Pieces of this fic have existed since August 2012 and I'm so relieved to finally be getting it out into the world! The egg is not actually the point of this fic, as much as the hurt/comfort and the relationship stuff, so I'm not sure if there will be a followup. I'd like to write a little more, but I just don't know if I'll have time between some of my other projects. We'll see! I am excited about the biological implications in this fic - there's a type of parthenogenesis called deuterotoky, which involves gene recombinations and allows for offspring of sexes different from that of their parent. So, kids would receive 100% of their DNA from Megamind, but they would only be half-clones, if that makes sense. I may need to revisit that, later.

As always, please feel free to take any headcanons you like and play with them. The skin thing is new, I'm not sure if I'll be keeping it...but I do enjoy the idea of Megamind's skin changing in the water, sort of the way our fingers prune up after a while. And the angst possibilities are delicious :3

(care warnings for some blood, mentions of past bullying, and an implication of something that might be prior suicidal ideation.)

Monotremata (Come What May)

Roxanne stands up and stretches, checks again to make sure her purse is securely stowed in her larger carryon bag as the gate agent begins their boarding process. Finally. A two-hour plane delay isn't a lot, compared to some flights she's had, but when you're already at the airport when you get the text alert, it certainly is irritating. She can only play so many rounds of Bubble Witch before she starts getting cranky.

Relieved to finally be on the move, she takes advantage of her later boarding group to call her boyfriend and let him know her travel status.

Megamind picks up on the third ring. "Roxanne?"

She smiles. "Hey, love. Just wanted to let you know the plane's finally boarding, so I should be home around six."

"Six, good. Good. Delayed flights, such a pain."

She blinks, frowns. "You okay?" He sounds…not slurred, exactly, but distracted, which is unlike him. Megamind can focus on multiple tasks at once perfectly well.

"Hm? Oh. Yes, good. I'm. I'm good."

"You sound a little out of it, you sure?"

Megamind huffs into the phone. A laugh? "I…had a late night. I'm just. Tired."

Roxanne hesitates. Megamind has lots of late nights; his sleep schedule is all over the map due to his extraterrestrial circadian rhythms not quite syncing with Earth's cycles—but then, he does tend to stay up even later than is healthy for him when Roxanne isn't around to back Minion up on when he needs to sleep, and entice him to bed with promises of late-night cuddles. "Okay. Maybe take a nap, then?"

He scoffs. "Evil never sleeps, Miss Ritchi, you know this."

She grins. That sounded more like him. "Evil might not sleep, but Defenders need their rest. Oh, they're getting ready to board my group, I've gotta go."

"Okay," he says. Far away, in Evil Lair, Megamind shakes his head at himself, trying to focus. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Roxanne's voice says, small in his ear. "I'll see you soon."

Unable to prolong the conversation any longer, Megamind hangs up the phone and hisses a breath between his teeth. Roxanne's call was a lovely distraction, such as it was, but the pain clawing at his body isn't something he can ignore anymore. Speaking is difficult.

Maybe she's right. Maybe a nap. Evil gods know he isn't getting any farther on the designs he was trying to work on earlier to take his mind off things. And—he is. Tired.

Shivering, he stands, pressing one hand to his abdomen and the other to the wall of Evil Lair as he pauses to adjust to the change in position. He hasn't gotten out of his pajamas for a few days, now; he hasn't been able to bend enough to do so, and his skin is—this morning it started doing the horrible-gross-ugly-awful thing that he hates—that it usually only does after he's been in the water for too long, but—

At least the palms of his hands are dry. His palms, and the soles of his feet. But the rest of him is, ugh, just disgusting, slippery and damp and his pajamas are clinging to his arms and legs as he moves, which he also hates.

"Sir?" Minion asks, sounding very worried. "Is…are the designs not working?"

Megamind shakes his head gingerly, blinking to try to dissipate the ripples of vertigo that accompany the motion. "Going back to bed," he says. "Nap. Resting."

"Did you talk to Miss Ritchi?" Minion asks, hope in his voice. "I heard the phone ring, I…have you told her?"

Megamind grits his teeth. "Nap," he says again, moving slowly away down the hall, hunched around the swelling in his abdomen. He bites back a soft whine as another wave of pain sears through him. "Resting."

Minion watches him go, worrying.

Roxanne calls Megamind again as soon as she's able to take her phone off airplane mode, but he doesn't pick up. Well, that's okay. She calls Minion, instead, and tells him she's on the ground and heading for the baggage claim, and she'll be home within the hour.

"Oh, good!" Minion says, with obvious false cheer. "Oh, good. That's good. Miss Ritchi, um, when you get home, can you—can you please come talk to me? First? Sir is—can you come talk to me? I'll probably be in the kitchen."

Roxanne blinks. "Sure," she says, surprised. "Is everything okay? He mentioned he had kind of a late night, last night."

"Um," says Minion, "I'm—I'm not sure. I think—maybe not. I think maybe not everything is okay."

Now very worried, but knowing Minion isn't likely to disclose details over the phone, Roxanne nods. "All right," she says. "Yeah, I'll come in through the kitchen, then. Have—can you just tell me, is this about something I…?"

"No no no no no," Minion says quickly. "No. You're fine. It's definitely not like that."

Well, that's a relief, at least. It's been a while since they've had any verbal misunderstandings, and Roxanne is pretty sure Megamind would have said something to her directly if that was the case. He is pretty good about that, these days. Still, she does get nervous, sometimes, wondering if she's said or done something that accidentally tugged on one of Megamind's insecurities and he's having trouble telling her.

"Okay," she says, mildly reassured but still full of misgivings. "Thanks, Minion. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," he replies. "Um. And—please hurry?"

Roxanne's gut twists. Something is very wrong. "Will do."

She hangs up the phone, already chewing on her lip. Something is wrong. Megamind or Minion isn't okay and something is wrong, it was probably wrong when she talked to Megamind earlier, and he didn't say anything about it. Was it wrong earlier this week? Why wouldn't Minion call her? Why wouldn't Megamind say something?

She grabs her bag off the carousel and heads for the door at a half-jog.

Minion is right where he said he would be when Roxanne lets herself in. "Hey," Roxanne says, shrugging out of her coat and passing it off to the bots who carried her up to the little rooftop patio so Roxanne could enter through the kitchen. "Minion, it's so good to see you."

He clanks over, meets her halfway and pulls her into a hug. "It's wonderful to have you home, Miss Ritchi. We missed you."

"So, what's up? Is Megamind around?" She smiles uncertainly up at him. "Don't tell me he's out running errands when I get home after a week away."

Minion hesitates, his features going sort of stiff, and Roxanne feels her smile fade.

"Minion?"

He shakes his head. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ritchi. He's…resting. I wouldn't wake him."

She cocks her head. Despite her suggestion of a nap earlier, she's never known Megamind to rest unless something is seriously wrong. "Is he okay?"

