Disclaimer: I do not own the Goonies.
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Stef Steinbrenner hitched her shoulder bag higher onto her shoulder as she hurried across the crowded intersection, headed for her favorite restaurant. Thanks to the traffic increase, her thirty minute break had been narrowed by ten. Since it would take nearly that long to return to the office building where she worked as a secretary, she had only ten minutes to select a sandwich and return in time for the afternoon meetings.
She grasped for the door handle, shoving the strap of her troublesome bag higher on her shoulder once again, only to have the door snatched from her grasp and a solid body slam into her. A distressed sound escaped her as her bag tumbled from her grasp and hit the curb. She would have suffered the same fate, landing painfully and unceremoniously on the ground, if strong arms hadn't reached out and grabbed her, saving her from such an undignified fate.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, jerk!" Her rescuer snarled at the man that had flattened her. The man responded with a suggestion that, while anatomically impossible, was rude and demeaning nonetheless. "Same to you, jackass!" called her rescuer (who had yet to release her) at the retreating back of the other man. With a disgruntled huff, the man gently set her back on her feet and turned to search for her bag as she attempted to smooth the clothing that had been rumpled during her fall.
"Are you-" The man started as he turned back to her, holding out her bag, only to cut off as he got a good look at the woman he had saved. "Stef?" His choked exclamation of disbelief brought her gaze up to his, only to freeze in shock.
"Mouth?" The nickname spilled over her lips before she could prevent it. It had been close to fifteen years since she had last seen the Goon Docks, but it seemed like only yesterday that she had exchanged insults with the obnoxious trickster, fondly referred to as "Mouth" for his incessant urge to speak out of turn.
Her rescuer smiled, the same mischievous grin she remembered so well from her childhood. "God, I haven't heard that name in years!" With an ecstatic whoop of joy, he scooped her off her feet and spun her in a circle. Though she knew she should be scandalized at his lack of discretion, she found herself laughing at his antics. No matter how angry with each other they became, he had always managed to make her laugh- that is, when she wasn't insulting him.
He set her back on her feet, keeping her hands enclosed in his large, warm ones. "How have you been, Stef? Everyone was disappointed when you didn't turn up for the reunion last year. I can't believe you've been living in New York this whole time!"
She laughed at his rapid-fire commentary. No matter how old Clark Devereaux got, he was still the same old "mouth"-y kid he had always been. "I've been wonderful. I couldn't make the reunion because my mother got sick, and I've worked here for almost five years."
He chuckled, a warm, deep laugh that struck a chord in her that she'd thought long forgotten. "Come on… Join me for lunch and I'll catch you up on all the news." She opened her mouth to refuse the invitation- after all, she only had five minutes to eat- but the hopeful look in his eyes overrode her concerns. She could be late this once. After five years of impeccable behavior, she deserved a few minutes to herself.
"I'd love to." She found herself saying, consigning that small part of her that still insisted upon propriety to the devil. He grinned infectiously, flicking a bit of his tousled brown hair out of his eyes. With a flourish, he opened the door she had been attempting to enter when she was knocked over, and waved her in ahead of himself. She smiled, a soft, secret smile to herself and eyed him as he looked around the crowded room for a table. Apparently, some things had changed.
His was older for one thing. No longer the annoying brat she had grown up with, he had matured into an attractive, competent man. His hair was another thing she couldn't help but be amused by. As a boy, he had been almost obsessive about his hair, carrying a comb with him to ensure that every strand was meticulously groomed to perfection. She inwardly shook her head. Now, his hair lay in stylish disarray, looking as though he had run his fingers through it several times over the course of the day. The comb was nowhere in sight. Oddly, the rumbled look only made him more appealing.
She shook the thoughts from her head, frowning at herself. At that moment, Clark happened to look back and catch the expression crossing her face. "I didn't know I was such disappointing company." He remarked softly, hoping to make her smile. She didn't disappoint him.
"I'm sorry. I was just thinking how much everything has changed."
