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

The laugh may be unexpected, but it's a very good tool to lift some of that tension off of Jon, who still feels very much out of his element. And even though he isn't actively doing an awful lot at this very moment, Jon still feels that he is perfectly capable of doing even that wrong. So the pieces of reassurance and encouragement... They help. Especially at keeping Jon's mind in this moment and positively flustered as he blinks an eye open again to look down at Tony and-

Well, that sure is A look.

Jon finds enough time to swallow once and mumble an inaudible curse, not having a proper response for Tony's request at that very moment and any contemplations he may be having are put on hold when Tony moves to take him in deep, earning him a gasp and a fist clenched into his hair as Jon's hips seek to match Tony's rhythm, his free hand finding the edge of the workbench to hold on to for balance. Would it be terrible to tell Tony that Jon likes his mouth and all those things the man knows to do with it? Will Jon find himself able to return the way Tony is making him feel yet again?

He will have to find out.

But right now any proper though Jon may try to grasp is in shambles. Instead, Jon can't help but watch Tony, face equally flushed as enthralled, the hand he has in Tony's hair slowly sliding through his hair and down the back of his head towards his neck. There are a few noises he makes that may be interpreted as attempts at saying something coherent, however.

That Jon couldn't muster a verbal answer for once, not even a sputtering complaint, almost made Tony laugh again, but the tug at his hair had him sighing instead, head tilting attentively. Jon didn't really have to say anything, Tony could listen for the hitch of his breath to press his tongue again where Jon reacted, and massage the tension from his flank as Tony stroked his way up to reach more of him and tickled down his back. The rock of his hips made Tony slow curiously, eyes up again as he rolled his head back with the pass of Jon's hand toward his neck, but he hardly had the patience for himself, and his intent to find what Jon would take to satisfy himself with Tony's mouth was brief. Jon could take more, Tony was sure he could take more, and he pressed his head into Jon's hand to get him to push back before Tony was proving to them both what he could handle, the hand that had been working through the slide of Tony's spit spreading up Jon's stomach to flex blindly for purchase as Tony pressed his nose into Jon's dark hair. The stretch of his lips and his throat working around Jon as he swallowed had him shuddering hungrily, and hyperaware of the touch at his neck, the sweat he could feel tickling down his thigh and the aching heat from his chest to his cheeks, and he had to drop his hand from Jon's side to palm himself through his pants with a moan.

That Tony is more or less trying to figure out Jon's limits isn't a detail Jon is aware of at this point, even though by now he is rather aware of Tony's general tendency to seek out and breach limits where he finds them. His own as well as those of others.

There seems to be a very brief pause in which Tony pulls his head a bit further back. It doesn't last very long before Tony moves forward again, this time taking in the entirety of Jon's length which causes Jon to freeze in place, a sharp little noise stuck somewhere between a moan and Tony's name escaping him as he looks down, the nails of his hand digging in slightly at the base of Tony's neck in response. He's very glad to have chosen to hold onto that work bench with his other hand or his knees might just give out.

"...f-fuck, Tony...!" Jon manages between gasps and the hand at Tony's neck sprawls out again to massage away the little marks of his nails.

He doesn't get much further than those two actually understandable words before Tony's own moan reverberating through his throat and subsequently over Jon's flesh send a delightful impulse through his entire body draping a blissful numbness over Jon's mind again and having him join Tony's sound of pleasure with his own.

That breathless curse was obscenely hot, but Tony was well out of practice and couldn't get the air to purr his encouragement, instead letting the ache in his chest turn desperate before he was dragging himself back, hazy and lightheaded by the time he was letting Jon's length fall from his bruised lips. Even panting, he dragged himself closer to make up for the loss, both hands working up Jon's hips and his sides as Tony pushed up higher on his knees again, like he would either hold himself up or pull Jon down into him as he nuzzled his cock up against his belly to mouth careless, wet kisses along its underside. When he had the breath to manage it, he hissed, "That it?," and his shoulders shook with another brief laugh, abandoned quickly into another panting groan as he lapped at Jon's skin.

Jon finds himself breathless for several moments and all he can do is stare down at Tony even as the man nuzzles his way up Jon's body. And where Tony is undecided whether he wants to go up or down, Jon ends up making the decision for them this time by letting go of the work bench and allowing his legs to give in and gently nudge Tony back down with himself to settle down in Tony's lap and wrap his arms around him with a yearning sigh. "You... are something." Jon just mutters the first thing that crosses his mind.

Passing his hands up Jon's back as he slid down to slow his approach, catching him but not quite able to bring himself to stop him as he let Tony spread his adoration up his stomach and chest until he was nuzzling into his neck, Tony let himself be swayed back down onto his heels to welcome Jon in the envelope of his arms tucked under his open shirt. He shivered, both from the cold floor and the weight he couldn't quite rock against in his lap, squeezing Jon tightly to stop himself from tipping him back onto the stone to spread him out for Tony's insatiable attention, holding him carefully up off of the cold instead. "I get that a lot," he chuckled into Jon's throat, glad that this time it sounded positive, the tip of his nose and the burr of his beard tracing searchingly like he could find where he had abandoned leaving the mark there to drop to his knees. Around hungry nips to Jon's neck, Tony mumbled, "Not to downplay the fact that I was right, because I always am; thank you for that, beautiful, you're magnificent."

"...hmm." Jon hums against Tony's hair, letting his hands move down Tony's back while gently rocking against him. One of his hands meets the waistband of Tony's pants and trails along it with a small sigh in response to Tony's lips against his neck. Just how is it that Tony always manages to stay clothed while Jon ends up an unsightly mess... Part of him wants to apologize for that. To argue being called beautiful of all things. But another brush of those lips against his skin push those thoughts away. This is neither time nor place for doubt.

"...maybe-" He starts instead, closing his eyes before continuing with a rather daring suggestion. "-maybe next time... we can try not to end up on the floor." Assuming there is a next time. There may not be. What does he know? What can he hope? He can feel his heart pounding between his ears and knows his face is trying out different hues of crimson at the mere suggestion.

And maybe to distract a little from that potentially bold assumption, Jon finally has a verbal response for Tony as well, even if it's a timid one. "I- I like touching you. And- Being... Touched by you."

The potent cocktail of being rock hard and doused with shame did not get any easier to swallow with experience, and Tony was already cringing around the coil of it in his gut even before the sound of his own voice rang pathetic to him as he pressed his face to Jon's shoulder to mutter, "Sorry, you're right, I'm sorry." That wasn't a solution to the problem. He did know that doing this here was a terrible idea, and that he was moving fast and wasn't really thinking, those thoughts had occurred to him and he still had them both uncomfortable on the floor. The immediate fix was to scoop him up around his hips as Tony clambered to his feet, clumsy and stiff from the ache of kneeling on the cold, to limp the few steps to what was really the floor, but cozy. He knelt again to tip Jon into the pile of scavenged bedding that Tony slept on, and promised, "I can do better, this is...I'm working on it," with a smile before letting himself collapse on his back in the blankets next to Jon to catch his breath.

“Oh-“ That’s about what Jon manages to get out before Tony gets both of them off the ground, resulting in his mostly unclad form pressing against Tony as Jon holds on, a short noise of surprise escaping him, closely followed by a fresh blush in response to naked skin rubbing against a clothed, yet definitely warm body.

When Tony puts Jon down, the Archivist’s eyes are wide, his face is positively red, but he does recover quickly enough to take a quick look around. He appears a bit impressed, even.

And then he chuckles when Tony joins him. “Christ, please.... Don’t- Don't apologize! This-“ He gives the bedding a small pat and lets out a short laugh. “Actually pretty nice. We’d be doing a lot worse at the library.”

