revivalproject | delivery

Entry tags:

delivery

WHO: Tony Stark, Cloud Strife, technically open if you want to hang
WHERE: The forge? I don't know the structure of this post eludes me, it might be just network, I might just be setting up a bunch of interactions for Cloud to have with everyone else like a benevolent god
WHAT: Tony's been making things and has packages for Reeve, Tommy, Sansa and Jon, and he's not doing all of that walking himself.
WARNINGS: It is genuinely not my fault that all of Tony's posts are horny and you should just expect it now.

a text to Cloud

hey

where are you?

you want a job, right?

Come to the forge.

Outside of the forge, sitting in front of the closed door very pointedly, were five lumpy bundles, the wrapping of these clearly not Tony's strong suit. One of them seemed to be just in a big leaf. They were all labled with thin tags of impressed aluminum tied or just placed on top for Cloud to figure out where they were supposed to go with just a name-- the rest, like who any of these people were and where to find them, was Cloud's job to figure out, apparently.

At least one of them should have been pretty easy.

C L O U D
It was...a chocobo? Or how Tony remembered a chocobo looking from the glance at it in Reeve's memory. Small, grey and surprisingly heavy, it wound up to go bouncing away on weirdly articulated legs. Did Tony think he was paying Cloud?

R E E V E
It's a head.
This might be what Tony thought a cat skull looked like. It wasn't much like the design he had left for Mini-C's skeletal structure in Reeve's sketchbook, he obviously had some time, and the obsessive insomnia turned to 11 after the sleep glut and nowhere to pour his creative energy, to take a more detailed turn, and he would have used the energy to make more of the structure but they were still tight on materials. What he did make was a few servos, dangling from the skull shape like a disembodied nerve system, and a prototype pair of hands tucked safely into the dome, too delicate to be very useful to Mini, but responding to their programming housed in the skull. The systems were done, was the point.

T O M M Y
Was this what he meant by hydroponics? It wasn't like Tony had managed to miss that bit of drama on the network. It wasn't assembled, a bunch of disparate pieces that didn't come with instructions, but a note that only read 'you need a tube'.

S A N S A
This bundle had a pair of brass combs in it, stamped, much like the labels on the packages, with roses. If Sansa hadn't figured out how to keep her hair from being a mess, maybe this would be a reminder.

J O N
A very tiny little knot of a rag, about as big as the label that sat under it, and felt light enough to be empty.
It seemed to only contain a gold chain.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That...

[ Okay. That's... Unexpected. He's never really been at risk of losing his glasses and they aren't reading glasses either, so Jon's never even considered getting a chain for them. And now here he is, inspecting the ends of the chain and feeling a little like an old man as he pulls off his glasses to try and figure out how to attach the chain to them. ]

...it's not real gold, is it...?

[ Yes, that's a concern. Aside from the lighter sent to him by the Web, Jon has never owned anything made of gold. Or anything actually valuable. His laptop may have been the most expensive possession he's owned, and even that one had been a cheap model from the supermarket. ]

I... I mean.... Thanks.

[ Beat. ]

Thank you.

[Tony is going to get used to being thanked at this rate, the Avengers back home were not going to appreciate this new expectation when he got back, but until Tony has really worked it out he is still squinting skeptically behind his glasses, not sure if that deliberate wording was Jon's way of being sarcastic. He's putting it on, though, so...]

Yeah.

[He did send Cloud instead of delivering it himself for a reason, and that reason was he didn't really want to talk about it.]

Of course it's real. What else would it be? Do you think I'm sweating my ass off trying to make some junk nickel do that, just so it'll tarnish tomorrow?

[Purely practical, of course.]

[ Yeaaaah, this isn't exactly something Jon has ever even contemplated acquiring for himself. Here at least he has some contact lenses he can switch to if needed, but his glasses rarely leave his nose unless he deliberately sets them aside. So a chain for them- A gold chain... He will look ridiculous with it, won't he?

And then he nearly drops everything at Tony's reply, eyes snapping back to his phone. ]

W-wha-- what- what?!

[ Honestly, Tony. You should have seen this coming. Jon remains frozen for a moment, then thaws enough to look down at the chain and his glasses in his hand and finally snaps his attention back to his phone before reaching over with one hand to pick it up, a potentially familiar stubbornness settling on his face. ]

I'm coming over.

[ His voice says it clearly: Don't try to argue him out of that decision. ]

Far be it from Tony to not take a chance to argue, but the best he had then was, "What?," and knew he had not arrived to this debate prepared when he tried, "I'm busy, I've got--stuff," while he was clearly on his nest of fabrics watching the forge slowly burn down. Stupid video. He didn't even bother trying to support the argument, abruptly cutting the call with a frown to throw the phone across the bed then consider the disaster that was the workshop. It looked like he had body parts hanging from the ceiling on a good day, the gauntlet from their dive was dangling from a D.A.T.A. sphere like a severed hand from a balloon, and he had just manically crafted as much as he could in the last few days like a pressure release after being suppressed underground.

Shower first, maybe he could hide the worst of it under the stairs, it was pretty dark over there.

He hadn't even gotten that far by the time Jon made it down to his far corner of the city, distracted again at the workbench after he had shoved the molds for the chainlinks back into his nearby bucket of scraps in irritation. Of course Jon didn't want a chain, he wanted D.A.T.A. to finally be functional enough for the Agrii to use, it had been months and Tony still hadn't delivered. And the scraps of another abandoned interface, that could be in the palms of Cal's gloves...There was going to be another pile outside of Tony's door for Cloud to distribute at this rate.

Should Jon ever learn that Tony is worried about h the appearance of his workshop, he will gently remind him of a room basically cluttered with eyes. Upon reaching the forge, Jon mainly becomes aware how rarely he happens to find himself in his place and he enters the building almost cautiously, any plans on potentially scolding Tony set aside as he looks around for him while following what sounds he can pick up.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised to find him at his workbench, though the sight gets a brief sigh out of him and Jon steps up towards Tony, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about wearing a chain made of gold on his glasses despite the fact that Tony has been the one making the item for him. Tony put in the work and effort and thought and...

He stops his approach short from reaching Tony, fingers grasping onto the sides of his pants for a moment before Jon lets out an exhale. “So... Does it make me look like an old man...?” More like an old man may be more appropriate, but at that very moment Jon struggles a little with what to say, now that he can’t get himself to be upset anymore.

There wasn't much to the space to search around it; it was mostly one big room, anchored by the column of the forge cutting up through the middle and hiding the stairway up to the mesh catwalk above and the few doors beyond it. Tony's workbench by then had taken up most of the space, including vertically, spidering up to the catwalk where more loops of wiring and hung all the way back to the dark depths of the room. On the other side of the growing monster, back to the fire, Tony was filing the frilled edge of what looked like a flat coin intently, slowing as he caught sight of Jon's approach but sticking his tongue between his teeth like he hardly noticed, and really was quite busy and focused. This was where he worked, people didn't just come here, that Tony invited Jon to stay that one time was...extenuating.

"You had to trek down here to ask me that?" he muttered into his hands, but he supposed they were talking now and he could maybe blow the filings away to set his work aside and turn to assess Jon. Hand on his hip and head cocked, Tony started looking very serious to point out, "That's your posture, mostly," but was smiling by the end, not quite as fangy as usual. Jon had worn the gift at least from wherever he had been down to this corner of the city, he couldn't have totally hated it like his stricken little face had suggested, so his look of determination before Tony hung up on him felt less intimidating. It didn't quite suit him, but that might have been an environmental problem; surely, Jon didn't look as scruffy when they weren't on the edge of survival. He owned jeans, at some point.

“W-well, I.....” Jon starts, glancing sideways a bit awkwardly. “I originally wanted to yell at you? For.... for........ for wasting such material... on me.” He’s glancing down at the last part, then takes a deep breath and looks up. “It’s a long way here, though. And.... Guess I... You put a lot of work into this. And thought. And...” He shrugs with a little smile now. “Guess I decided I rather want to thank you. If I already come here and... It’s nice. Not something I thought I’d ever own, but...” Another awkward pause. “Thanks, Tony. I’ll try not to lose it.”

