revivalproject | What do you see?

Dreaming Jon's voice wasn't entirely unusual, so at first Tony didn't move, though this time it had nagged him into a horrendous consciousness of his body that he would prefer to quickly slip away from again, if he could drop back into sleep. There were distinct aches in each of the folds of his brain, which were almost enough to distract from the acid in his stomach and the stiffness of his hands. He should have made sure something else was nearby to drink before crawling into this pile of blankets. It was hidden defensively far from the door, behind a table laden with tools and parts, and among the camouflage of a tumultuous mess that even DATA could no longer attempt to keep in order. When Tony wasn't trying to sleep through the headache, he was clearly working with a manic intensity that didn't exactly account for focus, leaving everything partially constructed or abandoned with a frustration that split the projects back into parts.

It was the second time the voice came that Tony had to open his eyes, the light in the room warming as he did, then immediately dimming again as he squinted against it. There was definitely someone in here with him, though, so despite the protest of his empty engine, he pushed himself up on one hand to try to get eyes on the intruder. This was becoming a trend that Tony wasn't sure he liked. "Sorry about the mess," he greeted, rubbing at his eye, then attempting to comb back his hair before he was spotted.

That Tony's workplace is a mess isn't necessarily new, but what Jon finds himself walking into is beyond Tony's level of messiness and easily validates a frown from the Archivist as he looks around for the other man. Luckily he doesn't have to look far since Tony is makign his location known. Sort of at least. It's a direction Jon receives and a direction he walks intoonce prompted.

"Jesus Christ, Tony. What are you doing here?" Jon asks aloud while approaching the table behind which Tony has made his little nest. There's concern in Jon's voice and why wouldn't there be. He doesn't stop in front of the table but walks right around it until his eyes finally find Tony, looking even more of a mess than his workshop. Jon needs to set his own feelings of guilt aside and focus entirely on Tony and he crouches down in front of the man with a stern expression. "You really need to come home, Tony."

That didn't give Tony much time to make himself presentable, and he mostly forgot he was doing it anyway as Jon made his way around the table and Tony's head was dropping onto his shoulder instead with a smile that almost made it through his headache. Maybe it was okay to let some people into the shop, if they were Jon, if only to look at him every once in a while. The smile was short-lived as he was reminded to at least try to defend, "I dropped something..." and made a vague effort of stirring around the blankets like he was just down here looking for a loose ball bearing, though he knew it wasn't a convincing act even before he had finished speaking. It was going to be even harder to be convincing as Jon got so close, making Tony lean cautiously back, gaze wandering to the side like there was something interesting to track on the far wall so he didn't have to meet that stubborn eye.

"I will," he said, not sounding terribly sure, because he wasn't sure if that was what Jon actually wanted, either. "I just have to finish some work, you know, fix some things, otherwise neither of us is going to be able to relax, it'll be a nightmare, you can't tell me I'm not a distraction under normal circumstances, no wonder you've been able to get so much done."

Jon's eyes slide away from Tony and to the blanket-covered floor between them. He shouldn't be surprised to be met with excuses. An old habit Tony has never been able to break. Possibly never will.

"Have you considered that maybe I want those distractions?" Jon asks and reaches a hand forward to place it on Tony's forearm. "And- You could use them as well." Neither of them can simply always be buried in whatever work they have taken upon themselves. Jon regards his own fingers on Tony's arm. The familiar physical contact that has become so scarce. "I miss you."

It was only that touch that stopped Tony from shaking his head, and froze him instead of charging in to interrupt. It didn't exactly change his mind, Jon didn't know what he was asking for, but Tony did want the same thing so badly that he took the chance instead to gather Jon's fingers and bring his palm to his lips instead. What Jon missed was the competent hero that Tony had pretended to be; Wesker hadn't needed the power of the god of shameful secrets to see straight through that facade. Tony needed more time to make it more convincing. "I have something for you," he said, and was already tugging on Jon's hand as he gingerly got to his feet as he offered, "Want to see?"

For now, he only needed to be convincing enough to make the journey across the shop not look too tender, and limited himself to some squinting against the light and hand pressed against his sternum like that might be just enough pressure to keep from being sick. It got him to the flickering bank of computers that turned out to be their own facade as he slid them aside, revealing a hollow impression behind them where a fully assembled Iron Man armor stood waiting. It was sleeker than the suits that Tony had paraded through Temba's skies in almost every way; gentler curves, more subtle connections, and it was only about Tony's height rather than towering over him. In place of the dazzle of red, too, was a more subtle sheen of shifting gold, green in the shadows and grading through copper where it caught the light. "I'm calling it the Model ICU," he announced, with a phantom of a smirk and a sidelong glance Jon's way, get it?. The helmet came away easily for Tony to offer to Jon expectantly.