That said, Jon closes his mouth again and smiles before rolling onto his side and towards Tony. Having fully dropped his pants somewhere on the way over, he moves one leg over Tony’s and proceeds to push himself up enough to give him a soft, lingering kiss. One of his hands moves down to Tony’s pants and starts to undo it, now that there is more room to move and he can actually reach him. Another kiss follows and between that one and a third, Jon adds a little whisper.

“Don’t apologize. Not for this.”

Jon may apologize later for his utter lack in experience, but... Well.

"Are you sleeping at the library...?" While Tony was aware that Jon wasn't doing much sleeping at all, he had been somehow under the impression that he at least had...somewhere that he went. Maybe due to the amount of times Tony had snuck into the building to slowly spirit away the fragments of the data points and never spotted Jon, and had to recognize then that he never ventured beyond the first floor then. It sounded like they had both been cultivating some regretful personal space, and Tony started to laugh, too, at how miserably foolish that was before Jon was leaning over him. He hadn't really expected to get off after that complaint, it was the sort of comment Sunset would dismiss him with so he was appropriately thankful the next time she treated him to her attention, so he caught Jon's wrist with some surprise like he expected the move to be an attack, then stroked up to tickle back down the inside of his arm apologetically. Before he thought about that too hard and got the impression Tony could possibly want him to stop, Tony curled the other arm around his shoulders to pull his attention to his kiss, and Tony gladly responded to Jon's with a gentle scattering of his own.

The sudden grasp of his wrist is a surprise and has Jon stop for a very brief moment, a moment filled with the sudden doubt that Tony may not want to be touched by him. Which a certain part of his mind considers to be a reasonable response to Jon's somewhat uncharacteristic approach.

Thankfully, he isn't given much time to dwell on that thought as Tony pulls him in for another kiss that cuts away the little concern that weighted heavily on him and he can almost physically feel it drop away from his heart.

"I- uh.... I rest there, yes." He admits as he takes a moment to turn his eyes to where his hand is undoing Tony's pants quite clumsily, making him bring in his other hand to assist for eventual success. Please don't ask how many other people Jon has ever undressed in his life. "I actually got two blankets and- The basement is pretty labyrinthine and--" Jon has fallen into rambling a little while pushing Tony's pants down, then falls silent as he unearths his treasure.

And for a solid moment Jon stares, his mind trapped between absolute blankness and a thousand warnings to not make any mistakes. Once that moment passes, Jon quickly returns his attention to Tony and presses another kiss to his lips while the first of his fingers brush certainly too cautiously over the now exposed flesh. He has seen Tony do this. He can certainly... Mimic.

"L-let me. Please." Jon says softly, not entirely hiding the nervous tint of his voice just before he moves down Tony's body to end up sitting on the other man's legs, a look of nervous concentration paired with faintly trembling excitement on his face. Jon wraps a hand around the length before him, certainly more cautious than Tony may like, then bends down and after casting a look back up to Tony's face as if nonverbally asking for permission, plants a kiss right there on the very tip.

The struggle with his pants was enough for Tony to lift his own hand out of the way in surrender, far more patronizing in reality than actually trying to help Jon through this problem, and was charmingly distracting from whatever Jon had to say about the library. Basement, sure, whatever, Jon went quiet for a weirdly long time and Tony tried to prompt, "Are you...okay?" Graceless with some buttons, cute; shocked to horror by the sight of his dick, unnerving. His hand was still open in the air when Jon treated him to another kiss, and Jon's touch was slightly reassuring that there wasn't something monstrous going on with Tony that he should have been worried about, so he curled his knuckles against Jon's jaw to trace his thumb over his cheek, trying to ease some of those nerves. "I'm all yours, boss," Tony assured him with a grin, but was reluctant to let him go as he slid away, making him pass both of his hands through his hair restlessly for something to hang onto, then drag down his neck to fold together clutched over his heart. Maybe it was the way Jon was sitting on him, but he got the sense that he wasn't supposed to intervene when he really wanted to wrap all of his limbs around him to pull him reassuringly close and kiss the nerves out of him, and that was the longing expression Jon got for his question before Tony opened his mouth for only a soft gasp at the touch of Jon's lips. He had done this before, right? Being wound too tight was just his natural state. Maybe. Jesus christ.

