Only-child and social-outcast Newt could probably not be blamed for being a lightweight. He'd spent a lot of his formative years with a piano tuner dad and opera singer mum (see: larder full of expensive wines you don't let your child even take a sip from,) and his uni life being incredibly underage. Even with fake id, the people around him didn't like him enough to take him out, or felt way too awkward drinking with babyface Newt lest they be kicked out for influencing a minor. 18year old Newt couldn't pass as 21, let alone 15 year-old Newt. That was almost the number 1 reason for moving to England for doctorate nummer sechs; god bless Britannia and its dodgy legal drinking age. You could literally give 5-16 year olds alcohol as long as you're on private property, and apparently nobody would give a shit. Pass the age of 18 and there're no restrictions on the purchase, possession or consumption. Truly a student's dreamland.
Middle brother and son of a stout German engineering family, Hermann drank Newton under the table. Completely obliterated him. By beer three, Hermann was malleable and Newton was bouncing off of the walls, wanting his new drinking buddy to do the infamous shots he'd heard about-
Bad, bad, bad idea.
This had been possibly the worst idea Hermann had had in his entire life. At half two in the morning, he was stroking Newt's back. This was good. This was very good. He was stroking Newt's back as he puked into a toilet. This was less good. Not very good at all, actually. Also the toilet was spinning and the smell of piss and puke was really not helping and- no, Hermann could control his stomach. He was going to look after Newt and was definitely not going to join him in the bowl. Fresh air was all they needed. Good thing they had a twenty-minute walk to look forwards to. Ahhh alcohol. But also… they exited to the street and… ahhh alcohol… Hermann had never had quite so much bodily contact in his life from someone who wasn't Dieterich, Karla or Bastien. Newt's very-rarely-tied-tie was now very much not tied. His shirt buttons were undone one more than usual and his attempt at stubble was-
Hermann took in deep breath of chilling spring air and sobered up considerably. Then came the dawning realisation that he had seriously been considering making a move on an incredibly drunk teenager in the middle of the night in the middle of Cambridge. He shuddered. He nearly dropped Newt, who was hanging off of him, one arm around his shoulder, half-staggering, half being pulled along- he was about to make a move on himoh god, Hermann this is bad, this is really bad.
"Hermann, this is bad, this is really bad-" is what Newt tried to say the next morning. It came out more like "Ughhhmmn nicht gut gghhh nicht reeeeallly bad ohowowow baaaaad." Hermann pushed him back down onto the bed. He hoped Newt was blind/ hungover enough to realise that this wasn't his bedroom. And that the bed wasn't empty.
"Hey brother, you mind if I ask you something?"
Tendo Choi was introduced to Hermann as a third-year studying for his computer sciences degree, and as someone he was supposed to help mentor. In reality, Tendo was probably intelligent enough to be teaching the course, but lacked the want to act upon that as Hermann and Newt so often displayed. When confronted about why the man didn't aim for much higher goals, Tendo only shrugged and murmured something about being a follower more than a leader; that he needed someone telling him what to do in order to achieve. They never talked about it again. They did however quickly bond after this, sharing late-night escapades in the computer labs that started one evening when both had rewritten the door code, meaning neither could get out and efficiently dead bolting it shut until morning.
They had the kind of relationship where, when asked, close friends couldn't tell you whether they were just 'acquainted' or were hardcore into one another.
"Of course." Hermann continued writing his stream of code, but slowed considerably, letting Tendo know he wasn't unwelcome, that he had his undivided attention...ish.
"You and Geiszler-"
Hermann insta-stopped, hands frozen above the keyboard. Now Tendo really did have his undivided attention. He turned, needing to know what expression Tendo was making. It was perplexed.
"You guys… are you two okay?"
No-not-really-he-dissected-a-skunk-in-my-livingroom-and-yet-I-nearly-made-a-move-on-him-whilst-he-was-considerably-past-the-limit-and-smelled-of-urine-and-stomach-acid- "yes."
"No offence, brother but you guys have been creepily quiet."
"Creepily?"
"...The fact that three days ago you couldn't bare to spend more than three seconds in the same room with each other without insulting/debating/scoffing to the extent that you would nearly pass out from too rapid expulsion of air and not enough intake of it doesn't creep you out? You guys-" Tendo's voice had been rising gradually, but he suddenly took note of this and hushed to a whisper again, casually glancing out from where he'd been crouching behind the computers with Hermann in order to peer into the rest of the room. "You know you've been sitting in the same room as each other for about two hours right?"
"I was aware."
"You were 'aware'? See this is what I'm talking about! The rest of the room's been literally holding their breath since you came in, if they didn't scramble at the sight of you in the door. You two were probably the only two not to care about- being near each other."
"This hardly constitutes as 'creepy', Tendo."
"That'swhat you focus on?! Hermann this isn't healthy! If you two don't argue soon, at least one person in this room's going to explode with anxiety."
