stykera | MHA #4, Sunday Morning

There had been cupcakes last night and there had been sangria, as expected. What happened after had been unexpected. Perhaps not entirely so but unexpected all the same.

Now it was morning and Stark, having slept deeply once he'd finally gotten around to sleeping, was waking up in an unfamiliar bed next to a familiar body. More familiar now than it had been before last night. Still unfamiliar enough to be mildly startling when he realized who he was holding on to while he slept. That was Summer. This was Summer's bed. That was Summer's chest his arm was currently thrown across.

Should he just creep away and hope she had no regrets? Should he wake her up? Should he lie here and try not to panic over the thought that he might have irrevocably ruined a very important friendship?

For the moment he was going to try and remove his arm from its current position (tempting though it was to keep it there) without disturbing her.

[for the gently modded woman whose bed the alien is in...and maybe mildly NSFW?]

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But of course it would have disturbed her. Not in any clear and obvious way, because Summer, knowing far too well already that this was another morning where waking up meant dealing with a dull and droning hangover from drinking too much (again) last night, was going to try and cling to sleep for as long as she could. There'd been a shift, though, in a way she hadn't quite yet processed, that made her groan out a protest as she turned her face toward her pillow to bury it there and pretend that morning did not exist.

There was an added murmur of "Not now, Pancakes," because who else would be disturbing her sleep right now if not for an attention-and-food-starved cat? But even her groggy, already pounding head was able to determine that the weight shifting behind her back right now was way too heavy to be a cat, and her brow knitted as she tried to muddle through the blur that some of her evenings had become these last few weeks.

Sangria. Cupcakes. Her frown deepened and she turned, wincing at the light coming through her window, and trying to squint over her shoulder without moving too much.

"Stark?"

Hopefully it was just the movement disturbing her and not who was doing the moving.

"Yes? Yes," Stark answered softly. "I'm still me. I'm still here. Do you want me to go? I can go."

He was trying not to panic, he really was. And he'd promised to try not to be weird. He remembered that. He didn't want to be weird about this. What he wanted, really, was to pull her closer.

Summer grunted faintly. Well, if there was a way to confirm that it was Stark, and not just some other Stark-shaped person, it was a response like that.

Actually, no, he hadn't started apologizing yet. Actual Stark status still unconfirmed.

Summer was just going to linger in the annoyance that was waking up for a moment longer before she shifted, turning onto her back and a little more toward the other side, which was way more comfortable and efficient than talking over her shoulder.

And she met that very Stark response with a very Summer response to a Stark response, especially when it was too early for her to know what her answer to that question even was right now:

"Do you want to go?"

Just how many other Stark-shaped people had Summer woken up with lately?

He looked at her for a long moment before answering. Not with quite the same level of wonder as he had looked at her last night but it was close.

"I don't," he said quietly. "I don't want to go."

Woken up with? Well, none. Until right now, anyway, but there may have been someone that could fit that bill on Thursday. Sure, the mask shape was all wrong and you really had to look past the tail, but...

A look like that had Summer wondering just how big of a mistake she might have made here, especially since a look like that was definitely tapping into some shoved-aside self-doubts about anyone ever looking at her like that again.

So her shoulders just sort of lifted in a shrug. "Then don't," she said. "You don't have to."

Followed very shortly by, "Well, I mean, eventually, yes, you should..." She felt she should make that pretty clear, just in case. "But..." There was a faint, uncertain smile. "Not yet."

Then she almost added an unless you want to, but stopped herself, before she had to start worrying if Stark's Starkness was rubbing off on her now.

Well, obviously he couldn't stay here in the bed forever. Eventually he would have to leave.

"I know eventually," Stark said quietly, still giving her much the same look as before with an added crooked smile. "But I...I'm happy to stay for now."

"Very happy," he added a moment, just in case it wasn't clear.

He wanted to pull her close, or try to kiss her, or any number of other things. For now there was just that look of wonder with a hint of a question in it.

With Stark continuing to look at her like that, there was no way Summer could be subtle about her eyes dropping down to maybe check how happy was very happy, so she didn't even try to hide it, and when she looked back up at him, she did so with lifted brows.

And a few familiar beats from last night making its way through the pounding of her head.

"Stark," she said, "are you thinking about kissing me right now?"

Maybe Stark and his noticeable happiness could distract her from that headache.

"Yes," he said, voice low. "May I?"

He wasn't going to move unless he had permission.

May I? Jesus, Stark, what were you, a second-grader asking for the fucking bathroom pass?

Summer's headache demanded that she let that one slide, but not without at least a small withering look before she countered with a, "I don't know. I probably have some heinous hangover breath right now."

She bit her lower lip, only partially to hold back a small smirk.

"It could be kinda gross."

"Sometimes," Stark said in a conspiratorial whisper, "sometimes I like gross."

He pushed himself to a sitting position then leaned over her, keeping his weight on his arms before moving in to kiss her and nip at that lower lip that was just so tempting.

And here Summer had another just fucking do it already all locked and loaded and ready to drop, and she could not even be mad about not getting to fire it. That kind of progress with initiative was something she could definitely get behind, and she made that very evident with her returning kiss. Grinning into it a little, she slid jer hands up Stark's chest to loop her arms around his neck and pull him in to really show how much she appreciated it.

Stark breathed out a "Summer" that was both appreciative and slightly pleading as he let himself be pulled closer.

Maybe he could take a little more initiative since this was going well. While Summer's lips were very kissable there was so much other exposed skin begging to be explored this morning. He was going to start with her neck and maybe, maybe work his way further down.

Ugh, so not fair for Stark to be pulling out the big punches like saying her name this early. But Summer was absolutely not complaining.

Quite the opposite, really, with a soft moan escaping her as Stark's lips started to move down her neck. Her head tilted back with a pleased little sigh, hands on the back of his head, fingers brushing in slow circles to encourage him to really take his time with it.

After all, thorough as they'd been, maybe he still had missed some last night.

Stark would be thrilled to take his time. He did like to be thorough and he was still in disbelief that this was happening still (again?).

"More?" he asked softly. That moan had been encouraging and the feeling of her fingers on the back of his head made him want to make sure it stayed within her reach. But there was plenty of skin to be kissed and explored and tasted. He even, tentatively, bit down on her left shoulder where it met her neck. And not wanting to let her right side be left out he let his hand slowly drift along her rib cage.

MHA #4, Sunday Morning

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