He squinches his face a little. "He…he hasn't been…feeling well? For the last couple of weeks, really."

"Weeks," she echoes, shocked. "He never said anything to me." And Roxanne has seen Megamind sick once before; she had to almost bludgeon him into submission before he would let himself slow down even a little. Just how unwell was he feeling?

"He doesn't like to worry you," Minion tells her, his tone apologetic. "And we thought it would get better, we thought it was just…but it's, it's getting worse. He's—been having cramps, the past couple days, and—well, frankly, neither of us knows what to do for him. We were hoping it would just pass, but then after you left he got so bloated and feverish and I just…"

Roxanne stares at him, trying to picture this, trying to not focus on he doesn't like to worry you as if it's some kind of valid reason for Megamind not to tell her he's sick. "Bloated?" she says. "But he's a stick."

"I know. He—"

"MINION!"

Both heads turn in alarm. Megamind is screaming.

"MINION I NEED YOU!"

Roxanne reaches up and clenches both fists in the long fur of Minion's shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist as he launches himself into a run. It's far easier than trying to keep up with him when he drops to all fours like that.

He skids to a halt in Megamind and Roxanne's bedroom doorway and Roxanne lets go of him and drops to the floor, her arms trembling. Hanging onto Minion when he runs is not much better than trying to keep up, honestly.

He peers into the bedroom. "S-Sir?"

Megamind is stark naked and backed against the wall by the door, both arms outflung with his skin leaving marks on the paint, as though he had leapt out of bed and scrambled as far away as he could get. His chest is heaving and his eyes are the largest and his eyebrows the highest Roxanne has ever seen them. He's white to the lips, staring at the bed, terrified.

"Megamind?" Her distress at not having known about any of this will have to take a back seat, for now. "Megamind, what's wrong?"

His gaze flicks to her and he actually cringes. He does not look at all happy to see her. He also doesn't look bloated, not that she can see, but there's a shine on his skin that he usually only gets after he's been in the water for a while.

"Sir," Minion says, looming worriedly behind Roxanne, "Sir, what happened?"

"I don't—I don't know! I don't know." He presses his lips together and swallows, slowly unsticks himself from the wall so he can stagger over to the wardrobe and retrieve his dressing gown, both hands pressed to his abdomen as he moves. "I was—my stomach hurt? I was, I think I was going to go to bed but I don't remember—I think—I think I passed out, and I had a lot of exceptionally awful dreams and then I woke up and—" He cuts off, looking positively ill.

"And?" Roxanne prompts desperately.

He gulps and flaps a hand towards the bed, makes a sort of gibbering questioning sound, then wraps both arms around his stomach, rounding his shoulders and stumbling to press himself back against the wall again, breathing hard.

Hesitant, nervous, Roxanne crosses over to the bed and starts to sort out the tangled pile of sheets and blankets. Then she stops dead in her tracks.

In the middle of the black comforter is a soft-looking oblong shape. It's quite large and pale-pale blue, smeared here and there with fluid, and the surface when she puts her hand on it is sort of leathery and forgiving. Megamind hisses at her from across the room, "Ew, don't touch it!"

She stares at it. "Did…did you lay an egg?"

"I don't know!" he cries. "I—I don't know how I could have—I don't have the necessary equipment—"

"You laid an egg," she says, dumbfounded. "I think you must have the necessary equipment—"

"But I've checked!" he wails, and follows this with a very long inhale that is probably going to turn into some kind of screeching noise as soon as he gets enough air.

"So maybe you're like an oyster," she says just as he opens his mouth, and he pauses.

"What?" he asks in a high little voice, bewildered.

"Maybe," she repeats, trying to sound like this is totally reasonable and not at all weird, "you're like an oyster. Your body changed some things around because there's only one of you."

He blinks at her and exhales in a rush. "But," he says weakly, "I don't—I don't have boobs." Then he rounds on Minion. "What is funny about this? This is serious!"

"I'm sorry, Sir!" the little fish says. "It's just, you're both acting like you don't know what to do!"

Roxanne turns around, feeling suddenly panicked. "What are we going to do?" she asks. "Do we need to—sit with it? Incubate it? Does it need direct sunlight?"

"But isn't it obvious?" He looks from one to the other, faltering a little. "I—I mean, isn't it?"

Roxanne glances at Megamind, who's gone back staring at the egg on the bed and just looking completely flabbergasted. "It isn't obvious to me."

"It goes in the pool," Minion says, as though this is as simple and sure as saying the sun is warm. "It's my job now; it goes in the pool. It…I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be there to begin with? But I know just the place. Not too open, not too small. Good depth, nice current." He blinks at them. "You…really didn't know?"

Roxanne shakes her head. Megamind doesn't respond.

Concerned, Roxanne turns to him and puts a hand on his arm; he jumps and stares around at her. "Are you feeling okay now, at least?" she asks, and he shakes his head. His eyes are still enormous.

Roxanne steps closer and pulls him into a hug. He huddles against her, hiding his face against the curve of her shoulder, his arms still clenched around his stomach. He's shaking.

Okay, Roxanne will run point on this, then. "I don't see how it can possibly be fertilized," she says slowly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her boyfriend's spine, "but I also wasn't expecting you to be able to do that, so…I'm thinking we proceed as if it is. At least for now, just in case. Sound good? Megamind?" He gives a tiny nod. "Minion?"

"Sounds fine to me, Miss Ritchi," Minion agrees, clanking over to pick the egg up in both hands. "I'll go ahead and get it underwater. You, um…maybe stay with Sir. And…maybe change the sheets."

As the door swings shut behind him and the—the egg, good lord—Roxanne pats Megamind on the shoulder. "Hey, hon? You with me? I'm going to get you some pajamas and then I'm going to change the sheets, okay?"

He shakes his head. "Change the sheets," he mumbles into her chest. "Then a shower. Need. Need a shower."

She nods, kisses his clammy forehead as she steps back. "Of course," she tells him. "Absolutely, we can take a shower. Do you want to do that first?"

He swallows hard and backs away from her, still shivering, his eyes squeezed closed. "No, I'm. I'm okay for now."

"Okay," she says, worried. She peels the covers back and piles them by the door, switches the black sheets out for a set of very dark gray ones. Megamind's side of the mattress isn't even damp; he must have been lying on top of the blankets when he lost consciousness; they definitely caught the worst of it. Good. Roxanne figures they'll deal with the blankets later and just makes up the bed with clean ones and a fresh quilt as quickly as she can.

(why didn't he say anything to her)

(why didn't roxanne know about any of this, why wasn't she here to help)

Then she turns back to her boyfriend, who hasn't moved an inch. "Megamind?" she asks. "Love? I'm done. Can I take you over to the bathroom, get you cleaned up?"