Hermann rolled his eyes, leaning back in the wheely chair with a sigh. He then stood, abruptly, and every eye in the room followed him up. He turned, showing he was addressing all of them.
"Newton and I are living together. If we were to argue every time we were in the room together, one of us would have a kitchen knife protruding from our foreheads at this very moment, and neither of us would get anything done so you can cease this ridiculous tendency towards voyeurism and worry about your academic career as opposed to theorising on our relationship. Thank you." He sat back down, shot a pointed 'talk to me on pain of death' at Tendo and continued with his scripting.
The room erupted into silent, frantic looks and the the very fast typing of scores of instant messages. Ahh the wonders of the computer age.
The next morning he had an invite for the LGBT society's next pub crawl, a greeting from the student councillor and various pms on facebook from encouraging family members. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, chucking his phone across the room and receiving a satisfying crunch as it hit the wall.
It was barely five a.m. and he knew it was going to be a long day.
He let himself lie in bed for another ten minutes but was soon retrieving the phone. It had no cracks. See, the day was getting better already.
He swam through the various texts and messages on a previously un-messaged phone to get to Tendo's one-sided conversation.
16:22 [When i said 'do something' i didn't mean confess ur undying love, bro]
16:22 [i mean srsly herm did u rly think that was going to go dwn well?]
16:23 [u told them ur living together nobody lives tofetther man]
16:32 [hey]
16:34 [reply herms or ill think ur dead]
17:44 [u'd better not have turned off ur phone]
21:30 [*sigh*]
23:19 [well at least it won't be so hard confessing ur undying love to him now ;)]
23:21 [please don't kill me]
Hermann allowed himself a small smile. That was true, if he ever felt the inclination (see:if he ever got pissed enough to) he could very well start the conversation with: "You know that time everyone thought we were in a whirlwind love affair? I vote let's go for it."
Snorting, he finished his morning routine (change, brush teeth, eat oatmeal, grab water) and was out the door at six sharp. It was a crisp morning, one where you could smell the petrichor. The flowers were blossoming early this year, it seemed. It was a perfect morning for a run.
He got back after an abnormally long workout and was actually surprised that Newt was awake. He was unsurprisingly gloomy though, and looking as if he could do with a medium-to-large sized vat of coffee. Still panting slightly, he filled the kettle and grabbed breakfasting materials from various cupboards.
"Holy shit. Holy- woah woah woah- Herms- you've- nice butt, man."
Hermann froze, coloured and straightened from where he was removing cereal from a bottom shelf. "Good morning to you, too," he said, decidedly notlooking back in Newt's direction. He had initially started the morning jogging with his brother when he'd been around 13, using hand-me-down sweatpants to feel cool. But as they'd grown and he'd remained slim whilst his brother, annoyingly, 'beefed up', Hermann had been required to buy his own. It had taken a very long time to get used to the nearly-skintight 'jogging pants' that ultimately proved the most comfy. "Be thankful they're not lycra," he managed to say before the silence became too extended to carry on.
There was a spluttering from the other side of the room, which he took as a sign of his win, freeing him to finish making the hot beverage and place it down in front of the blissfully pink-cheeked Newton, who gulped and managed a thankful nod. "You… you own lycra?"
"Oh of course, Newton. A whole plethora of them." He sat in the seat directly opposite of the man, raising an incredibly sardonic eyebrow. "Because I lackallof the body-consciousness usually associated with a gangly teenager who wears argyle socks and cotton shirts. No I do not own lycra. Of course I don't I would never been seen dead in the material."
"Oh. ...Phew."
"If you keep asserting your heterosexuality like that, Newton, one day somebody may just believe you."
"Talking of," Newt said with an excellent segue, that irked Hermann because dammit that would have flustered him, "what's all this about us being together? I thought people assumed, correctly the last time I checked, we couldn't stand one another?"
"Ah."
"That was possibly the most guilty 'ah' i've ever heard in my life. Did you confess feelings for me at some point whilst I wasn't aware?"
"...I think people may have interpreted the… announcement in the computer lab as one of… mutual… as- uhm, as one of love."
"Huh. ...Nobody thought like that when I lived with the other people."
"No, but I highly doubt your living arrangements with them came after significant amounts of time of precursor shouting in varying degrees of insult to retaliation ratio."
"...that's… also true. Is this the longest we've gone without shouting?"
"Possibly."
"Why?"
"Because we're having a not-so-secret love affair?"
"Hermann, can you just be serious for once-"
There was an earth-shattering silence.
"Oh my god- I sound like you."
Hermann blinked, coffee mug halfway to his mouth. "...I…"
"Hermann we've like- we've affected each other."
"..." Hermann carefully placed his mug back on the counter, staring at the still-steaming, ink black liquid. "...by jove," he whispered. "I think you may- no, no no of course not. There's no logic behind it. Why now? After we've fought for so long? Why not when we had to share lab spaces together?"
