revivalproject | ruminate

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ruminate

WHO: Tony, Eli and anyone hungry.
WHERE: Vanto's Diner
WHAT: A regular meeting of a breakfast club, and some investigative interviews to build a database of the city
WHEN: Most mornings for a while, if Tony remembers to emerge from his mad lab
WARNINGS: Tony.
YOU KNOW I HAVE NOTES: If you want to have an interview with specifically Tony, Jon or both of them, just make that clear somewhere in your tag, don't stand on ceremony. If you're coming to breakfast, do threadjack.

for Eli
Food in general had been a series of continuously upsetting discoveries since Tony's arrival, everything native entirely new and having either an unexpected flavour profile, a very wrong texture, or turning out to be highly combustible. The latter had made him frustratingly skittish about even trying something else new, reducing his options even further, until he was sure it didn't come with adverse side effects like a total alcoholic relapse. Some gassiness he could deal with; he didn't know if he could handle an entire break from reality right now, that already felt on edge with his reality so inscrutably distant. While he hadn't ever been great about his eating habits, this situation was a test. His patience was already questionable, and he was starting to lose focus. The forge was difficult enough to run on his own, if he started losing more mass the work would slow to a crawl.

Most importantly, he hadn't had a cup of coffee in a brutal lifetime and a hit of caffeine would really solve all of his problems. His most reliable company in Temba weren't really big eaters, if that was something, but he didn't have to ask around; the little sign in the window declaring 'Vanto's Diner' had been a consistent enough curiosity every time Tony had to cross through the centre of town. If anyone could offer Tony some relief, it had to be the Vanto of the diner, which this desperate morning Tony was imagining had to be one of those retro type, vinyl boothed, checker floored staples where a waitress had a pot of coffee in either hand at all times. He could practically smell it. He wasn't exactly disappointed that it clearly wasn't when he had dragged himself all the way up from the forge, but he still closed his eyes and sniffed the air as he stepped inside, sad to see the fantasy go. It was dark, the long night not quite subdued yet by the rising sun, and the scattered tables were empty when Tony allowed himself to accept the reality and look around, but the one promise the sign lived up to was that this place didn't seem as abandoned as the rest of the city. "Hello?" Tony tried, wandering further into the room, wondering if this was a self-serve situation, and offered to the space, "You should maybe get a bell, something, liven the place up..."

the breakfast special
It got lively in Eli's diner by mid-morning. It was one of the few communal spaces established in the city, and with the population so small and spread across the crumbling area, it had to be a natural contact point for even the most reclusive residents when the cabin fever, as it were, set in. The one thing they all confidently had in common was that fountain outside. Everything else, how or if they settled in this city and what they did with their time, what planet they were from, what time period, what species, were all barriers between them that the fountain flowed through. Tony didn't have a lot of faith in Eli's branding or business plan otherwise, but the location was an undeniable spark of genius.

He wound his way through the diner back to the table that had been claimed while he waited for their meals, balancing several plates from Eli that rattled ominously as he tried to carefully lift them over other people's heads, but couldn't confidently tell anyone what was on any of them. "Which one of us got the...blue, herby experiment? I've got a kind of orange porridge concoction. And this looks a lot like a tea biscuit, which, honestly, I'm threatened by," he announced as he arrived, ready to dole out however a meal was claimed; he had faith he could eat what remained, if anything.

take a seat
The video shared to the Net Work had been short, with Tony looking off screen with a question in his expression directed toward someone who seemed to be with him when he didn't seem sure how to construct his message. "Listen, this isn't working, we're all over the place," he had started, commiserating with the camera with what must have been a shared frustration with their situation. "Every day someone tells me something about this planet like it's common knowledge, like I'm supposed to know that if I turn three times in place clockwise at sunset, I'll summon Billy for fashion advice. When do you think I figured that one out, what was I supposed to be doing to make that breakthrough?...Okay, sorry, here it is, we're going to make a database, we want to start figuring this stuff out and sharing it, so there's a record in the library. We could use your help, everyone has figured something out or has seen something interesting that is worth looking into, and maybe together we can get a better idea of what we're working with, properly distribute the resources, that kind of thing...If you've got a minute, we'll be at Vanto's, it'll be super casual, no commitments, just the dirty parts. Must be good on camera, bring a headshot."

