@claraoculos / continued.
a quick glance to his watch told him that ruby was right. it was still plenty early, the night still young. aw, hell, he hadn’t even opened his third beer yet and he’d already lost track of time. steve offers a shrug, then an expression of mock surprise passes over his features at the accusation.
surely he was not the culprit responsible for all those empty leftover pizza boxes tossed out in the morning.“who the hell’s cleve, and why’s he eatin’ all our pizza when we go to sleep? what kind of lunatic would do something like that?” he asks, completely innocent to ruby’s all-knowing stoic gaze. he holds a hand up as if to argue when she offers to pay, but thinks better of it. that girl could put up a hell of a fight and damn if he wasn’t a sore loser. they both knew it.
steve nods at the ETA, then reaches into the cooler beneath the coffee table when ruby settles next to him. he passes over an unopened beer, tucked into a black koozie to stay cool, before returning his attention to his own. a couple of buttons are clicked on the remote and his face scrunches up into displeasure when netflix opens to an autoplay preview.
“well, we got a couple hours to kill before golden girls comes on. what about some good ol’ fashioned american violence?” a few more buttons are pushed before the selection finally lands on lethal weapon. “nothin’ works up an appetite like explosions and bloodshed.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer as she plopped herself next to Steve. “You had me at Lethal Weapon. There’s nothing quite like a young Mel Gibson. Add in explosions and blood? It might as well be Christmas.” She winked, clinking her can against Steve’s and mumbling a quick cheers! before taking another sip.
It was nights like these that Ruby loved the most. Sure, she liked going out and getting shitfaced with friends, ending up god knows where and missing her right shoe. But the emerald haired beauty liked sitting on the couch and watching old shows with Steve that much more. Some of the best nights of her life were spent on this couch.
Ruby was just starting to get engrossed in the magic that was 1987 Mel Gibson when a knock on the front door signaled that their dinner had arrived. “Pause that for me, would ya pops?” She teased, giving Steve a nudge before getting off of the couch and walking toward the front door. After paying the pizza guy (and tipping him somewhat handsomely, a habit Steve had taught her from a young age), Ruby headed back into the living room and placed the pizza on the coffee table.
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