"...we- uh well, I don't know about you dude but- I mean- I don't solve things in civilised tones, man. And not with you. Especially not with you."
"Have you been- doing anything different?"
"No?"
"...no you have. You've been tiptoeing around me."
"WHAT, No-"
"You've been- you've been being polite to me."
"Now that's just rude-"
"You have. You've- it's been days and you've yet to dissect anything on the table, you've cleaned your area, you've tidied the bathroom after your use of it… you've been being- considerate." Hermann narrowed his eyes. His tone slowed considerably, worry and suspiciousness showing in equal measure. "Why have you been being considerate to me, Newton."
"I-" Newt's eyebrows furrowed, leaning back as Hermann straightened. "No reason, man, do I have to have a reason to be nice to you?"
"Yes, apparently."
"Well I don't, okay? I just- I don't. Now if you'll excuse me i've got rotting corpses to dissect and bathrooms to trash." Newt pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the floor with a harsh squeal. He grabbed his box of chocolate-flavoured-chocolate-filled cereal, his coffee and two of the three newspapers that they shared and retreated to his room with a loud bang of the door. A couple of seconds later, louder-than-usual music made the house shudder.
The rumours died out when the arguments started up again. The universe sighed a collective sigh of relief.
Newt and Hermann did their best to avoid each other at home as much as possible.
Hermann tightened the final screw of his third check. Everything was in its proper place. He placed the screwdriver in its allocated space in the toolbox, closed the lid and hefted the blue-metal box into its cupboard. He cracked his back, feeling more and more like an old man every day. His movements were purposely slow today… everything was to prolong this moment.
This was his final moment. This was when he would find out if months of planning was going to succeed. He sat at his bank of computers and ran the numbers again, checking them for what could possibly be the last time after nearly a whole year of creating, theorising, inputting, running, building-
This was it.
This was going to be the day.
He spun his wheely-chair into the centre of the room, where the large machine lay in wait. Everything was in check. Everything was in place. Everything was- there was nothing stopping him now. This was an idea he'd had since he was a child. Since he'd watched Digimon. Since he'd been attracted to robots and to AI and to computers-
He gulped and pulled the helmet over his head. Attached the spine-shaped instrument to his back. He was going to create a link with a computer. He was going to merge his mind with technology. He was going to perfect Artificial intelligence. He was going to… to… drift within the computer world. Yes, that was it, it would be 'Drifting'. He clenched his eyes shut, his hand hovering over the on switch. He bit his lip. Maybe a countdown would help. 3… 2… 1…
Hermann sighed. Opened his eyes again. He was in his bedroom. The walls were pastel green and bare of ornaments other than bookshelves. A chalkboard took up one wall, his bed another and his desk the third. On said desk were blueprints, equations and every instrument of precision you could imagine. He'd been working so constantly through the day he only now realised that the sun had set and he should have turned to light on to prevent him going as blind as Newton and needing glasses somewhere down the line.
Hermann rubbed his eyes and shrunk into his seat. It wasn't that he was a coward but… he removed the headpiece, slinking to the door. He unlocked the deadbolt (recently installed in order to a) prevent awkward walk-in situations and b) to prevent Newton finding the drift machine and either destroying or using it.) There. Now, if Hermann were to die/fall into a coma/be stuck in a drift shift impossible to leave without outside influence, Newt would have easy access to him.
He bit his lip and stared at the piece of plain paper he'd left, just in case, on his desk. It wouldn't hurt to write some instructions down… no this wasn't a will, it was- insurance.
Right. This was a logical step. He flopped back into the chair and slid the helmet back on.Right right right.3… 2… 1…
"HERMANN FOR THE LAST TIME I SWEAR TO ALL THIS IS HIGH AND MIGHTY ON THIS PLANET IF YOU LEAVE YOUR CHALKY ASS MATHEMATICAL TEXTBOOKS IN THE TOILET AGAIN I WILL- woah woah woah woah what's up with the leg dude?" Newt dropped his tablet on the table and pushed up his glasses. "That is a serious limp, man."
"I slipped. Must have strained it whilst jogging. It'll heal."
"Slipped? Like outside? Do you want me to check it for fractures for you?"
Hermann was about to deny but… he didn't really fancy a trip to the doctor's. He… he had developed a rather irrational fear of going to the doctor's after last night, actually. "If- if that would be okay?"
"Yeah totally man! Uhhhhh-" Newt swept the mountain of his laundry from the sofa and directed Hermann towards it. "Yo you look real pale, dude, are you sure you're okay?"
"Mm. I had a couple of nosebleeds. Yesterday wasn't really my day."
"Aw man, that's rough. Are the nosebleeds like a regular thing or?"
"No, just one-off. Stress-related, I presume."
