Sunnydale AU: careful of the curse

[americas_son]

Tina is finally asleep. Richard has been and gone, leaving a mild sedative so she can sleep between transformations. Cal closes the guestroom door quietly behind him, trying to think through his own physical and emotional exhaustion (and low blood sugar, and nicotine withdrawal) to decide exactly where Sherlock will be.

Comments

[if_inconvenient]

Try just coming down the stairs.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal looks up.

"Hey," he says, thin and tired.

[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock hugs him.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal leans into him, lowering his head to press his face into Sherlock's shoulder.

"Thanks," he says quietly.

[if_inconvenient]

"Any time."

He smiles, faint and sad.

"She is all right for now; are you?"

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

There's a brief pause before the answer.

"No."

[if_inconvenient]

...Sherlock hugs him a little tighter.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

It's okay for him to not be all right right now, he reminds himself. Tina is asleep. He can lose it a little bit and get it out of his system and she'll never know, and he'll be okay by the time she wakes up.

He leans on Sherlock for a moment longer before pulling away.

"I need a cigarette." That, at least, is an easy fix.

[if_inconvenient]

"Shall we, then?" he asks, leading the way down the stairs.

Does anyone ever go out the back door of the Stark place to have a nice conversation?

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

"Yeah."

Cal does indeed snort a little to himself as they step outside and he gets out his pack, remembering the last couple of times he stood out here with someone.

As he did both times before, he slips a cigarette out of the pack for himself, then offers it to his companion.

[if_inconvenient]

This time, Sherlock takes it.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal lights up, then hands his lighter to Sherlock. He takes a deep drag, and feels something un-knot as the nicotine enters his bloodstream. It's just one of many knots that have been tying themselves since Mrs McCoy asked if Tina was with him, but it still helps.

[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock has been keeping his smoking habit minimal lest it interfere with his sense of smell to an unacceptable degree, but if now isn't a good moment to indulge, what is? He blows a thick grey breath out across the porch and hands Cal back his lighter.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal smokes in silence for a few minutes, feeling his body's other complaints start to really register.

(It's easiest to think about that.)

He's been so tense that without the adrenalin that's been continuously flooding him, it feels like he's been awake for days instead of hours; he hasn't eaten since dinner last night; his careless race through the patch of forest toward Tina has left a few sore spots that will probably be bruises tomorrow.

"Is there anything in the kitchen?" he asks, when his cigarette is half gone.

[if_inconvenient]

"There certainly could be."

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

"I skipped breakfast."

This is the first time all day he's even thought about food.

[if_inconvenient]

"I can see that, now you mention it. Shall I produce dinner?"

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal smiles faintly.

"That'd be great."

[if_inconvenient]

"In that case, I will."

He extinguishes his half-finished cigarette on the ground and steps back inside.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal finishes his own cigarette, staring up at the sky.

When he's done, he puts it out and goes back inside, stopping by the bathroom before he heads into the kitchen.

[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock is cooking, as promised. Pasta.

"Have a seat," he invites without turning away from the stove.

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal grabs a soda from the fridge first. Caffeine. Might as well have some before he starts feeling the effects of that withdrawal, too.

He takes a seat at the table, cracking the can open.

"Thanks."

[if_inconvenient]

"It's no trouble."

[americas-son.livejournal.com]

Cal smiles a little against the rim of the can.

"Still."

(The fact that Sherlock doesn't consider it any trouble is kind of the point.)

[if_inconvenient]

He glances up and quirks an eyebrow.