Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

For the third day in a row, Hermann entered the laboratory, only to find it empty. Needless to say, it was a complete disaster. There were old mechanical parts strewn across the floor - castoffs from Newton’s ersatz neural interface - yellow line of demarcation be damned. Newton still had kaiju parts sitting on his worktop in transportation containers that were rapidly running out of freon.

Hermann sniffed and carefully picked his way across the laboratory, careful not to slip on any effluvia or trip over any detritus.

His side of the lab, though absent of anything that was likely in the primary stages of autolysis, was also in disarray. Piles of scratch paper had fallen over, leaving sheets scattered on the floor, covered in shoe prints. A half-drunk cup of milky Earl Grey had formed a skin in a mug by his console.

The lab was quiet. It was disconcerting.

The machines running the modelling software had all gone silent. For the first time in ten years, they weren’t needed.

The relative silence was not eerie. It was just…

Disconcerting.

Most glaringly obvious in their absence were Newton’s incessant vocal ruminations about his thought process and his varied exclamations of excitement or frustration (and sometimes it was hard to discern which was which). There was no obnoxious 2000s ‘post grunge’ (whatever that was) playing, nor were there the sickening sounds of kaiju body parts being dissected or otherwise rended with bone-saws and other ghoulish implements. And of course, there was no arguing about the merits and pitfalls of their own and each other’s research and life’s work.

Hermann had not seen Newton since they had both been sent to medical three days prior, the day the war clock stopped.

Where the hell was he?!

***

After the breach had closed, the Hong Kong Shatterdome had exploded into disbelieving, grief-tinged celebration. Hermann had never felt such catharsis in his life before. The intense relief, gratitude, and (dare he admit it) pride were thrown into stark relief by the losses they had faced.

He had not even begun to process his grief.

He of course had suffered losses before in his time with the PPDC. Everyone had, as was the case when you were on the frontline of a war. But the magnitude of their sacrifice had not yet sunk in.

Marshall Hansen (and just there - a reminder of the magnitude of the loss - the man had already seemed to have aged a decade since that morning, pain lining his features) had allowed Hermann and Newton an hour’s worth of celebration before issuing them an order to report to medical. Though Hermann was not happy about the prospect of spending the rest of his night in what was effectively a hospital room, he understood the necessity. He and Newton, after all, had drifted with a kaiju brain. Using a PONS interface cobbled together from garbage.

During their hour of shared celebration and condolences, Hermann had stuck close to Newton’s side. Part of it was because crowds had always overwhelmed him, and Newton, erratic as he was, was a familiar constant. Part of it was because it helped with the effects of drift bleed.

He had heard the Rangers talk about it regularly, and of course he had read all of Dr. Lightcap’s scientific papers on the phenomenon. But nothing could prepare him for what he was experiencing at that moment.

(The intensity of it was probably also exacerbated by the fact that he and Newton had drifted with a Kaiju brain. Flashes of the horrors that lay in the Anteverse were still appearing on the backs of his eyelids when he closed his eyes for any longer than a millisecond. But the kaiju brain had died or had been destroyed, and so thankfully the bleed was not as strong.

With Newton, however…)

He could feel Newton’s energy beside him, there was no other way to put it, as unscientific as it sounded. The joy, the sense of triumph, of relief, all swirling together in a container that was just barely keeping itself from shaking apart.

How many days since he had last slept? Hermann had wondered as the two of them were approached by several friends and colleagues to exchange celebratory hugs, condolences, and stories of the day. Hermann had let Newt do most of the talking, to the surprise of no one. Hermann did have to interject a few times to explain the modelling of the triple event and his perspective on what he saw in the drift with the kaiju brain, but mostly he was content to allow space for Newton’s wild storytelling and grandiose gesticulating.

He couldn’t help but smile at his partner, his eyes flitting downward whenever Newton’s gaze inevitably caught his own.

Yes, he was feeling his own feelings, of course, but there thrumming right alongside was Newton, everything inside of him. The excitement, the joy, but then -

Hermann caught something dark in the bleed.

Just a sliver of it, just for a moment, but there. He saw Newton’s smile falter as he was listening to Tendo describing Gipsy Danger’s foray into the Throat. Hermann looked down and noticed Newt’s hand clenching and unclenching.

Hermann turned towards Newton, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the crowd slightly. Newton looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“Newton, are you quite alright?” Hermann asked, out of earshot of the others.

Newton laughed weakly and rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” He clasped Hermann’s shoulders in both hands and gave him a little shake, the gesture jarring in the face of Hermann’s concept of personal space. “We’re rockstars, dude!”

Newton’s left eye was still ringed red, and he looked haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes, his nostril was still encrusted in blood, his shirt and jacket were ruined, and he looked as if he was barely holding it together. Hermann felt as if he could feel Newton’s brain activity like static buzzing in his own frontal lobe.

Clocking something in Hermann’s expression (or, perhaps, Newt was just picking up on something in Hermann’s mental or emotional state), Newton’s smile began to fade.

“When was the last time you slept?” Hermann asked softly.

Newton barked out another laugh, more forced than the last. “I dunno, maybe like… Tuesday? Wait, what day is it today?”

Hermann scowled and was just about to chastise him, but it was just then that they were approached by Marshall Hansen, with the directive to go to medical for a full neurological and physical assessment.

Newton had groaned dramatically and Hermann had given a pert, “Yes, sir!” Before practically dragging Newton by his ripped jacket cuff down the hallway.

The medical team had also had their celebrations cut short, but they did not seem put out by the fact that they were still needed at that hour. They had separated Hermann and Newton and over the course of the next three hours, conducted a battery of assessments, including CT scans, blood draws, and neurological assessments. They were kept overnight for observation, and typically Hermann would have insisted on being able to return to his quarters, but between the post-drift hangover, the dull throbbing in his leg, and the general exhaustion, as soon as his head hit the pillow on his hospital bed, he was dead to the world.

The next day, he had been cleared to leave in the morning, while Newton was kept for further tests. Hermann had returned to the lab to find an order waiting for him from Marshall Hansen on his console. Apparently he and Newton had two weeks to write a full report, backup all of their files, consolidate their possessions, request storage for whatever equipment they could make an argument for, and decommission whatever they could not. Newton, to be sure, would also have orders to properly dispose of or store his kaiju specimens.

He was sure he would see him in the lab later that afternoon, or at the latest, the following morning.

***

But that morning had come and gone, as had another.

The post-victory revelry had just started to die down in the Shatterdome, and work was once again resuming. It was strange that such a momentous occasion would happen, and that later people would still need to engage in such mundanities as doing paperwork and brushing their teeth.

