defenderofdesmoines | MHA #4 | Friday Afternoon

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MHA #4 | Friday Afternoon

You know, normally, when Annie had been thrown through something on the interdimensional fuckery scale like she had the past ten days (holy shit, it had not felt like that long), Summer would be her first stop just to try to make a little sense of what she'd been through with someone who got it.

But now that Annie had caught up on how much time had actually passed, and how much she'd missed, her own various issues were firmly in the backseat when she ventured across the hall with a pair of ice cream pints in a bag over one arm. She'd not only missed sangria night -- which was going to be a discussion they needed to have for multiple reasons -- but she'd missed sangria float night, which was supposed to be about Summer's breakup. Worst best friend ever, right here.

Hopefully Summer was around for a raincheck. Or the closest Annie's non-sangria-consuming self could come to one, anyway. So! Knocking, knocking -- chipper, perky, annoying-to-a-hungover-person, Annie-style knocking, la la la.

[for she whose apartment it is! and omg baby stuff is still NFB here!]

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Yeah, no, that knocking definitely launched you almost directly into supervillain status, Annie, in Summer's never so humble opinion, but you actually did have pretty decent timing. If you'd have just been a few hours earlier, you'd have missed Summer entirely, as she would have still been out in space somewhere, trying to blearily remember exactly where in space she actually was, which was, really, the true hallmark of a successful space-party venture. And as soon as she got home, she groggily fed her cat, contemplated a shower, and decided she'd get it right after a quick nap on her couch (damn, Stark was right, her couch was comfortable) before then proceeding to initiate her plan to cure (okay, okay, postpone) her current hangover with more booze.

She didn't get much sleep in before that knocking pulled her out of it, though she'd gotten enough that she'd almost wondered if she'd slept so long that it was late enough for Stark to swing by for their sangria night. Groaning, she reached for her phone and squinted at it to reveal that it was still pretty early. Way too early, and she gave another disgruntled groan before pulling herself up off the couch and headed to the door, ready to yank it open and yell at him for apparently not knowing what a clock was.

"Seriously, why are you--ohmygod, Annie!" She blinked for a moment as her brain entirely shifted gears, and then she was launching herself at her for a hug. "You're back!"

"I'm back!" Annie agreed, preempted by a little, 'Oof' at that launched hug before she was wrapping her free arm up around Summer in grateful return. "We got back last night. Did I wake you up? Sorry! But we're back and all in one piece."

A beat. "Mostly!" Even Annie had lost something along the way. Hope you wanted to go get a bunch of stuff pierced sometime, Summer.

It really was mildly criminal that the only piercing Summer did have were in her ears.

But excuse her a moment as, after a big extra squeeze, Summer drew away from the hug to step back enough to give Annie a quick once-over to see if any of those apparently missing pieces were immediately noticeable at first glance. But seeing all of her limbs presumably still perfectly attached in the natural way, she reached a hand out for Annie's to pull her into the apartment.

"You have to tell me all about it," she insisted. "And was I right? Was it another apocalypse again? Please tell me it wasn't another apocalypse again. Also, your timing could not be more perfect. I mean, yes, you did wake me up, so it could have been a little more perfect, but I literally already have some sangria ready to go in my fridge right now."

Sorry, Stark. There was a sangria hierarchy.

"Oh, shit," she then realized, having long since dropped Annie's hand once she was in and pulling out her phone, "I gotta text someone real quick, hold on."

Sorry x 2, Stark. There was definitely a disappearing bestie hierarchy, too.

Edited 2023-03-10 14:17 (UTC)

Annie was more than willing to be pulled into this apartment, and also, like, legit, Summer? Summer, you just woke up and you were like this already? Could Annie...like, bottle this? Was Summer-energy pregnancy-safe? Because Annie had been awake for hours and you know what decaf did? Fuck-all.

"Okay, first of all -- yes, it was another apocalypse, but it was a different kind this time," Annie shared. "A German one."

