Disclaimer: Don't own anyone noteworthy.

Mrs. Veltkamp sighed, adjusting her glasses.

"Shelby… Help me understand."

"You're the one with the degree, but I'll try my best, Miz V."

Shelby sat, arms and legs crossed in the all-too-familiar hot seat, the fabric feeling scratchy even through her jeans. Black hair pulled back haphazardly in something resembling a ponytail, her green eyes gazed at the pictures on the vice principals' wall.

No matter which picture she looked at, she was sure to find either one of her older brothers somewhere. Henry was in four of the ASB pictures, going from representative to treasurer to vice president to, in his senior year expectantly, president. He served as president of the Campus Cheer club, Serving Our Community With Kindness club, Knowledge Bowl club and the National Honor Society Go City chapter, and had been the captain of the football team for all four years. He was on the list of Go City High School valedictorians, graduating with a past perfect 4.1 GPA (what kid did extra credit when he knew he didn't need it…?)

Mel wasn't pictured as much, but managed to squeak onto the honor roll his senior year. He had led the lesser-known lacrosse team to be state champs his junior year, and had placed second in the nation in his National History Day project his freshman year. For his sophomore accomplishment, there was a newspaper clipping for him painting a mural over some graffiti. That hardly counted as community service in Shelby's mind.

There were no pictures of Shelby on the wall…well, besides one, but that wasn't "her".

"Your grades are solid C's."

"C's are average, aren't they?"

"Yes, but…the results from the IQ test you took for the guidance counselor are…phenomenal, well past "above average"." Shelby shrugged.

"If I'm that smart, then why don't I get what a high level of intelligence has to do with some grading system?"

"You pass all of your exams and quizzes with ease…but you never seem to turn in your homework."

Shelby smirked.

"So? I understand the stuff, don't I? I score pretty good on those standardized things so you people can get more funding, so why do you care whether I practice or not?"

Mrs. Veltkamp sighed again, pushing her glasses up. Shelby would think if they bothered her that much she should get them fitted.

"High school isn't about doing just enough to get by. You want to go to college, don't you?"

"Course I do, but I'm planning to go to Go City Community, so why should I work my butt off when they accept almost anyone?"

"Don't you want scholarships to help fund your education?"

"I'm a foster kid and part Hispanic. That alone will get me a near full-ride."

An education was an education, wasn't it? If a school made such a difference, Henry would've gone to Harvard instead of studying business at the nearest secondary. Mel might've been scouted by universities, but he still just went to a vocational school. Sure, Mrs. V could explain that they made their decisions to support her and the twins and to keep the family whole, but it didn't shove the fact that they were a higher standard than the typical student under the rug.

"You haven't joined a single club since you've been here," Mrs. Veltkamp continued. Shelby shook her head.

"I don't believe in 'em. Too clique-y."

"What do you do in your spare time?" Shelby shrugged.

"Hang out with friends, do the odd job for some spending cash, save the world, yanno, the usual."

She smirked as Mrs. Veltkamp glared at her. Apparently she thought she was being sarcastic. Really, the citizens of Go City were morons…or her black-and-green get-up really did alter her past recognition. She leaned back in her chair, sighing.

"What you're really trying to get at, I think, is why I'm not living up to expectations around here." Mrs. Veltkamp stared at her.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. First day of freshman year, you heard a new Gold kid was coming through those doors. After my all-American siblings, you couldn't help but set the bar high for me." She unfolded her hands, only to put them behind her head, "Hate to break it to you, but I plan on coasting through the two more years I've got here and not putting any more effort than I have to into doing so."

Mrs. Veltkamp's face started to go red. Like one of those cartoons where steam started to come out the guy's ears, she mused.

"If you continue down this path, Shelby Gold, you will regret this. You'll be a fast food cashier faster than you can say "Bueno Nacho", earning minimum wage the rest of your life."

Shelby grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Maybe."

III

"I will admit, I cannot fathom your logic," he murmured, his eyes locked on her.

Shego glanced around, sipping idly at her champagne. Her surroundings were semi-familiar; any villain worth their stolen salt had been let into the Bermuda Triangle. There were no Frugal Lucres or Aviariuses here; no, these baddies were the real deal. Big Daddy Brotherson, the guy with the rare wolf hounds… And yet here she was, invited by one of the biggest names in the industry, dining at his usual table and talking business.

Her boss would bust a vein if he knew she was sitting across from Professor Dementor right now.

"Isn't it an age-old question, Dementor? What's that girl doing with that guy?" He chuckled.

"Absolutely, but it's especially baffling in this case."

He held up his wine glass, examining it through the candle light.

"Your work is flawless, your skills unquestionable, your style unmatched…" He glanced at her, "But you work with a man who has the competency of a mentally challenged chimpanzee."

He sipped his wine and she watched him squishing it around, fully enjoying the flavor. She couldn't help but take it as some sort of innuendo and she crossed her legs. He swallowed, clearing his throat.

"You could do it, you know. Take over the world."

"Yeah."

"So why don't you? It's like watching a tiger pace around a cage too small for it to show its true power."

Shego smirked, her nail tapping against her glass softly.

