revivalproject | Trimming

Entry tags:

Trimming

WHO: Everyone! It's a mingle, get into it, bring your own winter traditions
WHERE: The diner
WHAT: A little winter celebration
WHEN: The solstice/end of the year
WARNINGS: Mark it if you get weird. I assume we're all a little busy, so if you want to use this to handwave some cordial introductions or a quick lore dump from Tony, just let me know.

There wasn't any official invitation or forewarning. In fact, Tony hadn't exactly planned to spend his day like this. Arriving at the diner, though, it would be difficult to ignore the acrid smell of burning, or the waft of coffee trying vainly to cover it. The scorched scent could have come from the brazier crackling outside of the diner door, spreading a ring of warmth that left a patch of the walkway cleared of snow, though the effect of that fire was more cozy, inviting anyone in the square near the fountain closer, with a sweet, woody smoke and an extra sharp, green scent from the lurid red and weirdly purple, piney boughs hung around the doorway. The burnt smell was stronger inside, anyway, clearly from a mishap in the kitchen, with another stack of those prickly branches on the diner counter not doing a convincing job of covering a black mark scorched into the surface. The rest of the room might have been distracting enough, though; red, white and pink glitter was dusted throughout the space, spreading from where it had been intended to be contained in clusters of flowers on tables, and colourful glass was hung from the ceiling in icicles or gathered into balls that all winked in the flicker of warm light. Where there weren't lumpy, grey-ish candles, hurriedly disguised with more glitter or brass bowls, there were small, woody shells like chestnuts dotted around the room, filled to teetering brim with a viscous sap that gave off a yellowish glow and left the whole diner shimmering.

Nestled in doorframes and above the counter where a spread of food that might be alluring to the particularly brave, were more lovingly crafted decorations: clusters of small, gold leaves in bouquets tied with red ribbons that chimed softly like bells if someone stood underneath them. The food on display did not give a great hint of what the disaster might have been. Rather, it was difficult to discern which dish would be the main culprit. There was a large bowl of a creamy, yellow liquid, with suspicious lumps and blackened flecks floating in it, with a stack of mismatched cups next to it for serving. The coffee pot next to it was probably safer. The foods that weren't cooked, per se, but sliced and piled onto plates were likely innocent, too, though it was entirely possible that some of those fruits should have been cooked to be edible. A tray of what kind of looked like pancakes looked trustworthy enough, assuming the worst of them didn't make it to the serving stage. In general, the decorations were clearly handled more competently.

The days had been dark and cold, and the diner was warm, bright, and ready to leave everyone full of dubiously edible cheer. If you stayed long enough, maybe Tony would even offer you one of those strange bundles he was fastidiously working on at a table, where an occasional crack sent a puff of smoke swirling up among the gently tinkling glass ornaments.

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Tony wasn't nearly as successful at looking surprised that this was the natural follow up question and not a calculation, the flash of his grin returning before he was bowing them deeper to purr, "Oh, is that all? I thought you were going to make this hard for me." He slid his hand down Jon's back so the swing back up onto his feet was already dramatic and threatened to snatch his breath away, and would leave him holding Tony's hand tightly for balance and at Tony's mercy as he carried that momentum to spin Jon around quickly as well. Jon could be a pretty good dance partner, as long as he trusted Tony. There wasn't much room in the little room for any further flare, so it might not have been much of a surprise that Jon ended up backed up against the door, but Tony had some important convincing to do and Jon wasn't given a chance to recover before he was getting his kiss. It was at half the tempo of their dance, and Tony coaxed him just as confidently with a tease of his tongue and warm press of his palm to Jon's cheek, bringing their still tangled hands back to rest against his shoulder once more. If someone came knocking on the door after this, it would probably be a much harder sell that Jon was just washing his hands.

Maybe the sudden movement shouldn't surprise Jon, yet he reacts with a short exclamation of delighted surprise that becomes a joyful laugh. A laugh that doesn't entirely end when Jon finds himself against the door and faced with Tony. Jon's laugh is a wide grim underlined with the remains of a lingering chuckle by the time Tony kisses him and Jon can finally kiss him back, his chuckle settling into a content little hum at the back of his throat.

