"California Loooove," Tony sang, the music turned up to a ridiculous level.
"You're just trying to piss Sherlock off," Bruce said, looking at Tony's kindle, not sure if he was more surprised by the selection of doctoral dissertations on physics (because how many of those were going to be on the amazon market place?) or by the number of blissfully bad smutty romance novels. Bruce liked to believe they were Pepper's, but he was pretty sure they won't.
"Nah, practicing," Tony said, clapping his hands as he proceeded to do some kind of bug hop that crescendoed in a slide. He moved into some kind of bizarre leg shaking that reminded Bruce of someone trying to do The Twist. "California, California, knows how to party. California knows how to party," Tony said. He continued his leg shaking but his whole body got into it. It was simultaneous cool, graceful, and painfully white.
"Shake it, shake it baby. Shake it, Shake it," whoever it was sang. Tony shifted from a combination of leg twitches and up and down arm motions into backward walking, his but twitching as his hands spread in front of him doing the twinkle fingers.
"Oh, please tell me you dance for Pepper like this," Bruce said, wishing he was filming it. He wanted to send it to Nick Fury and everyone Tony had ever met.
"Pepper likes my sweet moves," Tony said.
"I know you dance better than this," Bruce said. Tony would never, ever dance this badly (hilariously bad but still graceful. Tony was clearly enjoying himself though. He'd thrown his whole body into it) where people could see.
"I'm getting my bad dancing out now," Tony said. He grabbed his belt loops and started into something that was clearly from a line dance, but involved an obscene amount of butt shaking.
"A move from a southern strip club?"
"No, one from Washington, but it was catered to Texas lawmakers," Tony said sighing as the song ended.
"I feel like I didn't need to know that."
"You probably didn't, but then you asked," Tony said, switching the song to something else.
"Hey, I know this one," Bruce said.
"Please, don't start pulling a Capt.," Tony groaned.
"Shut up," Bruce said, chucking a sofa pillow at Tony's head. He caught it and handed it to the servant/robot who put the pillow back in its place and fluffed it.
"What sets you free and brought you to me, babe? What sets you free? I need you here by me?" Tony started to sing along with this one. "In the midnight hour she cried more, more, more. With a rebel yell, more, more, more."
"At least your dancing is getting better," Bruce said. "Is The Prince's Son really as bad as I think it is?"
"How bad do you think it is?"
"The cover shows a man in full prince regalia holding a baby and looking confused," Bruce said.
"Then it's pretty bad," Tony said, flopping down on the sofa and taking the kindle from Bruce's hands. "Why are you reading this?"
"Not much to do before we leave," Bruce pointed out.
"That is not true!" Tony said, hoping up. "Garcon!" He called to the robot/servant. "Get Master Bruce's best suit," he instructed.
"Best suit? What best suit," Bruce asked. He only wore things he didn't care about ripping through.
"The one I bought you."
"Tony!" Bruce snapped, feeling a sick twist in his stomach when the robot returned with possibly the nicest suit Bruce would ever wear in his life. It wasn't made for wearing to a concert, it was an expensive suit of expensive materials made for going to a club. "This is way out of line."
"How?"
"I'm about a gift tie away from being a kept man," Bruce grumbled.
"So? You've been living in the dirt for the past few years. It's fine to live in luxury for a while. Besides, I'd be bored without you. Consider all this a payment for not being stuck in the house by myself all day."
"I bet your dad rented kids to play with you when you were small," Bruce grumbled, standing up. "Thank you, Garcon," he said to the robot, who shook its arm with happiness. He glanced over at Tony who had a flicker of something in his eyes before he stood up and started pushing Bruce into his room. "Go change. We'll work on your hair later."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"It looks like you haven't brushed it since the last time you turned green."
"I don't like this," Sherlock said.
"You don't have to," John said.
"I'm not going."
"You stole the man's equipment before he even got here and he's letting you borrow it," John said, knocking on the door to 221c. "You're going."
"Ah, I was just wondering where you gents were," Tony shouted from the back room as the door opened. "Out in a sec, make yourselves at home!"
John rocked back on his heels while Sherlock went right in, examining the renovations to 221c. It didn't even look like it was part of the building anymore. Everything was sleek and modern and expensive looking. It was like they'd stepped into some alternate dimension. John glanced back out in the hall to be sure that it at least still looked the same.
"Far cry different from the last time we were in here," John said, glancing at Sherlock who was examining the room, but who'd gone mute.
"Ah, good, let's get out of here," Tony said, coming out of one of the rooms. He was dressed up much nicer than both John or Sherlock, even with Sherlock's normal posh dress. Bruce followed him out, his hair styled and also dressed up and looking as uncomfortable as the times John realized that Sherlock had just been experimenting on him. "Don't be jealous boys. You save my life I'll dress you up this nice to-ow!" he cut himself off, rubbing his side where Bruce and viciously jabbed his elbow into him.
"Let's go," Bruce muttered darkly, walking past Sherlock and John and outside.
"We had a little domestic before you boys got here. Turns out Bruce has a very sensitive scalp and doesn't like having his hair brushed," Tony said. John had no idea if Tony was serious or joking or to what degree of either. He just walked out of the flat with Sherlock and out to the car.
Bruce was standing by the shiny red convertible that John had found himself admiring every time he glanced out the window or walked outside that day. "Well?" Bruce asked.
