Disclaimer: I don't own Pacific Rim or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This is my first Pacific Rim story, so I am pretty much testing the waters. I have not yet had the pleasure of reading/watching any other source material other than the movie itself. So, in respect to that, this story is based on the material we have been given during the movie and the movie alone.

Warnings: This story is meant to fit in post-movie. *Contains: adult language, adult content, sexual content, movie spoilers, smut and more!

Kaiju Goo and Personal Space Bubbles

Chapter Three

He made a sound, a pitching not-quite whimper (thank you very much) in the back of his throat, when he turned around just in time to see Hermann exit the storage room in a billow of steam and far too much naked skin.

And, to make matters worse, (he did a double take just to be sure) but underneath a pair of truly heinous grand-dad underoos, the man was sporting a stiffy of generous proportions. His fingers twitched at his sides, jaw somewhere on the floor at his feet as he realized he was still gawping.

Hermann's pupils were dilated, that was what he noticed first – okay, second, he was human, so sue him. The tendons in his neck were standing out, straining, as a blanket of red flushed across his skin, trickling down from cheek to chest, kissing the man's pale skin like a full body blush that only deepened the longer the moment stretched.

He couldn't help but drink him in. The man was all lean lines and graceful arcs, thin and skinny like he'd expected, but not without tone, not without the muscle some might assume he lacked considering the large shirts and ill-fitting sweaters Hermann seemed to prefer. He had a wiry sort of build, uneven in the arms where the muscle had built up – dominant where he wielded his cane. But it only served to make him look that much more enticing, alluring even.

And oh shit, were those freckles on his breast bone?

Christ, he was such a goner.

But the man didn't even seem to notice. Not him, the nakedness, none of it. Instead, he was looking around the lab with a strangely pleased expression, the faint upturn of his lips benevolent and indulgent as he squinted, trying to make out the equations on the blackboard. The hand holding his cane quivered, vibrating in place like some naughty child in the middle of a sugar rush.

"Hermann? Man? You okay?"

It was only when the man turned that he noticed his leg. And in spite of the panic, in spite of everything else that was going on, something in him just kinda stilled. Guilt, of all things, rippled through him as he took it in, knowing it was wrong, knowing that it was somehow taking advantage even though Hermann seemed to be offering the sight freely. But he knew better, because despite having known each other for years, he'd never seen the man's leg. In fact, Hermann coveted the idea that he even had a problem jealously. He never talked about it, never ever mentioned it. He didn't even know how it had happened, if it was an accident or something he'd been born with, reversible or permanent.

Not until the drift anyway.

It was only the length of time they'd worked together, and, well, the obvious that had enabled him to put two and two together. He knew how the man moved on both the bad days and the good. He could recognize the furtive bob of the Hermann's throat when he finally gave into the pain and shook out a couple of pills from the bottle he kept in the very back of his drawer. They were hidden in an old glasses case, disguised, like the entire thing was something shameful, something that didn't deserve to see the light of day.

Honestly, he'd stayed out of it, respecting the man too much to ever bring it up or even pry when Hermann's limp turned into a hobble. Or when tension ticked in the side of his jaw, well on the way to giving himself a headache whenever he pushed himself too hard. Maybe he should have said something. Maybe Hermann was even waiting for it. But he never had.

Only now, he couldn't seem to stop himself from looking.

Because it was ugly.

But it was ugly and strangely beautiful all at the same time. And damn him to hell, if that didn't sound like some sort of metaphor.

The man's leg was a of mess of gossamer pale set against a knotted length of scar tissue that spanned from his upper thigh to well past his knee. It was thick and twisted, dotted with splotches of red and white – indications of both old and new incisions – like a mess of flowers in various stages of bloom.

Or maybe it was because it was just Hermann.

Either way, he figured he was equally fucked.

He nearly tripped over his feet as he took a quick step towards his lab partner, skidding on a patch of goo before his brain thought better of it. Something made him stop. He wasn't sure what, but whatever it was had his internal alarm bells screaming.

Survivalist behaviour. A default mechanism meant to ensure a species-

The phone went slack in his hand as Hermann pivoted, using his cane like a rudder as he wheeled around to face him. And the wrongness of it hit him like a hangover on a Monday morning. Because his movements were too easy, far too loose for someone who'd spent half of every day leaning on his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

In fact, if he didn't know any better, it was almost like the dude couldn't even feel his leg. Perhaps the stuff had some sort of bonus side effect, other than, well - general creepiness. If he were a betting man (which he isn't, have you seen the economy lately?) he would guess there was something in the goop that acted as an analgesic or at least a numbing agent. He hadn't seen Hermann move this freely in years.

Jesus, Hannibal would have had a field day if he hadn't been turned into Kaiju kibble (which was still equal parts funny and horrifying, thank you very much). Just imagining the look on the man's face was priceless enough. To think that, underneath all the fake gimmicks, all the 'add 50 years to your life or penis-size' bone powder junk, they'd actually missed out on something real.

Hell, this could have world-wide implications. If they could figure out how synthesize it, it could revolutionize the whole concept of pain management. He'd be lying if he said the scientist in him wasn't piqued.

But Hermann, for his part, just stared bemusedly in his general direction. His head slightly cocked, like he'd never actually seen him before as he stood there, wavering in place. Other than that, the man was just kinda drip-drying across the metal floor. He tried not to stare, really, he did. He completely failed, obviously, but hey, at least he tried.

The man's skin was flushed pink, doing that red-glowy thing skin tends to do after a good old fashioned scrubbing. The man's hair, almost indecently ruffled, was standing up in wet spikes, adding a surprising amount of character to that stupid bowl-cut some barber had the gall to call a style.

All in all, he was sold. The man had utterly no business being as ridiculously attractive as he was, and Christ he was so done.

He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to force himself to focus. But when he mashed the lenses back on his face, he actually noticed something. The man's expression was loose, easy and fluidic in a way that almost reminded him of-

"Dude, are you high?!" he blurted, caught between hysteria and laughter as his brain tried to do a million things at once, including eating his own words, because honestly, he was pretty sure, sometime in the last decade, he'd told Hermann to just go get baked.

Hermann's smile only grew wider.

He dropped the phone.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – The next chapter should be up in a few days.