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.

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Jon melts a little into that touch, letting some of that deeply-set tension be pressed away. It certainly helps calming him down and keeping his thoughts from drifting into an unhealthy downward spiral.

Though he does shake his head a little bit at Tony's words, not really willing to push away. "...you make it sound like something dreadful. I- don't mind doing that for you." Just a bit of a confession. "If you... want me." Just putting that one out there as well. "I... can learn." Given some time and patience. But obviously Jon quite enjoys just being together like this.

Burrowing his nose into Jon's hair again, Tony searched his way down to his ear to purr, "Any way I can have you," teasingly suggestive enough like he meant to encompass a few adventurous positions and not just that he would continue to hopelessly adore Jon even if he never touched him again. That would be painful, certainly, and the idea of thoroughly arduous lessons purely for Jon's edification, of course, however long it took, aligned much better with Tony's libido, but that wouldn't be the first gap that he found honey in. Very carefully, he slipped his hand from Jon's to curl around him and tip them back into the bedding, holding him like a fragile wire that he incrementally brought down against his chest so Jon could get himself comfortable and didn't go squirming away in any lingering embarrassment. "Listen, if that other guy wasn't into it, I mean, his loss, is that why? Is that the only guy you've been with?" It didn't sound like a super healthy relationship, and Tony knew a few things about the kind of damage that might leave a guy with that he would want to try to smooth out.

The purr sends a fresh shiver down Jon's spine. Not in a bad way, by any means. And the small noise he produces tells as much. The noise drawls off into a sigh when Tony wraps both arms around him, leaving Jon's hand behind between them and gently resting over Tony's heart. Which is one of those things that are very high on Jon's list of things he wishes to protect at any cost. As for Tony's choice of words... Well. Jon won't argue massively. Maybe he will argue against the prevailing blush on his face deepening a little in response.

Jon allows being pulled back down easily. The fact that Tony decided to hold him close may have had an encouraging effect on the decision. He does indeed get comfortable, then glances up at Tony's question before making a noncommittal noise and glancing away.

"He was. The- Only one, I mean. We were friends. Still fought plenty. Usually because I kept staying at work... Much longer than would be healthy - According to him. And I- I don't know if he was... Into it. He never made any requests and I never... offered? We didn't really talk- During. It was unprofessional. We worked together..." Will he regret telling Tony these things later? Jon wouldn't know. At least not at this moment. But he wants to trust Tony.

While Tony wasn't typically in the habit of requiring a full diagnostic history of a partner's sex life, it couldn't have much impact on him and he couldn't possibly have the patience for it, and any attempt on his part to reciprocate was consistently discouraging, based on what little he ever did share with anyone, this broader context of Jon's experience did help Tony get a handle on the expectations, he thought. He understood that coworker much better, anyway, although as Jon settled on him and Tony marveled at how he really didn't weigh much at all, making the skim of his fingertips down Jon's back a ghostly tickle like he was worried any touch might leave a mark, he couldn't imagine any impulse to be rough with him. There must have been a time he had more meat on him and weighed at least as much as one of Tony's girlfriends, when he was eating better and not scavenging in an alien apocalypse. Maybe one of Tony's girlfriends in college; they tended to at least do a little weightlifting since then.

"So, you would pull your usual asshole routine," Tony summarized, "while he tried to take care of you, until you both got frustrated enough that he let you bang it out so you would calm down, and you never talked to him about it. Have I told you this week that you're a terrible listener?" Despite the insults, Tony was still tenderly brushing the knuckles of his other hand over Jon's cheek and walking his fingers back up to his hair to repeat the motion.

The sound that follows those words more leans towards a little grumble mixed into a sigh and this time Jon turns his head to actually face Tony. "It's how I have come to get by, Tony." It's hardly an explanation and even less a good excuse. But it is, nonetheless, the truth.

"Believe it or not, I was genuinely afraid of losing this job I needed to pay rent and continue living in London at that time. Thinking about it now it feels ridiculous, I'm aware. No, I wasn't prepared for anyone to genuinely try to befriend me. At all. That- Hasn't been a problem I have had to deal with before. Maybe I handled it poorly, but..." There's another sigh and the indication of a shrug as Jon lowers his head back onto Tony. "I'm... Sorry. For unloading on you again."

