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Hermann was positively buzzing with energy, at least as much as the man ever did, walking around the apartment and touching things, adjusting one of those huge sweaters he always wore...Newt was getting nervous just watching him. And also getting nervous about making it to the show, but he couldn’t let Hermann know that. He checked his phone about three times every minute, while simultaneously attempting to get Hermann to calm down.
“Hey, man, don’t freak out,” Newt said, his voice pitching a little higher than he really would have preferred it to, “It’s just a concert, you’ve been to like a billion of them…”
“Three,” corrected Hermann almost immediately. “I’ve been to three, over the past four years.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. I just mean, uh, well, you’ve been to one before? It’s nothing to freak out about, right?”
“Never this close to the stage!” Hermann continued, not calming down at all. Newt went over to him and took one of his hands, attempting a smile. Hermann took a deep breath, latching onto Newt’s hand. “You’re right,” he said. “I should calm down. This isn’t like me.”
“No, man, it’s okay to be excited. You just kind of look like you’re going to throw up or something right now, so that’s not really great. Maybe dial it back down to 10.”
Hermann laughed, and Newt smiled with him.
“Though, uhh,” he continued, giving up on not making his segue horribly obvious, “It’s 45 minutes until the show, maybe you should go? They like, er, I mean, you’re supposed to get your seats early and stuff, right?”
Hermann nodded, to Newt’s relief, and let go of his hand.
“You’re right. I’ll see you in a few hours, then?”
Newt nodded, and stood up on his toes to give him a quick goodbye kiss.
“You have your ticket?”
“Of course I have my ticket,” Hermann said, checking regardless.
“Just makin’ sure. Drive safe now, alright?”
Hermann smiled at him, and gathered his things to leave.
Newt stood there bouncing on his heels, before moving to the window to watch Hermann drive away. The second he turned down the street, Newt pulled out his phone and made a call on speed dial.
“Yeah, okay, I’m late, but I’m going to be there in like ten minutes, okay? Don’t freak out. No—what? Fuck off, I told you to stop calling him that. Yeah. Okay, see you.”
He ended the call and grabbed his helmet, patting himself down to check that he had his wallet and phone before running out the door and jumping on his bike, gunning the engine and zooming off on an alternate route. His way took a few minutes longer, but by going a little faster than he probably should have been going and running a few red lights (there were only a few cars, whatever) he managed to make up the time, roaring into the lot behind the venue and jumping off his bike, running a few feet before turning on a heel, grabbing his keys, and running off again.
There was a notable sense of relief backstage when he finally showed up, though it was quickly overrun by the urgency of getting him ready for the show, a wardrobe shoved into his hands and irritated people with clipboards trying to bite their tongue and not order him around. But he got through the process a good five minutes before the concert was scheduled to start—no big deal. People needed to stop being on his ass all the time about that.
Newt—well, he was Leporidae with the mask on, technically—let someone fiddle with his hair to get just the right messy look while someone on stage stirred the crowd up for the band’s entrance. Theoretically, Newt could have done that job pretty well himself, but one of the Black Velvet Rabbits’ things was that they didn’t talk. Rabbits didn’t talk, so…well, it seemed cool at the time. It became a little troublesome as the years went on, but they couldn’t just drop it now.
When the crowd was screaming sufficiently enough, Newt ran out on stage with his guitar, gesturing for the crowd to get even louder—not like that was really possible—as the curtain rose and the rest of the band was revealed. Newt stood up to the microphone and looked over their audience for the few seconds it took for their drummer to count them off for the first song—it took less than that to find Hermann anyways, he was sitting in the front row, just where Newt had put him. He wasn’t screaming, of course, but he looked just about as psyched as anyone that was.
Newt grinned at him, mask hiding his eyes, and started into the first song. He plucked at his guitar and counted down the measures before the vocals started, getting to zero and crooning the lyrics into the microphone, to the delight of a group of very vocal female fans in the audience. He shut his eyes, and focused on his instrument, his voice…singing was the only time he ever had any control over that faculty, apparently.
