[ tony is halfway out of the kitchen when simba speaks up (after having doubled back to take the wine bottle, too, saying, "actually, since you won't appreciate this..."). he swings back in, the tilt of his head curious, then looks down at simba's paws along with him. nail clippers probably aren't gonna cut it–literally–but one of his cable cutters might. tony's about to say so when simba continues and asks him to do it.
tony slowly shuts his mouth. he could just supersize some clippers for simba to use like he has so much else, but simba asked him to do it. and tony did promise he'd take care of him, didn't he?
he's staring at simba's hands still. tony tears his eyes away. clears his throat. shrugs. ] Less of a time investment than replacing any furniture you'd inadvertently shred otherwise, so ... yeah. I got an idea. [ he stands awkwardly still, then jump-starts himself with a smile. ] To the shop! [ without waiting he rounds the corner to the basement staircase. ]
["I wasn't gonna use the couch as a scratching post," he mutters under his breath with a slight roll of his eyes. He knows Tony doesn't really mean that, though, so he doesn't take offense. Instead, he follows Tony downstairs, waiting for him to unlock the door to the shop.]
They got worn down naturally before, but now I'm not doing the same sort of thing, so... [He spreads his hands and shrugs.] It's just my hands, don't worry, I'm not asking you to trim my toenails.
[ tony only gives one of his noncommittal, distracted "uh-huh"s as he inputs his code and pops open the door. the workshop is already alive and lit from when he returned, DUM-E and U sweeping or pickings things off the floor and the screens at the main workstation displaying readouts on the armor. the wine bottle tony leaves on a cluttered table as he passes by and his glass on top of the metal cabinet he stops in front of, the drawers of which he rummages through, muttering to himself, "now where did i put you..." ]
[He sidetracks briefly to give DUM-E a fond pat (he likes to be nice to the bots, okay?), then takes a seat as he waits for Tony to find whatever tools he's looking for. Curling the fingers of his right hand slightly, he unsheathes the wicked curves of his claws. It's strange to have to actually trim them - or have them trimmed - because he's used to them wearing down naturally. But he doesn't want to go around ruining the furniture (or his tablet), either.]
[ tony finds the cutters in the second drawer he checks and knocks both closed with his hip. ] Got ya, [ he says to the red-handled five-inch cutters. walking to the couch, he holds them up and squeezes the handle twice. ] Time to get snipped. It's for your own good. [ he plops down beside simba, on the edge. ]
[He gives Tony a deeply unimpressed look. While he's been around Tony long enough to become familiar with his sense of humor, that's still a little close to the line. He flexes those claws again so that Tony gets a good look at them before he places his hand on Tony's thigh - and if those claws happen to be not too far from Tony's groin, he's sure it's just a coincidence.]
[ tony stifles a smirk, unbothered by the paw placement. he just grabs it and scoots it to a better spot, measuring the cutters against the claws. (he can barely fit his entire hand around two of simba's fingers, jesus. the paw is so big on his thigh. the gion's size really is something else.) ] How far down you want them cut? [ tony asks with a quick glance up as he fits the blades around one claw. ]
[He wonders if Tony got the point, so to speak, or misconstrued the whole thing for a clumsy seduction attempt. He doesn't think the latter would happen - there is nothing sexy about claws near your dick - but it's possible. Shoving the thought aside, he looks down at his claws.]
Mm. Somewhere between a quarter-inch and a half-inch. [He might not have any experience with trimming claws, but he's snagged them enough to know that they'll bleed if cut too far down. Even with his healing, it's not a fun time.]
Got it. [ tony adjusts the cutters and squeezes. after a quick crunch, the severed claw tip flies off onto the rug somewhere. ] How's that? Clean cut? You good for the rest? [ it's not bad, actually. getting to do this. sure, he can pay for all of simba's luxuries in life, but this feels more personal. as personal as simba tipping his delirious head up to drink, at least. ]
Perfect, [he assures Tony with a soft smile. He's been around Tony enough to know that the man likes having his ego stroked, or even just simple words of praise.] Go right ahead.
[He spreads his fingers a little to give Tony more room to work in between each one, though he'll also move them if necessary.]
