revivalproject | Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

Entry tags:

Calibrations Waiting Room Mingle

WHO: ALL HE ROWS
WHERE: The Secret Tunnel, which has become the Calibrations Waiting Room (or was it always...?)
WHAT: Mingle log for literally anything you'd like to take place in the waiting room between sleep cycles during the event
WHEN: June 3 - July 10
WARNINGS: Please mark individual threads with warnings

For those that have heeded Ga Re's warning, the door within the secret tunnel - which looks suspiciously like the hatch to one of your shuttles - is wide open, waiting for you. You walk through... and the door behind you disappears. You’re now standing in a cavernous, cold, white waiting room. There are hallways leading off the main corridor with names above each. One of them has your name and will draw you toward it, inevitably.

And on the wall, in pink, running letters is written this single greeting:

‘Welcome to Calibrations’.

The secret tunnel has become a large waiting room with chairs, tables, and the same food dispensers available in the shuttles. There are also communal bathrooms - one for each gender - with several toilet stalls and shower stalls in each, including basic shampoo and soap dispensers, like you might find in a hotel. The water isn’t hot, so hopefully you don’t mind lukewarm showers. Somehow, at least, it never goes cold.

Branching off the main waiting room room are the labeled hallways. At the end of each short hallway is a door, with the same character’s name written on them. Anyone can enter any room, regardless of the name written on it. Everyone has their own room, though of course people can share. Each room has a simple bed (approximately queen-sized) and a set of drawers.

You can opt to spend time in your room or in the larger, common waiting room. (And if you do, you can thread it out here!) But every 16 hours, you'll feel a compulsion: You need to sleep. Right now. You find yourself going into your room (or someone else's, if you really want). But you’re drawn to the bed. You can’t help but lie down. And then, you fall asleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tony took that look personally, fanning his hands out behind his head to welcome any alternative theories if Jon wasn't impressed by that one, he was just working with what he had. It wasn't like Tony was enjoying himself, it was just a hypothesis. The boredom was going to be a big problem very fast if no one else had the forethought to bring a Gamecube down here, either, Tony had about 18 hours of worrying about the circumstances in him before he knew he would be climbing the walls. Or tearing them down.

"Hey, look at it this way, we might turn on each other instead," he suggested brightly. That would be something to do. "We better start your training regimen. Got all the time in the world now, beef you up, come out of here an absolute stud."

The worst part of that theory still remains that it might very well end up true. And the same goes for the possibility of people starting to fight one another. An idea that makes him grimace. Though that grimace is also in part aimed at that last bit of Tony's gathering of ideas.

"...please don't ever again suggest the idea of me ever being a.... stud." Tony may be able to pull that off, but Jon? Unlikely. He still lets out a sigh, easing the tension out of his face "But maybe you can show me a few exercises."

It did even sound implausible coming out of Jon's mouth with such disdain, making Tony snicker as he pushed himself up with his head propped up in one hand so he could peer down at Jon critically, assessing the likelihood and taking his time dragging his gaze back up to meet Jon's with an unconvincingly innocent pout. If he really wasn't meant to have anything better to do with his time for the foreseeable future, Tony had a few ideas for a rigorous regimen he could be putting Jon's body through, cracking the pout with a sharp grin. "What, not your type?" he needled, then very sympathetically with a nod, "Too much responsibility?" He wasn't about to let some teasing distract him from addressing Jon's balance again, though, and he gave an experimental squeeze to Jon's shoulder, knowing exactly what he would find there but still embarrassing them both with the question, "How many pushups can you do?"

To be fair, all of these questions are embarrassing for Jon to find himself on the receiving end of. Though they also raise questions in himself, not necessarily pleasant ones. They're questions lined with a fine, yet dreadful doubt as his eyes land on the hand squeezing his shoulder.