The first few songs passed in a blur, until during a particular one he relinquished guitar duties to another member and dragged the microphone around the stage, belting out lyrics and sweating under the lights. When he knew that they had a good thirty seconds of instrumentals coming, he put the microphone back on the stand and hopped off down to the no-mans-land between the stage and the barriers set up, to the immediate delight of the front rows, by show of scream gauge. But he only had eyes for Hermann, who looked more like a deer in headlights than anything.
Newt indulged the rest of the row for the moment, jaunting off to one side before turning on his heel and going towards Hermann, right in front of Hermann, and grinning at him. Hermann looked like he was torn between staring at Newt—Leporidae, really—and checking behind him to make sure there wasn’t someone else that had his attention. But Newt made it perfectly clear. Crystal clear, really, when he leaned over the barrier to trace a gloved finger along Hermann’s jaw, watching him turn the brightest shade of red that Newt had ever seen on the face of another human being.
Realizing his cue was coming up, he leaned back, blowing a kiss at Hermann before jumping back on the stage again, and grabbing the microphone just in time to continue with the rest of the song.
---
After the show and the ceremonial greeting of the back-stagers (one reason why the whole not-talking thing was nice; you just nodded and signed things and smiled at the occasional camera instead of having to hold conversations after singing for a good hour) and after getting out of his costume and changing back into his normal clothes, Newt finally had the time to check his phone, to find about a dozen text messages from Hermann, a few of which were;
You won’t believe what happened.
Thank you so much for those tickets!
Honestly, it was amazing.
Oh dear, I hope I’m not texting you this much while you’re sleeping…
Newt grinned at his phone, and messaged back, nah just busy, i could swing by and you could tell me about it
Almost immediately, Hermann sent back: You don’t have to. Newt sighed to himself, smiling.
come on man i wanna hear about the great time u had w/ the tickets i bought you!!
Well, I’m not planning on sleeping anytime soon.
Newt slipped his phone back onto his pocket and got his helmet.
---
“And he came down off the stage, can you believe it? I don’t think that’s ever happened during any of their shows before! And he…well, he was right in front of me!”
Newt tried not to grin too much at Hermann’s face going red at the memory he obviously wasn’t planning on sharing.
“Your crush on this guy is getting out of hand,” he joked, shaking his head. But Hermann frowned, despite his tone.
“Is it…?” he asked quietly, seeming concerned.
Newt blinked.
“Nah, man, I’m was just messing with you. I mean you’re…you get so excited when you talk about him, it’s really cute,” he said. Though phrasing it like that made Newt feel the most irrational pang of jealousy he’d ever had in his life. He’s head over heels for you either way, dumbass.
Hermann kissed him, and Newt immediately felt better.
“Because I only get to see him once a year,” Hermann said. “You’re the only person I could be happy seeing every day.”
Newt just kissed him back.
---
By some complete coincidence that was definitely not engineered by any particular party for any particular reason, the Black Velvet Rabbits had another “home” performance just a few months later at a local music festival type thing. It wasn’t their usual venue, but they agreed to go anyways. (In reality, the rest of the band were always complaining that Newt always argued them out of taking opportunities to play, so they were relieved when he started suggesting they play at this or that place. Suspicious? Yes, yes they were, but they decided to enjoy it while whatever plan he had cooked up unfolded)
Hermann had been pleasantly surprised at the announcement that they would be playing, but only mildly.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Hermann?” Newt asked when the other man had read the announcement to him and seemed less than psyched. “I thought you’d be excited...or, I mean...”
“Well, yes, I would be,” said Hermann, setting his phone down on the table. “I just don’t expect to be attending.”
“What?” said Newt, “Why not? Don’t you want to?”
“Of course I want to. But I saw them once already this year, and I’m content with that.”
He fixed Newt with a purposeful look over his reading glasses.
“And I do not want you to spend any more money on tickets.”
Newt put his hands up in surrender, and went back to munching on his toast. Hermann sighed, and turned his attention to the letters on the table. Bills, it looked like, because for some reason Hermann completely resisted setting them up to pay automatically. For his “records,” he’d say. Newt was pretty sure he just liked doing all the math in his head.
He opened each one and looked them over in turn, though he paused before the last one in the pile.
“What’s this one for,” he asked aloud, glancing over at the ones he’d already opened. Electricity, gas, et cetera. By all accounts, there shouldn’t be another letter still sitting on the table.