Hermann sighed and began his file backup. It made sense for Newton to have been kept at medical longer than he had been, but surely he should have been discharged by now.

Unless… something was wrong with him.

Hermann huffed at this line of thinking. There was nothing he could do. Either Newton had been discharged, and he was fine; or he had not been, and he was getting the care he needed. Either way there was nothing Hermann could do about it.

He pushed down the little tendril of worry in his stomach and attempted to focus on his work.

He spent about an hour attempting to write his report, starting with the moment he had found Newton seizing on the ground connected to a pile of garbage and a kaiju brain fragment. He had not had a chance to breathe, let alone do paperwork, since then.

As he wrote, he recalled the moment with clarity - the abject fear that he had felt at the sight of his labmate (friend) convulsing, blood pouring out of his nose. Hermann left his emotions out of his report, sticking to the bare facts. But he could not shake the image of Newton’s limp form from his mind’s eye for some time.

(Truth be told, it was the knowledge of the toll that the first drift took on Newton that had compelled Hermann to offer to share the neural load on the second drift. But that wasn’t going in the report either.)

He worked for about another hour, going back and forth between backing up files and pecking away at the report, periodically glancing up at the lab door, expecting Newton to barrel in at any moment.

But still, nothing.

Hermann began to grow frustrated. Yes, that’s what it was - frustration. Not worry. He knew that Newton was likely recovering from a greater deal of neurological stress than he was, but if he had in fact been discharged, and was just faffing about, leaving Hermann with the report and the organization of their lab space was unacceptable. And God knew that Hermann would not be going anywhere near the kaiju specimens.

After another twenty minutes of trying to reword the same line over and over, he grumbled, retrieved his cane, got to his feet, and marched out of the lab.

He stomped down the hallway with his characteristic loping, cane-assisted gait, a scowl pressed into his features. He was allowing himself to simmer into a strop, he knew - but it was warranted! Who was Newton to leave Hermann with the paperwork, the cleanup, when most of the mess was his in the first place -

Turning the corner into the hall with their quarters, Hermann felt something strange.

It was as if that hallway was somehow… darker. Obscured. Though there was no visible change in lighting. Odd.

A creeping sensation of anxiety started to wedge itself in alongside his annoyance.

The closer he got to the door to Newton’s quarters, the worse the feeling became. By the time he was outside of Newton’s door, he had broken out into a light sweat. There was a feeling in his chest that reminded him, horrifically, of the morning he had woken up after his hip surgery in his teens.

He paused with his hand on Newton’s door.

What is wrong with you? You’re so fucked up. How could you be feeling this way? You’re sick.

Hermann shook his head, blinking rapidly. The feeling was familiar, but…

Those weren’t his thoughts. Were they?

He somehow knew that Newton was in his room, and whatever state he was in, it was not good.

Hermann pounded on the door. “Newton!” He barked, trying his hardest to school his voice from belying the unease that he felt. “Open up! Orders from the Marshall!”

No answer. Just silence.

“Newton!” He yelled, rapping on the door sharply with his cane.

Nothing.

Hermann glanced to and fro down the hallway. Just the usual occasional foot traffic. He couldn’t tell how much of what he was feeling was the drift bleed, and how much of it was his own anxiety and worry about Newton. Either way, he knew that something was wrong, and that he needed to do something about it.

He hurried as fast as he could to LOCCENT, where he found Tendo and Marshall Hansen poring over data from the jaegers’ last encounter with the kaiju. Hermann felt a lump form in his throat as he noticed that the schematics for Cherno Alpha’s reactor were pulled up on the screen. It appeared as if Sasha and Aleksis had died in the explosion, rather than being crushed or drowned.

What passed for small mercies, these days.

Tendo looked up from the console as he noticed Hermann approach them. “Hey Dr. Gottleib,” he greeted, smile quickly sliding off his face as he noticed Hermann’s distress. “What -”

“It’s Newton,” Hermann blurted, leaning heavily on his cane. “I haven’t seen him since medical. He was discharged, correct?”

Marshall Hansen nodded. “Yeah, two days ago.”

Hermann’s heart sank. “I think he’s locked in his room, he won’t answer his door.” His eyes flicked between Tendo and the Marshall. Hermann knew that Tendo was well aware of Newton’s tendencies and mental health status, but he wasn’t sure how aware the Marshall was. Hermann didn’t want to overstep and share something that he shouldn’t with a commanding officer.

Luckily, Tendo caught on to what Hermann was alluding to. With a word of apology to the Marshall, Tendo pulled Hermann out into the hallway.

“Is it bad?” Tendo asked, nervously fidgeting with his bowtie.

Hermann heaved a sigh and shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Though prior to the breach closing I’d be surprised if he got more than three hours sleep cumulatively over three days. He was single-minded in his efforts. He was moving and talking and thinking so rapidly, he was hard to follow at times. He was also impulsive. I haven’t seen him like that since -”

“You two were fighting for the survival of K-Sci during the Wall of Life project. I remember.”

“Precisely.”

Hermann recalled that time. It was the previous year, when he and Newton were watching helplessly as funding kept on dwindling from K-Science - colleague after colleague let go, Shatterdome after Shatterdome decommissioned. He and Newton were working incessantly to find some sort of breakthrough that would spell the survival of their program. Newton had not slept for three days, and Hermann had watched as his mania had ticked higher and higher, his behaviour and thought process growing more and more erratic. That episode had led to the invention of Newton’s kaiju endocrine “milking machine”, and culminated in a depressive episode that lasted for two weeks, before Hermann had finally bit the bullet and alerted Marshall Pentecost and the medical team. It probably did not help Newton’s depression that after all of their efforts, K-Science was still gutted.

“We better go check on him,” Tendo said.

Tendo sourced an all-access key card from the head of Shatterdome security. It took some Choi-branded charm to convince the security officer to allow Tendo and Hermann to intervene unaccompanied.

The two men approached Newton’s door, and Hermann felt the dark sensation creeping up on him with every footfall.

They paused in front of the door. Tendo glanced at Hermann, steeled himself, and knocked.

“Newt? Buddy? It’s Tendo and Hermann, can you open the door?”

Silence.

The two men looked at each other gravely, Tendo with worry and Hermann with both worry and exasperation.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Hermann said under his breath, and rapped his cane sharply against the door. “Newton Geizsler! Open the door this instant, or I’m coming in!”

Silence. Then, faintly through the door…

“Go away!”

