somethingwithturquoise | MHA #4; Saturday Evening [03/11].

Entry tags:

MHA #4; Saturday Evening [03/11].

Having Annie back had been such a relief that Summer hadn't even really realized how much she'd been suppressing how worried she'd been until she didn't have to worry anymore, and the tension she'd been carrying on her shoulders got a whole lot lighter. And since it had been fairly early when she did come over, Summer was able to use that evening after she left to get some good ass sleep and woke up feeling...well, there was still a lingering trace of a hangover in there, but it was reduced to a dull murmur rather than the intrusive roar it had been yesterday.

And then she was thinking about the fact that her mere two glasses yesterday, bolstering her girl talk with ice cream instead, had barely put a dent in the amount of sangria she had made for last night's original plans, and then the remade plans with that guy from Tinder she'd been jerking around with rescheduling, and figured, fuck it, he was getting jerked around a little more and she canceled, with the promise to really make it up to him if he was willing to meet up on Monday instead.

Like, really make it up to him...

And, with that squared away, she felt a...slight moment of hesitation, before sending out another text:

u still have those cupcakes?

[[ for the recipient of said text, of course~ And it gets a little NSFW-y, who would have ever thouuuuuught?? ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"Although," said Summer, after washing her bite down with some sangria and then carefully nudging the back of her hand against the corner of her mouth, "between this and the ice cream last night, I am seriously on the way toward a major sugar crash."

Another sip.

"Or diabetes."

The alcohol, however, would be fine; she was genetically disposed to have a superhuman liver.

"If you just keep having sweet things maybe you won't crash?" No. That wasn't really how it worked, Stark.

"Did you find sangria flavored ice cream too?" He asked curiously. "That sounds good."

"But this is good too." He took another sip of the sangria before taking another bite of cupcake. "Together."

"That's not how that works, Stark," Summer echoed the narrative with a snort, scooting forward, toward the edge of the couch, so she could reach over for the pitcher on the coffee table to refill her glass before getting too settled in. "And no sangria flavored ice cream; Annie brought over Ben & Jerry's; she had Cherry Garcia, but I stuck with Phish Food because one time, my dad ate this nasty infected Cherry Garcia that my grampa kept in his personal freezer and had to be rushed to an alien hospital where they wanted to chop off his dick to save some civil rights leader, so now I can't even go near the stuff."

Sorry, Stark, you weren't just back from an apocalypse, so you actually did get to hear the Cherry Garcia story, but at least you were also being offered a refill your sangria now to make up for it?

Stark held out his glass for the refill while fighting an urge to cross his legs.

"They wanted to chop...No. How would that help? No."

He hadn't expected the conversation to take that sort of turn. At all. And he hurriedly popped the last bit of cupcake into his mouth so he could drop his free hand to his lap.

Summer couldn't help but grin at that less than subtle reaction, and after a very brief moment of thinking she shouldn't, decided to just go ahead and say it, as she set the pitcher back on the coffee table.

"Don't worry, Stark. Your dick will be safe here with me."

She then leaned back on the back of the couch, pulling her legs up and folding them underneath her as she continued, because he had asked, after all.

"But apparently, whatever kind of alien this guy was, their hearts have almost the exact shape and design as a human penis, enough so that all they had to do, apparently, was just make a few alterations, and since they almost never got humans out there in that space hospital, it was really an opportunity too good to pass up."

Of course, at this point, Summer was now realizing that this conversation involved an uncomfortable awareness of her own father's junk, which you'd think would be something that wouldn't tug at those heartache strings with regards to her recent breakup, but then you'd actually, unfortunately, be very wrong.

Edited 2023-03-11 20:18 (UTC)

Look, Stark was rather attached to his body having briefly lost it the once and that included all of his parts.

He took a very long sip of his sangria which had thankfully just been refilled.

"I'm sure all of me is safe with you." Was that better, really? Was it?

"I...your poor father."

"Eh." Summer shrugged a shoulder, took a nice, long sip of her wine. "He ended up going totally psycho over it and shooting up the place. It did not go well for him and it was brutal, but, like, it was a space hospital, they fixed him back up in no time."

Which really made a person wonder if they'd really needed a human penis to properly reconstruct Shrimply Pibbles' heart, if they could put Jerry back together again so well after splattering his guts all over the walls like that. But she was kind of over conversations about her dad's junk, especially on this couch, even if she had technically brought it up.

"Your family all lead very odd lives, don't they?" Was it genetic?

And should Stark avoid whatever corner of space this had occurred in because he was mostly human-shaped and he'd really rather not have to worry about this sort of thing.

"But there must be better things to talk about than...that. Like...I don't know. Something else. Anything else?"

"Literally anything else," Summer agreed, with emphasis, chugging a good deal of her sangria before quirking her chin at Stark. "You go. I don't trust myself not to inadvertently stumble into another story involving the private parts of my family members."

Especially not when it was apparently going to push her toward remembering how it was her father being nude in an alternate dimension's version of Titanic that lead to Barry accidentally calling her his girlfriend that one time, and starting to feel a little wibbly about it.

God, she just had to tell the Cherry Garcia story, didn't she? UGH.

