somethingwithturquoise | MHA #4; Friday Evening [08/26].

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MHA #4; Friday Evening [08/26].

So there was at least one good thing about spending the week where one of your bestie's other job completely exploded in an inglorious series of very dramatic, very cool events that changed everything in a galaxy far, far away....and that was that when it came to making the absolutely now required aftermath sangria, Summer could make it using space shit.

There was just something about space sangria that just made it better. Probably because it involved using booze meant to knock out individuals with much higher constitutions than the average human.

Either way, she was glad that she brought her portal gun with her on her trip with Lana so that she could duck out when necessary, and she was particularly glad that she had not needed to use it for some catastrophic emergency (although one could argue that a sangria night of this magnitude kind of was an emergency).

But she was back, she had her space sangria ready, and now all she had to do was wait for Annie to make that long and arduous trek down the hall from her apartment to Summer's, all the while fending off a whole wave of passive aggressiveness and irritated looks from Pancakes, who had clearly not appreciated Summer's absence this week.

"I could have just left you with Barry for another day, you know," she reminded her, a point that Pancakes begrudgingly acquiesced to her before stalking off to find the best position to just sit and sulk at her while she had her sangria.

[[ for the ex-Miss Starlight, pls! With a big fat CW for discussions of violence, SA, death, and everything you'd expect from a drunken aftermath thread of this magnitude ]]

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"Oh my God. What did Sidon ever do to you?" Annie wondered, eyes wide as she considered this.

Because -- like. That did not sound like it was going to end with poor Sidon not being just wildly harassed. "Until a couple weeks ago, I would've said I thought Deep was straight, but...."

But now octopuses...octopi?* were involved, and maybe that was a good indication that Deep was actually something more like pan, right?
__
*it was octopodes, Annie.

She warned you that it was terrible!

"More like just kind of wiggly," Summer concluded, lifting a finger and twisting it around in the air like her best (worst?) impression of a tentacle.

You could feel free to regret imparting this information to Summer at any time now, Annie. But for now, Summer put away her awful finger and slid up from the couch with a declaration of, "I'm gonna get the second pitcher!" and a flounce off to the kitchen.

But she wouldn't leave Annie with just that thought as she called out, "Do you know if he has, like, some sort of secret magic shell or whatever that gives him his powers? Like, I know that's not how powers work in your world, but apparently, that's a thing with this ocean guy who was my grampa's nemesis for a while? Mr. Nimbus? And, like, if you found his shell and destroyed it, it apparently destroyed his powers."

Unlike blowing it, which only made him stronger, which she learned the hard way, but now she knew.

"Your grandpa had an ocean nemesis?" That called for more drinking, yes. One of these days, Annie felt like she kind of needed to meet this grandfather of Summer's -- though, having met a version of her mom, she wasn't exactly surprised at the kind of stock Summer came from. It was more just that this guy sounded busy. "Did you destroy his shell? I think Deep just has, like, gills or something."

Though where he kept them, she wasn't sure. They weren't on his neck, so maybe she was wrong? But he definitely could breathe underwater, so it followed....

"No!" said Summer, with an affronted sound from the kitchen, before emerging with the second pitcher in hand and reclaiming her space with a top off for both glasses before setting it aside. "I blew it, because Rick didn't tell me I was supposed to destroy it instead, and apparently, that just made Mr. Nimbus stronger, and also, apparently, he controls the police?"

That had, at the time, been an important detail?

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "The whole thing was fucked and reminded me why I do not go home anymore if I can help it. But I was in the area for some reason..." For the life of her, she couldn't remember why, obviously she needed some space or to get away from something, and it was going to bother her now that she couldn't recall the details, "...and I swear, as soon as I hit my own dimension, he's blowing up my phone, being all 'ooooh, Summer, I need your help! You're the only one I can trust, Sum-Sum, I'm a total piece of shiiit, meeerrrn.'"

Not to, like, highjack your entire world imploding with a small Grampa-related rant tangent, or anything, though, Annie.

Pff. Considering how rare it was to get Summer to actually talk about what was going on with her, Annie welcomed the rant.

"You're the only one he can trust, but also he didn't tell you how to actually fuck the guy up? Nice immediate failure setup, dude. What a manipulative tool," Annie replied, skeptical of Grampa Rick, here. "Wait, wait, do you mean you blew it, like..."

