americas_son | Sunnydale AU: careful of the curse

Cal holds on to him, thinking of how Sherlock held him as he finally cried for his father.

(He hasn't cried over it since.

He doesn't know if he'd be able to stop.)

He's nowhere near tears this time, though; he breathes carefully for a moment, composing himself, then says,

"The furniture's not gonna move itself."

"All right."

Sherlock lets go and steps back.

"Can you manage the desk if I take the chair?"

Cal eyes it.

"Let's find out."

It turn out that he can, more or less, pushing it toward the door. It's lighter than he would have expected.

"It'll fit in nicely at the end of the hall, I think. I'll relocate the chair and then come back to give you a hand."

He does exactly that. The vaguely office-like room at the end of the hall is small, but sparsely furnished; the desk will indeed fit just fine.

When they get the desk into the little room, Cal leans against it to get his breath back.

He doesn't really get a lot of sustained exercise.

Sherlock waits politely for him.

"The bed next?"

They are, he realizes, going to have to take it apart to get it through the door.

Well. It'll be easier to carry.

"That may present a little more difficulty, but yes."

"We'll need . . ." He gestures vaguely.

Tools of some kind. Probably.

"I don't believe so, actually. Not for this one. Shall we find out?"

Cal straightens up.

"Okay."

He leads the way back down the hall.

As it turns out, once they have extracted the mattress, the frame comes apart quite tidily.

Cal appreciates this, as it makes the whole process go a bit faster. And he doesn't have to deal with trying to use tools.

In the end, the mattress stays. Tina may as well be comfortable before her transformation, and no one else in this house will ever be particularly keen to sleep on that thing.

There isn't much else in the room to worry about - a couple random paintings on the walls, which are easy to move, and a rug.

Eventually, they end up in their living room. Cal has a fresh soda and is pretending that project didn't take as much out of him as it did.

Sherlock is pretending to believe him.

Not, mind you, pretending very hard.

He's pretending more for his own benefit than Sherlock's, anyway. If he lets himself feel how tired he is now, he won't be awake for Tina.

He'll sleep while she's transformed, if he can.

What a sensible idea.

Tina wakes up after a long and restful sleep. She didn't dream, she doesn't feel drugged - whatever that sedative was did the trick. She almost feels normal. Then she remembers why she's here in a strange guestroom. She closes her eyes tightly against the tears.

She gets out of bed and puts her jeans back on. She's really, really hungry. When she opens the door of the guest room, she smells lingering scents of cooked food, and her stomach growls.

She also detects Cal's scent, and Sherlock's, too. They aren't far away. If it weren't horrific and embarrassing, it would be kind of neat the way she can find people now. She wipes the sleep from her eyes as she pads down the hall in her bare feet.

"Hey."

Cal looks up at the sound of her voice and smiles.

"Hey."

He gets up and goes over to her.

"How you feeling?"

Better would be a lie, as would okay.

"Rested. I needed that sleep. And, um, hungry? May I make a sandwich or something, if that's okay?"

"Of course. And if you would like anything more complicated, I and my kitchen are at your service."

"I'd, um, if it's okay, maybe something hot?"

She'd like steak. Or hamburger meat. Or... oh, god.

At least she wasn't a vegetarian or anything. Before.

"But not if it's a trouble. I've been enough trouble."

He smiles. "It's fine. I like to cook. Shall we?"

Cal reaches over to take Tina's hand.

"Let's."

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