Hope you enjoyed the random bit of fluff. Thought you needed a break from the action. Now back to your regularly scheduled angst/romance/supernatural fiction. If the time-line confuses you, please let me know and I'll include it on the next chapter. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I bring you, Laundry.

"I see you brought Samantha again today."

"I bring Samantha every time Mrs. Fredriks."

"Oh, of course. It's so good to see a responsible young man and his child taking care of chores. I remember my Henry would always find a way to-"

"Of course Mrs. Fredriks, but I'm really fond of Sammy. You'll see her here every week." Billy hated cutting off the old woman, but it had to be done. Last time he let her talk about her late husband Henry, he had sat through eight loads of laundry and three feedings before he found an excuse of "Sammy needs to get home" half way through the narrative. Yes, she was a nice old lady, but a little long winded. Mrs. Fredriks smiled and nodded happily, rocking the used car-seat that Billy had his daughter in.

They had found it on the side of the road with a FREE sign taped to it. It was perfect! They didn't have a car, using the bus to get everywhere. So it was a way to carry Sam around, buckled in nice and tight, handle meaning he could have one hand free to carry the hamper-basket. Wednesdays and Saturdays were no longer laundry days. Life had changed so much. It was now Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Billy had been able to convince the other three (Bait was now a permanent resident, the very large [stolen] rock on her finger being proof) that they did not need a washer and dryer. He had spent hours poring over price charts and water rates, soap measurements and bus fares, room width and pluming blue-prints. In the end, he talked their ears off for two hours explaining that it was cost effective for him to go down three times a week with their clothes and do laundry and simple shopping. They agreed just to get him to shut up.

With four adults, two queen-sized beds, and an infant in the house, there were a lot of clothes. The little plastic basket he had used ages ago (only [almost] two years ago, wow) was nowhere near big enough. So he had a cloth hamper-basket that had a strap for him to use when he carried his washings to and from in.

While the little old lady that was there every Wednesday was keeping Sammy busy, Billy allowed his mind to wander a bit. Almost two years, wow. Billy had asked Penny on a date, right here, in this Laundromat. Eleven and a half months later, they were married. Six months after Penny had told him that she was pregnant, they were husband and wife. Two months later, Samantha was born. Penny and Billy had been together for over a year. And now, now they were planning on their first anniversary. Almost two years. One year as husband and wife, but together almost two years. And soon after that Samantha would be a year old! Life had moved so quickly.

Of course, his count was different from Penny's. He counted from the day he had finally talked to her. She started from when she had introduced him to her boss, that was half a month later than Billy's count. Where he thought two months, she thought one and a half… not that it really mattered. They were counting now from their wedding, nothing before that. But two years, almost two years ago, Penny had come fully into Billy's life.

He had his own celebration right there in the coin-laundry. Fredriks moved away when her washer buzzed, Billy closed the lid of his own washer, pushing in the coin-slot, and pulled the carrier over to him, resting it on the lid, letting the soft movement of the machine keep Sam calm and quiet. Cooing happily to the little girl, the young-man-turned-father leaned his elbows on the washer before kicking his legs out, ankles crossed, back hunched. His daughter, his daughter, was giggling at the funny faces her dad was making at her. Sam was almost a year old. She was happy, curious, and could say "mam." Yeah, Billy had not been happy with that. He had spent almost every waking moment with Sam since she was born, talked to her, took her everywhere he went, read to her, even blogged about her (a new blog, Dr. Horrible's Blog was untouched since the fiasco of the homeless shelter). And what was his daughter's first word? "Mam." Not "Da" not "daddy" not "papa." No. It was "mam." Mom. Mommy, mother, Penny. Billy loved Penny, Billy loved Sammy. But really, why couldn't she have learned about him first?!

No matter, no use being bitter about it. She'd learn more words soon enough. He was able to point somewhere and have her look, she was alert and excited, she had taken four steps two days ago just after lunch! Yeah, Billy had never been so proud. He had filmed it on his computer and sent it off to everyone on his email list; all the henchmen, heroes, and villains he was still friends with from the White Flag. Jeckers was the first one to email him back with an excited response. Billy had to admit that it was awesome that his first hero friend was the one that was the first to share in his joy. Heh, Jeckers, yeah, he had to call on him some time and bring Sam to greet the retired hero.

Taking Samantha out of the carrier he lifted her up, shaking her around a bit making fish faces and blowing raspberries to make her laugh. He walked around the washer island with her, letting her take a few steps on her own, then holding her tiny fists tightly and led her around. A normal wash day out on the town.

"Found you!"