"...yeah, probably. Okay, uh, either you've gotta roll up your trouser leg or you've gotta take them off?" Newt was shot with Hermann's most withering look. "Okay, we'll make do with rolling, shall we? Awesome."
Hermann might have blushed at the make-do-doctor's touch if it weren't for the fact that he couldn't feel his leg and and also his leg was in excruciating pain in equal parts. Newt's fingers pressed into joints, he rubbed areas of bone, tested muscle… watching for Hermann's reactions to each.
Both of them very quickly knew that something was very, very wrong when neither gave the reactions they desired.
"Hermann, I need you to tell me if you can feel this." Newt's fingers blanched in colour, indicating to Hermann that he was pinching the area, hard. He wanted to lie, he wanted to exaggerate, he wanted to-
He wasn't going to cry-
These weren't tears-
He shook his head.
"And this-" no sooner had Newt touched the area, Hermann had recoiled into himself, trying his utmost not to whimper like the pathetic, self-mutilating child he was. Newt's attention had primarily been at the ankle-area of his leg, assuming that the sprain was just a painful twist but… as the reactions kept repeating, both boys found that the injury went well past Hermann's hip. "Hermann, I need you to tell me what you did so that I can treat it properly okay?" Newt pressed an area around Hermann's hip joint. He passed out.
Newt crumbles the white pill into the bottom of the glass when Hermann goes to use the bathroom. He's been ruminating whether or not he was actually going to do it and, three beers in, a mildly embarrassing giggling fit, two falls off of the barstool and a near-but-not-near-enough kiss, he'd decided; why not. It wouldn't just take Hermann down a peg in "I can drink you under the table" territory, but… maybe he'd loosen up slightly. Maybe he'd actually tell him what really happened to his leg instead of ignoring the question at all possible turns. He swirled the pint with a small smile. This was for fun. This was being helpful. This wasn't malicious. Right.
"So I was thinking," Newt said totally not eyeing the glass suspiciously at all, "you ever done any drugs?"
Hermann frowned as he sat, instinctively looking around him despite knowing it was way too crowded for anyone to have overheard. They practically had to be touching cheeks to hear each other, let alone the guys next to them. Why such a blunt question? Why now? I smell something way too fishy. "My brother and I had a weekend trip to Amsterdam once. Never again."
"Oooooh what happened!"
Hermann downed what was left of his beer and grimaced. "Dietrich had to bail me from jail the next morning after I had turned somebody's car into a semi-automated weapon."
"You-"
"I was responsible for thousands of pounds worth of damage, though luckily nobody was killed."
"No way-"
"I went, and I quote, 'All transformers on that shit.'"
"Oh my god."
"Yes, quiet. And why the sudden and alarming interest in my drug habits? Was it an invitation or the start of another one of your 'I almost killed my last housemate' anecdotes?"
"...I have a sudden feeling like it may possibly be both…"
"...Is- is the room spinning for you or is it just-"
Newt really wasn't trying to be mean or spiteful. He was actually trying to be nice. He- he would never say it to his face, but he respected Hermann, perhaps looked up to him. Hermann's being at Cambridge was the reason Newt was at Cambridge. It was no coincidence that, despite being a Bio student, every spare minute Newt didn't spend in a lab he was supposed to be in was spent in the mathematics department, or the computer labs.
It was almost stalking.
Almost.
Newt had, at first, been disappointed by what he found when he'd moved to England. was not entirely the man he'd been expecting. He'd seen photos, of course, but everyone's photos were shit, right? Newt's own ID card showed him with neatly combed hair and, yes, that was the tell-tale glimmer of braces. So imagine the surprise that Hermann… Hermann actually looked every inch the ghostly-complexioned teen nerd his google image results showed him to be.
However, Newt's worried had almost instantly been cured when he found he could argue… and be argued with. This was a rare phenomenon for Newt. His parents had been the ultra-encouraging sort, and had definitely given up trying to understand his garbled scientific jibberish about a decade ago. Anyone else he'd tried to have decent conversation with either treated him like a child that needed a softening of the voice, or like an alien whose intellect wasn't to be debated.
Hermann did neither. Their constant bickering just… it made his heart pound. If that pounding was caused by aggravation, excitement or something else, he couldn't care less. The only other time he felt like this was when he was on stage, but unless nerdrock came into style sometime soon and he managed to convince some unwilling people into a band, this was the only relief he was going to get.
So, the chance at living with the most interesting creature he'd met in his life? Wonderful.
The reality? Not quite so wonderful.
10 minutes in and he'd already mutilated a skunk in the livingroom; was it any wonder he was tiptoeing around?
And then-
Then he'd woken up in Hermann's bed with no recollection of getting there.
