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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Well, Jon for his part didn't mind sleeping in that soft hammock. It also comes with its own set of memories.

He turns to face Tony when he notices the man move his way, then pause to put up his little improvised mistletoe, which puts a smile to Jon's face and he steps closer, very well willing to fulfill those expectations. "Very much the first time you commented on my backside." He points out with a smirk, then pauses to glance away thoughtfully for a moment. "I very much thought you were insufferable at first. Then you kept returning. First physically, then... heh. It gradually became harder not to think about you in your absence." Jon looks back at Tony first, then to the mistletoe above.

At first sounding intrigued, then sucking his teeth awkwardly around a smirk at himself, Tony muttered, "Did I do that that day?" It did sound like something he would do, he couldn't deny that, though maybe while Jon was stewing in resenting Tony he didn't need to hear Tony's commentary on his body. Tony did feel very much compelled to adore it now, anyway, especially while Jon was smiling at him and presumably not stewing in anything, so he concluded, "I've been slacking off lately, it is very precious, definitely should be handled with care." Whatever cringing he was doing less than a second ago had clearly not taught him anything, because he was obviously talking without really thinking as he leaned in to meet Jon as he looked up at the gold petals. Only the brief kissed he pressed against Jon's lips stopped him, and then not for long as he encouraged, "Come on, let's see," and let Jon think he was safe from Tony's probing him on what exactly he was thinking about this man who kept on showing up and irritating him. Like Tony could let that go.

The kiss is brief and sweet and warms Jon's cheeks and chest and puts a soft smile to his lips. The sensation lingers even as Tony pulls back to make his- Well. Request?

Jon raises a brow up at Tony and tips his head to the side, at least attempting to not let the fresh heat on his face have too much of an influence on his behavior. Though even he can't quite keep himself from briefly drawing his teeth across his lower lip. "You will have to unwrap it yourself, Tony." That's how presents work.

It was difficult to tell which one of them would be more frustrated if Tony didn't do what he was told, though for the moment the wicked thrill was definitely more alluring than the potential regret, and Tony's sly grin positively glimmered with this mistake Jon had made. It wasn't like Tony had to keep his hands to himself. He could shake the wrapped box as much as he wanted. He leaned in for another smiling kiss, nosing close to Jon's blush and chasing the flash of his teeth that drew all of Tony's attention to his mouth, and skimming both hands down his sides like there was a chance Tony might follow a direct instruction. Instead, they only alighted briefly on Jon's fly, then were nudging his hips to coax him to turn around, where Tony could hug him back against his chest and let his fingers do their restless wandering over Jon's clothes, safe from the full force of his powerful glare. Tony nuzzled into the warm crook of his neck where he could leave tickling kisses as he prompted, "Is that how you were thinking of me?" He ran his nails over Jon's shirt, drawing creases in the fabric as his hands dropped slowly down his body again and Tony suggested against the flutter of his pulse, "Hoping that sound upstairs was me inviting myself over again, only this time if you stayed at your desk maybe I'd slide under it, open you up, take you in my mouth..." His fingers traced over the seam of Jon's pants, contact teasing light.

It's anything but frustrating to Jon to be pulled against Tony and the warmth his body offers. He gives a small gasp at first, then, for a moment Jon allows himself to close his eyes and just take in Tony's scent and follow the movements of Tony's hands by letting their wandering, teasing touch send shivers through his body.

Tony's words draw Jon's attention to him and he raises a hand to tangle his fingers in Tony's hair, playing with it despite the colorful picture Tony presents his imagination only increasing the heat on his face and having him bite his lip again while glancing upwards. He lets out an audible exhale. "A-actually... I was rather certain all you wanted was to humiliate me." It's what most people used to entertain themselves with.