She drank a little more, and then unfolded her legs to grab the pitcher again.

"Maybe," Stark said, taking a nice long drink from his own glass for good measure, "something without anyone's...private parts involved?"

Unless someone felt a need to ask about pollen week.

"What do you want me to talk about? I think you know most things that happen to me..."

Oh, sure, because that was exactly what Summer would want to ask about. Everyone else having an awesome pollen week while she spent hers suffering horribly.

And since she was topping off her own glass, she was then topping off Stark's, too, because she was a good bartender.

"You asking me what I want you to talk about," she pointed out, "is still me choosing what to talk about. What do you want to talk about?"

But Summer would get to watch Stark squirm while admitting how utterly shameless he'd been that week!

"We could...talk about what horrors you have planned for class this week," Stark suggested with a grin. "You don't have worse cupcakes than the ones with spaghetti-os and cheese waiting for me, do you? Or is that still making you choose?"

...watching him squirm even just a little would, she had to admit, feel like some decent payback, ngl.

"I haven't even thought of what I plan to do for class this week," Summer admitted, setting the pitcher back down and falling back against the back of the couch with a fwoomp that made her realized that she really filled those glasses up to the brim and should probably be a little more careful, but it was fine, because that was why her couch was so wine-stain resistant. "I usually don't come up with something until Sunday, if I'm perfectly honest, so, yeah, still making me choose. Try another. Unless..."

She assed a little bit of a grin over to him.

"You want to make any requests. Suggestions? Favorite foods that I can look forward to ruining for you forever?"

There would be so much squirming.

Stark took a hurried sip from his glass to keep it from spilling.

"Tiny was melting cheese on the bar yesterday. I'm sure you could do something with that. But I don't think you'd ever really ruin anything for me forever. Not really. Not even if it was very gross."

"Challenge fucking accepted!" Summer declared, lifting her glass to emphasize this vow, the one she definitely had no intention of actually fulfilling, because she could never withstand the betrayed puppy look that she'd inevitably get if she ever did make Stark eat something gross. She took another drink before adding, "I've got a ton of cheese in my fridge right now, if you want, I can go get some and we can add it to the sangria."

"I do not want cheese in my drink," Stark said firmly. "I didn't want it in my drink last night either. I just had vodka. Not so good as sangria."

He paused and took another gulp from his glass before adding, "the company is better tonight too."

"Just vodka?" asked Summer, giving Stark a nearly withering look before she shook her head and took a self-righteous sip of her sangria. "The bartender's much better tonight, too.

"But thank you," she added, pulling herself up importantly. "I'm glad I can rank above at least..." She squinted a little, trying to remember what day yesterday was. "Lucifer and Tiny?"

"Of course the bartender is better," Stark said. "It's you."

Stark had one favorite bartender. She was sitting right next to him.

"And of course you rank above Lucifer and Tiny...and Eric." Though Eric would win in one category. "How could you not? You're you."

"Well, I mean," said Summer, that confidence waning slightly as she really took a moment to consider what she was up again, "one is a gorgeous ancient vampire and the other is God."

She didn't know what the fuck Tiny was supposed to be, so she was just going to skip him.

"So.....pretty tough competition there."

"He's a very pretty vampire but you're you," Stark said softly. "I would choose you over both of them."

Was that too sincere? Too late now. Better drink some more sangria to cover up that excess sincerity.

There was a blink, a very quick dismissal of an obviously ludicrous thought, a very quick sip from her glass, and then a very incredulous, "Even at the same time?"

And then, an executive decision, with Summer moving to try and take Stark's glass from his hand. "As your bartender, I think it's my duty to cut you off now, Stark, you've clearly been overserved."

Stark sputtered for a moment. "I don't want that!"

And Lucifer was very taken and had never shown any interest! Eric had shown plenty of interest though.

"And I haven't had too much," he protested, reaching up with his free hand to catch Summer's wrist before she could take the glass. "I just...it's true."

It wasn't about actual possibilities, Stark, it was clearly just a hypothetical!

But there was nothing hypothetical about that intercepted grab, and Stark's hand around her wrist and the fact that the reach had brought her very close to him. She felt a flush start rising to her cheeks as she looked at him, but made no effort to move away...yet.

"Well, I guess," she finally managed to get out, "if we're factoring in personalities, they are both insufferably arrogant dicks with incredibly childish conflict resolution tendencies for how fucking old they both are..."

Said with the utmost love, you guys! For real.

It would have been a more appealing hypothetical a few weeks back.

"I haven't spent much time with Lucifer," Stark said. "At least now he's stopped calling me a priest."

He hadn't let go of her wrist yet.

"Eric isn't too insufferable. Him I've spent more time with."

Awkward moment to bring that up.

And Summer wasn't exactly trying to take her wrist back, either, although there was a part of her brain that was kind of wishing she could set down her own wine glass because this situation definitely seemed a bit...precarious, and she was mostly just sort of holding it away at awkward angle.

But most of her brain was desperately trying to work up something, anything else to provide another counterargument with, but she was having an incredibly difficult time thinking right now.

"....and still me, huh?" was all she managed to get out.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject