revivalproject | neck of the woods

Entry tags:

neck of the woods

WHO: Tony and his new Graq friends. Open to other absolute morons.
WHERE: Graq homeworld
WHAT: Jungle adventures! Some animal wrangling, some spelunking, more mistakes, and a date.
WHEN: Shortly after getting all of the Graq home.
WARNINGS: I cannot promise all of these alien animals are going to be treated with dignity. Edit: I don't know what either of us expected, of course it is horny. Uh, not with the animals, the animals are fine.

a. The caverns [OTA! I have no plan for this, BYO Adventure]
One of the Graq had explained on the trip over how the satellites around their planet orbited in perfect alignment to create a solar eclipse every cycle, sheering through the light reliably every morning like the moon was late to set and met the sun coming up on the horizon. They didn't explain it quite that way, of course; at first, Tony though the Graq didn't know that a solar cycle happened on any other planets and was trying to explain what night was to him, which became frustrating enough for the alien to spit a hole into the ship floor between them. So, Tony's effortless charm didn't work in Graq language. While the Graq lacked the descriptive words to convey their message to Tony, when he finally saw the phenomenon occur he paused and went, "Oh," out loud, though his erstwhile planetary guide had long since tired of him. The great shadow of the moon passed over the planet, and with it the raucous chattering of the forest around him slowed and quieted to a very queer stillness, the nocturnal animals not yet awake and the diurnal ones holding their collective breath at this early evening. It made the sound that came from inside the cave just a few feet away from where Tony stood seem loud, and close.

b. The hills [For Cayde, but you are welcome to join]
There wasn't a perfect translation into any languages that Tony knew he might share with Cayde for the giant fowl on the planet, so when the Graq tried to describe them when asked what they were eating, what Tony said to Cayde was, "Big feather," with a shrug and raised lip. They lived on steep hills, one of the Graq very intently tried to explain despite Tony definitely not asking, because they built their nests into holes they dug into them, and because of this their eggs were incredibly hard to crack without Graq spit, so do not bother. Tony did not need this warning and, again, did not ask, but now he knew and was well prepared to announce, "Big feather egg," when they came upon what looked like shards of a hollowed rock at the foot of a craggy hill. Now he was starting to sound like one of them, he was integrating to the local culture in ways he did not appreciate. The nests, as described, dotted all the way up the hill, looking like steps built into the sheerest face of it, leaving the impression of a pyramid built into this less dense part of the jungle.

'Big feather' sounded like it was going to get Tony closer to the pillow he had hoped to find for Jon than the noodles he had hoped to get for Cayde, and upon spotting one of those birds, Tony was ready to accept that this planet was not going to produce either of these gifts for him. These people didn't yet seem to have their own bread, let alone noodle, and when the Graq had said 'big' they meant enormous. More of a sword than a feather. Not pillowy down, anyway. It went stalking across the steep hill expertly, long legs fully extended and navigating the angle with sharp claws digging in to the rock to balance its fat, bobbling body, head twitching and blinking stupidly like a chicken, only approximately the size of a dinosaur.

"I don't say this often," Tony started, and it already sounded like a lie, haughty with his chin raised as he tracked the unreasonable bird, "but I am confident I am the most beautiful thing on this planet." He definitely did say that more often than he deserved to, but in this case he had sound logic. Graq were ugly, these birds were ugly, based on this sample this whole planet's evolution tended toward squashy and wrong-sized. "Present company an ongoing consideration," he was willing to allow.

c. The water [For Jon, but you are still welcome]
This was an ideal environment for plenty of very ugly bugs and grubs. Frogs, generously. Insects, in general, were not hugely upsetting for Tony, with the distinct exception of anything cockroach-like, but he did prefer a more sterile, modern, less bug-centric experience, if it were up to him, and he was realizing that he had made the wrong choice. He could have been on a spaceship right now, in space, on a ship. With the exception of the unique mineral compound of the malleable stones, there wasn't much to Tony's taste on this primitive planet.

The locals, obviously, being local and made for this environment, loved it, and appreciated being returned safely despite the awkward introductions. With a few of their rescuers on the planet with them, the Graq decided it was an ideal time to celebrate the reunion of their families, and these strange, hairless bipeds that had made that happen for them. "They want us to join them at sunset," he had translated to the camp of He-Rows, "by the waterfall, they say is over there. Follow the river, can't miss it, it's water, it's not confusing. I don't think they're going to eat us, but don't quote me on that."

Bugs on any planet, it was a universal truth, got worse the closer it was to dusk. Tony crouched by the river as the sun went down, trying to remain curious about what this planet had to offer as he felt the waxy leaf of a vibrant lilypad in a cluster that didn't seem bothered by the meandering water, only to be smacked in the face by what he would assume to be a moth on Earth, and what he didn't want to think too hard about here. "This is a nightmare," he grumbled, wiping at his cheek to make sure it hadn't left anything behind, then glanced up at the distant sound of drumming music from the direction of what must have been this waterfall site. Fashionably late, as ever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alright, not fine, not fair, even, Jon must have known that sent a shiver up Tony's spine, and he had to bite his lip to convince himself not to kiss his way across Jon's face and knock him to the ground. This was some kind of punishment, surely. With a deep breath, Tony dragged himself away instead, looking with very intent purpose back toward his lamp for something to do with his hands to stop them from lingering on Jon's skin. He could figure this out, it was just a hammock, easy.

It took clearing his throat again, shocked cold outside of the hug of the blanket, for Tony to offer idly as he shook out the fabric, "Theirs are all hung way up there, like, prepared to die kind of high, not sure that's your thing, you know, trying to climb a tree just to get into this. Do you think they have nightmares? I've fallen out of bed more than once, that doesn't seem like a reasonable risk. Maybe they're not sleeping out there, you know, now that I say it, of course they aren't, these are, like, deck chairs, we should find out what their beds are like, they must be incredible, I'll get you a pillow." By then, he had plotted out and hung the first corners of the blanket on some sturdy trees, up on his toes to try to keep it from sinking too far to the ground with any weight on it.

It's not fair that Tony steps away all of the sudden, either. Leaving Jon to wrap his arms back around himself again with a soft, yet disappointed huff, watching Tony as he does it again. The rambling, the trying to keep himself and his hands busy. Those odd avoiding tactics he seems to believe no one to notice.

"Didn't think I'd get an invitation to a Graq bed tonight..." Jon muses with a step towards Tony and his fiddling with the hammock, letting his eyes settle on the side that has already been knotted in place. "Yet I... I don't think I'm surprised they hang them that high? They built their homes up in the trees. What may leave us nauseous is perfectly normal for them."

Tony paused long enough, working a knot out of one of the corners, to shoot Jon a sidelong look with a wry smile, because only one of them found heights, apparently, nauseating. They were going to have to work on that, because if Tony was stuck grounded for much longer he was going to have what he was sure was an entire personality crisis, the drinking and this thing with Jon he was working through were nothing in comparison, and he couldn't imagine right now just leaving Jon behind every time.

He let that go for now, though, giving a thoughtful hum to tease, "So, that's your type," as he strung up the last corner of the hammock. "You've been avoiding the answer this whole time, and I get it now, that's hard to admit to. Big, hair guy who will spit on you, that's a very specific fantasy, I'm glad you can trust me with that now." They hadn't really talked about the spitting thing yet, maybe it wasn't appropriate to joke about, and Tony gave a last tug at the ties as he conjured an apology for going there with his free hand. It was probably a bad time to ask. He tilted the hammock over to pull himself up into a seat, only to slide easily down the silky surface into the middle with his feet kicking uselessly over the edge.

Jon isn't outright terrified of heights, yet a certain avatar of The Vast has left the Archivist with a somewhat unpleasant experience of being stuck in a simulated free fall while being safely sat on a chair for God knows how long. And being told that his mind may be aware he isn't really falling, but that his body won't know that once said avatar decided it hits the ground doesn't improve the memory. Though he remains open to having his opinion improved.

Right now, however, he watches Tony's feet hang out of the hammock with a little frown still lingering as a result of the other man's words. "I will pass on any further spitting, thank you..." Is all he has to say in response before giving one of Tony's feet a slight nudge. "So how is it, this... Deck chair?"

"Honestly, fantastic. They're definitely not getting it back," Tony reported from his pocket in the hammock, and would have been happy to settle exactly where he was with the tension of this whole, weird day melting out of him and the alien stars winking through the treetops above. If Jon hadn't nudged him, anyway. He wiggled to try to tip the seat forward again and make it easier for Jon to climb in, but the undersuit left him with very little purchase on the blanket and mostly managed to slide further into the hammock, disappearing entirely over the edge. "These guys know how to party," he continued, voice muffled.

Watching Tony's feet vanish gets a light, yet amused noise from Jon, before he carefully pushes the side of the hammock down while just as carefully holding onto the blanket he is still wrapped in.

"Right. Time to join the party." Jon announces, then makes a careful attempt at carefully joining Tony only to find the unique attribute of hammocks to work against his intention and he ends up gracelessly falling backwards into the hammock and nearly landing on Tony with a yelp.

As ready as Tony tried to be for that well telegraphed disaster, the blanket was not conducive to being able to help at all, leaving him wincing on impact and cackling at the flail and noise Jon made. "It's okay, it's just a kidney, I have two," he insisted before Jon could start stuttering about it, and tugged at the blanket he brought with him to get it away from him before he managed to suffocate anyone. "They had it like this, look," he explained, sitting up to drape the smaller blanket over the open top of the hammock as it bowed in with their weight, dragging it over to complete their cocoon and trap a pocket of warmth against the cool night air. The Graq might have been severely out of their element on a space ship, and Tony might not have appreciate being on their planet much, but they certainly had an admirable command of what they had to work with. In here, he could barely hear the music that continued from the direction of the party as much as he could feel it, and was only distantly aware of the splashing of the waterfall, back to its serene, glasslike shimmer with the evidence of their disturbance settling like it had never happened.

The landing is accompanied by some sputtering and a bit of flailing, but it all stops when Tony takes the blanket to demonstrate what he has seen, distracting Jon from the brief moment of cold and sudden exposure with the completion of their little shelter.

"...oh." He repeats his earlier impression feeling around much rather than looking. It's warm and soft and offers a distinct feeling of security. Maybe they should have gone to the party after all.This could have been a nice, comfy evening rather than another diving adventure disrupted by local fauna.

"I like this." Comes the ultimate conclusion as Jon gives the nearest wall of soft fabric a little pat. "And I agree that you should keep these."

With the full effect complete, including jostling for hard won space in the dipping pocket against each other's shoulders, Tony had to observe, "This must be incredible up high, they know what they're doing, we're going to have to try it," knowing they wouldn't be seeing so much as feeling that suspension in the dark womb. There was a very primal sense of security in that idea, being away from anything lurking on the forest floor; they must not have been all that different from the Graq. Tony couldn't quite agree with Jon's assessment until he had felt his way around his waist again, rolling up off of the blanket and against Tony's chest, between his knees where they weren't competing for space anymore and Tony could sigh, "Yeah, not bad," with a short laugh.

Finding himself relocated from one moment to the next gets another short noise of surprise from the Archivist, but he is quick to accept and settle in this new position on top of Tony, settling there with little more than a short huff as complaint.

“How much higher than this are we speaking?” He asks with a Mutter while finding a comfortable spot for his head on Tony’s shoulder.

"Just about where you're going to barf," Tony replied happily, tickling both hands up Jon's back to comb one through his hair, convincing himself that this was much easier to deal with in the dark, it was just warm and he could feel Jon's weight down the length of his body, but it wasn't like he had to survive the full force of Jon's determined frown without his chest bursting. Stop picturing it. Tony screwed his eyes shut tight then tried to relax, releasing a heavy breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, and abruptly murmured, "I'm sorry." As long as he was letting things go, and they were supposed to be secure in this cocoon. "About earlier, I guess, I didn't want to let you go, that's not an excuse, but, mostly for before, I don't know if I said I was sorry. I am. And for everything before that, I didn't realize you weren't, uh, happy--I mean, I knew you weren't happy, I was trying to, I don't know, but..." Tony exhaled again, and tried to gently untangled the restless curl and twist of his fingers into Jon's hair.

"...I will trust you to get me up there - And keep me from falling." Jon says, his voice soft as some of his usual tension starts to melt away. Which is one effect this somewhat unusual situation appears to have on him.