"Don't apologize for that, I thoroughly enjoyed it," Tony said lightly, before adding as though he wasn't entirely aware that Jon was being dispirited as ever, "Oh, you mean this part." He scrubbed his fingers through Jon's hair to keep him from grumbling again, joking done, promise. That poor guy back in London was probably still in love with Jon, Tony thought, and wondering if he was sleeping like Tony did sometimes as he stared at his own ceiling. It probably didn't have the same implications for him. "I do appreciate you telling me this stuff," he tried, and even that felt clumsy on his tongue so Tony supplemented it with another pass of his thumb along Jon's jaw. "You're not an easy puzzle," he did realize sounded dehumanizing, but he took a breath before he continued, unable to hammer out a phrase that fit easier in his mouth than, "I want to fix it for you." Jon didn't even have to do his magic tricks to get Tony playing with that fire, and he released that deep breath all at once as he brought his hand up to cover his own face, frustrated.

There's a sputter and a little bit of a glare, but the fingers Tony moves through his hair soothe this initial reaction back into a mild frown and from there into a set of slightly raised brows. Though he is glad that Tony isn't upset with him again and Jon's expression slips into a thankful one before a mild confusion has him blink.

Being compared to a puzzle is new.

The menace he has gotten used to by now, but a puzzle... And yet that's not even the part he finds the most obscure. "Fix... what?" Jon finds himself asking dumbly, a single finger of his one hand drawing a small, curious circle into Tony's side while the other feels tempted to nudge at the hand Tony has placed over his face. This is a sentence Tony could very well be meaning entirely literal. He's always fixing something, isn't he? But in this context it's a curious one. Unless he is offering to fix what he deems to be amiss with Jon himself.

It hadn't even made sense to Jon, great. But it was making plenty of sense to Tony, making him try to breathe through a panic that his usual tactic of adding more words to displace it definitely wasn't going to help, not when he was trying to seem somewhat normal and stable. If he let all of that out at once after not having a meeting to go to in however many months, he wouldn't want to be around himself, either. Not that that was anything new. He squirmed at the ticklish ministration to his side, then stole Jon's own tactic and huffed, "Everything." Jon worried about everything, and Tony was there to fix it. Neither of them could judge the other too harshly now.

No, Jon can't judge Tony for that response, but he also isn't too surprised. Instead, a certain concern crosses his face. And it's not regarding the question of whether or not Tony wants to fix him as well.

But he doesn't exactly miss that increasing anxiety.

The hand at Tony's side stops and shifts into a steadying hold as Jon raises his head and his other hand moves up to settle at the side of Tony's face, his thumb stroking up Tony's cheek in an echo of the other man's prior action. "Tony. Are you alright?"

"Always," Tony replied with an automatic smile, closing his eyes to lean into Jon's hand, then kissing his fingers dismissively, he was fine, that was enough. He pushed his own hand back through his hair, the other curling around Jon's shoulder like he might push him down again, but didn't bother trying to make the smile stick. Instead, because it wasn't come kind of revelation and Jon didn't have to be worrying about it, he admitted in a rush, "It's just, I hate that-- I want, I want; I want a lot, too much, it's pathetic. It doesn't really mean anything. Of course I want, what else is new?" Saying it more wasn't taking the sting out of it. "And I feel like if I don't say it, somehow, I won't get obsessed this time, like that's possible, I can just ignore it. Hasn't worked yet, by the way. Not a very scientific practice." There, that was all Tony was worrying about, a few meaningless words. He put his smile back on, tilting his head to try to look down at Jon reassuringly.

The answer isn't entirely convincing and neither is the smile, yet Jon opts to not press the matter too much. The rest is... Well. Of course Tony wants a lot. Most notably he wants to help everyone and fix everything. Those are the most obvious things that come to mind for Jon, but these aren't qualities he would consider pathetic. And Tony says that he wants a lot, so those two points don't seem to be the only ones.

"Tony, I-" And he pauses a moment, then continues with a slightly softer tone. "I already told you what I want. And right now I... I also want to help you. If I can. So please tell me if there is anything you want from me that I can offer to make you feel better." He still feels like he is feeling around in the dark, but this is an offer Jon doesn't hesitate to make.

