[Tony can't see him roll his eyes with his back to him, but it's not hard to guess that's what he's doing.]
How kind of you to stoop to performing manual labor for my sake.
[It's remarkably easy to fall into a pattern of banter with someone he's only really known for two days, and strangely, it makes him feel more comfortable and grounded than he's felt in a long time.]
[ hiding another smile and already rubbing a glob of shampoo between his hands, tony instructs, ] Eyes closed, [ and smooths both hands along simba's scalp, back with the grain. while one hand massages the shampoo into a lather with little circular scratches, tony hands simba the bottle over his shoulder. ] Here. Get the front. 'M not giving you a reach-around.
[As Tony lathers his mane up, slowly but surely, he starts to purr, a deep bass that vibrates through his whole body. He blinks slowly when Tony speaks, then huffs amused laughter at his remark.]
All right, all right. [He takes the bottle and squeezes a dollop of shampoo into his palm, working it into the front of his mane.]
[ the bottle passed back, tony adds another glob of shampoo to simba's mane, down more on the neck and beneath the ears and along the cheeks. by the time he's massaging the base of simba's skull, the purring is hard to miss. tony can feel the vibration through simba's back into his knees. he refrains from opening his mouth, which turns out not to be hard; something about the deep frequency in simba's purr hits the right parts of his hindbrain. it's calming.
his hands scrub professionally, but tony spares an idle scritch along the finer hairs atop simba's brow. ] Almost done, [ he whispers. all at once he feels how heavy his body is, too, the water on it aside. he hasn't slept really in–how long? hard to tell with the multiple time zone shifts the last twenty-four hours. maybe two days? he's napped a couple times, and he drank a shot of espresso before the plane landed, but the purring and his legs in the pool keeping his core warm are pulling him under. he can't sleep, though, not yet. he needs to put the suit back onto the gantry, find simba certain essentials asap, show him around the house...
a big yawn fights its way up. the scrubbing pauses for tony to cover his face with one arm, soapy hands held conscientiously away. he makes a "meh" sound and runs his hands through the last of the mane. ] There.
Mmn. [His eyes are half-lidded by the time Tony finishes, his breathing deep and even, and he's very nearly drifting off there in the pool as the water laps gently at his chest. It takes him a moment to stir, and he rises to his feet slowly. He takes a few steps out into the pool before he plunges underwater again, vigorously rinsing the foam from his mane.]
[ rallying himself, tony scoots back, pulling his legs from the heated pool. he just needs to get moving again. hands washed, he begins to peel off his soaked sneakers and socks. ] Ayup. Don't forget to condition.
[He makes a face at the suggestion. Tony's lucky he got him to use shampoo for his mane, and not just more body wash. Instead of reaching for the other bottle, he hauls himself out of the pool.]
Suit yourself. [ emptying his sneakers of excess water, tony sets them and his socks aside and climbs to his feet. he leaves wet footprints as he pads to the house wall, where a compartment opens. he unreels the hose from it. ]
[He follows Tony, but politely turns his back to him again - he doesn't have much in the way of modesty, not after the war, but clearly Tony does, and he can't really blame him for that. His pawprints leave large wet marks on the concrete, dwarfing Tony's footprints.]
[ after twisting the knob on, tony turns. ] Really? Why's that? [ he says, playing dumb. without warning a stream of water hits simba in the back. tony waves the hose up and down, impersonal, like washing a car. ]
[The water from the hose is colder, and he flinches in surprise at the first sudden hit from it. He can't think for a moment, and he just blinks for a few seconds before he replies.]
I figured it'd be more the natural full-body fursuit, [ tony returns easily, spraying simba's legs. whatever the gion says next, tony slides up during it with an impish smile, then lifts simba's tail and blasts the hose on his butthole. ]
What? [ tony says it like absolutely nothing happened and he's genuinely asking. without breaking eye contact, he circles the stream around simba's crotch then holds it briefly over where each nipple would be. ]
[In a flash, he grabs the hose from Tony and turns it on him, spraying his crotch mercilessly. It's not the same, since Tony has clothes on, but it's something.]
Oof! [ tony tries to shield himself from the water with his hands and a twist of his hips, finally breaking into a smile and then into a fit of giggles. his eyes are crinkled. ] Don't. You'll get me excited.