Annie actually blew through her hand like a little horn, and that sounded much more interesting and kind of fun than the 'I blew it' she'd initially heard as a general declaration of failure.

Summer giggled a little bit at the gesture. "Yeah, no," she confirmed, "like, literally blew it, and, by doing so, also totally metaphorically blew it, if you asked Rick, but, whatever, yeah, like, it's his own fault, maybe next time be a little clearer with your instructions, my dude."

She took a sip, a sort of thoughtful one, and then admitted, "Honestly, I was kind of hoping blowing the shell would wind up giving me the powers, and then I could be the one to, like, totally destroy him or whatever."

But, alas!

"Dude, and then you'd have like, ocean powers, and I would kind of love that." Who needed to recruit a poor, unsuspecting shark man who'd get sexually harassed by The Deep when you could just bring your own bestie, who you knew would happily throw a merman's trident or something right through The Deep's balls, into the mix? "But also, like -- that was a solid strategy, Summer, I don't blame you. That sounds like it should have destroyed the dude. Am I allowed to say your grandpa kinda sounds like he sucks? Because he does. You deserve better."

Plus, she looked good as hell in a wetsuit.

"Oh," said Summer, with Em.Pha.SIS. "You're totally allowed to say my grampa sucks, Annie, because he does. He sucks....so hard. Like, I swear to god, he's half the reason why none of this Homelander bullshit surprised me in the slightest. The magic conch shell isn't even the beginning of it, Annie, but we do not have enough sangria to start falling down that rabbit hole. There's not enough sangria in the world for that rabbit hole."

"Can I request a raincheck?" Annie asked, smiling a little. "'Cause man, you've listened to me rant and rant and rant, and I still have to ask you something important, but like -- Summer, you deserve to bitch about your grandfather all night, sometime, I'm super here for it. Especially if he's the reason you were able to predict Homelander."

Summer's grampa did not sound like exactly the same sort of sociopath, but maybe it was only because he sounded like he had more of a sense of humor.

There were times where Summer almost felt that Rick was honestly a worse kind of sociopath, because Rick could make you actually believe he cared. And get you to fall for it, each and every time.... She felt anyone who wound up trusting a guy like Homelander was just asking for it....

"You've had more than enough good reason to rant," Summer pointed out. "And rant and rant. All I've got is a lame dumb grampa."

Who was an emotionally manipulative superhero who almost lead the world to get entirely destroyed on multiple occasions and abandoned his grandkids places and took over the lives of different versions of himself and....and....and....

Summer took a big, big drink, wiping the remnants from her mouth with the back of her hand, and maybe, just maybe, let out a small burp that, if she remembered it in the morning, was going to sort of haunt her a lot.

"What did important something did you need to ask me?"

Because focusing on that? Much better right now, thanks.

Annie wasn't so drunk as to not notice a perfectly executed Summer Smith step-and-ball-change to a different subject away from herself and her own family. (She also noticed that, frankly, adorable little burp. With Annie's in-laws and home universe, bodily functions weren't going to throw her too hard.) (Though, granted, Annie was unaware of any hereditary tendencies here, as well.)

But. That all being said, she'd just continue to keep an eye out for conversational openings where she could delve a little more into Summer's dumb grampa, and her dad who kept bees and maybe had a thing with Billy Zane, once, and her horse surgeon mom who also was a badass, maybe, and her incredibly normal sounding brother.

"I assume you've heard my Maid of Honor died in a blaze of glory," Annie ventured, after taking a sip of her drink. And at this point in sangria time, she wasn't quite so weepy as she'd been inclined to be about Alex -- partly because she knew the truth, here -- but she was definitely sort of wistful about asking.

"Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhh," said Summer, slowly, dragging that out a little bit, because, duh, of course she knew, it was fucking everywhere with everything she'd been keeping up on, but Summer also had to sort of wonder if there was more to that than met the eye because, well....

She literally didn't believe anything put out with the Vought stamp of approval these days, and took pretty much everything from Annie's world with a grain of salt so big it could be considered a small planetoid.

Which was why she was eying Annie a little scrupulously as she followed that up, simply, with, "So what the fuck is up with that?"

Because if it did just so happen to be the one thing in the media that was right. that was going to suck and Summer was going to be really glad Annie brought that extra wine, because fuck, man. Fuck, fuck, capital-F Fuck.

