if_inconvenient | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Sherlock does not want to be at school today. For once in his life he is something less than indifferent to the occasional stare and snicker, the looks of familiar contempt from those who have been around long enough to get used to him. His mood has been fluctuating wildly between rage and despair since yesterday morning. He knows his self-control is good enough to keep him from reacting to any taunts with violence, but nothing will stop him from wanting to. Which is unsettling in itself.

He has a duty, though, one that cannot be ignored. And if he is going to show up at school again, he may as well do the job properly. He is on time for every class before lunch, polite if not friendly when circumstances call for conversation, crisply dressed—in trousers, thank you; he does not think he could bear the reactions to another skirt. The only signs that anything is wrong are the dark circles under his eyes and the tension that stands in sharp contrast to his usual indolence.

At noon on the dot he is in the cafeteria waiting for Bella Swan.

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"You? Borrowing a cellphone? From a girl? Are you gonna borrow her—"

"For the love of God," he interrupts, laughing, "I forbid you to finish that sentence."

Talking to Tony seems to drain all the stress right out of him. He is relaxed, happy, fond.

Bella, having taken the opportunity to clear away the dishes from their snack, smiles wryly to herself. She fully expects a lecture from Jessica tomorrow about how it looks for Bella to shack up with Sherlock in her truck during lunch. (Even if no one saw them, Jessica will know somehow. It's what she does.) People have so much difficulty with the idea that a girl and a boy can just be friends.

Dishes disposed of, she goes back to sit at the table.

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge. Seriously though, are you into her?"

"She is my friend," Sherlock says with great dignity—and then adds brightly: "I have two now; aren't you proud?"

"...I love you," he says, because nothing else is going to cut it.

He closes his eyes and smiles.

"I love you, too."

. . . for a second or two, Bella feels as though she should really be in another room. There is something intensely personal in the way Sherlock says those words.

What Tony hears in it is a little different. His teasing grin fades.

"So what are you calling about, really?"

Sherlock straightens a little on the couch.

"I mentioned yesterday that your nocturnal visitor was making the rounds. Well, it threatened her father to me. When I gave her the Sunnydale short version of events, she asked if you wouldn't mind talking to her about your encounter."

"'Cause she doesn't know about vampires and shit," Tony fills in, "and you don't wanna look like a whackjob. Well, she asked to talk to me instead of calling up the nuthouse, so I think you're doing pretty good so far. Sure, put her on."

"I don't want to—" he starts.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you don't want to. Sherry, it's fine. We're all a little fucked up about this. I'm okay to talk to this chick if you're okay to ask me."

He closes his eyes again, briefly, and exhales a soft, relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Tony," he says, and holds out the phone to Bella.

She takes it.

"Hello, Tony. I'm Bella Swan."

He sounds fondly amused when he says: "Yeah, so I heard."

She laughs a little.

"You've also heard what I'm looking for," she says.

"...yeah," he says, quieter and more serious.

"Okay, so what d'you wanna know? Sherry already told you the basics, right? Creepy ghost thing, tries to make like it's dead people you know, except it sucks at impersonations."

(But it didn't, for a minute there. For a minute there it had him completely. His voice reflects the fear of that.)

"I just want to hear your take on it," she says gently. "Someone else telling another person's story won't get all the nuances of the experience, no matter how factually accurate they are. I might not get anything new, but you might make me think of something I haven't already, or just provide some depth."

She hesitates briefly, then adds,

"And - really, this is the sort of thing I would like to hear from as many people as possible. More witnesses help build plausibility."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters—not annoyed, exactly, but tired. "You want plausibility, check out his bite-marks."

But he sighs and continues in more normal tones, "No, sorry, I totally get it. Weirded me out too. Okay, fine. This thing, it showed up in my room, looking like Obie. Acting like him too. Spun this whole story about—" he cuts himself off, his voice wavering for a moment "—fuck, never mind, anyway, he dropped it pretty quick when I got the idea he maybe wasn't who he was pretending to be. And then he turned into my dad and ragged on me for not living up to the family name and turned into my mom and called me an ungrateful little shit."

(At the mention of Sherlock's bite-marks, Bella glances over (http://favorite-three.livejournal.com/1195.html?thread=24491#t24491) at him, but keeps her focus on Tony. She'll think about that later.)

Tony's account is - persuasive. She's watched news clips of him speaking. He can deliver a prewritten speech, he can banter with the journalists, but when someone asked a question he didn't like it was written all over his face and came through with equal transparency in his tone of voice. Sherlock may be an actor; Tony is not. Even over the phone, without his expressions visible, his story conveys exactly the kinds of emotions one might expect it to.

The details he offers are likewise convincing, made all the more so for the part of the story he makes no secret of omitting. It's slightly uncomfortable to hear, a level of intimacy she wouldn't usually expect from a perfect stranger. He must have a lot of faith in Sherlock to share them with her so willingly.

It could be an elaborately planned virtuoso performance . . . but she really, really doubts that.

She pauses for a moment, waiting to see if he's going to continue with anything before she speaks herself.

Apparently he's all talked out.

"Thank you," she says seriously when it becomes clear that he's done. "That is very helpful."

She glances at Sherlock again as a sudden and obvious realization clicks into place.

"You both seem very matter-of-fact about the idea that this thing exists," she observes.

"No shit we are," Tony says, reasonable rather than impatient. "You would not believe some of the shit we've seen, I mean that literally, Sherry's not telling you because if you don't see it for yourself you'll just think we've both gone off the deep end. Which would be bad 'cause you're Sherry's friend and that's kind of a big deal. And you know he's totally got a crush on you, right?"

"Um."

Bella flushes bright red, immediately forgetting anything else she might have had to say.