As they wound their way through the masses of people, he talked to her over his shoulder. "You should see some of the Goonies, now… Brand and Andy got married, of course. Those two were in love even back when we were kids. The hunt for Willie's treasure just cemented it for them. They've got two little tykes now, a boy and a girl; named one Michael and the other Jessica. And Lawrence, remember, "Chunk?" He's not so "chunky" anymore. He lost weight as he got older. He's got a girlfriend now, and they're getting serious, talking about marriage and kids."
By that time, they'd reached an open table and Clark pulled out a chair for her, waiting until she'd seated herself before crossing over to his own seat. Throughout the maneuvering, he continued to give her a short version of all the changes "The Goonies" had suffered since they'd left the Goon Docks. "Mikey's an archeologist now. Working at the museum with his father was a little too tame for him. He was always searching for an adventure. I think he considers himself the next Indiana Jones."
She laughed, as he'd intended and he found himself studying her in the sunlight. She was gorgeous, always had been, even as a child. Her angular, striking figure had filled out a bit more, giving her the softer, curvier angles of a woman. She'd let her hair grow. That was what had thrown him off right away. It was those masses of blonde hair, cascading over her shoulders like angel's wings. But she was still the same Stef he remembered from when he was a boy. Brilliant, just a tad too serious, but always ready to spar with him about one thing or another. He had missed her, he admitted to himself with a slight shock, quite a bit.
"And Data?" She prompted, when it became clear he wasn't going to continue without a bit of encouragement.
Clark grinned. "Do you remember how we always used to make fun of him for his crazy inventions?" She nodded and he continued. "Well, it turns out that the goop he used to fill his shoes with to create his "Slick Shoes" was actually a very effective oil substitute. He's making a mint selling it to car manufacturing companies."
"So Data finally invented something useful after all." She mused. Their waitress arrived at that moment and after they had placed their orders, she turned back to him. "And what about you, Mr. Mouth?" She teased, invoking him old nickname.
"Well, I studied languages in college since everyone said my real talent was talking." He offered her a mischievous grin, silently reminding her of all the times she had told him to simply, "shut up." "I'm now a very successful translator for a business firm here in the city."
"No wife or kids?" She asked, genuinely interested in his life since they had last seen each other.
"I should be asking you the same thing." He chided, but finally answered. "No wife or kids. But I am getting older. I don't suppose you'd be willing to fill the spot?" His voice held a teasing lilt, but he found himself feeling uncharacteristically somber as he waited for her response.
She smiled, her eyes as warm and kind as her voice. "I don't think so. But thanks for the offer." Their food arrived at that moment, and they spent the rest of the meal chatting about their childhood and the adventures their group had always managed to find, even in repose. It was with a bit of a shock that Stef glanced up from her companion's laughing façade and realized that nearly three quarters of an hour had passed since their meal had began. The waiter had long since ceased checking on their progress and the check lay, untouched and forgotten on the table.
She gasped softly and forced her gaze back to Clark's. "I have to go! This has been absolutely wonderful, I wish I could stay, but I'm already late…" She fumbled through her bag, searching for her purse. He shook his head and reached across the table to stall her harried motions.
"Don't worry about it." He insisted, pocketing the check. "My treat." She protested for a few moments, but once he jokingly accused her of thinking him a cheap hero, she relinquished the battle with good grace.
"Next time, I'm paying." She insisted, as he drew her to her feet and led the way out of the crowded restaurant. He smiled, unsure if she recognized the implications of her gesture. Next time, she had said. And there would be, he assured himself as he handed her into her vehicle, smoothly tucking his card into her bag in the same motion and extracting from her the promise that she would call him soon to arrange their next lunch date.
Who knew? He mused as she pulled away from the curb and into traffic. Perhaps the Goonies will have a happy ending after all.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O
MM7 says:
I actually began this story some time ago on a bit of a whim after watching the movie for the first time in years. I found it while sorting through my folder and thought I'd finish it.