Annie worried her lower lip a little before shrugging a shoulder and telling -- most of the truth. "Maeve was the one who finally took out Solider Boy. I saw her do it. She jumped out a 99th floor window with him, and they blew up. She's a hero."

She raised her glass in a slightly-wobbly little toast. "And she's also really fucking tough." And now there was a wobbly little smile with the wobbly little raised glass. "Don't tell anyone."

Annie knew Summer could keep a secret, but like -- Annie was determined to treat this as if Maeve had died, effectively. It was clearly what she wanted.

And Summer narrowed her eyes a little at Annie, at her wobbly glass and her wobbly smile and her wobbly toast, and wondered if it was her own wobbliness that was making her think that there were a few things between the lines there, but that 'don't tell anyone' was definitely sticking in a certain way that made her nod, slowly, not as certainly as she would have liked, but they were definitely in a territory where certainty felt like a big ask.

"Can't even ask for a better way to go than that," said Summer. With a wink.

Or, well, it tried to be a wink, but it turned out more 'something caught in the eye' than 'something conspiratorial.'

Look. Space sangria didn't fuck around, okay?

"'xactly," Annie agreed, fairly sure that Summer had caught her meaning (and hopefully did not actually have something in her eye? She was mildly worried.) But! Not so mildly worried that she had forgotten that she had a question to ask, here. "But -- even if she's tough, I'm down a wedding party member again."

Though now she was sad she hadn't brought a gift, since she was thinking this moment called for a little drama. Maybe ten decoy gifts, even, as was now tradition!

But in any case, Annie was very carefully setting her sangria down, and carefully pushing the coffee table out so she could carefully move (slide) to the floor, to one knee, and reaching for Summer's hand. "Summer Smith, will you be my Maid of Honor?"

"Oh. Em. Geeeee," said Summer, with a little bit of a squeal that was half absolute delight when she realized what it was that Annie was doing, and half just trying not to bust out laughing and ruin this perfect, beautiful moment. She let Annie take her hand, and went to move her other hand to her heart, which was a little awkward because she still had her glass and the coffee table was now too far to reach in any sort of subtle way.

"Rebecca Anne January," she started, impressed by how only the slightest snort escaped her at the end, just a little, "yes! Yes, I will!"

Kinda sucked that Maeve had to go down in a blaze of glory for it to happen, but O H W E L L.

Summer would just have to make a very touching tribute in her speech or whatever.

There would be plenty of tributes to Maeve in the future, never fear. And she'd never wanted to be Annie's stupid Maid of Honor, anyway.

"I should've asked you in the first place," Annie said in clear, drunken glee as she scrabbled back up for a gleeful, drunken hug to commemorate the moment. "You're going to be the best."

Wasn't like Summer hadn't already been on Bachelorette Party Duty and Make Sure This Goes Off Without a Hitch Duty and You Can't Bring That in Here, Take That Shit Back Out to Your Car Duty, and Oh Darn I Just Spilled My Red Wine All Over Your Inappropriate White Dress Duty, and so on.

Yeah, right? Like, Maeve, you had it, like, sooooo easy.

"Duh-doy," said Summer, rolling her eyes as she took that hug, but she was grinning stupidly and her shoulders hitched up in that particularly pleased way just before she set to the task of hugging the crap out of Annie in response. "I'll be sure to give proper props to the fallen, too, and hey! Look at it this way! You've still even got another redhead to go through if anything happens to me next!"

Not that she wanted to, you know, like, put that out there, but she'd be the first to admit that anything could happen.

She'd be damned if she let anything happen without a good fight, though, at least.

Hey, at least that last remaining redhead had pretty classic taste if she needed to take over in, you know, the middle of an ongoing mental break-slash-possession. Annie wouldn't super mind a Wanda-themed wedding. It'd probably at least all go really smoothly? And with red accents!

"Nothing's going to happen to you," Annie decided resolutely, and maybe the hug got a little tighter there.

It had been a long few weeks, and all.

"Yeah, you're right," said Summer, who may have tightened the hug a little herself, in response to that tightening, and remembering why they were even here to begin with. "I've got way too much shit to do between now and the wedding to even have the time. Like, fuck off, literally anything else, I have my best friend's wedding to honorably preside over, you dicks."

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MHA #4; Friday Evening [08/26].

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