[He's pretty sure he doesn't believe that, but there's not much he can do about it short of pinning Tony down and sleeping on top of him. So instead, he shrugs and heads back up to his room.
First, he tucks the pack away in a corner of the closet, then swaps his towel for the sheet Tony gave him. With everything in order, he squeezes onto the bed in a curled up ball, but he can't get comfortable; first he pushes the entire bed up against the wall so he has the feeling of being surrounded on one side, like he's used to. It's better, but still not enough, and it takes him far too long to realize that the bed is too soft. He feels like he's sinking into the mattress, like it's quicksand - and while he can see where it would be considered comfortable, for someone who's not used to sleeping in a bed at all, it's smothering.
With a sigh, he moves the bed back into place and pulls the blankets and pillows off. A closet in the room yields a couple more blankets, and while it's not as thick as his nest of grass, it's a damn sight better than the bare concrete in Siberia. He nestles into the soft bedding, marveling at the feeling of an actual pillow under his head (well, part of his head), and finally drifts off to sleep.]
[ "good morning," jarvis's pleasant british voice sounds out hours later once sunlight has brightened the house. "it's 7am. the weather in malibu is..." he continues factually on about the temperature, the high and low, the cloud cover and surfing conditions. after that, his morning report to the two waking occupants in the house differs: downstairs, simba gets notified of jarvis's assistance in navigating around visitors, and also that he has yet to set his home preferences (alarms, room temperatures, lighting, preferred tv channels and websites, etc). meanwhile upstairs, tony, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, is told that miss potts is preparing breakfast.
so the day begins. the gion hears from tony only through jarvis. he'll be back tonight, jarvis says. the woman named pepper potts stays around the house, mostly in the eastern wings. at one point, outside simba's closed door, he can hear her and another man passing through the opposite bedroom. "–bits of straw and hair floating all over the pool," he's saying. her response is a steadfastly professional, "i find it best not to ask," before their voices and footsteps fade away again. finally in the late afternoon jarvis tells simba of her leaving and that there's a delivery of meat stocked in the now-crowded fridge: cuts of steak, a ham, and a turkey.
night rolls around. tony returns alone dressed in a full suit and tie, which he pulls loose the moment he's inside. ] Honey, I'm home! [ he calls out. "welcome home, sir," jarvis answers, but for once he isn't the honey tony meant. ]
[He blinks awake at the smooth British voice, reminds himself of Tony's...whatever. Invisible butler. "Too goddamn early," is the only preference he offers. "In fact, don't give me any alarms unless I ask for them." He hesitates, and then adds a "Please," because he doesn't want to come across as too brusque. But that doesn't keep him from rolling over and going back to sleep until Jarvis tells him it's safe to come out. He makes a few steaks and wolfs them down, then eyes the turkey. It looks complicated. Maybe Tony will have a better idea of what to do with it.
After that, he paces around the house, as much for something to do as anything else. At one point, he sprawls out on the faux fur rug in the living room and takes a nap in the late afternoon sunlight that slants across the floor.
When Tony comes home, he's cutting slices off the ham - still cold - and eating them. As big as the ham is, he's already demolished over half of it, and he doesn't show any signs of stopping.]
[ tony enters the kitchen stripped down to his slacks and shirt, cuffs and top button undone, and his dress shoes replaced with sneakers. some rogue bangs have loosened from his hairstyle and his face is flushed from a wash. ] I know that it takes too long, [ he answers easily, making for the fridge. he pauses, the door opened, then holds out a grabby hand at a slice of the smoked ham. he looks expectant. ]
[He takes Tony's look in and, for a second, forgets all about turkeys, and nearly forgets about the ham. Then he remembers what he's doing and neatly cuts a slice off, proffering it briefly on the point of the knife before he pulls it back.]
Where are your manners? Say please.
[Yes, Tony's being lectured about manners by a guy who spent decades living in a cave.]
[ tony narrows his eyes when teased, more assessing than angry. when that passes he tilts his head, looking at simba from the corner of his eyes, too prideful to bend. ] I'm not begging for table scraps. Gimme.
[He just snorts and extends the slice again. At least he's asking - sort of - instead of wordlessly demanding. That's probably about as good as he's going to get (and, to be fair, he's a guest in Tony's home, he shouldn't expect anything). But also-]
You this nice to all your guests?
[Also, he can't help being sassy, even though he knows damn well Tony's gone above and beyond to accommodate his needs.]
