Hermann Thinks He Needs a Hug

by Sarah1281

While Newt would be perfectly happy hugging 80% of the people he knows, Hermann has never been comfortable with touch. He doesn't really understand Newt's desire for it or how affected he is when he can't have physical contact. But now he's got a strange feeling and the evidence suggests he might just be in need of a hug. Who better to help him out than his very huggable friend?

Hermann was standing across the room looking at Newt with an expression of deep concentration on his face.

Newt could put him out of his misery and just ask but he was kind of curious how long Hermann was going to just stand there before he actually said something. Or chickened out and ran away.

Despite Newt's determination to not in any way help Hermann out with the oh-so-difficult task of…talking to Newt, at some point he did kind of have to go to the bathroom. And he could hold it alright, sure, but the fact he couldn't go and was thinking about it made him just really want to take care of that now.

But that would make it too easy for Hermann so Newt stubbornly continued to sit there.

Eventually, Hermann seemed to come to a decision and – looking resolute but infinitely more uncertain – he took a few steps towards Newt.

"Newton, may I, uh, speak with you?"

Instantly Newt shot up out of his chair. "Yeah, sure, no problem, buddy. Just give me one second and I'll be right back."

One quick trip to the bathroom later and Newt returned to find Hermann standing exactly where he'd left him. The sight made something go warm in his chest. Weird. Irrelevant.

"How can I help you, Herms?"

"I…that is to say…" Hermann looked down, looking embarrassed.

Newt didn't say anything but he tried his best to look encouraging.

Hermann cleared his throat. "Do you remember that argument we had a few weeks back about your incessant need to manhandle me?"

Newt laughed harshly. "Oh, I remember something like that. Specifically, I remember you going off on me because sometimes I brush past you or grab your arm or stupid little things like that."

Immediately Hermann frowns. "There's nothing wrong with asking that you not touch me," he said crossly.

"Well, sure, in theory, I guess," Newt said. "Even though that's like the weirdest thing I've ever heard of. I'm just a very tactile person, you know?"

"That's not an excuse," Hermann said. "I am very much not."

"Yeah, kind of figured that one out on my own, dude. I can't help if sometimes I brush against you when I'm walking by or if I make contact with your hand when handing you something. And sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it."

"You have six PhDs, Newton. How do you just 'not realize' you're touching someone?" Hermann asked skeptically.

Newt shrugged. "No idea. But it's a thing. Not paying attention, I guess. And not seeing physical contact as the horrid ordeal to be avoided like you do. Kind of like how I might not notice that something has peanut oil in it but if Tendo eats it he'll probably die."

"Tendo carries an EpiPen with him everywhere," Hermann said.

Newt rolled his eyes. "It's called exaggerating for effect. Now, look, not that I don't love to rehash old arguments with you – believe me, it's actually one of my top five favorite things – but why did you bring this particular one up? I've really been trying to stay away from you and I think I've been doing a pretty good job! I don't have to understand your weird issues to try and accommodate them, you know."

"You could always try not calling them weird," Hermann suggested.

Newt considered it. "Nah. Because the issue may or may not be inherently weird but you're the one who has it and you're a weird guy so therefore it's weird by default. Basic transitive property stuff."

Hermann decided to ignore that. "You have done an admirable job of not coming within two feet of me at any time, though that's a little more than I actually asked for, but I was actually trying to bring up the subject of our last…discussion on the matter."

Newt frowned as he tried to think back. "Oh, when I told you I was touch starved and you looked at me like I was speaking gibberish."

"I often look at you that way," Hermann said.

Newt nodded. "Yeah, I know. That's why I recognized it so easily. What about it?"

"I don't really…that is to say, I've done research. I don't disbelieve you-"

"Anymore," Newt interrupted.

Hermann glared at him. "But I really don't understand. What does being touch starved even feel like? How do you know if you are touch starved?"

"Well, I can tell you right now that you're not touch starved and never have been because you called the endless coronavirus pandemic the most resting and relaxful time of your life," Newt said.

Hermann actually looked wistful. "I got so much done. No one was bothering me. I wouldn't have liked it to be like that forever, I'm sure, but it was wonderful. And if I didn't want to pay attention to the messages you sent I didn't have to. You're much more difficult to tune out in the flesh."

