don't have much to talk about; and neither of us really get along with the extended family unit much." She looked over at her bleary-eyed employer. "What about you, Dr. D?"
"Oh, you know, I sort of self-imposed my own isolation from family," he said, waving his hand in a too-blatant attempt to make it seem like he wasn't affected by this admission. "It makes December a little bit colder, but it's nothing I can't handle." The two villains sat in silence for several minutes, the only sound in the small living room the slurping of eggnog.
"You know what, Dr. Drakken?" Shego exclaimed suddenly, perhaps even a bit tipsily; "who cares if this isn't a traditional lair or traditional means of celebrating or, well, traditional family. Christmas - and Chanukkah - wasn't just created for people who cared about all the baubles and bows. Screw tradition!" she asserted heartily, chugging down the second glass of eggnog that Drakken handed to her with renewed vigor.
Her employer grinned a bit. "Did you just refer to 'us' as a family, Shego?" he slurred.
"Well . . . yeah, I guess I did," Shego replied, blushing a bit. "Funny, that."
"Hilarious," Drakken cracked, and barked out a drunken laugh for emphasis. It ended up a rather loud, raunchy burp, and Shego, not particularly sober herself as she swigged down her second glass of spiked eggnog, eventually elicited a belly laugh in response. "I think I'm a little schleepy," Drakken grinned through watery eyes. He attempted to stand up, but swayed so dangerously that Shego offered her own arm for support.
"C'mon, Dr. D," she laughed. "I saw a cot in one of the other rooms; you go lie down and I'll bring you a couple of blankets, okay?" She couldn't help but notice the way her employer's arm was looped around her waist almost protectively, or the fact that his fingertips danced ('unconsciously?' she wondered) across her middle. It alternatively tickled and sent shivers down her spine; 'I must be drunker than I thought', she decided.
Eventually, the two stumbled into the aforementioned room, and with much effort on the slighter of the pair's part, Shego deposited Drakken on the worn-yet-durable-looking cot. She sashayed back to the living room area to dig around in the boxes for makeshift bedding, and eventually produced three blankets. 'These should keep Dr. Drakken sufficiently warm,' she noted thoughtfully to herself, and carried them back to "his" room. The older man's form was prone, but he grinned up at his cohort as she draped her findings over him.
"Goodnight, Shego," he rasped, planting a slightly messy kiss on her cheek as she bent over him to tuck the blankets around his body. Surprised, she touched the side of her face with her fingertips, wondering vaguely if they were as soft as the ones he'd been trailing across her stomach just a few moments ago. Chalking the ruminations up to being awake so late into the night (stealth required adapting to the wee hours of the morning by developing villainy-sanctioned insomnia), Shego walked to the doorway and looked behind herself just once.
"Goodnight, Dr. Drakken," she whispered.