[ tony ducks his eyes as a tiny smile twitches on his mouth. snip, goes the next claw, then onto the rest of the hand. ] I think this is where we're meant to talk about some hot gossip.
Them? I talk about DUM-E to his arm-face all the time. He earns it. [ tony says louder as he swivels his head to where DUM-E sweeps, ] Don't you, DUM-E? [ "wee-oooo..." laments DUM-E. ] That's right.
[ right paw is done. tony eyes simba's left. the cutters cut sideways, meant for wires, and he's right-handed. so the easiest angle would be... hm. he clicks his tongue in thought. ]
[ tony flicks his eyes up to simba with an indiscernible expression and stares him down like it's a stand-off. then, demeanor rapidly lifting, he chirps, ] Nope, [ and hops up. ] Scoot back. Don't be weird.
[ and tony fits himself right between simba's legs, facing away, before the gion even finishes his sentence. he lugs simba's left paw onto his thigh, same way as the first but now with simba's arm loosely around his waist, and hunches forward, intently focused on trimming the claws. the only contact besides their hands is at tony's hips and thighs, his legs spread, barely brushing simba's.
tony doesn't really understand why he did this, just that the initial idea teased at him, and that simba asking if there were a problem goaded him into enacting it. (tony's always gone for what he wants, so why shouldn't he now?) there was no problem, he thought defiantly, because it wouldn't mean anything. at least not to him. it would just be the easiest angle. that was all.
snip goes the first cut, tony strangely quiet. subtly, though, after the second cut, he relaxes, his legs resting against the gion's and his breathing again coming easier and deeper. ]
[He leans back and relaxes as Tony goes back to clipping his claws, and around the second or third cut, the familiar sound of purring rumbles in his chest. Without thinking, he tugs Tony so that his back is against his chest, though he leaves his arm loose enough that Tony can move away if he wants. His head dips a little, until it's closer to Tony's, and he nudges the back of Tony's head with his nose. He has the urge to bury his face in Tony's neck and nuzzle, wholly platonically, but that just seems like too much. He's definitely pushing boundaries as it is.]
[ tony grunts in surprise and freezes when tugged back. the cutter hovers in his hand near the fourth claw. on the tip of his tongue: he sat here for the best angle, not a cuddle session. but simba's purring rumbles against his back as good as any massage chair, and that means he's happy, right? tony can't ruin that. guy's probably starved for companionship as it is, and who can blame him after decades of fear and isolation? yeah. yeah, tony can allow this, solely–solely for simba's sake.
he settles back with a sigh and twists his head enough to glimpse a snout and whiskers. ] All right, Catsanova, [ he teases. ] Don't get too familiar. I am seeing someone.
[His whiskers lift up slightly in a slow smile. Whenever Tony makes him feel like this, everything seems slower, muted. His limbs are pleasantly heavy, and the rest of his muscles are relaxed. It's nice, and it's even nicer to have someone he can allow himself to be so unguarded around.]
Ha, ha, [he deadpans. He bumps his nose against Tony's head (softly).] You don't have any friends you can just relax with?
[And oh, his mind skitters away from that topic like he's about to touch a hot stove; a warning twinge at his temples is all he needs to make himself focus on the present, on Tony.]
[There's a huff of warm air against Tony's neck as he snorts.] I just mean someone you feel comfortable touching in a friendly way. Hugs or pats on the back or...whatever.
[He's not entirely certain if his desperate need for contact is a feline instinct, if he's been touch-starved for literal years, or both. But Tony hasn't pulled away yet, so he must be at least sort of okay with this.]
You have friends, right? [Tony doesn't talk about other people much - mostly himself, with one or two exceptions.]
Besides me, [he adds almost shyly. He's pretty sure Tony considers him a friend, because he probably wouldn't be doing this otherwise.]
[ hard to feel comfortable with pats on the back once you know anyone could stick a knife in it, comes the dark, unbidden thought. tony shoves it aside. no one wants to hear about his trust issues, least of all himself.
he pulls simba's paw closer in, now that he's leaning back. ] Sure. Loads. [ he clips the next claw. ] Spit into a crowd and you're practically guaranteed to hit someone on my contact list.
[He knows Tony knows that isn't what he meant - from what he's seen, the other man's life seems unusually solitary. But maybe Tony's just been forced to radically adjust to keeping someone like him hidden and safe.
