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

"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.

"Still you," Stark confirmed.

Eric had even offered last night, Summer!

"I'd always rather spend time with you."

He was looking too intently at her to notice her glass. At least the couch was very stain-resistant?

She'd gotten this couch for a reason.

Summer was quiet for a moment that wasn't really that long, but probably seemed to stretch for an eternity for the both of them, all things considered, before she asked, "Stark?"

Stark knew he probably ought to let go. He still hadn't. He was just gently holding her wrist and looking at her.

"Yes?"

The sangria, Summer reminded herself. If I really am getting this all wrong, I can always blame it on the sangria.

And the break-up, too. People did a lot of dumb shit after a break-up. Hell, she'd even thought about tracking down Hemorrhage at some point...

She licked her lips for a moment, because they felt impossibly dry all of a sudden and it was a shame her glass was all the way over there at this odd angle that she wasn't about to move from now, because, fuck, she could really use a drink of it right now. Her eyes dropped a moment toward Stark's lips, too, as if sort of planning something out before they lifted back up to his.

"Are you thinking," she finally asked, "about kissing me right now?"

"I..."

That was very direct, Summer.

"I shouldn't be. And I wouldn't. Ever. Unless..."

His voice trailed off and he just looked at her, not quite staring at her lips. He wasn't going to ask if she wanted him to. He didn't want her to say no.

And that was even more of a frustratingly dodgy-ass, spineless sort of entirely Stark answer that she almost wanted to solve her awkwardly-holding-my-wine problem by upending the entire glass over his head. She almost wanted to hold him accountable for that I wouldn't. Ever.. But she didn't really wanted to test the integrity of the stain-resistance of her couch and she was way too vulnerable right now to want to think too much on the implications of what he meant by that I wouldn't. Ever.

But what she actually did was let out a frustrated sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan, closed her eyes, pressed herself into him a little bit more for good measure, and murmured out, "Just fucking do it already, you fucking coward."

Edited 2023-03-11 23:54 (UTC)

He had only meant that he would never even consider trying something if he weren't absolutely certain that was what she wanted.

He was, right now, certain she did.

"Do this?" he whispered before leaning in to gently, so gently, press his lips against hers.

Definitely could stand to work on his phrasing around someone who was really struggling to come to terms with the weight of feeling so utterly unwanted in the wake if ending her relationship, but, clearly, tgat wasn't the only thing he could be working on.

"Like you fucking mean it, Stark."

Just ignore the soft sound that escaped and the way her body seemed to melt against his once their lips touched.

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