americas_son | (no subject)

He snorts.

"I could disguise it as a vampire attack."

. . . Cal laughs, for the first time in a while.

Sherlock grins.

"God, I almost feel sorry for him."

Except that he doesn't.

"Almost."

"But if he comes back a second time," Cal says, thinking of something the other Sherlock had said, "dibs on poisoning him."

"By all means."

Cal smiles at him.

No vampire Sherlocks on his watch. This one is staying safe and sound. And human. (Cal has been very aware of that the last couple of days - Sherlock's breath and warmth and all the other things a vampire doesn't have.)

All of which reminds him:

"I promised the other guy I'd keep him posted. That should be interesting."

"I can't imagine he'll disapprove of our solution," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

"I'm kind of surprised he didn't think of it when we were talking before," Cal admits.

They had gotten kind of caught up in talking about Stane's death, but. Still.

"Maybe he just thought it was really obvious."

"Or he never seriously considered it at all. I didn't, until that conversation pushed me to it."

Cal looks embarrassed.

"You mean until I went a little crazy on you," he corrects.

He feels like he maybe could have handled that a bit better.

"No," he says quietly, "I believe your reaction was entirely appropriate to the circumstances."

Cal flushes a little and looks away, shrugging awkwardly.

"I still could have not freaked out about it," he says.

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, I won't fault you for it."

"Okay," Cal mutters.

He'll just have to fault himself enough for both of them.

"Whatever, it worked out, anyway."

"Please don't accuse me of telepathy, but I'd rather you didn't fault yourself, either."

Cal glances up, but doesn't quite meet Sherlock's gaze, because he thinks he knows exactly what Sherlock will think of his response.

"I should be able to control stuff like that."

"Oh, but I am the one whose self-control is supposed to be beyond the mortal capacity."

Cal relaxes a little.

(It's true that if there's anyone he is allowed to lose it in front of, it's Sherlock, but he doesn't say that.)

"Well. I won't tell if you don't."

"Agreed."

Cal looks at him for real this time, meeting his eyes, and smiles a little.

"Deal."

Sherlock returns the smile.

. . . for - some unknown and unhelpful reason, Cal's brain chooses this moment to flick up the image of Tony with his face practically in Sherlock's crotch.

And for the second time in the past three minutes, Cal's face heats up as he looks away.

Stop being disgusting, he orders himself.

Hopefully, Sherlock won't ask. And - doesn't know. And . . . went blind sometime in the last five seconds and didn't notice anything at all.

No such luck.

He raises his eyebrows.