He'd panicked. Ran straight to his room. Checked his body for any sign of- well... anything. His clothes were still on, which was a good sign, and there was no indication that they'd done anything-
So yeah. Double tiptoeing because what if he'd just sleepwalked into Hermann's room? What if, whilst drunk, he'd confessed his stalkery tendencies? What if, by making Hermann angry, by provoking him into one of their arguments, Hermann would reveal something very very very not good about that night?
It may have taken a couple of months to realise but if you watched him, really watched him instead of dismissing him as he'd, and pretty much everyone else had readily done before, Hermann was… he had a jawline that could cut diamonds. A genuine smile that could melt puppies. And, well, his reply to Newt's jokey "Do you even lift, bro" was:
"I find it occasionally necessary to do weight training so as to not injure myself when transporting or fixing heavy machinery such as I do on occasion when helping my father."
And to top it all off, morning runs?
Newt had seen Hermann one morning with slicked back hair, sunglasses and a shirt that was stuck to his chest, the sun glinting majesticallyoff of cheekbones. True, the drab Hermann of usual clothing and posture wasn't anything to look at but damn. Damn him if in those moments he didn't look like a rockstar. Damn him if he didn't look like a 20s mafia hitman. Damn him, damn him to hell because once he'd noticed it was reallyhard not to remember it. Constantly.
And he'd woken up in Hermann's room.
And Hermann was being nice to him.
And Hermann was insinuating all kinds of things.
Did insinuation mean-
Could it mean-
Could he-
Hermann was sitting in a trolley.
He wasn't sure why he was sitting in a trolley, but it was funny, so he laughed. Newt was also laughing, above his head. From this angle, he must've looked ridiculous; squidged into the deep metal basket on wheels, feet poking out. It was ridiculous. It was also funny. He laughed. Newt laughed.
Newt was pivoting on the spot, wheeling Hermann around in a huge circle. It made him feel sick. He was laughing. It was fun. His leg didn't hurt. This was great. He had vague memories of coming out of a dingy hurty place very recently.
The thought was in and out of his mind like the food in his stomach.
He was still giggling when they crashed.
He was still giggling when they came out of the A&E three hours later.
He wasn't giggling when he crashed into his bed.
Please be sharpie please be sharpie please be-
Hermann's bedroom door opened.
Hermann jumped, dropping the t-shirt he'd had lifted up to his chest.
Newt's jaw opened slightly.
"This isn't-"
"You too?"
Hermann frowned. "Me too?"
Newt unbuttoned his shirt. There was a bluey-green shape, surrounded by bright-red skin. Hermann wouldn't squint. His eyes weren'tbad. He didn't need glasses. He nodded as if he knew what was inked on Newt's chest.
Please tell me it's sharpie-
"Dude I showed you mine you have to show me yours."Definitely not an elaborate excuse to get Hermann to take his shirt off-
Hermann ruefully did as he was commanded.
"Annnnnnnnd we have matching tattoos."
"...How much did I drink last night?"
"..." Newt paused to consider Hermann for a second before he took a couple of steps forward, unblurring the image for Hermann. "...quite a bit."
Hermann rolled his eyes back into his head, his head in turn falling back against the chair he was sitting in. He sighed and made other disgruntled sounds. "This is ridiculous."
"Look man I'm sorry this was totally my fault and-" Watching Hermann react… dramatically- like, really theatrically dramatically was- this was scary. Hermann was almost performing this.
"Don't be stupid. There are laws against forceful tattooing of people, I obviously agreed to it, no matter how drunk I was."
"Yeah but-" I drugged you, man. I spiked your drink.
"Furthermore it's not… unattractive."
"I'm assuming you mean-"
"No Newton I'm referring to the word 'Schwanzlutscher' written across my heart, which I am praying is sharpie even if the… rather artfully designed Godzilla is not."
"Pfft."
"Newton Geiszler I swear to all that is holy in this world I will forgive you for all crimes against me, past and present, if you pleasetell me whether the word 'Dicklicker' is written across my chest permanently."
"...is that a promise? Like, you'll actually forgive me?"
Hermann frowned, but at this moment nothing could be worse that the horror of- being branded. Not only being branded but having branded himself. Whilst in the company of Newton, who was definitelyaware of what had happened last night. "Yes."
Newt collected himself for a second, and- "Sorry man, I couldn't resist." He had three things in his pocket right now. A plastic bag containing 2 pills. A letter. A pen.
He pulled out the pen.
"It's sharpie." He grinned. He didn't feel the grin, even when Hermann visibly melted into the chair.
"Oh thank heavens."
"You're not mad about Godzilla?"
"...I doubt very much whether many people will see it, Newton. At least it isn't on my forehead. ThatI would have had a harder time forgiving." He smiled, or as much as he could in the situation. "Is yours- wait- what happened to your arm?!"
Newt burst into a surprised laugh. "You only justnotice?" He waved his arm about. His arm and the fresh white cast that adorned it. "Or should that be 'remember'... man you really were off your head."
