that green-eyed moster

Rating: T
Pairing: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb

Summary: "Hermann rolls his eyes, but it's more of an exasperated fondness than anything. "I…reconsidered your proposal," he says, and when Newt stares at him blankly, clarifies, "your proposal to acquire non-human companionship."

"Jesus," Newt says, "pets, Hermann, they're called pets."

"Non-human companions," Hermann restates firmly, "do not see this as me giving in to your whims, Newton, stop, no, don't—""


"Newton," Hermann says, hand coming to rest on his shoulder, and Newt, engrossed in his work, perched precariously on the seat of the tall stool, starts, lets out an undignified squeak, and flails in an attempt to not overbalance, bits of neutralised kaiju blue flying every which way.

When he finally steadies himself, he frowns at Hermann. "Dude," he says, "dude, give me warning next time, yeah?"

Hermann gives him a deadpan look. "You're one to lecture me," he says drily. Newt tries to focus on that, on bringing up indignance instead of the instinctual oh god you're adorable that's his first thought. "And perhaps if you sat properly—"

Newt huffs, pulls off his gloves with a sharp snap. "Herms," he says, "we've talked about this. I don't complain about your stupid chalk obsession and you don't needle me about my chair thing, capisce? Now, what was it you were going to tell me?"

Hermann rolls his eyes, but it's more of an exasperated fondness than anything. "I…reconsidered your proposal," he says, and when Newt stares at him blankly, clarifies, "your proposal to acquire non-human companionship."

"Jesus," Newt says, "pets, Hermann, they're called pets."

"Non-human companions," Hermann restates firmly, "do not see this as me giving in to your whims, Newton, stop, no, don't—"

But it's too late, because Newt has already hopped off of the chair and dragged the physicist into an embrace. The other goes stiff for a moment before he sighs, apparently resigning himself to the situation, and stops trying to push Newt away. "I haven't given in," he repeats, "I've simply reconsidered."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Herms," Newt grins.

The humane society nearby isn't very large, but the staff are very helpful. Thankfully for them, Newt and Hermann both agree on cats being the pet of choice, so no one's subjected to a shouting match.

"How about this one?" Newt asks, gesturing to the calico in his lap. She lets out a little mrrp? and stares at him mournfully until he relents and rubs her jaw.

Hermann squints at the two of them. "No," he says, "no, she's not the one."

Newt sighs. "What are you looking for, exactly?" he asks, but Hermann doesn't answer. For all his professed skepticism in fate, destiny, and chance, Hermann's actually pretty dead-set on finding the cat that's his perfect match. Newt shakes his head fondly.

Just as Newt's about to suggest that maybe they should be headed back to the flat, Hermann lets out a soft, "Oh, Newton—"

The cat he's cradling in his arms is one of the smallest ones—full-grown, but still only half the size of the others, ears almost comically oversized. Hermann's looking into its eyes with unadulterated adoration.

"So," Newt says, "I take it you found the one?"

"Yes," Hermann says. "Isn't she just precious? Oh yes, you are, aren't you, darling?"

The cat's purring, but its large, icy eyes are fixed on Newt, and the intensity makes him shiver with something like dread.

On the trip home, the newly-christened Ada—"After Ada Lovelace?" Newt asks, and Hermann scoffs, shoots him a look that says, quite clearly, Of course it is, Newton, you idiot, what do you take me for?—sits on Hermann's lap in the passenger seat.

Newt feels weirdly left out—Hermann's cooing at her, murmuring endearments, and on the whole, barely even acknowledging Newt's presence. Newt puts down the weird stabbing sensation in his stomach to indigestion.

Later, though, just as he's about to drift off, wrapped in Hermann's embrace, he rolls just a bit too far—

And finds himself gasping in pain as claws rip through his arm, jolting him back to wakefulness. He barely swallows back the instinctive yelp, clutches his arm. By his side, Hermann shifts, and Newt freezes, afraid he's woken the other.

Hermann settles back down, though, and Newt's left to drag in ragged breaths as quietly as he can, Ada staring at him judgementally from where she's relocated herself to between the two of them, and Newt gets the distinct impression that the cat does not like him.

"He's not your territory," he whispers, and tries to shift her so that he can return to cuddling with the lanky mathematician.

She hisses at him, eyes narrowed, and makes as if to claw him.

"Newton," Hermann says, two months in, and his tone throws up all of the red flags in Newt's mind for disappointment _and—"I need you to be honest with me. Do you _dislike Ada?" He gives Newt a look that's somewhere along the lines of…well, hesitancy and fear.

"No!" Newt exclaims, "no, I don't!" Because really, he doesn't. Sure, he'd rather she didn't like, fucking try and kill him when he tries to do anything with Hermann, and of course she's a perfect angel whenever Hermann's around, but.

He doesn't dislike her.

Hermann lets out a sigh of relief, the tension draining from his shoulders. "Good," he says, more relaxed. "Good."

Ada takes that moment to saunter into the room, and like a moth to the flame, Hermann's attention shifts from Newt to the cat.

Newt tries not to feel cold, but it's as if he's been doused in ice-water. The cake he's served himself tastes like ash when he takes a bite, and he scowls.

It feels like Hermann's ignoring him, he realises.

Newt does not know what to do with this information, but he certainly doesn't like the way it makes emotion rise up into his throat. When will Hermann finally wake up and realise he protects a monster? A monster who seems hellbent on maiming Newt for encroaching on "her" territory, at that, and yeah, maybe he's being dramatic with the word monsterhere, but come on, he's still got scabs from where she scratched him the first night.

"—on? Newton?" Hermann says, and Newt blinks, realises Hermann's probably been saying something to him for at leastthe last few minutes.

"Huh? Yeah?" he asks, "sorry, I kind of zoned out there."

Hermann sighs. "I was saying," he starts, "that Ada needs to be taken into the vet's tomorrow for her next round of shots, and I was wondering if you could take her?"

"Why can't you?" Newt asks, petulantly, "since you two are best buds now."

The bitterness in his tone takes them both aback, and Hermann stares at him, shocked. After a moment, he says, "Newton, I cannot take her because I have class."

"Oh," Newt says, feeling wrong-footed. "Sorry, I—" he hesitates, and Hermann motions for him to continue.

"She doesn't like me," Newt blurts out, "any time I try and like, even hug you when she's in the room, bam! And dude, her claws? Sharp."

Hermann stares at him blankly for a moment, before he bursts out laughing. "What?" Newt snaps, crossing his arms.

"I—" Hermann lets out another laugh. "Newton, you—oh, darling, are you jealous of Ada?"

Newt freezes. "I—no, don't be ridiculous, I'm not—" he protests.

Hermann shakes his head. "Newton," he says, and stops petting Ada, makes his way over to Newt and takes his hand. "Newton, darling, there's no need to be jealous—for either of you to feel jealous of the other. My love isn't limited to just one of you, yes?"

"Yeah," Newt says, suddenly feeling very foolish, and glances at the cat, who's lounging on the sofa without a care in the world.

Hermann smiles at him and says, smugly, "Yes," and draws Newt in for a toe-curling kiss.