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Eddie swears, fumbling and nearly dropping the soapy pan in his hands as Steve’s voice pulls him from his dishwashing fugue state.
He doesn’t sound hurt or alarmed, nothing that would be any cause for concern, but his tone does have that petulant lilt to it that says he wants Eddie’s attention and he won’t give up until he gets it – not that he normally has to fight for it, but Eddie is busy.
“They complain that I don’t do the dishes, then they distract me while I’m trying to do the dishes,” Eddie grumbles as he snaps off the water and strips his dish gloves off. “Need to make up their damn minds.” He stomps out into the living room (as well as he can stomp with just socks on his feet) and finds Steve and Robin sitting on the couch, both staring at Robin’s laptop. “What.” he asks flatly.
Steve looks up, jabbing a finger in Robin’s direction. “Tell Robin I have a better ass than Mothman.”
“No,” Robin says, shooting a narrow-eyed look at Steve, “tell Steve that Mothman has a better ass than him.”
Eddie stares at the both of them for a moment. “What.”
Steve sighs. “I said, tell Robin–”
“No, I heard you,” Eddie cuts in, holding a hand up. “I just– Why are you even– How the fuck am I supposed to know what Mothman’s ass looks like?”
Giving him a look that says this should be entirely obvious, Robin flips her laptop around, the screen of which is covered with– ah. The Point Pleasant Mothman statue. Rather, a closeup of the Point Pleasant Mothman statue’s ass, which is, admittedly, bizarrely well-sculpted.
Eddie glances from the screen, up to Robin, over to Steve, and back again. “I’m… not sure I want to weigh in on this.”
“Ha!” Robin crows. “He didn’t immediately take your side, that means he thinks Mothman’s ass is better!”
“No! No, no,” Eddie says, pointing a finger at Robin. “I didn’t say that, don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Then why don’t you just tell Steve you agree with him?” Robin asks smugly.
“Yeah, Eddie, why don’t you just tell me you agree with me?” Steve chimes in, and Eddie wonders how he suddenly became the center of their argument.
“It’s just that Mothman is a known harbinger of death and disaster.” Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. “I feel like claiming you have a better ass than him is the kind of hubris that precedes getting cursed by the gods.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, Mothman isn’t a god–”
“Still.” Eddie shrugs.
“–and he also isn’t here right now, so I’m pretty sure you can tell me my ass is nicer without fear of getting cursed.”
“I dunno, Steve,” Robin hums. “There’ve been sightings of Mothman in Germany, Japan, Ukraine – all over the world. Who’s to say he’s not in Indiana?”
“All the shit that’s gone down here? I’m pretty sure if Mothman was going to show, he would have by now,” Steve deadpans, and Robin tilts her head with a roll of her eyes that says she reluctantly concedes his point.
“Unless we’re drawing his attention since we’ve said his name so many times,” Eddie says.
“No, I think that might be Bloody Mary,” Robin replies, and Steve huffs.
“Okay, regardless – look at it this way:” he says, turning to Eddie, “if you think Mothman has a better ass, you can drag yours all the way down to Virginia–”
“West Virginia,” Robin corrects.
“Whatever. You can go all the way down there and touch the statue’s ass, because you’re not gonna be touching mine,” Steve concludes.
And that’s just cruel. That’s fighting dirty. Steve knows Eddie will do anything for continued ass-touching privileges.
“Welp.” Eddie claps his hands together. “You heard it here first: Steve’s ass is better than Mothman’s.”
“Ha!” Steve exclaims, practically bouncing on the couch in excitement. “Told you!”
Robin groans, snapping her laptop shut. “That doesn’t count. Eddie’s biased and you cheated.”
“I did not cheat,” Steve sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“He’s right, it’s not cheating,” Eddie agrees. “He just used his assets.”
Robin and Steve stare at him.
“Get it?” Eddie asks with a grin. “Ass–”
“Boo,” Robin calls out, pulling a tissue from the nearby box with express purpose of balling it up to throw at him. It unballs and lands sadly on the coffee table two feet in front of her. “Go finish the dishes, you absolute goon.”
Eddie sighs, turning back to the kitchen. His contributions are woefully underappreciated around here.