Tentatively, he opened it, and pulled out the papers inside.
When he unfolded them, a small slip of paper fell out.
Hermann slowly looked up at Newt, frowning.
“Newton,” he said.
“What?” said Newt. “I didn’t have anything to, I mean, I don’t know...What? What is that?” he said, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face.
Hermann rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst liar I have ever met,” he said (oh, if only he knew), “And I told you not to buy me anymore tickets.”
“Okay, well, for one, you told me that just now, so that wouldn’t really have counted, and two, I totally didn’t spend any money on that, promise. It’s a big festival, you know? I know people who know people and I got tickets for one thing and traded them for stuff and...you know. It’s like a music nerd bartering system. I know people, man. Also, you should totally look closer at that ticket.”
Hermann didn’t look like he was particularly convinced by Newt’s argument--though it was true enough, Newt hadn’t spent any money on it, just lost a bit--but he also, for once, didn’t seem like he really wanted to argue about it. He picked up the ticket and looked it over.
Moments later, his face went slack and his eyes wide.
“Oh my god,” he said, “Newton, I...where did you get this?”
“Like I said. I know people.”
Hermann leaned across the table and kissed him. Newt smiled into it.
“You’re very welcome, Hermann,” he said, and Hermann’s face went slightly pink. “Oh, and speaking of,” continued Newt, “I’m not saying you should kiss the vocalist, but...if you’re gonna be backstage, you should totally kiss the vocalist.”
“What!” exclaimed Hermann, his face going even redder. “Wh--no!”
“Aww, come on, why not, you always joked about doing it, it couldn’t hurt to at least ask him.”
“But, I--er, would you...be okay with that?”
“Uhh, obviously. I mean, yeah, I know some people freak out if their ‘partner--’ ” air quotes “--kisses someone else, but I’m totally not one of those people. I mean, you’ve been in love with this guy for longer than you’ve known me,” Newt paused for a moment, letting the irony wash over him, before continuing, “so come on, man. Go be a groupie.”
“I’m not...I don’t love him, I enjoy his--er, their music.”
“And have an everlasting raging crush on the lead singer.”
Hermann frowned, but didn’t exactly deny anything.
“See?” went Newt. “You should totally do it.”
“I think that would be incredibly rude of me.”
“It has the potential to be rude, yeah, but if you ask really really nicely then I don’t think anyone can begrudge you that. Follow your dreams!”
Hermann fidgeted with the ticket, flicking at the edges.
“He could say no...” he mumbled.
“Yes, but, come on. Worst case scenario, you leave backstage feeling a little embarrassed. But at this point you’re gonna feel kind of disappointed if you don’t ask at all, right? Wouldn’t you rather choose the option that has a chance of it working?”
Hermann looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.
“...you seem fairly intent on getting me to do this.”
"Well, I mean,” Newt went, leaning back and putting his hands up, “it's completely your choice, I'm never even going to know, right? I just don't want you to chicken out on something that you want to do. Assuming you...you know, actually want to do it."
Newt smiled at him, and Hermann considered the ticket in his hand
"I couldn't possibly," he said.
"Well, not with that attitude."
Hermann sighed, and set the ticket in the middle of the table along with the envelope and blank pieces of paper it came in, turning again to look over the other papers.
But Newt could tell he was so not thinking about paying bills.
---
Newt had decided not to pull anything during the band’s performance, since the setting was somewhat less controlled and, besides, he didn't want to raise suspicion. He just did all his songs like he was supposed to and escaped backstage when the show was over.
The band always had at least a few minutes after the show before the fans showed up, so they took what time they had to set their masks down for a bit and take a breather.
Newt was messing with his hair in a mirror for almost the entire time, to the amusement of his bandmates.
"Who're you tryin' to impress, dude?" one of them asked, and Newt didn't have time to reply before one of their people, walkie-talkie and all, came in and asked if they were ready. They all got to their feet and put their masks back on, looking each other over and giving silent thumbs-up. No talking with the masks on.