How did they get here? They were supposed to be talking about Jon's thing, his weird sexual hangups for Tony to watch out for and not push too hard anymore, and Tony's obsession with him and these details was worthlessly tangential. "You are, you're already doing that," he insisted, and gave another squirm as a warning before he was rolling them over so he wasn't trying to look down his nose at Jon. Tony tipped him onto his back to push himself up on his elbow, arm pillowed under Jon's head and the other stroking up from where he Tony carefully deposited the weight of his hip, across his stomach to his chest to restlessly arrange the chain against his collar. "Don't stop telling me about you, any part of you, and trust me to fix whatever you're bugging out about, and have the patience for me when I don't understand, because I don't, I still don't really get your 'situations', or magic, in general-- is it a magic thing?-- but I'm working on it." He smiled more genuinely then, because so far Jon had been doing all of that for him very graciously, and there was nothing he could really do to help the bottomless well of Tony's heart that would always want more of it.

The switch of their positions comes as a surprise and with a quick, matching sound of surprise from Jon, who blinks a few times up at Tony. At least there is a certain familiarity in this that puts Jon mostly at ease. Though he is a little flustered when Tony voices his request.

"Oh. Uh- wow. umm. Okay." The initial verbal response is certainly a baffled one. But how can he not be baffled when his heart has decided it urgently wants to leave his body at the combination of Tony leaning over him, his hand moving up his body and, his words and that smile that appears to be of the less common kind for Tony. Jon finds himself returning it while staring up at Tony, uncertain how to react to this level of interest. "I, uh- I believe that can be arranged." He hopes. And he reaches a hand up to move the tips of his fingers along Tony's jaw to try and coax him down for a kiss.

"I trust you, Tony. And I love you. And I-- okay. O-okay." The smile shifts somewhat into the area of a small, unprofessional grin. "Don't worry too much about the magic, please? I- I don't fully get it either, but- Not all of it is magic. Most of it is still just... Me." He likes to hope as much. There may be a lot of hoping going on, but there are few things Jon can still claim with certainty these days. At least he's certain about his feelings towards this man above him.

Jon's instinctual muttering had Tony's eyebrows creeping up apologetically, nodding to ask if Jon was meaning to smile at him like that or there was an issue, because Jon might have been willingly sharing with Tony since he approached him on the hill at the carnival, but maybe he wasn't so aware of it. His initial reaction to Tony's prodding manipulations had been explosively angry, more so when Tony had admitted he was trying to figure Jon out, and there was no real reason for that to have changed. Tony hadn't, anyway. He was still trying to figure Jon out.

The touch to his jaw was reassuring and Tony gladly mirrored it, drawing his fingers through Jon's hair as he followed the touch into a kiss that he pressed insistently as Jon reminded him that he loved him. Still not used to it, still not sure how to respond to it, he dusted Jon's lips with his kisses to once again try to get him to stop talking, he already said enough, only for his mouth to slant against Jon's in a wry smile. "I'm going to worry about the magic," he said, because there was no way that could stop being a worry until any of it was explained with rational logic and the laws of the natural world for Tony to properly calculate. "But you don't have to tell me that you are a weird, weird man. The only thing I think you've found funny in all the time we've spent together is being called a vampire, did you know that? You should be studied."

It's a remarkably effective way to keep Jon quiet. He even gives a content little hum against Tony's lips and closes his eyes while listening to Tony's response. Sounds as if they will be worrying about the magic together. Jon is a little undecided if this is actually better or worse.

Tony's observation is met with a pause at first, a genuinely surprised expression following. "Really?" And he takes a moment to consider this. "Well. To be fair... It is a peculiar comparison. I mean... There are fictional vampires, and then there are actual vampires and I- Do you have those in your world? Those mute creatures that pretend to be human... I actually met a man dedicated to hunting them down." And then Jon's tone turns several degrees more solemn "He kidnapped and considered to kill me when I was in America - And attacked the Archives not long before the Agrii took me here..." He lets his words trail off for a moment, then makes an attempt to turn the topic back around. The Hunters want him dead, so his friends should be safe while he isn't around.

"You- uhm... You want to study me...?"

It was like Jon had to prove his point, it was remarkable. As soon as Jon got going, Tony could tell this was going to be some kind of anecdote about his awful, terrifying job and probably explain another scar, making Tony roll his eyes instead of laugh outright at Jon's reaction to vampires instead of the sorry state of his sense of humour. While Jon listened to his own voice, Tony sighed his way down his neck in a trail of tickling kisses, his hand following and continuing down to Jon's chest to peak his nipple with the slow circle of the rough pad of a thumb. Around an affirmative hum, of course Tony's world had vampires, they were everywhere, how was that even a question?, he settled over the joint of Jon's shoulder that was usually hidden under his shirt, where Tony had to nose the chain aside to nip then suck carefully to work a pink mark into his skin. Focused on his work, Tony let Jon wonder for himself about his question for a moment, maybe come to his own conclusions after that tangent, before drawing away from his vampire kiss with a lick of his lips and thoughtful tilt of his head. "Maybe just medicated. Hey, Mr. Pharmacist, Chemist, whatever mad scientist you are, could you please whip me up some lubrication? My boyfriend needs to fuck me until he forgets what vampires are." It took him a moment, but Tony went very still then, eyes still half lidded and staring down at the mark he left on Jon's neck before he added very lightly, "You've been to America?"

