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Newt breathed a heavy, resilient sigh. He leaned closer over his own lap, eyes trained on the irritated red spot on the ball of his left foot. A splinter. A horrible, dastardly, impossible to remove, splinter. He'd picked, he'd pressed, he'd squeezed, but all of his efforts weren't making a bit of difference. If anything, it just seemed to make the mutinous bastard go deeper.
"Come on, man. I didn't even do anything to you! Why are you being like this?" His attempts at reasoning were pointless and he knew it. He heaved another sigh and let his foot slide back to the floor with a wince. He should have been able to do this! He was a biologist for crying out loud! Educated! Accomplished! Not to mention a fully grown adult!
And currently getting completely and utterly owned by a tiny fragment of wood. In the middle of the night. With nobody awake to assist him.
Well, that wasn't true. There was one person who was probably awake, even at this ridiculous hour. But it was the same person who'd told him he was going to get a splinter by walking around barefoot in the first place. Newt absolutely refused to swallow his pride and deal with that smug, 'i told you so, you idiotic little man' look on Hermann's face.
He would deal with it tomorrow. He got up, took a step, and barely bit beck a yelp. All of his attempts to remove the splinter had irritated it even further. There was no way he was going to be able to ignore it and go back to sleep. He allowed himself a single childish whine before turning and limping towards the door of his quarters. Hermann wasn't that far away, and the man was usually awake insanely early so he could have his tea and properly awaken before heading into the lab.
Newt tried at least 6 times to talk himself out of asking for help in the 5 or so minutes it took him to get to Hermann's quarters, and all 6 times he gave up and kept moving. He was still warring with himself when he made it to the big metal door, hand raising to deliver a series of quiet knocks. Part of him hoped Hermann was actually asleep. The rest of him desperately wanted help.
Time stretched on for what felt like several minutes, and Newt began to think that Hermann really was still asleep. He made a frustrated noise and turned, but nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sudden sound of Hermann's door creaking open. "Newton, what on earth are you doing awake at this hour?" Hermann was watching him with a mixture of accusation and concern, fingers clutching a steaming mug. He was even in his robe, and Newton felt for a breif moment that he'd disturbed his grandfather at an early hour. He shook the thought away and battled an inappropriate grin.
"Well, uh, I was hoping you couuulllddd....help me with something." The last words shot out of his mouth; he wanted to take them back, save his pride and turn around and pretend he'd never been here. Hermann, however, was having none of that. He stepped aside, opening the door wider and shuffling back into his quarters to set down his mug.
"I'm assuming it's something important if you're showing up at three in the morning," He lowered himself into a chair at his desk as Newton wandered in and shut the door behind him. Hermann's quarters were, as usual, impeccably clean.
A place for everything, and everything in it's place, or whatever it was Hermann had said the first time Newt had commented on it.
"I wouldn't really say it's super important, but it's definitely something I can't do alone, because believe me I have tried and I wouldn't be here at all if I'd managed to do it myself, because I know you're going to give me that 'I told you so' speech and--"
"Newton, please, just spit it out!" Hermann interrupted him, annoyance coloring his tone. He rarely dealt well with Newt's 'rambling', and he certainly wasn't awake enough for it right now. The outburst seemed to cow the biologist just a little, his mouth snapping shut before he averted his gaze.
"Okay. But don't do that 'I told you so' thing that you do when you know you're--"
"Newton."
"Right, okay. I got a splinter." He got directly to the point, and wasn't disappointed; Hermann immediately raised both eyebrows.
"I told you--"
"Hermann, please!"
"...Very well. Let me see it." Hermann scooted his chair closer, motioning for Newton to sit on the bed so that he could take a look. Newt sat himself down, raising the foot to rest on the opposite knee and pointing to the big red blotch he'd obviously been messing with.
Hermann tutted, mouth pressing into a thin line. "You shouldn't have messed with it so much, Newton, it looks terrible. Hold still. I'll be back in a moment." He pushed himself up, leaning heavily on his cane before shuffling into the connected bathroom.
There was the sound of running water, and Newt breathed a sigh of relief; he'd expected much worse of a reaction than this. At least Hermann had agreed to help him and wasn't being combative about it. Though, now Newt thought about it, he'd perhaps been assuming the worst out of anxiety rather than experience. Hermann wasn't mean, at least not without reason.
He was interrupted from his thoughts when the physicist lowered himself back into the chair before him, handing over a hot, damp cloth. "Press this to the affected area. It will help make it easier to remove." Of course. A compress. Why hadn't Newt thought of that? He did as he was told, feeling a bit awkward once the cloth was in place. They both waited for several seconds in silence, before it started to get overwhelming for Newt.
"So, uh, what were you doing before I started pestering you?" Newt wanted to hit himself immediately after asking, though Hermann seemed unphased by the awkward delivery of the question.
"I was catching up on some reading. It's much easier to do in the morning before all the noise and responsibilities come knocking. I'm assuming this is the reason you're awake." He gestured to the splinter, and Newton nodded sheepishly.
"I uh. Guess I'll have to wear shoes when I go outside from now on." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Hermann. He could hear the other man rolling his eyes.
"I don't tell you things just to be a pest, you know. I'm not trying to lord anything over you. I just want to prevent situations such as the one you're currently in. I..." He faltered, and Newt chanced a look at him. Hermann sighed.
"I am not good at these sorts of things, but I do care about you. I wish you'd be more careful, not because I think your lack of personal concern is annoying, but because I do not want you to get hurt." He said, matter-of-factly. Newton could feel the back of his neck getting warm; he cleared his throat.
"T-thanks, dude. I really appreciate it." He fumbled a little, suddenly feeling as though he were taking up too much space, there was no getting out from under Hermann's gaze. He grappled with this new information... but, was it really new? He'd known, of course, that Hermann cared, but having it spelled out before him was different. "The feeling's mutual." He mumbled, though loud enough for Hermann to hear. The man actually smiled.
"Here, let me see that now." Hermann reached forward, tugging the cloth away from Newt and inspecting his foot. He could actually see the splinter now. He seemed satisfied, and turned to open a desk drawer. He removed what looked suspiciously like a beauty kit, as well as a small pack of sewing needles and some alcohol wipes.
"Jeez, are you performing surgery or what?" Newt asked, nervous laughter coloring his tone. Hermann didn't look impressed, choosing to ignore him and tear open an alcohol wipe. He used it to sanitize the tender spot on Newt's foot, earning him a wince for his trouble.
"You're going to want to hold completely still. I know you're incapable of that, but pretend for a moment that you aren't." Newt managed an eye roll, choosing to look away. He wasn't squeamish or anything, totally not, he dug around in alien guts for a living, for god's sake. But for some reason when it came to his own body he had... a little bit of anxiety. He didn't do well with things like shots, or putting contacts in, or getting cuts. He definitely didn't whimper when he felt the point of the needle graze against his foot, pause, and then continue it's work. If Hermann had heard it, he didn't acknowledge it. It was mere moments later (That felt like hours to Newton himself) when the physicist made a satisfied sound. "Alright, Newton, you are free. Would you like a band-aid?"
Newt hadn't even realized he'd been squeezing his eyes shut until they flew open. "That's it? You got it?" He blinked down at the splinter's previous location, either the lack of irritant or the sheer joy of being free of the damn thing already causing the pain to ebb away.
"Yes. It was a near impossible challenge, I hope you can forgive the long hours it took me to accomplish." Was...was that sarcasm? Newt barked a laugh, which dissolved into relieved giggles.
"Nice joke, Herms-- I mean, Hermann," Newt felt the heat returning to his face, "Also, yeah, a bandaid would be great." He tried to brush off the nickname, and Hermann seemed to want to do the same; either the lighting was messing with Newt's vision, or the other man's face was a light pink.
"Alright. I'll be back shortly." The physicist once again disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a single bandage and handing it to the biologist. Newt tore it open, momentarily startled at the cartoon planets printed onto the plastic. He didn't manage to suppress a grin, but kept his mouth shut as he carefully applied the bandaid to the irritated skin. It wouldn't heal it, but it would protect it from the inside of his shoe later.
"You should try to get a little more sleep before the day begins," Hermann took the bandage wrapper from him and tossed it into a nearby bin. "....If you would like, we could get breakfast together when the mess opens." The physicist wasn't looking Newton in the eyes, seemingly quite focused on his forgotten tea. Newt broke out into a grin.
"Sure! Maybe they'll have some of those crunchy pancakes you like so much."
"They've got toasted flax seeds in them, Newton, they're not just 'crunchy pancakes.'"
"...They're crunchy pancakes. Anyways, I'm going to hit the hay. I'll see you later." The smile Newt offered was warm and successfully squashed the rest of Hermann's arguments.
"Of course. Good night, Newton."
Once Newton was gone, Hermann returned to his now lukewarm tea. The easy conversation left him feeling warm. Perhaps soon enough he'd have the confidence to tell the insufferable biologist how he felt.