stars in our eyes
Rating: T
Pairing: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Summary: "Newt and Hermann are both nerdy as hell, so of course, their first meeting (cough date cough) is at an observatory."
When Newt proposes they meet in person—jokingly, a one-off that's more than just that, that actually means a lot to him—, he's not expecting Hermann to actually, like, reply. He's expecting that Hermann will, maybe, maybe make a joke about it and then carry on with the rest of the letter the way he normally does.
He doesn't expect to open Hermann's latest letter and find that Hermann's started it off with, Oh, thank goodness you finally asked; I wanted to, but couldn't work up the nerve; which leaves Newt staring at the letter, grinning like a lunatic, because, uh, holy shit Hermann just said that he wanted, wants, whatever, to meet. Holy fuck.
He has to take a bit of a lie-down after that because he thinks he might actually, legitimately float out of his skin with excitement.
After that, he reads the rest of Hermann's letter, which is half the way their letters normally go, with tidbits of personal life and research and shit, and then the other half is asking about possible times and places to meet up—apparently, Hermann's got some money saved up, and, well, he wonders if Newt might want to meet at the Museum of Science?
Yes, Newt would like to meet him at the Museum of Science, Newt would love that, Newt would love to meet him, hell, in a fucking piss-filled alleyway at midnight.
…that makes it sound weird.
The point is, Newt is…really really fucking excited at the prospect of meeting Hermann, as he says, repeatedly, in his reply to Hermann's letter, complete with a smiley face at the end because he can.
Then he puts his pen down and rereads Hermann's letter—letters, actually, plural; he goes back and reads all of them, grinning widely the entire time. It could just be his imagination, but he swears, he swears, that, over the past two or three years, Hermann's letters have gotten not only less academically-oriented and formal, but also downright flirtatious in the past few.
Newt has definitely been flirtatious, that's for fucking sure—he's had a crush on Hermann since basically the get go. A smart, drily funny, slightly repressed man who was actually willing to talk to him rather than brush him aside for being "too young" or "being absurd" with his theories? Newt's not sure there's a universe where he wouldn't fall for that.
And even when Hermann does call his theories absurd, there's a bit of fondness there—at least, he thinks it's fondness. He hopes it's fondness.
He practically sprints to the post office to mail his own letter before it closes; and then goes home and eats the entire tub of ice-cream he has saved for an emergency because it's not, like, technically an emergency but he deserves it.
Finally, after a few months, they get all the kinks in the plan banged out, and Hermann's on his way to Boston—he's flying into Logan International at around ten, and then they're going to meet up the next day at the museum.
That night, Newt can barely sleep; mind racing with thoughts of what it'll be like—he's seen photos of Hermann before, once or twice, but he hasn't, like, seen anything high quality, or full body, and so there's still an element of anticipation there.
It's a good thing that they're going to meet up in the evening, because he doesn't fall asleep until like, four in the morning.
The rest of the day seems to fly by; before he knows it, Newt's taking a few deep breaths and prodding his hair and checking his phone to see if Hermann's texted him—nope, last text is from ah hour and a half ago, telling Newt that he's running a bit late and will be there at eight-thirty. Oh, god, did something happen—?
"Newton?"
Newt turns around. "Hermann!" he exclaims, grinning widely, and then: "you're taller than I was expecting."
Hermann blinks at him; but, seeming to take it in stride, says, "You're more vibrant than I was expecting. I didn't realise you'd gotten so many more tattoos since last time. How far exactly…?" he trails off; and then blushes.
Newt winks. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
The blush goes even darker. "We ought to get up to the observatory before it gets too late."
"That's fair," Newt concedes, and follows after him inside.
They take the elevator up to the observatory—given that it's April, the air is a bit nippy still at night, so there's not a ton of people up here—in fact, there's only two other people besides them, so they get the big, twelve-inch telescope to themselves.
It takes a few minutes, but Hermann manages to find some of Jupiter's moons. "Io's to the left," he says, stepping aside to allow Newt to look.
"Oh, shit, you're right!" he exclaims. "Dude, like—oh my god, I can actually see it with my own two eyes? Like, not great, but—!" he trails off with a breathless laugh. "Oh my god," he says, again.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Hermann's smile. "If we're lucky, we might be able to see the other moons of Jupiter," he says.
Newt stares at him. "Shit, really? I wanna see Enceladus—did you know that there might be life beneath the surface? I mean, it's not like aliens don't exist, just look at the kaiju, but like…in our own solar system—think about how cool that would be!"
"…that certainly would be something," Hermann concedes. "I'm not sure how that would work, to be honest—it's not my field—, but it must be fascinating."
"It is," Newt enthuses. "I mean, there's, like, there's this frozen crust, right, yeah, but then beneath that, there's a liquid ocean! And that's, like, step one for life. And then there's all these under-water vents, right—just like on Earth! Well—" he stops, huffing— "not, like, exactly the same, obviously, but…"
Before he realises it, he's spent an hour talking about the possibility of life on other planets and moons, which then turns into talking about xenobiology, and it's only when Hermann hides a jaw-cracking yawn behind his hand that he realises that Hermann has barely been able to get a word in edgewise.
He stops. "Shit," he says, head dropping to stare at the ground. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…I just…I know i get excited sometimes. I—sorry."
"It's quite alright," Hermann assures.
Newt shakes his head. "No, I—I wanted to see you, and hear you talk, but I kinda dominated the conversation, which is pretty crappy of me. I just—ugh. I'm just, I got nervous, 'cause I like you and I want you to like me, and when I get nervous I babble—"
"You like me?" Hermann asks; and Newt's jaw snaps shut. "No, I—I like you to!" Hermann says, realising that Newt's wide-eyed look is fear of—of Hermann snapping at him, or, or rejecting him.
The biologist swallows. "Oh," he says; and they stand there, silently; Newt on the platform behind the telescope, making him taller than Hermann, and Hermann on the other side, with it between them—they've walked around the observatory and come back to where they started. He's a bit nervous, still, but he manages to get up the courage to hold out his hand, and Hermann's face brightens with a smile, and he takes it; and just like that, they're holding hands—shit, this sort of counts as a date, doesn't it?
Hermann's the first to speak. "When can I see you again?" he asks softly. He's looking up at Newt with wide, earnest eyes. Tonight, Newt wants to say. Wants to take Hermann back to his condo and rock his world—or get his world rocked, Newt's not picky—but he doesn't want to ruin this feeling. It's new, and genuine, and pure, and Newt can't get enough of it.
He bites his lip. "I signed up with the Jager program a few months ago. They accepted me—I was gonna surprise you at our orientation, 'cause we'll be at the academy together."
"I was thinking more immediately," Hermann says; a little dry, but soft. "My return flight isn't for two more days…maybe you could show me around the city?"
Newt's heart thumps harder; chest warm. "I'd love to," he says. "Uh—you have my number, just. Call me when you're ready tomorrow."
"Alright," Hermann says; and then they walk, quietly, hand in hand to the elevator and take it down to the ground floor.
When they step outside, Hermann takes his hand from Newt's; and, for a moment, Newt misses it; but then the other leans in to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, Newton," he says, "I'll see you tomorrow." And then he turns to walk towards his bus-stop.
"…goodnight!" Newt calls, weakly, after him. On the way back to his condo, it feels like he's floating, and he's grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt.
