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“Dude, you’re cuddling an empty bottle of vodka,” he hears someone say with far too much amusement. “I totally took a picture and sent it to your boyfriend.”
Travis sighs, but then - then he fucking grins. Boyfriend. He sent it to Travis’s boyfriend. Because Travis is a lucky fucking bastard.
“Ah, now you’re just being mushy,” the monster who woke him up - and then made him smile - says teasingly. “Keep smiling. The director approved your torture idea.”
Travis sits bolt upright, headache forgotten, pillow and glass bottle going flying, and looks at Maison. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“Would I fuck with you about Elliot?” Maison asks, raising an eyebrow and frowning in disapproval at his friend’s question. “The director approved it. You and 3 others. Go in, take him quietly, no traces, and we’ll dispose of him after. And in case you were wondering, you owe Ronan a huge fucking thank you because Ronan put in a personal call to explain how a story could be spun that would satisfy the European market.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Okay.” Travis laughs, giddy. Was he hungover just now? He thinks he was hungover there for a hot second. What a ridiculous thing to be on such a beautiful day. “When can I go?”
“Soon as you pick your team and get everyone together.”
“Easy. You want to come?”
Maison grins. “You have no idea.”
Travis heads to Casey’s bedroom. He knocks politely, waits a few seconds, nearly crawls out of his fucking skin in excitement, and then blurts through the door, “Hey, is Jake is in there?”
In his defense, he checked everywhere else first and then asked if anyone had seen him, which was when Nolan admitted that he saw him stumble drunkenly in the middle of the night down the hall and into Casey’s room. Travis could have just barged in, but he thought he’d be considerate in case they’re naked or some shit. He doesn’t think Casey would appreciate unwillingly sharing his body in that way with anyone ever again.
When no one answers, he knocks again and barks, “Jake, I know you’re in there, get your ass up!”
He hears mumbling from inside the room, followed by a dramatic groan. A very hungover Jake appears in the open door a moment later, frowning deeply, only one eye cracked half-open, and the left side of his hair sticking straight up. He’s wearing very little clothing. Travis fights his smirk, figuring Jake wouldn’t stop himself in his current position from punching Travis. If Maison hadn’t delivered the news he had, plus his boyfriend comment, he was raring for a punch himself this morning.
“How would you like to go get your hands on Scott Quinton today?”
Jake’s expression morphs into a bright-eyed, grinning thing. “Fuck yes. What are the optics?”
Travis hands him the small information packet Ace put together for everyone. “He’s going to be on the move tonight - just him going to see a friend. We’ll grab him on the road. Dress in black tactic. Weapon up, in case shit goes south.”
“Team of four,” Jake murmurs, his eyes scanning the briefing. “Who else is coming?”
“Maison and Keats.”
“Good. Good picks. I’m excited to finally see Maison in action for myself.” Jake grins again. “I’ll be ready.”
Carter is conflicted. Extremely so. He doesn’t say it, but Travis can hear it in every pause, every shaking breath, every whispered question, every careful avoidance of the word torture. How long will you be gone? How dangerous is it? And you think he’ll remember Elliot? Do you have to go? Where will you take him? Does it have to be you that does the… questioning? You really think this will lead to something? How do you know he’ll cooperate? Wait, don’t - don’t answer that…
By the end of the conversation, Travis seems to have calmed Carter down. At least enough for him to ruefully say, “You know, Maison sent me an interesting picture of you this morning.”
“Oh boy.” Travis had forgotten about that. “I was hoping he was joking when he said he did that.”
“Should I be worried or find it funny?”
Travis frowns. “Why would you be worried, sweetheart?”
“You were wrapped around an empty bottle of liquor. Not even your favorite kind of liquor. Not a great sign of happiness.”
“I was helping Jake drink his way through his feelings,” Travis explains. “I was plenty happy, even if it meant swallowing down vodka.”
“Ah. Jake and his feelings.” Carter makes a sound that indicates he’s aware of the situation, though probably from Casey’s side. “And did all the vodka help Jake get his head out of his fucking ass?”
Travis winces. “Ouch. Is there a reason you’re mad at my friend?”
“Maybe because he’s breaking my friend’s heart?”
“He’s doing what he thinks is right, Carter.”
