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It was not a crush, of this Hermann was absolutely sure, and wanted to be perfectly clear in the matter of. His interns eye him wearily as he pulls on his coat and prepares the stack of papers he has to deliver. They politely wait until everything is sorted before one of them steps forward (looking rather like he lost a bet) to tentatively offer, "Dr. Gottlieb, would you like me to run them over instead?"
Hermann snaps his head around to look at the boy, who barely represses a flinch in response. "Excuse me?" he demands.
"Uh, it's just," he looks nervously to his peers, as if asking for help, but they're quick to act engrossed in their own studies, "just, y'know, that the biology department is all the way on the other side of the campus, and their elevator is broken, and you have, uh, work? So I thought, maybe, one of us could run it over for you, and I was just, um, offering." Hermann's stare was unwavering, and after a few seconds the intern, Mikhail, squeaks out a final, "or not."
"I am perfectly capable of delivering my own studies and reports to the biology department, thank you," Hermann snips, and Mikhail quickly nods in answer. The rest of the small group of interns stop acting interested in their work to watch the professor click out of the room, and politely wait until he was surely out of earshot before starting up their apologies and congratulations to Mikhail, as well as the ensuing gossip ("he could just as easily email it over, no problem," "he's been reading Dr. Geiszler's papers non-stop since he found out about the opportunity to collaborate," "he's eager to meet him, right? I haven't know Dr. Gottlieb to be eager about anything before").
It only seemed logical to them that, perhaps, Dr. Geiszler should be the one to make the trek to their office, but Dr. Gottlieb seemed determined so there was nothing for them to do.
And he was, in fact, very determined, and he made his way across the campus while dutifully ignoring all offers of assistance or concerns for why, in general, he was trekking across campus like that. By the time he made it to the biology building he was starting to regret his choice, privately, as he paused in front of the elevator labelled "out of order" in black sharpie on a scrap of paper. He knew, of course, that Dr. Geiszler's lab was on the third floor, and that the elevator was out of order, but he somehow started to hope that wouldn't pose a legitimate problem. He took a moment to gather himself before starting up the stairs, taking frequent breaks and trying to keep the pain from showing on his face (the last thing he needed his first impression on his colleague including was his ever-set grimace and pain-induced snappishness). When he finally, finally gets to the door, it's answered by a blonde woman with her hair swept back, and large glasses perched on her face.
"Geiszler's lab," she offers, in what sounded rather like a fake American accent (he thought she sounded native to Australia, but he couldn't he sure). He waits for her to let him in, but she remains unmoved.
"Um, are you..." he trails off, pausing, taking her in once more, "Newton Geiszler?"
"Call me Newt," she grins, and Hermann is about to sputter out an indignant 'I will not,' before a hand reaches out around the door to pull it open further to reveal a room of what look like snickering interns, and a man an inch or two shorter than the girl standing in the door glaring at her.
"Very cute," he assures, but there is a warm note to his voice that doesn't match the glare, and as he reaches for her face Hermann begins to realize it wasn't a glare so much as a squint. He pulls the large glasses off the girl's (Dr. Geiszler's?) face, and slides them onto his own, blinking a few times.
"You should seriously consider surgery, or at least contacts, dude. Your eyes are terrible." He just waves her off and she retreats back towards the other interns, ruffling her hair down into a more natural flow as the shorter man takes her place at the door, and Hermann realizes what has happened.
"Newton Geiszler, I presume?" He inquires of the man, who he believes the intern of whom had just been impersonating.
"Yeah, call me Newt," he repeats, in an easier tone like this is something he actually does say quite often, and behind him his interns burst into barely-concealed laughter, "what can I do for you?"
Hermann swallows the nervous lump in his throat, holding up the portfolio of papers and diagrams he'd been carrying under his arm. "I'm Doctor Hermann Gottlieb," he introduces, "I thought we might discuss the possibility of our collaboration."
"Call Me Newt" Geiszler looks from the portfolio, to Hermann, and back again for a moment, before awkwardly stepping aside to let Hermann in. "Uh, yeah, totally. I mean, I was gonna look everything over first, y'know, before deciding on the collaboration. I'm working on my doctorate in tissue regeneration on the side of, y'know, teaching and interns and what-not, so I'm not actually fully decided on whether or not I want to take a new project on right now," he admits, shoving piles of papers and what look like a few encased organs unceremoniously onto the floor, clearing space at a desk Hermann presumes belongs to him.