Video wasn't actually part of the recording process, but it was slightly imposing. Jon's tape recorder alone set a certain mood that Tony wasn't getting used to, but he brought with him to arrange on the table a small globe, not entirely unlike the data point outside the diner, that glowed faintly and connected by a myriad of wires to the exposed hardware of his communication device cracked open in front of him. He wasn't great at waiting without someone sitting with him, so if he was meant to be alone the globe pulsed ominously, abandoned on the table, while he flitted around the room or disappeared into Eli's kitchen to assess his hardware with a general impatient disappointment until he had a quick solution to a small problem that he thought he could get away with. With the Archivist, Tony lounged more easily, draped across his seat and nursing a drink, working out his impatience by obviously needling Jon and getting him just on the edge of snapping at Tony for the leading questions, trying to find new buttons to push with a taunting grin he wasn't even hiding.

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While nothing about the pregnancy was, admittedly, anywhere near Tony's area of expertise, he looked skeptical about this answer as he took his post against Sansa's shoulder again. "I thought the eating-for-two phase was over. Are you sure it's not going straight to your--" he started, catching himself not nearly in time to do a smooth recovery but at least he didn't actually say ass. With a a grin of absolutely weaponized charming warmth, he finished, "Heart?," fluttering his eyelashes. Of course he meant she was just full of love now, she had no reason not to let him hold James while she packed more in.

"Yes, my heart." Sansa says, an eyebrow lifting. "Would you like to hold him? I can eat easier when I'm not reaching around poor James."

Distraction is a good tactic for the time being, she thinks.

"He spends most of his time sleeping since he's so young. He'll be screaming all the time soon enough so I would recommend holding him now when he's sweet."

No recommendation needed, Tony brightened the moment she offered, finally, shifting in his seat immediately to receive his gift. "And it looks great on you," he insisted, about her heart of course.

"That's not fair, he's just going to figure out what he likes and be very vocal about it. It's a strength," he recontextualized for her, which he knew wasn't going to mean anything once they were well out of the sweet phase and Sansa started to consider running away from home. Just for a few hours, of course. "Besides, you're out in the middle of nowhere, who is it going to bother? The glownies? You should try screaming, too."

"My husband might not be pleased at me screaming," Sansa reminds him, gently handing over the baby before getting back to her food for the moment. "He'll be trying to sleep too, after all. I'm just glad he wants to help. Men usually don't in Westeros."

And frankly, it's a relief to not have that burden without servants to help her carry the load.

"But if I need to do so to relieve stress I'm going to."

"Is that where he is now?" Tony asked absently after Tyrion, more focused on cradling the baby against his chest where he could properly greet him and smell his sweet head and generally try to convey James had absolutely no need to grow any further, he could make that personal choice. Thankfully, he had Dani to look forward to the moment they got out of this place, if Billy was to be believed, and had plenty of new baby time in his future, even if James wasn't a very good listener.

"Men usually don't in New York, either," he admitted, which he did realize sounded like an uncharacteristic humble brag, typically more of the brash braggart himself, after so readily claiming Sansa's baby from her. "My dad," he elaborated, "wasn't exactly..." Hands-on wasn't the right word there. "Prepared for the challenge." To James, he finished, "You're going to be much easier on your parents, though, aren't you? I'm the fun uncle, not the role model. You've got Steve for that."

"He is. He got up with him earlier when he was fussy and I wasn't needed," Sansa confirmed. "And he had a hard time getting back to sleep so he's sleeping now while the baby's with me."

When Tony mentions his own father was absent, Sansa nods a bit. She had been lucky with her lord father, certainly, but that wasn't the majority of houses in Westeros.

"I like that it's equal between Tyrion and I at least. And of course, I have such brilliant help from my friends."

"Be careful with that," Tony warned. With a confident hold on James, he could settle back into his seat, slouching down with one hand curling easily in the fabric under the baby's chin where he could grab blindly at Tony's fingers with soft, fumbling hands, blowing bubbles of sleepy curiosity. "You let people hang around long enough, they're going to want one of their own, it's going to be you babysitting in nine months." Which was only kind of a joke; if they were still here in nine months, that was a nightmare that Tony wasn't about to propose seriously, but if Wanda was anything like her counterpart from Tony's home, she was one encouraging conversation from positive thinking herself a whole family.

