FIC: Scary Monsters (2/?) Dr Horrible
Part 2
Dead things should stay dead, Billy thought, and he should know. Still, Dead Bowie held a kind of morbid fascination for him. The feeling seemed to be mutual and, try as he might, Billy just couldn't seem to shake the (what should he call him? Zombie?) off.
Billy had earned himself quite the reputation as the strong, silent type at the ELE, mostly due to the fact that half of the time he was just too dumfounded to speak. To think how he'd admired these people! How he'd struggled for years to join their ranks! To think how he'd been so sure that they had all the answers. Now, watching them… being in close proximity… he realised that the crème-de-la-crème of the evil world were as lost as confused as everyone else...
If a little more obsessed by chaos and mayhem.
Each meeting would go the same way. Jeff (Billy smirked that he could even think of Fake Thomas Jefferson as "Jeff") would dominate proceedings, being such a nerd for detail. Occasionally the founding father would be cut down by a judicious neigh or snort from The Boss. Leika would roll her eyes a lot and shoot angry glances at every male League member (and even Bowie would blanch at that). Tie-die would laugh her low, dirty laugh which she used to great effect but she also had a sharp mind which Billy had come to admire. The Prof would often drone on and on until Billy noticed that he wasn't the only one around the table who was stifling a yawn.
None of them had any vision. None of them understood what was so desperately needed: To show the world how far it had sunk into degradation and corruption. Each meeting would end with disappointment and inevitable frustration. Any interesting ideas would wither and die under Bowie's trade-mark sarcasm. There were so many strong personalities in the League that they seemed to disagree about absolutely everything. The only purpose of the E.L.E., as far as Billy could see, was to prevent all-out war between its members.
It was during one particularly frustrating meeting when Billy was watching Tie-Die and Leika spar with each other, that Bowie leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"You watch 'em. That's always you. Watchin'. Are those goggles infra-red or something?"
Billy turned slowly, tilting his head to regard Bowie thoughtfully. Bowie… what was he actually doing in the League? Billy didn't think he had any particular contribution to make, except for the interjection of the occasional acerbic put-down. And, as usually, he was leaning in way too close to Billy. Did the guy have no concept of the idea of personal space?
"How exactly were you murdered?" Billy said, bristling at the intrusion. "You said 'brutally'?" He let a smirk spread slowly, his lips curving.
"Knife…" Bowie said, flashing him a grin that told Billy that the story was just as likely to be a lie as it was the truth. "Right through the chest."
Billy's frown was hidden by the goggles. Bowie seemed to be deliberately taunting him. "Painful?" He asked.
Bowie grinned. "Excruciating…"
"I can imagine…"
Bowie tilted his head. "Have a drink with me somewhere, after this?" His eyes seemed huge, all of a sudden. They seemed to dominate the room. Billy shook his head, trying to clear it.
"I- I-," he gulped. He couldn't seem to get enough air.
"Wait for me, after the meeting?"
Billy's throat was dry. "I don't- I-"
Bowie laughed. "You don't do boys?" He grinned and whispered in Billy's ear. "Don't be silly, Billy… We're all open minded here in the League."
The words echoed like wind whistling through an underground cave. Somewhere inside him, he felt angry - both at Bowie using his first name and also at his presumption. But another part, the part that was firmly on top of all his other emotions, was caught up in long, slow, very warm flush that started at the top of his head and flowed all the way through to his toes.
Billy spent the rest of the meeting in a daze.
*--*--*
Bowie's fingers pulled gently at his goggles, sliding them up over his forehead. His fingers were cold, but ever point of skin that they touched burned like it had been brushed with acid.
"Wow…" Bowie breathed, his nose so close that he made Billy go a little cross-eyed. "Look at those baby-blues…" He grinned. "You stay still, sweetie. I want to have a bit of a poke around…"
Billy couldn't seem to move. His limbs were locked in place and he was imprisoned within his body like he'd been transformed into a mannequin. Bowie slid a thumb under the corner of material where Billy's coat was fastened against his shoulder blade, popping the buttons until the flap fell open. The zombie made short work of the rest of the coat, pulling the material gently away from his shoulders with an appreciative whistle. "That's it, baby," He purred in Billy's ear. "Now, doesn't that feel groovy?"
And the crazy thing was, it did feel… like something. Billy parted his lips with a gasp as Bowie leaned in, brushing his mouth across his jaw-line, leaving a smear of sticky lipstick in its wake. This close, Billy could see how the makeup sparkled on Bowie's skin, the colours so bright and vivid, like paint rather than cosmetics.
He couldn't move. Billy absolutely couldn't move. His heart was hammering in his chest and his knees were turning to jelly but he couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't even seem to think properly. Dimly, he was aware that this must be Bowie's power - some kind of powerful hypnosis. Were the other members of the League aware of that? And if they were, why hadn't they warned him!
Bowie's lips were straying dangerously close to his own until he felt Bowie slip his tongue flicking across his teeth, tasting him. It was all he could do to let out a low groan which turned into a whine as he felt Bowie's fingers pulled at his t-shirt and slide beneath, playing over his skin. They burned and froze him, sending a kind of agonising pleasure through his spine until suddenly, mysteriously, everything stopped.
Dimly, Billy heard a snort and a low whinny.
"Lovely…" Bowie breathed.
The world tilted back into focus, sound flooding back suddenly, causing him to stagger. Bad Horse loomed up behind them, pawing at the ground, menacingly.
Unabashed, Bowie gave their leader a guilty, cheeky smile and stepped away from Billy, who hurriedly scoped his coat and goggles from the floor. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Looking up at Bowie, he scowled. "Don't try that again," he muttered, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
Bowie clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. "Oh, I will, darling. You can count on that."
*--*--*
This way for part 3
.