ironmonger | (no subject)

Tony looks at Sherry, too.

He smiles benevolently at them both.

Obadiah snorts.

"To an extent."

"Shall I leave you two to catch up, or would you in fact rather I accompanied you?"

...Tony, remembering what it was they were going to catch up on, looks speculative all of a sudden.

"I suppose," Obadiah says, "that depends on how much of a tease you feel like being."

His tone is light, but his eyes - watching Tony - are thoughtful.

"I? I never promise anything I do not intend to deliver."

Beat.

"Except perhaps by request."

"...I vote all three of us go up to my room," says Tony, just a touch distractedly. "And talk."

"I'll second that."

The hint of distraction in Tony's voice is very promising.

"Sherlock?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He gets to his feet, comes forward, and gives Tony a quick kiss.

Does it have to be quick?

Obadiah doesn't mind if they take their time.

Good.

"Come along, love," Sherlock says eventually, stepping back, "before we break a rule."

"...right."

Somewhat dazed, he kisses Obadiah—just one for the road—and climbs out of his lap.

He can taste both of them in that kiss; it occurs to him briefly that it's the closest he's come to kissing Sherlock.

(A real kiss, with the right Sherlock. The other one's little charade didn't count.)

He gets up to follow them upstairs.

Sherlock leads. Somehow things just turned out that way.

The first words he says, when they are all in the room and he is closing the door behind them, are: "Would you like a drink?"

To Obadiah, of course. He knows Tony's answer.

"Yes, thank you."

It's certainly the only correct answer right now.

"All right."

He pours for both of them. Nothing for himself, of course.

Tony sprawls across the rightmost third of the couch, beams up at Obadiah, and pats the cushion beside him invitingly.

Obadiah accepts his drink with a murmured thank you and takes the seat Tony is offering, sitting close to him.

He snuggles up immediately and takes his own drink with a brief smile from which a thank-you can be seen to have long since eroded.

There is technically space between Tony and his arm of the couch, but it would be a tight fit. There is considerably more space on Obadiah's other side.

"D'you mind if I sit?" he asks, indicating the broad expanse of cushion.

Obadiah puts an arm around Tony's shoulders and smiles lazily up at Sherlock.

"Not at all."

He arranges himself delicately in the empty space, not exactly touching Obadiah, but not denying the potential that he could. If matters proceeded in that direction.

"Tony?" he asks, glancing past Obadiah to what little he can see of a fluffy black head. "This is, I believe, your show."