"I think I'm the only woman in a relationship just now," Sansa says, shrugging a bit. "Unless you've managed to charm someone into your bed already. So it'll likely still be all of you babysitting another one of mine, though it'd take at least...hmm."

Sansa thinks about it for a moment, trying to remember how long it took between Bran and Rickon for her lady mother.

"Two years, I'd think. You've a while before you can lay with anyone and then when you nurse, you cannot get with child. I don't have a wet nurse, so, I could carry again no earlier than ten moons from now, then you have to..."

Sansa looks at Tony and laughs. "Look at me. I've barely had one and not only am I contemplating another, I'm talking about myself in public. A lady shouldn't and queen should never."

At first, Tony gave her a sidelong smirk as if to say, of course he had managed to charm someone, only to point out, "Who would that be?" which was barely a joke again, it wasn't like the population of Temba supported a plethora of options, "You're the only woman in my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

His grin grew as she made her careful calculation, not even sure how true any of the restrictions were or this just happened to be her own life plan that she was describing to him. When she caught herself, he went, "See!" and wiggled his fingers, the power of baby James. "You just went through it, you know all of the worst parts, and even you're thinking about it. Does Tyrion know what he signed up for?"

"Tyrion wants a large family," Sansa says triumphantly. The compliment was very nice and she rewards good behavior. "We'd talked about four. My mother had five and his only three so we would like to rebuild our houses. War has not been kind to Houses Stark and Lannister. It's...both the joy and the duty of a lady and queen to bear sons and daughters for her husband. James is a Prince of Winterfell. We haven't had one of those in a long while."

Sansa finishes her plate and flags someone down to order something "sweet to finish" before continuing on. "Besides. Do you expect me to not lay with my husband whom I love? Babes come from that. They didn't in the place we were before, the Fleet, but they seem to here and it's the natural consequence of being bedded. I'm not willing to give it up."

A large family could have meant all kinds of things, but in this place having a steady partner that wasn't whisked away as suddenly as they appeared was above average; that Sansa had a husband and a whole kid already made her household an outlier, and Tony didn't hide his surprise mouthing in shock, "Four!" then "Five!" as she spoke. Only three-- even growing up lavishly rich and surrounded by wealthy, very comfortable families, any kids he knew never had more than the one sibling. All of the extra bedrooms in their mansions were for hanging the absurdly expensive art, and the youngest sibling was always the obvious result of trying to stave off an inevitable divorce.

Filling the house with many princes and princesses was a far more noble reason than the second one Sansa had, though, and it made Tony snort a laugh and try to offer James an apologetic coo for the sudden move even as he continued to chuckle, completely distracted from Sansa's lofty plans. "If that's what gets you off, honestly, good for you," he insisted, not wanting her thinking that he was laughing at her or that he would ever be one to cast any judgement on what she did in her marital bed, but she didn't make it sound like this was just a personal preference of theirs. Besides, he didn't know when this would have come up for a queen who should never talk about herself in public: "You know you have plenty of options there, right? Just-- I'm not fishing for details, cross my heart, but you know you're not in Westeros anymore, right?" Maybe it was a little early for this conversation. James had plenty of elementary school years between him and a thorough sex education, Sansa had time to figure it out before she was passing down whatever cultural repression she was raised with.

"I know there's things you can do," Sansa says softly, trying to make sure other people cannot hear her. "But it's not fair...it's not fair for my husband to never get to finish in me or for us to only be able to...well, you know. The other things."

Gods, she's a woman wed with a child. She can talk about this.

"I like the other things but it isn't the same as...as the...you know what it is. You know what makes children. I like that part and he does too. I don't want to never be able to."

It was very hard not to laugh again at Sansa's subterfuge, both the carefully lowered voice and how she danced around actually vocalizing anything too scandalous, making Tony raise his eyebrows and nod along in a way that seemed like it had to be a pantomime of actually active listening. 'The other things', 'you know what it is', she did really sound like a mom despite herself. That wasn't entirely unlike the way his mom had spoken in hushed tones about Tony's risky teenage flings, and that had been to her own husband behind closed doors that Tony listened at; it had to be a mom thing.