"I... I don't think I-" Jon starts, then pauses long enough to roll from his back onto his stomach, holding himself up on his forearms while directing an imploring look at Tony "Would you want me to be more... uh-" He trails off, eyes darting around as if seeking the right word hidden somewhere within this room while the tips of his fingers peel at the mattress underneath them. The term Jon settles on may not be the greatest choice in the end, he is aware of that, and yet it feels remotely accurate?

"...physically.... better?"

It is an honest question, at least. Terribly phrased, perhaps, but Jon wouldn't put it past anyone to seek something visually more appealing to spend their time with.

It took Jon so long to get around to the question that Tony had no idea what to anticipate, narrowing his eyes as Jon fretted over his phrasing. If he hadn't taken his time, Tony would have readily answered 'Of course', because that was what they were talking about-- he wanted Jon to be able to swing a pipe around for a few minutes without breaking out in a sweat, or safely catch a small object without toppling over, and he wasn't exactly sleeping or eating in any healthy way. What would he have done if he had felt that faint when Tony wasn't around?

It took Jon so long to work around it, though, that Tony hesitated, mouth open then snapping shut. He could see how that could sound. He was rolling himself over then, too, but pushed up onto his knees, kicking his boots off before he dragged them into Jon's bed to sit on his heels, gesturing for Jon to sit up with him. "Let me see," he instructed, corner of his mouth still twitched up in a smile but without quite the same teasing glint.

"Right..." Jon confirms and follows Tony's unspoken request by mimicking the other man's posture, not sure what to expect or what is expected of him. But sure, he can sit upright if that helps. More or less upright, at least. Jon's posture is not the most immaculate one. Also the unsure expression on is face remains.

Which is why he plain asks, hands resting in his lap: "So... What is it you want to see?"

At least he does it without complaint, though Tony was hoping that he would be able to see in the move what Jon was feeling the most self-conscious about and the answer seemed to be everything, in general, from that expression. He wasn't proving any better at listening to Tony, this wasn't a point he would have thought he'd have to make again. Letting him slouch for now, Tony slid closer to wrap a hand around the back of Jon's neck, keeping him still while Tony plucked his glasses off to perch in his own hair out of the way, and start with a kiss to his brow. "Hmm...no complaints so far," he mumbled, spreading his next kiss to Jon's cheek in a smile that he had almost under control by the time he pressed his lips to Jon's jaw, lingering there to nuzzle into the smattering of scars that he wasn't ignoring. This was safe territory, though, Tony knew that, so he took his time working his way back to Jon's ear as he curled a finger around one of Jon's to pluck his hands out of his lap.

Jon has never been a brave man, and neither has he ever been a particularly confident one. Either too short or to smart or too annoying in just the wrong way but never truly figuring out just where his strengths may lie to appeal to those around him. He hardly even does his job as well as he had hoped he would. And now that he is surrounded by geniuses and superheroes that are easily so much more competent than him, successful and admired... How could Jon possibly not feel insecure about himself? Wonder if the best he can invoke in people is just pity?

At least he's pretty certain a lot of people do. Yet... He dares to believe that Tony isn't one of them. That the man can genuinely enjoy his presence and maybe, hopefully, Jon can figure out what he can do for Tony in exchange for his presence, his attentiveness and those little pieces of affection Jon holds so dear.

Losing his glasses may not be one of the things Jon is overly fond of, but he knows he can trust Tony with them. Can trust him not to run off with them or plain break them to make fun of him. They are safe. And so is he. And somewhere between that second and third kiss a notable chunk of his doubts breaks away and Jon lets his hands be picked up for whatever Tony may have in mind for them - For now. He will need them if he wants to appreciate Tony's closeness.