[He makes a face at Tony and briefly squirts his chest before he turns the spray away from him and goes back to rinsing himself off. He's not sure if he's ready to give the hose back to Tony yet.]
Maybe I like the punishment. [ still grinning, tony saunters to a different compartment. this one slides out with a waft of steam. from it he drapes a heated towel around his neck. ]
After such crass treatment? [ tony pulls out a stack of four towels, each fluffy and warm like they're fresh out of the dryer, at the same time he mocks being offended. he kicks the compartment shut. ]
[ tony holds the towels out expectantly, anyway, with the faintest smirk. something in it feels triumphant, like the whole thing was tony discovering what buttons he can push and how far he can push them and he came out on top. ]
[He grins at Tony, showing those fangs - some as long as his hand - and takes the entire stack of towels from him. One, he wraps around his waist and secures deftly, and he starts using the others to dry off.]
[ tony's smirk widens briefly in approval. he claps simba on his beefy arm as he steps up beside him. ] I'm gonna shower and change. House is open to you. I'll find you when I'm done. [ he doesn't let go until he gets confirmation that it's all right; that the gion will be good on his own for a while. (thirty years alone, jesus.) once tony gets it, he smiles at him, this time kinder, and picks up his shoes, socks, and tablet–"those are yours!" he calls back, motioning to the bottles–before he bounds up the outside stairs to his bedroom. ]
[He nods his affirmation to Tony and keeps drying - once Tony's gone, he unties the towel from around his waist and tackles his lower half, then uses another towel on his torso, and a third on his mane. He can't really get his mane past "not dripping wet", but, hell, it's not like they didn't expect that.
He wraps the last towel around his waist again, collects his bottles, and heads back into the house. Though their tour earlier hadn't included the kitchen, it doesn't take him long to find it. Problem is, everything save the sink is practically unrecognizable - and, yeah, he can figure out what most of it does, like the stove, but using it is another thing entirely. So he just helps himself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator (and then another) and waits for Tony to find him again.]
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How kind of you to stoop to performing manual labor for my sake.
[It's remarkably easy to fall into a pattern of banter with someone he's only really known for two days, and strangely, it makes him feel more comfortable and grounded than he's felt in a long time.]
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All right, all right. [He takes the bottle and squeezes a dollop of shampoo into his palm, working it into the front of his mane.]
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his hands scrub professionally, but tony spares an idle scritch along the finer hairs atop simba's brow. ] Almost done, [ he whispers. all at once he feels how heavy his body is, too, the water on it aside. he hasn't slept really in–how long? hard to tell with the multiple time zone shifts the last twenty-four hours. maybe two days? he's napped a couple times, and he drank a shot of espresso before the plane landed, but the purring and his legs in the pool keeping his core warm are pulling him under. he can't sleep, though, not yet. he needs to put the suit back onto the gantry, find simba certain essentials asap, show him around the house...
a big yawn fights its way up. the scrubbing pauses for tony to cover his face with one arm, soapy hands held conscientiously away. he makes a "meh" sound and runs his hands through the last of the mane. ] There.
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Hose now?
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I think I'll be fine without it.
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It's gonna take ages to get me dry, you know.
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Something about being soaking wet, I imagine.
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What the fuck?
[Cue one Very Indignant Cat.]
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Asshole.
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Aren't cold showers supposed to do the opposite?
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Give me some towels?
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[He folds his arms over his chest.]
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[ tony holds the towels out expectantly, anyway, with the faintest smirk. something in it feels triumphant, like the whole thing was tony discovering what buttons he can push and how far he can push them and he came out on top. ]
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[He grins at Tony, showing those fangs - some as long as his hand - and takes the entire stack of towels from him. One, he wraps around his waist and secures deftly, and he starts using the others to dry off.]
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He wraps the last towel around his waist again, collects his bottles, and heads back into the house. Though their tour earlier hadn't included the kitchen, it doesn't take him long to find it. Problem is, everything save the sink is practically unrecognizable - and, yeah, he can figure out what most of it does, like the stove, but using it is another thing entirely. So he just helps himself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator (and then another) and waits for Tony to find him again.]
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