Summer breathed out a sigh of relief, that there was something going on in her living room and not that it was just her being an absolute fucking coward.
And then tensed right back up again because, ummm, something was going on in her living room. And were she not so focused on following through on her promise to have A Talk with Stark, she might have been able to piece a few things together, but, in that moment, she was just going through all the possibilities except for the obvious one if she just considered the fucking calander.
"It..." She shook her head a little. "Probably just Pancakes. If it's late, she probably just wants to be fe--"
The rest of that thought was cut off with a very distinct yowl and hiss from Pancakes, and, just like that, Summer was bolding out of her bed, first grabbing her little plasma pistol from her bedside drawer and then reaching for the robe hanging from the back of her door and tossing it on before charging through the door while charging up the gun--
"You touch the fucking cat, you di--"
Pancakes hissed again and went tearing through under Summer's legs to escape into the bedroom and Summer found herself pointing a gun at two wide red headed children who winced slightly and then bit their lip as they looked up innocently at her. One of them, a boy with a ridiculous amount of curly red hair, lifted up a hand almost sheepishly and said, "Hi, Mom."
Summer groaned, rolling her eyes and lowering her gun (and turning the safety back on) and then remembered what fucking day it was.
"Fuuuuuuck me," she sighed. "Fuck prom."
And she looked at these ginger-ass kids who weren't helping her at all with trying to figure out what stupid parentage she was dealing with this time, and shook her head, calling back to the bedroom, "Stark! If you come out here, please make sure you're wearing pants. I've got kids."
Which, apparently, was hilarious to the kids, who set off laughing, and joining in mockingly.
"Yeah, Dad! Put on pants!"
"Yeah, Dad, pants! Don't be gross!"
There was...a loooooooooooooong pause, and Summer was half tempted to flip the safety back off her pistol and direct it toward her own goddamn head.
"Fuck."
Yeah. Nope. No. She deserved this. This was definitely karma. She literally could not be mad at anyone but herself for this whopper of a plot twist that, really, she should have seen coming from a mile away...
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And then tensed right back up again because, ummm, something was going on in her living room. And were she not so focused on following through on her promise to have A Talk with Stark, she might have been able to piece a few things together, but, in that moment, she was just going through all the possibilities except for the obvious one if she just considered the fucking calander.
"It..." She shook her head a little. "Probably just Pancakes. If it's late, she probably just wants to be fe--"
The rest of that thought was cut off with a very distinct yowl and hiss from Pancakes, and, just like that, Summer was bolding out of her bed, first grabbing her little plasma pistol from her bedside drawer and then reaching for the robe hanging from the back of her door and tossing it on before charging through the door while charging up the gun--
"You touch the fucking cat, you di--"
Pancakes hissed again and went tearing through under Summer's legs to escape into the bedroom and Summer found herself pointing a gun at two wide red headed children who winced slightly and then bit their lip as they looked up innocently at her. One of them, a boy with a ridiculous amount of curly red hair, lifted up a hand almost sheepishly and said, "Hi, Mom."
Summer groaned, rolling her eyes and lowering her gun (and turning the safety back on) and then remembered what fucking day it was.
"Fuuuuuuck me," she sighed. "Fuck prom."
And she looked at these ginger-ass kids who weren't helping her at all with trying to figure out what stupid parentage she was dealing with this time, and shook her head, calling back to the bedroom, "Stark! If you come out here, please make sure you're wearing pants. I've got kids."
Which, apparently, was hilarious to the kids, who set off laughing, and joining in mockingly.
"Yeah, Dad! Put on pants!"
"Yeah, Dad, pants! Don't be gross!"
There was...a loooooooooooooong pause, and Summer was half tempted to flip the safety back off her pistol and direct it toward her own goddamn head.
"Fuck."
Yeah. Nope. No. She deserved this. This was definitely karma. She literally could not be mad at anyone but herself for this whopper of a plot twist that, really, she should have seen coming from a mile away...