if_inconvenient | (no subject)

For that, Tony will give him the flattest look in the history of flat looks.

"Cool it."

"I was just—"

"And now you're just shutting up."

Obie raises his hands in surrender, still smiling gently. After a moment, Tony relaxes and goes back to his pizza.

So occasionally he does notice. Or occasionally he decides to let it bother him. Frankly Cal doesn't see what was worse about that than anything Obadiah's said to Sherlock so far, but - okay, fine. At least it was something.

"We were watching a time travel movie," he non-explains; he's still addressing Tony, not Obadiah, and adds a look that says We'll tell you the real story later. It's not a subtle look, but one designed to let Obadiah know, silently but clearly, that he is not included.

Hopefully Tony will pick the more innocuous Milliways-related translation.

"Oh, right."

He grins.

Tony is not, in fact, a terribly subtle person. He is just about up to the task of not immediately blabbing the existence of Milliways; also finding some way to not exclude Obie, who kind of can't know what the hell everyone is talking about, is beyond him.

Something was worse about that, judging by how Sherlock reacted—the disproportionate tension when Obadiah spoke, the disproportionate relaxation now that Tony has come to his defense.

Cal, focused mainly on Tony (and on telling Obadiah to go fuck himself with such discretion that even Violet would be proud), didn't really notice Sherlock's reaction. He does turn to Sherlock now, though, and say,

"If you don't mind, I think I'm officially out of excuses for putting off studying."

Let's get the hell out of here now.

"By all means."

He gets to his feet.

"Shall I see you out?"

"Sure." If Sherlock comes up with an excuse to leave with him between here and the front door, Cal would also be okay with that.

He gets up too, saying,

"It was nice to see you, Tony, thanks for the pizza."

Obadiah gets a neutrally polite,

"Mr Stane." Acknowledging his presence. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah. Call me sometime, we'll all go to Uno, it'll be great."

Tony might have been a little more inclined to stick up for Obie a minute ago, but right now he is freshly reminded of what a jerk Obie can be sometimes. He doesn't say anything either way about how Cal kind of blew him off, and Obie just smiles so falsely that even Tony catches it.

Sherlock helpfully leads Cal into the other living room to pick up his DVDs.

"I've half a mind to go with you," he says quietly, when he is sure it won't be overheard.

Cal had completely forgotten about the DVDs. He finds that the tray of the DVD player has already slid out, reminding him to grab the disc and put it in its case. (Jarvis is helpful like that.)

As he does so, his movements are more stiffly controlled than they were a moment ago; the façade has fallen away again, unneeded with just Sherlock around, and the real Cal isn't so good at covering.

"You're more than welcome," he says, forgetting that that is, technically speaking, not true as far as his mother is concerned, "as long as you don't mind me smoking a bowl the size of my fucking head when we get there."

"No objections."

He also has half a mind to go a verbal round or two with Violet Chandler, just to work out his frustration, but he decides that would be an unproductive response and he might be better served by further stealth.

"Then it's a deal," Cal says. "We can say I needed help studying."

In case Sherlock feels the need to let Tony know he's leaving first.

"Perhaps not. Tony would no doubt make other assumptions."

In a better moment, that would no doubt serve to make Cal awkward for the next five minutes. But with worse on his mind, he just snorts and says,

"Okay, then let's go."

"Indeed."

Sherlock heads for the door.

Where Sherlock might like to take out his frustration in conversation, Cal vents his in his driving - jamming the key into the ignition, yanking at the controls, stepping hard on the gas pedal to speed out of the driveway. His hands are tight on the wheel and he has to force himself to ease up on the rest of it as they reach the road.

The farther they get from Obadiah Stane, the better he feels.

Cal will feel better once he's stoned.

And has maybe spent an hour or so in a good, hot shower.

He's beginning to think that he might, in fact, be very well served by a game of wits against the inestimable Peter Beardsley.

(Considering that Peter is perfectly aware of the fact that Cal is currently driving away from the Stark residence, Sherlock may well get his wish.)

"So I'm glad you liked the movie, anyway," Cal says eventually.

"Yes. We ought to watch the sequel sometime."

Whether that's now or later—well, Sherlock doesn't know if he's up to it, so he certainly doesn't know if Cal is.

"Yeah," Cal says. "Maybe next time."

He is far from being in the right mood to try to focus on a movie.

"Next time," Sherlock agrees.

"Shall I skip running the maternal gauntlet and just sneak in?"

- oh, right.

"Shit," Cal mutters, "I forgot. Yeah, that would . . . that would probably be best."

He doesn't want to deal with that right now. He figures Sherlock probably doesn't either, for that matter.

"I look forward to it."

He really does. Arguing with Violet would be much the same kind of stress relief as going out and getting into a drunken brawl; breaking into the house will be more akin to a nice, quiet, soothing game of chess.