They walked out and came face-to-mask with their fans. There were ten, mostly girls, teenagers to mid-twenties, one or two of another gender, and then...Hermann. He looked like he didn't know what to do with himself, and was leaning on his cane heavily. Newt wanted to go straight over and talk to him--or, not talk, exactly--but a trio of fans caught his attention and he couldn't exactly brush them off. He smiled and shook their hands and signed the things presented to him, hugging people and taking pictures (and giving them all bunny ears, of course). He really liked meeting fans, actually, so he was enjoying himself, but he was becoming ever aware of Hermann standing off to the side and seeming perfectly content just basking in his presence.
Newt knew there was a time limit on these things, though, so he eventually managed to pass the fans onto the other members and walk over to Hermann, much to his surprise.
"Oh, um, hello," he said, very obviously nervous. Newt smiled, and held his hand out for him. Hermann took it somewhat hesitantly. "Er, my name's Hermann," he said. Newt shook his hand enthusiastically, and patted Hermann on the shoulder. He calmed down, at least a little bit.
"I suppose you've heard enough people say they love your music," he said. Newt put his hands up in mock surprise, shook his head, and cupped a hand behind his ear, encouraging Hermann to go on. He got a laugh out of him, and Newt grinned.
"I really do love it. Your lyrics are amazing, honestly. Um. I was kind of wondering..."
Newt tilted his head in question, and Hermann flushed. Oh, yes. This was it.
"No, no, nevermind," Hermann said, shaking his head. "I'm sure you have other fans to talk to, I'll just...thank you for speaking with me..."
Newt put his hands on his hips, and tilted his head in question again, a bit more pointedly than last time. He could tell Hermann was biting the inside of his cheek out of nerves.
"I have a friend, er...a boyfriend, who said I should ask you for a kiss but I didn't really--"
Newt effectively interrupted him, throwing his hands up and grinning again. Hermann stared at him, and Newt nodded.
"What," went Hermann, shocked. "Really?"
Newt stepped up to him and placed his hands on Hermann's jaw, pausing for a moment. When Hermann didn't stop him--it didn't hurt to make sure--Newt leaned in slightly and kissed him, thankful for the tall shoes that were part of his costume.
When he stepped back again, Hermann somehow had an expression halfway between 'won the lottery' and 'someone ran over my dog.' Newt had to keep himself from laughing.
"Er," went Hermann, rediscovering his vocal functions, "thank...you..."
Newt shrugged, and Hermann glanced away, obviously trying to fight off a smile. Newt could hear assistants asking them to bring their interactions to a close, but he remained in front of Hermann regardless.
"Why don't you talk?" he asked, suddenly. Newt glanced at the other people getting ushered outside. How was he supposed to answer a question like that?
He thought for a second, and decided to just go the easy route. No one would have to know.
Rabbits don’t talk, he signed. Hermann’s eyebrows went up.
“Oh, but they sing and sign, do they?” he said, amused, and Newt shrugged exaggeratedly before finally giving in to one of the personnel and handing Hermann over to be led out.
“Thank you again,” Hermann said, and Newt waved at him as he left.
He couldn’t wait to hear Hermann tell him about this.
---
Newt finally got back to Hermann’s apartment pretty late that evening. He let himself in and looked around. “Anyone home?” he called, and Hermann came out to greet him. And that greeting consisted of throwing his arms around Newt’s shoulders and kissing him very enthusiastically. Newt let out a startled noise, and Hermann let him go.
“I’m guessing you had a good time, huh,” went Newt, grinning.
“Yes,” said Herman, “Thank you so much for getting me that ticket, Newt, you’re brilliant.”
Newt flushed slightly, and shrugged. “Oh, it was no big deal,” he said. Then, “Did you do it?”
Hermann glanced away for a moment, blushing, and even if Newt hadn’t known the answer, he would have then.
“Yes,” said Hermann. “And...he agreed.”
“Aww, that’s awesome!” said Newt. “Was it awesome? Did you freak out? I bet you were cool, you’re always cool.”
Hermann rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, and shrugged slightly.
“I was somewhat taken aback, but...I suppose it could have been worse.”
“I bet he thought you were cute,” said Newt. “ ‘Cause I think you’re cute.”
“Not everyone thinks like you do, Newton.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Hermann raised an eyebrow at him, and Newt held back a grin.
“So!” he said, “Tell me more!”