And maybe it's this little habit of falling into little rants that is to blame for Jon's notable lack of experience. He can be very easily tipped to rambling about things people don't necessarily want to listen to. Though Jon doesn't fully miss Tony busying himself with spreading his affections over his body. Doing so would be impossible given the goosebumps Tony is causing and the way he manages to create some not necessarily unpleasant turmoil in Jon's stomach. Then, in that brief moment of silence between Jon's question and Tony's thoughtful response, Jon looks over to his shoulder just in time to see Tony pull away to leave his mark just there.

Oh.

He blinks twice before Tony's voice catches Jon's attention and he is about to react to the first part before the final bit steals his voice and leaves him staring. Tony's question somehow ends up driving straight into the wreckage left of Jon's mind. The actual questions aren't that hard to answer, actually. Yes, he has been to America. And yes, he can whip up some lubricant. That one's fairly easy and Jon still feels that he shouldn't be aware of that. But then there is-

"W-wha-?" Jon starts at first, his hand comes up to touch Tony's face gently, almost carefully trying to nudge him to look directly at him. Hopefully he doesn't look shocked and just about as surprised as he feels when he finally manages to put his question into full words, heart pounding. "...did you just call me your- Boyfriend?" Is he sounding too hopeful? Is Tony just messing with him to laugh at him? Or will he bolt away at the mere suggestion...?

Maybe Jon should have settled with just answering the questions.

America should have been very interesting to talk about, maybe not as interesting as vampires, but that was where Tony was from, maybe they had some shared experiences, Jon really had to focus on the wrong shit. "It's just-- don't worry about it," Tony said, tilting his chin up in Jon's hand in a way that read more bravado than relaxed confidence, cool focus somewhere above Jon's head like he could hide the panic that rolled off of him from the fear monster. "It's just an expression, it's an American thing, there was the pharmacist Jon and this Jon, see, this is your problem, you don't really do jokes so, we don't have to talk about this," Tony scattered, then dropped his hand down Jon's side to tickle up his flank where he knew he had made Jon squirm with a giggle before.

America may have been the safe choice, but it isn't what Jon has the most interest in. And while Jon can't help but feel at least somewhat rejected, Tony's reaction and the obvious lie are hard to ignore and in that rather concerning. So the hand that isn't at Tony's face drops down and over the one Tony has moved to Jon's side to cover it in a gentle, yet still firm grip. He won't be able to hold Tony back if he chooses to leave, but this isn't about holding Tony back. It's more about keeping his attention - And trying to help him calm down.

"Tony..." Jon starts only somewhat imploringly. "What- What are you afraid of? Please. Please tell me." And he is especially careful to not let any of his compulsion put weight onto that question.

Whatever Jon was trying to do, the stilling of Tony's hand did effectively get Tony to obediently release some tension, surrendering the tickling and dipping his head down against Jon's shoulder again with a sigh. "Sorry," he offered. "I'm not afraid, god, stop...doing things." He hadn't missed that Jon sounded hopeful, and he certainly hadn't missed that Jon loved him, but it was an act of cruelty to manipulate him with a gift and some sexual attention to saddle him with yet another worthless disaster. Rhodey loved him, too, but he knew better than to accept Tony's shit. This was good, this was working for both of them, what Tony was afraid of was finding out that it wasn't really. Slowly, he raised his head to study Jon's face coldly, watching for a sense of clarity as he said, "I've been sleeping with other people. I'm not...out. In a lot of ways. You barely know me, and I promise you, this shit you've been putting up with is all of the good parts. I'm not going to stop ignoring you to work, and calling you an asshole for ignoring me, and I've never been a good boyfriend. I'm not worth trying to make that work. I'm happy to help you unwind, and you shouldn't take anything I say seriously when I think my balls fully fell off ten minutes ago. I'd ask you to marry me right now."

This is not what Jon has expected to receive in response and he can only stare at Tony as the man slowly yet pointedly drives a metaphorical frozen blade into his heart, twists the blade and leaves in stuck there.

