Stonathan ❤️

68

NOT MINE!!

all credits go to fearofsilence on ao3

Jonathan embodies cool. That's Steve's first thought. He's got that thrift store swagger that makes a two-dollar, mustard yellow sweatshirt look effortlessly chic. He somehow makes denim-on-denim revolutionary. Scuffed sneakers with fraying canvas are suddenly so fashion-forward.

A camera hangs from his neck by a thick, black strap. Steve follows it up to his face: dark, almond-shaped eyes, pink lips downturned but curling at the corners like a Cheshire cat. He looks utterly bored and Steve eats it up.

"Enchanté," Steve says when Nancy introduces them. He stops short of kissing the back of his hand, tempted as he is. Jonathan's face twists up in such a way that tells Steve he is not impressed by his charms.

"Steve, we've met," he says flatly. "We go to school together."

Oh.

"I knew that," he insists.

He didn't know that.

Jonathan's only there to take pictures of their soundcheck. God knows why. Not much to see, just the four of them – Steve, Billy, Tommy, and Chuck – doing shitty covers of Styx songs in their sweatpants.

Steve can't keep his eyes off of him. He watches him move around the room from behind his drumset, even missing a few cues and hitting the bass on the wrong beats.

When he fucks up "Come Sail Away" for the third time, Billy turns around to glare at him.

"What's your malfunction, Steve?"

He drags his gaze away from the boy with the camera, who's got his back turned to him, changing out film rolls. The back of his denim jacket is adorned with this amazing, photo-realistic maroon octopus. Steve makes a mental note to ask him where he got it before directing his attention to his lead singer.

"What? Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry."

Billy sighs dramatically. "Take five. Get your shit together, Harrington."

The rest of the guys groan. Steve, on the other hand, is glad for the chance to talk to Jonathan. He's sitting with Nancy at the bar now. Neither of them notices him approaching, so he takes his time studying the intricacies of the artwork on Jonathan's back.

"Where'd you get your jacket?" He asks, making Jonathan jump.

Smooth, Harrington.

Jonathan glances down at the faded denim. "Uh, that consignment shop downtown?"

"Trash and Treasures?" Steve takes a seat beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the little smirk on Nancy's face but pays her no mind. "I know that place. I've never seen anything cool as this there."

He reaches out to trace the tentacle cresting Jonathan's shoulder. He's sure he doesn't imagine the slight responding tremor.

"My, uh..." Jonathan swallows. "My brother drew that."

"Oh, cool. He's very talented," Steve compliments, slowly pulling his hand away. Behind Jonathan, Nancy gets up to leave. "Is he an art student or something?"

Jonathan snorts around a sip of Coke. "No, he's thirteen."

Steve's eyes bug out of his skull. "Damn," he says. "I was still drawing stick figures at thirteen. In fact, I think stick figures are still about all I can draw."

Jonathan nods, lips pursed. "Same here. He's a bit of a prodigy."

"Harrington!"

They both turn to find Billy staring expectantly. Steve groans – just when he was getting somewhere.