~I don't own PacRim or any of its characters~
A/N: dedicated to the originator of most of the ideas written in this fic, Kelly. HAPPY BIRTHDAY
When Hermann finds Newt, bloody nosed and unconscious on the floor of their lab, his heart and stomach drop a thousand miles. The damned man had drifted. Alone. Newton had drifted alone. Alone, alone, alo- no, not even alone, with a kaiju. No, not even, that would be wishful thinking. A damned Kaiju should be bad enough for the man but to make it worse, as Newton so enthusiastically did at every opportunity, he'd drifted with the hacked-off frontal lobe of a semi-dead Kaiju brain that was being kept alive in an oversized fishbowl despite being pickled and dissected and goodness know what else-
Before he knew it, his cane had followed his internal organs to the floor and he was shaking the man conscious. He'd removed the practically taped-together instrument attached to Newt's head, bridal lifted him to the closest chair and was shoving a glass of water in the man's horrifically shaky hand before half-hobbling, half-sprinting down the corridor to where Pentecost and Henson (Sr.) were observing the Mori/Becket experiment.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-
Didn't he understand?
Didn't he think?
Didn't he remember?
Of course he didn't, he was Dr. Newton Geiszler; world-renown ignorer-and-forgetter and of the most imbecilic mind and he'd drifted alone- and he'd left him alone and- stupid, stupid, stupid, Hermann, bloody stupid.
"GEISZLER," Hermann had hissed. Of course it would have been Newton goddamned Geiszler. He'd been informed that due to housing cutbacks, he would have to share his even now, currently cramped house. He really shouldn't have expected any less. Because they'd 'hit it off straight away!' and 'intellectually stimulated with one another!' and 'did that whole nerdy banter-y thing'.
No, of course it didn't matter that he was a PhD student working on the single most important piece of work in his entire life and "Call-me-Newt" was studying in a field that barely ever resembled his. No of course it didn't matter that they fought more than ninety seven percent of the time they spent together. No of course it didn't bloody matter that Hermann was borderline OCD and could not, would not 'put up with' the slob-come-man-come-child that was Newton Geiszler.
"Suck it up, Gottleib," the fellow in the tweed-jacket said with his lazy blink and his disinterested, monotonous voice. If the phrase 'a stiff upper lip' could be personified, this was him. "You could have had worse. Trust me, you will thank me for this one day." He just needed a pipe, cane and monocle to be a rich uncle in a period drama.
Hermann went through an intense identity crisis in the millisecond that followed this statement. The half of him that respected authority and rules and regulations and treating your elders with respect sighed a resigned sigh and inwardly complained about the unjust nature of society and about how worrisome this affair truly was. The other half of him, (and currently the more convincing half,) wanted to rip the man a new arsehole and shove the shit he was calling advise right back into him.
He did neither.
"But Sir," Hermann started. This was ridiculous. He was being treated like a child, like a ruffian.
"Gottlieb," the man said in turn, starting to sound like he was going to verge onto the scolding side. "You and Geiszler are both incredibly special cases and, after last term's… 'accident', we both know; we all know that it would be safest for all of us if he were to have a respectable person such as yourself to be his-"
"Babysitter?!"
"Friend, Gottlieb, to be his friend. Don't you wish you had had someone like that in your early years at this establishment?"
The establishment in question was one Cambridge University. Hermann may have been a 'special case' for the last couple of years but even he was no match (to his continuous annoyance and, yes, envy,) compared to Newton. Hermann had entered Cambridge and now, at the age of 19, was about to get a doctorate in Mathematical Engineering. Not unremarkable but not quite as amazing as the fact that Newt, a year younger than he, was similarly close to getting a doctorate in some field of Biology, as well as being fresh from MIT and with 5 degrees already in his back pocket.
They'd only known each other for a couple of months but Newt was being transferred from his current accommodation for the seventh time, and this time it was Hermann's house that was being offered as sacrifice. The current thinking was that they were shoved together because at least when they fought, neither ran away in tears. Sure their arguments were loud, vicious and lengthy but they were intelligent and more often than not ended with peer-reviewed papers in one or two academic journals rather than yet another student dropping out because of 'onset emotional issues'.
The man… child… youth? -Oh gods it was difficult being a teenager- was insufferable and whiney and a self-proclaimed "rockstar" and wore his shirt with a leather jacket, skinny tie and his baby-face was a permanent grin and no someone needed to come up with a new phrase that meant baby-face because it implied something about Hermann that made him feel old and… and like he was a middle-aged pervert. Because goddamnit yes, he would admit that Newton also possessed good looks as well as incredible intellect and being called an "Old man" at the tender age of 19 by someone with a 'babyface' hurt quite a bit, thank you so no, Newt could not stay in his house because this would be problematic.
And now how to explain this to the nearly-bald Cambridge professor and personal advisor, as well as Head of the Department of Mathematics?
"A friend? No. Not particularly," Hermann said softly, having probably coloured first in rage, then in various other emotions before cooling to his usual pale, pale white. "Perhaps I would have appreciated an intellectual peer however a friend was and is not something I particularly desire."
"Semantics, Gottlieb; he is your intellectual peer, and he is to be sharing your housing before the end of the week."
"With all due respect, sir, I am fairly sure that such an intellect can function more than readily enough without needing tucking in at night and being cooked for-"
"Gottlieb."
"I did not come to this university to be this, this child's mother, I demand-"
"Gottlieb."
Hermann nearly shook with emotions ranging from rage to fear, love to hate. "Sir, this isn't-"
"GOTTLIEB." The don's voice mirrored the harshness of thunder and practically crackled with electricity. "No matter what you may think this is, this is not me asking you to tuck him in and to read him bedtime stories, to mother him like a child." A wad of paper, neatly clipped together with a bulldog clip was slammed to the table.
"But-"
"We, I am trusting you to make sure that one of the most gifted minds this college, this world, perhaps, will ever see, does not either burn the place down or burn himself out. Every sword needs a whetstone and both you and he suit both roles perfectly so get down off of your damned pride-filled horse and make sure that you do not come home to find that he has had one of his scalpels at his own wrists. Do you understand me?"
Oh.
The swathes of arguments he'd lined up dissipated. He tried saying something, but didn't know what to say, so he closed his now-aching jaw. He clamped it shut, in fact, to avoid it trembling as he could feel it was beginning to do. He nodded.
"Well… good." The don pushed the file towards him on the table. "Gottlieb… we're trusting you with this one. We… we've tried to do this conventionally but, as you have probably heard, conventions don't quite… suit this one. Six times we've given him the sturdiest or the kindest or the most attractive student in the hopes of… taming him as it were, so perhaps it's time to give him to the more rational… to someone who won't coddle him. Teach him to respect others that aren't yourself, Gottlieb."
'Tame'? They wanted Hermann to 'tame' Newt? They wanted to tame him they wanted to pacify him to cut off the rough edges and squeeze him into a box, they wanted to- they wanted to ruin him, tame him, -wait- respect others that weren't- "what?" Hermann was suddenly incredibly worried. This could imply two things and neither were particularly wanted- Did the don think Newton only respected Hermann? Or the complete opposite? Either way-
"Although I may not seem it, Gottlieb, I am in fact particularly liberal." The man held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers pointedly. It took Hermann a couple of very silent, old-book-scented seconds to realise. He blanched then coloured and oh god, oh god- "I, I'm afraid, am well past my sell-by-date, as it were. That is why," the man continued, his voice suddenly thawing by a couple hundred degrees, "this conversation and anything said, or, unsaid," he raised an eyebrow, "will not leave this room. You understand?"
Hermann gulped. He got very many mixed messages from this conversation and he was feeling utterly lost. He was sure he started this conversation not ten minutes ago with a vague rant about why he couldn't stand Newton's presence and now- it had ended here, at the inference that he and Newt were-
"I'm not- we're not.." he ended lamely, hopelessly, defeatedly.
