"Did you… feel anything?" Newton asked carefully the next day over lunch.
Because it had taken this long for him to gather the courage to pose the question. The morning had been filled with getting up, grumbling his way into the bathroom, swallowing his prescriptions, getting awkwardly dressed – declining Hermann's help – and having his routine check.
Gottlieb had accompanied him to the infirmary, scowling at the nurse who had given him a quizzical look. The doctor hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow. He had simply probed the wound, checked blood pressure and pupil reaction, then told Newton to stay off the pain meds as much as possible.
Lunch was a burger in the lab, brought to him by his assistant, and eating it one handed. He was a pro at that. He had dissected Kaiju parts and had lunch at the same time. He was a well of talents.
Now he sat at Gottlieb's desk, had cleared an area of print-outs, papers, tablets and whatnot, and he had even spread a napkin on it. Yes, he was a thoughtful lab partner.
Hermann had looked balefully at the food, but he hadn't told him to eat it somewhere else. The minions were mostly at lunch and whoever was still there, they weren't anywhere close. Everyone working under or with the two scientists, the heads of the research division, had quickly learned several things.
* Don't spread biologicals in Dr. Gottlieb's area of the shared lab space. Looks can kill. Really.
* Don't intervene in an argument between Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb. No. Never! You won't survive it.
* Don't complain about such argument to the Marshall. Herc Hansen will just give you a look and tell you to suck it up.
* Don't try to downplay the role of the neuro-biologist in the whole Thwarted Kaiju Apocalypse in front of Dr. Gottlieb to gain brownie points, because someone mistakenly interprets their bickering as animosity. You won't get brownie points. You won't get a pat on the head. If you're lucky, you get a paper stating you might be better off teaching at a university of your choice. If you're very, very unlucky… No, don't ask what happens then. Dr. Gottlieb can hold a grudge for a very long time.
* Don't interpret the relationship between the two men. Ever! Never, ever! Whatever it is, it is their private matter.
* Don't interrupt lunch unless the Breach reopens, especially when Dr. Gottlieb allows Dr. Geiszler to eat greasy food on his desk.
Newton knew there was a lot of speculation about them, what the Drift had done to them, how they behaved with each other. He found some theories highly amusing, some downright interesting. He had fun hacking into the email exchanged. Those who had dropped a few remarks that no one would want to touch Hermann with a ten foot pole had been put under close scrutiny.
"You really think they are the first?" Hermann had remarked one evening in the lab as he had watched Newton scowl at the words on the screen.
"What? Why would no one want to touch you?" he had snapped. "I want to touch you. I like touching you. And you have a sexy brain, Herm!"
That had been close to a love declaration at the time and Gottlieb had flushed in such an adorable way, brow scrunching up, trying to decide whether to yell or ignore the comment, Newton had wanted to just hug the man.
He hadn't.
Right now Hermann was silent for a long, long time. His face was almost closed off, his eyes fixed on Newton in an unnerving manner.
"Okay, forget I asked," the biologist muttered, picking at his chips.
"I felt it," Gottlieb suddenly said, just as he was about to turn away, maybe hide in the specimen storage area. "Not your injury, or I would have been here sooner. But I felt something amiss. Not as intensely as you. You are the more… affected and always will be."
"Oh great, thanks."
"I felt something was not there, like a hole. You weren't around to constantly pester me." The narrow features softened. "And this hole bothered me."
"Bothered…" Newton echoed.
"I might have had a few moments here or there," Hermann said, clearly uncomfortable, "where I… zoned out a little."
"Uh."
"And I might have felt… alone in the evenings. Without someone to cling to me like a limpet."
Newton grimaced. "Yeah, yeah, we all know you love me. And I love you, too. Limpet," he grumbled.
But inside he was cheering and dancing and grinning madly.
From Hermann's expression, which was still uncharacteristically soft, he was very much aware of it. The warm waves between them were back in full strength, surrounding Newton's slightly too stressed mind with a safety net he had dearly missed.
x X XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX xx X
For a week they weren't apart at night. Work was as usual, in their shared lab space, though Newton was still prohibited from wielding any kind of instrument, from dissecting Kaiju bits and pieces, and he hated that he couldn't even type. One hand was way too slow for his brain, which was, as usual, trying to overtake its own thoughts.