Tony was already trying not to grin at Jon's first impulse, mouth twisted to the side and not hiding it very well, not sure where this stilted speech was going but apparently enjoying watching Jon stumble through it. The yelling was what Tony had anticipated, and while not ideal in this case, noted for the next time he was trying to goad Jon into a fight for the attention because his other methods had been duds lately. Even around his smile, he had to squint questioningly as Jon looked away, hoping that this meant the fresh air made him realize 'wasting such material on me' was ridiculous, and not only because Tony found it on the ground like he found anything else around here. Gold really was the most practical material for the usage, and Tony just happened to like it a lot, for the benefits, obviously, to Jon, practically.

Waving off his thanks, still not really sure what to do with it because Tony was trying to thank Jon with the chain, he said, "Of course not, then your glasses would be gone, that's the whole point," and rolled his eyes, duh, before finally releasing the grin. "It looks great, you look great," he finally assured Jon dismissively, looking away himself then as he took Jon by the shoulder to lean close and only hesitate for a moment to make sure he wasn't flinching before welcoming him properly with a peck to his temple.

Chances are good that Tony will do something a lot more stupid than fashioning an unusually fancy gift for Jon to have a much more appropriate reason to yell at him. This initial irritation has been easy to walk off.

"It's still a bit posh." Jon remarks as he accepts the welcome with a little smile. It's not a complaint, though. Just very unlike his usual, a little run down style. He has had a phase of trying to appear proper and adhere to the Institute's dress code, but that intention didn't quite survive him nearly getting eaten by worms. He still likes to keep himself moderately presentable, at least.

And it's then that Jon allows himself a more proper look around the forge, tilting his head a little to peek over Tony's shoulder. "What are you working on?" Tony just keeps finding new projects for himself. It's no wonder he got restless while they were all locked up.

'Posh' might have been one of the nicer ways to describe Tony's taste and he breathed an unsure laugh, giving Jon's shoulder another pat apologetically for not considering a look he might have preferred. What Tony was working on was a big enough question to keep them occupied for a while, though, and Tony went, "Ah..." as he turned back to the bench himself, trying to plot an abridged version. The coin was as good of a place to start as any, and he picked it back up with a shrug to offer, "For Cayde, he had cards underground, but nothing to bet with, I thought he could use some chips. I don't know, it's--I tried to make him a guitar," he gestured up to the sanded pieces of the instrument's body fairly high up on the scaffolding connecting the bench to the catwalk above, "but I don't know if he can play, that might just be for me, I just keep thinking about the--I know I should be making him more bullets, but the powder is not easy to pull together." So, that was Cayde, and now that he said it out loud Tony was pouting and flicked the coin into his scrap bucket as well. He could come up with some gunpowder if he wasn't wasting so much time. Moving along quickly, he pointed to another half-finished piece hung from the display that looked like a shower head, "Housewarming present for Catra. She didn't really use the bathroom while she was here, though. I don't think she likes water very much. Maybe she'll just get some of these." With a kick, he indicated another contained under the bench, this one full of slightly lumpy looking tools that had obviously been Tony's interim construction as he built the sleeker looking ones on his worktop that he was using. "No, I'll make her better ones, those are..." Scavenging through the factories took some delicate work sometimes, Catra would need reliable tools. With a deep breath, slightly irritated with himself but glad Jon was here to bounce this off of before he had committed to these terrible plans, Tony went on, "Cal's diving gear," with a point to what looked more like a web of flat wires that kind of looked like a pair of gloves, then scanned through the rest of what was hanging within reach, trying to find something else that Jon might actually care about that wasn't a bunch of jetboot prototypes, gauntlets, a few faceplates and a chestpiece that Tony knew was going to be scrap as soon as he actually worked out a system that could power a whole Iron Man suit. "Hey--" he said suddenly, turning back to Jon. "You never told me why you had an Iron Man. I thought the Hulk would be more your guy."

And Jon follows the explanation with interest. It|s hard not to notice that Tony is working on a lot of things to plain give away to people he cares about - And Jon is quite positive that Tony will deny it should the Archivist call him out on that, regardless how obvious it is. Which makes Jon smile softly while letting his eyes trail over the presented items as well as the unmentioned ones. Most of these have practical uses. Are meant to be of actual use to the intended receiver. And here he stands, with a purely decorative golden chain that has been assigned an alibi to exist. Curious, right?