"Well what?" Tony asked.
"Turn off the security," Bruce said irritably.
"Keep your pants on," Tony said, pulling out his keys and clicking a button. He walked around the driver's seat, getting in; leaving Bruce to pull up the seat so Sherlock and John could get in the back.
"Where are we going?" John asked, sitting behind Tony because it seemed like a better idea than letting Sherlock sit there.
"Just a little place I know," Tony said with a smile, starting the car and driving off down the road at a dangerous speed.
The little place Tony knew happened to be one of the most exclusive clubs in London. John only even knew about it because there had been a murder there and he'd follow Sherlock in to examine the scene. He hadn't even been allowed to write that one up because of a mass of documents they'd had to sign before they could even see the body.
Tony had a regular table.
"Scotch for everyone to start," Tony ordered, throwing himself down in his chair which seemed more like a throne than anything else.
"Tony, do you own this place?" Bruce asked, finally talking after being mute the entire drive.
"How did you know?" Tony asked from his throne.
"Just a hunch," Bruce said. "Thank you," he said when the man returned almost instantly with the drinks. He downed it almost instantly. He didn't drink much because he didn't have as much control when he was drunk. He could deal with one scotch and be fine.
"I thought you were in tech," John said.
"Yeah, but there was never a good place to party in London," Sherlock said with a shrug. It certainly looked like the kind of place he would like. "In any case, to night you will all get at least three phone numbers before you leave here."
"How?" John asked. He and Sherlock did not even look properly dressed for this.
"You're sitting at the king's table," Tony said, leaning back in his chair. "Just run the girls by me before you get interested. They might not be any good."
"Like you were ever good at those judgments," Bruce said, watching Tony finish his drink and fill his glass again when the server returned with the bottle. This was the second thing Pepper had talked to him about: Tony's drinking. Tony could have anything he wanted in the world, being wealthy, influential and very smart. Pepper couldn't stop him from drinking, but she tried to contain it when possible. He had an exact formula of when to cut him off.
"True, but it's either me or run them by Sherlock," Tony said in a far too innocent tone. The other three men scowled. "Oh look, they're playing my song." The song Tony had been dancing to earlier suddenly coming on.
"Christ," Bruce muttered, rubbing his forehead, trying to get the mental images from the previous dance out of his head.
"Come on, up you go, time to dance," Tony said, grabbing Bruce's arm and dragging him out on the dance floor. Almost instantly a pretty brunette slipped herself into Tony's arms and another wound herself around Bruce.
Bruce had one moment to glance at Tony and realize that he could dance to that song before he found himself fairly well engrossed in his partner. "I read your paper," the girl whispered in his ear when she pressed her body against him.
"Which one?" Bruce asked. He wasn't exactly an unknown anymore, not after the bit with New York.
"All of them," the girl said. "I'm studying Neurochemistry," she added, not really telling where or how far along, though Bruce could guess, given the club itself.
"I'm Bruce," he said.
"Isabel," the young woman said, twisting her finger in her of her curls. "The king hasn't come back to his castle for a while."
Bruce shrugged, not sure where this line of inquiry was going, though the girl was glancing over at Sherlock and John. "You know how he is," he said.
"Vaguely, yes," she said. "Is that John Watson?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm afraid," Bruce said, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. "Come on, why don't you meet him?" He said, leading her over. "Dr. Watson, it appears you have a fan."
"Oh," John said, looking a bit flustered like any man who was used to only being known online would be. "Hello, lovely to meet you."
"Isabel," the young woman said, flashing a self-assured smile and slipping to sit down next to John.
"And uh, this is Sherlock," John introduced.
"Please," Isabel said, offering to shake Sherlock's hand, which he ignored. She didn't seem upset to be brushed off, simply focusing back on John. "I enjoy your work very much, Dr. Watson."
"Just John is fine."
Bruce turned to leave after that. He glanced over to see Tony already dancing with another girl. It was better that way, no commitments. "Not every man is willing to give up a prospect," Sherlock said from Bruce's side. Clearly he'd gotten up to escape the flirting between John and Isabel.
"No use pursuing the impossible," Bruce said with a shrug, glancing around the room.
"John's not going to get three phone numbers," Sherlock said.
"I don't think he'll accept them when they're offered," Bruce said.
"A doctoral candidate, nearing the term of having to defend her thesis but done with all it already," Sherlock said, glancing around the room. "No, he won't accept any other numbers."
"How about a game," Bruce suggested.
"See who can get the most phone numbers?" Sherlock asked, pretty sure that was the game.
"By being completely ourselves," Bruce said.
"You mean me being myself. If you're yourself then this place won't be left standing."
"Eh, you are pretty smart," Bruce said, smacking Sherlock harder on the back than was absolutely necessary.
A/N:
I love how this story has the same number of favs as my Mollan story, but a 10th of the comments. I must fix both these things.
I am very aware that I write male friendships about two degrees off from being slash romances. I feel like my body's trying to make Bruce be in love with Tony, or that Bruce just does not get how his inner musings sound to the world… how would you react to the only person in the world who wasn't afraid of you?
Songs referenced/and lyrics are from "California Love" by 2pac, and "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol. For some reason I was just highly amused by the image of Tony half-nerd dancings to "California Love".