somethingwithturquoise | MHA #8; Sunday Afternoon [12/18].

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MHA #8; Sunday Afternoon [12/18].

Soooo, a lot had happened last week, and don't even get Summer started on the multiple Summers of it all. In fact, she was quite ready to breeze right past that (and a little further back, too, while she was at it), generally pretend nothing had happened, and head on upstairs with a armful of baking supplies and very specific cookie cutters and baking molds to go knocking on Stark's door.

Because there were supposed to be cookies today, and cookies there would be. Like she was one to let a very weird week stop her from blatantly ignoring any awkwardness that might have occurred and just move on with her damn life.

[[ for he that lives there! ]]

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"Remember?" Summer said. "We talked about it last week."

Not that anything had happened in the past week that may have sort of left that lost in the weeds, or anything.

"We were talking about putting crab in cookies, and then we were all, 'okay, but what if they were just shaped like crabs' and I was all 'something about the party maybe because, hilarious, it would be crabs but kkosher'"

Or something like that.

A lot had happened since then.

"I forgot," Stark admitted. Because there was a lot going on lately. So much.

"Sorry. Come in," he said,
stepping back so she could get through the door."

"Crab shaped cookies sound good. Much better than cookies made of crabs."

"I would have brought lobster," said Summer as she breezily took the invitation to sweep right in and head for the kitchen, "but Amaya's place is too out of the way."

"I don't think she would appreciate you baking her lobsters," Stark pointed out. "And I don't think I'd want to make someone with so many weapons angry."

He tried to avoid making people angry as a general rule if he could help it.

"What did you bring? I should have most things for baking, I think. You're sure you're not a robot?"

Look, that was a very normal segue.

"I am not a robot," Summer assured him, although she was flattered that he'd asked. "But you can try and fuck me up with magnets, or cut me to see if I bleed, if you want proof."

Look, a Summer was a Summer was a Summer.

"And, yeah," she set her things on the counter, "I figured you'd have plenty of the basic baking shit on hand, so this is all mostly decoration things. God knows I've got way too much that hanging around my place anyway."

"I have no desire to...'fuck you up,'" Stark said quickly, only stumbling a little over the words. "And I'm not going to cut you! I don't want to hurt you. Any version of you."

"Are we going to make the cookies red or use icing to decorate?" he asked, looking over what she'd put on counter. "Or will they just be crab-shaped? Icing is good, I think."

Even if it had the possibility of becoming very messy.

"I mean," said Summer, in a reasonable tone as she started pulling stuff out of the begs, "you probably should want to hurt some versions of me. Some versions of me would not hesitate to fuck you up. Some versions of me are total mega-bitches.

"And I definitely came prepped for icing," she said, holding up containers of red, pink, and blue, "as well as sprinkles."

There were too many different sprinkles to actually bother listing.

"But I like the idea of making some of them red, too."

"I didn't want to hurt the two that were here," Stark said, frowning. "Even if they weren't you. I haven't met a you I would want to hurt."

"We can use food coloring, for the red ones. Some of them are going to be pink? I think sugar cookies are easy enough to make vegan. I have butter that isn't really butter."

"I like the sprinkles," he added, grinning at the assortment of them.

As long as there wasn't edible glitter. Which he had in a cabinet somewhere.

Yeah, Summer figured glitter never needed the extra help around here.

"Of course there's going to be pink ones," she said, extracting from the bag some white frosting as well. "And you haven't really met that many other Summers, either."

Also, there was a good chance her perspective might be a bit skewed, since most of their homicidal tendencies tended to be very....self-focused.

"Three other yous, I think?" Stark said. "Two this weekend and one another weekend who thought I was your uncle? Unless there were more I've forgotten. Or ones I never knew about... but I'd like to think I'd notice if you weren't you."

And that she'd notice if he wasn't himself.

Nodding to himself he started opening cabinets for mixing bowls and ingredients. When he opened a drawer he pulled out a handful of gold-wrapped chocolate coins. "Those aren't mine."

"I do not remember the uncle one," Summer admitted, and she was fine with that, especially since she was now wondering if that time she thought she and Stark (as well as she and about half the town) were dating counted, but she was absolutely not asking, and was happily taking the distraction of the gold coins to veer away from that topic.

"Oh, yeah, I had some of those in my utensil drawer. Also, check your shoes. I had to switch to my secondary flags because I just mashed an unsuspecting doughnut into the toe of my favorite pair."

Best not to bring that up. Stark was also not going to question (out loud anyway) whether Tuesday's Summer was herself. Maybe Tuesday never happened! (Except he'd rather it had but he couldn't ever say that out loud either)

"There were doughnuts in your shoes? I haven't gone outside today so I haven't put any on. I hope the doughnut comes out of yours."

He turned to open the fridge then for the non-butter butter.

"They were jelly-filled, too," Summer informed him, making a face. "It's definitely going to be a process."

"That sounds..." Gross.

"Unpleasant. I'm sorry. I'll have to check mine if I go out. I don't think I'm going out. No reason to."

Stark already had company and something to do!

"Flour, butter, sugar, vanilla," he said, nodding at each container. "And so many sprinkles."

"So many sprinkles," Summer agreed, "and a ton of different crab-shaped cookie cutters. How did I get so many crab-shaped cookie cutters? I have no idea, but it probably had something to do with me being online under some sort of influencem."

"Maybe I should take some to the clinic tomorrow if we have extras. I don't have any crab cookie cutters. I don't have that many cookie cutters really."

Stark didn't make cookies that had shapes often at all.

"So it's a good thing you have so many. We'll have options, once we make some dough. We should start that. Butter and sugar first."

"We can each do our own batches," Summer agreed, reaching for a bowl of her own, "especially since there can't be too many cookies. And you'll have to bring some to the clinic tomorrow. You can't make crab cookies and then not bring them to the clinic."

"Never too many cookies," Stark agreed. "Unless they have seafood in them."

"And you're right," he said, nodding as he started on creaming the butter and sugar together. "The nurses and Stabby might never forgive me if they knew." And Stabby might get, well, stabby.

"On the bright side," said Summer, cheerfully, as she took to creaming a little herself, "if he does live up to his name, you won't have to go far for medical attention!"

"He did have a knife when he first arrived. I haven't seen it recently." Was that worrisome or not?

"I'm trying to avoid needing medical attention. People get upset with me when things happen like getting shot a little."

Was Stark grinning a little down at his bowl when he said that? Yes.

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MHA #8; Sunday Afternoon [12/18].

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