He nods, and Roxanne slips her arm around the small of his back and escorts him into their bathroom, where she turns the water on to start the cold shower tiles heating up. Freshwater—it's March; Megamind is in a salt cycle; fresh will help rinse the slime coat quickly off him without creating more.

(How on earth did he manage to even produce one? Usually he has to be submerged for almost an hour before that starts. God, and he hates when that happens; he gets so cranky and snappish and embarrassed.)

She's out of her clothes in record time. Then she peels Megamind out of his dressing gown, and—

She stills. There's red down the insides of his legs.

"Oh," she says softly. "Okay. Sweetheart, you're bleeding."

"I don't think I am anymore," he says miserably, not looking at her. "I think—I think it's just—leaking."

Roxanne studies him for a moment. He looks like he's trying not to cry; his mouth is pinched shut and his eyebrows are scrunched together low over his eyes. And he's still hugging himself, and not looking at her, and—if he was anyone else, Roxanne would ask if he wanted to be alone. But this is Megamind, who hates being alone if Roxanne is there to be with him, and who still, sometimes (often), worries about being too alien for her. As if he could be "too" anything for Roxanne.

She takes his head in both hands and presses a kiss to his forehead, and then another to the thin twist of his mouth. "Come on," she whispers, and tugs him into the shower. "Come on, love, I've got you. Are you in pain, is anything torn?"

"Yes pain," he mumbles, standing motionless under the water as it rinses him clean. "I think…I think no on the tearing."

"Do you want me to check?" she asks. Megamind's face scrunches down hard at that, and Roxanne steps in and puts her arms around him without waiting for an answer. He tucks his face back down into her neck. After a moment, his shoulders hitch, and—

"Oh," Roxanne says again, "oh, my love." She hugs one arm across his back and curls the other up so she can splay her hand on the back of his head and brush her thumb back and forth over the shower-warm skin of his skull. "Okay. I've got you, love; Megamind, sweetling, I'm here…"

She holds him and murmurs a low litany of whatever reassurances and pet names she can think of into his ear, doing her best to reassure him without saying you're fine or it's okay. These were probably the worst couple weeks he's had in a long time and Roxanne isn't sure how to describe "going to sleep and waking up to find your small-size body has laid a large-size egg" except as traumatic, even if you knew your body could do that. And Megamind didn't. And she wasn't here for him for any of it.

After a while, she squeezes him a little. "Megamind," she says. "Megamind. Hey, love, I think we probably do need to check on you, unless you really don't want me to?"

"I really really don't," he chokes, "but—I think—I think you're right, we—we should. But I—" He huddles into her harder for a moment. "I don't think I can. Sit. Right now."

Their shower is enormous, because when you're a semi-aquatic evil overlord, of course you want a big fancy shower with big fancy jets and a nice big showerhead that feels like warm rain, and of course it has places to sit. But, ah, yes. Right. No, that wouldn't be comfortable.

Roxanne frowns for a moment, thinking, and then an idea strikes. "You don't have to. I'll be right back, okay? I'll be right back."

Megamind nods and steps back, and Roxanne darts out of the shower and into their freezing bedroom, sweeps everything off the low bench at the foot of their bed, picks the whole thing up, and carries it into the bathroom with her. The water is definitely going to ruin the upholstery, but upholstery is seriously the least of Roxanne's concerns at the moment. She puts the bench down in the shower, then grabs several clean washcloths off the linen shelves before hurrying back under the warm spray.

"We really don't have to do this," she tells him, because Megamind is just kind of glaring at the bench with his mouth all twisty, "you're…pretty robust, physically; I think you'll probably be fine."

He shakes his head. "I also don't usually feel pain, much," he says. "And I'm—kind of in a lot of it, right now."

Roxanne blinks. "External or internal?"

"Both?" He swallows. "I think internal is probably muscle, though. And. It is—less, now." Incredibly, he does seem to be calming down, some. Roxanne's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Okay," she says, stepping in close and rubbing a palm up over the side of his head again, dropping a quick kiss onto one of the closed spiracles over his collarbones, "here, I'll…I'll help you lie down, okay? And do you want me to clean you off while I'm down there?"

He nods.

Deeply worried and trying to hide it, Roxanne braces herself so Megamind can grip her arms and slowly lower himself onto his back. "There we go," she says as he reclines and releases her, his teeth gritted, "there we go. Okay. Okay, knees up, let me see. Can you put your leg over my shoulder? Yeah, and put your other foot—there. Perfect." She's positioned the bench so she'll have light without having to actually shine anything on him; that would feel entirely too clinical and Megamind would be even more uncomfortable than he already is, which is uncomfortable enough to have folded both arms up over his face.

Other than the smears of blood rinsing away, he looks mostly the same as he always does. Inflamed and swollen, definitely, and more lax than usual, and he jumps and hisses when she gently wrings the washcloth over him to help the blood rinse away faster—but not torn that Roxanne can see, thank god, and not actively bleeding.

"I think you'll be okay," she says, carefully rinsing the rest of the blood off his legs and cloaca as gently as she can. "It doesn't look like you need stitches, or anything. Just take it easy for a while, I think?"

Megamind doesn't respond, and Roxanne hangs the washcloth over one of the internal shower bars and comes to perch on the bench next to him, smooths a hand over his chest. He's shivering, despite the warmth of the shower. "Hey," she says, her voice soft. "You're all clean, love. You want to go lie down in the bed? Cuddle for a while, maybe get some rest?"

He still doesn't really reply, but he pulls a deep, shuddering breath and nods. So Roxanne takes his arms and raises him up onto his feet, turns off the water, pulls his towel off the rack and dries him off: head, arms, back, front, legs. He holds still and just watches her do this, his thin face drawn and haggard, but he does pass her the other towel from the rack. Hopefully this is a good sign.

Roxanne darts back out into their chilly bedroom and gathers up Megamind's pajamas, then hurries back into the bathroom, which is still steam-warm and humid. "Here," she says, arranging his pajama bottoms and dropping into a crouch so he won't have to bend too much, "put your hands on my shoulders—and step—step—good."

"You don't have to do this," he tells her, his voice subdued, as she tugs his trousers up over his narrow hips. They're high-waisted; all of his pants are. The position of his sex on his lower abdomen makes anything else awkward in terms of rubbing.

Roxanne looks up at him, then steadies herself with a hand behind his knee so she can press her lips to the soft blue skin of his stomach, right about where she thinks his navel would be if he had one. His skin twitches under her mouth. "I am doing this because I want to," she says, standing. "Because I love you."

His expression twists. "I don't need pity," he says, low and scornful, turning away.

"Good, because you're not getting any." She holds out his top for him. "Come on, Megamind, I know for a fact you want to be wearing a shirt right now."

"I want to be nonexistent right now," he snarls, hands curling into fists. "I want to not exist, I want to not be thinking, I want—I—stop, stop looking at me, I—please, I can't—" He pulls his arms up again, hides his face in his hands and forearms.