Hermann blushes a little, feeling a bit like a fool for assuming Dr. Geiszler would be as, well, excited for this project and opportunity as he had been. He should have waited for solid confirmation before tramping all the way across campus like a love-sick idiot. He set down the portfolio on the newly offered space and prepared himself for the walk of shame back to the office, but Dr. Geiszler's shrill voice stopped him. "What are you doing?" He screeches, and at first Hermann was sure he must have been yelling at an intern, but no, his eyes were definitely fixed on Hermann. "Sit down, dude, what. You walked all the way here from the mathematics department, didn't you? I'm not making you walk back, what the fuck," Hermann raises his eyebrows as the man squawks and paces about, moving things around and pushing things to the floor to move a chair to Hermann, going so far as to bump it against the back of his knees until he has to sit in it. "Do you want some coffee? We might have tea, but I don't know. Vi, do we have tea?" He calls across the room without waiting for Hermann's reply. He seats himself on the edge of his desk, rather than the clean chair tucked neatly on the other side of it, and starts leafing through Hermann's portfolio, eyes scanning for things he deems interesting. Hermann thinks this is probably what it feels like for a hurricane to hit your home.
"Uh, chamomile, maybe?" the definitely Australian girl calls back, and Hermann assumes she is Vi.
Hermann turns in his chair to face her and see that she has straightened out her clothes quite a bit and pulled her hair back into a loose bun, as apparently her aura of subtle disorder had actually been her perfectly cultivated impersonation of Dr. Geiszler. Hermann has to concede that she did it rather well, although if he'd ever caught one of his interns pulling the same stunt, he'd have them out in a heartbeat. "Coffee, please," he requests, "cream and sugar, if you have it."
"I think the cream's gone sour, but we definitely have sugar," she offers, and Hermann nods back, before carefully turning his attention back to the man he came here for. He was having a hard time reconciling the one-man natural disaster before him as the man who wrote all those papers Hermann had been pouring over borderline-religiously for the last two months. It was made easier by the fact that he was also actively trying to not think about it, if possible, at all. He tries to put on an air of ease at the situation, as Newt flips though papers, setting some on his desk next to him, leaving some where they were, even throwing a few to the ground with a slight scowl. Once he goes so far as to grimace before crumpling a paper up and throwing it over his shoulder. Needless to say, Hermann does not feel confident in the situation. He nervously sips at the coffee Vi had placed in his hands while giving him a wink and adding "I found some milk, so I hope that's alright."
After a while, the interns go back to doing their actual work, and the lab is overcome in relative silence, aside from the shuffling of papers and feet, and the faint, uneven hum of machines. Hermann waits quietly until Dr. Geiszler sets the portfolio down on his still-vacant chair and stretches his arms up over his head, popping his back (Hermann looks pointedly away when he notices the line of tattoos at the doctor's wrists as his shirt sleeves tug against the stretch. He thinks this is one thing he'd much, much rather not know about). The man lets out a loud, ostentatious half-groan, half-sigh as he finishes up his stretch and hops to his feet, starting to pick up the papers he'd tossed to the floor to return them to their portfolio. As he walks across the room to pick up and straighten out the one he'd crumpled, Hermann feels embarrassingly like he's watching a romantic partner packing up his things for him, just to shove them into his hands and ask him to leave.
"Th-thank you for your time, Dr. Geiszler," he tries to keep his tone even and the blush off his face as the doctor hands everything back, except for the papers on the man's desk, which seem to lay forgotten. He stands, tucking the portfolio securely under his left arm.
"What, yeah, no problem? I mean, thanks for coming down. Also, thanks for not once commenting on how little my interns respect me?" He laughs loudly at his own joke, and although Hermann's nerves are too shot to even fake laughter in return, he feels oddly comforted by it.
"I should have just sent everything over another way, or emailed, and I," Hermann has the irrational urge to wipe his hands on his pants, but fortunately both his hands are already occupied, "I apologize, I didn't mean to pressure you by showing up myself."
"No, hey, it's no problem dude, I just," he glances nervously away, and Hermann once again tries to quell comparing this to a break up, "it's a long walk, and the elevator's out, and you shouldn't have to... uh, I mean?" He huffs out a quick breath, although Hermann cannot tell if it's out of frustration or amusement.