Surrounded by this darkness and without being able to rely on his eyes, Jon finds himself limited to his other senses to follow what's happening. Normally, he'd be more worried about being in such darkness, but that feeling of security this cocoon offers negates that worry quite effectively, much rather prompting him to press his face against Tony's neck, eyes closed.

The hands on his back make him shiver for a moment, but that shiver is followed by a low hum that turns into an exhale and Jon's own hand finds its way up to the other side of Tony's neck and up to the side of his face. The hand stops when Tony speaks up, apologizes. And it takes Jon a moment to put together what he is talking about.

"Mmhm..." Jon repeats his hum and his hand settles against the side of Tony's face fully, resting there a short while before slipping down to rest where it so often lies: Over Tony's heart. "I'm quite happy now." He offers without shifting from where he has settled now. "But I appreciate those words... I do. And I... I want to make you happy, too." Though he is still puzzling over the how...

If saying he trusted Tony in this way was Jon's way of making up for being kind of a dick earlier--well, Tony was happy to take it and the knot it tied around his heart, smiling giddily up at the sliver of light at the edge of the blanket as he settled on a soothing rhythm pet into the nape of Jon's neck with curling fingers, the other hand ghosting tickling trails up Jon's arm and across his shoulders. Maybe he wouldn't notice in the dark the way Tony tipped his cheek into Jon's hand, opening his neck more to that purr of Jon's voice under his skin. Was he taking advantage of that trust? Maybe. It was fine, he could stop whenever he wanted to. Tony pressed his heel into the blanket and licked his lips, his questing fingers following up Jon's arm to wander across his hand, then nosed his way into Jon's hair under the guise of pressing a kiss there to get him maybe not so close to Tony's neck before he noticed Tony's heart pounding out of his chest.

"You know what would make me happy?," he mumbled darkly, a sharp-edged growl in the dark that Tony let hang just long enough for Jon to hear the heat and the smirk in it that Tony know would make him sputter before he continued, losing the heat into a laugh before he had finished, "Hearing that sound you made when you fell into the hammock again."

Jon is already perfectly aware of Tony's heart rate and were they not huddled together in this darkness, his flustered expression may have amused Tony. But as it is, Tony will have to be content with the little flinches and the small twitching he gives in response to Tony's wandering fingers.

Though it's Tony's voice and especially his tone that goes directly to Jon's core and travels along his bones, tickling nerves and causing some goosebumps along the way, leaving Jon to stare onto the darkness for a few moments, uncertain which path to follow his own mind from there on. In a way, he is saved by Tony's laugh. Which breaks through Jon's inner tension and leaves him with a little shudder, fingers clawing harmlessly on where they rest on Tony.

"Jesus!" Is all Jon gives in means of initial complaint. It's followed by a small, barely audible huff. "It- That.... It was a scream, Tony!" Does he feel the dire need to point it out? He does indeed.

That response was possibly the only way to make it funnier, making Tony's poorly restrained chuckle as he spoke break into a laugh at Jon's indignance. At least he was self-aware and wasn't trying to claim any dignity in his vocal reactions, just in Tony's inability to take them seriously. "I would call it more of a wail, scientifically speaking," he argued, trying to be serious, "With a hint of mournfulness, like you knew it was coming and couldn't stop it anyway. A very full bodied sound, well aged." He had folded both arms over Jon's shoulders to reassure him that it was just a tease without a grin to offer him, Tony wasn't delighting in making him scream the way Jon put it, otherwise trying hard not to move and tip him over to taste his sighs of complaint like a sommelier. Except Tony was delighting, absolutely, until Jon found a way to stop him. He swept his hands down Jon's back, searching his sides for the tender area he knew had made him squirm.

For the most part Jon replies with some flustered muttering, barely even attempting to formulate a reasonable complaint. It's only half as effective if he can't glare at the person he complains to. Also this is Tony. And by now Jon can tell that he is but teasing. Especially in obvious cases like this one. But getting teased... Well. There still is an element of embarrassment in it. Elements Tony appears to enjoy picking on. He's also remarkably good at it.

And despite everything, Jon can't ignore the reassurance offered by those two arms wrapping around him. Jon could dwell in that assurance for an undetermined amount of time. But then Tony moves his hands, which brings a slightly curious shift to Jon's posture. "You're impossible." He finally manages, though with hardly any conviction in his voice and words. He's only saying it for the sake of having put together some actual words.