Right. He has been an idiot. He has been an idiot to believe...

"...right." Is all Jon mutters as he tears his eyes away and along with them pulls his hands to himself, suddenly feeling way too exposed and way too misplaced and like all he has been is the greatest fool.

He needs to escape. He needs to get away and find somewhere to breathe and maybe scream and maybe cry. But first he has to get away. Breaking down here - It wouldn't do. So avoiding to look directly at Tony, Jon looks around and ultimately simply tries to duck under Tony's arm and roll out from under him in hopes of makeing a quick clamber for his pants and shoes, falling into a frantic muttering. "-r-r-right. Sorry. I'm s-sorry. Sh-sh-shit... s-so-sorry. fuck..."

This, this was exactly what Tony was afraid of, and what the problem was. He shouldn't have said anything, they were doing fine. At first, he let Jon slip away, falling into the void he left behind to bury his face in the blankets and maybe suffocate and die. Jon really shouldn't have stuck around, Tony did deserve that, he shouldn't have shown up in the first place and, honestly, he knew better, what did he expect was going to happen?

That was stupid, that was nothing, Tony groaned. Through the muffle of the bedding, he could hear Jon doing that stuttering that really put him on edge-- not the adorable, indignant sputtering from an off-colour joke or the wind changing, but the one that made Tony push himself up abruptly and snap, "Stop that." The weird apology that Jon was obviously struggling to internalize, too, because they both knew he had nothing to apologize for, but one of them should have been doing it. Less harshly, Tony insisted, "Don't do that," sliding himself to the edge of the nest.

Finding himself free and able to put some distance between himself and Tony, Jon is quick to get his clothes and struggle them back on. Certainly not as neatly as he might have liked and he may have missed a button on his shirt and - And he will have to cross half of the city before he can hide himself away properly.

The sudden snap of Tony's voice makes him freeze once more despite his own panicked state and he almost - almost looks over to him. But Jon catches that notion and forces himself to close the last few buttons of his shirt improperly before his hand picks up the glasses, still suspended by that fine, golden chain. Which he starts fiddling with to remove it as well.

"...s-sorry." Jon mutters, trying to hide the hurt in his voice behind a stubborn veil. A veil he shouldn't have lifted... "I-I..... I shouldn't linger. R-right... J-just..." And with those words, the first end of the chain comes off and he starts on the other.

Edited 2020-07-27 00:57 (UTC)

Tony was up on his feet by then, only proving how completely misaligned they were with a quick tug of his clothes and push through his hair to reset himself back to effortlessly casual, a move perfected through practice after being punched into the ground then having to hold a press conference like it never happened approximately every other day, whereas Jon seemed to avoid anyone looking at him at all by appearing very fussily disheveled on purpose. That didn't mean Tony had to send him back out into the cold light of day looking worse than he had when he arrived, and approached him with his hands up in surrender to try to appease him enough to fix his shirt, his hair, maybe the smudge fogging up an entire eye of his glasses, any part of this to not feel like a complete asshole, he could fix this. Only, Jon started working the chain that Tony had given him off of his glasses, it didn't even last one day, and Tony was left standing expectantly as he did until he was holding one hand out expectantly to accept it.

Sure. Okay. He thought Jon had been coming over here to throw it at him anyway.

Noticing Tony approaching has Jon swallow against the noise of his own rapid heartbeat in his ears and his choked off throat. Of course Tony’s presence doesn’t prove to be very helpful in Jon’s attempt at removing the chain and in his increasing panic the temple of his glasses gives a nasty little crack before the chain comes off fully.

Jon just stares at it for a few moments. As well at his somewhat damaged glasses as the little chain. The glasses quickly seem less important. They will be fine. But Jon’s eyes dart over briefly to Tony’s outstretched and waiting hand and for a moment Jon wants to reach over and take it in his own.

But that isn’t what Tony wants. This hasn’t been what Tony has wanted any of the times Jon has reached to take hold of one of his hands. And that knowledge... It hurts.

Pressing his lips into a tight line, Jon swallows once more against the lump in his throat and closes his hand around the golden chain one more time. Then, without looking over, he hands it back. Obviously Tony has someone else to give this to next and Jon doesn’t want to think about who that might be.

Without another word or even another stutter or trying to find out how well his glasses now fit, Jon finally makes to leave the forge for good.

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in_extremis - 2020-07-27 02:30 (UTC) - Expand

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