agoodyarn | for mrballisticdummy: romantic? cabin snowstorm college au option 2

for mrballisticdummy: romantic? cabin snowstorm college au option 2

The Harvard/MIT shared retreat had gone well enough. So well, in fact, that Warren James Kepler, who had gone without egg in his ramen for three months to pay for this stupid goddamn trip, wasn't about to leave early when everyone else did given the storm rolling in. As far as he's concerned, he knows how to manage a snow storm (growing up in Chicago had it's benefits) and he knows how to make due, so even if he gets stuck here, that just means he has a longer vacation than he'd paid for. Which is a good thing. Plus, he gets the whole place to himself!

...at least he'd thought so before he realized that there was one of the MIT guys still passed out in their bunks.

"So... did you want breakfast, hot stuff?"

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Jacobi did not, in fact, plan on sticking around. He has things to do. He has at least a million projects that are all due at the same time.

Not that it mattered the night before when he had a bit too much to drink and forgot to set his alarm.

He hears the unfamiliar voice and raises his head from his pillow, hair askew as he groans. "What time is it?" he mutters, not registering the question.

"Nine AM," he provides, and it's clear from the tone and the uprightness and the fact that he looks good this early in the morning (also possibly the sizzle of bacon? that's definitely bacon, and maybe coffee, smells like good coffee) makes it clear that he's been up for a while.

"So... could be worse. But? Everyone's gone. Annnnnnnd I don't know if you checked the windows? Buuuut, uh, weeeee're definitely stuck here for at least another day."

Beat.

"Breakfast?"

Daniel buries his face in the pillows. "Wonderful," he mutters and pushes himself out of the bunk, throwing a sweatshirt over his bare chest.

Who actually makes breakfast? Daniel hasn't been awake early enough for breakfast in years. Except when he had that eight am class.

He doesn't remember that semester.

"Alright, random dude who definitely isn't a serial killer. Guess I'm having breakfast."

There's a single bark of a laugh before he's turning around and heading for the kitchen, leaving the sloppy MIT guy to get himself functional while he starts plating up their food. Thankfully, his little side venture hadn't been too long so he didn't burn the bacon. And the eggs cooked up in the bacon grease?

Absolutely perfect.

He finishes toasting the toast in the last of the oil as he plates up the whole thing. If MIT guy isn't there yet, he's going to let him know that breakfast's up with a shout. Otherwise, the plate is being put in front of him.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sits back down on his bunk with a sigh.

Goddamn.

Goddamn it's early and he's in so much shit.

But he has to do this. He can do this. He takes a breath and pulls his hair back from his face before he stands up. He definitely remembers this guy from some of the events, because Daniel can appreciate good looks, but Jesus Christ, does he have to be a morning person?

Daniel doesn't trust morning people.

He lets out a breath and stands up, throwing on socks and wanders into the kitchen. As soon as he sits down with coffee, the plate's put in front of him and he frowns. "Thanks, Bobby Flay," he mutters. "So lawyer-to-be, what's your name?"

"Warren," he says as he puts together his own plate, his cheerfulness not marred by the slight lisp as he continues, "what about you, Mr. Engineer?"

It's as good a guess as the 'lawyer' thing. After all, both schools did more than that. But it helps that MIT guy is actually right. His new benefactor needed him to have a law degree and to pass the bar so, there he was.

It's a little cute, he thinks, but doesn't let himself get too drawn into that because boys from Harvard with faces like his don't mess with boys from MIT who don't wear matching socks. Doesn't hurt to sneak looks, though. He takes a drink of his coffee. "Daniel," he answers.

Engineer is also not incorrect. It's vague enough. "And you're wrong," he yawns. "About the snow. It's not just an extra day."

He wouldn't be this fussed about a single day.

He glances back at Daniel as he finishes with his plate and brings it over, along with a glass of orange juice.

"That so? Been up here a lot?"

Doesn't sound like he's doubting him so much as curious. He's never been in a place like this before; the whole point of going, other than to make the kind of connections and friendships that would serve him later, was to get the experience. Snow he's known, cold he's known, but that sounds like there's more.

"Mmhmm," he answers, picking apart the toast first. He thinks longingly of his Lucky Charms stashed in his suitcase. "Every year." He doesn't really particularly like it or want it, but it's not like he has a choice in it. His parents pay for it and, he might be a grown ass adult, but they still pay the school bills. So if they want him to go meet and greet people with influence, then he goes.

"The snows usually don't come this early, but - " He shrugs. "Climate change. Hope you like bad television until the plows make it up this far. You were around to make the exodus. Why did you stick around anyway?"

"I?" he says as he neatly cuts up his bacon into a number of roughly equal-sized pieces. Then one of those pieces is going to be used to eat some egg and scoop some bread, all in one delicious bite. "Paid for this goddamn trip. And I was not. about. to give up a day. because of the weather."

He waggles his eyebrows.