That Tony is changing the topic right away isn't surprising and Jon lets him do so. For now. Though he watches the other man closely while being led through the workshops, keeping mental notes. Tony just can't keep doing this to himself. It's obvious that his body is exhausted and in need of both rest and proper food. This is what Steve must have observed as well and in many ways Jon feels responsible for allowing Tony to get this bad.

It's the reveal of the new armor that brings a stop to Jon's thoughts and for a few moments all he can do is stare, mouth half open. "Wha-" Oh, he understands. He understands perfectly. Is this what Tony has been working on this entire time? Jon looks from the armor to Tony. Shit.

"Tony, I-" Jon starts, but that's when the helmet of the armor is offered to him and Jon carefully accepts the part, his eyes flicking down on its smooth surface. Shit.

"I don't know what to say." Jon has to admit and instead of cradling a helmet all he wants is to hold Tony close. What jon can't claim is that he isn't excited about this. That he isn't flattered by the knowledge that Tony put all this effort into making this suit for him. That he isn't terribly scared by the idea of actually wearing it.

He finally shakes his head once, letting out a small laugh of excitement while looking back up at Tony. "Shit." Jon finally says out loud. "You better teach me how to use this!"

That was a difficult reaction to read, and at first Tony's brow furrowed with concern, not sure where to start to sell Jon on the concept, and reassure those crackling nerves. He couldn't help an anxious laugh of his own after Jon's, like a pressure release, and encouraged Jon to lift the helmet and try it on as he assured, "Way ahead of you, beloved." Unlike Tony's helmet, this one was much more snug, fit properly to Jon and immediately shifting into place to secure around his neck as soon as it was over his head. The display inside lit up, rapidly populating with the status of the armor itself with a flare of red for all of the parts that weren't yet properly connected, vitals for Jon as the helmet could gather them, and Tony as it scanned, and an array of feeds from cameras scattered across the city to every whisper across the network. They all dimmed as fast as they appeared, including the view of Tony watching hopefully from just in front of Jon for another display to monopolize his attention; Tony again, only standing among the HUD elements like they belonged to them, and looking far more relaxed and confident than he did in person, impeccably manicured and still managing to look expensive and artfully undone in a digital suit, hair suggestively tousled and his collar unbuttoned enough to reveal the perfectly unscarred skin of his chest. The electric slant of his smirk might as well have been calculated on a graph. He was the exact image he was supposed to be, including greeting, "Hey, boss. I'm here to listen." When he gave a teasing cock of his head, slinging his hands into his pockets, the blurry double of him over his shoulder was almost a mirror. "What do you want to see first?"

Jon easily allows Tony to put the helmet on his head and follows the different information flooding the screen. Handling all this input is easier for him now and in a way it feels familiar even.

Seeing a smaller version of Tony manifesting before his eyes gets a little smile out of Jon and he takes a moment to look between both Tonys. Yes, there are some differences to note, but those come down to Tony neglecting to take care of himself. A fact only underlined by the vitals Jon recives from the scans.

"Everything." The answer comes as a bit of a reflex, but it's also true. "But-" Jon adds, reaching his hands up to gently roam the sides of the helmet. "This does open up, right?" One of Jon's hands gestures in front of the visor. "I can't kiss you like this!" The hand stops gesturing. "W-wait. Can I access the network with this? I can ask Tommy to bring us some food and you can show me everything." A pause, then: "Does it- Fly?"

The digital Tony's eyebrows raised at Jon's immediate answer, like he couldn't take it as anything other than salacious and was readily tugging his collar aside to start a striptease before Jon was elaborating. Outside of the helmet, Tony's warm hands were quickly over Jon's, intending to calm them before they started yanking and glad to squeeze them instead as he gently guided them flat on either side of the helmet where Jon could press his thumbs, not into a latch but creating a gesture for them both to remember. There was going to be a lot of those. All along, Tony was responding, "Of course," Jon could have anything he wanted, only breaking with a laugh before he repeated it again as the mask lifted and Jon made his demand clear. "Of course, of course" was quieter then, muttered against Jon's forehead with a kiss, even while the smaller voice in Jon's ear reported, "Dialing Tommy, boss."

