save the dance

Rating: T
Pairing: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Summary:
"Newt and Hermann attend the annual PPDC Halloween party"


The facts are these: twice a year, the PPDC holds a staff party. One for the New Year's, and one for Halloween. Hermann, as a rule, never attends; he's got better things to do, after all, than stand around and smile politely at people he's only talked to once or twice before. Besides, the New Year's parties seem too grim these days, and the Halloween parties too childish.

However: Newton is standing before him, expression pleading. "Please, Hermann," he whines, "I don't wanna go alone, and Eric cancelled on me."

"You want me to be your accomplice to the Halloween party," Hermann repeats, flatly. "You are aware that a costume is necessary, yes? I shan't be participating in such ridiculousness—I never have before, and I'm not about to start now."

Newton pouts. "You don't even have to dress up!" he protests. "Just wear your frumpiest clothes and if anyone asks, you're Alan Turing. You've already got the vibes down."

Hermann considers it for a long moment; long enough that Newton's expression turns painfully, achingly hopeful, and Hermann feels a stab of regret as he says, "No."

"Hermann," Newton groans. "Please? Please please please? Look, I promise, I'll owe you a favour or something, okay? Shit, dude, I'll pay you fifty bucks."

"We both know you don't have that sort of disposable income," Hermann points out.

Newton lets out a heaving sigh; his hands, moments before fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, coming up in exasperation. Hermann tries not to stare. They're very nice hands—calloused and currently stained with ink, because Newton likes playing with pens; a trait that Hermann will never admit to finding endearing. "Twenty, then," he says, "look, dude, I never show up alone—I can't break tradition now."

Hermann grimaces. "Fine," he says, finally.

The other lets out a cheer. "Fuck yeah!" he says. "Okay, I'll meet you at yours at nine, okay?"

"Payment first," Hermann reminds him.

Newton heaves another sigh, pulling out his wallet, and riffles through it for a twenty. "There," he says, shoving it at Hermann.

Their fingers brush for an instant as Hermann takes the bill; and he hopes his ears aren't red; or, that, if they are, Newton chalks it up to the cold weather—the shatterdome is absurdly drafty and has been since September.

Hermann pockets the bill. "I'll see you at nine," he says; and turns back to his blackboards.

Newton mutters something that he doesn't catch; and stomps back over to his own side of the line.

That evening, Hermann finds himself oddly fidgety; comparing various sweaters to see which one will look best—something he never does. Well, never does, unless it's for a date. But that's absurd—this isn't a date, it's just a staff Halloween party. Newton doesn't feel that way about him.

Finally, nine o'clock arrives, and there's a knock on his door. Taking a deep breath, Hermann opens it to find Newton, in what appears to be— "Is that a kaiju?"

Newton grins. "Rawr," he says. "Right on, dude."

"I don't think kaiju roar," Hermann mutters. "You're oddly punctual," he adds.

The other shrugs. "Didn't wanna make you rethink," he says; lips twisted into a lopsided smile.

Then, without warning, Newton steps forward; hands smoothing over his shoulders. "Your vest was wrinkled," he says, by way of explanation. His hands are warm even through the fabric; and his touch lingers for a moment, making Hermann's heart beat faster, before he steps back. "Well," he says, "let's go."

"Let's," Hermann croaks; hand tight around the head of his cane.

The party is loud; Hermann immediately gravitates towards a dark, quiet corner as far from the stereo as he can find. Newton hares off, engaging a J-tech in conversation; and a moment later, they're laughing, and Newton is pulling her to dance.

"You should dance with him," comes a familiar voice—Tendo.

Hermann rips his gaze away, cheeks heating. "Pardon—?"

The other nods towards where Newton's standing; a hand on the J-tech's hip and the other on her shoulder. "You've been staring longingly at him for the past five minutes," he says, "I'm surprised he hasn't noticed."

Hermann sputters. "I have not—"

"You have," Tendo interrupts. "He should be done dancing with her soon—it can't hurt to ask. And if he says no, you can come mope with me—I've got some nice eggnog hidden away."

"Thanks," Hermann mutters.

A few moments later, as predicted, Newton breaks away from the J-tech; and, taking a deep breath Hermann makes his way towards him. "Newton!" he calls, once he's close enough.

"Yeah, what's up?" Newton asks.

"Er. I was wondering…" Hermann ducks his head, trying to gain courage; and then, finally, says— "I was wondering if you'd like to dance?"

A brilliant smile spreads across Newton's face. "I thought you'd never ask," he says, offering Hermann his hand.