Stonathan ❤️

119

NOT MINE!!

Through a mouthful of hashbrowns and eggs, Steve said, "You know who I think about all the time?"

They were sitting in IHOP, one of the shiny new chains that had come rolling in along with the mall, clinging to its back like a parasite. These chains were even more novel now because everyone knew they'd be leaving just as quickly as they came, the shells converted into laundromats and recycling centers.

"I think I could guess."

"Marty McFly."

Clearly, this hadn't been her guess―she tilted her head to the side, waiting.

"Marty McFly. That little cat that lived behind the dumpster and liked the number 3 combo from Hotdog on a Stick?" Steve took another stab at his hashbrowns. "I don't know if I ever told you I named him, actually."

"I also didn't know his Hotdog on a Stick order."

This was, more or less, how Steve and Robin found themselves crouching behind the bombed-out shell of Starcourt Mall on a Saturday afternoon, holding an half-open can of tuna.

"I'm pretty they're going to shoot first and ask questions later if they see us back here," Robin hisses. "My mother is already furious at me for being out so late doing your hair ―which she clearly thinks is a complete lie by the way, she thinks I'm going to get pregnant―and I suspect she won't be thrilled if I die over some dumpster cat who, I'm sorry to say, probably didn't-"

Steve interjects with an indignant, "Marty is not some dumpster cat."

"He lived in a dumpster , Steve." Nevertheless, Robin starts in on another round of half-hearted here, kitty-kitty' s as Steve attempts to waft the scent of the can in the general direction of the mall.

"One day we're going to have a serious talk about your love of scraggly things as a guy who gives himself highlights and uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray," Robin says. She had seen the hairspray last night and hadn't wasted a single opportunity to bring it up since. "There's something very twisted going on with you, psychologically."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell Jonathan that you called him scraggly when I see him tomorrow night."

For a moment, Robin only gapes at him. Then, like it's finally registered in her brain, she says, "When you what ?"

"Aren't you glad you're spending your Saturday afternoon with me now ?" he says, smirking.

"Tell. Me. Now," Robin screeches, punctuating each word with a thump to his arm.

Steve shrugs. "It's not like I'm going to ride up to his house on a white horse or anything. But I have some things I need to apologize for."

"More than what you've already told me?" Robin asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Way more."

―

It could be argued that there were things Steve needed to apologize to Jonathan for doing from well before their time of monster hunts and phone calls. There were certainly things during that time, things he did and didn't mean, that built and built until they hinged on a single day and a single sentence .

But before that there were things, Steve hoped, that they could regard as mutually good . As decent, at least.

As something.