She skimmed a wave at him with the flat of her arm. “Oh, but I can request that you punish me.” With the flash of a grin, she added, “But I like your idea better,” and dropped under the water, aiming for his legs. Both hands wrapped around one leg, and she pulled.
He realized what she was planning just in time to take two hasty steps back, but not quickly enough to actually flee to safety. He made a startled, less than dignified noise as he was pulled off balance, which turned into a stream of bubbles once his head was underwater.
He stared at her underwater for a few seconds, before he popped back up to the surface. He resembled a drowned rat for a moment, hair plastered to his face, but then he slicked it back and merely looked like a rather soggy, rather miffed Tony Stark. ”Can you please not do that?” he asked, tone a bit distant.
The second she tasted the fear, she let go. Tony Stark was afraid? How did that even work? They looked at each other through the wavering water, and Summer started cursing herself. Fear, pain, anguish … every time, those emotions set off the bond early.
There had to be a way to stop that from happening. Gritting her teeth and surfacing, Summer blinked at him for a long moment. “That was a hell of a lot of fear,” she commented finally. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.” She tried to slow down her breathing, tried to get used to the faint sense of Stark in the back of her mind.
Rubbing at the back of her neck, she swore again under her breath and started slogging toward the side.