Newt blew a raspberry at him. You know, like a mature adult.

"The point is, you and everyone else were complaining about being touch starved. And you've complained about that before. And I just…don't understand."

"It's a well-documented phenomenon, you know," Newt said. "Heavily linked to failure to thrive. There were all those poor kids at that Romanian orphanage who didn't have any nurturing and so just didn't gain weight and grow like they should have and I think some of them even died."

"I've read the studies, too, Newton."

"Well it's kind of hard to explain," Newt said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "You just...feel kind of depressed and anxious. More so than usual. Because, like, touch isn't a magic way to make your mental health problems go away. Like, you're stressed out and maybe not happy with some of your relationships. It can be hard to sleep or even want to do anything related to maintaining relationships. Maybe some sexual dysfunction there, probably some loneliness…"

"So wait…" Hermann said slowly. "Wanting to be touched-"

"Needing to be touched, really. I know it's not exactly something that you'll die without – in most circumstances – but if a lack of it is causing such physical and emotional distress then I'd put it up there as a need. Just maybe less of an urgent one than food and sleep if you absolutely have to prioritize one."

"Needing to be touched, then," Hermann corrected himself. "Is liable to make you withdraw from the people who might touch you?"

Newt nodded. "Pretty counterproductive, right? So you kind of have to guess with some of these things because you could be feeling any and all of them and needing touch might have nothing to do with it. But unless you feel like if you're touched right then it will be unpleasant – I've definitely been there with sensory overload like you have no idea – then it's worth a try to see if it helps."

"Why would it help?"

Newt brightened. "So glad you asked! When you get stressed your body releases cortisol. Which is great! Gets you ready to run from asshole middle school bullies or kaiju attacks. But your body is kind of stupid so it thinks you need to prepare to escape from death when actually you might just be running late to some bullshit meeting no one cares about anyway."

"We always care when you're late," Hermann said. "We just have kind of given up on you."

"It's more Pentecost's job to wrangle me than anything and if he can't do it it's kind of on him," Newt said offhandedly. "But hush, I am trying to teach here!"

"I am hardly an undergrad, Newton," Hermann protested.

"Yeah, my undergrads would have shut the hell up ages ago," Newt said agreeably. "Now, touch is kind of the wonder drug here. It's like the ultimate cool-down hug you see in movies. Not that I can recommend doing that for safety and liability reasons. But anyway, when you touch someone you stimulate pressure receptors that send signals to the vagus nerve which is connected to the rest of the body. These signals slow the nervous system down helping to reduce your heart rate and blood pressure and allowing your immune system, which is suppressed when your stupid body wants you to like punch your dad - yours specifically Hermann, not mine because my dad is awesome – because he wants to take all our money and go all Trump on the kaiju's asses, to get back to business."

"I had rather figured you were referring to my father," Hermann said, not seeming perturbed in the slightest.

"So basically…yay touch! For science! But being touch starved is a lot like depression in that you can't very well just take a blood test and have it come back touch-starved. You just sort of have to look at how you're feeling and work it out for yourself."

Hermann looked torn.

Newt grinned. "Ah, you want to compliment me, don't you? But you're worried about my ego so you don't want to."

"You know me too well," Hermann said dryly. "And yes, fine, that was very informative. And much more interesting than I probably would have been able to find on a reputable source online. If a little more political."

"Hey, what's political?" Newt asked. "The part about your dad? Because that's really more about-"

"I meant the Trump bit," Hermann interrupted.

Newt blinked. "Oh, well, that's just a statement of fact. Are we back to only one side of the aisle gets to agree that facts exist?"

"I'm not even American and I will not be having this argument with you. Not again. Not today," Hermann said firmly.

Newt grinned again. "Hermann, I do so love when you humor me. But hey, did that answer all your questions? Do you think you've ever been touch starved?"

Hermann slowly shook his head. "No, I really don't."

"Then what brought all of this on?" Newt asked curiously.

Hermann hesitated.

"Hermann, buddy, come on," Newt said, this time taking pity. "I saw you that one time you got drunk and fell in love with that poster of that basketball player."

"Mmm, Josh McRoberts," Hermann said. "I still can't explain it. I didn't like how tall he was but, other than that, he was strangely compelling."

Newt shrugged. "Whatever, I never got it. But there's really no need to be embarrassed after that. Or, if you want, I can keep listing stupid stuff I've seen you do. The list is a whole lot shorter than the list of stupid things you've seen me do but, well, this isn't about me right now."

Hermann nodded to himself a few times. "Alright, well…in that case…can I have a hug?"

Newt's brain was apparently malfunctioning or something. "Sorry?"

Now looking horribly embarrassed, Hermann repeated himself.

"But…I…I mean, you know me, I never say no to a hug. Unless it's a fascist. But fascists aren't really big on hugs in my experience," Newt was babbling. Newt was always babbling. It gave his brain time to think while his mouth was keeping people occupied. "You said that you don't like to be touched. That's what started all of this. You said you don't know what to do when someone touches you or when they hug you or how long before you let go. You said that afterwards it feels like a kind of mental burning on your skin where you were touched a lot like how it feels when you have a compulsion and you don't do it. You said that you can easily go whole weeks just naturally not touching people and not thinking of it at all. You said that sometimes, for no clear reason, parts of your body just get way too sensitive and can't stand to touch anything. That sometimes it's your nipples and you can't stand to wear a shirt and that sometimes it's your fingers and you can't type or work at all for hours. You said that it's kind of a hypersensitivity that can get way worse for no clear reason and that you think it's allodynia but you don't know why it's there."

Hermann was looking at him strangely. "Yes, I…I did say all of that. And…you remembered."

"Well, yeah, why wouldn't I?" Newt said, feeling awkward all of a sudden. It wasn't weird that he did, right? What was the point in Hermann telling him any of that, over days and weeks, if he wasn't expected to remember? "I listen!"

Something always like a smile came over Hermann's face. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you do."

"So now you want a hug?"

"I think so," Hermann said. "I generally don't like touch but giving touch has always been different than receiving touch. And my circulation is so poor and my hands so cold that generally I can't imagine touching me would be a very pleasant experience anyway. Not unless it were hot out, I suppose. The number of times my hands have been too cold to type…"

"Is it different?" Newt asked curiously. "I haven't found that to be the case for me. Unless, you know, things like tickling or genitals but I think that's just because your brain knows exactly how you are going to touch yourself so there's no surprise and less of a response and your brain is stupid and even if you knows what's going to happen and your eyes watch it happen it still doesn't get it."

"For a biologist, you sure do call brains stupid a lot," Hermann noted.

Newt shrugged. "Eh, I say it with love."

"And yes, I do find it to be different. Maybe it's for the same reason? I know exactly what I'm doing and can control it when I'm touching someone. I just know, I don't have the same negative reaction to it. Though I still don't find it pleasant and I don't really seek it out so it's still a rarity."

Newt narrowed his eyes, thinking. "And now you think you want to hug me?"

"Well not-" Whatever Hermann was going to say, he seemed to think better of it. "Now I'm not sure as this is a very unfamiliar sensation. I just feel…do you know what it's like when you know what song you want to listen to because you can almost hear it in your head? Or what food you want to eat because you can almost taste it?"

"I guarantee you that I do not, dude, but keep going, this is fascinating," Newt said, unconsciously swallowing his lips.

"I just feel like…on both sides of my body, right under my armpits but on the edge of the front of my chest and not the side," Hermann said, touching the spot he meant with the hand not holding the cane. "It feels…weird. I'm sorry, I know that's not helpful. Like it almost feels like it's being touched. But it's not. I can only speculate my brain or my body or what have you wants to be touched there. But people don't go around touching people there unless they are picking up a small child. And...and my arms. On the top of my arms a little above my elbow and a few inches down. I may be way off base and it I don't do anything, I'm sure it will pass. Just the same, I am a scientist and if I look at the evidence…"

He trailed off and looked beseechingly at Newt.

There was something that felt really warm in his chest and a smile that felt surprisingly soft on his face. "I don't know, Hermann. It's not something I've ever experienced. But if you think this will help…if you'd like a hug, even if it turns out that that's not what this is at all, then I'm glad you came to me. I kind of am an expert hugger here and I promise I won't get offended if it turns out that yet another theory of yours is wrong."

Hermann tentatively smiled back and shuffled forward a few steps. "Really, Newton, must you?"

"Really, Hermann, I must," Newt said, doing a spot-on (well in his opinion, anyway, and who cared what Hermann thought of it? He was obviously biased. And jealous) impression of Hermann.

Hermann shuffled forward a few more steps.

Newt's grin widened and he bounded forward the rest of the way to Hermann. He started to raise his arms then stopped. "Wait, how do you want to do this? You hugging me?"

Hermann blinked rapidly, looking quite pleased. "I, uh, yes, I think that would be best."

Newt held his arms out as wide as they could go. "All you, buddy."

Hermann's gaze flickered from his eyes to lower down his body.

Newt felt suddenly strangely self-conscious but he did his best to keep his expression open and inviting and fought the urge to bring his arms down and cross them over his chest.

Hermann took that last hesitant step forward and his eyes nervously met Newt's. "Are you sure? Because, I know we are friends now but I don't know if friends normally do this kind of thing. I mean, yes, I know that you do with your friends. And acquaintances. And random strangers sometimes depending on how excited you are or how much alcohol you have had. But I don't and so this is a bit more than a-"

"Hermann," Newt interrupted, feeling light enough to fly and yet, somehow, almost calm. "I've got you. If you really don't want to, by all means don't. I'm not here to force myself on anyone. But this doesn't have to be weird unless we make it weird. And we make most things weird so, like, weird for our standards."

Hermann nodded a few times to steady himself then closed his eyes and surged forward. He hunched over a little and his arms locked tightly around Newt's middle. His head was just under Newt's chin. He was…he was taller than Hermann in this moment.

It was strange.

It was awesome.

He glanced down and saw Hermann's eyes still squeezed very tightly and his lips pressed tightly together.

"You good?" he asked even though if Hermann weren't good he could let go all on his own. It never hurt to check.

Hermann nodded and the top of his hair tickled Newt's nose.

This whole being taller than someone – even if only because that person was partially bent over for some reason – was really going to go to his head, wasn't it? He should spend more time with children. And not the tall children. The last thing he needed was an eleven-year-old he had to look up at.

Slowly, giving Hermann plenty of time to back away or say something or even just give any sort of nonverbal sign that this was unwelcome, Newt raised his arms and wrapped them gently around Hermann.

Hermann made a soft noise at that.

Newt's arms jerked and he almost pulled back before thinking better of it. "What about now?"

"That…that's perfect," Hermann said hoarsely.

Newt smiled. That was kind of what he was thinking, too.

Too tight grip and hair in his face and face pressed against his stomach and cane leaning against his side and in danger of falling over and all.

"This might be the best hug I've ever had," Newt mused.

He could literally feel the vibrations of Hermann's laugh travel through his body. "Liar."

"Oh yeah? Then what was your best hug?" Newt challenged.

"I…this one," Hermann admitted. "I think I was right. I think, for some reason, today I just needed one. Nothing even bad happened, I just…"

"Brains are stupid like that," Newt said knowingly.

"Yeah. Brains are stupid like that," Hermann echoed.

"If this is your best why can't it be mine?"

"Well, I can count the number of hugs I've willingly participated in on my hands and sometimes you have six hugs before breakfast," Hermann said.

Newt groaned good-naturedly. "Hermann. You've seriously got to stop trying to work Alice in Wonderland references into every conversation. It's just never going to happen. Like Fetch!"

"And Mean Girls is any better?" Hermann asked.

"Hell yeah it is," Newt said, moving his head slightly so it was leaning against Hermann's. He cleared his throat. "So not to, uh, rush you and I'm perfectly fine here so don't think you have to on my account but…are we don't here or…?"

Hermann considered then, impossibly, his hold on Newt tightened. "No, I think I'd like to stand here a little longer. If that's alright with you."

Newt laughed. "Dude, I just told you that it was."

"Thank you," Hermann said quietly. "You're a good friend, Newton."

"Hell yeah, I am," Newt said happily.

He closed his eyes and just focused on the moment.

It wasn't every day Hermann Gottlieb came to you wanting a hug and he had no intention of disappointing.