No, Annie, it was just a German word. It didn't, like, come from Germany.

"And like -- actually, I brought ice cream?" she added, her smile turning a little...nervous, weirdly? as she held up her bag. "I mean, you can still totally have sangria if you want -- I have Cherry Garcia and Phish Food, and I bet either one of those would profile just fine with wine and fruit, flavor-wise?"

Just...sliding past the fact that Annie, herself, could not have sangria, which was definitely not interesting or noteworthy.

Okay, yeah, decaf was shit and an abomination, but Summer was running on oh thank god I don't actually have to start worrying about potential dimension-hopping rescue missions any time soon fuel right now. The sheer amount of energy she'd spent pretending she wasn't internally flailing about Annie's situation, among everything else she was dealing with right now, could power a small European nation.

"Ohmygod," a soft moan may have escaped her a little bit there, "ice cream sounds so fucking good right now. Well, maybe not the Cherry Garcia, but that..." She shook her head, waved a dismissive hand, "that's a whole thing, but I could absolutely demolish that Phish Food. Lemme grab some spoons and some glasses, and, ohmygod, does a German apocalypse mean, like, you were in Germany? Was it some try-hard Conservative wet dream alternate history where the Nazis won? Did you have to survive on nothing but canned sauerkraut and Vienna sausages?"

Vienna was in Austria, Summer, but okay.

Edited 2023-03-10 14:47 (UTC)

Annie was just going to take the ice cream over to the couch, quietly wondering whether Summer had issues she didn't know about with the Grateful Dead (perhaps Grampa Rick knew where Jerry actually was!), and tried to think of where to start here, aside from telling Summer that her guesses were wrong. Charming and kind of fun-sounding (though, as with most food, Annie needed to not let her mind linger there just now), but wrong.

"Nah, we were just in Diego's hometown," she explained. "But like, here's the deal -- remember when we went back to the '60s? So during all of that, we met with their dad, who was just kind of some evil dude living in 1963, and apparently we all made such a bad impression that when 1989 rolled around, he adopted entirely different superpowered kids. Well -- except one. Ben was still there? Dead Ben? Because he didn't meet our Ben."

Totally easy to follow, right?

"So apparently when you exist in a universe where you aren't supposed to -- because also, this different guy killed Diego's and everyone's biological moms, and they were never even born -- you create this fucked up paradoxy thing called a kugelblitz."

There's your German!

Annie was not at all wrong in assuming her aversion to Cherry Garcia had everything to do her her grampa, and, of course, the real reason was way weirder than anything she could have imagined it would be.

While in the kitchen, Summer took a brief moment to answer Stark's responding text while listening, because she was very good at multitasking, thank you. She even somehow managed to balance the spoons, glasses, and a pitcher from the fridge on her way back, and she was quick about it, so she caught most of that as she was sort of setting everything down.

She nodded with particular understanding at the whole dead sibling but not really OUR dead sibling thing, because, well...but...

"Oh, shit," she said, eyes a little wide (and a little bit of that hangover creeping up on her) as she started to pour some sangria into one of those glasses. "I don't even want to think about how many kugelblitz I've probably created..."

And as far as Rick was concerned, it was probably kugelblitz all the way down....

Edited 2023-03-10 15:10 (UTC)

Oh yeah. Kugelblitzes forever for the Sanchez-Smith household, probably. Though was it better to accidentally create a paradoxical universe-swallowing black hole thing, or have to kill your other selves so that you could live in a universe where everyone isn't a giant Cronenberg monster?

"Probably a lot?" Annie offered, wincing slightly. "But at least you can get out of there quick before it sneaks up on you -- our briefcase broke, so we were stuck there, and like, a kugelblitz's deal is that it apparently swallows up everything. So we ended up like, trying to stop it with the other new Hargreeves, that didn't work, Luther married one of them, then Diego's dad had this, like, Hail Mary plan at the end, but of course it was mostly double-crossing bullshit, and Allison ended up resetting the universe."

