A Million Dollars
NOTES:
This is an AU. And since nobody is named after deadly sins in real life (though it's fairly obvious who's who), Greed is called Gareth for the purposes of this fic.
THIS IS ALSO SPOILERIFIC IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE ONE OF THE POOR SOULS WHO HAVE NOT SEEN THE LAST FEW EPISODES OF THE ANIME AND ARE TOTALLY UNAWARE OF ENVY'S ORIGINS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (in capitals) AND THEREFORE HAVE NOBODY BUT YOURSELF TO BLAME IF READING THIS RUINS ANYTHING FOR YOU, OR MORE LIKELY, JUST CONFUSES THE HELL OUT OF YOU. PRESS "BACK" RIGHT NOW IF NECESSARY.
Okay.
Similarly to the above note about Greed, for the purposes of this fic, Envy is called William. feather-duster has heard words to the effect of that being his original name.
There are absolutely NO self-inserts or OCs involved.
If you're still here, please read on!
-------
"If I had a million dollars...
I'd be rich."
- Barenaked Ladies
--- a million dollars ---
At half past four Gareth waves the girls off, not forgetting to tip a final wink. As they clatter away, he turns with the intention of going back upstairs to finish the hemming on no. 5, and something catches his eye. She's sashaying down the hall towards him in low-slung jeans, a green tank top, what might be stilettos. Gareth leans across, smoothly blocking her way.
"Well hello."
She stops and lifts an eyebrow at him; he looks her up and down.
"What?"
Long, long spindly limbs and a perfect scowl; exactly what he's looking for. Gareth fluffs the faux-fur collar of his vest.
"Now how would you like to do some modelling?"
---
"That corsage's all wrong."
Gareth looks around, half-startled. Twenty-four hours later and the girl is hovering behind his left shoulder, practicing her perfect sneer this time. He makes a quarter turn to face her, not rising from his crouch beside a polystyrene mannequin.
"I'm glad you could make it. Here, try this on."
The dress looks perfect on her, of course. In the windowed sunlight of the after-hours classroom, there's something Gareth wants about the soft gold gown and her low, almost matching tan. But then, Gareth wants everything.
" - everything. Y'see, it's the quickest - hmm - the quickest way to get rich," he explains, pinning the dress to better follow her waist.
"And you enjoy it," she says, staring down through his chic round sunglasses. He laughs, a breathy sort of bass.
"'Course I do. Wouldn't do it otherwise."
Snorting at him, she turns her head away.
---
The next day, she's late. Gareth is about to leave when she sidles in, discarding a stack of books in the corner. He grins and holds out a dress to her, wordlessly.
It's only twenty minutes after, while fiddling with the ribbon she has advised him to move, that he decides to comment.
"Late today, princess."
She shrugs, carefully.
"Held up in Biology class. And that's not my name."
Concealed from her perfect stare by a ream of blue crepe, he raises an eyebrow and smirks to himself.
"So what is, then?"
A pause, and he can feel her looking at him. She smells like menthol cigarettes, he thinks.
"William."
Gareth's other eyebrow rises to join the first, and his smirk pulls back so far it shows teeth.
"...Why d'you study Biology?"
"My mother likes science."
"You like it?"
"No."
"Fair enough."
---
"No dress today?"
"Nah," Gareth agrees, turning away from his drawing board to face the other, "We're waiting on fabric. Hang around if you like, though."
"I was going to." He chuckles, pulling the sunglasses off his face and leaning back.
"Not fun at home, eh?" William's perfect nose wrinkles at him disdainfully.
"Nosy bastard. What's all that AVARICE shit?" Gareth glances at his drawings.
" 's my brand name. Y'know, as in the deadly sin?"
A haughty sniff.
"Who the hell'd covet that?"
Gareth chuckles again.
"Shut up."
---
Another two Tuesdays and he backs off, staring, as William picks at the stitching in the full-length mirror.
"This thread's crap."
"It's fine," Gareth insists, slumping onto a metal folding chair.
"Show's next week, you've got time to re-do it."
A scowl.
"Look, whose dress is this?"
William turns on him, angry, but stops without speaking. His legs fold and he slides to the floor, wordlessly shaking his head. He's probably creasing the dress but Gareth doesn't complain. Because really, the corsage has been taken off and the ribbon moved and the straps altered and the hem brought a bit shorter, and really it looks very little like the drawing in his folder. Really, it's much better.