[ tony snatches the slice with a triumphant "thank you" and folds it whole into his mouth. even chewing and his mouth full, he shoots simba a closed, smug grin. sorry, can't answer, enjoying his victory ham. ]
[ tony's smile softens at the second offering. he takes it, but also signals a time-out while he chews and prepares a sandwich using the second slice. as he rummages in the fridge, the day's tension seeps out of him. there's no board member to argue with, no marketing plan to approve, no ten rings encampment to blast apart (wouldn't mind one, though). just the world's weirdest, most platonic roommate/sugar baby ever–which reminds him, he really needs to get that girlfriend. he should call up lina again. she's cute. he likes her.
tony swallows, finally. ] Whaz the... oh, yeah. Every couple days? Just until I find a supplier. Then we'll see about the long-term. [ he presses his finished ham sandwich together. ]
[Also, he's definitely finishing the ham right now. He takes his dirty dishes to the sink and starts running water to wash them, making a slight face at the prospect of having to dry his fur yet again. Washing dishes, as it turns out, is kind of annoying when you have paws.]
Gotta admit, it's a lot easier having the whole thing cut up and ready to cook. [He turns his head and gives Tony a wry smile.] I'm not much of a butcher, I'm afraid.
[ tony starts when he finds the platter empty and the ham gone. he estimated the amount to buy based on quick research, even ordered a bit more to be safe, but all that's really left after just a few hours is the turkey. okay, so simba's got calories to catch up on. tony'll order more in the next batch, and order it tonight, too. pepper will look at him funny (and also with the silent judgment of a healthy eater) for this "new diet" he's trying, especially when the meat vanishes faster than humanly possible, but she's a good girl. she won't pry.
he collects himself quickly. ] Hn. Well, [ tony claps simba on the shoulder, ] welcome back to human comforts. Speaking of which, what're you doing? Just leave that in the washer. It'll take care of it. [ to the room: ] JARVIS? Gimme news, [ he orders and bites into his sandwich. across the kitchen, on the windows, a screen like a TV pops up with a reporter talking about president-elect matthew ellis's cabinet choices, the volume mostly used as background noise. ]
[He looks a little bewildered by Tony's instructions, but opens the dishwasher - which he can only identify because Tony pointed it out last night - and puts the dishes inside. That's how it works, right? As he stands up, he catches a glimpse of the projection on the window. He's seen movies in color before, obviously, but newsreels? Not so much.]
No projector. JARVIS can display T.V. on all applicable surfaces, which are chiefly the windows, [ tony explains idly as he munches and watches. the news story switches then to the continuing piracy off the coast of somalia threatening fishers and international shipping alike. tony stands up straighter, his eyes sharpening. ]
Yup. Volume up ten notches. [ the sound grows louder, enough to fill the room. tony takes a slow bite of his sandwich, eyes glued to the news story with the quiet intensity of a man planning to Do Something. ]
[He has a lot of questions about this, but doesn't ask them just yet. The look on Tony's face reminds him of sitting in a darkened movie theater, watching men fight for their lives on grainy black and white footage. And, like then, all he can do is stay here.]
Don't let 'em knock you overboard, [he quips, but the joke falls flat.] Can't imagine you can maneuver much in water.
[ tony's eyes slice over to simba, the constant assessing in them switching targets. he's honestly surprised, firstly that simba could read his intentions so clearly and secondly that he's not protesting tony's involvement. rhodey would tell him to wait for official deployment that'd never come or come too slow, and pepper... pepper would get that anxious look on her face. she'd try to hide it behind a smile and a caveat to be back in time for work, but tony would see it. just nice to have someone in his corner without reservations, even if simba makes a jab at tony's little problem with being underwater, which... no, he probably just means because of the suit. still, it's a weakness tony needs to work on. he can fix both, and he will. ]
Good thing I can fly, [ he chirps back and pops the last bite into his mouth. he pushes off the counter and wipes his hands, bursting into action. ] JARVIS, all hands on deck. Link up to tac-satellites and any ins you get with the Russian and Indian navy databases off the Somali coast. Get chummy with the MSPA and International Maritime Bureau while you're at it.
[ "taking more vacation time, sir?" jarvis says. ]
You bet.
[ "compiling data and initiating mark iv suit-up." ]
[ tony smirks at simba, pride and certainty and purpose in every ounce of his frame. ] I'll shop for your toilet the flight over. Duty calls in more ways than one! [ with that terrible pun, he leaves for the hallway. ]
[Tony's gone before he can offer any more comments, so instead, since Jarvis assures him they'll have a long span of uninterrupted time, they get into a conversation about television, which leads to a discussion about computers and artificial intelligence. At one point, Jarvis helps him find paper and a pen, and he starts clumsily taking notes when the AI starts talking about the Internet. Unlike Tony, his program is able to simplify concepts tremendously, instead of expecting him to build on a pre-existing knowledge database that he simply doesn't have.