The recollection of clean white hallways and concerned faces hit Hermann in the gut. "...we went to hospital."
"Yup. Thankfully I'd already changed your medical history to say your limp was a genetic thing."
"...'thankfully'?"
"Dude you can barely remember the night you were so intoxicated. They thought you might've broken your leg when I broke my arm but I told 'em it was an existing thing. I- I didn't think you wanted to let anyone know about… it."
"...yes." Hermann closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "Yes, no, yes thank you, that was incredibly considerate of you, Newton. Thank you."
"...it's cool man, least I could do."
"And is your arm-"
"Dude seriously I've broken this arm more times than I can count, it'll be healed in like 6 weeks."
Hermann sighed, letting himself relax more.
This really isn't the time, Newt, choose a different time, not now, not now- "When you uhm-" Damn it. "When you want to… if you want to, remember that I'm just- I'm just down the hall if you ever want to tell me anything. I promise I can actually keep my mouth shut when it comes to secrets."
Hermann's heart started pulling, wanting desperately to tell someone- to tell anyone, to tell- he wanted to tell Newton. He really wanted to tell Newton. His eyes went from the man to the heap of metal and cables lying in wait in the corner of the room. Then his eyes went to his leg, then to Newt's cast. Recklessness. Stupidity- Newt would want to try. To experiment.
No. Some things were best kept to themselves. Yes. This would be something nobody could know. "Thank you, Newton."
"That's-"
"May I perhaps add on to my selfish tendencies and request something of you?"
Newt's eyes widened when, barely a seconds after nodding, he was pulled forwards by his belt, till he was standing between Hermann's knees. Hermann rested his forehead on the front of Newt's shirt, almost directly on his belly button. He wrapped his hands around the small of his back.
"Thank you," he whispered. "...but I can't."
Newt flailed a bit, really not having any idea what the fuck was happening and trying to to enjoy it too much because Hermann's voice just cracked and he was pretty sure he was crying and he couldn't do with crying oh god- "it's cool man i'm not going anywhere you've got like all the time in the world to cry about how awesome your godzilla tatt is. Our Godzilla tatts. Jeez, Herm, we have matching tattoos, you don't have to apologize for not telling me something you don't want to tell me i'm not pressuring you i'm just i'm just here okay? I'm here for you. I'm here okay?" At this point he started patting Hermann's head, which was possibly the single strangest thing he'd ever done in his entire goddamn life.
They stayed like this for a couple of minutes, Hermann very much not crying, and Newt very much not stroking his hair and shhing him. Newt was nearly nodding off when he felt something very peculiar- "hey hEY HEY HERMANN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THIS IS A HUG NOT A BUM PAT SITUAT-oohhh oh okay yeah no sure that's cool you can yep you're christening the cast." Hermann had apparently finished his crying session and, to take back the situation, he had to balance the world by doing something dickish. Like patting down all of Newt's pockets in order to locate the sharpie waved at him earlier. And then to turn him around by the belt and sit him in his lap.
"..."
Hermann took the silence as a good sign. He continued.
Newt watched as careful letters appeared on his arm, smiling slightly.
He was less humorous when he read them. "Lutsch meine Eier."
Hermann smiled into his shoulder, having at some point wiped away the tears, leaving only his red-rimmed eyes as evidence. Something was digging into his leg, so he moved it, removed it.
"'Lick my balls'? Du spinnst wohl? Seriously Hermann. At least when I wrote it, it was on your chest! Nobody'll be able to see you chest! Everyone'll ask me what that says."
"And you can tell them it's a glorified penis that some stinkstiefel doodled on you whilst you were getting over the worst hangover of your life."
"They'll recognise your handwriting."
"Not my handwriting." Hermann continued to rest his chin on Newt's shoulder. He closed his eyes. His heart hurt.
"You're a sly fucker aren't you."
"More so than you, at least." Hermann sighed. He tucked the small bag into his pocket. Of course. He- he was angry. He didn't want to ruin anything. But this wasn't something he could ignore. 'Trust issues'. Trust. He- why, why, why- he couldn't just- why couldn't things just-
"You're uhm. Correct me if I'm wrong but uh this lap thing, it's- I mean- shouldn't it be hurting? Like a lot? What with the leg thing and all-"
"I like you, Newton."
"Oh." Oh. Oh god. This was happening now? Now? Oh. Oh y- "Yes. I mean. I do too. Like you. Not me. Though I do like me too-"
"You spiked my drink."
"...oh."
"Trust is something I take incredibly seriously, Newton."
"...yeah."
Hermann breathed Newt in.
He breathed him out.
"You broke my trust."
"...yeah."
"Can you explain your reasoning?"
"I don't... I don't think it would help."
"Was it about the leg?"
"Pa- partly, yes." Newt tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Partly because of the liking thing."