"Read the folder if you want to, recycle it when you've finished with it."
Hermann took a couple of seconds to consider this, but nodded. He dreaded what was in the folder. What could it even be- he dreaded to think. Medical History? Jail sentences? Academic papers? He suddenly felt dizzy and parched and like he wanted to go back to the simpler life of completing his Thesis and programming weapons for secret government organisations- ugh.
"Any questions?" Hermann shook his head. "Good. I trust you'll commit to this with the same admirable ethic as you have with every other task you are commissioned with." Hermann nodded. "You're a good man, Gottlieb, and I think Geiszer is too." Another nod, slower this time, and Hermann was dismissed.
"HERRRRRRRMMMS"
"Geiszler. I see you've arrived… promptly."
"Yeah man!"
Hermann was barely through the door but he was already inwardly crying about the mess.
"You were out so I just kinda dumped my stuff… everywhere but like, i'll clean it up later so don't worry about it, yo."
"Wonderful." Hermann sighed. Newton's 'stuff' was literally everywhere. There were things whose function he couldn't even begin to guess at hung, draped, dumped, shoved and crammed in every nook, cranny and corner.
Removing his shoes and putting his keys on a little hook by the door seemed way too intimate with the man- ...child- ...teenager... with Newton watching him, cross-legged a metre away from him. "...why, may I ask, are you sitting on the hallway floor?" He was now taking off his coat and emptying his bag onto the table, separating the items into neat piles that belonged in either the kitchen- milk, bread, eggs, butter- or his bedroom- books, papers, the Newt file he'd still not opened-
Newton was still watching him, staring up at him like a cat pretending he really didn't care that his master had just come home. "I didn't wanna go into any rooms in case you like needed to cover things up or like hide some BDSM porn or something."
Hermann choked, eyes bulging.
Newton grinned. "Yeah man it's always guys like you who've got the kinkiest shit going for you. Gotta judge a book by its cover and you have 'maths geek on the outside, dom!kinks on the inside' written aaaaaaaaaaaaaaall over you."
Ignore him, Hermann, he's just trying to assert some deranged sense of dominance. He adjusted his tie, straightening his cardigan. "Thank you for your appreciation of my personal space. However it hasn't escaped my notice that you were perfectly able to unceremoniously dump your belongings in the living room, so why did you feel unable to sit within it?" He walked around the man sitting in the hallway in attempt to get to said room, but was stopped when two arms grabbed his legs and all but tripped him, face-first into the floor. He stumbled, badly, but prevented breaking his nose with the surprisingly good reflexes he'd appreciated having since being born into a family of four children and as a nerd who practically screamed "bully me."
"Ah- NICE SAVE!"
"NEWT, WHAT ON GOD'S EARTH ARE YOU TRYING TO-"
"Yeah you might not want to go in there for uh… a little bit."
"Oh god- is anything on fire?! What happened? Are there casualities?"
"What? No, chill dude! I just got bored and tried doing a little experiment but.. uh…" Newton was standing now, pulling the startled Hermann to his feet. "Sorry about the grabbing thing. But yeah no you might want to uh not go in there. Possibly ever again, depending on your tolerance with dead animals, bad smells and a new lack of chairs?"
"...What?" Hermann blinked, righting himself. He then scowled and pulled away from the man, heading into the room.
Oh.
Nope.
Abort mission.
He was hit by a wall of odour almost instantly, the urge to gag strong in his stomach. He clawed desperately at his nose and mouth, clamping them shut and falling back into the hallway before his lunch made a sudden reappearance.
"I did tell you not to go in there…" Newton pulled his stupid mouth to one side of his face, pouting slightly.
"Wh-What is that. What did you do?!"
