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. ]
Can't imagine what that must feel like, [he retorts wryly. But there's no real bite to it, not with Tony a warm weight against his chest. He lifts one hand up, flexing his claws and looking at the length. It's strange having them blunted like this, but it's not like he needs them to be razor sharp points. In fact, it's probably better for Tony's blankets.]
Thanks, [he adds, and he doesn't just mean for this. He knows he inconveniences Tony a lot, that having him here isn't the easiest thing, but it's already hard for him to imagine going back to living in a cave and cooking over a fire.]
[ to the side, tony whistles and points downward. he says, "dum-e. claw clippings on my rug. take care of 'em," and dum-e beeps in answer and rolls to a cabinet. satisfied with that, tony watches simba flex his trimmed claws, admiring his own handiwork. then, the thought invasive, he compares the size of simba's forearm to his own neck and trips on how the gion's biceps are even thicker. ]
Hm? Oh. [ he tears his eyes away, the distraction deemed unimportant and thus forgotten. ] Yeah, sure. Remember to leave a tip and set up your next appointment.
[He's vaguely aware of inflation and the fact that it exists, but to him, a dime would be a pretty good-sized tip. The thought of flipping Tony a coin is somehow amusing - like he even needs the money. Not like it was back in the day, when a nickel could buy you dinner.]
You'll have to take an IOU.
[Like he's ever going to have his own money again - although he's sure Tony would give it to him if he actually needed it. But he doesn't, because he doesn't ever leave the house. He feels restless suddenly, and he knows it's silly. He lives in the lap of luxury, after all. He doesn't need to leave Tony's house, but he still wants to see what it's like outside, in the real world.]
Freeloader, [ tony calls him with a quick sly but fond smirk and look from the corner of his eye. from dum-e's direction, something metallic clangs, but this is apparently normal and gets no reaction. ]
[It's become normal enough for him in a short time that he doesn't even react to the clang of metal. Instead, he chuckles deep in his chest.]
I just made you dinner, that's gotta count for something, right?
[Not enough to balance the hypothetical scales, he knows that, but at least it's one small thing he can do for Tony. Someone has to make sure he eats regularly, anyway.]
[ the chuckle constricts tony's chest, a feeling similar to when he spied pepper in her blue dress across the ballroom floor. he doesn't know how to define it, so tony breathes in deep past it, or as much as he can with his reduced lung capacity. ] Sure, if you learn to cook something more than meat. I'm as red-blooded as any male, but variety is a spice.
[ in truth, he considers the debt to still be weighted toward his end. saving his life, giving him this second chance, really tips the scales. if only he could've repaid yinsen in person, too. ]
[He nudges Tony's head slightly with his, somewhere between a headbutt and a face rub. Whatever it is, it's friendly and (platonically) affectionate, something more than a little feline.]
I've only been doing this cooking thing - with a real kitchen - for a couple weeks, okay? Go easy on me. It's a big step up from a fire and one pot. And I still don't know what half the stuff in the refrigerator is.
[ "oh my god, a carrot?" gasps tony, open hand held to his chest with mock excitement, but the nudge from simba quickly breaks the act and pushes out a quiet smile from him. if he were better positioned, tony might be tempted to scratch around the gion's ears and cheeks. he knows simba likes that.
the gion continues and dum-e wheels into view carrying a handheld vacuum. tony watches him crane his arm close to the rug, waiting for the inevitable interruption. ] More than I've done in a couple dec– [ he starts, then VRRRROOOOOMM MMMMM OOOMMMMMM, yells dume's vacuum, oblivious to any conversation. aaand there it is. ]
[He might not react to a vacuum like a normal cat does, but he does flatten his ears against his head at the noise; his sense of hearing is too acute for him to tolerate it too long.]
Gotta do it over the trash can next time, [he mutters, not necessarily for Tony to hear, just as an aside to himself. Sighing, he raises his voice a little.]
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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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Thanks, [he adds, and he doesn't just mean for this. He knows he inconveniences Tony a lot, that having him here isn't the easiest thing, but it's already hard for him to imagine going back to living in a cave and cooking over a fire.]
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Hm? Oh. [ he tears his eyes away, the distraction deemed unimportant and thus forgotten. ] Yeah, sure. Remember to leave a tip and set up your next appointment.
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[He's vaguely aware of inflation and the fact that it exists, but to him, a dime would be a pretty good-sized tip. The thought of flipping Tony a coin is somehow amusing - like he even needs the money. Not like it was back in the day, when a nickel could buy you dinner.]
You'll have to take an IOU.
[Like he's ever going to have his own money again - although he's sure Tony would give it to him if he actually needed it. But he doesn't, because he doesn't ever leave the house. He feels restless suddenly, and he knows it's silly. He lives in the lap of luxury, after all. He doesn't need to leave Tony's house, but he still wants to see what it's like outside, in the real world.]
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I just made you dinner, that's gotta count for something, right?
[Not enough to balance the hypothetical scales, he knows that, but at least it's one small thing he can do for Tony. Someone has to make sure he eats regularly, anyway.]
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[ in truth, he considers the debt to still be weighted toward his end. saving his life, giving him this second chance, really tips the scales. if only he could've repaid yinsen in person, too. ]
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[He nudges Tony's head slightly with his, somewhere between a headbutt and a face rub. Whatever it is, it's friendly and (platonically) affectionate, something more than a little feline.]
I've only been doing this cooking thing - with a real kitchen - for a couple weeks, okay? Go easy on me. It's a big step up from a fire and one pot. And I still don't know what half the stuff in the refrigerator is.
[What do you even do with an avocado?]
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the gion continues and dum-e wheels into view carrying a handheld vacuum. tony watches him crane his arm close to the rug, waiting for the inevitable interruption. ] More than I've done in a couple dec– [ he starts, then VRRRROOOOOMM MMMMM OOOMMMMMM, yells dume's vacuum, oblivious to any conversation. aaand there it is. ]
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Gotta do it over the trash can next time, [he mutters, not necessarily for Tony to hear, just as an aside to himself. Sighing, he raises his voice a little.]
You mind getting up?
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