And on that note, she glanced at this poured sangria, and actually had to commit. "None for me," she noted, reaching for a spoon and using it to point to the pitcher apologetically.

Just for. Like. Reasons.

And don't even get her started on the possibility of using other dimensional versions of yourself as decoys against being killed by your other selves or even joining up with other versions of yourself to create a whole army of Go-Tron mechs just to take down some cocky anime bastards...

And here Summer was, glass already moving Annie's way, already to agree that sometimes, really, a new universe reset really was the best option, when that refusal hit and she just sort of blinked at Annie.

"I mean, I know it's early," she said, "but...it's sangria. You come back from an apocalypse, Annie, you definitely get to have sangria."

Annie just shook her head, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Yeah, but I kind of got some other news during all of this, too. I can't have sangria for...oh, about nine months, Summer."

Unrelated to all of this kugelblitz bullshit aside from, like, this dramatic baby (babies?) having the best timing ever as far as making themselves known.

"Damn, Annie," said Summer, blinking at her for a moment more, "way to bury the fucking lede."

But, with that news, Summer was absolutely setting aside that glass of sangria in her hand (okay, okay, after taking a pretty big sip, because she'd been looking forward to sangria and also more alcohol because that initial excitement of Annie not being dead or lost to the multiverse was wearing off and letting some of that hangover creep back in to remind Summer that it was still very much there, thank you) so that she could have both hands free because, dammit, that was so getting another hug.

"Ohmygod, congratulations, are you serious?"

And it was funny, too, knowing that, if the roles were reversed, this would be an entirely different conversation and mood, but Summer knew Annie and Summer knew that this had got to be huge for her.

"When did you find out?"

Yeah, this was an intentional, wanted pregnancy, so Annie was thrilled. (Though yes, if the roles were reversed, she would also so be here for that, too.)

"I'm super-serious," Annie told her, actually laughing a little as she gave Summer a squeeze. "Diego's dad told me, like, the second day we were there. Apparently he's an alien or something? The other Hargreeves kidnapped me and Luther, and I was all pukey while we were there, and -- surprise, turns out it's a baby and not just how time travel always makes me sick."

She pulled back just a little, apologetic. "So -- no sangria. No jello shots. Dude, do you know how much decaf coffee sucks?"

"Oh, you poor, poor thing," said Summer, with emphasis, because ohgod, pregnancy sounded terrible, and please let her only have hypothetical fake babies temporarily forever...or at least until she was, like, thirty or something and therefore probably too boring to enjoy all that stuff anyway. Her hands lingered comfortingly on Annie's shoulders with a little pat and an apologetic smile before releasing them to regain her glass.

"I am definitely still drinking, though, I'm sorry, but I am super hung over right now, so it's either this or I go swallow a whole bottle of ibuprofen just to survive."

"Yeah, so on that note -- how are you?" Annie asked, reaching for her spoon and offering up a little prayer of thanks that ice cream, thus far, was not making her vom. (Though she had very consciously chosen flavors that had no peanut butter in sight.) "Other than hungover, I mean, and do whatever you have to there. I feel so bad I dipped on you for so long, I'm so sorry, it was not that long on my end, but like -- babies, apocalypse, whatever, that shit'll be there. How are you doing?"

Annie hadn't just brought ice cream because she couldn't have sangria -- she'd brought it because it was, still, often, the chosen Food of the Broken-Hearted.

Mid-gulp, Summer just waved a dismissive hand at Annie. "You had an apocalypse," she said. "It happens."

Another sip, and Summer took a moment to figure out the best way to juggle both wine and ice cream, while also deciding how she wanted to answer that question.

"And I'm....fine," she concluded. "I'm okay. It's....definitely still a process, but it's....fine."

"Time got stupid for me -- it's been...three weeks? Two?" Annie tried, squinting a little as she thought. "Have you talked to him?"

Annie kind of wanted to go give Barry a piece or two of her mind, herself, but it was both not really her place, and she was also pretty sure she needed to limit her portal travel. Maybe? None of the resources she'd read last night said anything about it, so....

