What You Never Got
By Cybra

A/N: Inspired by "You'll Never Eat Food Pellets In This Town Again" and the DVD extra "Are You Pondering What I'm Pondering?". An AU set in the reality that Pinky and Brain really were just toon TV stars on a show. (If you've read any of my real toons fics in the Disney section, you know that I go by the rules that toons live basically forever unless they come in contact with dip which was introduced in that Disney/Warner Brothers co-production Who Framed Roger Rabbit?) And, quite frankly, Maurice LeMarche should've gotten an Emmy, too, darnit.

Disclaimer: Pinky and the Brain belongs to Warner Brothers and Steven Spielberg.

Since coming back home to their glamorous, cage-shaped mansion from filming the extra for their first set of DVDs, Pinky had been pondering Brain's rather frank statement while discussing the Emmys:

"I want one so bad!"

Pinky's Emmy sat on their mantelpiece, shining down on the living room from high above like some sort of metallic goddess. However, it sat just to the side as it always had. When they'd bought the place with their earnings from the show (how the other Animaniacs had turned green with envy when they'd gotten their own spin-off!), the taller mouse had insisted that they leave a spot open for when Brain received his so that they'd have a matching set.

Three seasons came and went (the stouter mouse had always told him never to mention that brief "embarrassment" with Elmyra) with everyone on the production receiving one of the gold statues…everyone except the other title star, that is. Everyone had danced around the subject, knowing it was a bit of a sore spot with the mousy genius though Larry—during his brief appearance—had made sure to prod Brain's ego at every turn. (Little surprise that Brain had exacted his revenge on camera by primarily inflicting bodily harm on him as opposed to Pinky.)

But during the featurette, there had been no getting around it. The fans would want to know about their success. That meant that Brain's ego would have to be sacrificed. Pinky had seen the hurt in his closest friend's eye as they'd discussed the award he'd never received.

So the lankier mouse had sat down in their living room, one leg crossed over the other. His foot tapped the air as he frowned deeply. There had to be something he could do.

He looked up at the lonely Emmy sitting atop their mantel, still waiting after all these years for its partner.

His tail flicked contemplatively back and forth as the gears in his head slowly ground forward. (In his defense, he left most of the hard thinking to Brain who—while he wasn't allowed to take over the actual world—built all sorts of neat gizmos, which were mostly sold under pseudonyms and slowly taking over the consumer world. It made a pretty good outlet for that megalomaniacal nature he'd been born with.) He continued to stare at the Emmy, the space between his eyes starting to hurt as the mental cogs continued to pick up speed.

Suddenly…"Egad! Poit! That's it!"

He leaped down from the couch, remembering too late that it was a human-sized couch (bought for the convenience of human visitors as much as his shorter counterpart had resented it). He landed with a thud and a laugh, climbing to his feet and running off in the direction of Brain's workshop.

Aforementioned lab mouse poked his head out of the room reserved for his tinkering, an eye shield over his face and a smock covering his body. He lifted the shield with a gloved hand and gave Pinky a bemused look as the taller mouse nearly slammed into him. "Pinky, what're you up to?"

"Oh. Um…nothing." The lankier mouse whistled, all innocence, and looked up at the ceiling, toeing the floor. "I thought I'd go for a little run. Y'know, get the old heart rate up! Narf!"

He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Brain lifting a brow at him. The jagged tail swished back and forth twice before its owner lowered the eye shield again. "Just be careful. I don't want to find that you broke something in your mad spree."

"Y'mean like when I broke my leg?" Pinky lifted his left leg, holding it in his paws.

"I meant when you broke the lamp" was the churlish response. The shorter mouse retreated back into his workshop and slammed the tiny door set into the larger main door.

Despite the rather spiteful statement from Brain, Pinky's tail wagged. When he'd broken the lamp was when he'd broken his leg.

He tore off towards his playroom and looked about. Instantly, he brightened. He didn't play with that doll anymore. Oh, and that box would make a lovely stand…

Considering how late he'd been up working on his latest invention, it was no surprise that Brain slept in the next morning. And he would've slept in for longer had it not been for a rather enthusiastic tackle.

"Mornin', Brain! Poit!" sang his roommate who currently squeezed the life out of him. "Well, it's almost afternoon now."

The shorter mouse twisted in the other's grip, gasping for breath. When he finally loosened the other's hold enough to get oxygen in his lungs, he turned his large cranium—ears flat against his skull—and opened his mouth to give his cohort a biting remark. (There were days when he regretted deciding to live together with the other mouse for real.)

He stopped before he could begin. His ears pricked forward as he asked curiously, "Why are you covered in gold paint?"

Patches of the stuff decorated the lanky mouse's white fur. It created a rather odd contrast. Not to mention a bizarre fur pattern. "That's what I wanted to show you! C'mon!"

Brain was released for only an instant before Pinky grabbed his wrist and proceeded to drag him behind him much like in their old cartoons. The shorter mouse scurried to keep up as the taller mouse raced ahead, singing some sort of nonsense song based on the syllable "la".

The run came to a sudden stop in the living room. So abrupt was it that Brain slammed into his taller counterpart, sending them both sprawling.

Shaking his head, the more intelligent member of the pair looked over at his roommate. "What's going on?"

"Look up there!" The lankier mouse pointed, jumping to his feet and hopping up and down.

Rising at a more sedate pace, Brain tilted his head back to gaze up where he knew Pinky's Emmy stood alone. (Funny. Pinky never seemed like the type to purposely rub salt in a festering wound.) To his surprise, not one statue but two stood there.

The new one was…well, he wouldn't call it "ugly" but it certainly wasn't pretty. He could easily tell that it was cobbled together from a box, one of Pinky's dolls, and a wire coat hangar that must've been bent around a ball in order to give it its vaguely spherical shape. The entire thing had been painted with the same gold paint that now decorated his roommate.

"Pinky…when did you do this?"

"Last night when you were working on your latest doohickey!" the other mouse said proudly. "Now we have matching Emmys!"

Some part of his mind sulked that, no, this didn't count because it wasn't a real Emmy. The rest of him quickly squashed that part, touched by the gesture.

"Thank you, my friend," he said honestly.

He gasped as Pinky wrapped him up in another tight embrace. "You're welcome, Brain!"

This time he didn't struggle. It was the least he could do to show his gratitude.