if_inconvenient | (no subject)

What incredibly appropriate timing: Sherlock hears a noise from the basement stairwell, as of an approaching genius. (Obadiah, who's closer, doesn't. Sherlock has good ears.)

Cal, of course, doesn't either. His focus is on Obadiah, anyway.

In the next second, the clatter of Tony's approach becomes audible to everyone. He emerges from the basement dressed in sweatpants and a grease-stained tank top, with black grime under his fingernails and his hair still mussed from the safety goggles he left downstairs, and when he sees who's in the foyer he lights up like a gleeful Christmas tree.

"Obie! Hey, good to see you, man!"

He shakes Obie's hand and then hugs him, laughing, conscious but careless of the hell he is wreaking on that immaculate suit. Obadiah doesn't seem to mind; when he hugs back, his smile is as warm as Tony's.

The difference is, only one of them means it.

When Tony pulls back, he notices Cal at last and grins sheepishly. "Oh, hey." They've met before, he's sure of it, but the name escapes him at the moment.

The contrast between Tony's sincerity and Obadiah's resounding lack thereof is so clear that it distracts Cal completely from whatever vibes Obadiah may or may not have been putting out there a moment ago.

Well, shit.

"Hey, Tony," Cal says comfortably, without a hint of the rising dismay he's feeling.

He'd really have thought Tony would be smarter than that.

"You've met Cal, haven't you?" Sherlock provides.

"Yeah, right." Tony brightens a little. "You're—yeah, I know you."

(He avoids mentioning the bar just in time. Obie would want answers he's not qualified to give.)

"We have English together," Cal supplies.

That is a total lie, but the necessity of avoiding a mention of Milliways is obvious, and going to the same school is handy for that.

Tony catches on to this lie!

"Totally. Y'know, when I show up."

Tony is a bad liar, but sometimes he makes it work for him.

"Look, uh," he addresses Obie again, "you've probably got your car outside, right? Why don't you bring that in while I go grab a shower and quit getting motor oil all over everything?"

"Yes, thank you, Tony. You know how much I love these dry cleaning bills."

"Oh, bite me," Tony retorts with an easy grin. "I'll make it up to you. Send me the specs for that stealth fighter they're having trouble with in R&D. If I can get that working I bet it'll cover a little laundry. Anyways, see you in a bit." And he's off, headed for the stairs to the third floor.

"Well," says Obadiah, "I think that's my exit cue."

Cal, who had toned the persona down a little to talk to Tony, plays it back up again with a bright smile.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr Stane."

The "exit cue" thing is the first thing Obadiah has said that Cal has honestly agreed with.

"Absolutely. It's good to see Sherlock making friends. I worry about you, too, you know." He puts a hand on Sherlock's shoulder for a moment. They smile at each other, Obadiah with his patronizing fake fondness, Sherlock with undisguised loathing.

Then Obadiah turns away and walks out the door, his suit jacket still wrinkled and stained from Tony's hug.

"Well," says Sherlock, as soon as the door is firmly shut again. "I am sorry to have exposed you to that particular feud. I don't like him because he lies to Tony, and he doesn't like me because I notice."

The fake Cal drops away the second the door closes behind Obadiah, leaving the perturbed-looking real one in his place. He runs his hand through his hair, saying,

"Of course you do, he sucks at it."

"Does he now," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

"I knew he was full of shit the second I heard him start talking," Cal says. "He sounds like every politician ever. Except no one would vote for him."

"I certainly wouldn't, but it has occurred to me that my opinion may be biased. To find outside confirmation is... informative."

Cal glances at him.

"You're not wrong," he says. "He's pretty much an asshole."

This declaration comes with a matter-of-fact confidence that doesn't get heard from Cal very often. He knows he doesn't know much, but when it comes to identifying a particular kind of person, he's an expert. And Obadiah Stane falls into that category so neatly Cal has a hard time believing, even knowing not everyone has his experience, that other people can't see it, too.

He sighs.

"Thank you," he says, a little tiredly and completely without irony, "for providing an expert analysis."

"Any time."

Cal pauses, then,

"Tony really buys into his shit, huh?"

(He almost said something else, but decided against it.

He's just paranoid these days, that's all.)

"Yes," he confirms. "Tony does. And I... I have never been sure. Nor have I ever been able to convince Tony of my doubts."

Cal can understand that a little better.

It sucks to find out that someone you thought was basically okay, maybe even used to like when you were younger, turns out to be a fucking creep.

Cal has a bias of his own when it comes to that.

"Well," he says. "Now you know."

"Yes. Now I do."

He looks pensive.

(Never theorize in advance of your data.)

Cal sighs a little himself.

"C'mon," he says, "let's go watch the movie." He's not any more interested than Sherlock probably is at this point, but he doesn't know what else to offer. At least it's something else to think about.

(If it had been real, Sherlock would have noticed anyway, right?)

"Let's," Sherlock agrees, not very enthusiastically.

A newly showered Tony comes hurtling down the stairs in cleaner, nicer clothing with not a speck of grease in sight. Yes, he still slides down the banister. Yes, he had it reinforced to be sure it would to take his weight. He's a dumb teenage genius engineer, okay?

"Hi guys, bye guys," he says, breezing past them on his way to the basement.

Somehow, Cal doesn't think Tony is paying them very close attention, so he doesn't put a ton of effort into the brief acknowledging response.

Sherlock smiles a little despite himself. He does love Tony. Even more than Obie pretends to.