“I hear someone got new digs,” she announced, brown eyes twinkling.
Syler blinked and glanced over at the door to his office, shut up but with the blinds drawn open for the first time in memory, allowing a clear view into the now usable interior. He’d completely forgotten until now. The sleep deprivation really must be catching up with him. “Ah, yes. It’s actually really nice now that it’s cleaned out. No more nightmare fuel.”
“Mmhm,” she hummed, teasing. “And who do we have to thank for that, huh S?”
“Agent Dufault is apparently trying to work his way into my good graces before whatever stunt he pulls on his next deployment.” Maria gave him a knowing look. Syler refused to rise to the bait.
“I hear you’re his new handler now,” she continued, tone entirely too cajoling. Why was he friends with this woman?
Syler turned towards the break room, intent on securing a cup of coffee if he was going to be subjected to ridicule this early in the morning. “As per the Director’s decree, yes. You can all rejoice; he’s my headache now.” He moved to the coffee maker and frowned to find it empty. The night shift had apparently been too busy gossiping to start another pot. He set about making a fresh batch and waited for the inevitable needling to resume.
Reyes did not disappoint. “I also hear that he brought you dinner.”
Syler huffed, breath disturbing a stray curl. He really needed to get a haircut. “Do you think it’s safe to assume I’ll have gray hair by the end of his next mission?”
“Well,” the petite woman replied, “that’s certainly one interpretation. On the other hand...”
Syler groaned. It was too early for this. “Maria,” he whined, turning back to face her beseechingly.
Her eyes glinted mischievously. “I’m just saying, S, he’s easy on the eyes.”
“He’s my agent. We work together.”
“And?”
“It was just a nice gesture!” She fixed him with a disbelieving look. “He flirts with everything that moves. You can’t seriously think—”
She cut him off, expression wicked. “Oh, more than think. I’m confident.”
Syler was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Agent Sampson, ready to be briefed and outfitted for his infiltration assignment in Egypt. Bless the man and his punctuality, this day might be salvaged yet. He exited the break room, decidedly not fleeing, thank you very much, desperately hoping that would be the end of it.
“Think about what I said, boss!” Maria called after him cheerfully.
---
By nine a.m., he was safely ensconced in his new office, knee deep in reviewing the performance logs from yesterday’s server upgrades. He reached for his coffee, frowning when he was met with an empty mug, and shook his head, preparing to grab a refill.
“Morning sunshine.” Syler startled, eyes darting to the doorway. Dufault lounged against the frame casually, clad in slim gray joggers and a thin white t-shirt, faintly darkened along the edges with sweat and at least two sizes too small. He must’ve just left the downstairs gym. Syler swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “How’s the new office treating you?”
Syler cleared his throat, shoving aside thoughts he was choosing to blame on Maria’s meddling. “I’m still not totally convinced it’s actually mine, to be honest. Although, they’ve started redirecting the paperwork here already, so maybe they’ll let me keep it if I stay quiet.”
“Mm, don’t tell me my favorite hacker has a case of impostor syndrome,” he teased. Syler flushed, cursing whatever combination of sheer exhaustion and misplaced gratitude that had led to him sharing the story of his hiring the night before. “Oh, you’re cute when you blush.”
Syler schooled his expression into a veneer of professionalism. “Can I help you with something?” He made a show of pulling up the mission docket. “I don’t see any pending assignments for you.”
“Can’t I just come see how you’re settling in?” he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets as he did. His shirt rode up over his hips. Syler refused to look. “I put a lot of sweat equity into this place. I just want to make sure it’s working out.”
“It’s absolutely wonderful, yes, thank you,” Syler returned a touch awkwardly. A brief silence stretched between them that the agent seemed in no rush to fill. God, what did the man want from him?
Arthur huffed out a breath, apparently amused. “So, what do you say—”
“Agent Dufault!” came the booming voice of the Colonel from behind him. “Good morning! Is Syler in there?”
‘Oh bless, I’m saved,’ Syler thought, watching as Thompson’s head appeared over Dufault’s shoulder in the doorway. The Director of Operations surveyed the room, nodding his approval, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
“I haven’t seen this room usable in half a decade. Did it take you all night, S?” Alright, saved was a relative term. Syler sank deeper into his chair, resisting the urge to pull his hair out in frustration.
“Erm, no. Dufault did it while I was overseeing the server improvements yesterday,” Syler replied, desperately hoping the upgrades would provide a distraction.
“Oh, that was kind of you, Arthur.” The Colonel clapped him heartily on the shoulder.
“Well,” Arthur replied, “it seemed only fitting that our new deputy have an actual space of his own. We can’t have the NSA luring him away with promises of a corner office.”
Thompson barked out a laugh. “Too right! Perrin’s my only hope of retiring by my 70th birthday!” He winked conspiratorially. Syler bit back a groan. “Say, I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal him away for a bit.” He turned his attention to Syler. “I’ve just gotten back the trajectory readings on the new missiles. I’d like a second pair of eyes for the adjustments.”
“Of course.” Syler grabbed onto the lifeline, pushing back from the desk and collecting his tablet in one smooth motion. Any port in a storm. “Sorry to cut this short, Dufault.” He
