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 knows that, of course, but it's good to hear that the plan's going the way it should. The hotel does look nice and he glances at it longingly before he picks up his coffee to finish.

"Lucky," he mutters. "Sitting around doing fuck all." Which he knows is not the case. But he's allowed to be a little salty about it.

Kepler glances over at Jacobi and doesn't say anything. He's actually going to be having the SI-4 boys handling most of the paperwork and logistics that Maxwell couldn't do from her sickbed, as well as the ones Jacobi would have had to do himself. He'll mention it when he needs to balance some stick with a bit of carrot.

"Nonsense, Mister Jacobi. They don't get to figure out how to blow up a building full of servers in a way that looks like an accident."

He slips his thumbnail in his mouth, between his teeth, as he stares out the window thoughtfully, empty coffee cup in his other hand. "Good thing I brought all my stuff," he laughs, mostly to himself. Because he knows exactly how to blow up a building full of servers in a way that looks like an accident.

Servers are tricky things. they get a little too hot and they melt down. They start fires. "This is exactly why I wanted thermite for Christmas last year."

That and he wanted to take it out to the range to see what he could melt with it.

The answer?

Everything.

"And you're confident you can set this all up. with a trigger set two weeks in the future. which won't be detected by anyone in the interim?"

If this was simple, he wouldn't need Jacobi.

He turns to look at him blandly. Of course he's sure. He doesn't have to say it.

"I just need the access and Maxwell can walk me through the servers so I don't hit anything vital when I stash it. One will catch fire first and the others in succession right after, hot enough to burn through everything. The fire will take care of it all." He waves a hand at him.

It's simple to Jacobi.

"The words you were looking for. were. 'affirmative, sir'," he says, but it lacks the bite it would have if he hadn't had the plan already worked out. He knows his people are the best. That's why they're his people.

"You'll have a limited time in the server location. The window is in your briefing."

It's not long at all, really. About five minutes time.

"I know that," he says. But, because he knows he's already right up against the wall, flirting with insubordination, he adds: "Five minutes, sir. I'll do it in four."

It's easy, in these car rides, to let himself get a little too friendly, to follow his lead and fall a little too far, too informal.

Then he gets the leash yanked, even softly, and he steps back in line.

The thing about that leash is that it's not nearly as one-sided a tug as it looks. There's a part of him that'd been starting to enjoy the drive and enjoy Jacobi's company. That wanted to put his arm out and settle behind Jacobi's headrest. But he can tell when the sting hits for Jacobi, which is why he adds.

"Hey, look at it this way. SI-4's doing our paperwork. So... you're free to get it down to three if the challenge moves you."

"Oh sure, a challenge." He rubs the back of his neck and turns, placing his laptop back in his bag as they get closer to their destination. "Three minutes," he repeats softly because if Kepler wants him to try for three, then he will try for three, as long as he's not sloppy.

"I'm going to need another cup of coffee before I head in there." But he at least has the blueprints memorized.

"You've got a day to figure out your logistics and assemble your gear," he says with a tilt of his head as he pulls them into the parking lot of the hotel they're staying in. He gives Jacobi an encouraging smile.

"Don't look so dour, Jacobi. They might be staying at the four star business accommodation. But. We? Get 'magic fingers'." He tips his head to his bag. "I even brought quarters."

Jacobi just stares at it and then stares at him. Oh you're kidding me he screams with every bit of nonverbal language he has. But he just sighs and gets out of the car, grabbing his bags from the back, slinging the backpack over one shoulder and the duffel bag over the other before he turns to wait on Kepler.

"One day. One day I'll get to be the guy who stays at the Hilton."

"Noted for future assignments," and he does mean that, and Jacobi would know that he meant that. But Kepler can't help that he's delighted by the low-tier delights they had in store for them.

Except, perhaps, for when they get in and discover-

"...I definitely booked two beds."

He steps around him, like he might be able to properly see another bed suddenly manifest in front of them. Oh wonderful.

But -

He laughs. Because what else can he do? Of course the universe continues to hate him.

