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cit_hiddlestonIt's been the sort of long day that for most people leads to a loosened tie and collar, a barstool, and a glass of something that would make the long day start to disappear into memory. Lemonade really doesn't have the same impact, but it's cold, it's refreshing, and Robert's not complaining.
"Robert?"
He almost knocks over his drink. He knows that voice. Even still, it's a few long moments before he turns around and confirms it for himself.
"Tom."
"I suppose I can recognise you from anywhere, at any angle." Tom smiles.
"And I'd know that voice at any volume," Robert says, getting up off his chair and smiling back. "Tom. You look..." he trails off and grins wider, "you look like you."
Tom's wearing one of his nicer suits, even if the trousers are sinfully tight. He smiles for Robert. "And you look exactly like you," he says, softly. "Which is to say, perfect."
"Well, looking perfect for me is a given... and with you, it's always implied," Robert says, eyes sparkling. "I didn't know you were in LA."
"We're just here briefly," says Tom. "It'll be back to London the day after tomorrow."
Robert nods, half-listening to Tom, half-calculating the amount of time Tom has left in LA. "Of course... you've been there most of the time when you're not working," he says.
Tom nods. "It's... home."
"I get that," Robert says, smiling again. "Can I get you a drink?" he offers, gesturing to one of the bar stools. "It's... it's just really good to see you," he admits.
"Oh, I just came here for a glass of wine," says Tom.
"I don't mind if you have a glass of wine, Tom," Robert assures him, gesturing to the bartender, who comes over. "Another lemonade for myself, and for Tom..." he trails off, waiting for Tom to place his order.
"House white, please," says Tom.
A brief frown of confusion crosses Robert's face before smoothing out again. It isn't as though he's spent time clocking Tom's drink orders, but he's not sure he's ever heard him ask for white wine. "New suit?" he asks. "Or just one I never saw?"
"New," says Tom, smoothing a hand over the jacket. "I have three suits very specifically for coming to the club. Just the way they're tailored."
"To attract just the right kind of attention?" Robert asks, offering Tom his wine, instead of reaching out and smoothing his hand over Tom's jacket in the same place.
"To attract imaginations, without giving anything away," says Tom.
"You can't blame me for wanting to keep you to myself, Tom," says a third voice from behind Tom.
"Of course not," Tom replies, smoothly, turning and handing the wine glass to Ken Branagh, who steps closer and puts his free hand on the back of Tom's neck. Ken looks at Robert and smiles with utmost knightly politeness.
"I wondered what was keeping you," Ken says, smoothly.
"I just ran into an old friend, sir," Tom replies. He looks from Ken to Robert. "You remember Robert Downey, Jr, don't you?"
"I could never forget," says Ken.
There's a moment, no more than a second, where Robert knows that his expression shows as plain as day just how much of a gut punch this is. A second of visible agony at what he's lost. The second passes, and it's like it never happened. He smiles at Ken, warm and friendly, extending his hand in Ken's direction. "It's been a long time," he says, focusing on Ken instead of Tom, casual and relaxed. "Looks like you're keeping well."
"And you've been doing very well for yourself," says Ken. Still terribly polite, he moves his hand from the back of Tom's neck to take Robert's; when the touch returns, Tom drops his eyes. "King of an entire franchise."
"For the moment," Robert says, shrugging easily, no shift in expression this time when Ken's hand moves back to Tom's neck. "New movie coming out... there's always a new king waiting in the background to depose the old one. Not that I have to tell that to two guys who do as much Shakespeare as either of you," he adds.
"Naturally not," says Ken. His thumb makes little circles on the side of Tom's neck. "Would you like to find a table, have a little something to eat, relax a while?"
"I wouldn't want to intrude," Robert says, the relaxed set of his shoulders hiding the tension in his stomach. "I wasn't a part of your plans in coming here tonight, I'm quite sure."
"That doesn't mean plans can't change," says Ken. "We're in no rush--we don't have anywhere to be until we have to leave."
Robert wants to refuse, to walk away, but his pride won't let him. "Sure... I've got a bit of time, enough for an appetizer before I need to get going," he says as he checks his watch.
"That's just fine," says Ken. "It hasn't been long enough since our last meal to eat anything substantial." He gestures with the hand holding his wine glass. "Let's take that table there." He's indicating a two-top near some ferns.
"Sure, I'll just... yeah," Robert says, leaning around to grab his glass of lemonade. "After you."
Ken leads the way, and when he moves his hand, Tom hesitates and ends up falling behind him and Robert on the way to the table. When Ken sits, he turns his head to look at Tom and quirks an eyebrow at him. Tom steps forward and sinks to his knees beside Ken's chair.
And if Robert didn't already want to kill himself for how his evening was going, he certainly did now. "So, what brought you two to LA?" he asks, taking a long sip of his lemonade and setting the glass down.
"A friend's film premiere coincided with a birthday party her husband was planning for her," says Ken. "So we decided to stay in town for a few days, too, have a little break just the two of us." He moves his fingers through Tom's hair, then lets his hand rest on the back of Tom's neck again.