Stepping forward, Jon has come to idly wind a small piece of the chain around one of his fingers while scanning the room for all its curiosities. He doesn't miss the attempts at pieces of the suit, yet doesn't point it out. Though his head briefly snaps i that direction when Tony brings up the action figure. And for a moment Jon simply freezes, before remembering that Tony has found the one in his mindspace much rather than the one he keeps at the library. Which is... Better. He can blame that one on the comics, but explaining the one he keeps posed on his desk may be trickier. At least Jon has started to move his office in the library in a separate room.

The assumption makes Jon huff a little. "The Hulk. The big green one." He makes a small, dismissive noise. "No thanks. You- You have seen Jared Hopworth." And that's all he has to say about the Hulk. He follows it by a vague gesture with the hand not still half tangled in the chain, deliberately turning to look somewhere other than Tony while fishing for what he can sell as a rational approach. "I- I mentioned the comics, right? And, uh... I just... Like? That- Iron Man. H-he's the only one sensible enough to wear an actual armor?" Oh, that's weak. Even Jon grimaces a little, but his eyes find the guitar overhead again and he points up. "Sooo... Can you play it?"

That wasn't a fair comparison, Tony thought, and almost started to defend the Hulk's honour, only stopping because he wasn't sure how much Bruce actually appeared in any of the comics, and considering that maybe he wanted to shoot the guy who took Jon's bones into space as well. Fair. It didn't take Tony nearly long enough to come around on this to have missed Jon's unconvincing argument, making him narrow his eyes suspiciously with a confused, wry smile, definitely not buying that he would have asked Billy for an action figure to write an essay on because he thought the Iron Man looked sensible. Tony had never been accused of that in his life. Besides, there were plenty of Avengers that wore armor, and one of them was guaranteed to appear in those four colours. Giving Jon something of a reprieve to come up with a better answer, Tony turned to vault himself up onto the workbench, carelessly kicking tools out of his way to reach the guitar mounted above, while pointing out, "Cap wears armor. Has a whole shield."

The guitar came down in not entirely one piece, not polished or finished in any way, the neck unattached and just slotted into place as Tony sat with it on the edge of the worktop, but he had already strung it to make sure it did actually work. It took a brief tuning after an experimental strum, and Tony took the chance to continue, "Just an aesthetic preference, hm?" with a fangy grin and knowing nod, obvious what he might have meant by 'aesthetic'. Jon wasn't given the chance to explain his perverted fantasies, though, as Tony quickly played through the bridge of his chosen track to find his chord, which might have been plenty of warning for Jon before Tony was singing, "Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find..." He barely got through the first line without the laugh creeping into his voice, but it wasn't an entirely terrible one, for an acoustic ABBA rendition, just not very practiced. He wasn't the one that lead a band in the room. Which might have been why he looked so expectant, getting his giggles under control by the time he got to, "It used to be so nice, it used to be so good..."

It was going to be heartbreaking if Jon's planet didn't have ABBA, that would be intolerable and he might have to leave to give Tony some time to cope with that. Or maybe Jon's musical tastes were all weird, medieval storytelling, which could have been worse.

At the time being, Jon won't just admit that he asked Billy about Tony and ended up obsessing over an action figure of him the mutant created to give Jon a few visuals. It's a lot less about Iron Man even than about Tony being Iron Man.

He gives the tiniest of shrugs at Tony's prodding. "Captain America is your hero, not mine." Which is, in fact, very true. Jon didn't grow up with those stories. He doesn't have the same relationship to these people. And judging by the material he has, Jon finds Captain America to be a character that is hard for him to relate to. Always portrait flawless, strong, a natural leader admired by everyone. Iron Man, or much rather Tony... Jon knows Tony. He has come to meet his flaws as well as leaping right between two fighting mutants to keep them from harming one another. And all that without the suit. Without any armor or super powers or increased reflexes. Yes, maybe it was reckless and to a degree foolish, but...

