somethingwithturquoise | The Cabin on Dwarf Terrace-9; Dimension FH-001; Saturday Evening [09/23].

The nice thing about having access to portals and a space ship was that if you wanted to get away for a while, you could really get away. No one cared about Dwarf Terrace-9; the most action Dwarf Terrace-9 had seen since the time the Smith family claimed it as a temporary home more than five years ago was when Summer took her class there earlier that week. But the cabin was still in good shape, and now that she and Stark had arrived for the weekend....well, it was definitely going to see a lot of action now.

Well, not at the moment, though. The tour of the planet had been very quick because, well, it was a tiny planet, you could literally travel around the whole thing in, like, half a day, and then they went inside to get things set up (how did a cabin that had been abandoned for five years still have all its utilities and power? Don't worry about it). There were cozy sweaters and hot chocolate and popcorn, and now it was time to pick a movie.

"So," said Summer, as she settled on the couch and snuggled in, "what are we watching?"

[[ for the glowy alien and NFB for distance, natch! ]]

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Stark was definitely filing away that 'hunted the only species to extinction' information for later. Now was not the time. Not that he could claim moral superiority. Moya's crew had done plenty of things they weren't proud of.

He tightened his grip on his gun and moved to stand beside her. He glanced toward the door and then back to Summer and nodded. He was ready, or as ready as he could be.

He mouthed an "okay" at her and faced the door.

The noises outside it were worrisome. But there was no one he would rather have by his side.

Accidentally! The accidentally was important!! Like, they had to eat, Stark! What, would you prefer the version of her that wasted away on a tiny planet before ever even coming to Fandom just because she refused to eat adorable tiny pigs to survive?

In the frame of the window looking over the porch, the unknown, unseen figure moved by, a tall, hunched silhouette cloaked by darkness. It paused, turning, and Summer, quickly, grabbed a hold of Stark's sleeve so she could pull him toward the back of the couch where they might be hidden if it looked inside through the window.

Whatever it was out there, it seemed to linger far too long for comfort there at that window, before it continued on, with those slow steps and dragging something as it made its way toward the door, and Summer, desperately, tried to remember if she'd locked it or not. Why would she have? They were supposed to have been alone!

Stark hadn't locked the door. This was a deserted tiny planet! Why did the door even have a lock?

Part of him wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. Standing their ground was better. Even if right now that meant hiding behind the couch, weapons in hand, waiting to see if whoever or whatever was outside was going to come inside.

Summer jumped, suddenly, and had to struggle to choke down a scream as the sound of a chainsaw seemed to rip through the air, but then she realized it was just the movie and she breathed out with a hissing whisper, "What the fuck was I even thinking?"

What she wouldn't give to be able to shut it off as the woman's screams lifted from the attempted attack, but there was no way she could reach the remote, and, besides, the handle on the door was jiggling. Maybe she had locked it after all? Either way, it was clear whatever was outside was struggling with it, and just as she considered firing a shot through the door at about chest length, the door actually flew open, with an incredible force, banging against the wall.

The figure stepped forward, dragging some big hulking thing behind it. Summer pounced, blaster aimed and opening her mouth to shout out, but--

"Jesus Christ, Summer."

Summer stopped mid-shout, blinked, and slightly lowered her gun.

"Grampa Rick?"

Jesus Christ, indeed.

"Ugh," she crumpled slightly, "I'd rather have the homicidal maniac."

Stark had definitely jumped when the door crashed open but if he'd let out a little scream it had been covered by the screams from the movie.

He moved to stand at Summer's shoulder, eyeing this intruder warily. His gun was still at the ready but it wasn't aimed at the other man. For now.

"Grampa?" He echoed very softly.

Oh no.

"What the hell, Summer?" Rick demanded, punctuating it with a staggered, irritated belch of a sound, as he stepped ito the cabin and tossed whatever big, heavy thing in a black bag (really, really, really better off not knowing!) to the side. "An entire fucking multiverse at your fingertips, and you're still re-using one-off locations for your hook-up spots?"

"Well, look who's talking," Summer argued back, giving him a withering look before folding her arms almost petulantly in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

There was a pause, a glance toward the bag. Which was...yup, definitely moving.

"Research," he said.

"Why do you always have to show up at the worst times?"

"Why don't you get your own material?"

"Well," Summer lifted her chin defiantly, "we were here on Tiny Planet first."

"And I," Rick said, digging a flask out of the pocket of his labcoat to take a swig, "didn't come all the way out here to Dwarf Terrace-9--which is its name, Summer, you fucking *brraawp* amateur, not fucking Tiny Planet--just to be shoo'd off so you can get your rocks off. I mean, I guess you can stay, if you're into that, but I'm sure as hell not leaving."

Satisfied that nobody was getting shot or attacked at the moment (though he'd heard enough about Summer's family that was really a guarantee) Stark lowered his gun and stepped even closer to Summer. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed once, gently.

"We were here first," he said. His voice stayed quiet. Even. "Didn't you notice the ship?"

It was pink, Rick. It was hard to miss!

"Oh, yeah," said Rick, looking over at Stark with the sort of mildly annoyed look one might give an NPC that had somehow managed to wander into a cut scene it had nothing to do with before it shifted to Summer in a way that seemed to suggest she be better about handling that since he couldn't exactly just eject this guy into space like he did whenever she'd snuck hook-ups into the back of his ship, "I noticed it."

Which meant that this intrusion had been very deliberate and pointed, and Summer knew it and she drew in a deep, deep breath before heaving the most incredulous sigh. "Whatever," she said, turning to start very pointedly gathering her things. "Tiny Planet is turning into a real dump now that the asshole gentrification has started. We were just about to leave anyway."

Stark was used to that sort of look. Stark hated that sort of look.

"That isn't a person in the bag, is it?"

Was that a wise question? Maybe not. But Stark hadn't brought much with him and his own bag was still closed and would be easy enough to grab in a moment.

The Cabin on Dwarf Terrace-9; Dimension FH-001; Saturday Evening [09/23].

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