"I won't take up anymore of your time, then," Hermann nods once, hoping he doesn't sound too petulant, and turns to leave.
"Uh, yeah. Wait, I mean, I'll see you around? No, uh, wait!" All at once, Dr. Geiszler is scrambling across the lab to get himself in front of Hermann and physically body-block him from the door. "What?" He laughs loudly, nervously, and draws a little attention from some of the interns. Hermann can't help but blush a little as he feels their looks. "I mean, I'm keeping some of your papers, I hope you don't mind, I wanna go over a few of them more thoroughly. Would it be easier for you if I called or emailed later?" Hermann gives him a look. He can't be sure exactly what his face is doing, or what he means by the look, but it must be A Look, as all at once colour floods high on Dr. Geiszler's cheeks, but he stands his ground.
"Email," Hermann answers after an unnerving pause, "the lines are usually quite tied up."
"Cool, yeah, I'm not ace at phones anyway," he admits, grinning, and Hermann nods numbly. After another uncomfortable moment, Dr. Geiszler steps to the side, freeing Hermann. "I, uh, look forward to working with you," he adds, nervously? Hermann nods, turning away to shuffle back towards the door. "Oh, and Hermann?" At this, he turns, ready for a talk on professionalism, but he's met with, "call me Newt, seriously."
"I will not," Hermann assures, and hears the man snort as he makes his way out the door. It's a long walk back to the mathematics department, but the unique mix of excitement and irritation flooding Hermann's veins makes it seem much more bearable (it helps that he only has to go down the stairs, as well).
+ + +
"It isn't weird, Vanessa," Hermann scoffs into his cup of coffee, phone pressed against his ear as he does his best to lean nonchalantly against the wall of the main building (he was not an exceptionally nonchalant person, so his feigned nonchalance was really more of a dead give away that he was trying, to begin with), "we are colleagues, we're working together, it's only logical we talk, Vanessa."
"Oh, don't you use that tone with me," she snips back. "You're writing a paper together, for God's sake. You should be emailing, maybe calling, yeah? Or, at the very least, setting up meetings with the man. Hermann, what you're doing is called stalking."
Hermann gasps, only acting slightly more offended than he actually is. "Vanessa, that is not what this is!" He quickly lowers his voice as passing students eye him wearily, "I'm simply orchestrating meetings. He's very busy, I don't want to trouble him, so I just thought... perhaps it would be easiest to chat on the go, when he's just moving from place to place."
"Have you got his schedule memorized?" She asks in a knowing tone, and Hermann glances around nervously.
"Don't be ridiculous," he mumbles, "I don't know where he is all of the time - to be perfectly frank, I don't think anyone could, the man is all over the place."
"So you're saying you tried, but he eluded you," her voice raises a pitch in insinuation. She wasn't exactly wrong, so Hermann remains quiet. "You are unbelievable. You're roaming all around the campus to meet up with him while he's walking from building to building, Hermann."
"It's good exercise," he defends, but in actuality it wasn't doing his leg any favours, especially as the weather got colder. "I'd just go to his office while he's taking lunch, but his lunch breaks are rather untrustworthy, as is the biology department's elevator. The last time I tried to talk to him during lunch, he was having one of his interns feed him pretzels while he rifled around inside a cow's chest cavity."
"That is super gross and I never wanted to know it," Vanessa practically sneers.
"Biologists," Hermann sighs in exasperation.
"Oi!" Hermann nearly drops his phone and coffee as he spins slightly to catch Newton (he dropped the prefixes within the first week, upon the man's insistence, but only in private) grinning lopsidedly at him. It was, unfortunately, 'casual Friday' for Newton, so he was wearing his usual skinny jeans but now with a tee shirt of a band Hermann's never heard of under a rather ratty looking hoodie. "I hear you over there, talking shit about biologists. Not cool."
"I," Hermann hesitates, trying to sort out the list of things he needs to do, and in what order, "I have to go, I'll text you later," he says into his phone. He hears Vanessa's voice as he hangs up, and feels a little guilty, although he has a rough idea what she'd been saying anyway. He pockets his phone, and looks back to Newton who seems to be waiting for him, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, looking like he'd like to be out of the cold. "Eavesdropping is unbecoming, Doctor Geiszler," he tsks, turning to walk inside.