Roxanne bites her lip but obligingly turns her face away and drapes his pajama top over his shoulders. He snaps his arms down and wriggles into his sleeves, his movements sharp, almost violent as he does up his buttons, glaring into nothing, his mouth pinched small and angry.

He leaves the bathroom without a word and stalks stiffly over to the bed, glares down at it for a moment, then pulls the covers back and grips his lip between his teeth to gingerly climb in and lie down. Roxanne doesn't offer to help, but she does watch, and she is ready to dart forward if he needs her.

She waits until he's settled, her heart aching. "Cuddles? Yes or no."

"No," he hisses, not moving.

Pretty much what she was expecting him to say. She nods. "Okay. I'm going to go get a glass of water, I'll be back in a couple minutes, okay?"

"Do what you want."

Roxanne closes the door quietly behind her, then heads down the hall to the kitchen. Gets some water. And then she asks Hex, unloading the dishwasher, where Minion is.

Minion is in one of the deaerator bays, doing maintenance work there. "Hey," Roxanne says, approaching. "Need to talk to you for a minute."

Minion straightens and blinks down at her. "How is he?"

"He's having a moment," Roxanne says. "But I don't want to stay away for too long. I just—Minion, how could you not tell me what was happening? Two weeks?"

He sighs. "I wanted to," he says. "I wanted him to tell you. It's…it's not my place."

"Your place," she echoes, stunned. "Your…okay. Minion, look." She doesn't have time to unpack that right now. "If Megamind is sick, I do not care whose place it is to tell me, it is my place to know about it, do you understand me? That goes for if you get sick, as well! I want to know! I can't just be going about my day, happy as a clam, while my partners are suffering!"

Minion recoils. "You don't have to feel badly about it, Miss Ritchi," he protests. "You couldn't know. We didn't tell you."

"I know I don't have to feel bad," Roxanne snaps. "I know. But I do. I feel awful, because Megamind was sick and in pain and I couldn't help with any of it, and that feels terrible."

"He didn't want you to worry," Minion says, again, but Roxanne cuts him off.

"He doesn't get to tell me what to worry about. Okay? And neither do you. You don't take that away from me. You don't—don't hide this from me. Do not help him hide this, not from me. A small illness, something known, fine. I get it. But something big like this—Minion, he passed out. He was bleeding when I got him into the shower."

Slowly, Minion nods. "Sorry," he says, quiet.

Roxanne shakes her head. "It's…it is what it is. Just. Please don't do this to me again. It isn't fair. It isn't fair to either of us for you to have to worry on your own, when I am here and I want to help."

Minion nods again. Roxanne nods back, then turns, biting her lip, and heads back down the hall to the stairs without another word.

She swings by the kitchen to refill the glass, and then, cold water in hand, she heads back to the bedroom, hoping Megamind will be more receptive to being hugged. She's upset, but she tables that for now—this isn't really about her, she can't make this about her, right now.

She opens the door. "Hey," she says, voice low, "you awake?"

No response. Which means yes, he is awake; if he was asleep and she asked that he would have at least stirred. Megamind sleeps like a dead man, but he is a dead man highly attuned to Roxanne. So she sighs, and approaches the bed, and sets Megamind's glass of water down on her nightstand. And crawls under the covers, crawls in behind him where he's curled on his side, facing away.

"I missed you," she says softly, "while I was gone." She settles slowly against his back and strokes her hand carefully down over his ribs. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you while you were feeling so sick. I wish you had—I wish I had known."

Megamind makes a noise low in his throat and rolls over. Roxanne has just enough time to see how hard he's been crying before he shoves his face against her chest and winds an arm around her waist and pulls himself close, clenching his long hand in her shirt, his whole body shaking with tears.

"Oh," she says, stricken, hugging his head with one arm and wrapping her other arm down over his thin back. "Oh, my love. Sweetheart, Megamind, hey."

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I'm—I'm sor-sorry I—I'm sorry—"

"Okay," Roxanne says, curling forward to press her lips to the top of his cranium, "okay. You don't have to apologize."

"—bit your head off—snapped at you—"

His head is on her arm, so she can't really stroke the back of it the way she'd like to, but she rubs her hand back and forth as best she can, her touch light. "Megamind, it's okay. I wasn't surprised, I was sort of expecting it."

He freezes, startled, and then squeezes his hand so hard in her shirt that one of his knuckles cracks.

Roxanne blinks. "Oh—no, not—not because it's you. Not because—I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it that way. Megamind, listen to me: these are normal responses. Feeling gross and lashing out is a normal response, do you hear me? Obviously it's not great, but—hey—" She jostles him a little, scoots down on the bed until they're finally face-to-face and she can press her forehead against his the way she knows he likes. "Look at me. Please. Please, look at me." His face is blotchy and his eyes are red and wet but he does, finally, look at her, and she tells him, "You have been through some horrible stuff this past week, and you just woke up to pretty much one of the most jarringly traumatic situations I can think of to wake up to. I wouldn't want anybody looking at me, either. I would lash out, too."

His forehead rumples against hers. "But I want cuddles," he rasps. "I did—I did want cuddles but—I also couldn't stand—I don't know how you can possibly be touching me right now; I wouldn't be touching me right now; I don't want to even exist right now—"

"I love you," she tells him. "Megamind, I love you. I always want to touch you." She ducks her head forward and kisses him: his mouth, his cheeks, the thin stripe of facial hair on his chin, his expansive forehead. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you, I'm so sorry I left you alone; darling, come here, let me hold you…"

Megamind eventually cries himself out and falls asleep with his head resting on Roxanne's chest, one arm curled between them and the other hugging her waist. She holds him quietly, his body cool in her arms and against her skin, his legs tangled with hers. Poor thing, she thinks, and okay, maybe she does feel some pity for him, but almost certainly not in the way he thinks of it. It's just…he spends so much energy trying not to feel as alien as he is in this world, and then this happens? Good lord. He can't get away from it.

Roxanne's mind raises the little flag that they haven't talked about children beyond establishing that Roxanne won't be able to conceive with Megamind. Does he even want kids? Does she want kids? If the answer is yes, and the egg isn't fertile, what then? And if it is fertile, but the answer is no, well…again, then what? Do they open it, stop whatever process is going on inside? Do they accept it as an obligation to continue Megamind's species any way they can? That seems like it would be terribly unfair to the child, but…

She has so many questions, and so few ways of obtaining any answers.

The soft rap on the door is, of course, Minion, coming to gather up the soiled bedclothes and check on his beloved bipeds. Roxanne moves her head at him, and he steps quietly over to them. For a machine made of metal and hydraulics, the gorilla exosuit can be surprisingly stealthy when Minion wants it to be.

"I am sorry," he says, very quietly. "I can understand why you would want to know."

Roxanne sighs. "It's…okay. It's okay, Minion. Thanks."