Tony drew the hand he claimed up against his own shoulder to linger while he searched his way down Jon's neck, trying to find anything he thought could be made better under the brush of his lips and tickle of his nose, only finding the distinct ridge of Jon's scar, the scent of Jon's tea and Jon's anxiety, and the flutter of Jon's pulse, nothing that wasn't his and Tony wouldn't expect to find there. He had to drag himself away with another hum of consideration, turning his attention to Jon's hand as he turned his palm up to kiss his fingers, the lines furrowed across his skin and the soft pad at the base of his thumb to his wrist, and nuzzle his way up under Jon's sleeve as far as he could to spread his adoration up the delicate underside of his forearm. In the same low voice, he reported, "Not finding anything, boss," with another smile against Jon's arm, as he dropped his own hand down Jon's back to curl over his hip, thumb pushing under the hem of his shirt. "Let me see," he softly prompted again, leaning closer to crowd him back. Tony knew exactly what it was like to be the only human standing in a room full of gods, and he had also seen the same pangs of anxiety make more than a few Avengers withdraw, despite how magnificent he knew they were, too. It wasn't often his attention that could help them change their minds, that always seemed to take Steve or Thor or Carol, one of those shining lights to cast off their shadows. Tony could at least make sure he wasn't the one making their doubts any worse.

Every touch of those lips sends a shiver over Jon's skin and down his spine and maybe he does want to actually say something, but all he can do is sit, biting his lip and following Tony's path of electrifying kisses with his eyes. Maybe he should say something. Literally anyone could simply step into this room at any given time, right? Which would likely result with him dying of embarrassment. At the same time... It would at least be worth it.

Even though Jon still can't make much sense of Tony's commentary and merely gives him a puzzled look as his now free hand moves up from Tony's shoulder and around his neck, finding the loose strands of black hair there to toy with while he doesn't resist being urged back down by a mix of clever fingers and Tony's body looming over him.

It's then that he finally dares to ask, admitting that he isn't quite following this particular game "What- What are we looking for?"

Taking his task very seriously made Tony slow to answer, his hand pushing up from Jon's hip as he moved back to gather his shirt up his side and expose a strip of his soft stomach to Tony's searching lips. He worked his way deliberately from the pillow of Jon's belly to the hollow curve under his ribs, where he had to stop against his own wrist, where he gave a sigh of theatrical frustration then shifted to prop his head up in that hand and offer Jon a smile. "Any part of you that isn't extraordinary," he finally explained, not sure where Jon got lost along the way. There wasn't any 'physically better' for Tony, he had already very physically adored Jon and didn't think his conditions had been complicated. Tilting his head slightly, Tony let the smile fade to bite his lips between his teeth, brow furrowed with a concerned question, not sure if he had been looking in the right places for Jon to still be doubtful and confused.

The obviously very much intended delay between his question and Tony's answer is a delay filled outrageous torture of the calculatedly delightful sort. Especially if Tony is aiming to make Jon squirm underneath the tickling ministrations of his lips and beard on needlessly sensitive skin while Jon tries very hard not to let out the occasional giggle. Between a short gasp and a choked back snort Jon decides that he really needs to figure out where Tony's buttons are and how to push them... Should Tony eventually release him, that is. Though it's not that Jon's hands, now both situated in Tony's neck, give any indication that he wants to get rid of the man.

Tony's pause is a break Jon might well need at that moment and he glances down at Tony to meet his smile with a pair of wide eyes - Only to have his head fall back sputtering at Tony's reply, face burning almost instantly and muttering something nonsensical for a few seconds until the worst of the embarrassment has passed and he settles with a tone that suggests adoring defeat "...you're impossible, Tony. But... effective." Especially at wiping Jon's head clear.

Ticklish was, for once, not a surprise; Jon was sensitive in every other way to Tony's attention, generously satisfying him with a reaction like that vocal embarrassment to one innocuous comment that had Tony preening. It was, however, not a weapon to deploy too liberally should Tony want to keep it effective, so he carefully tucked Jon's shirt back into place before folding a hand over his stomach, just tugging at the creases in the fabric that strayed too close to his fingers. Now that he had Jon relaxed under him, the bag he had brought crowding the space on the bed with them, Tony asked very casually, "What'd you bring?," just taking stock of the supplies Jon had thought to take with him into a bunker for an unknown length of time.

