somethingwithturquoise | MHA #4; Saturday Morning [04/20].

There had been a lot of things Summer had been thinking about, thoughts that she frequently pushed to the side to focus on one distraction or the next, but were still no less present there in her mind. Some of those thoughts had already been pretty front and center last night, even before Atton went and poked at them and stirred them all up into pretty much a bubbling froth. But then there was the conversation she had with Rey at the bar when the island was doing its truth thing, and even before that, with Dean turning her down, because it just felt like a shitty thing to do to Stark.

She'd been thinking about it a lot, actually.

To the point where she didn't really sleep well last night, even as tired as she was from prom and post-prom club hopping, her brain just going over things and examining them and disecting them and just trying to figure them out. She did manage to doze a little bit, but, for the most part, she was back out of it way too early, and listening to the steady rhythm of Stark's breathing and his heartbeat as he slept and thought about how he always did sleep better when he was with her.

And how, for an absurd amount of time, she had it right in the palm of her hand the ability to give him the one thing he really wanted, and she'd just dangled it over his head to see how high he could jump to try and get it, and then just kept raising the bar higher and higher, and god, what an absolutely shitty thing to do to a person, especially one you claimed to care about and love...

What absolute Rick Sanchez behavior, tbh.

And one thing in particular that Atton had said last night just kept ringing in her head: Give it another six months and I'm sure he'll be shaped exactly like your perfect boyfriend.

But what even was that? What sort of impossible standard was she setting for him to meet, that he wasn't already? She sure as hell didn't know. Rey had suggested that she take some time to just 'be single,' but she'd tried to do that, and it all just kept leading her right back to Stark.

He'd definitely put in the time. And it wasn't like they practically weren't already there in everything but an official sense, to the point where even some guy who'd barely known either of them for a week was, even under the influence of island-induced horny pollen, was just all nah, man, there is a lot going on there already.

Maybe she really should stop being such an asshole coward about it and actually give this a serious shot.

And the timing....well, could it be any more perfect? Because today was the Highest of Holy Days for Summer, and she'd already planned on celebrating in her usual epic fashion. But now? Stark would wake up, they would talk, she would finally activate that one thing that she knew would make him so fucking happy he might just throw up, and then they could ride that emotional high into an actual high and just exist all wrapped up in that bubble all day while trying to come up with some of the most absurd and ridiculous flavor combinations to satiate that inevitable demand of needing to nosh....

It was kind of perfect, actually?

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

[[ and you know who it's for. ]]

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"You think?" asked Summer, with a snorted and a shake of her head. "Well," she added, as she shifted along with Stark, leaning into him as he sat up and gently placing a hand against his cheek, "maybe this'll help you figure it out."

And the kiss was two-fold, to give him just a little bit of time to wake up more before she sprung everything on him (which she felt she needed to do ASAP, lest she lose the gumption she'd finally mustered up for it) and to hopefully help ease him away from immediately jumping yo the wrong conclusion when she did, eventually, pull away.

She hoped gee hand dropping softly to his chest, her eyes bright as she looked at him steadily, and the soft, almost eager smile on her face would help, too.

"I think we should talk about something."

"Very good so far," Stark corrected himself when she pulled back.

That wasn't, he thought, the sort of kiss you gave someone before saying things like 'it's over' or 'i'm leaving forever' or 'get the hell out of my apartment.' Still, he was looking at her with a bit of concern.

"About what? You know I'll listen."

Just ignore that his heart had started beating faster, Summer. It was fine. He was fine.

"You're all right?"

Kind of hard to ignore it, even with her hand as light against his chest as it was, but this was good! He hadn't immeditely jumped to the first doom and gloom scenario, though she could tell he was fighting against the impulse, so that earned him at least another soft kiss as she reconsidered how best to day it.

Like, Stark wouldn't mind, if it was all corny as hell, but her ego sure would.

"I'm fine," she assured him, first and foremost. "I've just been thinking...a lot....about us. And, like, where we are and where we might be going, and, you know, it has been over a year, since me and Barry broke up, and last night you were just so..."

No, not perfect. But pretty damn close enough.

