ironmonger | (no subject)

He shivers happily, just the way Tony would. Just the way Tony has, when Obadiah has done things like this before.

There is less and less room for Sherlock under the things he needs to feel in order to keep being Tony. Not once does it occur to him to stop. He (or maybe Tony) is having way too much fun, for one thing.

Not forceful enough, then. He'd expected as much. It still gives him a place to start.

He lingers there for a moment, little feather-light caresses over the small of Sherlock's back. Then he reaches swiftly around to the front to undo the button at Sherlock's fly, and flick the zipper down a little. Just a little, just enough to give himself room when he presses his hands back where they were before and slides them down, under Sherlock's trousers and the band of his boxers to cup his ass in both hands. He moves quickly, not leaving much time for any objection that might be forthcoming.

His breath flutters out of him; he presses into the contact and murmurs, with obvious sincerity and no forethought whatsoever, "I love you."

That, it has to be said, is not quite the reaction he was expecting.

The realization of what just came out of his mouth hits him rather like a bucket of cold water to the face. Possibly with bucket included.

He shakes his head once, already flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he says in his own voice. "I—forgot I wasn't—I'm sorry."

That may very well be the least coherent eight-word sequence Obadiah has ever heard out of Sherlock Holmes. 'Flustered' is not exactly a common state of being for him.

Well. It isn't quite the victory he was looking for, but he'll certainly take it.

"It's all right, Sherlock," he says soothingly, removing his hands and fastening Sherlock's fly back up. "You got caught up, I understand. I don't mind."

"Thank you," he says, and—rather impulsively, but otherwise nothing at all like Tony—gives Obadiah a quick peck on the lips.

He chuckles.

(The affection he infuses the sound with isn't quite entirely false.)

"You're very welcome."

Well.

Despite being quite comfortable in Obadiah's lap, he thinks it is probably past time he left it; but when he does, he tucks himself up against Obadiah's side with his feet stretched out along the empty couch, preferring not to relinquish the physical contact.

"Apart from that, however, it was a very successful experiment." He crosses his arms over his stomach and leans his head on Obadiah's shoulder. "Thank you again. Is there something you would like to know in return?"

There is always something else Obadiah would like to know.

In this case:

"Why the sudden change toward me?"

"Tony," he says, which contains the whole of the truth but describes it inadequately.

"He loves you. Very much. You... take more care with him than I had expected." Softly: "I cannot help liking anyone who makes Tony smile like that."

"That's all it takes with you, huh?"

Not much of a surprise. It's not like Sherlock is especially subtle about it. (Either Sherlock. It did not escape Obadiah's notice that the other Sherlock's hatred of him vanished when Obadiah made his desire to rescue Tony crystal clear. Hell, he might even approve of the truth behind Obadiah's own "abduction" if he ever figures it out.)

"Always," he agrees, smiling.

(He would. Absolutely. He would not overlook the fact that Obadiah could have simply not murdered them, but Obadiah still made a sacrifice for Tony's sake and Sherlock cannot fail to acknowledge that.)

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

Here, it's a not-unwelcome fringe benefit. At home, it could be very useful someday.

He snorts softly, but doesn't caution Obadiah against attempting a campaign of seduction on Tony at home, because he expects Obadiah to know better. And there are countless other ways to make Tony smile.

Although perhaps not quite like that.

Of course he knows better.

(If he were going to try something with that Tony, he would have done it long before the meeting in Milliways.)

"Tony benefits regardless," he says mildly, "you can't argue with that."

"I am only thinking that you cannot make that Tony happy in quite the same way you did with this one."

Some creativity will be required!

That is another thing Sherlock trusts this Obadiah to have.

He chuckles.

"No, I can't," he agrees. "But I'll come up with something."

Possibly several somethings. Best to have more than one iron in the fire.

"Buy him a car," he suggests, and laughs. "No, don't; he has always been rather indifferent to gifts, particularly of things he would rather pick for himself."

"No, that's what I would do if I didn't particularly care what he thought," he agrees.

"Unless," he says thoughtfully, "you have Tony pick the car."

He considers this.

"True," he concedes. "I could arrange for a private show of models that aren't on the market yet."

"Have my Tony pick the car," Sherlock clarifies, "and surprise him with it. Which will have the added benefit of making Sherlock fret about where you are hiding your extra Tony all over again."

He laughs.

"You know," he says, "I'm starting to like the way you think."

Sherlock grins up at him. "I believe I will choose to take that as a compliment."