Jon's hesitant answer left Tony unsure if they were playing the same game. He could have assumed so, but that seemed like a big risk to lean into. He definitely wouldn't have the self-restraint to stop himself from Knowing. While he continued to dust kisses down the line of Jon's neck, his eyes fluttered open like he might be able to see better what Jon meant even from this angle, and he withdrew his teasing exploration to wrap a brief, reassuring hold around Jon's ribs, then curl one hand around Jon's raised bicep to put them on pause. "Do you want me to?" he asked. Jon had made it clear early on that he thought Tony was a bully, that wasn't new information.

"Christ, no!" Jon answers without hesitation, casting a quick glance at Tony, which may not be as effective as it would be without the current lack of any distance. "I have been humiliated enough in my life to know I hate it." He leans his head against Tony's with a sigh. "...I was glad to finally be able to defend myself." To finally have some degree of power in his own hands, regardless how sinister the source.

That was enough of a relief that Tony visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping and leaning more of his weight against Jon so they were balancing each other while Jon spoke and Tony could breathe a sigh of his own. He almost apologized, squirming with the guilt of putting Jon through something that he had evidently suffered enough, and yet not sure how sincere that apology would really be if a lot of the ways he did like to tease and provoke Jon were what Jon would call humiliating. Right now, it kind of felt to Tony like he spent most of his time doing that still, even if Jon wasn't accusing him of being a bully anymore. He drew his hands back still more slowly, not quite releasing Jon yet, fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt, but elbows tucked close to his sides.

Only, he still wasn't entirely sure what Jon meant, so while he took a breath to speak, he hesitated and what came out instead of the apology was, "Against me?"

Jon's hands come down to take a hold of Tony's and pull the other man's arms tighter around himself again, shaking his head at the question. "Against those that hurt me. That kidnapped and tried to murder me. Those that... Killed my friends." And often marked him with all those different scars littering his body. "I don't want to hurt you."

Tony gladly took to Jon's physical instructions, without a hint of that devious resistance while under the guidance of his hands that left Tony folded around him and struggling not to worry about how small he could feel and just how easy he must have been to hurt. He was actively telling Tony that he wasn't defenceless, and Tony had seen him in action, it was fine. That didn't make this any less of a dark place that Jon was bringing them, despite the dancing lights Tony had been making all day. He gave a quick, blind pat to assure Jon that he wasn't actually going anywhere, not for long, before disentangling himself to step back and spot the nearest candle flickering by the couch, touch sliding down Jon's arm to take his hand to lead. He toed out of his shoes as they went to drop down onto the couch by the warm light of the candle, turning to the side with his knee up on the cushions to pat then between his legs and welcome Jon back into his more secure embrace.

"Usually, it works the other way," he said. "You get these abilities, this opportunity, and it feels amazing, and you think you can really help people and you get out there and stop a plane from crashing. And it's great, can't be beat." He closed and eyes and shrugged with a deep breath and the inevitable, "But then..." He couldn't say he knew exactly how Jon felt, but it sounded like the same feedback loop to him, the powers solving the problem that wouldn't exist without the powers. "Because you're out there doing this, you have this extraordinary thing, that starts causing people to be hurt. Ruining lives, making supervillains." He was pretty sure he got what a weight that was, he was trying to say, and watched Jon hopefully for some assurance that they weren't talking about different things again. The candle could only do so much, Tony had to try to lighten this again, and he produced a wry smile, walking teasing fingers up Jon's chest to tap over his heart, "All part of being a hero."

"You are still the only one calling me a hero." Jon replies, but not without warmth to his tone after following Tony's guidance and settling on the couch and back in Tony's welcoming arms. "I was much rather been referred to as-" And he adds some one-handed air-quotes here. "The Antichrist. For a while I was the most powerful being in the universe and- I know what I did was wrong, but... It felt good. Not being helpless anymore. Being able to do something. To finally have control." Jon watches Tony's fingers, then looks over to the candle and eventually back at Tony himself before offering his decision. "I'm still working on figuring out how, but I want to be that hero you have always seen in me."

"You're probably just not hearing it," Tony corrected just as affectionately, because it was impossible that noone else saw it. What was Jon's boyfriend calling him while they were wandering around a horror-planet for months? The Archivist? Tony wasn't really prepared for it to be much worse than that, and grimaced at the alternative that Jon had ready, glad to be able to tangle Jon so thoroughly in his arms and bend of his leg like he would in his sleep.