"You're the one standing around a school muttering about biologists, dude," he snarks back, intentionally using 'dude' in retaliation for 'Doctor Geiszler.' "I was just running in to drop off a reference book," he adds, waving the large book as proof, and Hermann stifles his 'I know' in favour of nodding curtly, "hey, is that coffee? Do you mind if I just have a sip, I'm running on nothing but I don't have time to go out for any, and we're out at the lab thanks to Dakota, who, by the way, would make the worse housemate ever, in case you were shopping around or something. They are straight up the monarch of using the last of something and leaving the empty container deceivingly where it always is." Hermann places the gender neutrality with the shortest of Newton's interns (still just slightly taller than Newton himself, as they liked to remind him constantly), who was also solidly Hermann's favourite but had been too nervous to question the name of, so late in the game.
"A shame, I'd been considering asking them to move in with me," Hermann jokes with a straight face, delighting in the moment it takes Newton to realize before a smile smothers his expression.
"Coffee, though?" He points to the cup to drive his point home.
"Oh, yes, I can get another cup at my office," he hands the cup over, nearly dropping it at the brief rough brush of Newton's fingers against his. He watches the biologist take an unhesitating sip from it before almost spitting it out.
"Oh my god, you call this coffee?" He gags, giving the cup an affronted look, and all at once Hermann recalls the man takes his coffee black.
"Ah, sorry," he reaches for it again, but Newton pulls it away.
"Nah, s'cool, I'm desperate," he takes a second, more composed sip of the beverage.
"I could fetch you a cup from my... office," Hermann offers haltingly, watching the incredulous look on Newton's face.
"What, walk all the way to your office, then to mine, then back? It's cool, man, I'll manage. You do way too much walking as is," Hermann grimaces a little, "like, you're everywhere, I run into you almost every time I leave the lab, which granted, isn't very often, but even still you show up sometimes on days I don't leave. That's way too much, I couldn't even imagine, I hate walking." He turns abruptly to the woman behind the desk of the reference library, setting down the heavy book he'd been carrying and talking with her briefly, bouncing on his heels again, this time with an edge of nervousness. When he's done, he shoots out the door and waits just outside of view for Hermann to quickly hobble after him. He chooses not to comment on the matter, out of respect (and, a little, fear). "What I'm saying is, you oughta take is easy, y'know. 'Steada, uh, what it is you are doing. Can't be good for the health."
"Walking is healthy, Doctor Geiszler," he snips back, feeling rather put off by the whole thing. Was he trying to ask him to stop coming by his lab, or was he commenting on Hermann's leg? He wasn't fond of either of those options. "Surely you walk, as well."
"Eh," he shrugs, but it turns into a roll of his shoulders, "I pace, I guess. Scurry, a little, maybe. A dash of storming," he hums, taking another sip of Hermann's coffee.
"You're walking now, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I mean, because I'm walking with you. Normally at this point, it would be more like a scurry or, uh, like, anxious jogging? Which is less like jogging, and more like running, but not running like going for a run running, but like running away running," he winces, and rubs at his five o'clock shadow, glancing the opposite direction of Hermann, and finishes with a final, "uh."
"... I appreciate you keeping my pace," Hermann answers after a beat, and Newton nods quickly in response. They mutually pause outside the door of the main building, looking in their respective directions.
"Thanks for the, uh," Newton lifts the cup, still avoiding Hermann's eyes, and Hermann quells his panic, his wondering did I do something wrong in favour of a nod.
"Of course. Tell Dakota of my disappointment in the loss of them as a potential flatmate," he answers, and watches the quick but earnest grin that flashes across Newton's expression.
"I'll email you. Catcha later. Yeah."
Hermann watches for a moment as Newton takes off in what looks very much like a scurry, before he pulls out his phone to text Vanessa about the events, just to get them off his chest, although she predictably laughs at him, especially when he wonders at Newton's change of mood post-library, and if perhaps the librarian was an ex from a nasty break up, or any other variable possibilities. She points out it was far more likely Newton had an anxiety disorder. Hermann didn't much like that either, for the biologists sake, at least.
+ + +
Despite it all, Hermann continues running into Newton of his own accord, and occasionally stopping by the lab (bringing a bag of coffee grinds with him the first time, tsking at Dakota who gives him a grin in return), although each time Newton seems more indignant, asking why his interns never brought the things Hermann needed to deliver, and who kept making him walk all that way, until Hermann slowly stops showing up there, and at Vanessa's insistence to just talk to him, Hermann, you can't keep literally stalking him forever, he slowly stops seeking him out elsewhere, instead emailing him information and occasionally sending an intern to deliver anything he doesn't have the patience to scan. After about two weeks, Vanessa starts expressing her distaste for this plan of action, as well.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Vanessa, I've asked you not to call me at work," Hermann sighs, ignoring Jasmine's curious look (as the only intern who wasn't taking a lunch break at the time, instead trying to wrap up her work, which Hermann can appreciate).
"Oh, shut up, we both know you're on lunch break. Just drink your soup and let me nag you," she huffs, and Hermann stares despondently down at his thermos of pumpkin soup. "I didn't want you to back out of communication with him entirely, Hermann. Why can't you just send one little professional email, 'Dear Newton Geiszler, I'd like to inquire after the nearest time you'd be available to meet up with me to discuss some of our work in person. Sincerely, Hermann Gottlieb,"" she imitates him, adjusting her own brisk British accent into his odd mix of British and German almost too flawlessly.
"Doctors," Hermann mumbles after taking a sip of his soup.
"I just can't understand how it's more nerve wracking than what you've been doing, love," she sighs over the phone, and Hermann does feel a little bad. She only wants what's best for him and, he suspects, she often knows what's best for him better than even he does. And he knows he's being rather obtuse.
"I know, it's all a bit silly," he admits.
"You always get a bit silly about your crushes, yeah?" She teases easily, and Hermann nearly spits out his mouthful of soup. Jasmine gives him another concerned look, but he waves her away.
"Vanessa, can you please not," he hisses under his breath, and she laughs with the phone pulled away from her face, sounding like distant bells, and he feels taken back to high school, and remembers the fumbling idiocy of his crush on her, and knows immediately she is right, and he ought to give up the fight. He has a crush, an honest to God crush, and at his age! He knows, surely, it started with his fascination of the man's intellect, but he also knows how quickly and easily he was drawn into his off-kilter charisma, as well.
"Ah," she breathes, back close to the phone, "so will you email him?"
"I will consider it. Will you let me take my lunch now?" She concedes, begrudgingly, and hangs up to let him eat. Hermann feels a little bad, for a moment, for lying to her, as he knows he will absolutely not be emailing Newton anything but paperwork. Although he does occasionally draft a few emails asking to meet, none of them meet the expanse of the world wide web.
Another two weeks pass before there's a knock at the door, and Elizabeth answers it, expecting one of Newton's interns with some papers. Hermann's at his desk, working, and calls for her to just bring them over, holding his hand out blindly for them. Instead, he finds a cup of coffee set in his hand, and looks up to find Newton grinning at him (he's wearing a Godzilla shirt, for God's sake), and finds himself at a loss for words.
"Newton," he greets, surprised, and the man's grin grows impossibly wider.
"Hey, I was swinging by to drop off these," he showcases his point by dropping the disorganized pile of papers onto Hermann's desk, paying them no heed as they scatter, "and to talk about a few things with the project, if you can, if you have time, I mean. And that's," he points at the coffee, "for the coffee, before. The point's a little, uh, I mean, I actually made that coffee with the other coffee you gave us, but. It's the thought, and all?" He's leaning his hip up against Hermann's desk, nervously glancing around, and after a moment Hermann collects himself and sets the coffee down.
"Mikhail, could you find Doctor Geiszler a chair?" He asks, and the man springs into action, pulling one over and awkwardly setting it down on the opposite side of his desk, reasonably. Newton grabs it and swings it around to sit at the side of his desk, closer to Hermann. They discuss the project, and Newton only steals two sips of coffee throughout the entire endeavour. Eventually he catches a glimpse of the clock and stands abruptly, almost knocking over his chair (although making no active attempts to rescue it).
"Shit, I gotta bolt, I'll, uh," he glances awkwardly to Hermann and then around the room, before looking at the door and finishing, "catch you later, yeah?"
