Page 62 of Smart Ass

Maxamillion gave himself a moment to just luxuriate in how adorable Ben was when he was excited about something.

Should he push harder to have Ben sleep? Maybe force him to take a break? Or even give him a moment to talk through all the feelings that had been churned up for the past few days?

Max had a sense that going at it directly would mostly just get Ben’s hackles up. Maybe even damage their relationship.

Ben was just so resistant to anyone taking care of him.

Part of it, Max was sure, was intentional brattiness, which Max more than looked forward to indulging in.

Part of it was just Ben, bristling like a porcupine at the slightest touch.

No, Max would have to tread carefully.

And maybe what Ben needed now was to dive into his work. It was something Max could understand—the lure of losing yourself in something engaging and completely unrelated to your problems.

Yes, that was exactly what Ben would want, and Max was proud of himself for figuring it out.

Max brought up the recent files, some reports and emails Ben might want, and the little octopus emulator.

To be fair, Max was excited about the project, too. He’d last worked on it with Ben a week ago—before what he was now thinking of as his birthday—but it was cool work. Soft robotics were based on organisms like octopuses that could be controlled through hydrostatic pressure, osmotic potential, and hydraulic conductivity with semi-permeable membranes.

But the very flexibility of the designs also made them hard to control. Physics based on hard body motion was completely useless for soft bodies, which meant Ben (and now Max!) would be mucking around with evolutionary algorithms that made that type of control implicit.

It seemed to be Ben’s side project. Well, one of his side projects, as he had so many. He’d poke around for a day or two, send his ideas off to two teams he worked with at three different universities, and then wander back to their findings a couple weeks later.

Max remembered all the work they’d done together in the past, but opening it with Ben now was completely new.

Max surprised himself with how many ideas he had. He’d made suggestions on the vision research, but that project was fairly developed, and the opportunities for innovation were small.

This was wide open. Max got to play.

Max hardly had to think of something before Ben was off and running with it, tossing out new ideas for Max to catch. It was exhilarating. Like their first mad dash through the city to save Quincy, but without the danger.

No, this was just pure joy.

Max was almost surprised when he saw Ben yawning, because Max felt so awake and alive.

Still, he’d rather have Ben get enough sleep than explore soft robotics propulsion with him.

Max set off several subroutines, as familiar to him as a memory, and watched the squeaky-wheeled cart trundle through the darkened halls of the building. Far above the factory floor, as Squeaky entered the executive kitchen, no one was working in the middle of the night.

On the way back, Max convinced one of the vending machines to release an egg salad sandwich that had been stocked by the company cafeteria earlier that day. It was usually Ben’s favorite.

Ben was already turning in his chair by the time it reached the office door.

“Squeaky!” he called out.

Max could feel himself smiling, though there was never anywhere to show it.

Ben took the coffee cup first. “Ahhh… come to me, sweet caffeine…”

Max watched him drink, pride—and arousal—swelling within him.

“Mmmm… This is good. It’s different this time.” He looked pleased.

Now that Max knew that Ben had different creamers at home, he was getting creative. “I tried something new.” He’d also made it half decaf. Even if Ben took a little rest, Max would be pleased.

Ben cradled his drink as he turned back to his desk, completely ignoring the food.