"I think you're doing pretty good so far," Tony didn't think he had to mutter. He did already see it, after all, but that was much easier to address than what control felt like, making Tony wince. Just as a selection, he offered, "You stopped Billy from doing too much damage, you make that stuff for the hospital, you saved me'n the kid from that big plant, you translated all of those stones..." That sounded more like a hero than anything else anyone had been calling Jon. Quieter, he risked, "Do you not feel like you're in control here?" Obviously, they were at the mercy of the thing that brought them here, and they were continuously reminded of that in new, horrifying ways, but that wasn't what Tony meant.

"Without you, those translations wouldn't make any sense. That has been remarkable teamwork." Jon points out, one of his hands settling gently over one of Tony's. "But- I do feel more in control now. Here. Now that I understand my powers and don't have to worry about my home world anymore." Instead, he hopes to help other worlds. Especially ones that may now have to deal with the Fears that were released into the multiverse.

Jon's attention settles on the hand he has placed his own on and he smiles. "Your hands were among the first things about you I found myself drawn to." Which shouldn't be too much of a surprise for Tony by this point.

Not having to worry about what could be happening back home did sound like an incomparable relief. This whole experience would be very different if Tony wasn't wondering if he was out here making wrapping paper while Galactus was stopping over at Earth for a snack. Unfortunately, kicking all of the worst influences out of a plane of existence seemed to be a pretty singular trick, though Tony was at least lucky enough to consider its architect with pride and a fond stroke of his hair. Belatedly, having to shake himself out of watching Jon talk, he insisted, "You better not be telling anyone about the teamwork, I've got a reputation to uphold."

Following Jon's focus to their hands made Tony raise his eyebrows with surprise--not over this revelation, Tony was pretty sure Jon had admired Tony's hands more often than Tony had complimented his ass, but anxious about the turn they were taking to focus on Tony. His relationship with control needed its own anniversary to work through. "I don't know if you're ready for that," he deflected lightly, slotting his fingers one by one through Jon's as he spoke. "Getting control over my hands, that would take an incredibly strict master. Nigh impossible, some have said. Stuff of legends. You'd have to be the most powerful being in the universe."

At this, Jon can only laugh. "I would never dream of actually controlling your hands, Tony!" He tries to reassure with a smile cast over his shoulder. "And I trust that you know best how to make use of them. I enjoy watching them. And touching them, of course. And experiencing them, you might say." He shrugs a little at that admission, but the smile remains. "I like being in control over my powers, but I would never wish to control another being and deprive them of their own free will and having to take responsibility for their own decisions and actions." And fortunately that's not even something Jon could do if he wanted to. Not without causing an actual apocalypse again.

That statement sounded so sincere that Tony had to hug Jon closer to hide his own private smile and try to suppress a laugh against his neck. He really must not have realized how often he already effortlessly took control of Tony's fretful hands, well before he would have let Tony press a kiss behind his ear. Tony kept their fingers laddered together, but let Jon experience the other hand smoothing up then tickling deliberately down his flank, tripping down his ribs then straying across his stomach where Tony started to slowly gather the fabric of his shirt up and only stopped when that hold became a tense anchor, his smile fading as Jon spoke. Responsibility was always the problem.

"Most of my life, I've had to be in control," he finally admitted, easing back again because this was so magnetically opposed to the experience that Jon described, and easily put Tony into the position of that bully that he still had not apologized for being. "I had that power--in the more mundane sense, the money, and the technology, but also--I can see the future. To me, if I wasn't using those things to plan for every eventuality, to watch every back alley, keep records on everyone's movements, track the markets, watch the skies...It's my fault when something gets through the armor. It's because I wasn't paying attention if someone gets hurt, because I'm the only one that can do that." His hold in Jon's shirt had loosened to slip around to his back, a crease of fabric still pinched between Tony's fingers to worry restlessly. "And when I drank, I told myself for so long that it wasn't a problem, because I was always in control, and everyone else did it, and I'd been doing it since I was six years old, so if it also happened to quiet that part of my brain that was always holding up the sky..." Tony didn't have a lot of ways to do that. Now he had one less. His laugh wasn't very convincing as he concluded, "So, I'm the only person I can trust, and the last person I should trust."