Those weak words also won't do him much as Tony's hand make him flinch with a short, involuntary noise Jon tries rather hard to bite off by pressing his face down against whichever part of Tony his face meets first. Tickling him in the dark? Feels unfair.

It was Tony's turn to hum, "Mmhmm...?," that he turned against Jon's hair again as he tried to bury his traitorous voice, more inquisitive than Jon's had been and Tony's smirk still unmistakable in his murmuring, obviously honoured by the accusation, making the noise mean only one possible question, what are you going to do about it?. It did get him to pause his assault, spreading his hands over Jon's back again to give Jon the chance to consider, but it wasn't much of a chance. Tony was already talking again, back to the serious connoisseur, "That one I'd call more of a squeak, not quite as satisfying in its depth and gone far too soon. Not the richest of the collection, but does whet one's appetite."

Tony's question is met with a little grumble and he does, indeed, consider what he can possibly do about Tony's silly commentary. Before he has come to a decision, however, Tony keeps going and Jon all but huffs against the man's shoulder.

There's no way he's going to protest those hands on his back, and there may be a way to get Tony to shut up at least briefly. Jon moves his hand to get a hold on Tony's shoulder and pull himself up with a stubborn little exhale of "Never liked performance reviews..." As he speaks, his hand shifts to find the side of Tony's face again, his thumb brushing against the edge of Tony's smirk briefly before Jon presses his lips on Tony's ever restless ones in an attention demanding kiss.

Tony's fingers flexed and stuttered on Jon's back, and he went very still beneath him, like he expected Jon to kill him well before he kissed him. While Tony hadn't exactly come to terms with the idea that Jon wasn't interested in Tony's physical attention, he was definitely going through the stages of grief and had convinced himself that every kiss they shared before was stolen and yet another way Tony hadn't been treating him properly. He was going to have to move before Jon changed his mind, and gave a short gasp against Jon's lips that had him making a, frankly, embarrassing and needy sound in his throat that he would have tormented Jon for. Maybe Jon had killed him, and this was the merciful sensation Tony's dying brain clung to. Pressing eagerly into the kiss was like releasing a breath Tony didn't realize he had been holding in agonizing yearning since Jon had retreated from his workshop, and Tony drew a hand back up his spine to curl his fingers once again at the nape of Jon's neck with another sharp breath and hopeful part of his lips.

The noise Tony makes has Jon raise a curious brow - An expression lost to the darkness. He still takes the knowledge that this is a sound he has made Tony make. And it's that knowledge that brings a small grin to his own lips, occupied as they are, and he readily accepts the invitation to deepen the kiss further, not quite able to hold back that little, fond chuckle. His hand wanders up further as well, fingers burrowing in Tony's dark hair. It's his other hand that slips down from Tony's shoulder and his side, pausing about halfway. The feeling of that golden suit isn't nearly the same as touching human flesh and Jon interrupts the kiss with a low, remotely irritated huff but not pulling away much. Just enough to frown into the darkness and tap his fingers against Tony's side. For half a moment he considers how to properly phrase his request, then decides he doesn't really care as long as Tony understands what he mans when he breathes the words against the other man's lips. "Do me a favor and- Take that off. Please."

Too much, Tony interpreted that huff, time to back off, but with Jon lingering so close and his hand travelling down Tony's side, Tony could curl his under Jon's jaw to scratch through the burr of his beard, then sweep his thumb over Jon's cheek as he chased Jon's lips and pressed another kiss to his frown, then the corner of his mouth, okay, he could stop. By the time Jon had worked out his request, Tony was mumbling over him, "You don't have to--oh." The politeness really wasn't necessary, the suit under Jon's hand melting away immediately like wax under a hot flame. This was not the time for Tony to test his limits, not when he shifted and urged Jon closer to press every revealed inch of skin to skin like a puzzle, and it was dark enough, he probably couldn't see the scar, Tony rationalized rapidly, as long as he didn't touch it; Tony was really losing it. He only hesitated then, the undersuit clinging to him in silky patches and rivulets following the line of his muscles that shivered in unsure transition, the ports on his skin feeling vulnerably open, and he worked a restless hand through Jon's hair as he tried to work out if this was some kind of game he was supposed to be playing, because Jon must have known Tony didn't have nearly the same capacity for patience as he did. If it was a game, Sunset would have been darkly satisfied to hear it anyway, maybe that was Jon's ploy, so Tony admitted, "Sweetheart, boss, Jon, I can't, listen, you've been naked and all over me for a decade now, by my calculations, I think I've been doing okay, but I've got about ten more seconds in me before I'm going to have to go."