Tendo chuckled, relieved, and Hermann rolled his eyes, hiding his own relief behind an incredulous expression.

“Newton,” Hermann sighed, “We have responsibilities. You can’t just lock yourself up in your room and leave me to organize and dispose of everything in the lab! If you don’t open the door right now I’m going to throw all of your kaiju specimens in the disposal unit!”

More silence. Then…

“I don’t care. Just go away.”

Tendo’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced at Hermann, shocked. Hermann’s mouth twisted up as he weighed his options.

Option One: He could just leave, and make good on his threat to dispose of Newton’s specimens. But, as difficult as it was to admit out loud, that would mean a squandered opportunity for further valuable research on Newton’s part. Plus, Newton would probably crucify him when he did eventually emerge from his room. Furthermore, it would leave Newton in what was undoubtedly a depressive state for who knew how long. And as much as Hermann was loath to admit it, he wasn’t so cold as to believe for one second that he was fine with leaving Newton in such a state. In fact, the more he stood there pondering, the greater the intensity of his worry became.

So, then, Option Two: He could open the door.

Sighing, Hermann held his hand out for the key card.

“I’ll handle this,” Hermann said, straightening his spine with resolve.

“You sure?”

Hermann nodded curtly.

Tendo shrugged and placed the key card in Hermann’s hand. “If you need anything, I’ll be in LOCCENT. Just message me or call.”

Hermann straightened further, if that was possible. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

Tendo’s expression changed into something disturbingly warm and knowing. “You’re right, if anyone can help him through this, it’s you.” And with that, he took a couple steps backwards, smirking at Hermann’s flummoxed expression, and turned off down the hall.

Hermann fiddled with the keycard for a minute, turning it over and over in his hand. As much as he was reluctant to invade Newton’s privacy, he knew from experience that when Newton was in a low period, it was very difficult for him to get out of it without some sort of intervention. Hermann could feel the black mood through the door, rolling over him in waves. It felt horrible, like a big wormhole had opened inside of his chest and was sucking in the light around him. If this was what he was feeling, Hermann could only imagine what Newton was feeling.

He steeled himself and knocked one more time.

“Newton, this is your last chance. Open this door or I am coming in.”

Nothing .

Hermann heaved a great sigh, and then swiped the key card, opening the door.

“What the hell, man?!”

Newt shrieked at Hermann from his bed. He was sat up, illuminated only by the wedge of light coming from the open door. He was staring daggers at Hermann, and Hermann felt threads of red-hot anger weave through the blackness of the drift bleed.

Hermann let the door slam behind him.

Hermann contemplated the overhead light for a moment, before finding some modicum of mercy in himself. He stomped over to Newton’s desk - which was littered with empty energy drink cans, coffee cups, anatomical drawings and random scribblings - and flicked on the lamp.

He turned on his heel towards Newton, with every intention of giving him a piece of his mind.

To say Newton looked terrible would be an understatement. He was still wearing his blood- and grime- encrusted clothing. He was still somehow absolutely filthy, and his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. His left pupil still had a corona of blood around it. His skin looked grey. The room smelled like old sweat and stale breath.

Newton likely read the look on Hermann’s face, as Hermann felt a spike of hot shame crackle through the drift bleed. Newton groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes.

“Save your fucking pity, man,” he croaked. “I can feel it through the drift. It’s making me sick.”

Hermann stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes, of course, it’s my pity making you sick, and not the fact that you are crashing down from a manic episode after drifting with a kaiju - twice - and saving the bloody world.” Hermann pushed the small pile of garbage and notes off of Newton’s desk chair unceremoniously and sat down.

Newton rubbed his eyes and grabbed his hair, tugging it fiercely. Hermann was expecting a vicious retort, and was surprised at the feeble tone of Newton’s response.

“That’s… not...”

Hermann felt all the anger and indignance present in the drift bleed seconds earlier get swallowed up in what felt like tar. Snatches of frantic thoughts bubbled up from the blackness.

God, don’t - not here, not in front of him -

Newton buried his head in his arms and hugged his knees. “Please, Hermann, just leave me alone,” he pleaded.

Hermann did not consider himself a sentimental man, and often steered away from the overuse of metaphors, finding them to be imprecise and vague at the best of times.

But in that moment, his heart broke.

“Newton…” he started, not sure of what to say. He cautiously wheeled the chair a little closer. “Have you been able to sleep?”

A sardonic laugh escaped the balled-up Newton.

“Not really,” he said. “This is sort of the worst part. The speed is still there, but it’s all…”

As he trailed off, Hermann felt a sensation of pins and needles behind his forehead. Monstrous faces formed in the static, emerging and fading as rapidly as images in smoke.

Hermann made a sound of understanding, though he wasn’t sure if he did, not fully.

“Have you eaten anything? Had any water?”

Newton shook his head in his arms. “Can’t,” he said.

“Why not?”

Newton heaved a shuddering sigh and shook his head. “Feel sick.”

Hermann got up, retrieving an old coffee cup from Newton’s desk. He went to the bathroom, rinsed it out, and filled it with water. He was about to head back, when on second thought he paused, and opened Newt’s medicine cabinet. Both pill bottles were there, practically full. He shook out one pill out of each bottle and put them in his pocket.

Hermann returned to Newt’s side, sat down in the chair, and offered him the water. “Can you try to drink this?”

Newton’s head shot up. “Why do you even care?!” He spat. “Oh yeah, because I’m not pulling my weight in cleaning up the lab, right. I’m so fucking sorry. Just shovel all my shit to my side of the line of demarcation and I’ll deal with it later. Or they can put it in storage, throw it out, I don’t give a shit.” With that, he buried his head in his arms again.

Hermann did roll his eyes at that, placing the water on the desk with a thunk. “Are you hearing yourself?” He asked. “After all the effort and idiocy that went into retrieving your samples, you’re just going to let them go to waste?”

Newton laughed again, a harsh, bitter sound. “What’s the point of keeping them, anyways? Hermann, they’re gone.”

“What do you mean, gone? I just told you, they’re sitting on your -”

“Not the samples, you - Hermann, they’re gone.”

A wave of what felt like grief rolled through the drift bleed, followed by a spear of shame and loathing.

Hermann’s eyes widened. He chose his next words very carefully.

“Newton… Are you upset that the kaiju are gone?”

Newton’s head shot up again, his eyes wild. “What the fuck do you care?!” He yelled, making Hermann flinch. “They’re gone, Hermann. And yeah, okay, fuck it, here I am, feeling sad about it. How messed up is that?” Hermann’s heart sank as Newton’s voice wavered, his lip trembling. “How fucking fucked up is that?” Newton buried his head in his arms again, but not before Hermann saw his eyes starting to well up.