"And where better to stay than here?" Robert says. Especially since Robert's sponsorship of Tom means that Ken no longer had a reason to keep his own membership a secret from Tom. Just one more way that Robert brought this encounter on himself.
"Exactly. There's privacy for us, and so many things for Tom to see and experience." Ken pulls on Tom's hair, and Tom tilts his head back.
As much as he wants to, Robert doesn't let himself shift in his seat.
Or punch Ken in the face.
"It helps. Having a place where you can be yourself," he says, ordering the first thing he sees on the appetizer menu when the server comes to the table.
Ken orders an appetiser for him and Tom to share--and a slice of chocolate cake, for Tom. "You deserve a treat," he says.
"Thank you, sir," Tom murmurs.
"They do amazing things with chocolate here," Robert says, leaning back in his chair, forcing himself to look relaxed and at ease, as little as he feels it. "I wouldn't be surprised if Tom's systematically gone through the dessert menu."
"Oh, he has," says Ken. "He's sampled everything, and enjoyed it. Quite a lot."
Robert flashes a smile he doesn't feel. "Like I said... I'm not surprised."
"He keeps protesting, of course, that I'm indulging him too much. But what good is a holiday if you don't indulge in things you enjoy, hm?" Ken brushes his fingers over Tom's cheek and neck.
"Not much good at all," Robert agrees, so grateful when the server shows up with their food that he's tempted to kiss him on the mouth.
For the next few minutes, Ken feeds Tom directly from his fingers. "Have you been keeping busy outside of Iron Man, Robert?"
"I'm always busy," Robert says, trying to balance between eating quickly, and not looking like he's in a rush to get out of there, even though he absolutely is. "I've always felt it keeps me out of trouble. Most kinds of trouble, anyway."
"Which is far healthier," says Ken, in the blandest way possible.
"Most things in life are far healthier than cocaine, you're right," Robert says, just as blandly. "Plus, it's easier for me to keep track of time and avoid missing appointments, which means I see Mark's 'I'm not upset, I'm just disappointed' look a lot less frequently." He takes one last sip of his drink and sets his glass down. "I hope you two enjoy the rest of your holiday before your return home." He takes out his wallet and setting more than enough cash on the table to cover their food and drinks. "I insist," he says, before Ken could argue.
"That's very generous of you, Robert. Thank you," says Ken.
"Thank you," Tom echoes, softly.
Robert flashes a grin and stands up. "My pleasure. It's been too long, Ken. Tom... take care," he says, looking at him one more time before turning to leave.
"Robert?"
He almost knocks over his drink. He knows that voice. Even still, it's a few long moments before he turns around and confirms it for himself.
"Tom."
"I suppose I can recognise you from anywhere, at any angle." Tom smiles.
"And I'd know that voice at any volume," Robert says, getting up off his chair and smiling back. "Tom. You look..." he trails off and grins wider, "you look like you."
Tom's wearing one of his nicer suits, even if the trousers are sinfully tight. He smiles for Robert. "And you look exactly like you," he says, softly. "Which is to say, perfect."
"Well, looking perfect for me is a given... and with you, it's always implied," Robert says, eyes sparkling. "I didn't know you were in LA."
"We're just here briefly," says Tom. "It'll be back to London the day after tomorrow."
Robert nods, half-listening to Tom, half-calculating the amount of time Tom has left in LA. "Of course... you've been there most of the time when you're not working," he says.
Tom nods. "It's... home."
"I get that," Robert says, smiling again. "Can I get you a drink?" he offers, gesturing to one of the bar stools. "It's... it's just really good to see you," he admits.
"Oh, I just came here for a glass of wine," says Tom.
"I don't mind if you have a glass of wine, Tom," Robert assures him, gesturing to the bartender, who comes over. "Another lemonade for myself, and for Tom..." he trails off, waiting for Tom to place his order.
"House white, please," says Tom.
A brief frown of confusion crosses Robert's face before smoothing out again. It isn't as though he's spent time clocking Tom's drink orders, but he's not sure he's ever heard him ask for white wine. "New suit?" he asks. "Or just one I never saw?"
"New," says Tom, smoothing a hand over the jacket. "I have three suits very specifically for coming to the club. Just the way they're tailored."
"To attract just the right kind of attention?" Robert asks, offering Tom his wine, instead of reaching out and smoothing his hand over Tom's jacket in the same place.
"To attract imaginations, without giving anything away," says Tom.
"You can't blame me for wanting to keep you to myself, Tom," says a third voice from behind Tom.
"Of course not," Tom replies, smoothly, turning and handing the wine glass to Ken Branagh, who steps closer and puts his free hand on the back of Tom's neck. Ken looks at Robert and smiles with utmost knightly politeness.
"I wondered what was keeping you," Ken says, smoothly.
"I just ran into an old friend, sir," Tom replies. He looks from Ken to Robert. "You remember Robert Downey, Jr, don't you?"