"How is he? Physically?"

"Exhausted, I think," Roxanne replies. "But I don't think there's any lasting damage."

Minion's brow furrows. "Well, that's something. Are, and you…have you decided…" He trails off. "Is any of this a dealbreaker for you, Miss Ritchi?"

She shakes her head, sighing inwardly. "I will support him in whatever decision he makes." She's sure about that, at the very least, even if she can't say why.

"Yes, but is it a dealbreaker," Minion stresses. "If it's fertile and he wants it but you don't—"

"Then I will adapt," Roxanne says, cutting him off. "Minion, I'm…I'm still thinking about it, okay? I don't have all the answers yet, but I know I want to stay with him. And you. For now, I'm working with that." She swallows, looking up at him from where she's lying with Megamind sleeping in her arms. "I love you," she says, and Minion smiles a little.

"I know." He nods. "I know you do, Miss Ritchi; I love you, too. I'm sorry. I just worry."

"I know." She pauses, then asks, "Do you want in on this? If you get in your ball, or—or I guess I can just scoot over and you can lie down—"

He hesitates, but shakes his head. "I think we better not move him," he decides, "if he's resting. I'll talk to him later; you seem like you have this pretty well handled for now. I'll go put the blankets and things in the laundry."

"Okay," she murmurs. In her arms, Megamind stirs and mumbles something, and Roxanne strokes his back. "Okay. Thanks, Minion. Can you turn off the light?"

He smiles and nods, and then he gathers up the bedclothes and heads off, switching the light off and closing the door gently behind him.

Roxanne closes her eyes, her throat suddenly thick. It's not really Minion's fault that he needed to ask if she was going to leave them over this. Not Roxanne's fault, either—she can't make Minion feel secure, no matter how hard she tries; that's not a failure on her part. And she knows they'll get there, someday. She's sure they will, eventually.

Still, it hurts.

Megamind stirs again, moans softly. "Oh," he whispers. "Ow."

Roxanne resumes stroking his back, swallowing her hurt, pushing it away again. "What's ow?"

"Everything," he groans. "Fuck. Everything is ow. Are you okay to just lie here like this? I don't think I can move."

Roxanne smiles up into the darkness, glad he's sounding a bit more lucid. "I can't think of anywhere I would rather be," she says.

Megamind is quiet. His back is very tense under Roxanne's hands.

"I missed you, this week," Roxanne tells him again. "I missed you so much. I kept thinking of what you would say, or what you would do. It hurt, not having you with me. And it was too hot in bed at night without you; I kept overheating and waking up with a sweaty, stinky pillow."

"Gross." Megamind lets out a weak sort of laugh, then winces with a hiss when it makes his abs clench.

Roxanne swallows. "I want you to know," she says slowly, "whatever you decide to do about the egg…I am behind you a hundred percent. And I'm not going anywhere."

Megamind doesn't say anything to that.

"Being without you for a week made me realize," Roxanne says, "just how much a part of my life you've become. One of the best parts of my life, I think. And I love you—god, so much, Megamind. I love you so much.

"And I always will," she continues, when he stays quiet. When Megamind goes silent like this, it's generally not a good sign. He doesn't argue with her on these things anymore, but he doesn't always agree, either. But Roxanne isn't sure what else to do except keep being there for him. "I…I want to sleep here, right here next to you, always. Every night, indefinitely, I want to be right here with you."

Megamind takes a deep, shuddering breath, and tightens his arms around her.

Roxanne continues to pet him gently: his head, his back. She steers well clear of his shoulders and neck; she isn't looking to start anything; Megamind is in too much pain for that and Roxanne knows it. All she wants is for him to feel comforted. Safe. Loved.

"…Even if," Megamind finally says, his voice shaking, and oh that's a bad sign; he usually has much better control, "even if I…if I lay eggs? Even when I'm slimy?"

Roxanne shifts to tilt her body towards him a little so he'll be in a better position for hugging. "Yes," she says, fierce, wrapping her arms around him, "I love you if you lay eggs and I love you if you're slimy. I love you and I love your body and I love how it works, even the parts of it that we don't understand."

He gulps. "And you still—do you still want me?"

"Yes," Roxanne says again. "Yes, I still want you. I will always want you. No matter what your body does or how it changes. Sweetie, you could turn into a…a fully-aquatic fish-man or a great big caterpillar, or something, and I would love you and I would want you and we would make it work. What your body is and what it does is beautiful and it will never be too much for me, I promise."

Megamind is quiet. After a moment, his breathing catches and he begins to shake again, turning his head to hide his face against Roxanne's shoulder. Roxanne resumes petting him as he cries, murmuring that she loves him, it's okay, this is okay, he's going to be okay and she loves him.

He spends so much time wishing he wasn't what he is. Wishing he could just be normal by human standards. He looks outwardly human enough, until you get his clothes off, and sometimes Roxanne has to wonder if this makes the totally inhuman reality of what he is harder for him to accept. He's terribly sensitive about his gills and the way his skin works in water, hates to even acknowledge it. It took him forever to relax enough to let himself vocalize in his subvoice around her. And now this: an egg, and his skin just up and doing something he was previously able to exert some measure of control over.

"I'm so-so tired," he grits out. "I'm so tired, I hate this, I hate it—"

"I know," Roxanne whispers.

"I don't want any more surprises," he gasps, "I don't want this body anymore. I'm tired of worrying, I'm tired of—I just want to be happy and—and I don't want to be in this thing anymore—"

"I know."

"You really—you really think I'm beautiful? you really think I'm—"

"I really do," Roxanne tells him. "Megamind, I really do think you're the most handsome, most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on."

"Still? Even now?"

"Still," she confirms. "Even now. And sweetheart, I know you don't like when your skin does the slippery thing, but I've told you before, I don't think it's gross. It's actually sort of fun, for me."

He sniffs. "That makes one of us."

Roxanne sighs. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," she says. Megamind just gulps again, makes a sad sort of noise in his chest, a hollow, mournful knocking in his syrinx. "Hey, are you still…does it still hurt?"

Megamind nods, hiccupping and miserable.

"Okay, I need to get up for a minute, then," Roxanne says. "I just thought of something that might help."

Megamind swallows hard, but he grits his teeth and slowly rolls away onto his back so Roxanne can get out of bed.

"I love you," she says, leaning over him, pressing a kiss to his high cheekbone. "I'll be right back, I promise."

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. It helps to hear that Roxanne loves him. It does help. And he knows, comparatively, things could be a lot worse. Earlier today, he honestly thought he might be dying. Between the fatigue that's plagued him these last two weeks, the vertigo, the on-and-off fever, the bloat—which turned out to be a motherfucking egg, of all things—and the intense pain, he wasn't sure if he was going to make it. All things considered, laying an egg is hardly the worst thing that could happen.

