toblameforit | (no subject)

"No."

Cal pauses.

". . . not in those exact words."

(Right behind them is Connolly, who showed up as they pulled out of the school parking lot.)

"Well, you do. If I didn't like you so much I would've gotten out and walked," he teases.

Cal laughs as he kills the engine.

"I'm flattered."

"You should be." Grinning, he opens his door. "You coming in for a bit, or going straight home?"

"Coming in," Cal says. "If that's okay."

He has no intentions of leaving right away unless Tony wants him to. He knows Peter has something set up - he called earlier, while Cal was on lunch - but he still feels better if he's right here himself.

(Sherlock really is a bad influence, isn't he?)

"Yeah, sure it is. C'mon."

"Cool."

Cal gets out of the car and follows Tony inside.

"Hey, Jarvis. Is Obie here?"

"Yes, just down the hall."

Cal takes note of this without comment.

"Thanks," he says cheerfully, and heads straight for the appropriate living room.

There is nothing for Cal to do but follow.

This isn't exactly a surprise, though.

Obadiah is sitting in an armchair doing paperwork. He looks up and greets Tony with a smile.

"Welcome home."

"Good to see you," he says, crossing the room to give Obie a hug. "Sorry I left you alone all day. You know how it is. Gotta keep my grades up to impress those assholes in Boston."

Cal slings himself casually onto a couch.

He seems to be on his best behaviour as he hugs back—hardly creepy at all.

"Don't worry about it. I took the opportunity to get some work done."

"Yeah, that sounds like you all right. Always working."

Tony occupies the next chair over.

"How's it going? Did they get the 86s in the air yet?"

Cal appears not to be paying much attention, pulling out his cellphone to occupy himself unobtrusively while they talk.

When he starts playing a game on it, though, he doesn't bother to turn the sound off. The beeping and electronic music are quiet, but noticeable.

He's not going to make it that easy for anyone to pretend he's not here.

"They're doing just fine without you," he says reassuringly.

"Good. About time somebody over there grew a brain." Tony leans over toward the couch to look at Cal's phone. "Whatcha playing?"

Cal glances up, angling the phone so Tony can see it better.

"Tetris."

"I love that game. You any good at it?"

"Yeah." Cal tips the screen back toward himself in time to catch a square and put it in its proper place.

"I've been playing since I was a kid. I think I'm pretty much as good as anyone can get by now. You know, until it gets like physically impossible to keep up."

Brightly: "Whaddya mean it gets physically impossible?"

Cal snorts.

"You are so full of it your eyes are brown."

And Tony's eyes are, in fact, brown. So there you are.