"You have to do me and yourself a favour," he started gently, because it was clear that she had no idea she wasn't in Westeros anymore and didn't yet know the actual breadth of her options. "And this is purely medical advice, in fact, what you're going to do is go to the hospital, you know the doc there now, right? Jon Sims. Very gentle, very understanding, you can talk to him about anything, and this is perfectly normal for anyone from, you know, our century. You have to ask him about birth control." The only shame was that Tony couldn't be there to witness the conversation, but if he knew in his heart that it had happened, it would be a great joy to him.

Birth control. Sansa knows how to use moon tea to kill a child in the womb or keep a man's seed from taking root but she hasn't seen anything like it in the greenhouse and none of the plants she's found seem to be anything like tansy. She wouldn't risk tansy anyway - it's dangerous.

"Tansy can kill a woman," Sansa says gravely. "It's a high price to pay for the assurance it gives you. Whores use it...I used it. With...with the man who hurt me. I thought it made me barren. I won't take tansy. I won't. I'd rather risk my chances in childbed than that."

She thinks she's still talking softly enough that the hustle and bustle of the diner keeps her words private. "Tyrion wouldn't let me take it. He'd go his whole life without touching me if it meant I wouldn't poison myself to prevent a child."

Tony should have known that would go dark fast. By the time he figured out how Sansa had interpreted his suggestion, he had to try to hush, "What? No. Oh, no," covering James' ear with his free hand like he didn't want the baby to be aware of his mother's mortality, just her complicated sex life. That was a way less fun question to submit Jon to. "Nothing that dramatic. You know what, forget about it, none of my business, I'm more than happy to babysit a whole brood." He shouldn't have sidelined them in the first place, Sansa's family planning was between her and her husband. "Keep eating like that, though, it'll be hard to tell when to congratulate you," he pointed out, glad to take the heat now if it meant distracting Sansa from that bleak thought, dragging the plate of her sweet dessert offering as it was deposited on the table away from her to try for himself first instead. For her own good.

"I just delivered a child," Sansa says, pouting. "Besides, I'm not yours to touch anyway. Why do you care if I'm fat now? You're not having to steel yourself to look at me naked."

Sansa promptly drags her plate back after Tony's taken his bit of it and hoards it. She doesn't think eating more when she's so damnably hungry is a bad thing.

Hey, that was good, and Tony really thought he'd had a solid tactic to keep it. Not only was Sansa relentlessly committed to her dessert, she shot Tony through the heart in cold blood, making him clutch at his collar over James and drop his head back, mortally wounded by this open, final-sounding rejection, peppered with the cruel shrapnel of the unattainable image of her naked. He had never been slain so thoroughly, his groan said. The recovery was quick, though, only taking a breath before Tony was admitting lightly, "I deserved that." Maybe he wouldn't recommend having Sansa join them as he tried to teach Jon some stabilizing yoga, it didn't seem like the kind of advice she was taking right now, and tried to ingratiate himself instead with an arm along the back of her chair once more, searching this time for her plate. "I take it you have no complaints, then," he concluded, meaning James must have been eating well and nothing had come up to worry Sansa yet that Tony could be of any help with.

"No, nothing to complain about," Sansa says sweetly, unable to keep from smiling when she looks at her son nestled in Tony's arms. "He's everything I always wanted wrapped into one person. He's...I love him. I've never loved anyone so easily."

Sansa has loved her son since before she met him, though, and it's an amazing feeling to have. She knows she's accepted there, that there's no pity or shame he feels about her past, that he depends on her for everything and she always supplies.

"You're holding my heart in the cradle of your arms right now."

That sweetness was enough to make Tony die a whole different death, not shattered but melted with a longing ache tightening his chest that he didn't want to think about, and so aware suddenly of this tiny being's fragility. With the hand along Sansa's shoulder, Tony curled his knuckles under her chin to balance a kiss to her hair, without any better language for the tenderness she inspired. There, he chuckled, "He's a lucky man." This wouldn't have been the first place Tony chose to raise a child, but he knew for sure this baby wouldn't wonder for one second how loved he was, and that was a kind of paradise.

"I hope I do well with it," Sansa says, still watching where James is sleeping in Tony's arms. He sleeps like this for Tony and Tyrion but whenever she has him suddenly James remembers that he ought to wake up and squall. Hmm.

"He's going to be hungry soon and I'll have to take my leave. The company is wonderful but unfortunately he won't be able to get fed without some privacy so it'd be best if I did that on the way home. Perhaps I can find a tree to duck behind."

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ruminate

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