"Hermann!"

"I am literally right next to you. Shouting is completely unnecessary."

As if Hermann hadn't said a word (why he even bothers is a mystery, honestly) Newton blurts "Hermann!" again, grabbing the man beside him with one hand and gesturing wildly toward the television with the other. "Look!"

If Hermann had a nickle for every time he has sighed in exasperation when concerning Newton, he would be a goddamn billionaire. Heaving yet another, he lowers his book and peers over the circular rim of his glasses, squinting at the screen before rolling his eyes (oh, if he had a penny). "My stars, Newton. It's the weather channel. Alert the press."

"No, smartass, the forecast! Look what's coming next weekend." Newton is grinning so wide it's a wonder his face hasn't broken in two. When Hermann doesn't answer, Newton takes to beating his palm against one of the feet Hermann has lounged in his lap.

"Ow! You're going to break my toes you big oaf -"

"Snow!" Newton is practically glowing. Hermann can feel the man's muscles tensing beneath his feet with restraint, as if Newton will spring straight in the air if he doesn't physically hold himself down. "It's going to snow!"

Hermann snaps his book closed and tears his reading glasses from his face. He is not a man of faith but there are times when he says a silent prayer or two to any higher being that may or may not exist and this is one of those times; let it not be true, he begs, but as he reads the forecast, the background of which is a disgusting swirl of snowflakes, he feels his heart slowly sink into his stomach. He groans loudly and deflates into the couch. An arm cranes over his eyes.

" - and sledding and hot cocoa and Christmas lights and -"

"I hate snow."

Newton's mouth might have actually screeched with the force he has to exert to halt his words. "What? You don't like - what? Snow? Snow is awesome! Dude, how can you hate snow?"

"It isn't just snow in particular," Hermann grumbles. "It's winter in general. The ice, the snow, the bloody cold -"

"Hermann. Herms. You're killing me."

Hermann removes his arm from his vision to see Newton holding a hand over his heart. The man is even pouting like a child. "You're a child," Hermann uselessly informs him.

"Because I like building snowmen and making snow angels and ice skating and all that other fun stuff? Well, shit. I like being a child, then." Newton turns his chin up mockingly before facing the television again. "What do you have against winter? It's not like you're a summer guy. Or any season guy, for that matter. Summer's too hot, fall is too windy, spring makes your allergies act up -"

"For a man with several PhD's under his belt, you are unimaginably thick."

"Is it because of Christmas? This will be our first Christmas together, so I guess I should tell you now that I'm probably going to watch Elf four hundred times and I have a tote of decorations in storage, and if you're a total Grinch I kind of need to know that now so I can work on a device that will make your heart grow three sizes without killing you." Newton looks at Hermann and grins, but it falters when he sees that the other man is not going along with his (what he believes to be) funny banter.

Hermann shakes his head and looks at the ceiling, one hand absently trailing across the thigh of his perpetually damaged limb. A faint flush of embarrassment builds in his cheeks. Perhaps that is the wrong emotion - Hermann has had to live with his handicap longer than he hasn't and he learned to play the cards he's been dealt a long time ago, but it's still difficult to discuss the way it affects him ever day, every year, every winter. "It's hard enough for me to get around as it is," he finally says. " The ice and the snow ... it just complicates things further."

"Oh, Hermann -"

"Don't start. I mean it." Hermann looks at him with stern eyes even if it is hard to do so when Newton looks so apologetic (if he had a quarter for every time that happened, he might be able to afford a gumball). "It's just a temporary nuisance. Hardly something to get worked up over."

A minute lapses in silence. Hermann, considering the matter closed, has shut his eyes, intending to doze, but is pulled fully back to consciousness when he feels a patch of warmth collecting at his bad knee. He only barely manages not to break Newton's nose with it.

Newton is holding Hermann's leg with gentle hands and kissing his kneecap. And, Christ, this is rated G compared to the many other things Newton has done with that damned mouth of his, but Hermann's heart sputters like he's just been shocked.

"I'm sorry I'm so dumb." Newton leans forward, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he inches farther up Hermann's leg. "I'm the dumbest."

"Newton," Hermann breathes, lowering a hand to thread his fingers into Newton's wild hair. His eyes close again, relishing in the soothing warmth of Newton's kisses crawling up his leg. "Shut up and kiss my mouth, for God's sake."

Newton lifts his head and grins, all lopsided and gorgeous, using a knuckle to push his glasses back onto his nose. "Alright, man. No need to get fussy."