He still gives a brief sputter and looks away at Tony's aesthetic preferences. For a moment, at least. The tune played on that rough looking guitar catches Jon's attention. It's indeed a song he knows, but nothing could have prepared him for Tony suddenly starting to sing. Jon plain stares for the first few lines. A mix of surprise and maybe a little amazement and- Well, he may have to admit that he enjoys this unfamiliar image of Tony trying and for a good part failing to keep a straight face through his performance. But it's a wide and openly happy expression that settles on his face after that and Jon has no qualms to join in. "So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me - S. O. S. ..."

Tony's surprised laugh at least suited the mood of the chorus better, and he didn't work as hard to try to control it with Jon doing the heavy vocal lifting for them until Tony played them out, not sure enough about the lyrics of the second verse to continue to lure Jon into a performance for him. Surprised because, first, he was glad they weren't going to have an ABBA crisis, and second, because he really didn't expect Jon would have that much enthusiasm for him even if he was picking up what Tony was putting down. The smile that Tony usually teased out of him could best be described as 'long-suffering', and as much as Tony didn't think he would get tired of that one, the expression he had for a brief disco interlude warmed Tony to his fingertips and had him biting his lip around his own grin as watched Jon curiously. There was going to have to be a serious cultural shift around here if music was what it took to get Jon to release like that, there was enough of them around, someone had to have a few hidden talents.

It had been far too long since Tony had plucked his last string before he realized he was just leaning on the bench and staring and he hadn't even answered Jon's question, so he suddenly said, "A bit," before carefully gathering his semi-complete guitar to prop up on his table. Feeling that stretch of silence all at once made the flutter of his heart feel like panic and he babbled, "I thought it would be nice for Cayde's bar, I keep thinking about it and I know I just am thinking about having a drink, really, but he asked me for the bullets and I'm not coming through and it's this cycle, is that weird, do you get that? Listen--I know I haven't delivered for you, either, I'm sorry, I'm working on it, it--I'll make it up to you, but you don't have a bar, you're a whole different..." Deep breath. "Problem."

Well, it's a nice little musical change from everything this planet likes to pile on them. And Jon finds that he enjoyed this excuse to set aside concerns and worries and- Do something he isn't only good at, but in theory even enjoys. At least when he doesn't have to entertain an audience. In this case the only audience has been Tony, and Jon is fine with that.

He releases a short, cheerful sigh into the silence and seals it with a very short chuckle before catching sight of Tony's staring, which in turn calls forth that by now a little familiar heat creeping to his cheeks. "You're good with it." He manages to say just barely before Tony tumbles down his little trail of ramblings. Which has a similar effect on Jon as the man's earlier hardly controlled laughter. He starts out looking a little surprised, but settles into a fond smile easier than before and he steps forward to where Tony is still sitting on his workbench. Because if Tony has been bothered by the silence between them, Jon is finding the distance just about as bothersome. It's not a verbal response he has for Tony to his rambling. Jon simply moves to stand before him so he can reach up and place his hands around Tony's face and pull him down into a kiss.

If he's going to be a problem, then he's going to be Tony's rather specific problem.

As though he definitely did not, Tony was mumbling, "I get it, stop talking, I'm still talking," as Jon reached for him, even as he gladly bowed without any more prompting than Jon's step up into his space and was muttering against Jon's mouth. With a snort of a laugh and a tight nod, no really, he did get it, he reached blindly to get any hold on Jon before he withdrew and Tony lost his chance to make up for ruining his gesture with a proper kiss in response, grasping his wrists first then the front of his shirt to keep him close. "You don't have to thank me. Did I say that yet? You don't," he said, though his hold didn't ease at all because he was enjoying being thanked, if that was still what this was. He'd take what he could get. "I just, you did a lot for me, before, with Billy and everything, and I didn't really say anything, I don't think." Not anything meaningful, surely, that was actually for Jon, and not just Tony pawing at him hoping he was understanding, like that was any different from his usual pestering.

This reaction is a little more peculiar than Tony's usual reactions and Jon wouldn't say it's a bad reaction. It may just be Tony having overworked himself that left him so scattered all over the place, and yet this babbling has only really started after the guitar. And in its very own very peculiar way, it's an endearing way of a scattered mind.

