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Haakon peered round the door, into the cold, pitch black and reverberant physics department - a far cry from the linguistics department. He could not understand how Oppenheimer spent the day here, hacking at the cyclotron. Yet he came anyway, seeking comfort after a difficult day with his students. He wished he had Oppenheimer’s charm, Oppenheimer’s warmth, Oppenheimer’s charisma which had an influence on those beyond his students. Haakon shivered, as he realised maybe one of his cardigans would’ve come in handy.
He doubted Robert would be there this late and if so, doubted even more that he would want to talk. If Oppenheimer was in here at such an hour, it would likely be for something important. Maybe the cyclotron was almost done.
It should not have come to his surprise when he saw Ernest Lawrence instead - working hard on something, his arms moving efficiently across, creating a gentle motion.
Haakon stared at Ernest’s arms, engrossed and fascinated yet clueless as to what he was doing. Almost hypnotically, against his will perhaps and most certainly his better judgement, he was led in. Standing behind Ernest for a few minutes, simply watching him, Haakon’s hands were positioned behind his back tensely. Why wasn’t he moving? He thought, as Lawrence spun around and almost leapt out his chair.
“Darn it! The power of Christ compels you,” He yelped, standing up slowly. He was taken back to his Lutheran days, maybe he should’ve listened closer when his parents mentioned matters relating to that of spiritual attacks. That is, until he realised that the other man staring had his mouth equally agape. That was.. literally all he could deduce about the man’s physique until he turned on the reading lamp on his desk and became acquainted with a brown-ish blonde flick, wide blue eyes and a soft moustache under a long nose. Lawrence’s mouth immediately turned down.
“You fixin’ to convince me to get the Russians in on this, huh? I know you might like sharing but I don’t,”
Haakon rolled his eyes as Ernest furrowed his brows.
“I was looking for someone else,”
“Last thing I would ever do is let Joseph Stalin pass through my laboratory. Please get out,”
Lawrence began to grow aggravated, his cheeks beginning to tint a slight pink.
“Actually, I was wondering if Oppenheimer was here. But nevermind, I suppose,”
Haakon merely sighed, trying to get through to Lawrence was impossible.
Haakon merely stood by Lawrence for a moment, watching him continue to work for reasons he could not explain. It was fascinating, he thought. Of course he had come in, at times, with Oppenheimer to watch it be developed but there was something so intimate about watching Lawrence work in a dark, empty room, as if he were the only man in the world and the cyclotron the only thing that mattered. He had an almost mechanical way of doing things, the way hands maneuver a clock or when white horses relentlessly lap in perfect, hypnotising unanimity at the sea.
“Why are you still here? Oppie went home. You can shoo now,” Lawrence said, turning around to face Haakon then gesturing to the door which was now ajar.
“Sorry, I- I was just watching. It’s awfully impressive, you know,”
Contrary to Oppenheimer’s, and clearly Lawrence’s assumptions, Haakon did not wish to let political animosity get in the way of him and Lawrence.
Lawrence was silent, he did not oblige so Haakon took this as confirmation that it was okay for him to stay. He couldn’t really read Lawrence at this moment, which worried him as he was usually more perceptive.
He tried to step closer to Lawrence, when he smelt something familiar on Ernest’s vneck.
“I like your cologne,” He murmured, before blushing. That was in no way, shape or form appropriate of him to say, particularly to someone like Lawrence whom he had much respect for but it appeared that those feelings were not reciprocated.
Before he could apologise, Ernest answered with a swift “thank you.”
Ernest got out of his chair, the cyclotron now on full display. Of course, it was far from finished. Various stacks of paper surrounded it like an irregular fairy circle in the forest, and Haakon was intrigued. Lawrence moved behind Haakon and began to begrudgingly explain the technicalities behind what was being built.
“You write, yeah?”
Haakon nodded stiffly, eyes fixed on the cyclotron as if looking at anything else would cause the room - and everything in it - to melt away.
“I.. I have a journal club. It’s every Monday night; I know it sounds stupid but it’s really sweet. Mostly physicists there, but Oppie is there and I’m sure you’d be welcome to work on your books or whatever it is that you write,”
Haakon was taken aback. For a man who had hated him for so long, Lawrence was quick to lose a grudge.
Lawrence began to move closer, not realising until he was almost touching Haakon’s waist and realised that this was perhaps not appropriate.
“You smell nice too. I wish I could get my stuff to stay this strong all day,” Lawrence whispered, as if passing on clandestine information.
“Where do you put it?”
“Huh? I just spray it ‘round, that’s how you do it, right? I didn’t know there were techniques to these things,”
Haakon laughed softly, his rich and sultry voice with a hint of laughter as he replied.
“You can’t do that and expect it to stay on. Look, bring your bottle tomorrow morning and I will come in and show you,”
Lawrence blushed. He did not know if what he was about to do would be considered okay. But he did so regardless; he put his arms around Haakon’s waist, causing the other man to convulse in surprise for a second before settling into his arms. He hoped this would quell the tension between them.
“Come here again tomorrow, if you would like. It was nice having someone watch,” Lawrence murmured. He couldn’t believe he was being so intimate with a man, let alone a communist man.
“Do you really stay up this late every night? Oh, come to mine tomorrow. I will fix you something to eat. I gather Oppie hasn’t told you about my cooking?” Lawrence shook his head.
“Does wonders for him, apparently. Maybe it will do the same for you,”
Lawrence did not wish to let Haakon go, he could not believe that this had all happened so quickly. Something in him felt that he and Haakon were never supposed to let go, as if everything before that moment had been all flavours of wrong.
“You know, usually I work late into the night because it’s when my brain is the sharpest. But I suppose the cyclotron can wait a day, if you insist,”