openmisc | 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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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.

He groans, a deep and annoyed sound, and pulls his boots triumphantly from his bag, shoving them on his feet. He slides a knife inside as well as some extra wires, just in case, before tying the laces.

"It's not lazy," he complains, looking up. The rest of his protest dies on his lips for a moment, but he revives them by looking at a point distinctly beyond him. "It's efficient. How long do you think you can keep her out before she's buzzing in your ear?"

He stands up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. They make quite a pair. Kepler in his suit and Jacobi, looking like he's about to go work a job in construction downtown.

"The objective?" he says with a soft huff of amusement, "is until she falls asleep at least once. We'll need her after hours more anyway. And that way she'll be rested even if she is coughing her lungs out."

Well, that isn't unreasonable. If she took her medicine like she was told, then it shouldn't be too long anyway.

He hands Kepler his earpiece, getting close enough to find the smallest speck of dirt on the shoulder, which he brushes off. Looks are important, after all.

"I love the sound of coughing in my ear," he mutters. "You're out first, Colonel."

He's going to stay behind so they're not leaving together.

He waggles his eyebrows to Jacobi, a playful little start to the mission work, and then he's straightening his suit jacket before his shoulders shift just so and he's swanning out the door.

Jacobi will hear his mic go live within a few minutes. It's the signal that he's ready for Jacobi to get rolling himself.

Jacobi fucks around on his phone, letting his charge, while he waits. And then when it goes up, he shoulders his bag and heads out towards the building. His heart's pounding, the world shrinks, and he shakes off the mission-jitters as he walks.

He's nonchalant enough, though aware of every single movement around him. Maxwell chimes in, sounding remarkably well.

"How much Dayquil did you take?" Jacobi mutters, getting a huff in return. "Alright, I'm at the building. Give the word and I'll go in."

And then his three minute window starts.

Exercises in Romantic Tension

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