#ginormousroach

At Susan’s homecoming reunion, Derek decided he hated the monsters on sight—

but he hated the bug man most of all.

It was the way the creature called Susan “Dear.” It was that insufferable, British formalness, the accent, and the way he spun fancy words around like silk. Not to mention a mad genuis!

It made a small dent in the mans ego.

Determined to reclaim his territory Susan , Derek spent the night trying to outshine the doctor.

He bragged about his career, staged accidental displays of talent, and tried to mix a cocktail that ended up all over his shirt. Every attempt at one-upping the doctor only made Derek look like a child!

Finally, he snapped.

“You're in love with her!" he accused, pointing a finger at Dr. Cockroach.

The party fell into an awkward silence. Before the doctor could respond, Susan’s giant hand descended. She plucked Derek off the floor, delivered a devastating lecture on his behavior and set him out on the curb.

Dr. Cockroach— the mad genius, mutant bug with a brain of a man who could create dangerous explosives out of mere junk in an hour—but, even he has his own mental cockblocks.

Struggling to diagnose his own condition:

is it romance, or is it research when it comes to Susan?

Half the time, he’s a man of science, dying to test her physical limits and chart her indestructible biology. The perfect monster machine.

But then, the man of sentiment takes over.

He finds himself wondering if her skin is as soft as it looks, tracing the mountain-like curves of her silhouette with his eyes. When she smiles, he’s hit with a dual sensation—

a romantic flutter shoots up his antennae and a desperate urge to measure her bite force.

He is perpetually caught in the crossfire between the

genius in his head and the rapid beating in his chest.

He loves the way her shriek softens into uncontrollable laughter. voice bouncing off the walls like an alarm. While others might find the noise piercing, he only grins, darting to a new spot to resume the attack—

running over her curves and digging his hands into her warm soft skin— until she’s gasping, breathless and flushed with a smile on her face.

…yeah, he’s a bit of a perv.

Susan kept catching herself stealing glances at Dr. Cockroach’s lips.

It was a bizarre fixation, she knew, but she couldn’t help wondering: were they soft, or were they hard?

Given his biology, he was sturdy everywhere else thanks to his resilient exoskeleton. It felt ridiculous to dwell on, yet her eyes kept drifting back to him. Of course, "drifting" was a generous term; when you’re the size of a skyscraper, a quick look is about as subtle as a searchlight. Every other monster—even General Monger—had noticed her persistent staring, yet Susan remained blissfully oblivious to her own lack of stealth.

The answer finally came during an earth-saving mission. In the heat of the chaos, Susan reached out to catch the Doctor, only for him to be sent hurtling across the street, colliding directly with her face. Panic flared as she carefully untangled him from her features, checking frantically to make sure he was unharmed.

He was perfectly fine.

It wasn't until later, once they had retreated to their respective quarters, that the gravity of the collision truly hit her. Susan sat on the edge of her oversized bed, grazing her bottom lip with her fingertips. She closed her eyes, recalling the exact sensation of him crashing against her.

“Soft…” she whispered to herself. A giddy smile broke across her face as she flopped back into her blankets, kicking her legs and squealing into the pillows.

Susan stared as Dr. Cockroach worked.

He was always so careful when it came to creating. Sure— some of them blew up half way through but he was always so thorough with everything. Always going over and double checking every tiny nook and cranny.

Then she suddenly blurted how she’d easily let Doc examine or even dissect her if it ever came down to it.

After all, he was the only soul in Area 51 she actually trusted to look into her that deeply. The other doctors at the facility? She still wouldn't let them near her without her body shaking from fear of what they might do. But Doc was different. That maniacal ‘evil scientist’ laugh of his had become somewhat of a comfort. She hardly blinked at it anymore, just ticking it off in her head as another item on the list of 'classic Doc things.'

Doc Cockroach, however, was completely thrown by the sudden offer! He turned in his chair, ready to protest that he wouldn't dream of being so clinical—so cruel—especially not towards her.

But then, a thought flickered.

His mind split instantly. One side screamed in protest, refusing to even consider violating Susan’s trust in such a gruesome manner! But the other side, that insatiable, scientific curiosity, began to kick in.

What would it be like to study a specimen of such grand proportions? Everything about her was a marvel of biological scale.

His gaze drifted down her frame, his mind already slipping into a clinical trance. When his eyes rested on her chest, he didn't just see his new found friend;

he saw architecture of skin and bones.

Her ribs would be gargantuan!— curved like the arches of a cathedral. If he were to step inside, they would cradle him like a living mausoleum. His eyes trailed lower and, oh, her intestines would be a world of their own. Vast, looping tunnels like a fleshy labyrinth. Why, a single loop of her digestive tract would be wide enough to fit his entire head! Then there was her heart. Goodness. He could only imagine the sheer power of it..

He imagined himself reaching out, his hands actually cupping the organ, feeling the raw, warm, rhythmic thrum of her life force vibrating through his very bones.

He caught his bottom lips between his teeth as he gazed up at her. To anyone else, she was a titan, a monster,—but to him, she looked like an angelic giant. His antennae began to quiver as she threw him one of those lovely, shy smiles.

Dr. Cockroach coughed into his hand, regaining composure.

“If that were ever the case my dear Susan, I assure you,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a coquettish lilt, “I would be most... attentive.”

Oh.

She felt a sudden, sharp prickle at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t entirely sure why his words made the blood rush to her face, but she blinked quickly, letting out a short, breathy laugh to break the spell.