Waves of sadness intermingled with self-loathing beat against Hermann’s heart like a storm against a cabin door.

He took a breath and almost began to retort, when he paused.

In his reading about drift after-effects, Hermann had learned that emotional and physical-chemical states were the most likely candidates for crossover, though thoughts and images were not off the table either. He also knew that the connection went both ways, and that it was strengthened in moments of meditation, especially in close proximity to one’s drift partner.

With all the concentration he could muster, he focused on his own emotional and physical-chemical state. Though he was not an experienced meditator, he had in the past tried to use it to manage the pain in his leg. He closed his eyes and turned his attention inward.

He felt the sense of grief for his comrades, the sense of relief at the world not ending…

And the sense of fear of the unknown for the future. The sense of loss at the focus of his life for the past ten years being gone.

He focused on these feelings and images the best he could, and he imagined projecting them in a beam that moved out from his chest into Newton.

As his thoughts turned towards Newton, feelings of intense frustration and exasperation re-emerged, which wasn’t new.

However, also unbidden, came feelings of fondness, of worry, of empathy, and greatest of all, of care. An image of taking his hand in his own.

Hermann’s eyes snapped open as he tried to push these away, but it was too late.

Newton slowly raised his head, squinting at Hermann.

“What… What are you doing? Are you doing that?”

Hermann sighed, and thought for a moment about what he wanted to say. He tried to force himself to make eye contact with Newton but found he could not, so he focused on a spot on the wall about six inches above his head, instead.

“Newton, I never understood your fascination with the kaiju. Your feelings towards them have always disturbed and at times angered me. I have felt at times that your feelings towards them were unhealthy.”

Newton scoffed. “Yeah. I get it. I’m fucked up. Did you just come here to -”

“I never understood you,” Hermann barreled on, “Until recently.”

Newton’s mouth dropped open.

“Number one: I have been inside your head. I know that you don’t love the kaiju, per se. What I do know is that you do have a respect and reverence for them as beings of otherworldly magnificence and might, and of course as a source of rigorous investigative study. As beings of immense terror and beauty, much like a hurricane or a comet.”

Newt’s jaw clicked shut.

“Number two: I, too, drifted with a kaiju. What I saw in those visions was the most horrifying, and yet the most fantastic thing I had ever seen. Another world! Who would not be intrigued by such things?”

At this, Newt’s head lifted up a little further. He gulped visibly and nodded.

“Number three: Like you, I find myself feeling… Bereft? At a loss? Now that the war is over. Newton, we have spent the last ten years of our lives focused on the kaiju, on the breach, on the war. Modelling and understanding the breach has been my reason for living for the past decade. Of course I’m feeling a sense of loss. It hasn’t even fully hit me yet, I’m sure. It’s a sort of grief in and of itself.”

Newton’s eyes welled up and tears began to stream down his face. Hermann forced himself to make eye contact with Newton. He owed him that, at least.

“Number four: I have no idea what life looks like after this. Is there a place for K-Science in this brave new world? Is my work even relevant anymore?” Hermann laughed sadly and shook his head. “I must say, when I think of what the next few days, weeks, will look like… It’s hard to imagine anything other than continuing the work, of being in the lab, here.” With you, he thought silently, finally dropping his eyes to his hands, which were fiddling with the handle of his cane.

In the silence that ensued, Hermann feared that he had gone too far. What on earth had compelled him to show his hand like that?

After a moment, however, Newton sighed and uncurled himself. He sat cross-legged, his back bowed, and picked at the comforter on his lap. He sniffled, and Hermann’s heart broke open even further.

“You don’t have to…” Newt began, and then faltered. “Hermann, you’re not like me. I’m not normal.”

Hermann scoffed, but Newt continued.

“You feel a sense of loss, sure, but dude, I’m going to miss them.” He looked up at Hermann, the tears freely flowing now. “How fucked up is that? What’s wrong with me? Sasha, Aleksis, the Weis, Chuck, the Marshall, they’re all dead! Mako and Raleigh almost died, they risked their lives to end them! And I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself that the kaiju are gone? What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

Newton sobbed pitifully, placing his face in his hands. Hermann felt the self-hatred rolling off of him and he had to choke down tears himself at the vulnerable display.

Against all instincts for self-preservation or personal space, he got up and gingerly sat down on the side of Newt’s bed. If Newt noticed, he gave no indication. Carefully, Hermann placed a shaking hand on Newt’s shoulder. He felt him jerk away but Hermann just tightened his grip.

This is what people did when others were suffering, was it not? Offer a shoulder to cry on?

With excruciating slowness, and a tenderness that was even surprising to himself, he pulled Newton into him.

At first, Newt resisted, stiffening. But after a few seconds, he relented, and allowed himself to be held, collapsing against Hermann’s chest. Hermann’s cane clattered to the ground as he turned more fully towards Newton and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. Newton clenched his fists in the front of Hermann’s cardigan and sobbed into his shoulder. The closeness and contact intensified the drift bleed, and Hermann’s eyes did well up as he felt the immensity of the darkness inside Newton attempt to swallow them both. All he could do was focus on his own feelings of empathy, of understanding, of care, of love.

His eyes snapped open.

Oh god.

Love.

But was it… no, it wasn’t a familial love, or the love of brothers in arms.

It was…

Good Lord.

He was in love with Newton Geiszler.

Once the seed had been planted, it could not help but grow. And damned if Hermann did not want to water that seed, once he knew that it was there. The thoughts and emotions came with a rush, barreling through him with the force of a seedling erupting from concrete.

You’re okay. I’ve got you. I love you. God help me, I love you.

He felt Newton’s breath hitch, as he must have caught on to at least some of Hermann’s emotional state, even while warring with his own. He gripped Newton impossibly tighter, soothing one hand down his back, trying his best to be a calming force in the face of Newton’s sobbing and shaking apart.

“Breathe, Newt,” Hermann said, continuing with the soothing stroking along Newton’s back. “Breathe with me.” He took measured and steady breaths, willing Newton to follow him.

He breathed deeply for a few minutes, closing his eyes, focusing on providing the tactile cue that Newton needed to calm himself. After a while, Newton’s sobs eventually shuddered to a stop, and he began to heave great hitching sighs against Hermann’s chest.

“There’s a lad,” Hermann said, stroking Newton’s hair, now. “Keep breathing.”