And winning, most of the time.
Fuck.
Hermann snapped at him whenever Newton fumbled with whatever. He was trying to prove that he could very well contribute, even with one functional arm. His minions winced now and then when something slipped and broke. He shooed away their helpful hands and they soon retreated to a safer distance.
Hermann had no such qualms, yelling at him whenever he was interrupted by things dropping onto the floor.
He was getting better. He simply had to work on his technique.
x X XX xx X
The connection between them grew in strength. Not in any way that Newton would call negative. He felt more aware of his partner. He felt small surges from him sometimes, which Newton counted as a huge win. He was finally getting better at this thing.
They bickered in the lab. They bickered over lab space usage. They bickered over whatever came to mind.
And Newton felt more and more like he wanted to end those arguments with a kiss. Just to see how Hermann would react.
Now and then he caught the flustered look from the man in question.
Being together in bed, touching, Newt had started to touch back. A hand sliding over Hermann's waist, underneath the pajama top, resting against the warm skin underneath. Gottlieb had never protested. There had never been any talk about early morning hard-ons, there had never been any kind of talk about any kind of reaction to the touch, because Newton felt too relaxed, too grounded, and he was sorting through too many feelings.
It was like a growing wave, heading their way, and Newton just knew something would have to give soon.
x X XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX xx X
"I like the hair," Newton remarked a few nights later, gazing thoughtfully at the dark hair in question, longer than before, neatly combed to one side.
Very accurate.
Very Hermann.
He ran his fingers over the soft strands. Felt them stick up. He grinned.
"Is that product, Herm?" he teased.
It got him a grumble and a hand batting at his fingers. Newton rolled into Gottlieb's side, face mashed against the pale neck. His glasses were on the table, carefully folded.
This morning the sling had come off and the stitches had been removed. He still felt sore, but it was bearable. Hermann kept frowning at him, but the anger was missing. He also insisted to see the wounds every day, to change the bandages, to help with the showers.
Damn, those times had been… different.
Something had changed.
Again.
And it wasn't really bad, in Newton's opinion. Since Hermann had yet to voice his protests or grumble about it in any other way, he seemed cool with it.
A hand ended up in his hair. His hair with product. He was a man with style.
"You are not," Hermann muttered, though not unkindly, tugging at the dark strands.
It should be weird to have some thoughts drift over; it wasn't. And, ouch.
Two Kaiju Drifts had rewired his brain, had probably fried more than a few neurons, and Drifting with a Kaiju and Hermann had permanently seared something into his brain that hadn't been there before.
He wanted this. He needed this. They both did. It was essential for them to be this close, like recharging after a long day.
Acceptance had finally settled in. Newton knew he couldn't change anything. This was what he had become; this was what he had to work with. They could stand to be apart, but it wasn't always a pleasant experience.
At least Newton wasn't crying into his pillow. Not anymore. And hadn't that been embarrassing?
No, they could work with what they had, as long as the recharge was like this. Close, as close as they could be, touching and caressing and just feeling.
Only a few people understood what this really was. That it was Hermann Gottlieb who Newton needed. Fastidious, stick-up-his-ass, repressed, anal Gottlieb. Well, Q did understand. A lot. And James. They were that close and then some. But James Bond was a wet dream, a pilot, a man of action, and no one had any doubt that Q could be physically attracted to the man. And Q wasn't that bad looking either, and he worked out, was a pilot.
Hermann was… a recluse, a math genius, the man who had the Jaeger programming, who found comfort in numbers, in codes, could live in his lab with no company for pleasure. The very idea of Gottlieb being such a gentle, tactile, loving presence would be an alien notion.
It was a fact, though. A proven, solid fact.
And Newton loved it; loved him. Another solid fact that had crept up on him and stayed there. It had taken a while for him to sift through the emotions he had been bombarded with, to make sense of so much information that had intermingled with the Kaiju stuff and his own, hyperactive mind.
There were feelings.
Suppressed and now expressed. In his own way. Always in his own way.
Actually, over years.