And he does, to Hermann's surprise. Newton starts to visit his office regularly, often toting in gifts in the form of coffee and pastries for him and his interns, and they even bump into each other a few times outside of the office again, although not nearly as often without Hermann pulling the strings, and Newton remains notoriously reclusive. Vanessa seems oddly smug when she receives the information, but Hermann decides not to dwell on that. He especially doesn't tell her about running into Vi and Dakota, and their detailed explanation of exactly when the elevator would be fixed and begging him 'please, come and visit, Newt is getting insufferable, and we promise we won't even tell him the elevator is working, so it'll be clean, and it probably won't even smell like noxious chemicals.' He does, though, visit the day after they told him it would be fixed. He finds the usual out of order sign on it in a script he can now recognize as belonging to Newton Geiszler, but despite it, upon closer inspection, the elevator seems operational, and he assumes the sign was left simply to ward off the biologist himself.
He reaches the biology lab to find Newton screaming, although maybe it would be better described as screeching or, even, engaging his mouth somehow in a verbal car accident. He grimaces at the noise, stopping in the doorway, but holds his ground until the biologist notices him and quickly but briefly turns a bright red. "Y-yeah, look, you're incompetent, but I'm gonna need to call you back. What, yes I still want the order replaced, you-" he stops himself, taking a deep, shaky breath, "I will call you back with the information, when I have time, which I do not right now. Yes, I am busy, I'm a very busy man.... Oh, oh wow really? Name calling? That's how we're gonna do it?" Vi has crossed the room and is handing Hermann a cup of tea just as Newton lets out another inarticulate scream.
"The delivery place botched a bunch of our samples," she explains, looking rather tired herself, although Hermann imagines that could easily be from listening to Newton. There's no telling how long he's been at it. "I'm glad you stopped by, it'll help him wind down," she smiles brilliantly and walks away again before Hermann can say anything in his defence.
"Do you know how many doctorates I have, dude? I have five! Five! I am working on my sixth! How many doctorates do you have? What, oh, none! Really!!" Hermann clears his throat loudly, reminding Newton of his presence. "That was mean, and I acknowledge that, there's a chance you couldn't afford college, and even still it's not like everyone needs a doctorate, obviously a doctorate isn't needed for, uh, whatever it is you do. Being a CEO of a delivery company. I haven't slept in, like, three days, and I have a mathematician clearing his throat pointedly at me right here, man, can I please just call you back, or have someone call you back?" He breathes loudly, or more accurately heaves, trying to readjust his systems. "Yeah, that's fine, that can happen. Thank you. Hey, what-" he pulls the phone away from his face and gives it affronted look. "He told me I sound like a bag of rusty nails and hung up on me!" He huffs, looking to Hermann as though for solidarity. Instead, Hermann can hardly repress a quick snort of laughter, covering his face.
"Wait, Hermann?" Newton blinks at him, setting the phone down finally, "what are you doing here? What did I say about walking all the way over here! And the stairs! What did I say, dude?"
"I managed quite fine," Hermann assures, approaching the other man's messy desk and carefully setting his empty mug on a clean space.
"Oh, what, who gave you tea?" He immediately looks up at Vi and squints at her as she carries on with her work. "Oh, yeah, play cute, I see right through you," he tsks at her, before turning his attention back to Hermann, "well, that's cool, are you hungry?"
"Excuse me?" Hermann intones, and Newton gives him a funny look.
"Uh, do you require sustenance?" He tries again, "I was gonna go out, for lunch. Late lunch. Early dinner."
"It's 7:30 pm, Newton," Hermann feels compelled to inform him.
He purses his lips, mouths 'Newton' to himself once, before shaking it off, "dinner, then, I guess? Is that, like, a dinner time? I'm guessing by your tone it is. Do you wanna catch dinner?"
"The, ah, the cafeteria closed hours ago," Hermann reminds, starting to feel seriously worried about the man's reclusiveness.
"Not at the-" he breaks off, turning away to make a frustrated noise, before turning back around. "Not here, in town, I was thinking German, but I'm open to suggestions. If you're amiable."
"Don't use that tone with me," Hermann warns, and a grin breaks out across the biologists face, but he was clearly fidgeting nervously. "Well, if you don't mind stopping by the mathematics department to close up, German sounds fine," he offers a small smile, in hopes it will sooth Newton's nerves, but instead he shoots off, making a quick whooping noise.