So while Jon is clearly surprised, he makes no attempts of pulling away. Instead, he looks briefly down at Tony's hand keeping him close, then back up at the man's face. His hands have come to rest on Tony's legs, one lightly sitting on one of Tony's knees while the other come to slowly to rub reassuring little circles into the other leg's upper thigh.

"What if I want to thank you. Would that be... Dreadful?" It's not really a question. He indicates a tiny shrug. "Think of it this way: Every time I thank you, I have a reason to talk to you. Maybe see you. And maybe even touch you. I..." The sentence hangs unfinished fora few seconds, then Jon gives Tony's knee a little squeeze. "-I quite like thanking you. I like being with you."

The question made Tony laugh again, a breathy chuckle that he wanted to press back against Jon's lips and had to bite his own against the temptation as Jon continued, taking his time apologetically spreading the creases out of his shirt across his chest instead. This wasn't helping Tony feel any less scattered, and had to try to anchor himself with a loop of his arms around Jon's neck as he tried to figure out how to follow up 'touch you' like he could possibly offer Tony anything better, giving a nod of encouragement with an enthralled grin. It was just this space, much like Tony's workshop back on Earth, that he wasn't used to having anyone in and felt about as intimate as having Jon in his head, making the ever humming wire of Tony's tension tighten as he got closer. He had to deliberately pull against it to tip his forehead against Jon's with a squirming smile--okay, that was pretty good, the follow up wasn't a let down.

"You don't need a reason," he promised apologetically, because clearly Jon did, but Tony was working on it, he wasn't actively avoiding, he was just...busy. "But, for the record, I did thank you first, just so we're clear," he laughed, see, working on it, as he pushed the arm of Jon's glasses up over his ear until they fell to hang against his chest. Tony tilted his head as though he had just revealed his most ingenious invention and deserved applause, thanks. Now they had every reason to make out without worrying about where the glasses were going to end up, Tony couldn't have planned the product roll out better himself, he did earn the kiss he drew Jon back up into.

Jon can perfectly understand the weird feeling of having someone in a work space that usually tends to be a private place. Which is one reason for Jon having decided to set up a proper office space in one of the back rooms of the library. And so far not a single soul has set foot into the building's basement to see - and potentially judge - what the Archivist has been turning that space into.

He blinks once when Tony brings their foreheads together. It's a gesture he's becoming familiar with and he casts a little smile upwards, enjoying the closeness and the laugh and simply breathing a short "...aight." in response to Tony's words, blinking twice more at the loss of his glasses, yet not complaining. Well. He may not need a reason, but Jon will always have one. And he informs Tony about as much in a barely audible voice as he's pulled into a kiss, his hand moving up on Tony's thigh up to his hip in a faux display of seeking balance. "You're reason enough."

Maybe it wasn't the space, Jon had already been in his head and that invoice had cleared and Tony wasn't really feeling defensive, maybe it was the warm way Jon kept saying things like that and his smile while he sang that was fracturing Tony's focus because it was gone again. He had brought his hands around Jon's face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks and intent to kiss him breathless, sighing happily into the taste of him, only to snap away suddenly and announce, "I know your karaoke song." Besides ABBA, of course, which was the only good karaoke choice, easily, but Tony was so confident about what the tone of Jon's voice reminded him of that he added, "I'd bet you anything, if I'm wrong I'll get on my knees right now," and started to laugh again. "And if I'm right, I get to suck your dick." He did at least swipe his thumb over Jon's lips apologetically for the aborted kiss as he chuckled and raised his eyebrows expectantly. He would admit to his important discovery once he got confirmation.

Maybe Jon should have gotten used to those sudden interruptions by now, but he still blinks up at Tony somewhat stupidly, especially with the other man still having his face in his hands.

Now that is one peculiar train of thought to suddenly get shoved onto and it's that final remark that brings a familiar heat and to Tony probably familiar color to Jon's face. Jon may not be remarkably creative, but that's not a mental image he's having much trouble summoning up by now. And the way the fingers of his hands dig into Tony's thigh may be telling.

"My... Karaoke song." He repeats in an attempt to put his own mind back on track now. And all Jon does is raise his own brows quizzically.