The little gasp he gets from Tony is a good start, or so Jon hopes. He is literally stilling the trembling of his hand by closing it around Tony's flesh, an uncertain thumb slowly stroking up and down its side while Jon is quite literally trying to get a feel for it.

Tony made this look so easy. But the man is a lot less restrained than Jon is, who tilts his head to the right at first, then to the left, contemplating what angle might work for him. He doesn't know. But he knows he can't make Tony wait forever only because he's unable to decide. So he licks his lips in a testing way before carefully taking the tip into his mouth, not knowing what to expect. What he knows is that his own heart is hammering away wildly and that Tony's "I'm all yours" has sent a shiver down his spine Jon can still feel this very moment.

He doesn't do an awful lot at first. Mostly just getting used to the feeling of the tip of a solid dick in his mouth. His hand is making a few experimental moves up and down its length now, probably giving Tony the impression that Jon hardly ever even touches himself.

A little further up from his hand, Jon remembers that he ought to use his tongue as well and he runs it over the tip in his mouth just as experimentally as his hand around the shaft. Right. That's... That's how this is done. Sort of. He'll figure it out. He's watched Tony!

That stroke of Jon's thumb and the clutch around him that was just a little tight was already making Tony squirm impatiently, so the incredibly measured plan of attack just about sucked the air out of him as he tried not to start mouthing off immediately. That wouldn't help, that would definitely make this process go much slower if Tony ramped up Jon's nerves any more, but maybe if Tony pissed him off in the right way--He had to cover his face with both hands, sucking a slow breath in through his fingers, and fuck Jon just stopped again, this was some kind of test. It was the tease of his tongue that did it, making Tony arch his back then push himself up on his elbows, talking quickly; "Okay, Jonny, my heart, my darling, I can feel the gears turning and I do respect your process, but maybe we can talk through this. I'm going to ask you something and you're going to be straight with me and no one is going to be judged or on the spot or anything. Do you have any idea what you're doing down there?"

And Jon freezes again at the sudden movement, eyes going wide as he looks up at Tony and suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. A very particular brand of shame washes over him and Jon just wants to shrink away. It's his eyes that flick away first. Then, with a remarkably undignified pop noise he releases Tony and backs away guiltily.

"I- ah... I-i-I'm sorry." He doesn't look back up. Right. He has blown this one. And not in the way he has been supposed to. And he pulls his hands back into his lap, quickly wringing them together.

"... y-you make this look so easy." Jon finally admits, clearly embarrassed and not looking back up.

Mistake. Tony definitely didn't want Jon to stop entirely, and the shiver that shocked through him at the cruel abandonment to the cold air was his punishment, but he was obviously going to have to stop if Tony wanted to actually talk to him. Deep breath. "Hey, hey--" First of all, this position was not working, and Tony slid himself up enough to get one leg out from under Jon so he could brace his knee against him protectively as he nudged the other one up under him to encourage Jon closer while they dealt with this anxiety. "That's because I'm easy," he pointed out, and wrapped one arm around his waist as he pushed the other through Jon's hair, trying to get him to look up to Tony's smirk. "I said no one is going to be judged, do you feel judged? I'm sorry, you were doing fine, I swear, for someone who's never met a hard on in their life. That's the last one, I promise. I'm just trying to make sure you're enjoying yourself, it didn't seem like it, it felt like you were taming a snake. That one was it, that was the real last one."

Tony shifting his legs under him sure results in some awkward shifting on Jon's end until it's clear that Tony just wants him to move closer again. And yet Tony's words are very good at increasing Jon's embarrassment with the situation. So even if he glances up briefly, he is quick to grimace and cast a quick look away.

"It..... it was that bad...?" Does he really have to ask? Knowing that the answer is embarrassingly obvious already?