No, the politeness is necessary. As is the little ’Thank you.’ Jon mutters against Tony’s lips once he feels his hand touching warm skin and his fingers resume their downwards travel for a few more inches before moving back up again.

He is more than willing to resume the kiss as well, yet hesitates when Tony speaks, pulling his head back enough to wet his own lips. Huh. “I was rather hoping for you to stay here. With me. Especially now that... The playing field is... You know. Even.” And he punctuates his words by finally picking that interrupted kiss back up.

Between that reassurance and the skim of Jon's fingers over his ribs making Tony flinch, his giddy grin was back, the last of the nanoweb disappearing under his skin and taking his cautious tension with it. He rather wanted to stay, too, it didn't take any convincing, which Tony hoped was obvious enough in the way he pulled his arm around Jon's shoulders again and tangled their legs together to hitch him closer, because he wasn't quite ready to let Jon break away from him and leave him wanting again. This proved unsustainable as Tony tried to use the hold to flip them over, so Jon didn't have to hold himself up and Tony could kiss more of him, wrestling against the resistance to this idea that the hammock seemed to have until he had them tipped over, haphazardly on his shoulder with Jon cushioned on his arm and knee curled over Jon's hip, and was snorting a laugh instead. The thread of anxiety that wound through him when he thought Jon wasn't interested in any part of this might have been gone, but another tugged at his smile then, making Tony try to find his comfort in another soft kiss before he could finally say, "I thought you didn't want any of this, you didn't really do it, so..." It wasn't quite a question, but Tony used his free hand to push back against the blanket behind Jon, trying to give him the space for Tony to meet his eye in the dark. If he was just going to regret it again, and leave again, Tony could really use a softer landing this time with at least a little bit of warning. The Graq had proven they knew how to party, the likelihood that there was something fermented over by that fire for Tony to pour his self-loathing into was very high.

The switch of their positions gets a small sound of surprise from Jon, but that one isn’t nearly en par with his earlier scream or in the range of his more protesting noises. In fact, he quite approves of the change. It allows him to move his hands more freely, which he is quick to make use of by wrapping them
Around Tony, holding him close while looking up into the darkness where he can make out the other man’s vague shape.

Tony’s words are answered with a soundless raised brow and a small, thoughtful exhale before Jon reaches for some words. This could be an entire can of words if discussed at a different time, but right now? He will rather keep himself short. “Rarely.” Jon agrees, but then adds: “Which doesn’t mean I am... Actively avoiding. It’s simply not an attraction I... Feel often?” Did he phrase that okay? The set of fingers on Tony’s back at least are traveling up the now revealed skin thoughtfully and Tony may feel Jon shrug slightly before he adds a little chuckle. “I hope that makes sense...”

"Nope," Tony admitted with a laugh, glad to hear Jon's in the dark as well despite the unfamiliar, unsure tone; not that he didn't follow what Jon was saying, he did understand what Jon meant. It was just as alien to Tony as Jon not really needing to breathe, or eat, or sleep. Alright, maybe Tony wouldn't die like he would if he stopped eating, but the hunger pangs weren't far off, and he nosed along Jon's jaw to nip with that hunger at his throat as he explained with his fangy grin, "I feel it constantly." Also an abridged version of a more complicated situation; they probably, definitely should talk about it, eventually. Sometime after Tony figured out how he felt about Jon's touch wandering up his bare back, making him shiver as it brushed against a deep itch that never seemed to go away after so long hiding it under the chestplate, but coming dangerously closer to the lightning web of scars--overwhelmed, Tony decided, he felt overwhelmed about it, making him shift again to stretch out on his side with his back pressed against the curve of the blanket, and take Jon's exploring hand by the wrist to bring it between them where he could kiss Jon's fingers instead.

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