The hand that isn't being held by Tony moves back around the man's neck where Jon's fingers play with Tony's hair while Jon breaks the kiss just about enough to nutter against Tony's lips. "Right. You're naughty. But you earned yourself a gift." He seals that decision by pressing his lips back against Tony's.

If Jon could still speak, he wasn't nearly as breathless as Tony was aiming for, but Tony wasn't going to argue with his generosity. Between the pillow of Jon's lips and tickle through Tony's hair, all of the sharp, teasing edges melted from Tony's smile and he poured himself as close as possible, his hand dropping down Jon's body lingering briefly in a clutching press over his heart before sweeping back around his waist to pull his hips away from the door and flush against Tony's. "You can admit it, I won't tell anyone. I'm irresistible," he rationalized lightly for both of them. Jon's reputation as a hardass simply couldn't weather Tony's charm.

Jon chuckles a little 'Hmph' against Tony's lips, not making any try to separate himself in the slightest. "Let's say I'm happy not having to resist something I crave for once." A lot in Jon's life has been either being held back or having to resist, especially during these past few years. Even here Jon still has to resist a lot of his urges and what he can only consider to be his natural instincts as the physical manifestation of an eldritch force. To underline his point, Jon runs his fingernails across the back of Tony's neck while pressing a small kiss to his lips before adding: "Also you said it yourself: This is supposed to be our anniversary."

There was the smallest pinch of concern, a flex of Tony's fingers around Jon's hand, for this admission that felt too familiar to Tony; for the flare of anxiety that Jon might discover how often Tony still resisted, and for the suggestion that Jon might have known that anguish. Tony could at least do his best to ensure the latter never happened again, and assure Jon that any craving would be enthusiastically indulged so there was no reason to train himself out of it with denial. After all, the surprised yelps and frustrated grumbling that Tony delighted in drawing out of Jon didn't even compare to that giddy laugh, and Tony was already planning on making it Christmas again tomorrow if that meant another taste of it. Indulging him wouldn't be a hardship.

Was he just rationalizing for himself, so he could sigh into Jon's kiss with a shiver tingling down his spine from that tickle across his neck without too much guilt?

"Oh!" Jon's reminder shocked that hot, pooling infatuation in his chest into a cold rod of steel that tensed his shoulders back and snapped his head up. "Your gift!" His impulse had Jon pulled away from the door and out into the hall before Tony had even considered how obvious their kiss-bitten lips might have been, and he had to juggle corralling Jon carefully past the kitchen again with one hand and a hurried recomposition with the other, smoothing his clothes and combing his hair back and looking shockingly poised by the time they made it back out into the dining room. "After all of this, it doesn't seem like much..." he admitted as he dug the slim, rectangular package out of his pile still waiting on the table they had left, wrapped in the pulpy, glitter studded paper that had since become his Christmas crackers. "Imagine I just handed it to you, without all of the other stuff," he suggested, because it had definitely felt like a better idea when he first replicated it. It wasn't often that anyone was enjoying a bar of chocolate after the apocalypse.

Remembering the gift results in a rather abrupt change of pace, mood and scenery, but it's very much on brand with Tony's impulsiveness which leaves Jon unable to feel upset as he lets himself be guided wherever Tony needs him to be. Also he really wants to know what this gift is Tony has for him without simply knowing it. Another area where Jon is schooling himself in restraint. What he refuses to hold back is his own wide grin as he catches Tony's quick preening on the way, making himself presentable. Maybe he could try to be more presentable himself. At least for Tony, who has come to know all of Jon's scars so intimately already. He had said he liked him wearing that suit...

They reach the table before Jon can conclude his own thoughts, but his curiosity perks up again once he is handed the small gift. Unwrapping it reveals it to be the gift of a rare treat, now resting in his hands. A comfort he has taken away from his own Earth when he spoke the words that ended it. But he fixed that. Chocolate, tea, regular time and measurable physics, he brought those back.

Jon believes that.

So after a moment of contemplative silence, Jon moves his memories further back, further than the end of his Earth. Better times that now don't feel like they were that long ago. He casts a smile up at Tony. "I remember the last time we had chocolate together." On Coruscant. Jon's smile widens. "It was a bloody mess."

That must have been a lifetime ago for Jon, and a whole dimensions' worth of Encyclopedias taking up all of the room in his head. While their quest through the candies was the reason Tony knew Jon would appreciate some chocolate, he looked briefly surprised that Jon mentioned it, muttering, "Real chocolate this time, cocoa and everything." Jon didn't look too hung up on the part where Tony ruined his perfectly thoughtful date, though, and incrementally Tony reflected his smile back, at first in soft fondness, and gradually twisting sharper with a warning flash of a fang. While his hands kept their fluttering before him, he leaned close enough that the warmth of his shoulder was against Jon's as he replied, "It would be my pleasure take that mess again. Three or four times at least. Wherever you want to put it," his voice incredibly light and only a quick point of his finger to admit what he meant.

The promise of real chocolate earns Tony a little, soundless 'Oh.' from Jon, paired a glance down at the gift. If Jon was honest with himself, he had over planned that date anyway and the way it ended up turning out has been very memorable in only the best ways. Including the very much necessary shower after said mess.

Tony's words and the little gesture that follows has Jon tip his head a little and lift a single brow. "The chocolate stays out of the bed." He decides in a firm, yet warm tone while taking one of Tony's hands in his own to press a kiss against it in approval of any chocolate-free messes.

Tony gave a small pout at this restriction, like he really might have been disappointed that he hadn't gotten this gift for himself, though he did make a concerted effort to keep himself more still as Jon took his hand. Brief, but an effort. "Right, the chocolate--of course not," he graciously conceded, as though this was a loss at all, his wry smile returning to pinch Jon's chin for the kiss. "I won't have it in me to clean you up this time, anyway. Your cat already made enough of a mess for me for one day," he accused with a toss of his head back toward the lingering trouble, definitely the only mess Tony was responsible for in the diner.

Jon glances up to meet Tony's eye with a little smirk of his own. "We both know you would enjoy cleaning me up." He states, then glances over to the still present mess of broken glass pieces. Right, they still need to clean that one up, don't they. "If we get the broom, this is a matter of five minutes." He notes, still keeping Tony's hands in his own and pursing his lips in thought for a moment. "Yes. That might be the best solution. I- Could try something different. But that wouldn't quite suit the mood you set here."

Only the threat of the broom stopped Tony in his hungry pursuit, the wicked grin and lean in toward Jon like he intended to bowl him over right then for any cleaning halted entirely for Tony to instead look dolefully toward the kitchen. An alternative would be welcome, really, only Tony did not expect Jon to skew the practicality of just doing the work. The breadth of Jon's talents tended toward the creepy, distinctly away from cheery lights, so the matter of the mood was not in question. Just what cryptic talent he had in his arsenal that could be applied to some broken glass was more mysterious. "I'm always open to try new things," he prompted, some wariness evident in the lift of his eyebrow.

There is a long moment in which Jon studies Tony and the face the man gives him. The moment passes with Jon chuckling softly, shaking his head while giving Tony's hand another reassuring squeeze. "Looks like we're at a stalemate. You worry about me heading into the kitchen to fetch the broom, I worry to scare you by using my powers. Neither of us wishes for either option to ruin this anniversary." Jon pauses to look thoughtful for a moment before offering. "Realistically, there will be even more to clean up tomorrow anyway." He lets that trail off with a casual wave of his hand still holding the bar of chocolate towards the diner's door. An invitation extended to Tony to escape any current cleaning duties. At least for the time being.

Tony didn't look entirely convinced by Jon's stalemate assessment, more than willing to cut a hefty cheque to solve any housework problem, though that did make Jon's reluctance to share his 'solution' all the more unsettling. He didn't expect Jon to be just as willing to put it off, looking briefly sure he must not have understood him correctly, which was the last second Jon had to prepare himself for the brunt of Tony's enthusiasm. They might not make it even to the door after the way Tony brightened and poured himself against Jon again, free hand curling under his chin to draw him into a kiss, the other flexing in Jon's hold in a clear struggle against his restlessness to reveal more of Jon's skin to his impatient fingers. Only, Jon wasn't the only one cursed with curiosity, and while Tony wasn't quite willing to give up any closeness he had stolen, he asked against Jon's lips, "But how does a fear god handle a mess?"

Jon lets go of Tony's restless hand so he can reach up and wrap his arm around Tony's neck again and return the kiss for the duration of it and remaining as unwilling to pull back as his partner even when Tony asks about his methods. "What do you think." He says, pressing another kiss to Tony's lips and himself further into the warmth of his body. "How about you convince me to tell you?" Another kiss. "I hear there are free rooms over at the hotel."

The best guess that Tony had was that Jon intended to scare the mess away, which had him rolling his eyes to the ceiling then narrowing them in dubious contemplation. That didn't sound right. Luckily, he was saved from proposing this out loud, otherwise occupied while his freed hand let him sneak chilly fingers up the back of Jon's shirt. The hotel sounded just as excruciatingly far at the moment as the library, but despite Tony's impatient hum, the proposal did sound kind of anniversary-appropriate. "Is that a separate convincing than the one I already worked so hard for a second ago?" he asked as he reluctantly eased away, keeping a finger hooked over Jon's waistband where he could keep his knuckles pressed to his skin. "You're wearing me out. It's my anniversary, you know." They were going to need some of these candles, obviously. And maybe a mistletoe.

Tony's little hum is answered with a matching "Hmm." from Jon's side, which at least in part is also a reaction to Tony's surprisingly cold fingers and the goosebumps they leave on Jon's skin. "I wasn't planning on keeping a checklist at hand, but if having a quota of goals to meet is what you want..." He says with a raised brow and a teasing smirk on his face. "I'm certain we can come to an agreement." Or they simply do as the mothcat has done and flee the scene before someone else arrives and they have to stay and socialize.

Now Jon must have been being deliberately vague. He needed convincing, there could be goals, he couldn't share the 'best solution'...Tony narrowed his eyes at him, trying to work out where the equation had even begun. With a bunch of candles and ribbon and glitter spilling out of the scoop of one arm, he tugged Jon closer again with the hold he had at his waist, like Tony might be able to smell the solution on him under close enough scrutiny. "The quota is really up to you, boss, I can give you as many goals as you can handle before you tap out," he decided to interpret. That would make for a pretty straightforward checklist. More of a tally.

Being briefly distracted by the candles and glitter, Jon makes a soft noise of surprise at being pulled closer again, only to get flustered by Tony's words. "Th-that's a bold statement." He coughs, then breaks into a flustered chuckle at that not very subtle mental image Tony just painted. "Not necessarily what I meant, but-" He shrugs lightly and lets his hand drop to the small of Tony's back to massage idle little circles of affection around his spine. "Just- Let's go. Preferably before that little bathroom becomes the only viable option for some privacy."

"Plenty more where that came from," Tony muttered, eyes bright with delight at Jon's stumbling and leaned closer to feel the warmth of Jon's flush and kiss his bold promises against Jon's temple. Conversely, Jon left him hanging again on that but-, his breath already coming quickly with the press into the dip of his back, and all heaved out in an impatient huff into Jon's hair that might as well have been Tony groaning 'fine'. That little bathroom really wasn't sounding all that bad to him.

The bracing cold once they left the security of the diner and the inviting warmth of his fire burning outside the door shocked all of that heat out of Tony once again, and when he leaned into Jon this time it was to wrap an arm around him against the chill, rubbing it out of his shoulder and cupping a pocket of warmth over his ear until they could get back indoors. The hotel was generally not very familiar to Tony, he wasn't being invited around by anyone who spent their time there, so he scrutinized the rarely visited lobby with a pout and thoughtful grumble. Maybe he should have set up his celebration in here in the first place, the effect might have been more grand and it wouldn't smell like his mistakes in the kitchen. "You're right about everything," he accused vaguely.

With neither of them truly being dressed for this weather, the cold offers enough of a reason to stick close to Tony to share what body heat there is. He doesn't mind losing some of that steam, knowing full well it's not lost for good by any means.

To Jon, the hotel is somewhat more familiar. With it being in the center of the city and practically right across the library, he has visited the place a few times, if only out of curiosity. He knows which rooms are unoccupied and in a decent enough state to allow for some comfort. He is already leading Tony over to grab one of the keys, looking up at Tony at the man's words to offer an apologetic smile. "I wouldn't say everything. But I tend to be right about simple facts that don't necessarily involve invading another person's privacy." He tries to respect certain boundaries at least. There are already a few people that don't trust him. He picks a key and points to a nearby door. "One up, then left down the hall."

The lobby had warranted some quick investigating, Tony's nose in the air as he glanced around, but he let Jon catch up to him at the foot of the stairs to offer him a hand through the steep climb. It might have been admitting too much to ask Jon how he stopped himself from Knowing those invasive details--right now, Tony could Know exactly how cold Jon was, what tight muscles were giving him pain, the last time he had eaten, who else had been holding his hand. Tony did not have Jon's moral fortitude. Instead, he tried to phrase it as a problem of mechanics; "If you gave me a complex equation right now, boss," he started, "I wouldn't already have the number locked and loaded in my head, and maybe I'd keep that saucy solution to myself, but I'll definitely do the math and know the answer." It wasn't like he could just stop himself from thinking. That was what the whisky was for.

"If you are in a store and accidentally walk into another person currently trying on a piece of clothes they consider to buy, you can do the decent thing and decide to look away and leave." Jon answers with a little shrug as they climb the stairs. "You can, indeed, think about it, but you don't have to stay, stare and comment. Those are decisions you can make for yourself. Just as you can decide not to eat a tempting, fresh chocolate cake sitting right in front of you. Your actions and decisions remain your own." As well as the responsibility for them. Instinct is not something Jon wants to use as an excuse any longer. Especially not now that he has actual control over his powers.

"That's different," Tony argued, his attempt to reset the premise with a gesture twisting the hand cradling his decorations enough to send a ribbon unspooling down the hall after them. Not that it changed much how differently Tony thought he would personally handle that responsibility. He would still definitely be taking advantage of it, and avoiding telegraphic the fact, so Jon was still a much better person, probably. But he had to point out, "That's not never walking into the change room in the first place. The privacy has still been invaded, the person still feels violated, even if you apologize." The cake analogy made more sense for what Tony thought they were talking about, so maybe there was more nuance in it that he was still not fully understanding. Right now, though, what he heard was, "So, you do know." Jon just didn't tell people he knew.

"I know more than I necessarily want to know, that is true." Jon agrees, but then pauses for a moment. "Actually, that's not entirely correct. I do want to know all these things. But I know I don't need to know them." He wants to eat the cake, but is aware that it won't do him well on the long run. He gives a squeeze to Tony's hand again and offers a smile. "I do my best to stay out of your changing room, please know that."

That was more familiar territory, though while Tony could understand well how he definitely wanted and absolutely didn't need a drink, he wasn't entirely convinced that knowing everything, if he could just do that innately, wasn't a need. He spent a lot of time and money trying to fabricate that talent. He looked doubtful, and muttered, "Don't you?," especially when it came to understanding the pressure points and fuel of the multiversal community they had to quickly figure out to survive here. Tony would be willing to break a few hearts, including his own, if it meant getting more control of that situation.

The smile was a relief, and easy enough to return before Tony's broke into a fangy smirk that was not well hidden as Tony brought Jon's knuckles to his lips. "You're welcome to know that part, please, I can suggest a few poses if you need the help," he encouraged. That was much safer to tease about because, okay, admittedly, he would rather be exempt from the need-to-know rationalization he was telling himself.

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