Envy’s Not the Word
Title: Envy’s Not the Word
Author: ubiquirk
Rating: G
Word Count: 465
Genre: drama
Characters: Moist, Dr. Horrible
AN: Set after the musical. Written for still_grrr 's prompt 'envy' and posted there.
Summary: He’s, you know, found his level.
Award winner - details here.
As a new member of the Evil Henchmen Union, Moist gets small smiles and literal pats on the back from his friends. He’s, you know, found his level.
~
As the newest member of the Evil League of Evil, Doc gets a party, a crowded party, with people actually wanting to be there and stuff.
Moist drinks a lot and talks to friends for hours and doesn’t notice much else.
~
By the fifth party, he notices.
~
Moist watches Doc slide between Bait and Switch like he doesn’t see them, the two women edging apart and coming together again to share a look of discomfort, disquiet, dis-, well, Moist’s not sure what, but dis-something.
Still, he calls out. “Doc!”
The look - a squint of eyes and tensing of lips already drawn in a thin line - makes Moist choke back the nickname to hastily cover with, “-tor Horrible.”
“Moist.” A tilt of head.
Moist plows on. “So I didn’t see you Wednesday for game night. In fact, uh, it’s been a while since you’ve come to one, and some of the guys were wondering …”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Horrible places a black-gloved hand dramatically across his heart, “I just thought trying to take over - oh, I don’t know - the real world was more important than playing Risk for the twenty bazillionth time.” Sarcasm drips at a level previously reserved for Johnny Snow and Captain Hammer and the dumbest-of-the-dumb emailers.
Moist raises his beer and takes a gulping drink. It tastes a little flat and warm, but it covers that he has no idea what to say. A couple of months ago, he would have told Doc, “We got a new Lord of the Rings one that’s awesome,” and spent half the party describing it in detail. Now …
Dr. Horrible turns away and waves across the room to someone Moist doesn’t know. “I’ll see you on Tuesday at three for the Selano heist.”
“Sure.”
The red-covered figure glides through the crowd, chatting briefly, shaking hands, laughing a used-car salesman laugh - all teeth and no heart. Never still. Circling.
Pink Pummeler emerges from the kitchen to hand Moist a new beer, then gestures with his own toward Dr. Horrible. “So’s the big guy gaming on Wednesday?”
“He’s … he’s got something else.”
“Right.” Pummeler nods, taking a drink.
Dr. Horrible starts around again, widening his loop, stopping to sign newspapers he headlines when he hits the groupie corner. Squeals emerge.
“Dude,” Pummeler says, “don’t you, like, wish you were him or something?”
Moist glances at Dr. Horrible and sees him smirk a grin that does nothing to soften the edged, calculating look in his eyes. Doc’s smile always looked genuine if a little awkward.
“Nah, man.” Moist turns back to Pink Pummeler. “Just … nah.”
Author: ubiquirk
Rating: G
Word Count: 465
Genre: drama
Characters: Moist, Dr. Horrible
AN: Set after the musical. Written for still_grrr 's prompt 'envy' and posted there.
Summary: He’s, you know, found his level.
Award winner - details here.
As a new member of the Evil Henchmen Union, Moist gets small smiles and literal pats on the back from his friends. He’s, you know, found his level.
~
As the newest member of the Evil League of Evil, Doc gets a party, a crowded party, with people actually wanting to be there and stuff.
Moist drinks a lot and talks to friends for hours and doesn’t notice much else.
~
By the fifth party, he notices.
~
Moist watches Doc slide between Bait and Switch like he doesn’t see them, the two women edging apart and coming together again to share a look of discomfort, disquiet, dis-, well, Moist’s not sure what, but dis-something.
Still, he calls out. “Doc!”
The look - a squint of eyes and tensing of lips already drawn in a thin line - makes Moist choke back the nickname to hastily cover with, “-tor Horrible.”
“Moist.” A tilt of head.
Moist plows on. “So I didn’t see you Wednesday for game night. In fact, uh, it’s been a while since you’ve come to one, and some of the guys were wondering …”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Horrible places a black-gloved hand dramatically across his heart, “I just thought trying to take over - oh, I don’t know - the real world was more important than playing Risk for the twenty bazillionth time.” Sarcasm drips at a level previously reserved for Johnny Snow and Captain Hammer and the dumbest-of-the-dumb emailers.
Moist raises his beer and takes a gulping drink. It tastes a little flat and warm, but it covers that he has no idea what to say. A couple of months ago, he would have told Doc, “We got a new Lord of the Rings one that’s awesome,” and spent half the party describing it in detail. Now …
Dr. Horrible turns away and waves across the room to someone Moist doesn’t know. “I’ll see you on Tuesday at three for the Selano heist.”
“Sure.”
The red-covered figure glides through the crowd, chatting briefly, shaking hands, laughing a used-car salesman laugh - all teeth and no heart. Never still. Circling.
Pink Pummeler emerges from the kitchen to hand Moist a new beer, then gestures with his own toward Dr. Horrible. “So’s the big guy gaming on Wednesday?”
“He’s … he’s got something else.”
“Right.” Pummeler nods, taking a drink.
Dr. Horrible starts around again, widening his loop, stopping to sign newspapers he headlines when he hits the groupie corner. Squeals emerge.
“Dude,” Pummeler says, “don’t you, like, wish you were him or something?”
Moist glances at Dr. Horrible and sees him smirk a grin that does nothing to soften the edged, calculating look in his eyes. Doc’s smile always looked genuine if a little awkward.
“Nah, man.” Moist turns back to Pink Pummeler. “Just … nah.”