Disclaimer: I don't own "Pacific Rim" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Inspired by the prompt: "sticks and stones."
Warnings: friends to lovers, bickering, unresolved sexual tension, resolved romantic tension, drama, romance, oh my god- they are drift-mates.
Sticks and Stones
Everything about Hermann was stupid.
His clothes.
His haircut.
His personality.
His equations and theories.
His entire profession – life purpose.
His stupidly wide mouth.
His freakishly long- okay, maybe elegant fingers.
All of him, really.
Stupid.
So, when he found himself kissing the shit out of him in a supply closet as the rest of the Shatterdome partied, Hermann wasn't alone in being surprised about it. In fact, the moron was trying to tell him as much with muffled bursts of mmmppphhh! Neeemppbttt! against his lips.
Oh, and the way Hermann was still trying to argue with him mid-make out? Stupid.
Also, kind of hot.
"Dude, shut uuup," he rasped as he finally came up for air. Forehead resting against Hermann's with a gentle catch. Something was that surprisingly easy despite the fact that Hermann was now bitching at him for finally taking the initiative. Because yeah, he'd been inside the man's head. He knew all his pining - mostly expressed by intense arguing - was mutual.
They'd wasted years, not having this, so sue him if he wanted to make up for lost time.
Hermann spluttered, like he was struggling to think of a comeback. Blinking pupils so wide he barely looked like himself before his eyes focused, brain coming back on online, and-
"You shut up!"
This time Hermann kissed him like punch in the mouth.
Which, fair.
He might have split Hermann's bottom lip a couple minutes earlier.
"Out of all the places, you chose a bloody chemical closet!?" Hermann snarked, hand deep in his hair and happy to use it as rudder. Jerking him about as the dangerous slosh-slosh of the jugs he'd backed him into added a familiar edge. "You utter lunatic!"
He just grinned. Pressing a kiss across the underside of Hermann's jaw. Then doing it again when Hermann murmured. Obviously considering how he felt about it, before shuffling closer. Jaw canted in a clear demand for him to do it again.
A couple hours ago he might have gotten his back up about the crabby words and insults. But that Newton hadn't seen the bright tendril of warmth that threaded them together. That perfection connection that had slotted into place and given him Hermann's mind. Given him everything. But especially this. The knowledge that all the fighting was as much them as it was every atom screaming: 'mutual attraction' in heady, day-glow colors for the world to see.
"Sticks and stones, Herms," he sing-songed as Hermann croaked an encouraging sound when he scraped teeth down the arc of his throat. Finding something to linger for as Hermann's hips jumped against his. Honest and hungry. "Sticks and stones."
The way he saw it, he didn't think anything could hurt him ever again. As long as he had this, he was on cloud nine, baby. And sure, the world still being a thing was awesome too.
Overall? Best. Day. Ever.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! – This story is now complete.
Reference:
- "Sticks and Stones": From the popular childhood phrase of: "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me." A phrase used to show that people cannot be hurt by unpleasant things that are said to them.