stykera | MHA #8, Thursday Evening

Stark had suggested a celebration for Summer last night and Summer had latched on to the idea and so Stark had spent the better part of the day putting one together for her. He had a lot to live up to after the surprise he'd arranged for her birthday but this didn't have to be so elaborate. It just had to be something fun. And nice. And surprising. But there was no pressure. (Of course there was pressure. Stark nearly always felt pressure. It was just often internally provided)

Still, he'd gone out for ingredients to make dinner for a dinner recipe he was quite pleased to have found and it was nearly finished and hopefully just the right level of gross.

Dessert was totally finished and waiting to be served later, assuming dinner went well. He'd even gone out and purchased a bottle of something bubbly because that was the sort of thing you drank to celebrate.

Now he just hoped the guest of honor would show up when he expected her to. And, more importantly, that said guest of honor would enjoy her surprise.

[Expecting a certain gross ginger lady but also could be open before her!]

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Summer was about to argue that she'd just be going down to her place, she'd be right back, but something about that please don't leave yanked at her chest a little. "Yeah, right?" she asked. "Who needs glasses, anyway?"

And to punctuate the dismissiveness of the whole concept of such unnecessary drinking vessels, she shifted her hand to get a better hold on the the fork to pluck it out of Stark's hand so she could finally pop the chocolate-drizzle shrimp into her mouth, and....

It was...

...definitely chocolate and shrimp and she mostly failed at keeping her face neutral, but the expression she made wasn't necessarily a bad one, either, just sort of...we'll go with unsurprised, but now she was spearing another one onto the fork and then holding it up for Stark.

"Your turn."

Stark looked at the shrimp and leaned forward to bite it off the fork.

"It's...not very good," he said, pulling a face. "A little gross. Too cooked."

But he'd made it just for her!

"Dessert is better. And...sparkly wine."

Sparkling, sparkly. Close enough.

"Definitely not the grossest thing I've ever put in my mouth," Summer agreed, "but pretty far from the best thing, too. I think..."

Was she actually poking the fork back into the pan to stab another one and pop it into her mouth? Yes, yes, she was, and she was chewing it over thoughtfully, before she swallowed to offer her sage-like gross food wisdom.

"I'd add some chili flakes, or something. A little heat to balance the sweet, and why is there garlic?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question, because Summer had forked up another shrimp and was holding it out to Stark again, because, clearly, if she ate a second one, he had to, too.

"I hope dessert is better."

"I've put much grosser things in my mouth," Stark agreed. "And I didn't write the recipe I only cooked it!"

Yes, he was leaning forward to eat that second shrimp, still making a face.

"Dessert is much better. I promise. Not even a little gross. You should look."

"In the fridge," asked Summer, who, oh, look, had another shrimp on the fork and was holding it up to Stark again for him to have with a very sweet and innocent look on her face the whole time, "you said?"

Stark, who was committed to submitting to Summer's tyranny, obediently opened his mouth for another bite of shrimp.

"This does not get better," he said with a soft sigh. "But the cake will. In the fridge. With wine."

By the smile on her face, it was very clear that Summer was very approving of this dutiful submission.

"Oooh," she gushed. "It's cake?"

And now she was pulling away to finally bounce over to the fridge to have a look.

Stark did so love gaining approval. Especially from this source.

"Good surprise so far? It is cake," he confirmed, grinning widely and waiting for her to see for herself.

"Just for you."

And hopefully some for him. It would be rather tragic to only be allowed to eat slightly gross shrimp.

"Hopefully not just for me," said Summer, in an unwitting response to the narrative, with the addition of a cute little over the shoulder pose at the fridge door before throwing it open and having a look.

"Well, that'll make up for chocolate shrimp," she declared, throwing over an impressed look, before reaching in and pulling out the bottle and holding it up questioningly. "And for drinks?"

"For drinks," Stark said, nodding. "With...the wrong glasses." They were mismatched juice glasses he was reaching for. They'd been here when he moved in.

"Still a good surprise? It's strawberry. The cake. And chocolate. Not the wine. The wine isn't strawberry or chocolate but it has bubbles because that's good for celebrating."

And maybe for tyranny?

"Bubbles are good for celebrating," Summer agreed, handing the bottle over to Stark so that she could get the cake. "And so is cake. Not sold on the chocolate shrimp, but it could grow on me!"

"But the shrimp was a little gross," Stark said, smugly. "So it was a surprise."

He was so pleased with himself. Even if it meant he'd had to eat some of the shrimp. He even hummed a little as he opened the bottle to fill the glasses.

"I hope you like the cake. It sounded good. The frosting tasted good when I tried it. Do you want to sit at the table? The couch?"

Take the cake to bed and hope for the best?

"Your baking is always good, Stark," Summer pointed out. "And couch sounds good."

Even if it wasn't as good (and stain-resistant) as hers.

Stark beamed at her. "Thank you. I try. You know I try. And strawberry I thought was good because I know you like that."

And strawberries made him think of her.

"Couch then." He held out a glass to her. "I'll bring 2 slices? Unless you just want forks. It doesn't have to be neat."

Even if this couch was inferior to the one downstairs.

MHA #8, Thursday Evening

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