"How long does it take for the plows to make it up?"

So it's like that. Daniel yawns. "Couple - three days," he predicts. "Which means I'm going to miss at least two deadlines, but I'm not exactly in the mood to hike back out there and dig my truck out. So. Here we are."

He takes an actual bite of the eggs and bacon and, well, alright - the Lucky Charms aren't as appealing anymore. "You know what this needs?" he mutters. "Some really good feta."

He blinks at the suggestion and looks down at the breakfast in front of him, and then the one in front of Daniel. Feta? He's... probably had that once? He can barely remember what that tastes like. Would it be good? Maybe. Huh.

"There might be some in the 'fridge. I... didn't look?"

He slips out of the chair and goes to the fridge, pulling out the container and giving it a sniff. Still good. Not great quality, but that's all they have. He spoons a bit onto his plate and slides it over to Warren. "Try it," he grumbles.

Daniel's not a cook, but everything is better with the right kind of cheese.

He folds it up into the toast and takes a bite.

Much better.

Warren looks skeptical, since the cheese is weird and crumbly and reminds him of the cheese they put on the tacos near his apartment, but he reaches over and takes a little, then adds it to a bite of toast, bacon, and eggs.

HUH.

"Just the right amount of brightness," he says thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that." A soft laugh. "Nice going, Daniel."

Getting that praise is unexpected and he looks up, a bit startled by it. It takes him a half second to recover. "Yeah, uh - thanks. Feta's pretty versatile," he tells him as he finishes up his breakfast and brushes off his hands.

Feta's pretty versatile. Smooth.

More coffee. Definitely. He stands up to refill his cup. "So are you really doing law? Or are you one of those weird guys who goes to Harvard to study religion or something?"

The comeback earns Daniel a slightly teasing waggle of his eyebrows and a 1000-watt smile. He has a little more of breakfast before he nods.

“Law, civil, of course, with a focus on contracts and real estate. What about you?”

He takes another bite and smiles at him.

“What kind of engineer are you?”

The smile is met with an eyeroll. He's not even a fun lawyer.

"Oh, I just like to blow shit up," he says easily and it might be hard to tell if he's being serious. At least until he continues with a grin. "Explosives and ballistics. I'm working with a team to develop a new sort of missile right now."

He sits back down at the table.

The eyeroll gets another of those laughs but the answer gets a nod and a mega-watt smile.

"That sounds interesting as hell. Private sector or military?" And he holds up a hand to wave off the question before it could even start to be answered. "Sorry, sorry. I'm nosy. And that sounds like a great opportunity."

Daniel watches the smile and, surprisingly, Warren gets one in return.

"It is," he tells him. "But uh, yeah. It's military."

He fixes his hair a bit and leans on the table. "But it's just a...theory at the moment."

He can't help that his goes a little wider at that. MIT is definitely shaping up to be the kind of person he wouldn't mind weathering a storm with.

"Theory. Call me crazy? But I'm going to say that I bet? Your theory's going to work out."

Full faith as he works on his breakfast.

"I hope the military's helping with your tuition. Or you've got your ass covered when it comes to patents."

Well, for a Harvard Lawyer Type, this Warren guy isn't so bad. On another person, Daniel might take that compliment and tell him where to shove it. But from him, it actually sounds sincere. Sincere enough that Daniel actually doesn't quite know what to say to it. He's not used to genuine compliments.

"Yeah," he says, grateful for the change in subject, even as he stands up to clean his part of the table. "Military's pitching in. You don't think they let me own what I make? It's the military!"

"You can let anyone let you keep anything if they want the right to use it badly enough," Warren says as he works on his food. He's had less time, since he'd cleaned up the cooking dishes.

"But it's good they're not fleecing you. They try the darndest stuff and wrap it in 'love of country'. As if 'country' ever paid the bills."

"Oh don't start with me," he says with a huff, joining him at the table again. There's no rush. No reason to hurry. And the conversation is well worth it.

Besides, he has some coffee left.

"Dear old dad's an Air Force recruiter so I get that speech all the time. 'It's all about freedom and country, son.' Yeah, okay."

"My grandpa served," he says and there's something in his eyes that he doesn't hide, exactly, but it's also clearly not something he expects to go into. It just is. "'Freedom and country' are bought on an individual basis. At least in my experience."

He sighs and shakes some of that off.

"But that's way too heavy for a place like this, you know? Even if we're stuck in here. With allll this beer. And food. And room."

He appreciates the bit of reciprocity, though he didn't expect it at all. Daniel's not used to that form his friends, and certainly not from strangers he's stuck in a cabin with.

"All this room?" he asks, grinning a little wickedly. And maybe it's that bit of genuine feeling he saw, maybe it was the feta. Maybe it was that goddamn smile. But something makes him push a little. "And what do you intend to do with all this room? Because if you're going to Risky Business dance through this place, I deserve a little heads up."

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