"Oh, I uh, well okay it's quite a funny story but by your face I'm going to say that you probably don't want me to like tell you all of it and you'll probably murder me in a couple of seconds anyway, plus that frowny face is making me think 'funny' isn't in your dictionary so uh... long story really really short, I might have stolen a skunk but didn't want to ruin your fancy table so used a chair as a dissection table but like one wasn't big enough because skunks are actually bigger than you'd imagine them being, right so I had to like sellotape three chairs together but like one of them has a shorter leg, making it kinda rock, slightly and it made me slip and I might possibly have punctured the scent gland."
"You punctured a skunk in my living room."
"Yeaaaahhh. ...sorry?" Newt winced with one side of his face and grinned with the other. "Sorry man, I was just like really bored and when I'm bored I get these really stupid freaking ideas and it's kinda half your fault 'cos like who even keeps wobbly chairs and- okay maybe not 50:50 maybe like 60:30 me you?"
If Hermann wasn't so exasperated, he might've found the expression either hilarious or adorable but no he would not, this was- this was-
Today had been a long day.
"I need a drink."
Newton looked like he'd been hit. Like he'd been expecting being hit. He flinched. Then it was his turn to be at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish blowing bubbles. Hermann had already put on the items of clothing he'd stripped out of moments ago and was halfway out of the door before Newton could close his gaping mouth with a final snap.
He slipped down to the floor again, sliding down the nearby wall and landing with a small bump. He looked like he didn't know how to feel; Hermann wasn't angry? Hermann was angry? More angry than he'd ever seen him? Hermann was going to go drink? Hermann drunk? Hermann wasn't shouting? Was this good? Bad? Ugly? Hermann wasn't telling him off? Hermann wasn't-
"Well? Are you coming or not."
Newt's gape returned when he looked up to see that Hermann was holding the door open expectantly. Before he knew what he was doing, he was jumping up, grabbing his leather jacket and bounding out of the door.
"Soooo…" Newt walked (if you could call his erratic, child-like footfalls walking,) with his hands behind his back. He was practically skipping. The manchild was skipping. No no no Hermann don't look at him you know not to watch him- "Housemates, huh."
"Apparently."
"...are you like- allergic to anything?"
"What?"
"I mean like… the last person I had to share with… I kinda nearly killed 'cos she was like too scared of me to tell me she had a real bad nut allergy and I tried to cook her a meal to make her like me more so I made like chicken satay? Yeah luckily I know how to use an epipen and shit and, y'know I'm hella biology trained so I can do the whole resuscitation/ let's not have this kid die of inflamed lungs shall we so yeh no she's okay now but I don't want to have to go through that again it was kinda traumatising." He paused for a breath. "...allergies?"
"No. Just hayfever."
"Oh. Wait no that sounded like I was disappointed I wasn't disappointed, don't worry I'm not like going to buy you a shit tonne of flowers and like try to kill you through pollen even though that would be pretty hilarious, not going to lie, it's just weird knowing that you have hayfever. I mean hey, look, Hermann's actually a human, not a little tin soldier, heheh."
Hermann nods slightly, raising an eyebrow. He supposes knowing about allergies would be… practical. "...and yourself? Allergy-wise, that is."
"Nah man, though I got kinda sensitive skin so some perfumes or like shower gels irritate me but unless you were planning on rubbing all over me with perfume any time soon I guess neither of us're gonna have a problem."
"No. Well. No. ...Quite."
"Oh My God Hermz are you blushing?" Newt skipped a step so as to fall in line in front of Hermann, walking backwards, his toothy-grin smug. Hermann refused to look down, chin set square and strong.
"Yes, well what with my apparent BDSM preferences in pornography, it can't be too surprising that my imagining 'rubbing you all over in perfume' would 'turn me on', right." Yep. Playing it cool. Definitely. Hermann was pleased when Newt spluttered to a stop, allowing him to get a couple meters ahead and breathe out a shaky breath. Oh god.
"HERMANN, you-you what? You've hidden an amazing side of yourself here, man. I'm liking this devil-may-care Hermann, why can't we have you more often?"
"People say one must break the ice with surprising aspects of oneself, yes? And if we are to be spending significant amounts of time together, I might as well out-play you in an area you assume gives me large amounts of discomfort. However I must assure you, I grew up with three siblings, two of whom were brothers."