Hermann really didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life he didn't know what he wanted. He would like to run off into the sunset, holding hands. He would like to trust the person he admired and adored. He- he wanted Newt not to have drugged him. Mislead him. Mistreated him.
'Hermann has trust issues-'
"I'm going to guess that the get-out-of-jail-free card… isn't going to count."
'Hermann? Father what did you-'
"No. I think not. Though-"
'-Hermann has trust issues'
"Though?"
There's so much hope in the small voice Hermann nearly cracks. He presses his hand against his face. It's cold. He's always had cold fingers. Cold fingers worked beautifully on bruising skin. On bruising hearts. He wonders what it would be like to hold Newt's hand- does Newt have cold hands? Are his hands warm? He imagines they're warm, another opposite to add to the growing list-
His next breath is shuddery, but he has decided.
"I have a lecture to attend."
Hermann spends the day actively avoiding Newt. Questions about Newt. Things that remind him of Newt. People who remind him of Newt. Everything. He doesn't go the lecture. He goes to bed. He stays in bed. He thinks. He sleeps. He thinks of Newt.
Newt knocks on Hermann's door only twice during Hermann's 4-day shut in. The first is on the evening of the first day. He leaves a cheese toastie outside his door. It's still there in the morning. The second time he leaves food, he doesn't knock. He just stands. He rests his forehead against the door. He waits. He leaves the sandwich on the floor. This time, when he goes to check, the plate has been cleared away. He hopes this means Hermann ate. He leaves food out 3 times a day for 3 days, but the food is always there when he comes back. He doesn't see Hermann leave the house, though his lecturers inform him he has been attending, according to the register. He wonders when Hermann started faking his attendance. Probably when Newton drugged him against his will slash knowledge.
The second time he knocks, he waits for a couple of minutes, but hears nothing in reply.
"Yo? Hermann? You still in there? Oh wait huh I hadn't considered that you might not actually be in there huh you could literally have gone anywhere you could actually be in Hong Kong or something right now and I'd be talking to a door and leaving food in front of an empty room, wow that's actually pretty sad isn't it. Shit. Now I want to come in but at the same time no because you're probably still in there knowing you which is worse because you haven't eaten in like 3 days man and I'm worried okay I'm-" he pauses. His voice wobbles. He clears his throat. "I'm so sorry, Hermann. I need to know if you're still around okay? I don't- I can't open this door because i'm scared of what I'm going to find if I open it and- I found a letter in your room the other day. On that day. When I was in your room- I- it had my name on it and I'm sorry I shouldn't have taken it but seriously who even writes letters anymore unless it's- well it's either a love letter or- and- I just hoped it would be a…" deep breaths- "I just hoped it would be a love letter because you know me ever the romantic so in love with myself that I steal other people's shit because I think it might be a letter detailing how you love my smile or my voice or my fucking freckles or some shitty poem or something but it wasn't Hermann and I don't want to open this door so please, please please man please just don't be unconscious on the floor right now, please okay I need, I reallyneed you not to be lying de- d-"
When Newt finds Hermann, bloody nosed and unconscious on the floor of their house, his heart and stomach drop a thousand miles.
Hermann had drifted again.
Again, again-even after the first time he'd done so he'd practically lost the use of one leg.
Before he knew it, he was cradling Hermann in his lap, shaking the man conscious. He'd removed the instrument attached to Hermann's head, as was instructed to him in the… in the letter.
This was what it was warning him about.
Hermann hadn't expected to survive the last time he'd done this…this 'drifting' thing.
He hadn't expected to live.
He'd written a suici- no- no it wasn't suicide. He was a scientist. This was an experiment. He'd written a- hypothesis. A theory. He'd written-
They don't talk for 5 years.
When Hermann's 24, the Kaiju break through the 're communicating within minutes of it happening. Both of them had been waiting for something like this. Something to push them together. They talk about drifting. About fighting back.
2 Years more and the Jaeger programme is up and running.
When Newton sees Hermann for the first time in the flesh (he'd watched any podcast or tedtalk or live lecture he could because yes he's still a creepy stalker,) since the day he'd dropped out of Cambridge, he's nearly sick. The limp is so much worse. So much obviously worse it's painful to just watch. It's painful to- it must hurt so much. Newton had been checking Hermann's medical records monthly for the last half a decade. Hermann had not once been to the doctor's, not for a check-up, not for a scan not for- anything. Not even for a cold. No painkillers. No drugs.
No drugs.
Hermann hadn't been taking drugs.
He didn't trust doctors giving him drugs.
Newton wanted to be sick.
Hermann watched Newton watch him. Watched him limp, watch him stagger. Watch him suffer. Hermann wouldn't tell him how bad it had been getting. How he refused to take painkillers. He would lie. He would pretend. He couldn't harm Newton any more than he already had. He pretending-to-be-subtly took out a small orange bottle of pills. He'd picked them up somewhere along the line; perhaps the second time he went to visit his mother. She wanted to know what had happened. He told her, and anyone who asked, he'd fallen down the stairs. Landed wrong. That it was a spine thing, not a bone-break thing. He was only kind-of lying. He had fallen down the stairs, but it had been becauseof the problem not the cause of it.