Jon brings one hand up to rub it over his face, feeling not only embarrassed, but also frustrated with himself. "I'm sorry. I- I just... I'm not--" The sentence isn't finished. There are too many things he feels he isn't. Tony may just pick his favorite if he is so inclined.

"Tall?" Tony tried with a less confident grin that didn't last, brow finally knitting into a frown, because if that was Jon's answer to Tony's concern, what Jon was not, was enjoying himself. He hadn't even treated Tony to his peevish look of determination for the teasing, and instead Tony was rubbing his back and combing his hair, and wracking his brain for a decent way to let Jon know that the sight of Jon's mouth on him for a fraction of a second and that obscene little noise he made was going to consume Tony until he died, and he was at peace with that. He went, "Hey," again, pushing his thumb under Jon's jaw this time, he was serious, stop looking away. "Tell me what you need." Maybe he had shot a little high asking about what Jon liked, they had to lay some foundation first. Tony could fix this.

"Well... That too, I suppose." Jon admits with a defeated sigh. He sure isn't tall. Or well-built. Or particularly good-looking. Or charming. Or-

He drops that mental list and lets his attention be directed back at Tony. Tony, who despite this obvious disappointment is acting so kind and patient rather than being mad or outright laughing at him. Jon really owes him this trust, doesn't he. That, and some honesty about what's already obvious.

"...I'm not good at this." Who would have guessed? "Actually- I-... Haven't." And a vague gesture follows.

That defeated look in Jon's eye was painful to confront, and Tony didn't know how to be more apologetic for causing it-- he should have just let Jon work his approach out, it probably would have been fine, he might have had more confidence about this if Tony had at least let him have that win under his belt, and Tony could have very much not teased him about it. Both of them, apparently, were in a position they didn't have much experience with, though that was less of an excuse for Tony's behaviour. He started to shake his head, trying another smile, at Jon's evaluation of his talents, and drew him in to kiss his face reassuringly, then huffed a laugh at Jon feeling the need to clarify. "Yeah, I gathered from your handshake..." he muttered, because he hadn't been trying to assure Jon that he was some kind of dick wizard. Tony wasn't a good cook, either, but he had only done it, maybe, twice in his life; some things took practice. Only, Jon hadn't really finished that statement and Tony leaned back to study his face again with some dawning horror and asked, "At all?" Jon's virginity wouldn't be a complete surprise, in retrospect, but there was plenty Tony would have done differently if he had realized. Like every interaction he had with Jon at all, for example.

“Oh, dear Lord, no! It- it’s not that bad!” Jon is overly hasty to clarify, but the response doesn’t come with a significant blush covering his face again. “I- I just... I don’t actively seek out these... Activities?” A short pause and an exhale and he adds a little more steady. “It’s very situational.”

It’s a bit of an odd conversation to have, for Jon at least. Then again, the entire situation isn’t exactly a usual one and he does draw a bit of reassurance from Tony’s small displays of affection despite h the e teasing. At least the teasing is something Jon is Familie with.

Letting out another long exhale after a matching intake of air, Jon finally brings himself to raise one of his hands to place it against Tony’s neck, the tips of his fingers lightly touching the man’s hair. “It’s been a few years...”

Thank god, the quick correction made Tony's shoulders relax, visibly relieved to not be completely responsible for fucking up Jon's first time, and maybe a little obvious that he was entirely prepared to believe this about him. He wouldn't blame the gal with the cat for holding out, the jeans had been really disrespectful. The broader explanation was more familiar; Tony was no stranger to being the exception for plenty of straight guys, but he was used to them being extremely pointed about that upfront, and thoroughly reminded of how much they loved their wives as they fucked him into the mattress. Or they miraculously happened to be Tony's one exception, too, and both of them understood not to address how Tony could deepthroat them like a savant. The expectations were very clear, was the point, and even now Jon didn't strike Tony as a wayward heterosexual.