Hermann closed his eyes as he felt Newton’s body finally relax, his breath falling into time with his own. He was finally able to savour the feeling of Newton against him, the sturdiness of his frame, his fists gripping tightly into the front of Hermann’s cardigan. Slowly, Newton’s fingers uncurled from the fabric. Hermann was already lamenting Newton’s pulling back, but to his surprise, Newton’s hands crept around Hermann’s sides, and he wrapped his arms around Hermann’s waist. He felt Newton’s hands clench in the back of his sweater, and Hermann gasped. He moved one of his hands to cup the nape of Newton’s neck, the other pressed between his shoulder blades, and he pulled him chest-to-chest. Newton scooted forwards so that he was leaning into Hermann fully. He could feel Newton’s heart thundering under his ribcage, and the feeling shocked him to stillness. He could not recall a time in his life ever having been closer to another human being.

Involuntarily, Hermann dropped his head to the crook of Newton’s neck, and squeezed his eyes shut, overcome with emotion.

God, is this what it’s like?

The feeling was indescribable. He felt like he and Newton were in a bubble of shimmering light, that the light between them had grown into something alive that surrounded and protected them both.

The two breathed in tandem for a full minute, and Newton’s tears finally subsided.

Neither one of them wanted to break the moment, but after a minute, Newton took a final deep breath and raised his head.

For a moment he just looked at Hermann through red-rimmed eyes. His gaze flicked between each of Hermann’s eyes as he struggled to comprehend the tender gesture.

Finally, Newt chuckled, and broke his gaze. “Man, I must smell terrible. And I got snot all over your sweater.”

Hermann laughed, happy and surprised. Humour from Newton was a good sign. He even felt the mood in the room starting to brighten, like a light was slowly being turned on in the darkness. He pulled back reluctantly and dropped his arms. He glanced over at his shoulder and wrinkled his nose at the wet spot. “You certainly do. And yes, it appears that you have.”

Newton chuckled out a sigh and dropped his own arms. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and looked sheepishly up at Hermann. “So, does this mean you don’t think I’m fucked in the head?”

Hermann huffed. “I think you’re erratic, impulsive, and that many of your ideas are untenable. I also think you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met, and that you care deeply for humanity and those around you. I also think you’re coming down from a manic episode and that your feelings right now are being coloured by your depression. When was the last time you took your medication?”

Newton scowled at Hermann, but then his face softened and he rubbed his eyes. “I can’t actually remember.”

Hermann got up and retrieved the water from the desk and pills from his pocket. He silently held both out to Newt.

Newton sighed. “I hate taking these sometimes. They make me all… slow.”

Hermann nodded. “Yes, they slow you down, but even rockets have a terminal velocity. If there was ever a time for you to slow down, it’s now.”

Newton visibly warred with himself, before relenting. He grabbed the white tablet and the water from Hermann. “I’ll take this one now,” He said. “The other one’s for morning.” He rolled the white pill around in his palm for a few seconds, glaring at it, before knocking it back with a gulp of water. He must have realized how thirsty he was, as he finished the water in three gulps.

Hermann placed the other pill on Newton’s bedside table and picked up his cane. He went to refill the water and placed the cup down on the bedside table as well.

“How’s this,” Hermann began, “I’m going to go get us something from the commissary. You’ll have a shower and change, and we’ll have something to eat before you rest.”

Newton rolled his eyes, but a fond smile quirked up the corner of his lips. Hermann knew that Newt hated getting directions from anyone, least of all Hermann. But given the circumstances he seemed more amenable. “Yes, mother,” he said.

Hermann smiled softly and turned towards the door. Newton scooted to the edge of his bed, throwing his legs over the edge. As Hermann was about to leave, he heard Newton speak up, quietly.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

Hermann turned around slowly, one hand on the door handle. He couldn’t school his expression around the warm look he knew was on his face. “Do I really have a choice?”

Newt laughed, standing up slowly. “Okay, get out of here. I want ramen. The spicy one. With an -”

“An egg in it, I know, you impatient brat.”

The two smiled awkwardly (fondly?) at one another before Hermann spun on his heel, opened the door, and slipped into the hall.

***

The walk to the commissary was punctuated with an internal monologue of -

OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod

- as Hermann loped down the hallway.

He was in love with Newton. There was no way around it. He had never been in love before, but he knew it as deeply as he knew he loved Euler’s constant - it was a deeply mysterious, beautiful, and awe-inspiring phenomenon, a ubiquitous presence in the world. It had always been there, and just now had he discovered it and learned its significance.

Oh God!

Luckily (unluckily?) the commissary line was short, and he picked up his tray, moving automatically.

What did it mean? Was it just the effects of almost dying? Of the drift?

Even as these questions surfaced, he dismissed them: He had been in love with Newton for years. It just took the drift and Newt’s distress to shake the feelings loose.

He allowed himself to think on Newton, finally, without schooling his thoughts. His heart swelled with fond exasperation, with a fierce protectiveness, with frustrated awe, respect, gratitude…

He recalled their earliest correspondence, the letters they had exchanged. The intimacy that was kindled, even then. The days he had spent fantasising about him. What colour would his eyes be? What would his voice sound like? Would he be as charismatic and likeable in person? The sleepless nights leading up to their first meeting, at a conference in Copenhagen.

The disastrousness of that first meeting, his indignation that such a brilliant mind could be housed in such an unprofessional and irreverent person.

(Even if that person was maddeningly, roguishly attractive.)

His face burned.

“Uh, Dr. Gottleib?”

Herman’s head snapped up. Theo, one of the commissary staff members, was looking at him with an odd expression.

“Yes?”

“What would you like today?”

Hermann collected his thoughts. “Uh, yes, two spicy ramen please, one with an egg cracked in, if I may.”

Theo smiled. “Ah, I see that Dr. Geizler is alive and well. I’m glad to hear it. We’ve been worried about him.”

Hermann looked at him, puzzled. “How did you -”

“You two always get this order after a late night working. The one with the egg is for Newt.”

Hermann blinked, flabbergasted, and Theo laughed. “You work in hospitality long enough, you get to learn things about people,” he said, and gave Hermann a wink. “It’s good to see you looking healthy as well, Doctor, and smiling, too.” He handed Hermann the food and turned to the next staff member in line.

Hermann carefully balanced the tray in one hand as he turned slowly and exited the cafeteria. Had he been smiling to himself, thinking about Newton? Oh god, how red was his face? This was madness.

