Nuclear Saturday
They'd become family that day on the beach. Finding pirate ships and almost being killed numerous times had a way of doing that.
To normal people the reality that three high school upperclassmen were hanging out with kids in junior high seemed a little odd. For Stef, it was just how things were. She'd known these kids her entire life. The fact that Data showed up to carry out secret development tests in her back-yard (her parents were slightly more forgiving than Mrs Walsh concerning the resulting mishaps), or that Mouth regularly crashed on her couch to take advantage of the cable -- well, pretty soon none of it seemed out of the ordinary any more.
Brand once said that Willy would've been amused that he was the benefactor to such a group of kids. Mikey, confidently responded that Willy would've been proud -- he was an outsider, just like them. Of course, then Mouth cracked that he wasn't an outsider and went back to reading Rolling Stone.
But One-Eyed Willy was their benefactor. They all got to stay in Astoria, and enough money was even left over that they could all go anywhere they wanted for college. After graduation Brand and Andy ran far away, sick of the constant rain. Stef, contrary to the last, moved up the coast to Seattle.
She wasn't really sad to be leaving, but when Mouth stopped her just before she got in the car, shifting his feet and stammering, she started to choke up. He kissed her quickly and ran off. To any one else it might've looked like a brother being forced to kiss his sister good-bye. To Stef, things certainly weren't that clear.
Two years, three boyfriends, and what feels like a thousand concerts later, Stef finds herself in a corner of the Walsh's attic making out with Mouth. She's pressed up against the wall, cobwebs in her hair, and if she didn't know better, she'd say that the hilt of one of One Eyed Willy's swords is lodged between her back and the wall.
In some ways it feels like no time has passed, but she knows it has; two years ago Mouth was still a kid and she never would've dreamed that he was nicknamed Mouth for anything other than his obnoxious, ill-timed comments.
But that's how they got into this situation in the first place. Mouth, hiding behind some grotesque painting Mr Walsh had rescued, told her to make him sing like a woman, give him a nice, wet kiss.
Poor guy seemed kind of surprised when she ripped the painting away and did exactly that.
But it didn't stop there, because one kiss led to another, and another, and now his hands are under her shirt, warm and insistent. One is anchored at her waist, the other, fingers tracing the underside of her breast in time with his tongue.
Okay, so maybe it's not that sophisticated, and maybe he's only sixteen, but it's still making her gasp. Or maybe that's the gentle rocking of his hips into hers.
Damn.
She wraps her arms around his neck, trapping him in place, as she breaks the kiss in favor of exploring his neck. Stef doesn't want to be the only one gasping, and she's rewarded when she nips at the sensitive skin behind his ear.
"Fuck," he breathes, and Stef can't resist smiling. So, to hell with the age difference, she thinks.
And then the trap door opens and light spills into the room.
"See, I told you they weren't..."
Immediately, the hand under her shirt disappears. She just holds her breath.
It's Mikey, and whatever Mikey was going yell back dies on his lips as he sees them. "Shit," he mutters, and then something about "Holy Mackenzie" before taking off down the stairs again. A moment later the door flies back into place with a crash that hurts her ears. They both wince, and are left in then left in semi-darkness once again, Data's electro-static bulb thing the only source of light.
Mouth pulls back just enough to see her face, his one hand still at her waist. "Well."
"Yeah, well." She's equally speechless -- unusual for them both, but she wants to kiss him one last time before they leave. "C'mere," she says, smiling, and rolling her eyes too, and pulls him in.
Downstairs, Chunk is carrying on with one of his stories, and it must be one of the old ones because not even Andy is politely listening. Mikey shoots them a guarded look as they join the group, Stef choosing a seat on the sofa arm, Mouth immediately diving for the recently delivered pizza. They both ignore the look, though she notices that both Mouth and Mikey are coloring slightly.
"What were you guys doing up there?" Brand asks.
"Mouth got stuck," Steph answers quickly.
Mouth is right on her heels. "I did not! You pushed me!"
"Tripped on his elephantine feet and fell behind one of those displays," she explains to Andy. "It took forever to get him pried out."
Brand accepts the lame story and goes back to joking around with the boys. Andy, however, knows her better. Her best friend peers at her closely, then the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. It's the one that says, "We'll talk about this later."
Stef can hardly wait.
Surrounded by notebooks scribbled heavily with notes and pages upon pages of copied source material, Steph is so focused on completing her annotated biblio for medieval history that she doesn't even notice when he sits down across from her.
"Hey," he says, and she looks up. He leans back on the sofa, arms draped over the back, legs spread wide.
Stef rolls her eyes. It's an understatement to say she's a little shocked. "What are you doing here?" She starts envisioning Mouth hitching rides from Astoria to Seattle. "And how did you find me?"
"I know you, remember? Books, caffeine, weird guys with guitars and bathing problems..."
That's half the cafes in the city, but she doesn't say anything.
"Says quite a lot about both of us." It sounds harsh even to her ears, but she tries to soften it with a smirk. It's been two years; they're a little rusty at this. "Jealous?"
He smiles at her then, full and broad. That's the boy she knows, even though he's grown into something she doesn't recognize -- on the surface anyway.
"Never."
If he says anything about her being his girl, she'll kick him in the balls.
"You never answered me before. What are you doing here?"
"Came to school. Smart girls turn me on. And I like older women, but you know that much." He winks at her.
Fine, his charm is working on her. She's not impervious; after all, she can still clearly remember what it felt like to have his mouth on hers, fingers teasing her skin.
"C'mon, I'll show you around campus. It's that place with all the buildings and kids playing hacky sack."
"Cool. But the real question is, when do I get to see your apartment?"
As they're leaving, Mouth throws down a tip for the waitress. She notices the bright flash of silver as it lands on the table, spins around before settling.
Kennedy's -- no, Martin Sheen's -- face is on it.
She makes up her mind on the spot -- he won't have to wait long to see her apartment.
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.