Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Really, it started out with a clearing of throat. 

The problem was, it kept happening.

“So you see,” Kepler cleared his throat. “The best way to suppress the revolution would be—“

And then it happened. It was a light cough, barely a puff of air. However what Daniel Jacobi lacked in eyesight, he more than made up for in an almost bat-like hearing. 

“Sir?”

Kepler turned from the board in the meeting room, lips turned down disapprovingly. He was very against the idea of being interrupted, and Mr Jacobi was well aware of this. However Jacobi didn’t sink back in his seat by the glare. Maxwell looked up from her tablet on the other side of the table, surprised. 

“Mr Jacobi,” Kepler’s voice was stern. He cleared his throat, and another light puff of air escaped his lips, this one more… shapely. 

“Warren,” Cutter’s voice had that strange inflection that sounded almost like a question, but not quite. The effect was chilling. “Do you have a cold?”

Kepler frowned. “With all due respect, sir,” Kepler said, trying not to sound annoyed. The very idea of it was laughable, but there was an itch in the back of his throat, but he fought the urge to clear his throat again. “I do not get colds.”

“You do seem a little flush,” Maxwell pointed out from the back of the room. Her head was cocked to the side and she was frowning slightly, calculating. 

“It’s just the heating. Anyway—“ he began, but Jacobi promptly cut him off.

“It’s freezing outside, sir,” he pointed out. “And the heating’s barely on.”

Cutter shrugged, as if he’d been referenced. “Cutting expenses,” he said simply. 

The itching grew. Kepler parted his lips, attempting to get the meeting back on track, but a cough erupted from his throat. He promptly covered his mouth and turned away as the fit grew in intensity. When it was over, he righted himself stubbornly and cleared his throat. 

“It’s nothi—“

“Oh, but it’s not nothing,” Ms Young said from the back of the room, where she sat next to Maxwell. Her voice was dipped in an oversold, sarcastic concern. “Surely you’re in no position to work like this.” Ms Young nodded once, decisively. “Yes, you definitely must rest.”

Kepler gritted his teeth. The result came out less aggressive and more like a grimace, but the world had started spinning already and it was hard to tell. 

“Ms Young—“

“Actually,” Cutter interrupted, upbeat. “Rachel is right. You should rest.”

“Sir—“

“We’ll see you in a few days, Warren,” Cutter said. Then, as an afterthought, he spun in his chair

(He loved spinny chairs)

and turned to the rest of the SI-5. “I trust you two will take good care of him.”

Kepler dismayed. Jacobi brightened. Maxwell blinked. 

There was nothing to do. The order was given. 

“Right then!” Cutter sprang from his chair and clapped his hands once. “Now that that’s taken care of, who wants a chai latte?”

“Under no circumstances.”

“Sir—“ Jacobi protested, catching up with Kepler. Maxwell sped walk to keep up with them.

“It was a direct order, sir,” she supplemented. 

“This is also a direct order,” he said through gritted teeth, though he was well aware that it was a lost battle. “I do not get sick.”

The itching in the back of his throat intensified mockingly. 

Maxwell rolled her eyes. “Yes, we all know you’ve got an immune system that puts Fort Knox to shame. Bla bla. You’re sick now.”

“Doctor Maxwell—“

“You see how there’s a ‘Doctor’ there?”

“Your doctorate is in robotics,” Jacobi deadpanned, in spite of himself. Maxwell waved it away.

“Splitting hairs.”

“If you want, we can call Dimitri,” came the voice from behind. Kepler’s frown deepened as he turned. Rachel looked perfectly satisfied with herself. “Or Selberg. Hilbert? Whatever he calls himself these days. He is a medical doctor, after all.”

“Ms Young,” Kepler said dryly. “Thank you for your invaluable input during the meeting. It’s touching to know you worry about my health.”

“You know me, I’m just a soul of mercy,” Rachel walked past the three of them, waving them off as she passed. “Don’t linger, Warren, you’ll contaminate the premises.”

Rachel was thankfully out of reach by the time the coughing fit began. Maxwell and Jacobi exchanged a concerned look that annoyed Kepler to no end. When he stopped, he sighed in stubborn defeat.

“Alright, fine. I will go home.”

Jacobi brightened. “Great! I will pass by the pharmacy—“

“—alone, Mr Jacobi,” Kepler finished. Jacobi’s jaw dropped. “If I am to take a sick leave, you are under no obligation to look after me during my recovery.”

“It’s no bother—“

“— I didn’t say ‘bother,’ I said ‘obligation.’ I’ll sleep it off and be back on my feet by tomorrow,” Kepler said with finality. Maxwell rolled her eyes.

