americas_son | (no subject)

Cal's grip on Sherlock relaxes comfortably, Sherlock's laughter just making him laugh more. He was right, they do both need this, after everything not only with Tony, but with Tina -

Tina.

Cal stills.

Immediately, so does Sherlock.

Analysis hasn't quite clicked back into gear; he doesn't see it yet.

Shit. He wasn't going to do this this time. Not to Tina.

He lets go of Sherlock, unsure of what to do next.

Oh.

And there it is.

He climbs out of Cal's lap and sits beside him again—very much within touching distance but not, in fact, touching.

Cal slumps back against the couch, hands over his face.

"I have a girlfriend," he says, muffled.

"I really ought to have remembered that," Sherlock says ruefully.

"I should have remembered that," Cal says helplessly. "God, I'm so bad at this."

Why had he thought he could be any different?

"At least this time I picked my best friend instead of hers."

He can't help it; he smiles.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just like my dad. I can't fucking keep it in my pants."

Whatever it is that lets other people make the decision to be faithful and stick to it, it's broken in him. It must be. Wouldn't he eventually learn from his mistakes otherwise?

"I hardly think that's a fair assessment," Sherlock says gently.

"I've cheated on every girlfriend I've ever had," Cal says flatly.

He thinks Sherlock Holmes can figure out how damning that evidence is all on his own.

"And here you are. When you noticed, you stopped. Anyone can act thoughtlessly under stress."

Even Sherlock, apparently.

"I shouldn't have to think about it," Cal snaps. "Normal people don't have to. They don't go around making out with their best friends behind their girlfriends' backs because they had a bad day. They just know it's wrong, so they don't fucking do it."

"Normal people also do not think they are Sherlock Holmes," he points out. "And I believe you'll find rather a lot of normal people think about it and then go ahead regardless."

"I wasn't talking about you," Cal counters.

The mysterious Bella has not arrived on the scene yet, if she exists in their world. Sherlock is free to make out with whoever he wants.

"Why not? If it was wrong for you to transgress the boundaries of your relationship it was as wrong for me to interfere."

How is it Cal has always justified sleeping with someone who has a boyfriend? (Or, sometimes, a husband?)

Right.

"I'm not a kid, I can make my own decisions. You don't have to make them for me."

"And yet, I judge that I should not have contributed."

(And yet, he can't make himself regret it.)

"Fine." Cal doesn't want to argue about it. "That doesn't make me any less fucked up."

He hesitates, then confesses,

"I just don't get it. It doesn't make any sense." It's embarrassing to admit that out loud, that he doesn't understand something that's so obvious to everyone else.

But then, what else is new?

"Would you believe me if I said that neither do I?"

"No offense, Sherlock," Cal says, "but there's kind of a lot of stuff you don't get."

Or don't care to get. Whichever.

"True," he acknowledges. "Despite my best efforts I am still not quite able to pass for—ordinary."

Human. No, let's not make this conversation about that.

Cal is deeply skeptical of the idea that Sherlock actually puts his best efforts into that department. He flicks Sherlock a look that says as much, but doesn't go any further into it than that.

"But even if I don't get it, I should still be able to not do it. But I guess I'm just a shitty boyfriend." Despite his own best efforts. Which obviously suck.

All right, Sherlock has absolutely no useful advice at this juncture.

Cal takes his silence for agreement. What else could it be? Cal's right. Anyone would think so.

He sighs.

"I'm sorry."