"Good."

And she paused, watching him carefully, to see if he could see where she might be going with this, if he'd even let himself see it.

"I had fun last night," Stark said carefully. That wasn't something he said all that often, was it?

"And even finding my clothes, before, I liked that. And then going out again after the dance." Even if going strange places was still something he struggled with a bit. It helped being with someone you knew would have your back if an issue arose.

"It was a good night. And you had fun. And it was just...good." And then they'd come back here and that was good as well because that was always good.

He was watching her curiously because no, he wasn't getting it. What she might be about to say wasn't even a possibility and he knew that.

There was a soft, almost sad smile,over the fact that, yeah, no, he didn't see where she was going with this, especially since she knew it was because she'd pretty much emotionally brow-beat him into dutifully looking the other way.

It wasn't a good feeling. It was a horrible feeling, actually, that made her stomach knot and it even felt like her skin was tingling, suddenly very uncomfortable, like it just suddenly didn't fit anymore.

But she was going to make it better. No more just perking him around anymore.

"Stark," she said, and, ohgod, why did she suddenly feel really strange? Was this just the weight of ethical repercussions on her shoulders?, "I think I'm ready."

And she looked at him intently, willing him to feel the weight of that, to really understand what she meant.

"I'd really like for us to finally make this--"

But that's when it became clear that it wasn't actually the side-effects of a guilty conscious making Summer feel strange. Because her hand left Stark's chest, her words halted completely in her own mouth, and she soon only let out a small, disgruntled squeak as her much smaller (and fuzzier) body hit the bed.

Because, just like that, she realized the reason she felt so weird was because she was turning into a goddammit squirrel again!

Summer, NO! This was the worst timing. The worst. Why did the universe do these things to him?

He'd been watching her carefully, so seriously, and it had started to sink in. What she might be saying and his face had lit up like his mask had been removed and then...then there was a squirrel in place of his...no, he still didn't have a word for it because she hadn't finished the thought!

"Make this what?" Stark asked, sounding a bit desperate as he looked at the much smaller and fuzzier Summer with a very sad expression on his face. He had an idea, yes, but she hadn't said it and what if she'd been meaning to say something else entirely?

"Summer." Yes, it was probably unfair to say her name like that when she was a squirrel but what was he supposed to do under these conditions?

JESUS FUCKING GODDAMN CHRIST ON A GODDAMN FUCKING CRACKER SHIT BALLS GODDAMN FUCKING ASSHOLE JERKOFF FUCKING DAMMIT

All this, of course, emerged from Summer's mental state in a flurry of furious furry squeaks and chitter, followed by burying her face in her paws for a moment, and then, groaning, dropping her paws and splaying herself oit like like a deflated squirrel roadkill pancake on the side of the highway.

Her tail twitched.

This was bullshit.

And, most offensive of all?

That it happened today!

Was there anything more tragic than being stuck as a squirrel on four-fucking-twenty??

Yeah, Summer, Stark felt that. He groaned and covered his face for a minute before looking back at her all flat and despondent.

"I'm sorry," Stark said quietly. "I hope it doesn't last long."

Maybe it was just the island being funny and she'd be back to herself by dinnertime!

"It will be all right. I'll make the day up to you another time if I need to."

4/20 (Observed) could be a thing!

"For now...I don't know. You'll let me know if you need anything? And I'll just...be here. Or upstairs."

Summer sighed again, staring up at the ceiling with her newly tiny little squirrel eyes, listening to Stark figuring out what he should do now in a typically Stark fashion.

But when he suggested upstairs, she shook her head with a protesting squeak at the idea of being abandoned while in such a state. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, adjusting her tail and attempted to explain as much in emphatic quirrel chittering and gestures.

"I'll stay!"

Stark had enough practice talking to squirrels by now and talking to Summer that it wasn't that hard to discern what she wanted.

"And you can stay with me, if you like, or we can stay here. I... I'll make sure nothing happens."

Translation: I'll fling Leroy into a wall if necessary.

"And hopefully this will all be over soon."

MHA #4; Saturday Morning [04/20].

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