When he feels like he's about to fall asleep, he asks Jarvis to put on The Maltese Falcon, and he drifts off to the reassuring sounds of Bogey's voice.
Having learned from the previous morning, Jarvis doesn't wake him up with an alarm, but when he stretches and almost falls off the sofa, the AI does pipe up with his morning recitation. He waves it off and heads to the kitchen to make one of the remaining steaks and fry some (a half-dozen) eggs. While he's cooking, the TV pops up with news footage of Iron Man taking on the pirate vessels. He flawlessly executes some maneuvers that are, in his opinion, purposely flashy - but of course that's what Tony does. The important thing is that he's doing something, and he can't fault him for that.
By evening, when Tony returns, the turkey is soaking in a bath in the sink, as per Jarvis's advice, and he's flopped out on the couch watching Citizen Kane, looking more like a giant fur rug than anything else.]
[ tony makes two passes on the stairs in the living room: one coming up from the workshop in nothing but a thong again, and one coming down from his bedroom freshly showered and dressed in PJ pants and an undershirt. the first pass he doesn't say anything, but he does pause on the living room landing, drinking from a glass of clear alcohol with a cut lime on the rim, and watches the movie for a moment, unabashed in his thong. if simba looks over, tony just smiles and raises his glass in a cheer.
on the second pass, he bounces down with his tablet in hand, saying, ] I'm ordering pizza. Speak now or forever hold your peace, [ and plops into a recliner across from the couch, swiping at his screen. ]
[The sound of Tony coming upstairs wakes him up; he glances over and catches a glimpse of the underwear - or the lack thereof - and although his eyes widen slightly (although he tries to pretend he doesn't enjoy the view on some level), he doesn't seem especially perturbed by the near-nudity. He just goes back to watching the movie.
And when Tony mentions pizza-]
Two extra-large, heavy on the meat. Whatever meat they throw on, I don't care.
[A small part of him feels greedy for ordering so much, but he's also well aware that he can put it away without a problem.]
You wanna watch something else? [A beat, and then-] Maybe all that posing you did after you took care of the pirates?
[ tony sprawls his legs out, slouched back and head lowered to his screen. he waves off the offer at first–whatever simba is watching is fine–but then it's extended and a slow, secretive smile spreads across his face. that means simba watched coverage of him. tony glances up from beneath his brow. ] What can I say? I give the people what they want, and incidentally, they want me.
[He just rolls his eyes. He knows Tony does his heroic shenanigans for the right reasons, but he also seems to spend a lot of time preening and making sure people know about it, and that doesn't sit right with him. Maybe it's because he's a private kind of guy, because deep down he remembers what it's like when you're in the spotlight. People don't see you, they see who they want to see.]
When they wear me out. Enthusiastically, with multiple rounds. [ leering, tony taps more on his screen. he orders jumbo meat lovers for simba, a large cheese for him, and throws in some chicken tenders. ]
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First, he tucks the pack away in a corner of the closet, then swaps his towel for the sheet Tony gave him. With everything in order, he squeezes onto the bed in a curled up ball, but he can't get comfortable; first he pushes the entire bed up against the wall so he has the feeling of being surrounded on one side, like he's used to. It's better, but still not enough, and it takes him far too long to realize that the bed is too soft. He feels like he's sinking into the mattress, like it's quicksand - and while he can see where it would be considered comfortable, for someone who's not used to sleeping in a bed at all, it's smothering.
With a sigh, he moves the bed back into place and pulls the blankets and pillows off. A closet in the room yields a couple more blankets, and while it's not as thick as his nest of grass, it's a damn sight better than the bare concrete in Siberia. He nestles into the soft bedding, marveling at the feeling of an actual pillow under his head (well, part of his head), and finally drifts off to sleep.]
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so the day begins. the gion hears from tony only through jarvis. he'll be back tonight, jarvis says. the woman named pepper potts stays around the house, mostly in the eastern wings. at one point, outside simba's closed door, he can hear her and another man passing through the opposite bedroom. "–bits of straw and hair floating all over the pool," he's saying. her response is a steadfastly professional, "i find it best not to ask," before their voices and footsteps fade away again. finally in the late afternoon jarvis tells simba of her leaving and that there's a delivery of meat stocked in the now-crowded fridge: cuts of steak, a ham, and a turkey.
night rolls around. tony returns alone dressed in a full suit and tie, which he pulls loose the moment he's inside. ] Honey, I'm home! [ he calls out. "welcome home, sir," jarvis answers, but for once he isn't the honey tony meant. ]
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After that, he paces around the house, as much for something to do as anything else. At one point, he sprawls out on the faux fur rug in the living room and takes a nap in the late afternoon sunlight that slants across the floor.