The voice was so odd, nothing that had been heard around here before. Loud, boisterous, self-assured. It was a hero's voice. Lovely. Billy, along with everyone else in the building, looked up from their business to the speaker. He was tall, lanky, with arms the size of pillars. Reminded Billy of Hammer, right down to the logo on his chest. Only, his shirt was blue, the circle was red, the logo was a nail, and the man was not Hammer. Nowhere near.

"Doctor Horrible, I am Lieutenant Nail, and I am here to avenge Captain Hammer!" Billy had to give him credit; he was short and to the point, and he also tried an attempt at originality.

"…" The whole place gave a collective "huh?" as they looked around. Dr. Horrible? No one had seen him in a year and a half, maybe longer. Not since he was announced a city hero after escaping from the clutches of jail at the hospital. Many thought he was dead.

"You!" Billy found the long, but thick, finger pointed at him. Blue and white gloves, with flowers. They were kitchen gloves. Sloppy, so sloppy, Billy's eyes twitched as he started to work on a speech to Jeckers about how the Guild's and the Book's standards were slipping. Hold up, no… this joker wasn't in either of them! Billy looked at the man, thinking of his name. Lieutenant Nail? That wasn't in the Book. The Hero's book, the foot-in-the-door for cast-away side-kicks. The kids that grew up and wanted to make their way into the Hero's Guild. First step was to get your name in the Hero's Book. It was like a phone book. Updated monthly. Little plastic cover, twelve crisp white pages, arranged by city name and power. If you needed a small time hero for security for your party, if you needed muscle to move your generous donation of a huge statue to the front lawn of your church, you looked up your area and what power you needed, gave them a call, tipped them now and again, life was perfect. But there were standards to get into the book; you had to have a letter from someone in the Guild, and you had to undergo a test.

Clearly, this man had not passed, as he had kitchen gloves. Yeah, no, not up to standards.

"Me?" Billy pointed at himself, righting his back just a bit, one hand still holding his daughter's fist.

"Yes! You! You look just like the man on the cover of Time two years ago. You must be Dr. Horrible!"

"Billy? Doctor Horrible? Young man, you are mistaken." Billy felt a surge of love for the old bat Fredriks just then. Standing up for him like that.

"No, no I don't think I am."

"I think you are. You're out of your mind. Dr. Horrible's dead, everyone knows that." Heh, now everyone in the Laundromat would know it anyway. Whatever qualms and thoughts they might have stirred up were quelled, he hoped. Really, he didn't want it out that he was Horrible. Because yeah, that might have been who he was but it wasn't who he is now. He dropped Horrible. Sure, he wanted to get back in his lab again, couldn't wait until Sammy went to school so he could have an hour or two tinkering with things (man how he missed playing in his laboratory) but no, he wasn't Doctor Horrible.

Too bad it didn't convince Nail. Because the man strode over, bearing down on the young father. Billy hunched over, grabbing Sam's hand again and trying to make himself small as he could though his eyes were as big as plates.

"You dare to say I'm a liar?"

"Um. No? I'm just saying I'm not-" Hold that thought, Billy was in pain. A fist lashed out and cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping sausage-fingers around his neck and pulling him off his feet. Sam screamed as her father's hands tightened around her own. He wasn't going to let go of her, what if she tripped and hit her head?! Or if Nail stepped on her?! Loosening his grip a bit he tried to steer his mind away from the fact that he was being chocked by a Neanderthal very much like he had two years ago. What goes around-

But this time there was more than just him on the line. There was Samantha. Kicking out he felt his foot connect with shin-bone. And then he could breathe! Apparently he wasn't as impenetrable as the man he was "avenging." Grabbing Sam and holding her close Billy ran across the room, trying to get to the door. The hood of his sweatshirt was taken hold of and yanked, toppling him backwards.

"You hide behind a child?! You are an evil fiend."

"She's my own daughter! I'm not-"

He was grabbed again, by the throat, and tossed across the room. Okay, really?! What kind of "hero" throws someone across a room when they are holding an infant?! This man was out of control. Now if only Billy could stand, reach for his shock-ray (never leave home without it, even after he stopped being Horrible he always made sure to keep his small hand-sized shock-ray on him for protection), maybe get a shot or two off and get out of there… which way was up?

"You brute! Stop it!" Mrs. Fredriks? Billy's eyes unfuzzed long enough to catch her and three other laundry-people smacking Lieutenant Nail with their laundry baskets. How he loved Wednesday people. They were running him out for Billy! Checking Sammy he found his young daughter pouting and glowering in his arms, none-too-happy about the treatment of the day. But she was okay, not a bump or scrape to her; Billy's body had taken the brunt of the attacks for her.

Now how to explain the finger-shaped bruises around his neck to Penny?!