"Time's felt pretty stupid for me lately, too," Summer admitted with a snort, "but, yeah, that sounds about right..."

She paused then, in part to focus on tucking up a leg and cradling the ice cream in the crook of it so she could hold it without having to set down her wine, and just sort of keep her attention on digging in a spoon as she shrugged, delaying answering that other part.

"And we still text a little," she admitted, feeling kind of like this was a huge failure on her part and ready for Annie to pass righteous judgement on her for it, even though she knew she wouldn't.

Well, not about that part. This next part, though?

"I'm still using his credit cards and I had to at least warn him that I wasn't dead or vanished when I took off the tracker."

And she lifted her one wrist that felt impossibly naked now without the slim little black wristband that had been there for years now and all of a sudden just...wasn't.

Except for the hell of a tanline still there like a ghost, even on Summer's already pretty pale skin.

"Oh, Summer," Annie murmured, knowing what a big step taking off that tracker must have felt like. "That must have made it feel so -- final."

She shifted her ice cream around a little so she could carefully slip an arm around Summer's shoulders. See, with balancing, they could just keep half-hugging for a minute and consume various sugars-slash-alcohols.

"Did he say it's okay for you to keep using his cards?" she asked, carefully keeping judgement out of her voice. Barry wasn't the only millionaire Summer knew, after all, and Annie didn't even have the expense of an off-island house lease to keep up with now, so. She could pick up some slack there, if needed.

"He didn't say it's not okay," said Summer, leaning into that offered arm with a sigh and an expertly scooped bite of ice cream. "And he definitely knows I'm still using them."

Which meant they'd politely avoided talking about, and they'd both been sort of doing the same thing, where they both understood that this really was the best thing for them, but neither of them were fully ready to just let go quite yet.

"I know it's bad," she added, "and totally goes against my whole fierce independent girlboss persona, but, you know, you kind of get used to a certain lifestyle, I just kind of need to slowly ween myself off of it."

A pause.

A hitch of a sound suspiciously like a sob that she was about to bury in a gulp of wine.

"Oh god," she said, "Ween."

Not even her vocabulary was safe.

His first name was liable to come up from time to time, too. At least, in homophone form.

"Okay, we need to watch for that," Annie said soothingly, her own heart kind of breaking on that little sob-like noise. "But it's all such a big change. I mean, even if he wasn't around recently -- you guys had some shared financial stuff, he's all over your ship, your portal gun...."

God, even the word fuck probably brought things up. If Annie had to associate a single word with Barry, after all, it was that one.

Annie just kind of trailed off before offering, "Like, it's a lot to get used to. Not just the lifestyle part, though that's part of it too. This is so hard, Summer. It sucks."

Summer was prepared for the occasional berry or bury. No one was ready for an unsolicited ween.

"God, Annie, it's the worst," she agreed emphatically. "I hate it. I swear, I'm never getting into a long-term relationship ever again, it's so not worth it. One-night stands, week-long flings, one, maybe two months, tops.

"You and Diego are so fucking lucky," she added with a wistful sigh. "You two really are fucking ride or die. I thought that was me and Barry, too, at the beginning, but it was really more 'ride until hyperfixation,' I guess."

"Sometimes things just...burn out," Annie offered softly. "And just because this did, with Barry, it doesn't mean you won't find your actual ride-or-die."

And, honestly, she was kind of hoping to put a lot less die in things going forward, personally. Romantic though it was that she and Diego had literally put that phrase into practice multiple times.

"Though I fully support taking a break from the longterm thing, like, right now." Probably for awhile, actually! Summer would know when and if it was ever the right time to walk back that declaration, Annie knew.

"Just do me a favor," said Summer, with a wave of an ice cream-laden spoon, "and promise you'll stop me if I ever get so pathetic that I actually start considering Leroy."

Yeah, she knew you were listening to all of this right now, you creepy little fucker.