Looking more confused than concerned now, Tony's hand stilled on Jon's back, going very light but not quite pulling away, the other not really getting the memo yet as Tony traced his thumb down from Jon's temple to stroke under his ear. "Do you want me to...stop?" he offered to try to work it out, because he had certainly felt sought out in that hospital back room, but it was possible he had read Jon entirely wrong and the guy had just been indulging him so far. "I mean, what, uh, situation...?" he tried, but really didn't know what to do with 'situational' at all. Tony's 'activities' were situational, too, he thought, if 'horny' could be a situation.

It’s Jon’s heart that freezes for a moment at Tony asking him whether or not he should stop, and the reaction is carried over to the slightly tightening grip of Jon’s hand on Tony’s neck. And he slightly shakes his head. “N-no. I don’t want you to stop, I-“ And he takes a deep breath. “Stress. Frustration. When I got wound up too tightly.... A coworker.... He helped me unwind a few times? It was rough. Sometimes too angry or too desperate. That- thing.”

And for a few moments Jon is silent again, his other hand now slowly moving up to settle over Tony’s heart. “I mean- I... possibly could call you a situation, but.... It’s different. I love you and- And I want to make you happy. I want to see you happy and maybe that can be in my presence. Maybe... I just. I want to try.” Happiness instead of fear. That... would be nice.

'That thing' also didn't mean much to Tony, but his confusion had shaded back into concern even as he tilted his head with the question because his brief experience with Jon's coworker's hadn't exactly endeared them to him, and he wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of any of their personalities being what Jon considered a welcome relief. Then he was shamefully apologetic again, this revelation bleakly colouring Tony's attempts at goading Jon into being rough and angry with him, making him not much more worthwhile than whatever coworker Tony was judging. In the moment of Jon's silence, Tony passed his hand up his back again to hug him closer and nuzzle his way under his chin, meeting his hand over his heart to thread their fingers together as he tried to figure out the right way to word that he wasn't trying to get Jon to snap at him in anger, really, only he kind of was, it was complicated, if Jon was using him to cope with stress and wanted to slap him around he definitely wasn't refusing; there wasn't a great way to excuse that now.

This wasn't a helpful thing to be worrying about when Jon was casually tossing out that he loved him. He sort of said it, before, and Tony hadn't been entirely sure that had happened the way he remembered it, so he found himself holding his breath while Jon just kept talking like he hadn't already said the sweetest possible thing to make Tony happy. "You do," he had to insist, tipping his head back to meet Jon's eye so he didn't miss Tony's smile even as he continued irrepressibly sardonically, "You already did. What are you worried about?" He pushed up to steal a soft kiss, and lingered there with his eyes closed, sharing Jon's breath and hoping he heard Tony's harmony in the intimacy, if not the chain around his neck or the multitude of other tiny gestures that Tony tried to show him his adoration. Did he hear him yet?

Tony has met some of Jon's coworkers, indeed. Not all of them, and none of those he worked with during his years in Research. There were no memories from that time that Jon has been able to find, but that may well be since he hardly has made any memories worth displaying from that time. He just spent a lot of time reading articles and disproving statements. He actually would like to go back to those easier times and the more predictable work.

But all of that lies in the past. In the past on a whole different planet. And at least over the past years of nearly dying Jon has shed off the worst of his temper issues.

Being pulled into that embrace and finding Tony lacing their fingers together stirred up a warmth in Jon's stomach and he even catches that smile that adds a little flip to the uproar his heart is still insisting to make. The kiss is sweet and gentle and Tony lingers before him, Jon now makes a move himself and fully embraces Tony with the one hand that isn't still entwined with Tony's. Burying his face in Tony's shoulder and taking a single, deep breath, Jon gives a short, yet accurate reply. "Everything."

And that's a simple truth: Jon worries. Pretty much the entire time and about everything. Not needing much to any sleep hasn't worked well with that particular habit.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I'm not sorry, but WELCOME TO THE AWKWARD TRAIN!!

bless u, plz be absolutely terrible

that's the plan~ <3

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject