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“Hermann! Come on, Hermann. Just pay attention for one minute!”
Hermann will never accept it, will always deny it, but Newton’s high and excited voice managed to wrangle a smile out of him.
The lab is suddenly quiet, not even the sounds of medical tools scraping away are audible. It's too quiet- Hermann knows that quiet, and he sharply looks up, a reprimand on his tongue already.
And he is greeted by Newton, elbows deep in some Kaiju’s bowels, blood smeared and hair sweaty and wild. There is a peculiar look on his soft face, one that makes Hermann’s heartbeat escalate.
He can't quite pinpoint it, and he hates that.
“Hey, man. Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter how many fights we get into, we’ll always be friends?”
It slips out before he can stop it, and he has never been known to speak before he thinks, so why now of all the moments?
“Just friends?”
Newton is stammering, and Hermann is as red as a ripe tomato, trying to duck his head back into his coffee stained paperwork, and suddenly Newton is laughing, loud and bright and hysterical.
“Sure, Hermann. Of course.”
Newton goes back to his work like nothing monumental has happened, like he didn't just shake up Hermann’s entire existence, and when Hermann peeks up from under his eyelashes he can see Newton working away again, smiling and happy.
His Mother and fore Mothers had always installed some fairy tale believes into him, that love would come with fireworks and loud blasts of realization, but they didn't realize to tell him it would also come in a man with untameable hair who laughs and talks too loudly, who chronic snores, who can't tell left from right during his more brilliant schemes and sometimes has to have someone around to act as his moral compass and his reminder to just ‘eat and drink some water, my god, and while you're at it you haven't slept in three days, you groupie idiot.’
A clock is ticking somewhere, but Hermann can't think past the look on Newt’s face when he invited him over for dinner to meet Alice .
He had forced himself into the clean up efforts in Newt’s home, hoping to find some trace of what went wrong, a trace of the man he loves. He found it alright, and when he found her , he had fallen to his knees and cried, audience be damned.
He vaguely remembered Jake patting his shoulder, murmuring some words to soldiers to disconnect this beast and bring it to the lab for observation and possible destruction.
When he stops crying, stops remembering the look in Newt’s eyes in his silent plea for help, Jake is still there, sitting knee to knee with him and holding his hand.
“I was fond of Dr. Geiszler. He was always willing to get up to no good with me, and we always gave my Dad and Mako headaches with some of our pranks.”
Hermann gives a watery laugh, and makes the slow, painful work of getting back up, knuckles white around his cane. Jake makes an aborted half move to help him up, and decides to let the man keep some shred of dignity.
“He prefers Newton, or just Newt.”
“I thought, after- after I-” Jake sighs, rubbing a hand under his eye, “Newton, then. Come on, is there anything personal in here you want to keep before they close the building down?”
Hermann tries to not look at the bed he could have had, could have shared with his better half. He tries not to look at the gaping hole where the beast once was.
He knows Newton, knows he was probably a squirrel in a past life because he keeps all his precious belongings in little hideaways, and he wants to believe no possession will ever change that.
He has Jake flip the mattress over, trying not to cringe at the wave of fine dust and smell of cologne that hits him. He pulls a pocket knife out of his boot- because while he is now a scientist he was first a soldier- and starts ripping into the mattress.
He doesn't find much of substance, just a few books that he can't make heads or tails of, but they look worn with age so he decides they must be important if he was willing to stuff his bed with them.
Opening the one that looks the most worn, some sort of alien sci-fi hoobah, he's entranced by the way Newton’s name is written in big, loopy letters. He thinks of Newt’s mother, her voice that could fill a room, and despite himself he can't help the chuckle as he traces the shapes of his name over and over.
The next spot he checks is in the closet floor, tapping around until he feels the loose board. He finds a few crystals that he knows Newton no longer believes in, but keeps around just in case. They weigh down a photo album, and when he cracks it open it opens automatically to a photo of them, smiling after the war before they became separated, before things went to shit, an exact replica of the one he carries in his breast pocket.
They look so happy, so young and carefree despite having just gotten through a war. There are less shadows in their eyes, and looking at Newton here he thinks how he could have ever looked at Newton now and not realized they were different people.
His Newton- bright, loud, authority fighting and rule breaking. The Newton possessed by it was everything but. It had played the role of Newton so well it convinced even Hermann.
The pages almost refuse to turn, and he knows he is taking too long, Jake must be getting impatient- but when he looks up briefly he is just sitting on the opposite side of the closet door, looking around with curiosity and no hint of wanting this to be done faster.
He understands grief intimately, knows it can't be rushed or compartmentalized.
He looks back to the album, back to photos of Newton as a chubby, red cheeked baby, as a pouty toddler, then a glum teenager and finally as an adult growing up, photos of his tattoos and college achievements. He is surrounded in all the photos with love from his parents, but the lack of friends that grace the photos is harsh.
Newton knows he was loved, but sometimes during the war when they were afraid of the next day and being separated he would whisper secrets to Hermann that logically, he knows his parents and sometimes-friends loved him, but no one ever really understood him, they always wanted to change him, and then he would get a soft look in his eyes and brush the hair away from Hermann’s forehead, and he understood what he wasn't saying: until I met you .
The photos after the war are sparser, with one or two shots of Kaiju’s, and mostly of him and Newton. Smiling, laughing, fooling around. One where Newton had made him so mad he waved his cane at his head and threatened him with it. He doesn't remember that day, but it's clear Newton does and even cherishes it because underneath is scribbled in his chicken scratch he dares call handwriting is the date.
He can vaguely remember Newton laughing, but then Newton was always laughing around him.
He doesn't remember the last time he heard Newt laugh.
He closes the photo album as gently but as resolutely as he can, and continues to dig around the floor board. His hand bumps into a stack, and when he pulls it out he has to groan because god , he thought Newton had gotten rid of these embarrassing CD’s.
Jake perks up at Hermann’s secondhand embarrassment and scoots a little closer, “What is it?”
Hermann takes off the rubber band holding them together, and lays them out in between the space separating them.
“It's the music he enjoys but tries denying he enjoys. I thought he had gotten rid of them, but no, was I ever so wrong.”
“Maybe playing it for him will help him.” Jake mentions casually, thumbing through the old CD’s and chuckling at particularly embarrassing ones like Coldplay and Avenged Sevenfold.
Hermann blinks at Jake’s down-turned head. “I- Yes, I suppose so.”
“Nice to not feel so alone, isn't it?”
Jake’s eyes meet and hold him in place, makes him feel rooted in the then and there and not wherever they are holding Newton until they either decide to help him or kill him.
Hermann’s shoulders droop, and he stacks the CD’s again to drop them into the messenger bag Jake thought to bring along.
“That should be everything important. All his documents are in my lab, or on data chips, and anything else can be replaced. His jewelry from his mother isn't hanging from the lamps, so he must be wearing it.”
Jake shoulders the bag and patiently waits for Hermann to lift himself up. He wobbles for a bit, but manages to stand steady if a bit lopsided. Jake claps him on the shoulder, and leads the way out and back to the soldiers waiting outside in their cars.
“Let’s go save ourselves a Newt.”
A week has passed, and it feels like Hermann is no closer to solving the problem. His numbers had never, ever failed him before, so why does it feel like now he is grasping at straws?
He is sitting at his desk, orderlies rushing about around him, and he can vaguely make out words and numbers in the documents below him. When he brings his hands up, they swim in and out of focus.
Someone drops a bottle of water on the one open space amidst the papers, a remnant from the original drift with Newton, ordering him to drink it slowly and asking when the hell the last time he slept was.
He doesn't respond, just staring blankly at the papers and trying to make heads or tails of the numbers glaring up at him.
A sigh ruffles his hair, and there are hands pushing him up and away from his desk. The orderlies all whisper about how he's finally leaving, hopefully to sleep and eat, and it better be in that order one particularly vivacious scientist mutters at whoever is carrying him.
The figure chuckles, and aye-aye’s her.
They don't steer him towards the medical wing like he had assumed, but they're also not taking him towards his- their - quarters.
He clutches at the photograph in his pocket, smoothing a thumb over the worn surface. In the last ten or so years, he has taken to carrying the photograph with him, laying it on his desk and under his pillow, reprinting it when it rips with age or takes a spill.
They lead him to a room where there are no reminders, no evidence of who once lived there and who loved there. It is completely neutral, no ghosts to haunt the corners, and Hermann has never believed in ghosts but thinking back to the man he loves he may be convinced to, and Hermann allows himself to fall into the bed.
He can see now it is Jake who came to rescue him from himself, can tell from his shoulders because only two people have a set of shoulders like that and one of them is dead, and a part of Hermann feels guilty because he must have his own grief to deal with.
Jake tucks him into bed and stays with him until he falls asleep, clicking away at his laptop.
There is a rabbit twitching its nose at him, sitting calm and still.
Hermann is somewhere unfamiliar, the space is open and green and nothing close to what he remembers of inner city Germany or Japan. Even the sky is too blue.
The rabbit twitches its nose again, bringing his attention back to it. He gazes into its eyes and almost imagines he can see Newton staring back.
The rabbit hops off, looking back every few paces to make sure Hermann is following.
‘Don't chase the rabbit’ they said in the academy and during the war, ‘it'll only lead to heartbreak’ they whispered in the dormitories and cafeteria.
He follows the rabbit with eyes like Newton’s. He has no other option, and he is just a man who can hope for miracles.
He walks for what feels like a lifetime, and yet he doesn't get tired, doesn't feel the strain from his limp. He just feels like a man on a mission.
He comes to a meadow, and it's a riot of colors from plants he had briefly studied but never really cared for. He spots a patch of snapdragons, Newton’s favorite flowers, because when they dried they looked like little skulls and Newton found that endlessly fascinating.
The rabbit sits at the base of it, rubbing his snout with his front paws.
“Hermann?” He hears from behind him, and in the back of his mind he wonders at how there is no pain when he whirls around- he hasn't been able to do that since he was in the Academy.
“Newton!” Hermann gasps, reaching out one hand to hold his face, but his fingers brush through nothing.
“I'm sorry, we don't have long. Hermann, listen to me. No matter what happens, don't forget that I'm trying to find my way back to you, to our friends. But I can't do it alone. Please, she's getting stronger each day, and I don't have much time left. You have to-” Newton looks pained, doubling over and clutching at his head. The snapdragons at their feet are dirtied with blood he coughs up, and Hermann so badly wishes to comfort him but all he can do is wave his hands vaguely around Newton’s body.
“Destroy her.” Newton kneels down, wheezing for breath and Hermann collapses to his knees with him, always willing to go where Newton goes.
“Please, stop. She's hurting you, just stop trying to speak.”
Newton wipes at his mouth and chin, managing to smear mucous and blood rather than clear it.
“I love you.” Hermann whispers, hands reaching out to cup the space around Newton’s, thumbs straining to not smooth over his cheeks.
Newton raises pale, shaky hands to hover over Hermann’s, watches Hermann with fever bright eyes, “Find me, Hermann. Find me in the space where we have no boundaries.”
Hermann wakes with a gasp, and pulls the blankets off of him as he struggles to sit upright.
Hands are at his shoulders, and he wants to shake them off, but he is cold yet warm and shaking.
“Hermann? Can you hear me? Hey, take deep breathes. Follow my breathing.”
His head is guided towards someone’s chest, and he listens to the heartbeat, wishing with all his might that it is Newton’s.
His breathing eventually calms, and he manages to wiggle away from the hands holding him.
“Better?” Jake sits back down in the chair at the head of the bed.
“Were you watching me sleep?” Hermann feels distaste crawl up his back, he hates it when anyone who isn't Newton watches him. He always feels too big for his skin, too clumsy.
“Of course not, that's so weird. You were, however, asleep for two days.”
Jake opens his mouth to continue, and Hermann is distantly shocked at how much time has passed. He has never been asleep that long, even during the stretches where he stayed awake for days on end.
“Hey, uh. The Council made a decision about what to do with Newton.”
Hermann sits up straighter, clutching a pillow to his stomach for comfort. “Spit it out.”
“They wanted to throw him in jail for life, but I managed to evade that. I had to throw my family name around and cash in on Dad and Mako’s favors, and remind them I literally saved their asses, but I managed to finagle a deal instead.”
“ And? ”
“Instead of jail, he has to give them information about the hive mind, about Kaiju’s and their objective.”
Hermann feels indignant on Newton’s behalf, “He is no position to give out that information, and you know it as well as I do.”
Jake scoffs and leans back, “I didn't say he had to do it now . The Council may be stiff and have a stick up their ass, but they're not barbarians either. Besides, the information would be for nothing without at least weapons to back it up. And they want him to get better first, of course, but…”
Jake took a deep, steadying breath, and Hermann’s hands itch to shake him into speaking faster.
“You're not allowed to see him, not legally. Only family can, and only family can make legal decision for him. Seeing as his parents are deceased, and you two never wed, those decisions fall on to an impartial medical officer.”
“You're saying I can't see him? At all?” Hermann felt crushed by this news.
A smirk plays on Jake’s face, “Well, I didn't quite say that, did I? You're forgetting after Dad died, I slummed it out for a good long while. You pick up some things when you live on the streets, including how to forge papers.”
With that, he brought out a piece of paper with a dramatic flourish, and set it on Hermann’s legs. It was a marriage certificate, detailing that they had eloped just before the war had ended as a scheme when they thought the world was ending.
“They'll never believe this.” Even so, he picked it up gingerly, careful not to smudge the ink with his and Newton’s names side by side. In another world, they could have had this, with a real wedding. Tears prick his eyes just thinking about it.
“Except they already did. I suspect they knew it was false but were too polite of geezers to say otherwise. They probably also knew you were his only hope.”
“I'm one of those geezers, you know.”
“Yeah, but you're uncle geezer number two.”
Hermann huffed a laugh despite himself, “This is why you're Newton’s favorite.”
Jake grinned, pleased to see him laugh. “Yeah, well, you can see Newton whenever you wish.”
Hermann hummed, tucking the certificate to sit flush with the photograph. He wasn't about to make any promises.
Jake shifted, resting his forearms against his thighs so he was at eye level with Hermann. “Hey, what were you dreaming about? You kept saying Newton’s name.”
Hermann stiffened, all the feelings coming back to him. “I saw the rabbit from the drift, and it led me to… him. He told me to destroy the beast, the parasite. She- It’s - killing him. He also said something rather odd.”
“Oh?” Jake prompted, leaning in closer.
“Yes, he said that I could find him in the space where there are no boundaries.”
“Space where there are no boundaries? Like a drift?”
“A drift…” Hermann whispered, “Yes, that would make sense. The dream had the same wispy feeling of a drift.”
Oh, my brilliant mad scientist , Hermann thinks woefully, missing Newton’s warmth now more than ever, knowing he's so close yet might as well be in another dimension.
“So… Okay, one step at a time. We should destroy Alice first.”
Hermann flinched at the beasts’ name, “Don't call it that. It's a beast, it doesn't deserve a name.”
Jake raised his hands in placating, “Okay, okay. Sorry, Gottlieb. So first we destroy Al- it . We should have Newton nearby in case something goes wrong. Do you want the soldiers to take care of that, or do you want to be there?”
“I want to be the one to destroy that monster.”
“I don't know if I can swing that, but I can try my best.”
It's a week later when they announce for Dr. Gottlieb to make his way to the ready room 3 ASAP, the biggest ready room they have and the one closest to the medical bay.
Hermann doesn't remember getting to point B from point A, but he must have run fast because he's panting and there's a shooting pain racing down his leg.
But there's Newton- his beautiful, bright, brilliant fake-husband Newton- and he promises to never complain about the water he leaves everywhere in the bathroom, about the energy drinks he leaves half empty around their shared lab. He just wants him back . He wants to be able to complain about those things again.
“Newton.” Hermann gasps, holding a hand over his heart to stifle the pain. “Oh, Newt.”
Newton turns his head to meet his eyes head on, and there is a flicker of pain, before his eyes are once again shuttered and cold.
“Oh, Hermes. Are you here to destroy me as well? Heehee, it won't work. I'm too rooted in poor, dear Newton’s brain.”
Jake jerks him towards the container holding the beast, and there is a ringing in his ears. His hand itches to beat the glass with his cane, to hit the beast until he is covered in blue and no longer possessing his mad scientist.
He instead lays his hands against his thighs, self soothing over the rough fabric.
The soldiers look at him and Nate for their go ahead, and Nate looks at him for permission.
“Just do it. Don't let him suffer more than he already has.” He doesn't voice the please , but they hear it anyway.
It seems like an eternity while they drain it of its fluid, and when the fluid is fully gone Newton doubles over in his constraints, gasping for air that it isn't receiving anymore.
He doesn't remember hobbling over, doesn't remember pushing Nate and one newly christened soldier out of his way, he only remembers that he was staring at it and then he was staring at Newton, pushing the restraints away so he can hold him better.
Soldiers are trying to stop him, telling him it's too dangerous, but he just yells at them to get on with it already, just destroy the perverted thing already .
He holds Newton as closely and tightly as he can without choking off what air he is getting, cards a hand through his lanky hair and rubs his thumbs wherever he can reach bare skin.
If he turns his head just so, he still has Newt in his eyesight- because he's in love, not an idiot- but he also has a view of the soldiers shooting at the beast.
Newton flinches under his hands like he can feel every wound, and it makes Hermann nervous about just how deeply this monster has rooted itself.
He's not sure if it's a trick of light or not, but he can almost imagine that the vein pulsing in Newt’s neck is blue and not red.
The sounds of gunfire eventually quiet, with the soldiers breathing heavily. Hermann pats down Newton, looking for a pulse and breathing, but he is merely unconscious from the strain.
The brain of it is pulp now, blue streams making its way around that Hermann knows will never unstain from the floor or their clothes.
His cane is coated in it, and he welcomes the reminder that everything isn't okay, not yet, there's still work to be done.
“Sir, we should get Dr. Geiszler back to the brig.”
Hermann clutches Newton closer, baring his teeth at the soldier who reached out for Newton’s limp body.
“ No . Keep him in my room. Lock it down if you have to, I'm not leaving him alone again. Last time I did, he got possessed.”
The soldiers’ hands waver, unsure of what to do. Hermann is technically his superior, but he still has orders.
Nate jerks his chin in allowance. “Listen to the man, he knows Dr. Gieszler the best. Just make sure there are soldiers posted and the doctor is aware. Oh, and make sure Dr. Gottlieb is given a method to protect himself.”
“But, sir, what about protocol?”
“I said do it, soldier. I will speak with the Marshal about the consequences.”
The soldier carefully does not sigh, but he does comply, so Hermann keeps his mouth shut. He refuses to let go of Newton now, so the walk back to his-their- room is as slow as a snail and Hermann can make out an impatient tic in the soldier’s jaw.
He watches the soldier carefully, making sure he doesn't manhandle Newton too roughly, doesn't blame him for things out of his control.
They eventually make it safe to their bedroom, and the bed is small, almost too small, so Jake just sighs and pushes the couch over until it's flush against the bed.
“At least now if you roll over you'll fall onto the couch.”
Hermann hums, all his focus on Newton and making sure his hair isn't in his eyes, because Newton hated when his hair got to that length, but Hermann always had a secret tenderness for hair that curled around Newton's ears.
Orderlies come and go, trying to push food into him and only managing two or three bites before he feels guilt crawl up his spine. Doctors and nurses come, hooking Newton up onto makeshift monitors and supplying him with sedates just in case .
He vaguely hears words like coma , and recovery may be slow , but all he wants is for Newton to open his eyes. Even here, now, Newton is being stubborn like a bull.
Hermann has no usefulness on the base if he is not working, but the beauty of being a scientist is that he can work from his bed and no one can tell him no.
He doesn't much prefer it, because there's no chalkboards to write his ideas on, but he makes due with his bedroom walls and chalk that wipes away easily.
The brilliant part of being a scientist is that even when there's no war, there is still research and work to be done, classes to teach from online.
He doesn't much leave his bedroom, preferring even to work with a laptop on a prop up bed desk and Newton’s head in his lap, a quarter of his body precariously close to draping on the couch.
Sometimes he wakes up at 2 am from another nightmare of watching Newton die, of watching himself get murdered, or god forbid of Jake getting hurt.
The monitor continues to beep steadily, no change whatsoever, and it lulls Hermann into a daze.
It is 2:14 am, and Hermann watches Newton’s face, looking for any flicker of life, any sign that the man he loves is fighting to come back.
He misses the furrow in Newton's eyebrows when he's feeling any type of emotion, misses the crinkles around his mouth and eyes from how much he laughs. He misses the way Newton would feel under his hands, the way he would give up control in the darkest of nights so he didn't have to exist in the there and now, giving him over so wholly that the first time it happened Hermann had broken down in tears, stammering vague words about how he didn't deserve it.
This Newton’s face is too still, too quiet.
It's been 10 years and some days since he kissed Newton. 10 years and some days since he was able to complain about his chapped and cold lips.
He leans in now, his breath ghosting over Newton's face, half afraid he will open his eyes and say “Surprise! It was all a big prank, my favorite nephew helped me!” in which Hermann will then punch Newton back to sleep, because he is the type of asshole to ruin him like this.
But he doesn't wake up, even when his lips are ghosting over Newton’s. Hermann was never the one to initiate physical contact, not even in private, so it feels as if he is jumping over a very big hurdle right now, in this dark and musty bedroom.
He closes the distance, and Hermann has never felt the need to enjoy poetry, never saw the point of it since it was all lies coated in beautiful words.
But he closed the distance, and he feels like he came home.
Hermann pulls back slowly, wanting to savor it, even though the toothpaste the doctors have been using is all wrong- too much like lemons and not enough like the kid confetti brand Newton loves.
Hermann is close enough to his face to spot it when it happens- a slight twitch of his mouth, a tic in his cheek, and his eyelashes slowly flutter open.
Hermann gasps, clutching at Newton’s shoulders tight enough to leave bruises, is left staring in awe and love and panic when Newton finishes opening his eyes. His stare is there but not quite all the way here, and they are ringed blue around the iris.
“Find me, Herm.”
Hermann is gasping, pushing feebly at Newton’s chest, whimpering cries of please, don't go, come back, I'll even stop complaining about you burning the monstrosities you call food, please .
It is 2:53 am, and Hermann doesn't stop crying until the sun rises and Jake comes in quietly, asking if he is awake.
(The worst part of these long, cold months wasn't the part where he nearly died because of disordered eating or Newton being in a coma.
No, the worst part is: the nurses swarm in each day, with the same tired doctor, and do their daily rituals. Clean, brush, and make sure he is seated adequately so his skin doesn't lack circulation.
Hermann always refuses to allow another nurse the weekly cycle of giving Newton his medication. He knows what being able to live as himself means to him, knows how intimate it is to load up the needle with the syrupy hormones, and to load it down either in his buttocks or his thighs.
These are the only time of day he willingly leaves Newton’s side, but even then he is hovering in the doorway of their little bathroom, a sandwich in one hand and the other leaning on his cane, watching them first give Newton a chemical bath and then a regular sponge bath. It is the one time of the day where he remembers to eat, because they force him to, otherwise there are stretches of days where he forgets about lunch and sometimes dinner.
He watches in the doorway, because after one nurse handled Newton too roughly, left him red and sore and bleeding in some places, they decided collectively that Newton needed a better team to help him.
The cane imprints that were left on the man afterwards certainly helped his case, as did the soldier who hesitated before pulling Hermann back and restraining him.
Hermann is not a violent man by nature, preferring to stay out of the way in the shadows, but he is a man who loves another vulnerable man.)
“I swear to you, I am not lying.”
“No, no I don't believe you are, it's just- how will we ever convince the Council that this is a good idea?”
“We?”
Jake shuffles on a chair he had pulled up, and Hermann refused to get up from the bed because the metal chairs have started hurting at week 8, when his body became too sharp.
“You're my only family left. They didn't say this at the funeral, but- well, they never found Mako’s body. Not even ashes of it. They assumed she went MIA, or something. And I don't believe she's dead. She's probably somewhere far away from this mess with her husband, raising their three kids and their dogs.
But, the point is, until I know for sure whether she really did escape, you're my only family left. I'll support you and Newton no matter what happens. Remember, it’s not like I asked to be on this shatterdome. Being told to leave won’t be the worst thing that’s happened.”
Jake brushes an embarrassed hand over his brow, trying to hide the flush crawling up his neck and ears.
“Tell them it's been nearly three months since he slipped into a coma, and nothing else is working. Tell them this is his last hope, and if there isn't any kind of good sign, then-” here, Hermann takes a steadying breath, because he already hates his next words, “then I'll agree to take him off his life support.”
Jake’s eyes fly up from where he was picking at his cuticles to meet Hermann’s, and he can see despite the shaking in his hands and shoulders, he is steady about this.
Jake nods, slowly and carefully. “Okay, give me about a week.”
Jake leaves quietly and efficiently after that, the chair dragged back into its corner where it belonged, and Hermann rolls onto his side so he can bury his face in Newton's now flat tummy.
He slings a hand around his thigh, squeezing tight for reassurance of his own. He mumbles into the slip of skin that Newton’s pilfered bed clothes offers, “I'm coming to find you, one way or another, even if I have to build my own neural machine.”
Hermann finds the energy to ask for an old fashioned stereo on day 63, and on day 64 he is playing Newton's CD's, trying to ignore the way the music makes his head hurt only because he knows somewhere deep inside Newton he is rocking out.
They become a staple after that day, different songs being played day and night, sometimes loudly and sometimes at a whisper. On day 73, Hermann has memorized nearly all the words, and likes to mumble them into Newton's skin.
It's nearly four days after their discussion when Jake comes back with a swarm of doctors and nurses, all talking at once and sounding like a hive of angry bees in this small bedroom.
Hermann feels an itch at the base of his back at the hive comparison.
“Doctor Gottlieb, if you would sign these forms so we can start the procedure.” One doctor offers him a stack of paperwork, and when he rifles through it slowly it is just a general disclosure of liability, nothing strenuous.
He signs it without looking twice, and takes the helmet one nurse was holding and strapping it gently over Newton’s head, brushing his thumb against his brow bone and jaw as he moves away.
The next he shoves into his head, not bothering to lock it properly before he is curling around Newton’s propped up figure. He holds Newton’s hand for dear life, and leans his forehead against Newton’s shoulder for extra measure.
“I'm coming for you.”
The drift is a familiar shock to the system, but he is mildly horrified to realize Newton’s memories are disjointed and choppy. He manages to latch on to the clearest one, where they are celebrating Hermann’s birthday quietly together.
It was during the war, back when Hermann felt like even more of an unlovable oddball, before they had started going steady. He should have realized then, how Newton felt for him, and Hermann feels a pang for all that lost time.
He looks at Newton instead of himself, looks at the way Newton smiles at him and clicks his tongue in his direction, all while Hermann is oblivious as usual and gesturing wildly about some new godforsaken problem with the other scientists.
“This was the moment I realized I was falling in love with you.”
Hermann jumps a mile in the air, and even before he's landed he's twisting his body around to take Newton in fully, walking and talking and breathing of his own volition.
“How-”
Newton shakes his head, and even from this angle he can see the blue around his eyes, eyes that were always a startling coke bottle green, and brought out even more by the red around the rims that never went away from the first war.
“I don't know, dude.” Newton scrunches his nose in a manner that lets Hermann knows he finds not knowing something distasteful, but admitting it to Hermann is even more so.
“I miss you, Newton. It's been three months.”
Newton stares at him with too wide eyes, “I can feel you sometimes, when I strain myself to fall back together. I feel your arms around me, but I also feel you here.” He taps at his head.
Hermann reaches out to touch him, and he is warmer than his body likely currently is, and so very alive.
“I'm going to get you out of here.”
Newton tilts his head to the side, and looks away at memory them. “I want to believe that, but Alice really messed me up, Herm.”
“Do not call that beast Alice, that monster does not deserve a shred of humanity.”
Newton locks back onto him, pinning him down with eyes that slowly crinkle in sadness. “ Alice was a part of me just as much as you are. She and I were one person, one thing for a long, long time.”
Hermann feels indignant, ready to gear up towards yelling, but Newton beats him to the punch when he lets out a barking laugh.
“Man, look at us, we haven't talked in months and we're already fighting. No wonder our parents thought we were a weird match.”
The memory is ending, he can tell in the way the edges become softer and more likely to fly away. The next stable memory he finds is of Newton as a little boy, all scraped skin and wide inquisitive eyes looking up at the trees of their manor home.
He chooses to watch the memory in the way he didn't allow himself to the first time, back when it was still too intimate. Now he has seen Newton at his best and worst, and feels nothing is too intimate.
“I really did a number on myself by falling out of that tree. My parents were so mad, they had been getting ready to go to a recital and had to find a last minute babysitter to take me to the hospital. Because they loved me, but they loved their work more. Which I get now, I guess.” Newton shrugs, as if the memory doesn't bother him even now, nearly thirty years later.
Hermann knows that is a lie, but doesn't call him out on his mask. They are both vulnerable and fragile here.
“I don't want to leave.”
The next memory is of the ocean, back before the Drift opened. It is not Japan, but neither is it Germany.
“You'll come back, I know you will.”
Newton crowds his space, and Hermann aches for it to be real, and Newton’s eyes drift lower until Hermann is aching for something else. Newton’s hand reaches out to his face, his thumb wiping away the blood dripping from his nose.
“You should go back.”
Hermann gasps, “I'm not leaving you.”
“Oh, don't be silly, Hermann. Look around, I'm completely surrounded by you. It's why the Kaiju were afraid of you, afraid of your love for me. It's the only thing grounding me in this hell place anymore. Now, come on, go. Next time we can talk more.”
Hermann is being pushed gently but resolutely out of Newton’s head, and he comes back into his own shaking, strangely empty body, nurses already swarming him and Newton to take off the transmitters and take vitals and blood and god knows what else.
He curls away from them, curls himself fully into Newton’s space, and shakes until the doctor’s have left and only family remains.
Jake doesn't say anything, just sits at the table and clacks away at his laptop, waiting for him to calm down.
He does, eventually, and manages to explain in short sentences what he saw and experienced, ready to let Jake pass it on to those who need to know.
His bedroom has long since become quiet, the stereo a mere whisper, the calendar clock telling him it is a new day but he doesn't remember if he fell asleep or not. All he can see is Newton’s face when he was saying goodbye.
He briefly considers jumping back into the Drift unsupervised, but he has heard horror stories of people who bring back more than they can chew, or worse: people who don't come back at all.
The days blend together after that, becoming one long haze of being alone in his head and being with Newton. He pushes his body to withstand the Drift longer, until one day in week two he has been drifting for nearly an hour.
They always end up back at the ocean, back to those dreaded goodbyes.
Hermann has to wonder if he's doing any good, if it's working at all, until suddenly one day Newton twitches and rolls over by himself.
Jake and him both look up from their respectful laptops, then at each other, before they both spring into action.
Jake phones the doctors in a flurry of emergencies, and he just moved goddammit isn't that important?
Hermann slings a leg over Newton’s body, now a little heavier that he has been getting regular contact with Newton again. Heavier enough that doctors stop watching him from the corners of their eyes, hands twitching towards their medicines, but still nowhere near enough to sit in the chairs again.
He ignores the cramp that moving resulted in, and instead rolls Newton back onto his back and leans over his prone body, waiting for him to make another sudden move.
He waits long enough that he has to sit back down on his haunches, disappointment starting to set in, and he lets Jake answer the door when suddenly-
Newton is once again moving, this time hands pushing the weight off his body, and Hermann goes sprawling against Newton’s legs until he wiggles those out as well.
Hermann doesn't quite know how he managed to wrestle his way back up to Newton’s face, but he is there to witness when Newton finally, finally opens his eyes.
It is going on to month four, just when everyone thought there was no hope of a miracle, and Newton finally opens his eyes.
Hermann pushes his face into Newton’s personal space, and Newton goes cross-eyed trying to keep Hermann in his line of vision. He searches for the familiar look of not quite being wholly there, or for blue, and is so relieved he doesn't find either that he lets himself sag into Newton’s sternum, not even caring that no-filter Newton hasn't said a single word yet, just relieved that this foolish plan built on hope duct taped together had worked.
He hopes he stays awake for days and days, so they can finally take him off life support.
He does, in fact, stay awake, but even traumatized Newton is still as spiteful as ever, because the doctors said even though he may look aware, he's not.
His eyes are open and when they Drift he is able to see he is processing what happens, and yet.
He is still not speaking, not moving past that initial knee jerk reaction.
They decide to push his research aside and to let somebody else grade the assignments in favor of Drifting nearly every day now, each day pushing it a bit longer and longer until even Hermann has trouble distinguishing what is his and what is Newton.
Foolishly, it seems to be working, and Hermann wants to be bitter that Newton managed to outsmart him even from the brink of wherever he was, but he is more relieved than anything. He pushes the anger to the side for when there are not more pressing matters.
Hermann loves the moments in Newton's head when they swap memories and thoughts and emotions, when he is fully surrounded in Newton's warmth and love, when there are no boundaries between them.
Newton loves just being able to communicate with someone who isn't trying to take him over.
Newton’s head looks more organized, more intact. There are still bits and pieces that look ugly and disjointed but Hermann guesses those are the parts concerning anything Kaiju or those ten years related.
The blue in Drift Newton’s eyes is nearly all gone, only a very faint outline left. There is not much else Hermann can do, all the hard work is done and now he can only support his not-husband as he struggles to piece himself back together, each day being easier than the last, each day bringing him closer to Hermann again, to the ocean he so clearly loves.
Hermann decides one day, when they're in a Drift, that after he wakes up fully and recovers they should move to a home in Britain, should move to a city outskirted by country land close enough to go on day trips to but still be near familiar things.
Newton takes some convincing, not wanting to uproot their whole lives, but eventually he gives when he is promised they can live a day or two’s ride from his ocean.
It's month five, and for once Hermann is not within the Drift, not even working, instead sipping tea and reading a book out loud to keep Newton and himself entertained, leaning into Newton’s personal space and resting his bare thigh against Newton’s.
There is a sharp knock at the door, before sharper footsteps follow it up.
Hermann looks up from his tea, indignant at the displayed rudeness, a reprimand slipping out before he can fully stop it.
“Doctor Gottlieb.”
It is Mako, and Hermann drops his teacup onto the couch, where it then rolls off and under the bed.
“They said you were presumed dead.” Hermann’s now suddenly free hand finds Newton’s, and he feels a twitch in the muscles- a good sign, he distantly categorizes.
“Do you really believe I would be so easy to kill off?” Mako grabs the chair that Jake favors, and it’s in these little moments that he can see the similarities between the siblings.
She sits as close to the head as she can, and they both take good looks at each other. Mako has grown her hair, but it is now parted completely over her left side, and when she shifts he can minutely make out burns that haven’t fully healed.
“So you didn’t escape fully intact, did you?”
Mako brushes a hand over her hair, and lets it fall down to rest on her thighs. “I could say the same for you, Doctor Gottlieb.”
“Does your brother know?”
Mako leans back, pleased, “He was the first to know. Well, technically second, because my husband was first, but semantics.”
“Where is your husband?”
“He wanted to retire, he said he was too burned out, but he also wanted to build us a home, so I funded him the resources and let him go at it. It’s a very beautiful home, perfect for children to grow up in.”
“Children- as in plural.”
Mako smiles and brushes her hands over her still flat stomach. “We just found out, the baby is already almost two months in. Dear Raleigh hopes for a mini me, but I’m hoping for another gentle boy who Raleigh can knit sweaters for.”
Hermann goes back to what’s more pressing, “You’re still alive. How can that be?”
Mako once again scoffs and looks like a cat who caught the canary. “Did you really believe I would be so easy to be done in? Even helicopters have emergency parachutes to get away. My only regret is that I took so long to get home, and that the pilot did not make it. Now, tell me about Newton.”
Hermann twists back to look at Newton who is staring down at their joined hands and touching thighs, and he wants to be embarrassed about the public display of their affection, but Hermann is just so tired .
“He has been like this for about five months, but he is getting better. He has begun having muscle twitches, and just a month ago he opened his eyes, so the doctors predict he will be moving again by the end of the month or the next.”
Mako leans over to get a better look at them both, humming to stall. “Are you not coddling him?” She asks as gently as she can, already seeing Hermann’s hackles rise.
“He went through a possession, is there such a thing as coddling in a situation like this one?”
“Hey, I just meant since you two are so attached, could you subconsciously be hindering his progress? How often do you Drift?”
“Nearly every day.” Hermann releases stiffly, body angled sharply away from hers.
“Every- are the doctor's out of their mind ? Are they trying to kill you both? Do you not realize how unhealthy that is?”
“Do not patronize me, I was aware of the risks long before I signed the forms. I was aware of the risk the first time we Drifted, nearly eleven years ago now.”
“Yes, I apologize, Doctor Gottlieb, I just-” Mako sighs, rubbing the base of her palm over her eye. “I was just suggesting that it could be possible that since you Drift so often, you could be enabling Newton to stay in his head longer. After all, there he has full bodily function and on top of that he is able to make regular contact with you, why would he want to leave that?”
“Leave.” Hermann demands, tone clipped and hurt.
Mako rears back, but she is nothing if not respectful of others feelings, and so she does go eventually after the silence has thickened.
Hermann curls an arm under Newton’s shirt, playing with the soft skin and hair on his chest and stomach. He doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to listen, but his head knows Mako is only being logical.
They don't have to Drift until the next day, and no one is planning to visit, so he lets himself drift off to sleep, body curled around Newton’s.
He dreams of the rabbit again, and this time Hermann follows without being prompted.
It leads him back to the meadow, and he can just barely see the now clean snapdragons. He doesn't spot Newton, so he settles in, sitting close to the plants so they brush against his shoulders.
“You know she's right, right?” Newton sneaks up behind him, always cumbersome even when in a coma.
Hermann curls his body into himself, fisting at the fabric around his knees. “I do not want her to be right.”
Newton sits behind him, and wraps his arms and legs around Hermann, a facsimile of the position Hermann fell asleep in. “This is nice. I see why you like to hold me so much, you clingy bastard.”
Hermann jabs an elbow into Newton’s side, “At least I am not a scalie.”
“Shut up, I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”
“No, dear Newton, you agreed not to talk about that. I never said so.”
“I hate you and your stupid loopholes.”
Hermann smiles down at his legs, leaning further back into Newton’s embrace. He traces the tattoos over his arms, and Newton allows him to remap his body, to rediscover it while animated.
“I should learn how to tattoo.”
It is so sudden and out of place that Newton just blinks, and blinks again- “I'm sorry, what?”
“I want to be able to put art on you, to ground you in more ways than just our minds and bodies.”
“Hermann, we already practically share our brains, what more could I ask for? I literally have the most intimate part of you.”
Hermann sighs, and drops the subject. He rubs his thumb over Newton’s forearm, feeling the raised skin. “Actually, you should tattoo me.”
“Hermann! Are you okay, dude? This is so out of character for you.”
“Just a small one, an atom on my ankle. Just for a reminder."
Newton hums, “Maybe, when I wake up and recover, then maybe I'll consider it.”
They go quiet again, just running hands over bare skin.
“You're so skinny.”
Hermann tenses, waiting for the reprimand that doesn't come.
“I'm working on it, Newton.”
Newt cranes his neck around so he can see Hermann’s face, see the flush on his cheeks.
“Don't hurt yourself over me. It won't help either of us.”
Hermann grumbles, “It’s hard to care when you're not waking up, when I have to watch over you.”
Newton inhales sharply, and scoots back. “Okay, okay.” Newton gets up and moves to help Hermann up, clutching his elbow when he wobbles.
Newton closes his eyes, and when he opens them again there is no trace of blue, and Hermann can almost pretend there never was. Newton brushes a hand against Hermann’s jaw, tracing it down to his mouth and down to his neck, laying a hand flush against where his heart beats.
“Find me on the other side, dude.”
Hermann wakes with an inhale, and claws at the bed sheets. He rolls over, afraid of throwing up over himself but more afraid of throwing up on Newton.
There is rustling behind him, and Hermann wants to look, but the room is spinning underneath him, in ways he doesn't understand because he knows he has been eating better, has been drinking more water than coffee, so if it is not him it must be-
There is a groan behind him, and more rustling, and Hermann’s heart pounds even as the nausea gets worse. He grits his teeth against the brunt of it, and he cannot imagine how Newton is feeling if this is what Hermann feels of the trace amounts.
“Hermann?” Newton’s voice is the sweetest sound Hermann has heard in months, years, possibly even sweeter than his Mother’s.
“ Hermann ?” There is a hint of hysteria, and Hermann rolls over to hold Newton close, to block out the light and sound that drifts in from outside.
“Is this- am I really?” Hermann nods as best he can with his head resting on top of Newton’s, because yes, by Jove, yes .
“Hermann, you’re squishing me.” Newton’s indignant voice is muffled, and he doesn't want to let go, but he does, because he is a careful person by nature.
Newton’s green-not blue, Hermann thinks, relief continuing to wash over him- eyes watch him, eyes wide and surprised. “I’m back, I’m really here… right?” Hesitance washes over Newton, and he clenches his hands into fists as best as his atrophied muscles will allow him to.
“Yes, yes, you stupid, brilliant man, you’re here again, this is real.”
Newton smiles that lopsided smile that both makes Hermann want to kiss him and punch him in the jaw.
“I find that I do not want to call for the doctor, but I know I must.”
Newton smiles wider, “Hermann, breaking the rules? Is this what the world has come to?”
“You are insufferable.”
“Yeah, but you enjoy it, so what does that make you?”
“A masochist.”
Newton laughs, bright and loud and filling all the spaces Hermann could not, and suddenly they are both crying, tears and snot mixing on the bed sheets, on their clothes and skin, and Hermann tries to pulls Newton close even as he pulls away.
“I’m a monster, oh my god, Herm, how could you possibly want me?”
“Shut up, you- you idiot . It wasn’t you, not fully, it was the beast possessing you. It’s gone, it’s gone and you’re here .”
Newton pulls back, the red around his eyes more pronounced after crying. “You’re wrong, ten years just don’t disappear like nothing. I can still feel her, in the very back of my mind, but she’s fading.”
“Tell it to fuck off.”
Newton chokes, and has to stifle laughter. “Hermann, my my, what has happened these past five months?”
“I missed you, and the Drift joined us closer than anyone could have predicted.” Hermann whispers, pulling Newton’s now limp body close, curling one leg in between Newton’s.
Newton looks at him, searches his face for any hint of fear or anger or hatred, and tears well up when he finds nothing but softness looking back at him. “How can you stand to hold me, after all I’ve done?”
Hermann shakes his head, denying it, “The only thing more important than you is science, and I cannot hold science, cannot kiss it awake.
“God, I can’t believe you’re more in love with your math than with me.”
“You have no room to talk, you have Kaiju pin-ups.”
Newton screams, covering his face with his hands. “Is it too late to go back into a coma, if only to escape my past mistakes?”
“It’s too late, you are stuck with me now.”
Newton peeks out from behind his hands, eyes soft and mouth curling up. “I guess there are worse things to be stuck with.”
Hermann chose that moment to roll back over, both in a display of trust by exposing his most vulnerable spots, and to reach over for a phone to start making calls.
The doctors rushed in soon after, buzzing with excitement and flittering around them, trying to get all kinds of samples. Newton took it as gracefully as he took everything: which was not at all. There was a lot of squirming, a lot of muttering and doctors ignoring his mutters, and Jake just snickering in the background at their disgruntled expressions.
At one point, Newton was indignant and yelled at Jake that he was the worst nephew ever, and Jake doubling over in laughter yelling back that this is karma for trying to destroy the world, which had Hermann stiffening and Newton spluttering and flipping him the bird over a doctor’s shoulder.
The most memorable part of the check over was one of the nurses calling Newton Doctor Gottlieb and Newton screaming in horror because how could he do that to him, give him that horrible last name, which resulted in Hermann and him bickering over who's last name was worse and brushing over the fact that they were illegally married.
Knowing Newton, some part of him enjoyed the fact that they were doing anything illegally.
If Hermann thought helping Newton out of his coma was hard, it had nothing on the actual recovery.
Physical therapy often left Newton shaking and gasping on his knees, unable to continue further. When he slept, there was little relief, as he often woke screaming and thrashing, his dreams leaking into Hermann’s psyche and renewing the nightmares he had been having with a vicious vengeance.
Newton was never a coward, not even as a pimply teenager who leapt before looking, but ten years of being under someone else's possession took its toll mentally and physically. On the bad days, Hermann could spot blue in his eyes, his heart aching when Newton was in the middle of doing something and he had to double over because he no longer knew what was real and wasn't, if his skin was his or if it was scaling over, where he even was.
On the better days, he wakes up and goes to physical therapy, which is then followed by hours upon hours of meetings as per his deal, which he then comes practically crawling home and collapses next to Hermann, head pillowed on his now soft thigh.
On those days, they fall asleep quickly, tuckered out from their long days, and don't always wake from nightmares.
They go back to sharing secrets at witching hour.
I didn't feel any remorse when I thought I had killed Mako.
I thought about killing you to spare you from the beast.
In those Years (because those ten years are always capitalized) I thought about writing, I even wrote you letters like we used to do, but I could never send them. I didn't feel like I could.
I would lie awake when you were gone and wish the Kaiju had succeeded in killing me, if only so I didn't have to miss you so.
It takes a year for people to stop flinching at Newton, a year longer for Newton to stop flinching at a sudden glimpse of his reflection.
Physical therapy eventually ends, the meetings taper, and Hermann decides now is a good time to leave, to uproot.
The home they choose is a cosy little townhouse, one that Newton had asked Mako to ask Raleigh if he could decorate because out of the five of them, Raleigh and Mako are the only ones with a drop of of sensibility and fashion, and Mako is too busy cleaning up post Newton’s mess to worry about interior decorating.
Their little house is just big enough where they don't feel claustrophobic, big enough where they can have separate labs but decide they don't want to, are too used to sharing lab space and bickering over the coffee pot- even knowing they have another in the kitchen not even a few doors away.
It's peaceful, and Hermann cherishes it while it lasts, because the Kaiju’s have taught him to.
Some mornings he rolls over and finds Newton sprawled out next to him, blankets half on his body but always open mouthed snoring. Some mornings he rolls over to find him missing, likely working in the lab but more than likely sitting outside on a rocking chair, blanket strewn over his toes to ward off the chill, memories blurring his eyes and trying to remember what is and what isn't.
Another five years pass, and Hermann wakes up to crying in their bathroom, and mindful of the little but rapidly growing ears across the hallway he makes his way over quietly. He finds Newton, poking at himself, crying.
“I’m getting old, dude. Look- I have grey hair and everything.”
Hermann sighs and repeats what he always does, that it makes him look distinguished, like a rock star in his prime, that they should be grateful they managed to even get to this age and didn't die before they could.
He shuts up any protest Newton can think of, kissing away his complaints until he either comes back to bed for a lie in or decides to go downstairs to make breakfast- all depending on whether the Becket-Mori family have slept over for a trip.
Raleigh, always the kindest out of their rag tag family, is the first to trust Newton again- after Hermann.
Mako and Jake take longer, as they were there in the middle of it happening, but they see the way he angles his body to be as non threatening as possible, even making his voice go softer, can see the way he strains himself and eventually forgive him for things they realize now he couldn't control.
Raleigh likes to knit Newton sweaters, the first year in their home, and Newton always grumbles but the video proof exists of him curling up in the sweaters over a good manga or an anime.
Raleigh is the first to trust Newton with his children, and when he thinks no one is looking, he wipes tears away and picks up the children with shaking hands. He plays with them, taking them out on trips so their parents can relax, walking far too fast for Hermann to keep pace with.
In year three, Hermann finally convinces Newton to tattoo him, just a small little atom made with Newton's stick-n-poke machine. It is single-handedly the worst decision Hermann ever decided, the pain is worse than everything he has experienced, and he almost kicks Newton in his smirking face.
When he comes back to, Newton is texting all their friends and laughing with Jake over Skype. This time Hermann does kick Newton over, and limps his way to their bed so he can lie down in peace.
In year six, Herman buys a new cane, all slick, dark wood that doesn't splinter easy when knocked against objects.
It’s another ten years post Kaiju-Newton, and Newton still insists on calling it Alice, saying they had a bond- a fucked up one, but it shaped him into the man he is today.
The nightmares never really stop, but they come less and less frequently, until they only come with the full moons, every now and then.
The flashbacks and hallucinations taper, and those are the worst to deal with because they never fully stop in that quiet hour between 2 and 4 am, where Hermann is laying his body on top of Newton’s like a weighted blanket as he tries to scratch at himself, to see within himself for what is real and what isn't.
It’s ten years in, and Hermann finds the certificate he had buried at the bottom of his sock drawer.
He power walks to wherever Newton has gotten himself into now, finding him in the kitchen- thankfully nothing is smoking or charred.
Newton turns around, a smile on his lips and a greeting already pouring out, love and warmth blossoming out from Newton and into Hermann's head, and Hermann rushes on before he loses his nerve.
“Marry me.”
Newton’s mouth clicks shut, and they are both left blinking in surprise.
“I thought we already were married.”
Hermann grunts in dissatisfaction, “That paper was a farce and you know it.”
“Doesn't mean I didn't suddenly become Mr. Gottlieb though- which, thanks, you asshole, I'm still not over the worst last name ever.”
“Marry me for real and we can keep both our last names.”
Newton watches him, looks at how the overcast sunlight drifts in past the kitchen curtains and highlights the sharpness in Hermann’s jaw, something that never went away despite the softness in his body growing with age.
Newton smiles at Hermann’s nervous tics, wetting his lips and working his mouth and jaw in indecipherable mumbles, clenching and unclenching his hand around his cane.
“It's gonna be a small wedding, dude, but yeah. Just make sure neither of us are allowed to decorate.”
Newton puts down the rag he was cleaning with, and moves to cradle Hermann’s face, always ready and willing to give and receive affection now.
“Let's get married, Herm.”
Hermann looks at his fiancé-husband, at his wide green eyes staring up at him and no one else is behind them, not anymore. Hermann smiles and leans back into his fiancé-husband, giving and receiving in return.