And Jon is quite happy with being allowed to just settle, placing one of his hands over Tony's and idly brushing the man's fingers with his thumb as his attention is drawn to the bag and- He shrugs.

"Tape recorder, tapes... Some medical supplies we may have no use for. A notebook." Of course the tapes and his recorder remain the most important pieces. "I feel like I shouldn't have bothered with pre-recorded ones. This place may give half of us claustrophobia anyway..." So why waste the few meals he has left.

Before Tony made his grab for the bag, he offered, "I got your tea," and another quick nip to Jon's side through his shirt to leave him distracted while Tony dragged the gear closer. As he rifled through it with one hand, he continued absently, "Do you think it'll be that bad? It's not terrible, space-wise. Guess we'll see if everyone gets down here, though, it wouldn't be my first choice to host a party, do need some breathing room, but maybe it's just us, we could be alone down here for weeks..." Them and the few people Tony had walked in on already, of course, but his mind was elsewhere right now.

The mentioned tea and the jab to his side may work as a distraction for a short while, but Jon doesn't miss Tony going straight for the bag - And unfortunately he has an idea what he is looking for.

"I doubt we will have that luxury of being alone." Jon sighs with a note of disappointment and directs his attention to Tony searching his bag for what can only be drugs "Just try imagining this place filled with thirty people. Tensions are... Guaranteed." And where there are tensions, there waits a variety of underlying fears. "Now... Please. Stop searching my stuff? If you are looking for something specific... At least ask." Especially since most of what he has packed isn't labeled.

Who said he was looking for something specific? Tony's rummaging did slow, guiltily, and he drew out the next thing his hand closed around as though his intent really was just to invade Jon's privacy shamelessly and said, "No change of underwear?" Jon could have offered, too, it wasn't like a guy just got over being burned through his heart, please, but Tony hadn't worked out the effective technique to get the bottle out of Jon's hands once it was in them. "You know what, you're right, tensions. Probably won't need them. Why do you think I don't bother?"

"I told you I wanted to go back for another bag." Jon replies to the teasing question in earnest, even adding a little huff as he reached for the bag to pull it close enough to him to reach into it himself and pull out the mentioned notebook first, only to put it down flat and closed on the bed next to them. Then he reaches in again and pulls out a small, dark bottle filled with a liquid and sets it down on the notebook. He repeats this a couple of times producing various bottles in various sizes, with varying caps and glass colors. The final pieces are a few plain grey plastic containers that join the bottles, these ones containing pills.

With everything placed neatly on the notebook, Jon casts Tony a look that comes with a single, raised brow and Jon's adopted version of Tony's teasing tone.

"Do you want to guess what all these are?" It's not exactly his intention to chide Tony - Or to judge him.

Tony withdrew his hand to tuck back under his chin with a pout for this intervention, without even the treat of a good blush for the underwear, fingers on Jon's stomach starting to circle and hike his shirt up further again in minute movements as Jon arranged his display. The production wasn't that necessary, Jon had been working away like a mad scientist with his tinctures, Tony already knew that, he didn't care what else Jon was making, but he conceded to the performance with a sigh and half-lidded eyes as he scrutinized the containers like he could even begin to guess. With a small indication with his chin toward the first bottle, Tony decided, "Toner, obviously." Then down the line, "Eye cream. Retinol. Vitamin C. You'll need more moisturizer than that." The plastic containers, he thought, were familiar, and took his chance with a confident guess to snatch one up and tuck back under his chin. "Calcium?"

Jon doesn't interfere with Tony's hand on his stomach. It's nice enough as long as the man refrains from outright tickling him again - And he does settle with bringing his own hand to the back of Tony's head again to idly stroke his hair with a soft hum while Tony makes his guesses

"Most of it is actually the same." He clears up after a short noise of fond amusement. "Simple painkillers. Repeated attempts at different dosages and half of them will make you very tired. It's... It's easily the only thing we will need here. And my resources are limited." Very much so, even. His free hand moves to pick up a different one of the plastic containers and offers it out to Tony "Trade. I need the ones you took."