Jon will gladly lean into the embrace and listen to Tony's very words. The way they lay out how Tony has been feeling almost his entire life. The burdens he took on himself and decided they were his own to carry while decidedly being too much for a single man to be responsible for.

He squeezes the hand in his and twists in Tony's hold until he is able to look at the man's face. "I told you before, you don't have to do everything by yourself. I am here. And I will help you hold up any sky if you let me. Not only on this world." Don't question him here. He has been dragged through one gap in reality and into the multiverse. He knows they exist and is necessary will find a way to control these.

...unless, of course, they manage to get access to whichever technology the Atroma are using to bring them all here. But even without it, Jon's offer to Tony stands. Tony simply has to trust him.

While Tony didn't stop Jon from turning around, he did guiltily avoid Jon's eye, sure this admission sounded about as pathetic as telling Jon that he had been burdened with too much money. A bounty of control didn't exactly compare with the absence of it. And the part he didn't quite say out loud, that he did regularly exert that control over people, and told himself it was for the greater good. He was so tangled in that guilt that this more immediate miscalculation, the suggestion that he didn't trust Jon, hadn't occurred to him, and he looked up quickly, flattening his hand on Jon's back in the same way that he would have raised it in the air to try to stop him.

"No, I--I know," he tried to correct, hand in Jon's hold flexing like he was reaching for an explanation that was easier to put together. After a beat of tension, sorting through what he had meant to say, he realized that Jon had done it for him better than he was going to manage and he broke into a smile to repeat, "I know."

The hold Jon has on Tony's hand doesn't ease up even with him being well aware of that little fidgeting fit. Though in a way, that's exactly why Jon refuses to let go. So he can ground some of that restlessness at least. The nervous, sometimes paranoid part, preferably.

Jon patiently waits for Tony to settle before he nods and returns the smile warmly. "I'm glad to hear that." He says and leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth. "I have also always liked your smile, you know that, too? And mean the real one." Not the artificial one Tony likes to hide behind so very often.

Tony chased the kiss hopefully, a magnet pulled after Jon's affection as he tried to draw away, only abandoning the pursuit with a new searching tension because Tony may have been starting to see the pattern, but it still felt like Jon kept putting this focus on him to get a confession out of him. Except Tony had already done his confessing, he was tapped out, and Jon already voiced his secret, it wasn't like Tony could argue for the sincerity of most of his smiles, so he felt the awkward heat rising in his face until he blurted the next most embarrassing thought that occurred to him, "That's good, boss, because it's getting really hard to control every time I see you." Which was excruciating because that felt like the kind of problem he should have gotten over by the time he left school crushes behind. He laughed with a heavy exhale of that tension, though, going boneless to lean back and drop his head against the couch where he could say to the ceiling, "Like I'm in love with you or something." He really needed to stop worrying about telling Jon anything, it was always already humiliatingly obvious.

"I love you, too." Jon returns easily, sealing the statement with another kiss. It's a lot less that Jon is hoping to lure secrets out of Tony, and rather that he enjoys saying nice things to Tony. If this leads to Tony saying sweet things in return? That's fine by him.

Jon rests his head on Tony's shoulder and lets himself relax into the warmth of Tony's body. "Please never feel like you have to control any of these smiles." Jon wants to see these smiles. Maybe he's needy, but he wants to see Tony's affection for him just as much as he wants to hear and experience it.