No, Hermann hadn't minded being there for Newton, not after the neural handshake, not after seeing the best and the worst of Newton Geiszler in a nutshell – and then some. He hadn't really fought the closeness, hadn't been appalled.
It had simply taken a while for Newton to understand the reasons.
Currently, Hermann was reading with a tablet, a new experience, made necessary since he usually only had one free hand to hold a book. The other hand had been monopolized by Newt. After braining him with a tomb twice, Gottlieb had agreed that it wasn't a good idea to try it one-handed.
Give and take.
They weren't a hive, though they weren't pack either. Or a flock. Or a pride. Newton had teased his colleague endlessly with the possibilities. It had driven Hermann up the wall on one side and down the other.
That hadn't changed.
It never would.
Newton wrapped his fingers around the wrist of the hand holding the tablet, pushing it to lay on the mattress. Hermann let him. His eyes were deep and dark and open.
So very open.
Sometimes, the lack of shields and masks still surprised Newt. That absolute trust. That nothing was between them anymore. He had seen it all and he knew Hermann knew, so slowly, like one layer after another, the masks had come down when they were alone.
And Newton had discovered his lab partner had a wonderful smile if he wanted to. He could laugh. He did laugh.
It had floored him a little and maybe even scared Hermann back then.
They were still discovering so many aspects of their connected minds, how deep it went, how strong it was, how needy both of them were. Hermann had written endless pages on the subject, on what they had encountered within the Kaiju mind, and the scientific world was lapping it up.
They wouldn't be guinea pigs, though.
Never.
The scientific world would just have to live with that. Suck it up, Newt thought darkly.
Hermann let go of the tablet and slipped the hand underneath the black t-shirt Newton was wearing, as always with a Kaiju print on them. He had them all. The whole set. He loved them.
Cool fingers drifted over warm skin, found the pattern of his tattoos on his body without seeing them. He followed the rising waves, the blue with their brighter crests.
Tactile. So much more tactile. Hermann more so than Newton, who had never known personal boundaries or accepted limitations.
"Of course not," was the murmur. "That wouldn't be you."
Newton simply lapped it up. Hermann gave it with a casualness that floored him sometimes. And he always knew when it was needed, when stress relief was in order.
Two weeks apart and look what happens, he thought. Here they were, seeking comfort, work be damned.
They. Yes, both of them. Newton had thought he would be the only one to suffer, but he felt Hermann's need just as keenly.
This was what the Kaiju Drift had done to them. Connected them, closer than James and Q were, closer than anyone could ever be. Needy of reassurance in form of physical contact.
Hermann dragged blunt nails lightly over Newton's ribs, making him shiver. He closed his eyes.
He felt something between them rise, like a tidal wave that would swallow him and sweep him away. It had been building all week, demanding, wanting an outlet.
He didn't fight it.
He let it roll over him and take him down, grab him, spit him out again.
It had happened before, that spike, that strange awareness coming closer and closer, coming from Hermann. Something was happening within the other man, something Newt was waiting for.
The remaining echoes lapped around him, seeking comfort, seeking him.
Not even two weeks apart and they were back to square one. Well, shit. They had to work on that.
"No," Hermann murmured. "We are better than that."
"Touch starved isn't better," he muttered into the damp skin.
"A small price to pay for what we did. We could be dead. Or blabbering, salivating vegetables."
Newton huffed a laugh, then pushed himself up with his good arm to look into the dark eyes. Humor. There were sparks of humor.
He loved those sparks.
They made him smile in return.
"At least I'd be a good-looking vegetable."
"That is debatable."
Long fingers, pale against his more tanned face, stroked over his stubble.
Newton knew that in Hermann's life, closeness had never been favored. He had had siblings – he was the third out of four children – but there had been no touching. No love. It had been all about success and reaching one's full potential, not being a child. He had been a genius and he had always been treated like an adult. Newton had been shocked to finally understand that in the Drift, though it had taken a while for him to work through everything that he had been shown about his colleague.
His own parents, artists both of them, had been more liberal in dousing him with hugs and kisses. Newton had lived out his wild side, had been a child, had read comics and manga, had watched monster movies, had been a fan of so many things.
And he had had friends.