Maybe it's even a good sign. With Roxanne in his life, helping provide a much-needed anchor and source of routine, Megamind is healthier than he's ever been. The fact that this is happening to him now might mean his nutritional requirements are finally being met. Or maybe it's simply because he's now sexually active?

But Megamind was just starting to feel like his life was making sense. Was just beginning to believe Roxanne might honestly mean it when she says she doesn't mind all the myriad quirks of Megamind's biology—the gills, the spiracles above his collarbones, his bizarre dietary needs, his eyeshine, his voice. His fucking slime coat, jesus christ. Fun? She thinks it's fun that he occasionally feels like a—like a salamander. What the fuck.

(Not that he thinks she was lying to his face when she said she didn't mind, exactly; it's just…there's lying, and then there's telling almost-truths. Things you think should be true, and if you say them enough then they'll become true. Things like I'm okay, or clearly it was time to move on. Sometimes you even do believe them, for a while. Roxanne doesn't have to be lying for Megamind to have trouble believing what she's saying.)

But the things she said kept being honestly, really true, after Roxanne said them. She really, truly seems to enjoy his body, even the weird parts. Even his sex, which Megamind was convinced could not possibly be fulfilling for her—he broke down at her a few weeks after they opened that door and she just said, Megamind, humans with vaginas get together with each other and have happy, fulfilling relationships all the time; you do not need a cock to have a good time with your partner.

So, he knows. He does. She says she loves him and he believes her. She says she likes his body, and…and he can believe that, too. Most of the time.

Megamind heaves a shuddering sigh, trying to compose himself, and stares up at the ceiling in his darkened bedroom. He's…no. He feels. He feels too small, he feels too alien, and he feels disgusting. That doesn't mean he is those things.

Not that knowing that makes it any easier to bear, but it would be nice to believe it. Nice to believe he isn't actually as repulsively abhorrent as he feels. And usually he does, sort of, almost believe it. He doesn't usually feel this awful about himself, anymore.

He hears his bedroom door open and close again, and then the mattress dips under Roxanne's weight. "Okay," she says, crawling back into bed with him. "No, hang on, let me get this situated…can you roll on your side just for a—perfect, now lie back—and—how's that?"

Soft weight and warmth settle on Megamind's aching abdomen. There's something warm under the small of his back, as well, situated just above his pelvis, radiating heat.

"Oh," he says, startled. "Oh?"

"Double heat compress," Roxanne says, smiling down at him as she arranges herself at his side. She smooths her hand over his flannel-clad chest. "I hope it helps, at least a little."

"It is helping," Megamind says, reaching down to adjust the hot pad into a more favorable position. If nothing else, the warmth is soothing. "You do help. Thank you. You…you are so good to me, Roxanne."

Roxanne kisses his shoulder, then nestles in beside him and rests her head and her hand on his chest. Megamind sighs and puts his arm around her back and does his best to relax. Does his best to stop feeling like he's about to break into forty million pieces.

"I really do love you," Roxanne says, after a while.

"I love you, too," Megamind replies, his voice quiet.

Roxanne takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asks. She flattens her hand on his chest, brushes her fingers absently back and forth over his flannel. "Minion said…you were under the weather even before I left. But you never said a word. And when I called, you…every time, you made it sound like you were fine."

He doesn't reply. After a moment of waiting for him to answer, Roxanne keeps going.

"I just…everything was fine, and then I come home and I find out you've been feeling sick for weeks and didn't tell me? I should have been here! I should have been here, taking care of you!"

He swallows. "You were excited for your trip," he says, wishing they weren't talking about this now. He's tired. "You were having fun. I didn't want you to worry."

"But I want to worry," Roxanne exclaims, propping herself up on her elbow so she can stare down at his face. She can't see him very well in the darkness, but Megamind can see her just fine. "I want to worry about you, if you're sick! I want to fuss over you and try to help you feel better. Especially if it's so bad that it keeps you off your feet, Megamind, my god!"

"I'm…I'm sorry," he says. He presses his hand down on top of hers on his chest, curls his fingers under her palm.

Roxanne shakes her head. "And what if it didn't resolve on its own? What if you really were sick, what if you had ruptured something and you were dying—would you have said anything? You didn't, this time." She bites her lip and squeezes his fingertips. "Sweetheart, you were unconscious when I got home. You made it to your bed and you passed out. Do you have any idea how frantic I would have been to find you like that, if I didn't stop to talk to Minion first? And if—if it wasn't an egg, Megamind, if you really were sick—if you passed out and never woke back up, and you never even said you weren't okay—" She swallows hard, tears rising in her eyes. "It would destroy me."

He blinks. "But it's not your fault," he says slowly. "You didn't know." Roxanne just stares down at him like she can't believe what she's hearing. Megamind blinks again, frowns a little. "Oh," he says. "Oh, you're…really upset about this."

Roxanne's jaw drops. "Yes!" she cries. "Yes! Megamind! I am upset! We talked on the phone before I got on the plane this morning and I asked if you were okay and said you just had a late night; I had no idea you were hurting or sick or scared or anything! Did—" She breaks off and bites her lip. "Did you not want me?" she asks, sounding suddenly uncertain. "To know? Is it…is it a trust thing, or…"

"No," he says quickly, gripping her hand, "no! It isn't like, I just—it's, but—but you were coming home," he stammers. Nervousness rises in him like a tide, pushing back the exhaustion dragging at the corners of his mind. "I, yes, I wondered if maybe I wouldn't make it through this one, but…you were already on your way home, what difference would it have made to complain? Worrying isn't productive—"

"I don't care if it's productive! Megamind, you just said you thought you might be dying! And you didn't call me!" Her face pinches, the tears finally spilling over. "It's not on you to decide what I worry about. You don't lie to me, not like this, not about your health—"

"I didn't lie," he protests, stomach twisting uncomfortably. He reaches up to cup her cheek, sweep his thumb over her skin. "I really was up late."

"By omission," she says. Her voice is flat, but she turns her face towards his hand a little, presses herself against his palm. "You hid this. You intentionally hid how sick you were feeling. And the fact that this was a surprise—apparently you didn't even do any scans, or anything. You could have built something to do that, you could have designed one and had the brainbots build it for you if you weren't up to construction—fuck, you could have bought one, you could have stolen one! To find out what was wrong with you!"

"I didn't want to know," he blurts. "I—Roxanne—I'm sorry. I—but I, when my body does—things—I only want to ignore it! I want it to go away, I don't want to pay attention to it, I—finding things out about this, it doesn't exactly have good associations, for me. I didn't mean to make you angry but I—"

Roxanne's tone softens. "I'm not angry," she says, cutting him off and pulling his hand away from her face so she can press her lips to the heel of his palm, then squeezing his hand. "I'm not angry. I'm just. Hurt." She swallows, drops her head to his chest without really lying back down. Her short hair flops down across the collar of his shirt, and Megamind rests his long hand on the curve of her skull, his touch hesitant and fluttery. "And I know, I know you don't like talking about…anatomy. But when your health is on the line, sometimes you just have to bite that bullet."