As willing as he can be to take the burden of guilt on, he doesn't think that's really the right answer. If Tony had a thriving social life, he wouldn't have been so quick to sacrifice it to keep the modern equivalent of Frankenstein's monster in his house, and he sure wouldn't be spending so many nights just hanging out with him when he could be with normal people who understand what he says most of the time.]
Ah. [He doesn't want to start an argument, not when it might make Tony pull away - both physically and emotionally.] Well, good. Humans are social creatures.
Ugh. Don't phrase it like that. Makes me feel like I'm on National Geographic. [ final claw finished, tony carelessly tosses the cutter onto the coffee table, otherwise staying put. the physical contact loosens something in him, some lugnut now usually overtight, so he unknowingly clings to it. ]
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tony slowly shuts his mouth. he could just supersize some clippers for simba to use like he has so much else, but simba asked him to do it. and tony did promise he'd take care of him, didn't he?
he's staring at simba's hands still. tony tears his eyes away. clears his throat. shrugs. ] Less of a time investment than replacing any furniture you'd inadvertently shred otherwise, so ... yeah. I got an idea. [ he stands awkwardly still, then jump-starts himself with a smile. ] To the shop! [ without waiting he rounds the corner to the basement staircase. ]
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They got worn down naturally before, but now I'm not doing the same sort of thing, so... [He spreads his hands and shrugs.] It's just my hands, don't worry, I'm not asking you to trim my toenails.
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Hilarious, [he replies in a flat tone.]
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Mm. Somewhere between a quarter-inch and a half-inch. [He might not have any experience with trimming claws, but he's snagged them enough to know that they'll bleed if cut too far down. Even with his healing, it's not a fun time.]
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[He spreads his fingers a little to give Tony more room to work in between each one, though he'll also move them if necessary.]
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All of our mutual acquaintances are in this room, and I think it would be rude to gossip about them when they're right here.
[And they're robots.]
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[ right paw is done. tony eyes simba's left. the cutters cut sideways, meant for wires, and he's right-handed. so the easiest angle would be... hm. he clicks his tongue in thought. ]
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[But he knows Tony loves his bots - even DUM-E, in his own way.]
Problem?
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Pretty sure everything about me is weird, but okay.
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tony doesn't really understand why he did this, just that the initial idea teased at him, and that simba asking if there were a problem goaded him into enacting it. (tony's always gone for what he wants, so why shouldn't he now?) there was no problem, he thought defiantly, because it wouldn't mean anything. at least not to him. it would just be the easiest angle. that was all.
snip goes the first cut, tony strangely quiet. subtly, though, after the second cut, he relaxes, his legs resting against the gion's and his breathing again coming easier and deeper. ]
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he settles back with a sigh and twists his head enough to glimpse a snout and whiskers. ] All right, Catsanova, [ he teases. ] Don't get too familiar. I am seeing someone.
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Ha, ha, [he deadpans. He bumps his nose against Tony's head (softly).] You don't have any friends you can just relax with?
[And oh, his mind skitters away from that topic like he's about to touch a hot stove; a warning twinge at his temples is all he needs to make himself focus on the present, on Tony.]
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[He's not entirely certain if his desperate need for contact is a feline instinct, if he's been touch-starved for literal years, or both. But Tony hasn't pulled away yet, so he must be at least sort of okay with this.]
You have friends, right? [Tony doesn't talk about other people much - mostly himself, with one or two exceptions.]
Besides me, [he adds almost shyly. He's pretty sure Tony considers him a friend, because he probably wouldn't be doing this otherwise.]
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he pulls simba's paw closer in, now that he's leaning back. ] Sure. Loads. [ he clips the next claw. ] Spit into a crowd and you're practically guaranteed to hit someone on my contact list.
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As willing as he can be to take the burden of guilt on, he doesn't think that's really the right answer. If Tony had a thriving social life, he wouldn't have been so quick to sacrifice it to keep the modern equivalent of Frankenstein's monster in his house, and he sure wouldn't be spending so many nights just hanging out with him when he could be with normal people who understand what he says most of the time.]
Ah. [He doesn't want to start an argument, not when it might make Tony pull away - both physically and emotionally.] Well, good. Humans are social creatures.
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