Tony only stepped away then with an anxious glance side to side, not wanting anyone else near his stuff, and realizing, "We don't have to call in a chaperone, okay, I won't--we can just go outside, public area, easier to fly." Automatically, he raised a hand to call the rest of the suit, and it gave a shiver before all of the plates clattered back together. Tony kept still with his arm up, only glancing toward Jon expectantly, to encourage another gesture that felt natural, so he was the one controlling the armor's assembly.

The touch isn't something Jon minds at all. It's welcome and the warmth of Tony's hands an easy way to calm any of Jon's fidgeting. The smaller Tony gives way to the actual Tony, but clearly remains as a small voice in his ear. A voice that isn't nearly as reluctant as Tony at the idea of Jon leaving a food order with their mutant friend.

"A picnic then." Jon compromises with a single finger lightly raised in Tony's direction as a sign that he expects Tony to not argue the matter any further. "You will want to have snacks if we're having flying lessons." Which can only go disastrously, but there is a smile on Jon's face that clearly says he is fine with that.

It's the clattering from the remaining parts of the suit that draws Jon's attention then, pausing his words as he looks from the armor over to Tony before cautiously mimicing the other man's gesture.

Just as cautiously, with Tony's brow furrowed to ask if that was what Jon meant to do, maybe that one was a work in progress, the suit gave another shiver then started flying at Jon in determined parts. The faceplate snapped abruptly shut again along with them, where Tony could appear alongside a model of the suit that he was ostensibly helping to define for Jon, but lounged against its shoulder and obscured half of the lables as they appeared with the arrival of each new scale of the armor that assembled itself around Jon. He was more respectfully buttoned up then, and the real Tony behind him did his best to catch up in the time he had, searching around the disaster of his workshop for his sunglasses and a jacket to survive the unforgiving sunlight. "How's the fit?" they both asked at the same time, Tony's digital smile a self-satisfied hook that clearly didn't need an answer.

He should have expected this to happen. He really should have expected it. But Jon didn't. And therefore his shriek of surprise at seeing the pieces come for him is cut off abruptly when the helmet snaps back shut. And while he KNOWS he doesn't have to fear anything from this suit Tony made for him, Jon still makes some rather clumsy attempts to dodge the pieces out of pure instinct. Though these attempts are bound to fail. If only because Jon has always been terrible at avoiding anything in the first place.

Once reason catches up with the situation, it's already over and Jon is left feeling silly. But also armored, his red face safely hidden behind the faceplate that yet again treats him to a Tony's double presence.

"Christ, please warn me next time!" Jon exclaims with an exhale, trying to look like he hasn't just been tripping over his own feet. And that's when the information slowly trickles through. Along with Tony's question. Which has Jon bring up his hands so he can look down on them, almost as if to make sure he even is wearing that armor. "It- It's perfect." Jon replies, not without wonder in his voice and he can't help but voice the first question that comes to mind. "Did you measure me?"

The digital Tony was better at hiding his amusement at Jon's squeaking and flushed face, looking innocent with a hand to his heart at Jon's complaining, and had to cover the laugh that came from behind him by asking, "What did you think you were doing then?" He brought that beckoning hand up again, like repeating the gesture would give it some other meaning, then used his raised hand to dismiss the labled schematic for Jon to better see his own gauntlets, another overlay defining them in real time with scrolling lists of parts and capabilities.

Tony was clearly unprepared for the question, because the answer was displayed before he stumbled through, "Yeah, I mean, kind of, you know...," his reference images fanning along Jon's peripheral vision, some of them perfectly mundane pictures of Jon outside with shadows all laboriously graphed, and others much more intimate of Tony's hands fit around Jon's wrist or waist. They were gone quickly, the Tony in the helmet making a panicked gesture like he was tearing them down and replaced them with more equations as his real voice justified, "It has to be perfect, or your brain is going to leak out of your ears in there."

What he thought he was doing? That's not a question Jon has an answer for. But it very much sounds like a question Tony doesn't expect an answer for to begin with, which leaves Jon another moment to simply be baffled by this creation Tony has produced with what little he had available on this planet.

His amazement is being derailed by Tony's less than intentional answer to Jon's question. And while there's a very clear lift of Jon's head to look at Tony he sounds less shocked and much rather reminded. "Ah-" Yes, this checks. This is Tony after all. Jon still clears his throat and nods twice at that little additional information.