She lifts her head again and kisses his lips, then, and some of the anxious tangle of badwrong in Megamind's chest eases at the press of her mouth on his. "Okay," he whispers.

"And I will help you do that," she says. "I want to help. And…and so I'm hurt. That you wanted to deal with this by yourself, instead of with me." She sighs, and lies back down fully, her arm across his skinny midriff, hugging him.

Hurt is almost worse than angry. Megamind touches her hair again, combs his fingers through it. "I'm…sorry," he says again, unsure what else to say. "I…I don't know what you could possibly have done. Usually when I'm sick, I just push through on my own."

"I know," Roxanne says. "I know you don't talk about health stuff. I know that. But sometimes health stuff happens, and I want to be here to take care of you when you're feeling sick. I want to know when your body does weird stuff so we can face it together. So I can give you heating pads, and…and tea, and a hug. And so I can make you build a goddamn MRI scanner so we can see what the hell is going on in there, if the bloating is some kind of tumor or if it's just an egg, and then I can hold you when you come out of it hating yourself because nothing in you looks human."

Megamind swallows. Now that she's here, describing that…well, it sounds awful, but it does still sound much nicer than trying to hide and ignore how terrible he was feeling. Megamind doesn't typically allow himself to show weakness, doesn't let himself stay down, but—but this is Roxanne. She's right, she's his partner. She isn't going to laugh at him or attack him for being under par. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay. Thank you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll…say something. Tell you. Next time."

Roxanne sighs and squeezes him. "Thank you," she says. "That's all I want."

Then she asks, "How are you feeling now?"

"Sore," he admits, after a moment. "The heating pads are helping." They feel amazing on his back and his abdomen. Another time, the warmth on his sex might have been arousing, but he's too sore for that. It just feels nice, the heat seeping into his cooler body and helping his muscles to relax.

Roxanne turns her head and presses a kiss to his chest. "I'm glad they're helping," she says. "That egg is huge. I have no idea how you fit it in your body, let alone got it out."

"Neither do I. I'm glad I was unconscious; I'm fairly certain my tailbone is broken. Bruised, at least."

Roxanne is quiet for a second, and then she snorts. "You broke your ass. Oh, honey, this week has not been good for you."

Megamind chuckles and cards his hand through her hair again. "Can," he says, feeling absurdly shy, "can I please hear you say you love me? Again?"

Roxanne hoists herself up and his heart squeezes, but this turns out to be so she can loom up and over him and press her forehead to his.

"I love you," she says, and he closes his eyes. "I love you and I missed you, and I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so glad I get to be here, with you. I love—" She cuts herself off, and Megamind hears her swallow, a sort of stuttered gulp. When she speaks again, her voice is thick with tears. "I love you. I really do. Megamind. I love how we fit together, and I love how you listen, and I love getting to watch you figure out how the universe works and how to protect your home. I love your big head and your skinny body and your sweet face and I love your big heart, and—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry we made it so difficult for you to remember how beautiful you are and how much I love you."

Megamind tips his face up to hers and kisses her. It's a mild testament to how much he trusts her that he barely even thinks of how this requires him to bare his throat to her—he trusts her enough to allow her near him while he sleeps, too. And her lips are soft against his, and her hand is soft against his skin where she's cupping his jaw to keep him there and steady him, and Megamind can lie here with her without fear.

"Hey, cut your species some slack," he murmurs, when he finally breaks the kiss. "It's not entirely your fault. You would have a hard time feeling beautiful, too, if you shat out an egg and broke your butt in the process."

Roxanne laughs, touches foreheads again. Megamind hums.

"Speaking of which, can we go back to me lying on you?" he asks. "I don't know if it will work with the heating pads, but…on my back is not great."

"Sure," she says, rolling away. "Of course you can. Here, if you put the pad on my hip—okay, and then we kind of drape the other one over your back—how's that?"

"Mmmm," Megamind hums again, snuggling into her side. "Much better. Thank you," he adds. "For, for taking care of me. The sheets, the shower. I'm sorry I got so upset with you."

"You always get prickly after the skin thing," Roxanne says, rubbing her fingers over his skull. "And like I said, you were sort of in shock. It wasn't surprising. And of course, I took care of you; I'll always take care of you if you need me."

Megamind doesn't respond right away, so Roxanne keeps massaging his head. He tends to enjoy that, it's usually relaxing, for him. But all of a sudden he makes a sort of soft choking sound, and—

Roxanne lifts her head and blinks down at him in the dark. Is he crying again? "You okay? Hon?"

Megamind hiccups a laugh through his tears, winces, sniffs wetly. "Sorry, I don't—I don't know what's wrong with me—I'm sorry, I should-should have just told you, this would have been so much better with you he-here—"

Hormones, Roxanne thinks. Mood swings. He basically did just give birth an hour or so ago; maybe this isn't really that surprising.

"Okay," she says, and goes back to petting him the way she was doing before. "It's okay."

And Megamind is a fairly emotional creature at the best of times. This certainly isn't doing him any favors.

He thought…he thought he might be dying. He thought maybe he wouldn't live through this, and he didn't call Roxanne to tell her or ask for help or even say goodbye. Roxanne has already said what she wanted to say to him about hiding his illness, but that little comment caught her by surprise and it's going to take her a little while to process all her feelings on that.

It's hard not to take it personally. Hard, to realize Megamind might still be just as uncertain of her as Minion is, deep down. And she knows it's not her fault, knows it's not due to any failing on her part—knows she can't think of this in terms of when-will-it-be-enough—but it's hard not to, when the man she loves is crying in her arms because he's so worn out and she can't do much for him even now that she's home.

"God, what if—what if it's fertilized," he gasps, "or what if it isn't but it's—viable anyway, parthenogenesis, I can't—I can't do this to a child; what happened to me, I can't—"

Oh boy. Roxanne was hoping this particular conversation would hold at least until tomorrow, but no dice, apparently.

"We would protect them," she says, keeping her voice low and firm. "Love, what happened to you is not going to happen to any child in your care. You won't let it. I won't let it."

"It is," he exclaims, his arm tight over her body. "It is, it is. Maybe not the—the research—thing, but—the bullying, the othering, the ostraceezation, the lack of legal rights, the wrong—I can't—"

"Megamind," Roxanne murmurs, stroking his head. "Megamind, shh. It's okay."