"Sie wissen Sie sind einen dreckskerl, richtig?" You know you're a bastard, right?
"More to the point, how did you get the smell to not come through the door?"
"Was? Oi oi, nicht tun ändern das subjekt, backpfeifengesicht."
"In English please, Newton."
"Das stinkt mir! Dösbaddel just play along, man! Sprechen sie deutsch? Sie sind nicht Deutsch? Hallo? Verstehen Sie?" Hermann gave him a side-long eyeroll. Newt pouted and ended up with a quiet " ...What do you mean?"
"When I came into the hallway, I couldn't detect any of the pungence of the living room. Explain."
"Ooooooh yeah no I like researched that for theory three? ...Or was it two, I always get those two mixed up, uh- oh yeah no it was theory two, when I realised that smelling of a biology lab constantly actually kinda sucked in the burgeoning-sexual-awakening kinda way so I set up a like.. door thing which neutralises the most common bad smells… hence-" he wafted his body about for a second, shoving an arm up against Hermann's nose, "despite being in the blast zone at the time of incident, I'm odour-free." His hand was swatted away and he grinned. "Yeah… I kinda used it as a replacement for a shower for a while but yeah no it gets rid of smells with a like ninety something percent success rate but it does nothing for germs and dirt and grease build-up so… that was an unpleasant month of my life."
"I'm sure it was just as unpleasant for your peers too."
"Wow, fick dich in Knie." Go fuck yourself. "Though I admit, it didn't really do much for the whole sex thing either…"
"Delightful."
"If only they'd thought so."
"Why backpfeifengesicht?"
"Because it's a funny word."
"Fishface?"
"I think so? At least that's why my dad told me."
"Yes, Dietreich told me it meant the same… 'Fishface' and 'Fuck you in the knee'. One has to wonder where down the line they became real curses."
"They're better than dummkopf."
"True."
"Hey so, like, how far are we going to walk? I mean we've passed pretty much every bar, pub, family restaurant and TESCOs in town?"
"I do not want to be seen on a social outing with you, Newton. At least not in a place where we could be recognised."
"Huh. And yet we're suddenly on first-name terms?" Newt grinned, bambi-eyes a-sparkling.
Ah. Dammit, he thought he'd get away with the transition with a little more subtlety.
"If you would prefer to be Geiszler, as I would prefer to remain as Gottlieb, then no, we're not on first-name terms. However I speculate you've not thought of me as anything other than 'Hermz' for a while now."
"And you'd be right there, Herrrrrmzz," he purred.
"Newton it remains, then."
"What about Newt?"
"Unthinkable."
"Aw come on, you screamed it earlier~"
"I did nothing of the sort." Either the nights were getting hotter or… he loosened his collar slightly.
"Yep, yep you did, you screamed 'Newt, what on god's earth are you trying to-' before you faceplanted into the floor, which I may or may not have been responsible for."
"Oh. Yes. So I did."
"What, admitting defeat so soon? Was there another time you were screaming my name or somethin- oh my god."
"What."
"Were you sailing?"
"What?"
"Were you full mast?"
"...Let's just end this conversation here shall we."
"Woah woah no dude you can't end a conversation like this like that!"
"What would you rather I do?"
"Deny? Fervently?!"
"What and have you quote Shakespeare at me?" At Newt's blank look, Hermann stopped. "Oh come on, Newton, 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'? Hamlet? Oh you truly are an uncultured barbarian."
"Eh?"
"I have lead a long teenage life, Newton, and one thing I have learnt is that you can deny something for as long as you'd like, but no matter how you do it, it always makes people believe you are hiding something. Hence, we terminate this conversation about my hypothetical sexual attraction towards certain biology students, and we forget this ever happened and move on with our lives."
Before Newt could garble an answer, Hermann turned into a pub he'd spotted from across the road. Newt paused for a moment longer, just to let his brain have a chance to catch up, before sprinting in after the annoyingly long-legged teenager.