"So, uh- Put on yours and we can head out."

It was Tony's turn to hesitantly mutter, "Ah...," the clatter of his search through the scraps for his boots coming to an abrupt stop as he froze and considered another question that he was unprepared to answer. It seemed like such a monumental void to Tony that it was impossible that Jon didn't just know, supernaturally or otherwise. The digital Tony meanwhile flickered, hands up again like he would cast away the images he didn't mean to reveal; the last armor being stripped, the schematics of this one overlayed to show how it was being repurposed. It might have been better to leave them this time, so Tony didn't have to explain so much out loud. It was the small image that reported, "Not much of it left, boss. It's okay, I'll be here, if you need me."

Of course Jon could simply Know if he wanted to, but he is opting out of it, which isn't always easy. However, Tony's hesitation is a clear indication that something was off and Jon doesn't have to prod or guess to receive an answer regardless of Tony's silence. A silence Jon joins in on for a moment while understanding sets in.

"Tony..." Jon starts and reaches up once again to replicate the motion Tony had just taught him and flip the faceplace back open while he staps forward, a concerned frown on his face. "Why?" And this time he doesn't want images to be the answer.

The expression on the digital Tony was reluctant, but brief before he was gone with the faceplate to reveal the much less composed Tony hugging his sweater to his chest and looking aside like he might find an acceptable explanation over there, and definitely not in Jon's face. "Iron Man is a hero," he said, and produced an encouraging smile when he could bring himself to look Jon's way again. They both knew that much, that was what Jon said that little toy he carried around meant. "You always know the right thing to do, this city deserves someone who can look out for them. This way, you know, I'm not pissing you off, and I have to listen, it's a win for everybody."

"You're not going to listen to me regardless what I'm wearing." Jon points out with a stubborn set of his jaw. They both know this to be true. Just as they both know that Jon isn't Iron Man.

Jon steps forward to put his hands on Tony's arms, his expression stern and his voice direct. "Iron Man is a hero, yes. But you are Iron Man, Tony. Without you, Iron Man is just two words put together to form a name. You brought meaning to those words and the armor. You were the one that turned them into the hero that saved his world multiple times." His hands move along Tony's arms to take hold of the man's hands, finding himself displeased that the gauntlets limit his touch. "If you want to know what's pissing me off? It's that something or someone is making you doubt yourself this much. You have no reason to do that, Tony. You're doing everything for everyone here and expect nothing in return. Wether you believe it or not, you still are Iron Man."

While there hadn't been much of a chance yet to prove he would do as he was told, Tony thought he'd been doing pretty good so far and clicked his tongue irritably at what felt a lot like Jon calling his bluff. A more straightforward AI, then, that wasn't so likely to 'adapt' while Jon was trying to pilot the suit, which gave something Tony to focus on as he glared over Jon's shoulder and wrinkled his nose. The Avengers saved the world, Rhodey was a better Iron Man--Jon took his hands, and it was a struggle but Tony took a breath to try to release that program and his arguments in the exhale, gaze dropping down to the gloves.

It didn't last long. Tony's frustrated snarl returned, and this time he had to argue, "It's not something, it's me. The only thing I've been doing here is making it worse--I say the moon screams, it starts trying to kill us, I say we should blow up a building, that sets off a volcano, and I'm trying to fix it, okay, but I'm actually an idiot, and I feel like every day I'm getting worse while you get better and it's damn hard to ignore this gulf anymore. I look down that hall and I can already feel those eyes on me, and instead of helping people I'm thinking about how I can be worth how much I need you."

Jon frowns at that. "You say that I am getting better, yet you act as if I'm getting worse." He says. Even now Jon is still not sure if he has actually improved what control he has over his powers or if he has only lost more of himself to the Eye and Fear itself. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head to push past those thoughts. "You're worth everything to me, Tony. Please don't assume that I don't need you."

And what point is there to argue anything else, really? They all agreed to blow up that building to get attention. And that's what they got. Neither of them had assumed that attention would be in their favor. And neither of them even considers blaming Tony for anyything that happened since. Not when everyone is aware that the true fault lies with those aliens that seem to control literally everything on this planet.