"—no no no, you don't, you don't understand—we had a swimming section in my junior high gym class and—a lot of frog jokes, and—and then biology, frogs, they—and then with the dissection jokes; god, I wanted to die; I—tried—and my voice and the, the parrot shit they put me through and everything, everything else; I can't, I can't do that to another child, I can't bring someone into that—"

Roxanne sucks in a breath and squeezes him, presses her hands to his back and the skin of his cranium in a probably fruitless attempt to reassure him. Oh, fuck, is that why he's so weird about the skin thing? It reminds him of—oh, Megamind, oh no—darling—

"And we wouldn't be allowed to keep it," he gasps. "I'm unfit, I don't—and I would have no legal recourse, they could take it away—keep it—I can't—"

"Megamind," she says again, as he clutches her, shaking. "Hey. Megamind, listen, listen to me." His head moves on her chest; he's looking up at her. Roxanne moves her hand to hold the side of his throat and the back of his neck under the curve of his skull: not moving, just holding, using the warmth of her hands and the weight of her fingers in the way that he told her feels like trust to him. "We don't know if the egg is viable. We have no idea," she says. "But you know Wayne's lawyers would help us, if it is viable and we want to keep it. You know they would. The Scotts wouldn't let any of that happen." Megamind swallows under her hand; his pulse is racing. "I know you're scared," Roxanne says. "And I know why you're scared. But I need you to remember, you and Minion aren't alone anymore. Okay?" She moves her hand back to the side of his head. "You have friends, now. Some of whom are very powerful. You're safe. Your child—our child—will be safe, if we have one. What happened to youis not going to happen to them. And we can homeschool, if we need to."

Megamind gulps again, shifts his body like he wants to move, but then she feels him flinch and subside again. "Ours," he echoes. "Our, our child? You—"

"It would be yours, obviously, biologically," Roxanne says. Carefully, she moves herself down on the bed a little, wondering if he's trying to nuzzle. "If you're capable of, of—um, parthenogenesis. But I…I mean, I would like that to mean it's mine, too. Emotionally."

Sure enough, Megamind stretches up and shoves his high forehead against the side of Roxanne's cheek as soon as he can reach. "Yes," he chokes out, and Roxanne does her best to bend her head and push against him, "yes, it's yours too, of course it is." He warbles sharply in his throat, then says, "Heart's family. Of course it is. Would be. If."

"You need to think about it," Roxanne says. Because yes, he does. He's probably not bothered to think about it before, if he never thought it would be a problem; why waste mental resources on problems that will never arise? Roxanne has met people who desperately wanted to be parents, but if Megamind didn't feel that drive and didn't think it was a possibility without significant genetic tinkering, why bother?

But now, it seems, it might be a possibility. Now, he might have a decision to make.

"Again," she says, holding her alien boyfriend as close as she can as he takes deep breaths and seems to calm somewhat, "I'm here for you. Okay? No matter what you decide. I'm here."

Megamind heaves a shivery sigh and curls down to rest his head on her shoulder again. "Do you even want kids?" he asks, still breathing deeply. He does sound somewhat less frantic. "You said, before, you're fine without them, but…"

"I will love whoever comes out of that egg," Roxanne declares, "if anything does. Megamind, most of my reservations about kids are…negotiable. Flexible. I don't want to put my body through the wringer just for the sake of bringing another human into the world, and I don't want to give up my career. I like my life the way it is. But I do like kids, and between me, and you, and Minion…I bet we'd all be great parents. Okay?"

He nods a little. "And…if I can't?" He swallows. "If I can't get my head around…if I decide I'm the last?"

"I'm okay with that, too." Roxanne gazes up into their dark bedroom. "The brainbots are enough to keep me young. You and Minion are family enough for me. Minion asked, earlier, if any of this was a dealbreaker," she adds. "It isn't. Whatever you decide, my love. I'm here."

Megamind shifts a little, easing the heating pads into a more favorable position over his aching muscles. They really are a big help; he still hurts, but he can feel himself coming back together, now, under the comforting warmth. Roxanne is helping, too; her touch on his skin is more soothing than Megamind will probably ever be able to express.

"Are you sure?" he hears himself ask, and then he grimaces. He knows she might not be, knows it probably isn't fair of him to ask for certainty right out of the gate like this. But he was too tired to catch himself before he spoke, so he swallows and adds clarification. "I don't mean to doubt you. But it hasn't been very long. You just got home. We just—we just found out about this. I don't…I don't know how you can…"

Roxanne pauses. Considers again, because Megamind asked her to.

But, really, what's to consider? If her boyfriend is pregnant—well, sort of—and wants a baby, Roxanne will rise to the occasion. She loves him, she loves Minion, she loves their lives together and she's sure she'll love an addition to the family. And if he doesn't want one, well, they'll figure that out. And if it turns out the egg is functionally empty, then so what? At that point it's just a matter of figuring out how to stop more useless eggs from happening. The feeling of horrified dismay when she saw the blood on his legs is not something she wants to experience again, and she doubts Megamind is eager to repeat any of this, either.

"I'm sure," she says, in the dark in their bed with her love in her arms. Gently, she rubs her thumb back and forth over the flannel of his pajamas on his shoulder. "I love you. Besides," she adds, pitching her voice into a more teasing tone, "didn't kidnapping me teach you anything, all those years?" Megamind makes a confused sound, and Roxanne lifts her head enough that she can press her lips to the top of his cranium. "Nothing you throw at me is ever going to scare me away," she murmurs against his skin, and Megamind freezes. She lets her head fall back. "So do your worst, Megamind," she says. She moves her hand from his head to his cheek again, brushing the backs of her fingers over his smooth jawline, rubbing her thumb down the thin stripe of facial hair on his chin. "Lay an egg in my bed, see if I care. Tell me you're pregnant. Or tell me you don't want kids and you never will." She reaches down and adjusts the heating pad on the small of his back, presses it there. "Do your worst, my sweet overlord. I'm going to be here just the same. We'll look after each other. Okay?"

There's a shocked pause, and then Megamind nods and squeezes her, hard. "Together?"

"Together. Always together. We'll figure it out." Roxanne shifts around a little, getting comfortable. Megamind slowly moves his legs into a better position, where his sharp knee isn't poking into the side of her calf. "Now," Roxanne says, "sleep? I'm tired, I want a nap."

"Nap sounds great," Megamind says, relief from her words still rinsing through him. He knows, distantly, he'll still worry, but…not now. For now he just feels…settled. Secure, for once, however briefly. And cozy. And very, very tired. "Nap sounds perfect. I love you, Roxanne," he adds. "More than I can say."

"I love you, too," she murmurs, yawning, grinning when she feels his jaw flex in an answering yawn a second later. "I love you too. Sleep."

"Sleep," he sighs, his breaths already lengthening, smoothing out as he relaxes his hold on consciousness and drops off. Roxanne isn't far behind. She's in her bed at home, with Megamind curled up cool and close beside her under the covers, the weight of his head on her chest a quiet reassurance.

So many questions, and so few real answers, but…

They'll figure it out. Together.

Roxanne yawns again, and snuggles into her pillow and her boyfriend, and sleeps.