"He's a squirrel," Annie reminded her helpfully. "I don't even know how that would work."

There was someone Annie was curious about, considering a conversation they'd had a few weeks back, but she also wanted to tread carefully just in case Summer had gone there.

"Have there been any, like, actual person-rebounds, though?" she asked, giving Summer a playful little nudge.

Two and a half weeks would not be enough time for Annie, but Annie was Annie, and Summer was Summer.

Summer'd had a relationship with a spaceship. She could probably make it work.

She wouldn't want to, of course, but she could.

And it probably went without saying then, that Summer's response was also very Summer:

"Not nearly enough," she said, with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"You have, like, Tinder installed on your phone, right?" Annie checked. "I no longer have any bad-idea brothers-in-law in this universe, by the way. I mean, there's Five, but he's a million years old and missing an arm now."

Or very young, and missing an arm now. However you wanted to slice it (bah-dum-tss), he was not ideal casual hookup material. (Also, gross.)

"Annie," said Summer, with a look and a tone that suggested it was a good thing she loved her so much, otherwise she might need to be offended that she would have even suggested she didn't, "of course I do. I've been on it practically all week.

"But I was just thinking about asking about Klaus," she admitted, "so good instincts there. That's a shame, though. We could have been, like, sisters."

No, you would have probably ushered in another apocalypse somehow, if Fate ever actually allowed such an unholy union to occur.

Or started another cult! That had always been Annie's worry about a team-up, there.

"We're already like sisters," Annie decided, actually being sincere about it even if it was an offhand little comment. "But yeah, he's a little more than a text away now. My list of offerings as far as this goes has shrunk...significantly."

How did you feel about, like, obsessively-clean, burly divorced dads, Summer? MM seemed lonely, she could maybe see about making something work there.

You had her at burly.

"I fucking knew you were going to say something like that, you fucking nerd," said Summer, with a snort, grinning as she lifted her glass in a salute, "but? Truth."

She finished up the last of what was in her glass and made a tenuous reach for the pitcher for more without disturbing her ice cream set-up too much.

"But enough about me and my sad, sad love life," she declared. "Tell me more about this baaaaaaabbbby. And did you say Five is missing an arm?"

Annie was totally on deck to help with that precarious setup, if anything started tipping. Like, never fear. It was her nerdy, faux-sisterly duty.

"Five is indeed missing an arm now. Diego was missing a few of his fingers for, like, a day, too," Annie confirmed. "And actually, it's kind of worse than that. Like, not for Five -- that's probably the worst thing for Five, but he's actually in pretty good spirits about it -- but everyone else lost their powers. Like, Diego got his fingers back, but he can't throw any better than me anymore. And they all lost their tattoos, and check it out." She reached up and tucked her hair behind her perfect, unpierced ear. "All part of the universe reset."

She dug into her ice cream with her spoon, letting that all sit for a second before adding, "Except the baby. The baby didn't reset. And it might be two babies."

"Two?" asked Summer, brows lifting. "Two babies? But, Jesus, Annie, how fucking awful would that have been? Good job, you two." Summer toasted generally toward Annie's torso. "Way to stand your ground.

"How's Diego handling all that, though? Not having his powers? Wait, do you still have your powers?"

"I still have mine, because mine come from Compound V, I think," Annie confirmed with a nod. "Five has his, but lost the arm because he wasn't there for the reset part. And Diego's...he says he's fine?"

Which meant nothing, really, except that Diego said he was fine, and Annie wasn't gonna push too hard.

"But he's really excited about being a dad, and I think that distraction is helping," she added optimistically. "Oh, God, there was some crazy-ass bullshit with that I have to tell you about, holy shit, you don't even know about Stanley -- but yeah, it might be twins, because that's who keeps showing up on those weird weekends with kids here, and then in that twenty-year future thing? Diego didn't have powers, I didn't work for Vought, Five didn't have an arm, and the twins were a thing."

Edited 2023-03-10 23:12 (UTC)

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MHA #4 | Friday Afternoon

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