Work Text:
The first time it happened, he was certain it was a mistake. Sure, it was an oddly disturbing coincidence that it was a collection of his favourite flowers (narcissus daffodils,yellow carnations and english lavender), held together with a black ribbon embroidered with chalk white numbers, but he couldn't remember ever telling someone that information aloud. He inspected it several times for some sort of note or handwriting, anything that may claim it’s not his, before taking the bouquet and marching into the canteen of the shatterdome.
His fixed, determined glare was enough to set most attention towards himself, but Hermann was too far gone into his mission to care.
Clearing his throat, the physicist recounted, quite animatedly, the story to Tendo, too lost in his words to realize how close a sprig of lavender was to going up one of Tendo’s nostrils.
“Do you have any idea who this may be addressed to? Because I’d much rather be at work than having to deal with this, frankly, unprofessional mix up.”
Tendo sighed, subtly pushing the bouquet from his face with a fork.
“Her—”
“It’s Dr. Gottlieb, Mr. Choi. Always will be.”
“ Dr. Gottlieb , I can’t imagine anyone else receiving a bunch of flowers like these. Like, c’mon, the little numbers are evidence enough. So, unless anyone else comes up here ranting about missing flowers that are of the exact description of these, just keep ‘em.”
It took Hermann several moments to compute that Tendo was painstakingly right, and not to blush with embarrassment at his blind denial, all the while trying to think of a substantial retort. Instead, Hermann swiftly turned and left the canteen, grabbing a large water jug for his flowers as he left.
However, it took a few days for Newt to even acknowledge the now slightly withered flowers displayed on the corner of Hermann’s desk. He was in the midst of a break as Hermann scrawled his calculations on the board feverously. He never knew he was doing it, but the end of his tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth, and Newt couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous and genuinely adorable it made him look.
“Still no sign of the secret admirer, then?” Newt asked, rubbing a sprig of lavender between his finger and thumb.
Hermann glared at him over the top of his glasses, his hand frozen at the top of a zero.
“Newton, surely you would have understood by now that these flowers are merely some sort of practical joke played by one of our colleagues, or is all that kaiju blue really damaging your brain cells?”
Newt was ready to dispute it, but the words were quickly cut as they raised to his throat, thus allowing Hermann to jump in with his.
“—I’m not here for you to try and convince me otherwise, Newton. Now, will you please go take your break elsewhere, so I can
finally
work in peace and quiet. It’d be rather appreciated.”
And with that, Hermann was back to his chalkboard.
By the time the flowers had had their proper burial in the nearest bin, a box of chocolates had appeared on Hermann's doorstep at the start of the new working week. The person who had gifted them had obviously learned from their mistakes, as Hermann’s name was now swirled upon the lid in red cursive. Again, it seemed as if whoever this mysterious gifter was, they had way too much time on their hands: not only were they a brand originated from Germany (which greatly appeased Hermann’s palette), but he knew for a fact that these sweet delights had never been imported to the Hong Kong markets before.
His eyes felt a little less heavy and the corners of his mouth curled in surprise at the sight on them. As tempting as it was to eat them, he decided to take them inside, before making his way to the lab.
As the months passed, Hermann began to see the gifts as less of a cryptic joke and more of a weekly occurrence to his Monday morning schedule. He couldn’t help but ponder who this gifter was, as he used his sparse free time to try and put a face to the person behind the them. Of course, his most desired culprit had shown no signs of involvement, so he took each day as it came. He’d take his everchanging and vibrant flowers or delicious chocolates inside and continue about his day, keeping bubbling fantasties to a minimum.
But it gnawed at him. These kind transactions couldn't go on without some form of thanks, no, Hermann was brought up to recognize the kindness of others. So his only practical solution was to stay up all Sunday night in wait for his mysterious admirer, flasks of tea and paperwork at hand, ears finely tuned to any coming and goings outside his room.
The hours passed too slowly and Hermann felt the infinite numbers transforming into meaningless scribbles when the clocks turned three. Sighing, Hermann left his seat and reluctantly let his cane take him to bed.
As a rule, he never kept too many things inside his bedside cabinet: just a simple book or two and painkillers had sufficed. But his only remedy for a good night's sleep was a six-page letter he’d received on the 15th of June 2006.
He had memorized every word by now but there was something about seeing the characters that settled his soul: how several words were crossed out furiously with scarlet pen like an english teachers feedback, how the “I”s had been neglected without dots, soft “r”s veiled as “n”s, and Hermanns personal favourite: the curled decorative signature paired with a colon and a capital “D”. It was the messiest, most indecipherable letter Hermann had ever received.
But to him, it was perfect.
His legs were still hanging over the bed when his upper half slumped into the soft mattress, the weathered paper enveloping his chest.
His eyes quickly flew open. He scanned for the time: only an hour and a half had passed. It was hopefully enough to get him through quarter of the day, until his first work break...had he missed them?
He pushed himself off the bed, swearing silently for the pain to subside, as he grasped his cane and took off towards the door, swinging it wide open and—
There he stood, a selection box of Terrys Chocolate Orange strangled in his hand.
“Newt—”
“Herms, I swear I’m not the secret admirer, I-I was here to, uh, steal these because, huh, you know not everyone here gets chocolates and flowers, it's not fair you know, so—” he ripped open the lid and shoved several chocolates into his mouth “—I think it’s time you started sharin’em, alright?”
Hermann bit his top lip, suppressing the gigantic grin urging to come out, but the creases around his eyes blew his cover.
“It's a tempting idea but I think I’d rather keep the gifts for myself. So, if you’d excuse me, I’d like my chocolates back.”
His fingers slid over the ones wrapped around the box as he moved forward, closer to Newt’s face. Soon, all Hermann could taste was the sweet warm chocolate from his mouth.
Drawing back for air, Newt released his grip on the box, surrendering them to the taller man’s care.
“I guess that’s technically sharing, but whatever.”
Hermann’s grin split across his face before he erupted into giggles, face flushed red.
“Well—” Hermann caught his breath “—I believe we have at least another hour before our work begins, so if you wish to join me in…sharing these chocolates, then I suggest you come inside.”
It was now Newt’s turn to change to a rosy hue.
“ Well, if it teaches you the important lesson of—oh fuck it, dude, of course I do.”
The taller man wordlessly moved to the side and Newt quickly clambered inside towards him, just as the metal door shut.