“Is it even legal to be this stubborn? I’m serious. I want a lawyer on this.”

Kepler ignored her. “You two catch up on paperwork. Run drills. Watch paint dry.” He cleared his throat, again, and began walking away, giving them his back. “Just let this rest.”

Maxwell and Jacobi exchanged a look. 

They would not let this rest. 

Chapter Text

When the dry, chill air of outside filled his nostrils, Kepler began itching, just like the back of his throat. He walked as fast as he could while keeping an unconcerned stance, occasionally looking at his watch as if he were late for an event.

(The idea was laughable. Kepler was never late.)

He reached his car

(he couldn’t tell you the brand of the car, though. It was company issued, and Kepler had little patience to be dealing with banalities)

and quickly got on, closing the doors with tinted windows before a new coughing fit assaulted him. He settled on this one with gusto, allowing his lungs to propel anything they wanted as loudly as they wanted, now that he was out of earshot. 

The whooping cough came to a close as the itch in his nose became far too unbearable, and he sneezed. One. Two. Three —five times. Always five. 

Finally drained by the course of action his respiratory tract was taking, Kepler allowed his shoulders to slump, just an inch, and sigh audibly. The heat underneath his collar was becoming unbearable, and there was sweat dripping down his back. 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as peachy keen as he’d insisted. That didn’t mean he was sick, though. 

A mild cough left his lips in the form of stubborn, puffs of air, but he chose not to acknowledge it. 

He set the car on drive and left.

By the time he reached the underground garage of his apartment building, Kepler’s nose had begun to run. The continuous sniffling he had to do to keep anything from sliding undignifyingly down his nose was almost as bad as the coughing itself. This was slightly easier to take care of, as he simply brought his handkerchief to his nose. It was the middle of the morning, and the parking lot was blissfully empty, save for the rather ostentatious SUVs some of the other tenants preferred to keep as a second vehicle. 

He pressed his card against the elevator’s sensor and soon, the number 39 appeared on screen. His eyes had started to droop as the congestion slowly filled his sinuses. By the time the elevator opened into his apartment, he was more than ready to fall flat into bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. 

What he was not ready for, however, was the sight of splashed water in the middle of his hallway. 

What the—?

“Look out, sir! There was a slight miscalculation with the amount of hot water, but I’m on it.” Jacobi entered right into the hallway from the kitchen, dragging a mop and its bucket. He immediately got to work on the splash, wiping it with a slight excess of vigor, Kepler thought. 

He blinked. Focus, Warren.

“Mr Jacobi,” he tried to use his stern voice—tried. What came out was a rasped breath and a closed mouthed cough. “What are you—“

“Passed by the pharmacy, sir,” Jacobi said enthusiastically, putting the mop aside and bringing a bag closer. “I think you’ll find everything you need here,” he added proudly. 

“How did you find my home?” Kepler asked, his voice gruff but slightly less potent than usual. He hated it. 

“Your car’s computer continuously records only three locations,” Maxwell said brightly, emerging from the kitchen with a large, steaming pot. “I’m not sure how you go to the gym four times a day on a weekday, but hey, you do you.”

Kepler removed the kerchief from his mouth. “What is—“ he immediately regretted it as the stench of whatever Maxwell had reached his nostrils. The kerchief went back on. “Doctor Maxwell what the hell is that?”

Maxwell blinked, enthusiasm not dampened. “Can’t you tell? I made some soup!”

Jacobi groaned. “Please don’t tell me it’s your grandmother’s old rabbit suit recipe.”

Maxwell narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not for you, so what do you care.”

“Well, I—“

“How the hell did you two get here before I did?” Kepler asked, his voice finally climbing back to the booming pitch he loved so much. 

Maxwell snorted. “You’ve seen Jacobi drive, haven’t you?” The aforementioned huffed.

“At least I have a driver’s license.”

“That’s a cheap shot!” Maxwell cried out. 

“I thought I was perfectly clear,” Kepler said, trying to keep a lid on his temper, which his was losing spectacularly. “That you two were to let this matter rest.”

Jacobi hesitated. “Well, you did, but…”

“Mr Cutter did say we had to look after you,” Maxwell finished brightly. “So come on, and let us take care of you!”

Kepler filled his lungs, ready for a telling off, and he watched Jacobi shrink back a bit, Maxwell crossing her arms self-defensively.

Okay, so they were still terrified at least. Good. 

As soon as his lungs expanded enough and he parted his lips for a yell, a cough overtook him so violently, he spasmed, turning to the side and burying his face in the kerchief. A hand on his back.