"At least it's not Berlin, Sir," he points out, setting his bags on one of the chairs. He takes out his laptop and starts to set up shop automatically.

That cracks a smile on his face as he turns to Jacobi.

"That it is not, Mister Jacobi, that it is not."

And he'll start walking in with his own things, pulling out the luggage stand, putting his bag on the stand and opening up to start setting up his own section. Most of what he has is a collection of suits, some spy gear (effectively) and his own laptop.

"You have Maxwell up?"

"Forty two seconds, sir," he tells him, glancing back over his shoulder, mentally filing away which suits he brought. Mostly because it lets him know the sort of confidence level he should have and because, well, imagination is a hell of a thing.

"She's doing her security checks."

Once she's there, he sits back and gestures to the laptop. "Dr. Sneeze Queen is ready if you want her."

"She still hasn't stopped?" he asks with something between a laugh and an incredulous headshake. There's what someone could read as sympathy in there, but there's also a healthy bit of amusement. Maxwell is usually so deliberate.

They have seen Kepler sick exactly once that wasn't mission based. The mission-based one was a viral agent that his suit got contaminated with that nearly killed him and no laughing matter. The flu, however, had been an ordeal of watching a man nearly pass out while wearing a medical mask and seemingly pretending that he wasn't sick.

He'd still finished all his paperwork that week!

"Yes sir I have," comes a stuffed up voice from the computer and Jacobi shakes his head, moving out of the way of the laptop camera with a very epic eyeroll. She definitely can't tell from there. Definitely can't. He's rather secure in that fact! At least until she adds: "I can see you, Daniel."

He glances around, a little paranoid, until he glances out the window and draws the curtains. Just in case.

She goes over the minutia of the changes that had occurred while they were driving, sending over an updated blueprint of the server room for Jacobi, which he downloads to his phone.

Warren has to wonder when, exactly, Daniel will figure out that Maxwell doesn't have to see him because he's extremely predictable. At least in certain respects. It would be nice to just focus on the two of them making his heart feel warm and heavy but there's a mission to get ready for, so he'll listen to the information, check his own phone for the new blueprint, and let Maxwell know that her contribution is greatly appreciated.

"Have you taken your medication today, Maxwell?"

Because he'll bet she hasn't.

The answer to that question is never because Daniel likes to think of himself as unpredictable. But there's no time to think about that because he's about to witness his favorite thing in the whole wide world.

Maxwell getting in trouble instead of him.

He leans forward.

"I'll go do that now! Signing off, sir!" she chirps and the video feed drops.

He'll get to see Kepler's face settle into Distinctly Unimpressed Face when Maxwell flees but he breathes in deep and turns his attention to Jacobi as his expression softens.

"Well," he says like a whole sentence, "let's get started going through what she sent. First one finished gets to start the coffee pot."

"Traitor," he mutters of Maxwell and takes out his phone to text her exactly that. But Kepler gives him some good incentive, considering that he makes it much stronger than Jacobi. The younger man always ends up drowning it in creamer.

"Already on it, boss," he tells him, kicking his feet up onto the deck and leaning back, pulling his laptop close to parse through what was sent to him.

But after a while, he starts looking worried, chewing on his thumbnail.

Kepler can read through a report with a speed that is somewhat startling, and the worst part is that he can do it without losing his situational awareness. That's why his eyes might flicker up but never away from the paper and in a moment so silent it almost seems untouchable-

"What is it, Mister Jacobi?"

"It's nothing," he says, though Kepler will definitely hear the "Jacobi is worried" tone. "I can handle it. But - this isn't the blueprint I was given. They must have switched things around since the last time I'd looked over it."

"Switched things around how?"

Because he doesn't doubt Jacobi or Maxwell, and a change this major might speak to a leak somewhere, or some sort of worry that they hadn't counted on. Intel they didn't have was always a problem.

"There's supposed to be a window here. Looks like it was broken somehow," he says, trying to piece together the story from the clues in the briefing that he has. Maxwell is so good with raw data, but Jacobi's trying to read between those lines.

"And - so it's closed off. Must have caused some damage to the room itself because they've cleared it out and moved everything over."

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