in which newt and hermann finally get what they deserve

Rating: T
Pairing: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Summary:
""Hey," Newt says. "Do you wanna get married?"

There's a chasm of space between them—two inches at least; but Newt can feel the cold radiating off of the other man. He needs to wear more, Newt notes, idly, and tugs the quilt up, up, up; ticks it around Hermann's neck.

There's a beat; and then, widely, a yawn. "I thought you'd be more dramatic about it," Hermann admits.

Newt scowls. "Hey," he says, "I'm not dramatic.""


"Hey," Newt says. "Do you wanna get married?"

There's a chasm of space between them—two inches at least; but Newt can feel the cold radiating off of the other man. He needs to wear more, Newt notes, idly, and tugs the quilt up, up, up; ticks it around Hermann's neck.

There's a beat; and then, widely, a yawn. "I thought you'd be more dramatic about it," Hermann admits.

Newt scowls. "Hey," he says, "I'm not dramatic."

In the dark, he can practically see Hermann raise a brow. The other shifts, burrowing deeper beneath the covers. "Alright," he says.

"Alright?"

"Yes. I'll marry you, Newton. Now please go to sleep—it's half past one."

"We used to stay up 'til two on the regular," Newt grumbles; but settles down properly; closing the distance between them and smiling at the soft hum of contentment Hermann gives as Newt's warmth seeps through his shirt.

The next morning, Newt wakes up to find Hermann up already; laptop propped up on his lap, a search for—Newt fumbles to find his glasses—bakeries open.

Hermann spots the movement. "Ah, good morning," he says. "Do you prefer a tiered cake or a single layer?"

"What for?" Newt asks; mouth dry; and runs his tongue over his teeth, then swallows. "'s not my birthday until January—"

Hermann turns to give him a flat stare; and Newt suddenly remembers. "Oh," he says. "Oh! Shit, dude, uh—I dunno. What's fanciest? We gotta have a fancy wedding—you like all that pomp and ritual. Uh—wait, do we know any rabbis in town?"

Hermann's look changes to one of bemusement. "I already took care of that, Newton," he says. "Now, do you want the tiered, or the single?"

"Hell—let's do tiered. Wait, let me write this down—" He scrambles out from beneath the covers, managing to find a pen and a pad of paper. "Okay, tiered cake. Uh—what flavour?"

"I was thinking lemon," Hermann replies. "Your thought?"

"Lemon's great," Newt says. "So, we're inviting—"

Hermann closes the laptop and shoves it aside; reaches out and grips his arm. "Newton," he says, "we can do that later. Come back to bed."

"...okay," Newt says, after a beat, and crawls back in, cuddling up to Hermann's side; and then says, voice full of awe: "dude, we're gonna get married."

"We are," Hermann agrees, and smiles; stroking Newt's hand; a line of warmth against him; hair mussed and expression soft; and Newt thinks, fuck, I love him.

"I love you," he says; not for the first time; because that was years ago, foolishly, without understanding the implications of blurting it out like that to Hermann; but now it's got a depth to it, a weight.

Hermann's smile widens. "And I love you," he returns; also not for the first time, but it still makes Newt's heart sing to hear it.


"Do we have everything in place?" Newt asks; tugging at the collar of his shirt. He's chosen to dress up for the occasion, but the suit feels unfamiliar—he's only worn it once or twice before, and only worn a suit a few times period. "The cake, the seating, the—"

"It's all taken care of," Vanessa assures. "Take a breath, Newt, it's gonna be okay."

"Right. Right." He takes a deep breath, and then laughs nervously. "Sorry, I'm just a little—"

"Nervous? Yeah, I know the feeling." Vanessa's lips quirk. "When Karla and I got married, I was a wreck the whole week before. Practically fainted the day of. The only thing that got me through was Hermann, honestly."

"A week? " Newt shakes his head. "Jeez. I could never do that."

Vanessa shrugs. "Different strokes for different folks. Oh, c'mere—your tie's crooked. Here." She adjusts it. "Now you look perfect."

"Thanks," Newt mumbles; and takes another deep breath. "Okay," he says, "showtime."

Hermann is absolutely gorgeous; and Newt's breath stutters in his throat at the sight of him; radiant and smiling; so caught up in the sight that he practically can't get through his vows. He does manage to, but his voice cracks; the slight imperfection leading to Hermann reaching out to squeeze his hand comfortingly.

And then, before he knows it, they're officially married.

Newt starts to tear up as they make their way over to the table; and Hermann turns to him; frowning slightly. "Darling, are you alright?" he asks, quietly.

Newt nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. I'm just really really happy."

If someone had told Newt five years ago that he'd be marrying the love of his life in front of his closest friends and family, he would've laughed in their face. (Because Newton Geiszler doesn't get to have a happily ever after, right?)

But against all odds, here they are; Newt's hand in Hermann's, as they sit next to each other at the table, sharing a slice of their wedding(! wedding! ) cake. It's real; painfully, gloriously real, and Newt feels delirious, practically, with happiness.

"Yeah," he says, again. "I'm fine. I just love you a lot, you know that, right?"

"I do," Hermann says, softly, and offers him a bite of cake; the lemon frosting melting on Newt's tongue; a few flecks of it left on Hermann's lips from his own bite; and Newt smiles so hard his cheeks hurt and kisses him, right there, happy, in front of everyone; eyes closed and slow like some sort of cheesy romcom.

It's the best day of his life.