"That's optimistic," Tony replied skeptically, not sure he would be so confident about what they might need after the unexpected wrench of the whole door disappearing. Reluctantly, not sure if this was some kind of trick or Jon was genuinely offering to trade something useless that Tony had picked up for what he wanted, Tony allowed Jon to take the swiped container back and tucked the proffered one against his palm to curl a free finger around Jon's. "Who are we sedating," he inferred, "And for what nefarious purposes does the librarian need to know how to do that?" It had been-- not desperation, blind trust was a much more pleasant descriptor, that led Tony to accept anything Jon had handed him so far, but he had yet to hear the explanation for this particular skill set.

As long as they have magical healers for the emergencies, Jon sees no reason to run an entire pharmacy. That would only amount in a waste of time, energy and resources.

It's the finger holding his hand back that catches Jon's attention and he blinks once, then casts a quick glance over to his little assortment of drugs. He shrugs. "I... I originally wanted to work in that field? Studied for it. Becoming an archivist has never been something I aimed for, Tony. It just... Happened. I applied for the research job at the Institute not purely out of interest in the paranormal - I needed the money. And I hoped it would look good for future applications?" Then he simply remained stuck in research, unable to leave without even being aware of it. It's not the most fascinating story, really.

"And please don't worry about me sedating anyone here. I will only use those on myself."

That wasn't the first time Tony had heard a story like it, but being trapped in a dead-end job that wasn't the first choice and whatever kept Jon tangled up in this life he had stumbled into were very different things. Jon made it sound so normal, like he was just paying off the degree. It was the self-medicating that got Tony to stop toying with Jon's shirt, though, releasing his hand to fix Jon with a questioning stare. He had brought his little snacks, and he said himself that there was likely to be enough fear packed into this space to keep him sated, so Tony wasn't sure why he thought there was a need to knock himself out, unless this wasn't a bunker-specific solution of his. Tony pushed himself up onto his knees again, straddled over Jon's thighs to keep him pinned, tucking his own ill-gotten gains into his back pocket to free his hands. "Because you think you're going to hurt somebody?" he asked, "Or for the nightmares?" Tony looked as though Jon better have a third option, because neither of them were impressing him.

Tony's reaction is stronger than Jon has expected and it's all he can do to pull his hands and arms in and over himself almost defensively and stare up at Tony with wide eyes. "Tony, I just-"

He manages to cut himself off before panicking for the sole reason of being pinned down. He knows he has no reason to be afraid of Tony. That Tony wouldn't harm him. He is just worried. Reminding himself of this, Jon exhales and simply gives a small shake of his head.

"I just- I don't want to be constantly awake, Tony. It's quiet. It's lonely. And all I do is think. Just thinking. Day in, day out. I would love to spend some of that time with you, but- It's not something I can ask of you the entire time." Is this an acceptable response? Jon doesn't know. He's still struggling to fully justify this to himself and he can see how it may upset Tony - Jon would be upset, too.

The defensiveness isn't impressive, either, making Tony touch his tongue to his teeth, eyes narrowed in scrutiny of the posture that Jon hadn't taken with him before, even among all of the complaints for Tony's harassment. It made Tony ease back slightly, sliding closer to Jon's knees in a move that he hoped looked like he was just getting comfortable with a hand planted in the bed next to Jon's hip, gaze down apologetically for not noticing when they had taken this step back. Jon's self-consciousness might have been a hint, if he was paying attention. He couldn't just let Jon say something like that though-- he took on enough of an addictive disposition with his eating habits, he didn't have to start with the 'it helps me sleep' refrain with this now. "Have you started taking them?" Tony asked carefully. "I thought I told you, I had my methods, one to ten or whatever..." It was hard to remember what he had said to Jon then, it didn't seem as funny now.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject