Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Dr. Horrible or anything associated with The Blog. Anything you recognize here belongs to Joss Whedon :)

Laundry Day

Billy couldn't believe it. He, Dr. Horrible, forced to use a laundromat on the corner.

Laundry day was usually bad enough as it was, but ever since the washer and dryer in his apartment had become the latest victims of one of his many failed experiments, he had decided that a coin wash was a better alternative to an apartment full of soot covered lab coats.

He decided to invest in a new washer and dryer as soon as possible as he angrily shoved his laundry into the machine and inserted his change. It was much more convenient, and the time spent waiting for the spin cycle to run it's course could be spent fine tuning his latest invention.

Billy leaned back on the whirring machine and looked around. He liked people-watching. He learned a lot about people that way, and it helped pass the time.

An old lady in the corner was reading a paperback book, waiting for her first load to dry.

A businessman across the room from him was talking loudly on his cellphone.

A teenager was bopping his head in time to the unnecessarily loud, so-called music emanating from his headphones.

Billy sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. It had only been thirty seconds and already he had exhausted his supply of distractions. He was beginning to wish he had brought a book along.

Billy heard the bell on the door signal the entrance of yet another laundry person (as he had decided to call them) and turned towards the sound. Just some girl. He turned around to check the time left on his washer. Fifty-eight minutes. Great.

He heard a washer starting up and noticed to his chagrin that the new girl had taken the washer two down from his. There were plenty of available ones across the room, why didn't she use one of those? He raised his gaze momentarily to get a look at the girl. Her head was down, her focus on the pile of dirty clothes in front of her.

She was not as plain as he had first supposed, in fact, she was sort of… pretty. Her auburn hair hung in loose, careless waves, framing her face. She had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and her greenish-grey eyes were absolutely stunning.

It took him a moment to realize that those eyes were looking at him.

He jumped in embarrassment and looked down, realizing that he had been caught staring. He risked a quick glance upwards and saw that she was still looking at him. As soon as he caught her eye she smiled. His supposedly genius brain tried to come up with a suitable response to this and finally decided another smile would be appropriate, but unfortunately a pained grimace was the best he could manage. Luckily she had looked down before she had a chance to notice. He looked down too, and resolved not to look at the girl or think about her again for the remaing… fifty-five minutes of his time here.

However, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at her every few minutes. She was sitting cross-legged on her washer, engrossed in a paperback copy of Wuthering Heights. He wracked his brain for something to say, his vow not to think about her again forgotten. He went through a few potential conversations in his head, but they all sounded stupid. He considered mentioning the weather, but immediately scrapped the idea. The weather, really? Was that the best he could come up with?

Before he knew it, the telltale beep sounded, and his laundry was done. He pulled the sopping clothes out one at a time and put them into the basket to be transferred to the dryer. He set the timer for forty minutes, and looked back at the girl. She was still reading. He thought back to something Moist had said a few weeks ago.

"You really need to get out more Doc. Meet new people, maybe even a girl…" he trailed off.

"I'm an aspiring evil genius Moist, I don't have time for a girl," he had replied firmly, and quickly changed the subject.

But maybe if it was this girl…

He began thinking of conversation topics with a new fervor, but once again none seemed appropriate. What was there to talk about at a laundromat? He noticed that his dryer had stopped rumbling and stood up to collect his freshly laundered clothes into the basket. He realized that the old lady in the corner was leaving also.

"Oh well, there goes my shot." Billy thought as he carefully folded his lab coat. He'd most likely never see the girl again, but he supposed it didn't matter. Nothing would have come of it anyway. He hefted the basket up and headed towards the door, taking one last glance at the girl as he went.

His heart leaped. She was walking towards him.

No, that wasn't true, she was walking towards the old lady, who was half way out the door.

"Excuse me Mrs. Patrick, I think you dropped your sock," she said, holding out said garment. Billy decided that her voice matched her smile, sweet and friendly.

Mrs. Patrick took the sock from the girl and smiled. "Thank-you Penny, you're such a dear." She said. "I'll see you next Wednesday as usual I suppose? I'm nearly finished that book you lent me and I'd like to return it." She held up the book she had been reading.

"Yes, I'll be here. Do you like the book so far?" The girl – Penny – replied. The two began discussing whatever book it was they were talking about, but Billy didn't stay to listen.

He walked outside, shielding his eyes from the bright sun, and headed towards his apartment, unaware of the smile on his face.

So her name was Penny, he mused. It fit her somehow. And she went to the laundromat every Wednesday? Suddenly he decided that buying a new washer and dryer set wasn't as urgent as he had first thought.

AN: Okay, my first published fanfic! I started it in careers and finished it during gym class, all in one day. Reviews welcome of course!