Now that he had started thinking about Newton in this light, he couldn’t stop. He had never felt such excitement and nervousness mixed together before, even in all his experiments. He had always found Newton attractive (annoyingly so), and if he had had the odd sexual thought or dream about the man, who could blame him? But this was different. Now he allowed himself to revel in it, to savour the feeling. He thought of Newton’s attractive face, his freckles, his green-hazel eyes, his arms, how he looked in black jeans, how it felt to hold him, the tenderness he felt at Newton’s vulnerability, his beautiful flawed mind, all of it - he loved it all. Even his insolence, his argumentativeness - it was what had helped Hermann stay sharp and on top of his own work throughout their decade together. Every single late night, every single all-out screaming match, every single early morning that Hermann had found himself collapsed on the couch in the lab, surprised to find his coat thrown over him… It was overwhelming.

What was he going to do? Surely he couldn’t tell Newton how he felt, that was out of the question. He barely could admit it to himself. But surely Newton could tell how he was feeling through the drift? Oh god, what if he knew how Hermann felt, and was repulsed by it? What if he wasn’t even into men? What if the thought of Hermann having… feelings for him was unwelcome? What if -

All of a sudden he was in front of Newton’s door.

He prevaricated for a moment with his cane hand raised to knock.

He hesitated a little longer, for good measure.

He knocked.

The door swung open, and there stood a freshly-washed Newton, his drying hair fluffy and sticking up at all angles, eyes still puffy and red-rimmed, glasses cracked but wiped clean. He was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black Nine Inch Nails concert T-shirt which left his colourful, shapely arms on display. He smiled at Hermann lopsidedly, scratching the back of his neck, revealing a tiny sliver of his midriff, pale with tendrils of colour disappearing below his waistband.

God, Hermann was fucked.

“I could practically hear your gears grinding through the door,” Newton said, taking the tray from Hermann and retreating into his room.

Pushing some papers aside, Newton put the tray down on his desk. He picked up his ramen and chopsticks, and sat cross-legged at the edge of his bed. He gestured to the chair for Hermann to sit.

“Thank you,” Hermann said, and sat down.

Newt snorted. “Why are you thanking me? You’re the one who let me smear snot all over your sweater and then got me dinner.”

“It’s barely half three.”

“Lunch then, who cares?” Newt began to tuck into his noodles.

Hermann wanted to ask if Newt was feeling better, but clearly he was. He could feel it - Newt was scraped out, raw, and exhausted, but the black hole feeling was dissipating. He didn't need to ask. Instead he fell back on more familiar territory.

“Must you slurp your noodles like a koi fish sucking up algae?”

“Shows you what you know, this is proper noodle etiquette for a large portion of the world! Including in Hong Kong - you know, where we are right now?”

“Yes, well, I’ve seen Mako eat noodles many times, and she manages to make it endearing.”

“Oh come on, Hermann, you know I’m adorable.”

Hermann’s noodles slipped out of his chopsticks with an audible plop. Newt snickered.

Hermann felt his face burning and he said nothing, making another attempt at eating his noodles.

After a few moments of companionable (awkward?) silence, Newt spoke up again.

“So, how much work is there to do in the lab?”

“Oh, it's an absolute disaster. There’s scrap machinery everywhere and you have at least three storage containers with kaiju entrails in them still sitting on your worktop.”

“Ah shit, I forgot about those. Eh, they’ll keep for one more day. Those storage containers are used to making trans-Pacific flights. And the temp control in the lab is pretty good. I’ll deal with them tomorrow. Plus, I’m sure I could get my hands on more samples. We did just have a triple-event.”

“As predicted.”

“Yes, Hermann, as you predicted. I never congratulated you on that by the way. Don’t get a big head about it.”

Hermann couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of pride at Newt’s words. He cleared his throat.

“And, good job to you, too, Dr. Geiszler. If it weren’t for your impulsiveness and disregard for basic self-preservation, we would not be here today.”

Newton paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

“Oh my God, Hermann, did you just give me a compliment? Holy shit. Wait, wait, say that again, where’s my recorder?”

“Oh, stop it. I already called you brilliant once today, as if you’d forgotten.”

Newt ducked his head. “Oh yeah. I actually had forgotten. I wasn’t… I was a bit distracted. At that time. You know.”

Hermann finished with his food and set his bowl aside on the desk. He looked at Newton sincerely, but Newton wouldn’t meet his eye. “I am glad you’re feeling better, Newton,” Hermann said. “You… You worry me sometimes. The way you get. You don’t take care of yourself.”

Newton scoffed. “Oh come on, like you’re any better? You were right there with me, drifting with the kaiju, jumping in and out of helicopters, and running like a bat out of hell to get back to LOCCENT.”

Hermann grimaced. It was true - now that he had a moment of stillness, his leg was really starting to get to him. He involuntarily rubbed at his thigh before stopping himself. “Yes, well. I had other things on my mind.”

“Like saving the world.”

“Yes, and making sure you didn’t kill yourself.”

Newt stopped sipping his broth and lowered his bowl. “Aww, Hermann, if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you cared.”

Hermann grumbled. “Of course I… Of course I care. As loath as I am to admit it, your work has been… invaluable. To many.”

Newton laughed and pinched himself. “Okay, now I really must be dreaming.”

Hermann swallowed. In for a penny… “And, as long as we’re on the subject, I wouldn’t be adverse to… Continuing our work together. When we’re done here.”

At this, Newton looked truly shocked. He set his bowl aside and leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, of course. As irritating as you have been, I must admit that I have never felt more inspired in my life, than my time at the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Even if it was just to… Prove you wrong, or prove my work valuable in the face of your constant mischaracterization of it, my time here has been…”

Newton looked at Hermann expectantly, silent for once.

Hermann looked down to collect himself, and swallowed again around a lump in his throat. He looked up and met Newton’s gaze.

“It’s been the most gratifying, most rewarding period of my life. Despite the circumstances.”

“Oh, despite the circumstances, of course,” Newton said in his poor imitation of Hermann’s accent.

Hermann bit back a smile and looked down again, nervously picking at the crease on his trousers.

“I would really like that.”

“Hm?” Hermann said, glancing up.

“Like you said, to… continue our work. Together. You’re a pain in the ass, Hermann, and you wouldn’t know fun if it came up and punched you in the dick, but I’ve done my best work here, too. Even if it was just to spite you.”

Hermann felt a slow smile spread across his face.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile or laugh this much," Newton teased. "It's kind of creeping me out."

Hermann attempted to reign in his expression, sure he was blushing profusely now. Nothing for it. He couldn’t help the giddy excitement that was bubbling up inside of him. Newton was grinning too, and for a moment, a few images came to mind: The two of them, sharing a lab somewhere, bickering, arguing across podiums at each other on a lecture tour, writing a book together, sharing a cab together on the way back to a hotel room…

His face warmed impossibly further. Wait, were these Newton’s images, or his own? He studied Newton’s face but couldn’t tell from his expression.

Just then, Newton stifled a yawn.

“Oof, meds are kicking in, I think. God, I feel like I could sleep for a year.”

Hermann cleared his throat, not wanting to upset Newton by asking too personal of a question. “Can you… Do you think you can? Sleep, that is. Only, you said your thoughts are…”

“Loud, yeah. Fast.” Newton shrugged. “It’s okay. They’re a bit slower now. I think if I get a good sleep and take my other pill in the morning, I should be okay. I’ve been here before.”

Hermann got up, brushing some imaginary lint off his trousers, and grabbed the empty bowls. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Better leave now before he got any ideas. He turned stiffly towards the door and called over his shoulder, “You get some rest, I’ll see you tom -”

“Hermann,” Newt said, jumping up from the bed.

Hermann squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath, and turned around, trying his best to make his expression impassive.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to… um…” Newton all of a sudden turned sheepish. He twisted the hem of his T-shirt in his hands, staring at it intently.

Hermann’s heart leapt into his throat. No, he couldn’t be… He couldn’t want…

“What is it, Newton?” He asked softly, fully and consciously fanning the flicker of his own hope and expectation. There was no way that Newton wasn’t picking up on it.

Oh please, please, please, Newton…

Newton visibly gathered himself and raised his gaze.

“Would you… Would you like to stay? I know there’s a ton of work to do, but we have two weeks, and like, you don’t have to, but like, when you were… Hugging me earlier, or whatever, it helped. You know. Slow my thoughts down a bit. It’s the drift, I think. I dunno. It’s stupid, forget I asked.” He was already turning away, face twisting into a grimace.

Hermann put the bowls back down and walked hesitantly over to where Newton was standing. He studied his face but Newt wouldn’t meet his eyes.

You brave, brave man.

“Are you… quite sure?” Hermann asked. “You just want me to…”

Newt shrugged, looking at Hermann with a helpless expression.

“Just, lay with me?”

If Hermann’s heart had broken before, if the seed of whatever was laying dormant there had been watered before, now it burst open into a bloom so bright and vibrant that it took his breath away.

Hermann’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he could get a response out.

“I- er- that is, I would, ah- Well -”

“Oh no, I broke you,” Newt laughed. “You can just say no. It’s okay. Sorry for making it weird.”

Hermann shook his head emphatically.

“No, no, that is - it’s not a no.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I mean, it’s a yes.”

“Hermann, you’re confusing me here.”

“What I mean to say is, yes, I would… like that. To stay.”

Newton beamed. “Really?!” he squeaked, before slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with abject horror at the pitch of his own voice.

Hermann nodded and turned awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to do with himself. “Shall I…” He plucked at his cardigan and gestured inelegantly to the bed.

Newt dropped his hand. “Oh! Yeah! Um, take off whatever you want. I mean -” He laughed at himself, removed his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand. “Oh god, I’m already fucking this up, aren’t I?”

Hermann couldn’t help but smile as well. “Well, I’m hardly making a very… Polished go at the proceedings, myself.”

Newton laughed brightly and hopped into the bed and under the covers. He lay down flat on his back, blanket pulled up to his chin. “I’m just gonna… Uh…” He turned towards the wall, his back to Hermann. “Here. Just, like… Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

Hermann’s face felt like it was on fire. He was about to get into bed with Newton Geiszler. Newton Geiszler had asked him, Hermann Gottleib, to get into bed with him. To lay with him.

He had never felt more like a Victorian maiden in his life. He felt fit to swoon. What on earth was happening?

Before he could overthink it any more, he swiftly unbuttoned his cardigan and laid it neatly on the back of Newton’s desk chair. He warred for a minute with the prospect of removing his button-down shirt, before capitulating to his instincts and deciding to remove that too. His hands were shaking as he unfastened each button. His fingers toyed briefly with the button at the top of his slacks, and a shudder of excitement ricocheted through him.

Oh God. He was not ready for that.

He skipped the trousers, leaving them on, and carefully peeled off each of his socks, using the chair for balance. Finally he removed his button-down and placed it on the back of the chair as well. Clad only in his white singlet shirt and trousers (and undergarments, for God’s sake), he could not recall the last time being in this state of undress around another person who was not a medical professional. Already gooseflesh was rising on his arms.

He dimmed the desk lamp, pulled back the covers, and gingerly got into the bed.

Immediately Newton turned back over onto his other side, so that the two were face to face.

“Hi,” Newton said.

“Hello,” replied Hermann.

A slow smile formed on Newton’s face before he burst into giggles. Hermann couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Your breath smells like spicy ramen,” Newton said.

“As does yours.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

They stared at each other in the dim light, the ambient noises in the ‘Dome the only thing they could hear.

Hermann’s heart was beating fit to burst out of his chest. Was this happening? Was he really doing this? It felt unreal.

He studied Newton’s face intently, forcing himself to commit this moment to memory.

He could not believe how many freckles Newton had. And how beautiful his eyes were.

His fondness must have made its way through the drift bleed to Newton, as he began to blush, fluttering his eyelashes bashfully.

“Your freckles are quite…” Attractive. “Numerous,” Hermann said softly.

“Numerous, eh?”

“Yes. And your eyes are…”

“What?”

Beautiful. “Green.”

Newton laughed. “They’re hazel, actually.”

“Semantics.”

A pregnant silence fell over them.

Newton snuggled further down into the pillow, when he started. “Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think about your leg! How do you usually sleep? Like, is this side okay for you? Do you need an extra pillow? I have one here somewhere…”

Newton sat up and leaned over the head of his bed, twisting to root around on the floor. This gave Hermann a very good view of Newton’s stomach as he reached. It indeed had ink on it as well, he could see swirling yellow tendrils framed by his pronounced inguinal creases. His belly was slightly rounded, and under his bellybutton a dusting of soft-looking dark hair disappeared into his sweatpants. Hermann found the sight intensely erotic.

Herman squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a faint throb between his legs. He had a sneaking suspicion that his feelings and sensations were still being broadcast to Newton, and he did his best to take a calming breath. It would not do to have Newton knowing he was lusting over him when he had just barely invited Hermann into his bed.

“Aha!” Newt exclaimed, holding the pillow up triumphantly and passing it to Hermann.

Hermann took it with a word of thanks and busied himself with placing it carefully between his knees, while Newton babbled.