Hermann… not so much. Awkward encounters. The girls had giggled and called him a geek. An adorable little guy.
The guys hadn't really wanted to get to know him.
Hermann had been the child genius, thirteen, teaching abstract math to a class full of people almost twice his age, and they hadn't really wanted to get to know him. He had never been allowed to be a child, but he hadn't been treated like a grown-up either. He had been a freak. Sure, he had been a genius, but people only wanted to pick his brain, not be his friend.
So Hermann had turned to applied sciences, had turned to numbers, had turned to science in general. And he had turned his back on social human interaction.
Some disjointed thoughts bounced around Newton's head. How had he thought to make it work with Vanessa? Probably not at all. Marriage on paper, good for both their careers. Keeps the parents' complaints about his solitary life at a minimum.
"Herm?"
"Don't call me that."
Knee-jerk reaction. Newton loved it. He wanted it. He wanted…
The surge was there, building again, waiting. This was more than a few separation echoes. Spent bouncing around the lab like a rubber ball, all lost and alone.
Waiting.
Like a pining puppy.
Hermann's thumb brushed over his lower lip, the pale face so serious, so intent, full concentration, but still hesitant in a way Newton found endearing.
"You saw everything," Gottlieb said softly.
No question, just a fact.
The tension between them was almost palpable. It was a good tension, like on the verge of a breakthrough. It was that rush of adrenaline before the Eureka moment.
"Yeah."
Not a virgin. Not really. But also not the most sexual of beings. Hermann Gottlieb had known the theory about sex and he had decided to go about it the way he approached everything. He tried it. Twice. Once with a woman, once with a man. Empirical evidence had suggested that sex was a messy encounter that yielded no results for Hermann. It was pleasure, yes, but nothing he would chase after or needed.
He had never needed another human being, a warm body with him. He had never sought companionship.
Just those two encounters.
Like a scientific trial. Analytical and detached, not feeling anything but curiosity.
And sex had been classified as… secondary. No, even less than that. Something that wasn't needed. Something he had tried and not found worth repeating. He wasn't asexual, no. Hermann also wasn't someone to just throw himself into a relationship without further investigation, and in the past decades he had never found reason for such an investigation.
Yes, there had been a few advances, but he had simply ignored them until they had gone away.
Newton had tried sex. Several times. Both genders. It had been pleasurable. More than that on occasion. With more than one person once or twice, too. Yeah, he was a scientist and he was experimental. He liked sex. He enjoyed the physical aspect, but there had never been a relationship. Not for long anyway. A few dates, dinners, movies, that was it.
Hermann had seen those memories. And Newton wondered what he had made of them.
He wet his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed over Hermann's finger. The dark eyes were incredibly intense. Brown. Dark, dark brown. Contrasting to the green of Newton's, looking, searching, quizzical.
The thumb traced his lower lip, then the slender but strong hand cupped his cheek.
Newton leaned into that contact, then let Hermann gently guide him down. Let him determine the pace.
It was a close-mouthed contact, thin, pale lips dry underneath his own chapped ones. So much more than the affectionate kisses of before. So much.
Newton opened his own, probing, careful, mind open and clear with his intent. They might not be telepathic, but the connection was almost empathic in some areas.
Hermann reacted.
Slowly, but with accuracy and determination. And then the kiss deepened, became more intimate, became… intense. Just lip contact and it was intense.
Newt closed his eyes, leaning over the other man, felt an arm around his waist, the hand on his face, and he almost whimpered with the sensation of… rightness.
He kissed. Just kissed. Fingers were now in his hair, carding through the longish strands, and it felt nice.
The kiss ended slowly and Newton pulled away.
When they separated, Hermann looked positively flushed. A bit confused, too. Adorably confused. He gazed at Newton like he was looking for answers to questions he hadn't really formed yet.
"Now I know how to blow that brilliant brain of yours," Newton laughed breathlessly.
His mind immediately went off on a tangent. Oh, there was more he wanted to blow. Not just the brain. The brain was sexy, but the rest of the body…
Newton pulled the emergency break, getting way, way ahead of himself. They had just started and maybe he was touch-dependent and probably sex-starved, but Hermann wasn't him. Hermann was… Hermann.