Newt stared at the orange bottle. The white pills. The throat that swallowed them. He watched the bottle disappear back into a tweed-lined pocket.
He turned around as casually as he could.
His tears dripped into the 10% Industrial Methylated Spirits solution. He dripped into the Kaiju-tank. He brought the cleanest labcoat to his face, soaking it. He wouldn't turn around.
He listened as the footstep-cane tap-thud combo made its way to the other side of the room. Then the instantly recognisable clack of chalk to blackboard.
Fuck.
He wasn't sobbing, this was manly tears. Many manly tears wracking his body like a bear. Yeah. This was like a bear attack. A kaiju attack. Manly manly tears. Like a jaeger. Jaeger sobbing. Manly sobbing. Sobbing. Okay he was sobbing. Kind of a lot. Kind of loud. Loud enough to not hear the clack give way to tap-thud-tap-
Hug.
They started arguing again. The universe sighed a collective sigh of relief.
When Hermann came into the lab one morning, Newt was sitting on top of his desk, back to him, apparently staring at the wall of equations.
"I would very much appreciate if you removed your posterior from my workspace, Dr. Geiszer."
"Mornin' to you too, Hermz."
"Dr. Gottlieb whilst we are at work, Geiszler."
"Dude like literally everyone knows we're a thing after the Mako inciden-"
"It is still workplace etiquette, Doctor," Hermann cut in, definitely not reddening at the remembrance of the very public, very loud out-ing. "No matter what incidents regarding a drunken Miss Mori are involved." He swatted the man-child (god it had been seven years and he was still referring to him as a man-child, this really needed to change-) as he approached, then suavely segued from swat to hair-ruffle. He stood behind Newt, trying to ascertain what he was looking at so intently.
"Well then Dr. Gottlieb." He said, trying to sound as faux-British-don as he could, "I guess it's also not workplace etiquette to hand you these-" he leant back against Hermann and all but shoved a bouquet of flowers in his face.
"Wha-"
"Before you scoff, it's not a like romantic gesture or anythi-okay maybe it's kinda romantic but it's- there's a point to this okay, just hear me out. And like, smell them too-"
Hermann frowned but nodded, taking the flowers. They were pure-white narcissus, their bells dainty and facing downwards. Aptly named after the young man who fell in love with his reflection. They also meant-
"'Stay as sweet as you are', yes, I know, sue me I was a teenager and I thought it was poetic how they could symbolise your sweetness and my overwhelming ego issues okay."
"Teenager?"
"Yeha okay I'm getting to that bit okay calm your eyebrows I swear one of these days you'll raise and lower them so much they just fall off- and I said smell them goddamit!"
"Any time before the inevitable Kaiju apocalypse, Newton." He smelled them. He smelled them? He paused. He could smell them. They were- they smelt divine. Sweet, honey-like-
Newt pouted, but it didn't last long because- "HA YOU CALLED ME NEWTON IN THE WORKPLACE HA-!" He was silenced by a whack on the head.
Newton grinned. "I cloned you synthetically modified, pollenless-ish-kinda flowers because of your hay fever. Happy-I-think-it's-tuesday-and-also-we-haven't-been-turned-into-alien-fodder-yet!"
"How did you know I had hay fever?"
"...I think I just asked you one time. Probably. I was potentially not trying to kill you with allergy stuff. Yeah, I think that was it. And then yeah. The coolest part is that I designed them so that they can still be eco-friendly and stuff because the whole cloning living things thing never goes well once you take out natural reproduction so yeah they can still carry on with the pollen-to-stigma-sex thing it's just I modified the pollen so that it's better for humans and yeah- that's doctorate nummer sieben when y'know I have time to write it up and shit, possibly after I do the whole saving the world from aliens things- hum do you think the world is more interested in human-friendly pollen or the ridding of human-unfriendly aliens this is an incredible question of anthropology- I need to send around a questionnaire like stat-"
Hermann carefully laid down the flowers, arranging them so as to not damage any of the delicate, snowy white petals. Doing this to the best of his ability, his attentions returned to the still rambling Newt.
He pulled the stubbly chin up to his with hands on either side of his mouth and kissed him.
"Thaaaaaaaat was totally notworkplace etiquette, Dr. Gottlieb."
"I have a profound dislike for you Newton, I hope you realise this."
Newton grinned and kissed him on his adam's apple. "'Profound dislike'? At this rate, one day you might even lower yourself to call me your housemate!"
"Yes, well, 'housemates' was always a… tenuous term."
"You suck, you know that?"
"Yes well, maybe later."
Shit.