When Tony comes home, he's cutting slices off the ham - still cold - and eating them. As big as the ham is, he's already demolished over half of it, and he doesn't show any signs of stopping.]
What do you know about cooking turkey?
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Where are your manners? Say please.
[Yes, Tony's being lectured about manners by a guy who spent decades living in a cave.]
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You this nice to all your guests?
[Also, he can't help being sassy, even though he knows damn well Tony's gone above and beyond to accommodate his needs.]
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How often are you planning on getting meat delivered? Just so I know.
[Because he's already worked his way through a decent amount of this delivery, barring the turkey.]
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tony swallows, finally. ] Whaz the... oh, yeah. Every couple days? Just until I find a supplier. Then we'll see about the long-term. [ he presses his finished ham sandwich together. ]
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[Also, he's definitely finishing the ham right now. He takes his dirty dishes to the sink and starts running water to wash them, making a slight face at the prospect of having to dry his fur yet again. Washing dishes, as it turns out, is kind of annoying when you have paws.]
Gotta admit, it's a lot easier having the whole thing cut up and ready to cook. [He turns his head and gives Tony a wry smile.] I'm not much of a butcher, I'm afraid.
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he collects himself quickly. ] Hn. Well, [ tony claps simba on the shoulder, ] welcome back to human comforts. Speaking of which, what're you doing? Just leave that in the washer. It'll take care of it. [ to the room: ] JARVIS? Gimme news, [ he orders and bites into his sandwich. across the kitchen, on the windows, a screen like a TV pops up with a reporter talking about president-elect matthew ellis's cabinet choices, the volume mostly used as background noise. ]
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[He looks a little bewildered by Tony's instructions, but opens the dishwasher - which he can only identify because Tony pointed it out last night - and puts the dishes inside. That's how it works, right? As he stands up, he catches a glimpse of the projection on the window. He's seen movies in color before, obviously, but newsreels? Not so much.]
Where's the screen? And the projector?
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[Although he's not sure he's going to get an answer, judging by the way Tony's paying attention to what's happening on the screen.]
That's happening now? It's not like a newsreel or something?
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Don't let 'em knock you overboard, [he quips, but the joke falls flat.] Can't imagine you can maneuver much in water.
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Good thing I can fly, [ he chirps back and pops the last bite into his mouth. he pushes off the counter and wipes his hands, bursting into action. ] JARVIS, all hands on deck. Link up to tac-satellites and any ins you get with the Russian and Indian navy databases off the Somali coast. Get chummy with the MSPA and International Maritime Bureau while you're at it.
[ "taking more vacation time, sir?" jarvis says. ]
You bet.
[ "compiling data and initiating mark iv suit-up." ]
[ tony smirks at simba, pride and certainty and purpose in every ounce of his frame. ] I'll shop for your toilet the flight over. Duty calls in more ways than one! [ with that terrible pun, he leaves for the hallway. ]
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When he feels like he's about to fall asleep, he asks Jarvis to put on The Maltese Falcon, and he drifts off to the reassuring sounds of Bogey's voice.
Having learned from the previous morning, Jarvis doesn't wake him up with an alarm, but when he stretches and almost falls off the sofa, the AI does pipe up with his morning recitation. He waves it off and heads to the kitchen to make one of the remaining steaks and fry some (a half-dozen) eggs. While he's cooking, the TV pops up with news footage of Iron Man taking on the pirate vessels. He flawlessly executes some maneuvers that are, in his opinion, purposely flashy - but of course that's what Tony does. The important thing is that he's doing something, and he can't fault him for that.
By evening, when Tony returns, the turkey is soaking in a bath in the sink, as per Jarvis's advice, and he's flopped out on the couch watching Citizen Kane, looking more like a giant fur rug than anything else.]
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on the second pass, he bounces down with his tablet in hand, saying, ] I'm ordering pizza. Speak now or forever hold your peace, [ and plops into a recliner across from the couch, swiping at his screen. ]
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And when Tony mentions pizza-]
Two extra-large, heavy on the meat. Whatever meat they throw on, I don't care.
[A small part of him feels greedy for ordering so much, but he's also well aware that he can put it away without a problem.]
You wanna watch something else? [A beat, and then-] Maybe all that posing you did after you took care of the pirates?
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[He just rolls his eyes. He knows Tony does his heroic shenanigans for the right reasons, but he also seems to spend a lot of time preening and making sure people know about it, and that doesn't sit right with him. Maybe it's because he's a private kind of guy, because deep down he remembers what it's like when you're in the spotlight. People don't see you, they see who they want to see.]
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Sorry to cramp your style.
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