“Is lying like this okay for you? Cause like, I can move, either side is fine, or if you wanna lie on your back, or I can be the little spoon, or the big spoon even, but I guess it would be more like a jetpack, right, ‘cause you’re taller than me… Oh! That’s if you even want to spoon at all, we don’t have to, I’m fine if you just wanna like, lie here -”

Hermann held a finger up to Newton’s lips, silencing him.

“Newton. Hush.”

Newton stilled immediately, crossing his eyes to look down at Hermann’s finger, and then looking back up again, meeting Hermann’s gaze. Newton took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“There’s a lad,” Hermann said softly, and touched Newt’s cheekbone lightly with his fingertips.

Newton’s eyes fluttered closed as he let out the faintest subvocalization. He turned his cheek minutely into the touch.

Hermann felt the touch like a brand. Newton’s stubble had grown out over the past few days and was rough against his fingers. He continued to feel like he was dreaming, or like he was awake but under the effects of some potent drug. His very fingers and toes trembled, and he felt utterly relaxed and incredibly tightly wound at the same time.

Newton’s eyes blinked open and he sighed contentedly.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“You know. For being here. For me. Sometimes I can get a little… Sometimes I get like this. You know.”

“Yes. And sometimes I can be ornery and prudish -”

“Sometimes!”

“- And sometimes my leg makes me snappish and irritable -”

“Are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause -”

“The point being,” Hermann continued, “That neither of us is perfect. And of all people, I think we have earned the right to… to a little break.”

“Hmm. Hermann?”

“Yes?” Darling?

“Can you… pet my hair again? Like you were doing… before?”

Hermann smiled with the force of the emotion welling up inside of him.

“Of course.” Anything.

He obliged, moving his fingers to Newton’s hair, stroking through the soft strands. Newton sighed again, pushing his head into Hermann’s hand like a cat, eyes fluttering closed.

“Hmm, that feels nice.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course.”

“Anything I can do for you?”

When he opened his eyes, the heat in Newton’s gaze was unmistakable. Hermann felt a rush of warmth flood down through the core of him. His hand paused, fingers threaded through Newton’s hair, effectively cupping his head.

Newton brought one hand up to rest above Hermann’s thundering heart, separated from his skin only by the thin layer of his singlet.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Newt said with wonder.

“Yes, well. I don’t often find myself in positions like this.”

“Positions like what? In bed with someone?”

“In bed with anyone. Let alone someone like…”

He paused. No more ambiguity. No need for it, now.

“Someone as fetching as you.”

Newt laughed. “Fetching?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Newt sighed, dragging his hand down Hermann’s chest over his shirt, his hand finding its way to the dip of Hermann’s waist above his hip. Newt rucked up Hermann’s shirt and placed his hand on the bare skin of his hip, his thumb gently rubbing into the dip above Hermann’s hip bone.

Hermann gasped loudly, his hand tightening in Newton’s hair. His eyes slammed shut as arousal cut through him like a knife. Good lord, Newton’s hand on his skin felt like fire.

When he opened his eyes finally, Newt was looking at him like he was a starving man and Hermann was a full-course meal. Hermann could no longer tell what was the effect of the feedback loop of touch and attraction, and what was residual from the drift.

It didn’t matter.

Hermann dropped his hand back to Newt’s face, cupping his cheek reverently. Newt’s lips fell open and his tongue snaked out to wet his bottom lip. Hermann’s eyes flicked down and the image seared into him.

“Cor, but you’re gorgeous,” Hermann whispered.

A sigh punched out of Newt’s throat as he gripped Hermann’s hip tighter, pulling him a little bit closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Newton said.

“I think I’d be amenable to that,” Hermann replied.

“Oh, would you?”

“Yes, I rather think I -”

Hermann was cut off mid-sentence as Newton gently but firmly pressed his lips to Hermann’s. Hermann let out an undignified sound and wrapped one hand around the back of Newt’s neck, the other flying up to tangle in the front of his T-shirt. He felt Newt’s lips part as they gently pulled Hermann’s bottom lip between them, and Hermann moaned. The sensations were unbelievable. He couldn’t help the litany of pleas running on a loop in his mind -

Oh god, please, you’re beautiful, I love you, I want you -

Hermann hissed in pain as Newton pulled a bit too aggressively on his hip.

“Oh shit! Sorry, sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry Hermann -”

“It’s quite alright, love. No harm done.”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry, I’m so - “ Newton’s apology was cut off by a jaw-cracking yawn. “-Sorry. Agh. And sorry for yawning in the middle of my apology.”

Hermann chuckled and dipped his head so that his forehead rested on Newton’s. “Well this is a right state we're in, innit?”

“Do you always get this working-class when you’re relaxed, because I gotta say, it’s really doing it for me.”

Hermann raised his head again, raising one eyebrow at Newton, who was still panting slightly from their previous activities.

“What? You’re always all buttoned up, seeing you like this is sexy.”

Hermann blushed profusely, sputtering, “Well, I -”

“Relax, Hermann,” Newt interjected. “Neither of us are in any state to do anything beyond kissing right now. I am exhausted and still feel like shit, and I can’t even imagine your poor leg. Let’s just get some sleep. We can talk in the morning about whatever we need to talk about, and get done whatever we need to get done, and hopefully kiss lots more, and maybe make out a bit, and do some other stuff. But only if you’re feeling up to it.”

Hermann was speechless. How could Newton just say things like that, and expect Hermann to just keep on living? How could he just speak his emotions and thoughts so freely? How long had Newton been feeling this way? He wanted to ask him all of these questions and more, but all he said was,

“Alright.”

With that, Newt gave Hermann one last peck on the lips, beamed at him, and then turned on his side away from Hermann. He reached back and grabbed Hermann’s hand, pulling his arm over him, to nestle it in at his waist. Hermann’s hand cupped Newt’s belly and Newt sighed happily, snuggling further back into Hermann’s embrace. “Is this okay? You comfy?”

“Yes, it’s perfect,” Hermann said honestly. He hugged Newton tighter, placing a few soft kisses onto the back of his neck.

In the morning, they would figure out what to do with the lab. They would figure out about the future of the PPDC, the future of their research, and maybe the future of their careers. They would bicker and argue and hopefully laugh and smile at each other and hopefully share kisses. (Kisses!) Maybe in the near future they would figure out their future plans, together. Maybe further down the line there would be grand proclamations and romantic gestures. Maybe there would be time for I love yous.

But for now, there was just stillness, silence, and the occasional snore from Newton as the two fell into an exhausted and happy sleep.

And that was more than enough for now.