openmisc | Exercises in Romantic Tension

Exercises in Romantic Tension

The job was supposed to be simple. A popular, up-and-coming app company in Massachusetts had stumbled onto a bit of technology that might threaten Goddard and their CEO had, so far, been resistant to softer negotiations. It's easy to think you're invincible when you develop an app at seventeen and skyrocket into popularity and money and easy retirement by twenty five, apparently.

Enter Kepler's team. Maxwell, down with the flu, would provide remote support to Kepler and Jacobi. Jacobi had told her that it was fine, this was more of a 'manly type' job anyway, which, of course prompted her to ask, if that was the case, why Jacobi was there.

Score one for Maxwell.

Playing Candy Crush on his phone in the passenger seat, one foot pulled up, Jacobi yawns. "How much longer?" he groans, glancing at the afternoon sun out the window. It's not warm enough to penetrate the cold winter day, and Jacobi reaches over to turn up the heat. "Can we stop for coffee? I haven't had Dunks in forever. Since the last time we were on this coast."

He sucks air through his teeth, failing his level. So much for that.

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He starts scanning through the file himself and he's making irritated noises, grumbling unhappily. Hmph'ing in irritation. Sighing tiredly.

"I think... Henderson might be trying something here."

They'd dealt with other teams, and one of the more consistent thorns in their side, Henderson Technology Conglomerate-

He can smell the stink of them all over this.

Jacobi makes a face at that.

"This is a lot more complicated than we were told it was going to be," he mutters, rubbing tired eyes. He doesn't know how long it's been, how long he's been looking at the computer, but he glances up at the ceiling to give himself a break from the unnatural glow.

"That is why I took this mission personally," he says with grim determination. "SI-5. Best of the best. This? Is what we do, Jacobi."

A knowing grin.

"This is what we do."

He meets his look blandly. "Yes sir," he deadpans and stifles a yawn, pulling his feet up in the chair with him.

"Best of the best. All that." He waves a hand at him and spins in the chair before pulling up to the desk again with his laptop. He is not looking forward to retooling his entire plan for this. He really isn't. If only there was a convenient distraction. Some way he could procrastinate for a few -

"Snacks!" he says aloud, jumping to his feet.

There's a very flat look before he rolls his eyes and nods. He'll watch Jacobi go. And enjoy watching Jacobi go.

He digs out some cash from his wallet, instinctively touches the holster hidden under his jeans, and waltzes out.

When he comes back, it's with a successful pocketful and he tosses a bag towards Kepler. "Look what I found. Haven't seen those in a while," he says gleefully.

There's not much that cheers him more than good snacks.

Kepler will catch the bag and despite his usual dour mood at an interruption in planning, will quite happily realize-

"You found the truffle ones!"

Because he did, and it's delicious.

"Damn right, Boss," he laughs and his delight is real as he sits back down in his chair. He knew he'd have to go back to work eventually, but it's better now that he has pretzels.

"Okay, so this isn't a disaster. We can figure it out."

"I have never seen a disaster? This team couldn't manage," he says as he looks over his own notes, as well as his copy of the schematics. He hasn't stopped looking, after all. "Besides. At least we got the changes?

"Before you were in there."

"Yeah," he yawns, leaning his head back on the chair as he pulls his feet up. Between the car trip and now whatever the hell time it is, he knows he's getting tired. But he wants to pull through. He has to.

Just a few seconds, he tells himself. He just needs to close his eyes for a few seconds and then he can focus again.

"I mean. It could be worse. It's not like -- "

Boy does it feel good to close his eyes.

Just for a few seconds though.

Jacobi's out... which has him huffing a little to himself, smiling fondly, and walking over to get one of the guest blankets from the closet to drape over him. There've been times where he'd pick the other man up and get him someplace more comfortable, but he's actually slumped in a relatively good position and it's not worth the chance of waking him up.

The overeager AC, however, necessitates a blanket. He's well practiced at getting one of those on him without waking him up.

Then he's sitting back into his seat and starting to plan things out himself. Jacobi will need to finalize his approach himself; he's the specialist. But he can at least give him something to work with.