"Well if I'm a cat and cats, even wild ones, are inherently lazy, then you just answered your own question. I like spa trips and tanning on the beach. I'm too lethargic to summon the energy needed to pull off a successful scheme on my own, so I ride on someone else's tail coats." His eyes gained a strange sparkle that made the prime rib in her stomach churn like expired hamburger.

"You, my dear, are only lazy when you choose to be. You do not lack ambition…" He swirled the wine gently, rhythmically, "You love a challenge, I know you do. I see it in the way your eyes light up when you fight Kim Possible. That stubborn redhead gives you a thrill because you cannot keep her down. She is the Jerry to your Tom, and you'd miss it if you ever actually beat her for good."

Shego frowned.

"You tell Drakken that and I'll kill you," she warned. He snickered.

"No, that will be our little secret," he set his glass down, "But we aren't here to discuss you going solo, or even your extraordinary talent."

Shego leaned back in her seat as he leaned forward, the sparkle menacing and passionate.

"I could pay you triple what he does. I could give you benefits you'd never even dream of. More paid vacation than time working. Competent coworkers, a chance to stretch your feline muscles, challenges that sate you instead of only get you by… Just sign an exclusive contract to me and my company."

Shego sighed, taking the napkin from her lap and dabbing her lips.

"I'll admit, your offer is tempting. But my answer's still the same from the first time you asked me; no."

Professor Dementor's grin faded, turning into a scowl.

"Why? He's an idiot! He'll never succeed and you know it!" She sighed, setting her napkin beside her plate before folding her hands.

"I don't know how to explain it to you, prof. You see, when you're a hot commodity, you've got a lot of choices, and the wrong one'll screw you over. Now, I'm a woman, which makes me even more fickle about which man I'll be stealing for. I don't know how much you know about my past, but it's still haunting me. I'd like to think I am a thief with honor, so I need to be a lackey for some other villain with honor," she rose to her feet, scooting her chair back in, "Dr. Drakken may be an idiot, but he's my idiot. Win or lose, I'll all in," she started to walk away from the red-faced criminal, "I trust you'll be a gentleman and pay the bill? Thanks, pumpkin."

"YOU'LL REGRET TURNING ME DOWN!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, never minding that they were in a restaurant. Shego rolled her eyes; always with the yelling… "YOU'LL BE OUT OF WORK LIVING OFF THE STREETS OR IN PRISON FOR LIFE!"

Shego gave a one-shoulder shrug, continuing towards the door.

"Maybe."

III

"I don't get it," he confessed, fumbling with his bow tie.

"Neither do I. Shouldn't Princess and the sidekick be accepting the award…or getting it?"

Shego sat in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed. It had been a long night, and she was grateful to take off her high heels and hide from the paparazzi. She'd never been comfortable with fame, though she had found negative attention was easier than praise for her.

Drakken continued to stand, frowning as petals bloomed around his face.

"I'm not talking about the Nobel Peace Prize, Shego," he ripped them off. Even after accepting his pansified state of being, he still seemed to hate being floral.

He rubbed his hands together, glancing down. Shego watched him, her eyes going over that familiar mad scientist get-up. Their uniforms had been through a lot together; freezing Antartic water, Floridian humidity, the oxygen-less expanse of space, cupcake frosting and pink shampoo… They were a regular Bonnie and Clyde, minus the being blasted into a million pieces by automatic machine guns.

He cleared his throat, but his voice came out a whine.

"…why me?" Shego stared.

"What do you mean?"

"You could've done anything, Shego, anything! You could've been a secret agent, a corporate president, a military leader, a dictator, a stay-at-home mother… But you chose to be my sidekick," he sighed, "I'm a big boy, I can face it; I'm a college drop-out whose never been good at much. No one knows my name-"

"They do now."

"That's not the point," he looked mournfully at her, "You worked with other villains; the Seniors, Zorpoks, Cousin Eddy… Still, you always came back to me and I never could figure it out. You're too smart to be too dumb to."

She snorted at his odd sentence, taking a second to figure out what he meant.

"You're right; I'm way too smart to stick around with you. There were always better jobs, better pay, bigger chances at success… But they were no you," he brightened like a Christmas tree.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not as much teasing material to work with," she leaned back on her elbows, "I've never overexerted myself, tried too hard, wore myself out… Never put energy into something I didn't believe in."

"Does, does that mean you believed in me?"

"I guess. Either that or I wanted a nice slacker job I didn't have to work too hard at." It was too late for recovery, though. Drakken, in his oddly optimistic way, had seen praise in her words and had taken them as such.

He flopped down onto the bed beside her, sitting up and his feet going pigeon-toed. A vine reached out from him, setting on her lap like a hand. A neon green flower bloomed on it, and then a black one.

"I'm afraid you'll regret choosing to save the world with me. You'll never work in this town again, labeled a goodie and left out in the rain. You'll be blacklisted from every evil employer and the Black Market will turn you away…"

One ungloved hand reached for the vane on her lap, holding it. It twisted around her wrist, giving a light squeeze of affection.

"Maybe."

Le End

I hadn't done a one-shot in awhile, so I thought I'd put this puppy up. I've seen this question a lot on the internet, why Shego's with Drakken when she could be going it alone and succeed, and this lil thing popped into my mind. Shego does seem lazy unless it's something she genuinely wants… But yeah, hope you enjoyed.