Quietly and without standing, Gareth drags his chair across the cluttered floor until he's sitting behind William, who seems to be staring at the mirror frame. He makes a soft, startled noise as Gareth's hands gather his hair, sweeping it back into a finger combed and somehow semi-elegant corn-blond knot.
"We'll have your hair up - like this, hmm? - for the show," the taller man murmurs.
"Yeah," he agrees vaguely. Exam season is nearly there, harsh on both of them.
"Why don't you just tell her to fuck off?"
" 's not that easy. You know."
"Okay."
---
The last meeting before the show, Gareth is sewing satin gloves for another outfit. William knows this and appears anyway, exhausted, in the doorway. Gareth beckons him in and he takes a seat beside the sewing machine, throwing his textbooks in a corner.
"Working late."
"Mmhm."
One of the girls has left the stereo on, and William listens for a little while, swinging his feet backwards and forwards above the floor. It changes to another song, and he listens for thirty seconds this time before eyeing Gareth.
"What would you do?"
The man looks up, frowning.
"What?"
William tilts his head at the stereo.
"If you had a million dollars."
Gareth looks at him disbelievingly, and pauses the machine.
"...I hate this song."
By now, William is grinning.
"Yeah, but what'd you do?"
Gareth, his brain still whirring with the clickclickclick of sewing, is lost for words. It occurs to him that his model's perfect eyes also nearly match the dress. William is laughing at him, tiredly.
"...I'd buy some clothes, a few knives and stuff. The rest can go in a savings account. For interest. You, you'd just waste it all on buying stupid shit."
Gareth stands up, shutting his machine off altogether, and stands over the other, expressionless. Menthol cigarettes and peppermint, he thinks.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Dumb crap like in that song. Weird animals and a Porsche. Or a gold-plated furry vest - "
"Shut up."
He shuts up, because Gareth has grabbed him - one arm around his hips, the other across his back - and is holding him off the floor. The man's midsection holds his thighs uncomfortably far apart. William rests his hand on a shoulder for balance, and lowers his mouth to the level of Gareth's forehead, feeling a wash of hot breath on his collarbone.
---
By the time it reaches the catwalk, the dress is perfect.
Gareth watches on a tiny screen backstage and smirks.
---
A week after that, term ends. His apprenticeship begins in a month, but for now the dress is carried out to his shiny, second-or-fifth-hand Porsche with care. It's only after slamming the boot that he realises William is leaning against the driver's door, lifting one eyebrow at him. Gareth takes his time, looking the other up and down and moving to pin him against the car in a leisurely fashion.
"Avarice?" William asks, removing the man's sunglasses without permission.
"Greed," he corrects, "And what about you?"
William smirks and primps his hair. It's bound up in ivy-coloured dreadlocks, held off his face with a headband. Gareth runs a hand over it.
"Envy. So, I told the old bitch to go blow it out her ass."
Glancing away for a moment, Gareth isn't surprised to observe a suitcase propped by the other's feet. He laughs.
"Good job, princess."
"That's not my - "
"Shut up."
"Passenger side?"
"Yeah, passenger side."
--- a million dollars ---
NOTES:
o.o That was strange. Based partly on the traumatising, fun experience of being a model in last year's fashion show at college. And potentially this year's as well.
"The old bitch" is Dante, in case you didn't guess.
Yeah, Envy makes a great transvestite. Can't argue with that. feather-duster read words on (probably) Wikipedia saying that his name before dying, becoming a homunculus etc., was William. That seems reasonable, ne?
Gareth is a good name for Greed. Not only does it start with the same letter, but it also goes with the fuzzy collared vest.
Yes, it is possible to gain cash prizes and apprenticeships to celebrity designers at college fashion shows. If you go to feather-duster's college or somesuch similar, that is.
(No, feather-duster has no idea who would want Greed as an apprentice. Dante, on the other hand, seems like the type of parent to try to push her son through medical school when he'd rather be doing something else.)
Sorry for any typos, the m key on feather-duster's keyboard isn't working too well right now.
The song is "A Million Dollars" by Barenaked Ladies. Go forth and listen!
These notes are really long, ne? ;;;
Review and we'll lend you the dress. And feather-duster will love you, of course!