Hermann starts scowling and Newton hates that, so he kisses him until there's nothing but his name left on his mouth.

Sweet baby kaiju, so kawaiiiii~

Sweet baby kaiju, sweet sweet baby kaiju~

"Newton Geiszler, if you do not shut off that phone at once I swear on my mother's grave I will throw it into the ocean, you hear me?"

There isn't a response, just the alarm's tone looping from the table on the other side of the bed. Sweet baby kaiju, so kawaiiii~

"Newton, you better be dead -" Hermann rolls over, intending to smack the man awake but his arm meets an empty mattress. Frowning, Hermann sits up and rubs a hand into his eyes before leaning over and snatching the blinking phone from the bedside table. It's nearly six in the morning, a full hour before Hermann usually gets out of bed and nearly two before Newton is even conscious most days. Why on earth would he have set an alarm this early?

Grumbling, Hermann slowly eases out of bed, hissing when he finally comes to a full stand. He really did need to look into buying a better mattress because this old spring of Newton's was going to drive him up the wall with the way it made his leg feel in the morning. Stepping into his slippers, he takes his cane and shuffles out of the bedroom. "Newton?"

The flat is empty and dark. Hermann slaps on lights as he moves through the hallway and into the kitchen, the next likely place Newton would be. It wasn't unlike him to get up in the middle of the night because one of his dreams gave him an idea and he just had to get to work on it right then (if Hermann had a dollar, by Gott). But the kitchen is bare and the only indication that anyone had even been there is the gurgling of the coffee pot. Hermann didn't even know Newton knew how to turn it on.

The bathroom is vacant, the living room. Hermann, despite his award winning logical brain, is beginning to panic. Newton is loose, doing God knows what God knows where, and Hermann begins to feel a sickening rise of anxiety that is alien to him. They haven't been living together for even a year yet, so some of Newton's idiosyncracies are still coming to light, but Hermann has never gotten the idea that Newton is the type to just leave, to just wake up before the sun and take off without a word.

For a moment Hermann considers contacting the police but can already imagine how odd that conversation would be. "Yes, 911? My Kaiju groupie boyfriend disappeared, he's in his thirties and he's wearing Godzilla pajama pants."

He doesn't know why he goes to the window - because he's panicking and there's nowhere else to look - but it's a good thing he does because the relief he feels when he sees the one and only Newton Geiszler bundled in a winter jacket two sizes too big saves Hermann from having a heart attack.

Hermann limps to the door and rips it open, hardly noticing the chilling wind that floods inside. It's snowing, thick, heavy flakes falling into his hair, on his eyelashes, but he doesn't see any of it, glaring instead at Newton's back. "What in the hell are you doing?!"

He really didn't mean to shout - he was just so, damn it all, he was scared. Newton jumps, whirling around and holding a shovel in front of him like some kind of shield.

"Jesus, Hermann, you scared the shit out of me -"

"I could say the same about you! You weren't in bed or anywhere in the flat, I almost panicked and - and -" Hermann sputters, finally aware of the biting cold on his hands, his face. His teeth begin violently clicking against each other. "What - what are you doing out here?"

Newton raises his arms and slaps them against his sides. "This isn't exactly the way I wanted to do this - I had a plan, damnit, and as usual you messed it all up by being nosey -"

"Nosey? Your bloody alarm was going off, you idiot!"

Newton's expression shifts from annoyance to grief so quickly Hermann would have missed it had he blinked. His shoulders sag forward until he is bowing over the shovel. "God damnit." Newton sighs and shakes his head, sweeping an arm forward to indicate the yard in front of their flat. "Well, you know, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about you hating snow and all that, so I thought I'd come out here and make sure the sidewalk was all shoveled for you before we left for work because I don't like knowing that it's hard for you to get around, because snow really is awesome and I promise we're going to work on making you not hate it so much and I can't wait to take you sledding, Hermann, it is a fucking blast -"

"Newton." Hermann has forgotten the cold. Leaving the door open behind him, Hermann climbs down the shoveled steps of the stoop and somewhere between there and where Newton is standing he abandons his cane, hobbling the last few steps until he is throwing his arms around the other man's neck and kissing him. Between kisses he manages to say, "You - darling - idiot -"

"I'm confused. Are you still mad at me for scaring you?" Newton's arms circle Hermann's slim waist and hold him close.

Hermann chuckles, kissing Newton again and again until they're both so cold they can't feel their mouths anymore.

If Hermann had a dollar for every time Newton made him fall more in love with him, he would be the richest man who ever lived.