ironmonger | (no subject)

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."

He sips his drink and grins a little into the glass.

"What you said about locking me up," he prompts, glancing up at Obadiah. "Was Sherry just having fun with us or is there something there?"

An imaginary something, of course. That goes without saying. (But Obadiah will say it anyway, and Tony will love him for it.)

"There could be," he says reflectively, sipping his drink.

(As he raises the glass, he doesn't go out of his way to either touch Sherlock or avoid touching Sherlock with the motion of his arm.)

"I doubt it would be difficult to get a room here set up just right."

"Ever thought about it, though?"

There's something a little bit different about having this kind of conversation with Sherry there, but it's not a lot different.

Sherry was sort of always there anyway.

Obadiah sounds slightly amused.

"I'm thinking about it now.

"It's come up from time to time, sure. Sort of a logical extension of the other one. Having you around whenever I want."

"Well, I think it's pretty hot."

Tony has his own category of obvious things that he says out loud anyway.

"Where do I come in, I wonder," murmurs Sherlock, with an exquisite sense of timing.

Obadiah need only give this a couple seconds' thought before he answers.

"You're in on it, of course. How else would I lure Tony in in the first place?"

"...Damn," Tony sighs, melting instantly. "I love you guys, have I mentioned that?"

He grins. Sharply.

"I like it."

Obadiah grins back.

"I thought you might."

"And of course, if you would like to betray me and lock me in with him after a while, I am sure that can be arranged."

Sherlock can play this game from either side.

"That would be the next obvious step," Obadiah agrees.

He'll have to set up a way he can watch them. Something quaint like a one-way mirror that they could pretend to ignore.

"I like it," he repeats.

"Me too."

And he will be there, so it will be okay. Everything will be fine.

"Good," Obadiah says, giving Tony a gentle squeeze.

"I have to admit," he adds to Sherlock, "that getting the decisive upper hand over you for a change has its appeal."

He smiles.

"I know," he says comfortably. "Do what you like with it."

For the most part, his complete assurance rests on the fact that Obadiah wouldn't dare break him in front of Tony.

For the most part.

"Oh, I will," Obadiah promises.

(Within reason, of course.

For the most part.)

His smile widens slightly, rather as though he can tell.

"Play nice," teases Tony, who can't.

"Of course," Obadiah remarks, "it occurs to me that once the tables have turned, Tony might have a thing or two to say about your betrayal of him."

Perhaps Obadiah could help him say them as clearly as possible.

...Tony thinks this over.

Still thinking.