Slow. Take it slow. It had served them so well up to this point and Newton didn't want to jinx it.
Slow…
I am! I am slow! Gawd, any slower and I'm going backwards!
You are currently far from that.
The twist to those now reddened lips was almost a smile. In someone's book of smiles anyway. Newton decided it was in his and leaned down again, brushing their lips together.
And winced.
"Your arm," Hermann murmured.
"'S fine…"
Gottlieb cupped his cheek, made him look at him. "Lay back."
"Herm…"
"Lay back. My leg is fine."
Mind-reader. Fucking mind-reader.
But he did as Hermann said and it was just as good.
It was the best make-out session in his whole life, including that hot jock in college.
Huh. He was comparing Dr. Hermann Gottlieb to Jake Wissner, hot sports student who he had fumbled with under the bleachers once. Huh indeed.
There were kisses and there was touching, there was warm skin under his hands. Hermann wasn't the first man he touched, but for the first time it wasn't just about physical aspects alone. It wasn't just sex. It was exploration, getting to know the other.
"Okay?" he asked, almost holding his breath.
Hermann scowled down at him. "Are you seriously asking me if it is okay for you to kiss me?"
"Uh, yes?"
"After the Drift? After what we keep sensing of each other? After the past months where you spent every night in my bed. With decidedly less clothes lately?"
"Uhm. Yes?"
"After I told you to lay back and kissed you?"
"Kinda?"
"I think I take back my observation about no loss of cognitive brain functions," was the dry reply.
"I'm serious, Hermann. Are you okay with it?"
"Do you really believe I wouldn't voice my objections?"
Newton managed a laugh. "No. Not you. You always voice everything."
The slender fingers were back on his cheek, the thumb brushing over his clean-shaven skin.
"I'm not fragile. I'm not to be bullied into anything. I wouldn't meekly roll on my back and let you have your wicked way with me, Dr. Geiszler."
"No?" Newt tried not to make it sound like he was disappointed, but he failed.
It got him a scathing look. "I like this," Hermann finally said, features softening.
It always took years off him.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes, Dr. Geiszler."
"And you like me?"
"And I like you."
"Like me like me?"
"What are we? Pre-schoolers on our first date?"
Newton smirked. "This isn't even a real date. But you like me." He almost sounded awed. "Cool." And he was grinning like a loon.
There was a small smile fighting its way onto Hermann's lips, then the stroking fingers were on Newton's neck, trailing along the collar of his t-shirt.
"You are a damn tease," he managed.
"Touch grounds you. Touch evens out the surges. Touch makes you think straight," Gottlieb listed.
"Not this kind of touch!" he groaned.
The fingers slid into his hair, like always, and Newton exhaled sharply.
Yeah, he felt more grounded. A lot more grounded and in control of his faculties, though right now there was also the hum of what they had started, what new territory they had entered without really thinking about it.
Kaijus weren't sexual beings. They didn't reproduce. They were clones. Even the baby hadn't been conceived in an act guided and pushed by a biological imperative. There hadn't even been copulation, just cloning. They just needed the reassurance of the hive mind, no matter how young or old, how developed. This… this was very human.
"Newt?"
His eyes flew open and he knew he was staring. Wide-eyed.
"I like this," Hermann repeated quietly, never stopping the touch.
Then he leaned down and kissed him, their lips meeting in a gentle contact. Newton opened up and heard himself sigh in contentment.
They were compatible.
Because both of them had been rewired in this Drift. They had been connected, had proven to be able to take the strain off of one mind, share it. Hermann did it like he did everything: diligently, anally, professionally. Newton just… did what came instinctively.
He had never seen Hermann Gottlieb without clothes, Newt thought wildly. Even in the past months, while he had been in the same bed, there had been hardly any exposed skin.
But he knew that skin, had been in that skin, had been Hermann, and he knew. Now he wanted to see for real, to touch without the cover of clothing, without taking too many liberties.
"I like it, too," he finally said.
Hermann smiled and it was adorable. Downright adorable. Gottlieb followed the gentle guidance of the hand against the nape of his neck, kissing Newton softly.
And yeah, making out was fun.
tbc...