"You know, your track, the one you pick every time you..." Tony started to try to get Jon on board with the concept, only to shake his head as it became clear that Jon was not following. "Oh my god." Despair. "Why does no one take you out? Honestly. Look at you. Okay, for the record, I'm right by default," he said, sounding exasperated but starting to smirk, because of course he was right, even if it was by technicality, and his prize scale was rigged anyway. Theoretically, Jon might be able to provide his fantasy karaoke song, if he had friends, but that wouldn't invalidate Tony's success.

He glanced back to the guitar, but that was going to be useless, this was a synth dependent experience so he dismissed it quickly to just demand, "Tell me you know this one, okay?" Soft Cell was a pretty big leap from ABBA, but Tony still had confidence that their Earths did not divert here and Tainted Love had to be Jon's song in a reality that he spent any time socializing, and he only set him up with, "Sometimes I feel I've got to--"

Jon does, indeed, not quite follow at first. Karaoke, while something he has heard of, wasn't really something he did growing up. Pretty much everything that cost money wasn't something Jon did. And Tony has seen Jon in his younger years. He wasn't exactly someone people desperately wanted to take anywhere unless their intentions weren't quite in line with what Jon felt comfortable with. So when Tony reacts... Shocked? Jon winces a bit and is about ready to apologize.

But then Tony shifts away from that moment of disappointment with an ease that brings Jon right back around to being puzzled. Curious, even, when Tony seems to consider the guitar and the expectant question only serves to raise Jon's anticipation. He doesn't even know just how tense he has been winding himself in these very few moments until Tony offers his answer in the shape of the beginning of the first verse of his chosen winner.

The answer Tony receives is a lot less verbal than he may be used to from Jon and instead a lot more visual. Jon's eyes widen with instant recognition and a significant part of him just wants to crumble right were he stands. Trust in Tony to pick a remarkably strong candidate Jon would find hard to argue with. His face may have managed to turn an even deeper shade of red, but rather than properly picking up on Tony's setup, Jon stammers something incoherent and pushes his head forward to press his face into Tony's chest, at that moment very glad that Tony pushed down his glasses earlier. And he takes a moment to just laugh in something like quiet relief - And maybe a hint of regret.

"I never-" He finally tries to answer properly despite not having stopped chuckling entirely. "Karaoke, just... Didn't. Happen..." A pause. "...unfortunately." Another pause, and a deep breath. Jon's hands have moved up from Tony's legs to curl into his shirt instead. "...Christ. That's a- Fine. You win. It's a win." Does he feel called out? Yes, he feels called out.

That was fine, Jon didn't have to sing it for him, Tony knew in his heart that Jon had the exact right voice for it and the instant recognition with the bare setup was enough to throw Tony out of it, too. He was laughing hard instead by the time Jon tried to bury his red face against him, gladly accepting this misery of being known in a reassuringly tight wrap of his arms, ankles locked behind Jon's legs, as though he hadn't also been the cause of it. He only released the hug when it seemed like Jon was trying to say something, taking him by the shoulders instead and already muttering with pride, "That was good, right? Got it in one," while Jon explained his karaoke inexperience. Tony had gathered as much, which was a shame and made him give Jon's hair an apologetic pat for not being around somehow to take care of him. Now they were stuck in the wild west, Tony could hardly make up for lost time. "We'll hit up a karaoke place when we get out of here, get you good and lubed up and see what comes out. Maybe you'll start threatening people again, is that just who you are when you get on a stage? That's why no one invited you, you're a menace."

Jon can sing it for Tony at a later time. For now he will cling to the man until he has sufficiently calmed down and trusts his face to not be one step away from imploding entirely on him. He doesn't quite lean away, however. Not when he can linger a moment longer to take in Tony's scent and presence and just listen to his voice. Right. When they get home... They aren't bound to forget. Jon has had that confirmed by now. So what Tony is saying is entirely possible. And that's what makes Jon smile.

"...you only want to see me yell at strangers." Jon remarks without looking up, but with an audible grin. Granted, karaoke may not be necessary for that, but he might enjoy it? Though with Tony present, who can really say how much actual karaoke is even going to happen.

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