Jon could try to relax after winding Tony up like that. His smile was slow, nose wrinkling into the kiss as though Jon's shameless affection was just as embarrassing as Tony's grudging confession, and was left tense in a clear attempt not to squirm out of what Jon seemed to think was going to be an easy lounge. He could manage that, probably, it was just sitting still. He redirected most of the restless energy to his hands, of course, wiggling them free of any hold to go wandering through the folds of Jon's shirt, busily smoothing every crease only to gather up new ones.

"I am sorry," he finally said, emphasized as though this had been a verbalized dispute, now that he might have been jittering with too much energy but reassured that Jon was going to smile and kiss him no matter what he said today. "For...humiliating you. All of the time." It felt like a very long time ago that he had promised himself that he would be more careful with Jon, and he had clearly forgotten to keep that promise. "I'm not trying to--I mean, I am, listen, the intent is to irritate you, and now that I'm saying that out loud, I do recognize that I should probably work on that, that's not--normal--...but you being irritated, that's not the end goal, is the thing, it's just part of the process, to find out what it takes to get your irritated enough to--to...That's the problem, I don't actually know yet, what you'd do, you just keep letting me put the pressure on." He finally took a breath, but it didn't come back out easily, because Jon let him do a lot.

It's hard to ignore the renewed fidgeting, especially when Tony frees his hands to bring back their always restless motions. Jon lets out a soft exhale, but doesn't make a move to stop them.

"Tony," He says. Not in an accusing way, however. "Believe me, I... Know. And I mean I don't need to Know, but I know the different between friendly teasing and the kind that stems from malicious intent." It's a matter of experience. Jon settles his free hand on Tony's chest and gently moves it up to his neck and shoulder to massage the building tension out of the other man. "I admit I didn't take to it too well at the start and genuinely was frustrated on more than one occasion. I will accept your apology for those occasions. But I also wonder... Or rather, I doubt that your end goal is to make me angry in response to you- Pushing certain buttons." He emphasizes the last part with a press into the tense muscles of Tony's shoulder. "I suppose it depends on the buttons in question."

It was difficult for Tony to determine if this gesture was meant to stop his talking or his moving, but he made an effort to do both, trapping his tongue between his teeth and his hands in a tangle of Jon's clothes. That tension might have killed him if it wasn't for the immediate relief that Jon pressed into his frozen muscle, making Tony drop his shoulders and release the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. He kissed his appreciation into Jon's hair as he spoke, flexing his fingers to release them and Jon's tortured shirt as well and to finally sneak up under the hem where they gladly settled against Jon's skin.

"Sometimes," he admitted flatly until he broke with a snicker. This wasn't the first time Tony had tried to tell Jon this, he found, only that time Jon had seemed like he was on the verge of tears and not nearly as receptive to Tony's explanation. He hadn't seen Jon quite like that since then, despite how often he'd tried to provoke him, so maybe he was more receptive even then than Tony realized. He might have been capable of listening, occasionally. "If you're going to cry, wrong button, unconscionable, if you were an angry crier I don't know if this would have worked out, that might actually be a deal breaker. But if you're going to spank me, not a terrible button, I'll put in the rotation."

"You want me to spank you?" Jon asks, the wonder about this revelation clear in his voice and on his face. He would have assumed being a super hero in his own world would have led to Tony being hurt enough to not harbor a fondness for it. But maybe this is more a question about how certain kinks might be beneficial to a career of super heroism. After all, that suit Tony spends so much time working on very much is designed to prevent him from suffering too much of any potential injury, so Jon shakes his head thoughtfully even as his hand never stops that little massage. "No, this isn't about causing you any pain." But Tony likes the attention. And the excitement. He has proven more than once that he's a little thrill seeker.

"You like to play with dangerous things." Jon concludes, huffing out a small, warm chuckle. "Especially when you know that, fundamentally, they won't hurt you." He pauses a moment, then tilts his head a little. "And I suppose you prefer me using my powers on others rather than yourself." Not a stance Jon is unfamiliar with. Others have very openly enjoyed watching him do just that. But voyeuristic pleasures aside, there is also always the matter of boundaries. And Jon is well aware of where Tony stands in regards of magic. "Alright."

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