Jacobi only sleeps for a few hours, curled up in the chair with his half-eaten bag of pretzels in his lap and the blanket draped over him. It's warm and comfortable, but the only reason he's able to sleep as well as he does is because he actually feels secure in the room. Maxwell has her eyes, artificial and real, on them, Kepler's there, and he can sleep relatively unbothered.

The only thing that wakes him is the buzzing of his phone on the desk, an annoying sound that jolts him from his dreams. He reaches out for it, decides against replying, and rubs at his face. Unsurprised by the blanket, he pulls it around his shoulders and glances behind him.

"You let me sleep in the chair," he huffs.

"You were comfortable," is his counter to that, and Jacobi shouldn't have any undue soreness; he's usually pretty good at judging that and he'd have moved him if that was the case. Have to keep his team members in top condition, after all. That's definitely why he's so cognizant of Jacobi's body mechanics and position.

"And you were tired. I? Wouldn't dream of interrupting your rest." Beat. "Without a good reason."

He sticks one foot out and pushes against the desk, turning in a slow revolution that ends with him actually facing Kepler. "Okay, okay. I think we're as prepared as we're going to be for this. Which means you need to get some rest. You're the one doing the talking."

He’ll turn to see Kepler already looking back at him, eyes never off him. Then, he’ll nod and push himself up with a full body stretch.

“A fine and fair point, Mr. Jacobi, a very. Fair point.” And he’ll start stripping down to undershirt and boxers as he heads for his own bed.

It's a sight he's seen before and a sight that just - never gets old. But he knows he needs to focus, and not on that.

Jacobi looks down to his phone again, the forgotten text suddenly the most important thing in the world. "I'll keep watch a while," he tells him.

Kepler's more focused on falling into bed and closing his eyes than he is on Jacobi's attention. He's already set his phone for an alarm to get him up with plenty of time to get washed up, dressed, and be sparkling for his part of the job.

Jacobi stands up and walks around, flipping off the lights and returning to his chair. He lets the blue glow of his screen keep him awake for a while before he knows he needs sleep. It isn't the first time that he's slept in the same bed as Kepler, and it won't be the last. It doesn't make things easier.

Fucking hotel. Why couldn't they just do what they were supposed to?

He slides into the other side of the bed, very aware of how close they are, but stays dangerously close to the edge so he can finally try and sleep. And not focus on the other man's breathing. Or anything else.

He trusts the alarm to wake them both.

...Jacobi will wake up to the feel of warm lips along the back of his shoulder and hands sliding gently off of his waist, drawing back.

He lets out a long breath and there's one hand that manages to brush against the one around his waist. Just for a moment.

Then it's only a dream because it has to be. That's how it's always been. A single, quick dream for a half second before he wakes.

He sits up, scrubbing off his face and checking his phone for texts. "Looks like everything's on schedule. Time to get into uniform."

Kepler in a suit and Jacobi in black.

There's a sound that's almost like a growl except no, no, that's a laugh, a low laugh, and he's hopping out of bed to start pulling on his clothes.

"Keep in contact directly if you can. Maxwell needs her rest."

Jacobi doesn't look, except when he does, because it's inevitable in this small hotel room. And he sucks in a breath, ignoring it in order to throw on a sweater.

This is fine.

"Do you really think she's going to actually rest?"

"I know she isn't," he says with a dip of his head and a shrug of his shoulders, because that adds on a good 'what am I going to do? It's Maxwell' that he never actually voices. That's too far.

"But every message she doesn't have to relay? Is time she could get distracted. Or. Pass out."

That's a sentiment they both share. There's no jealousy in the way that he handles Maxwell versus the way he handles Jacobi. Maxwell doesn't need a firm hand to do what she does.

"I will, but it's better to go encrypted when I get closer to the building," he reminds him, digging through his suitcase for his boots.

"And we know how to encrypt our own messages. Don't be lazy," he says with a huff and a laugh as he finishes up his own outfit. He looks suitably distracting, not good enough to be unprofessional but eye-catching.

Exercises in Romantic Tension

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