Shocking Tony with that accusation effectively managed to stop him from cringing, his anxiously tight hold around the Iron Man's gloves going slack like his hands might dart away instead as he had to shift his resentment away from such an embarrassing admission. He had worse things to feel guilty about. "What?" he asked, baffled and worried. "I'm not...How could you be worse?" was not exactly the question he meant to ask, but had to figure that out first before he understood how he could have been acting like it. "I'm surprised every time I see you, it's like I can't remember what you look like, or I can't hold how much there is of you in my head, and that person I met, upstairs, that I already thought was explosive and fascinating, that was just version one-point-oh, so I'm having a hard time understanding--I lied to you, even then. I told you I would be getting us out of here, and that's ancient history now, so, if that's the person you think you need--that's why I can't go in there. I'm trying, I am."

The moment Tony's hold lessens is Jon's clue to strenghten the hold again from his end. "Tony. No one is expecting of you to solve what is going on all by yourself." Which is something Jon has said before and he will repeat it again if he has to. "We are all being held here by aliens that can literally- Turn off everyone's powers. And none of that is your fault. Neither did you lie. There is no timer running and you are still trying. Now if you could please just stop being stubborn and and just let me and your friends help and- Christ. Just come home!" A sigh. "Please. I'm trying to be stronger so that I can be helpful, not to scare you."

It certainly felt like it was all his fault, and every new arrival and disappearance like a personal failure, so it took squeezing the gloves in return to ease the frown of frustration and try to listen instead of argue the point with Jon. His glare was still on the armor's chestplate when he tried to insist, "You don't scare me, you don't," only then realizing that couldn't have been true. He was scared, terrified of all of this emptiness in him being seen, that was what Jon did, and the reality of that was difficult to reconcile with Jon being the one he was afraid to lose as well.

Tony's shoulders dropped in surrender. He gave a small nod, then cast a glance around the lab like he might be able to spot and physically extract some of this shame at the last second, before Jon had to witness it.

It may not be Jon himself who Tony is scared of, that's true, but his powers sure are a point of concern for Tony. And Jon can't fault him for it. No one wants their secrets known by any means and yet if Tony were honest with himself, he is no saint if it comes to respecting privacy himself. The man may be closer to the Eye already than he may be willing to see.

Jon lets go of Tony's hands at the nod, but only to bring his arms up higher and around Tony's neck to pull the man into an embrace instead. An embrace that feels... Odd. While wearing that full suit of armor. The present issue may be far from solved, but at least right now Tony isn't piling up new excuses to run away again right away.

"I will scare you once you see me fly this thing." Jon promises.

The hug was too much of a relief for Tony to be entirely distracted by the armor, though it made Jon unfamiliarly tall, and the helmet was cold resistance where he tried to press his cheek closer. It did let him squeeze more tightly around Jon's waist, with a pressure that might have been suffocating without the armor between them, like if he could hold on hard enough this wouldn't be what felt like the last time Jon would be this close to him for a while. Inside the armor, the indication of proximity and pressure were subtle, just a shift of temperature where Tony's arms were looped, not unlike the warmth spread along Jon's feet.

"You're going to do great, you're going to pick it up so fast they're not even going to know it's you in there, people are going to be asking you for money," Tony encouraged. Then, finally easing away a bit, he admitted, "I designed plenty of safety redundancies."

Tony may sound sure about this, but Jon remains doubtful. He doesn't even know how to drive a car. It's not something he ever needed to know. But that's not quite the main issue Jon sees. And it takes him a moment to put that one into words.

"I mean- I guess I will try, but-- What exactly is it you expect of me to do with this?" He isn't a hero like Tony or Steve or Tommy and Billy. Jon doesn't have a record of saving worlds. The opposite is much more true. And putting him in Tony's suit won't change that. It won't change who and what Jon is.

That wasn't the kind of question that Tony had anticipated, and it sounded perhaps philosophical until he drew away enough to raise an eyebrow at Jon, who did look reliably serious. He still had one hand on Jon's side, where he could sweep it up the smoothly machined plates as he said, "My love, you are the smartest man on the planet. You're going to do exactly what you keep trying to tell me to do, and you're going to do it well, and you're going to keep these people safe from a place that wants them to suffer."

"Tony, I keep telling you to not get hurt." Jon points out with a bewildered look on his face. Since it's true. If there's one thing Jon keeps telling Tony, then it's to be careful. But he doubts that's why Tony has put him into this armor. On the other hand him being in the armor means that Tony isn't. And maybe it means that Tony is less likely to get into any dangerous situations.

Jon sighs once, then nods. "Fine." He can try. If only to keep Tony safe.

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