"I could never forget," says Ken.
There's a moment, no more than a second, where Robert knows that his expression shows as plain as day just how much of a gut punch this is. A second of visible agony at what he's lost. The second passes, and it's like it never happened. He smiles at Ken, warm and friendly, extending his hand in Ken's direction. "It's been a long time," he says, focusing on Ken instead of Tom, casual and relaxed. "Looks like you're keeping well."
"And you've been doing very well for yourself," says Ken. Still terribly polite, he moves his hand from the back of Tom's neck to take Robert's; when the touch returns, Tom drops his eyes. "King of an entire franchise."
"For the moment," Robert says, shrugging easily, no shift in expression this time when Ken's hand moves back to Tom's neck. "New movie coming out... there's always a new king waiting in the background to depose the old one. Not that I have to tell that to two guys who do as much Shakespeare as either of you," he adds.
"Naturally not," says Ken. His thumb makes little circles on the side of Tom's neck. "Would you like to find a table, have a little something to eat, relax a while?"
"I wouldn't want to intrude," Robert says, the relaxed set of his shoulders hiding the tension in his stomach. "I wasn't a part of your plans in coming here tonight, I'm quite sure."
"That doesn't mean plans can't change," says Ken. "We're in no rush--we don't have anywhere to be until we have to leave."
Robert wants to refuse, to walk away, but his pride won't let him. "Sure... I've got a bit of time, enough for an appetizer before I need to get going," he says as he checks his watch.
"That's just fine," says Ken. "It hasn't been long enough since our last meal to eat anything substantial." He gestures with the hand holding his wine glass. "Let's take that table there." He's indicating a two-top near some ferns.
"Sure, I'll just... yeah," Robert says, leaning around to grab his glass of lemonade. "After you."
Ken leads the way, and when he moves his hand, Tom hesitates and ends up falling behind him and Robert on the way to the table. When Ken sits, he turns his head to look at Tom and quirks an eyebrow at him. Tom steps forward and sinks to his knees beside Ken's chair.
And if Robert didn't already want to kill himself for how his evening was going, he certainly did now. "So, what brought you two to LA?" he asks, taking a long sip of his lemonade and setting the glass down.
"A friend's film premiere coincided with a birthday party her husband was planning for her," says Ken. "So we decided to stay in town for a few days, too, have a little break just the two of us." He moves his fingers through Tom's hair, then lets his hand rest on the back of Tom's neck again.
"And where better to stay than here?" Robert says. Especially since Robert's sponsorship of Tom means that Ken no longer had a reason to keep his own membership a secret from Tom. Just one more way that Robert brought this encounter on himself.
"Exactly. There's privacy for us, and so many things for Tom to see and experience." Ken pulls on Tom's hair, and Tom tilts his head back.
As much as he wants to, Robert doesn't let himself shift in his seat.
Or punch Ken in the face.
"It helps. Having a place where you can be yourself," he says, ordering the first thing he sees on the appetizer menu when the server comes to the table.
Ken orders an appetiser for him and Tom to share--and a slice of chocolate cake, for Tom. "You deserve a treat," he says.
"Thank you, sir," Tom murmurs.
"They do amazing things with chocolate here," Robert says, leaning back in his chair, forcing himself to look relaxed and at ease, as little as he feels it. "I wouldn't be surprised if Tom's systematically gone through the dessert menu."
"Oh, he has," says Ken. "He's sampled everything, and enjoyed it. Quite a lot."
Robert flashes a smile he doesn't feel. "Like I said... I'm not surprised."
"He keeps protesting, of course, that I'm indulging him too much. But what good is a holiday if you don't indulge in things you enjoy, hm?" Ken brushes his fingers over Tom's cheek and neck.
"Not much good at all," Robert agrees, so grateful when the server shows up with their food that he's tempted to kiss him on the mouth.
For the next few minutes, Ken feeds Tom directly from his fingers. "Have you been keeping busy outside of Iron Man, Robert?"
"I'm always busy," Robert says, trying to balance between eating quickly, and not looking like he's in a rush to get out of there, even though he absolutely is. "I've always felt it keeps me out of trouble. Most kinds of trouble, anyway."
"Which is far healthier," says Ken, in the blandest way possible.
"Most things in life are far healthier than cocaine, you're right," Robert says, just as blandly. "Plus, it's easier for me to keep track of time and avoid missing appointments, which means I see Mark's 'I'm not upset, I'm just disappointed' look a lot less frequently." He takes one last sip of his drink and sets his glass down. "I hope you two enjoy the rest of your holiday before your return home." He takes out his wallet and setting more than enough cash on the table to cover their food and drinks. "I insist," he says, before Ken could argue.
"That's very generous of you, Robert. Thank you," says Ken.
"Thank you," Tom echoes, softly.
Robert flashes a grin and stands up. "My pleasure. It's been too long, Ken. Tom... take care," he says, looking at him one more time before turning to leave.