“Sir?” Jacobi ask, poorly hiding growing concern. Kepler straightened as he gathered a grip on himself, casually settling his hand against the wall and not at all holding himself up with it. 

“You’ve brought supplies and made food,” Kepler said as calmly as the situation allowed him. “Your work is done. Go home.”

“But—“

“Go. Home.”

Maxwell sighed and Jacobi deflated. They muttered a yes, sir, quietly withdrawing to the elevator. A thought struck Kepler before the doors opened. 

“Wait. How did you get into the apartment?”

Maxwell grinned, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “Oh, please,” was all she said as she stepped inside and the doors closed between them.

Kepler rubbed his face. 

It was probably better not to know. 

Chapter Text

Kepler never thought he’d actually be glad for a stuffed nose, but considering it managed to occlude the smell of Maxwell’s soup, he was rather thankful. 

Still, he had a hard time throwing it out. For some reason or another, she and Jacobi had taken it upon themselves to care for him, and it was hard to fault them for trying, his inability to be perceived as weak notwithstanding.

So, much to his own chagrin, he poured himself a plate. 

The spice in it managed to clear his nostrils, at least, but the rest of his body was less thrilled with the concoction, and he had to rush to the bathroom to throw up.

He should’ve known better than to trust Maxwell’s cooking, sentimentality aside. 

“You do it.”

“No way.”

“Alana, it’s your turn.”

Maxwell scoffed. “How is it my turn?”

“I’ve flirted with the last three guards!” Jacobi exclaimed. Maxwell considered it for a moment. 

“Yes, but see, you’re so much better at it,” she grinned. They stood in front of Kepler’s building, watching the entrance. There was a security guard who would never let them pass without approval from Kepler, and he certainly would not give it. 

Jacobi raised his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, frustrated. 

“Look, statistically speaking, he’s more likely to respond to you, and you know it.”

“Did you just use math against me?” Maxwell asked, flabbergasted.

Jacobi snorted. “What, you think I can’t handle basic math?” He crossed his arms. Maxwell tilted her head to the side and little, considering it. 

“No, actually I’m a little impressed,” she admitted, patting him on the back. He glared at her, and she laughed easily. “Okay, fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re doing my reports for a week.”

“Now I know you’re gonna botch it on purpose.”

Maxwell sighed and shook her head, as if she thought he had no hope. “You underestimate my pride.”

“No, you underestimate how much you hate doing paperwork.” Jacobi raised an eyebrow. 

“Look. I’m not gonna botch it on purpose, alright? Right now Kepler needs us, and that’s what we need to focus on.”

Jacobi rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine, you go and be the reasonable one.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Like shooting a fish in a barrel, when you’re the other party involved.”

“Hey!” Jacobi scowled. Maxwell wasn’t the least bit sorry. “Come on, stop stalling.” 

Maxwell whined a complaint, but Jacobi pushed her gently towards the door, not before loosening her hair from a haphazard ponytail she had put on that morning. Catching her footing, she stepped into Kepler’s building, running through possible scenarios in her mind. She resisted the urge to groan as she reached the security guard— this was not in her skill set, thank you very much. 

The security guard was thankfully young and moderately attractive, she supposed, although it was hardly her field of interest. he watched her approach and saw his eyebrows raise for a split second in what she hoped was appreciation. She quit dragging her feet and drew a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached the guard. 

“Hi,” she said, trying to give him a winning smile. She was not aware of how much it looked like a grimace. 

“Afternoon, ma’am,” the guard said curtly. “Which floor are you visiting?”

Maxwell pretended to consider it for a moment, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, far too conspicuously.

“Oh, no floor,” she said, but her tone was high pitched and over the top. She took a deep breath to steady herself—

—then turned on her heel and walked out the door.

She reached Jacobi in no time, blushing to the roots of her hair. 

“Wow,” Jacobi said, and he did sound genuinely impressed.

“Not a word.”

“No, I’m genuinely impressed,” Jacobi said.

“Shut up.” Maxwell spoke through gritted teeth.

“I did not know a human being could fail that spectacularly at something, and yet what I just witnessed has left me speechless.”

“If you tell anyone about this, I will slip wasabi into every single lunch you eat from here to the end of the month.”

“Alright, fine. I won’t say anything,” he promised. “Scout’s honor and all that jazz.”

Maxwell’s shoulders relaxed. “Alright. Good. Now we need to find another way in.”

Jacobi didn’t need to tell her that he’d recorded her little number, did he?

It would make for such a good surprise on her birthday.