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MHA #4, Friday 5 PM. EXACTLY.
Stark had spent the day keeping busy. Not like that. He'd gone for a walk which had turned into a jog and then back into a walk. He'd gone to the store for the items requested yesterday. He'd gone for another walk. He'd taken a very, very long time getting ready to come down here. He'd showered, he'd considered shaving and decided against it eventually. He'd taken care to buff his mask and the buckles on it. He'd tried on and rejected several shirts to go with the requested blue suit. And finally, finally, he'd waited long enough and it was time to go downstairs.
He thought he looked good. He had flowers, chocolate, and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He'd waited until just before 5 to go down the stairs and now he was knocking on Summer's door feeling oddly nervous about it, and not just because he was awkwardly juggling all the things in his hands to have the ability to knock. This felt different. Maybe because it was this week, or the end of this week, or because he'd spent the better part of two days now not actively participating in this week, or maybe because there had been something of a shift in his worldview over those same days. Whatever the reason, or reasons, he was feeling jittery as he waited for a response.
[for she who lives in the apartment and posted early for drugged up probable SP and because I can't sleep]
He thought he looked good. He had flowers, chocolate, and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He'd waited until just before 5 to go down the stairs and now he was knocking on Summer's door feeling oddly nervous about it, and not just because he was awkwardly juggling all the things in his hands to have the ability to knock. This felt different. Maybe because it was this week, or the end of this week, or because he'd spent the better part of two days now not actively participating in this week, or maybe because there had been something of a shift in his worldview over those same days. Whatever the reason, or reasons, he was feeling jittery as he waited for a response.
[for she who lives in the apartment and posted early for drugged up probable SP and because I can't sleep]
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If she were a little more of a dick about it, she would have delayed her response just a little, too, but she figured she had that part covered by making him wait until five EXACTLY in the first first place. So the text message was prepped and ready and hit his phone almost immediately after he knocked.
come on in, the door's unlocked, i'm waiting in the bedroom, i know u know the way 😘
She did, briefly, actually think about going and answering the door, but once Stark got a look at what she was wearing, especially with the texts he'd been sending, she knew they wouldn't have made it more than two steps through the door.
So he'd have to make his way through the apartment and into her room instead, where he'd find her already comfortably lounged and enticingly positioned, her hair down and pooling around her shoulders, and she greeted him with a simple, "Hello, Stark."
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He almost fumbled the phone, hastily shoving it into a jacket pocket, and let himself in. He made very, very sure the door was locked behind him and then headed for the bedroom.
"Summer? I...."
Forgive him. This was new territory and needed a new reaction and not just the look of wide-eyed amazement and awe and hunger on his face.
"Hi."
Had he ever used that greeting before in his life? He couldn't remember. He didn't need to remember. He just needed to find somewhere to put the flowers and the chocolate and the whiskey that didn't involve the bottle shattering when he dropped it to the floor.
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She shifted again, this time pulling herself up from where she'd been so aesthetically positioned, taking a moment to stretch back languidly like a cat before crawling forward on her hands and knees to the edge of the bed, eying Stark before her eyes flitted over to what he'd brought.
"Are those my flowers?"
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Eventually he nodded. "Yes. Flowers! I brought you sunflowers because they're pretty? And happy. And the whiskey and the chocolate. And... me. I brought me and you... you're... hi."
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She lifted a hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear, then straightened up on her knees to use that same finger to beckon Stark closer.
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"What," he asked, mouth gone dry, "did you have in mind?"
The floor seemed like a fine place for everything he was carrying to be set down and he dropped it all unceremoniously before stepping to the edge of the bed.
Whatever she had in mind was fine with him. When she looked like that and sounded like that and it was all for him.
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"Blue really is a good color for you, you know," she told him, taking her time in working with one button, then a second, now the third...
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"I... is that new. It's... wonderful." And begging to be touched.
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"It is new," she confirmed with a nod, drawing back a little with a shoulder lifted to show it off a little more now that the jacket was taken care of. "I thought maybe you'd like it.
"What I had in mind for tonight is a little bit new, too," she said, and she pulled closer again, this time with her hands fumbling for his belt, though her eyes were very steadily on his. "...if you think you'd be interested..."
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"I'm always interested in what you want. You know that. And this, this new outfit, it's...I love it. I want to touch it. And you."
But he was still holding himself still. It seemed like the correct choice right now.
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Her head tilted back toward one of her bedside tables. "First, though," she said, "I'll need you to go open the second drawer down on the left side table, take a look, and let me know if there's anything else in there you might like."
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"Why would I want something from your drawer?" he asked but he was already moving in that direction. He toed off his shoes on the way. They were certainly only going to be a hindrance to whatever it was Summer had in mind.
Another quizzical look and he opened the drawer and paused and looked back at her.
"You have...oh...this...there's a lot. There's...oh." He was going to need a minute.
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And, eventually, "Told you I'd make it worth the wait. You can pick out anything you want from there. Maybe even two, since you've been so....y'know...good. And patient. But I know I've definitely got a good suggestion if you're having a hard time," heh, "choosing."
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"I'm not even sure what all of these are," he admitted, turning back to the contents of the drawer. He picked up one item, turned it over in his hands a few times, and set it back down.
"You...," he said, picking up another and looking back at her. "You'd...use it? On me?"
Summer, you were opening up a whole new world here.
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And look at that, Stark on his knees put him in the perfect position for Summer to just reach over and dance her fingers on the back of his neck and along the edges and buckles of the straps on his mask.
"I'd like to," she said. "What do you think, Stark?" Her fingers started drifting down his jawline, with a clear appreciation for the faint stubble there from him clearly not having shaved that day. "Will you let me frell you tonight?"
And to anyone who might think that all of this between them was just because Stark's devotion to her kept Summer's voracious ego fed, she would like to gesture, emphatically, to the fact that, yes, she actually did say that, without even a trace of irony and with a completely straight face.
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"Summer." There was a whole universe of meaning in her name when he said it that way. He leaned into her touch, pleased that the shaving decision had been the correct one, and then, unable to hold back any longer, turned and half-stodd so he could answer her with a kiss.
A kiss that conveyed as much meaning as saying her name had, even without the way his hands were ghosting over the edges of what she was wearing.