[Nightlight]

[seeagreatergood]

So things got awkward and Auggie moved his stuff back out of the Stark household into Milliways.

And he's been totally fine with it. Honestly. It's been kind of a relief not to have to keep such a close eye on himself the last three or four days. Milliways is kind of anxiety-inducing, but less anxiety inducing than living in a house with those two young men.

Of course, he misses the easy camaraderie. But it's not like this is the first time he valued safety over friendship.

Comments

[if_inconvenient]

Being at Milliways hardly means he will never run into them, however.

In fact, it makes it that much likelier for him to run into them under... certain circumstances.



Sherlock comes down the stairs humming a cheerful tune under his breath and moving a little stiffly. There is a lingering hint of a certain cologne in the air around him, and even fainter than that, the smell of blood.

[seeagreatergood]

Auggie is stationed at a table near the stairs, sipping a coffee and reading. It's the humming he notices; he lifts his head with a grin as it gets closer.

"Sherlock?"

[if_inconvenient]

"Auggie." He smiles, detouring to stop at Auggie's table. "And what are we reading today?"

[seeagreatergood]

"Asimov. Tales of the Black Widowers--"

He breaks off, frowning slightly.

"Are you okay?"

[if_inconvenient]

"Very much so," he says happily.

[seeagreatergood]

"Did you get hurt somehow?"

Somehow like by the mysterious wearer of that cologne? The one that's shown up on Tony's clothes more than once?

[if_inconvenient]

"Not in the way you mean."

[seeagreatergood]

--Ah.

"You know, if you're bleeding, you might be playing a little rough."

[if_inconvenient]

"A little, yes," he agrees. "But it's so much fun, you see."

[seeagreatergood]

Boy, that went well.

Auggie briefly considers trying to find his way back to his room from here, but given the occasionally Escheresque qualities of the upstairs, he decides he's better off going downstairs and starting from there.

Counting steps on the stairs lets him not think about the conversation he just had, too. At least for the moment.

[toblameforit]

Tony is just entering the stairwell as Auggie reaches the ground floor.

"—Hey. You okay, man?"

[seeagreatergood]

"--Tony."

Oh, perfect.

"I'm fine. You should go talk to Sherlock. He's in his room." He nods towards the stairs.

[toblameforit]

"What should I go talk to him about? Or is this one of those Sherry things?"

[seeagreatergood]

He looks up at the ceiling, a sort of if only I could be struck by lightning right now that would be great gesture.

"I can't talk to you right now, Tony. You can ask Sherlock about it."

[toblameforit]

Tony starts to say something—frowns—stops.

"Okay. His room, you said? Not ours?"

[seeagreatergood]

"I guess, yeah. The small one."

[toblameforit]

He fidgets a little.



"Can I hug you?"

[toblameforit]

A couple days afterward, Tony is downstairs at Milliways taking up approximately one third of a large and comfortable couch by the fire.

[if_inconvenient]

And Sherlock, sprawled out with his eyes closed and his head in Tony's lap, is occupying the rest.

[seeagreatergood]

It turns out the gym in Milliways is pretty well set up, and working out has always been more effective at clearing out Auggie's head than alcohol. And he's needed the head-clearing.

He's sweaty and disheveled but in a good mood as he comes into the bar proper, laser cane in hand. His path to the bar will take him right past the couches and armchairs by the fire.

[toblameforit]

He looks up from running his fingers through Sherry's hair as Auggie passes.

"Auggie! Hey!"

[seeagreatergood]

He halts, turning.

"Hey, Tony."

[toblameforit]

"What's up? You wanna come sit with us?"

[seeagreatergood]

"Hey, Sherlock," Auggie adds.

"Yeah, uh -- let me get something to drink from Bar, okay?"

[toblameforit]

"Sure thing."