"Awesome, cool, you guys're all doing your things, right?" He gestures to his interns like they're a hivemind and they answer an uncomfortably in sych 'yeah.' "Cool, Vi, I'm leaving it to you to call back the delivery place!" She makes an upset noise, turning to face them with her best expression of exasperation. "No buts, you know what you did, this is all you. Tonight, before 8:30, or tomorrow morning. All my notes for it are on my desk, er, somewhere. Cool. I'm out!" He practically tows Hermann out of the room and towards the stairwell. It takes Hermann a moment to notice, but when he does he redirects Newt to the elevator, and ushers him inside despite protests. "Dude, what," Newt states, and stares at Hermann as though that's all that needs to be said.
"Yes, Newton?" He sighs.
"How long as the elevator been working, exactly?" He demands.
"Yesterday, I beli-" he's cut off with a start as Newton smacks his chest with the back of his hand.
"Wait, no, stop calling me Newton, dude, what is wrong with you?" Hermann rolls his eyes and waits for the man to get back on track. "Wait, did you just say yesterday? Oh my God, are you kidding me? Did the interns tell you about this? They did, didn't they. They were hiding this from me? Oh my God, they are my interns, they don't hide the operational functionalities of building-wide equipment from me. I hide that shit from them as, like, a hazing ritual, or something."
"And you wonder why your interns don't respect you?"
"What, they totally respect me. I mean, where it counts, at least. They respect me like how teenagers respect their embarrassing and sometimes awful parental figure."
"Newton, do you view yourself as a parental figure to your interns?" Hermann asks, a little worried, and not bothering to hide the worry from his voice.
"What? No, that's not what I meant, I meant that that's like how they feel about me, probably, in a way. Not that I've really checked with them about it, I just mean that's how they treat me, with a large amount of embarrassment, and a smidge of fondness, and a pinch of an undying grudge." Hermann stares blankly at him, letting him run through his comparisons all on his own, before the elevator dings and the doors open and he steps out without a word. "Ah, man, don't be like that. Now you think I'm super weird and trying to, like, figuratively adopt my interns, or something. I can't handle this on top of you calling me 'Newton' all the time."
"Would you prefer Doctor Geiszler?"
"Dude, we're in solid territory where it's obvious that 'Doctor Geiszler' means you're mad at me."
"Is that so?" Newton nods, shoving his hands in his pockets as the brisk late fall air hits them, "and what, pray tell, do you call me when upset?"
"Uh," Newton rolls his shoulders, perhaps a shrug, "nothing, really, I don't get mad at you. If I did, I mean, you'd know, I wouldn't call you anything, I would probably just be screaming. Crying, maybe, depending on what you did."
Hermann had not anticipated such an honest answer, and takes a moment to compose himself, sorting through his emotions and classifying them all as 'instead: never drive him to feel that way.' "So, I assume, Doctor Newt is not an agreeable compromise?" He asks eventually, when he has his wits about him again.
The biologist snorts, quickly covering half his face and trying to hold it in. "Suffice to say," he rubs his jaw and glances at Hermann, "only my mother calls me 'Doctor.'"
Hermann wonders at the layers of the statement. How much it was a joke, or a half-truth, a self-depreciating jab at himself. He thinks of Lars, and 'My son, Doctor Hermann Gottlieb,' but mostly he wonders. "Then, I suppose, if no other alternatives are available," he concedes, "I'll have to call you 'Newt.'"
The man's face lights up, and Hermann thinks he even bounces a little, possibly skips. He foregoes the parking lot, a blessing considering Hermann does not want to imagine Newton behind the wheel of a vehicle, but his hopes are soon dashed when he stops just outside of campus. At first, Hermann thinks he is merely admiring the motorbike, because it is there, and that is who Newton Geiszler is, but he soon realizes with growing horror that he is in fact stopped at the bike, and is in fact grabbing the helmet hanging precariously from it, and pulling his keys from off his belt loop, and Hermann stops dead.
"No," he says, believing his point should be perfectly clear.
"What?" Newton looks up, only briefly confused, before his entire expression takes on that of a child who hasn't gotten their way, "what, man, c'mon! I'm a safe driver, totally, and the place I have in mind is a bit far for walking. I mean, like, it's doable, I guess, but," Newton makes an aborted gesture, and Hermann realizes that Newton is, again, trying to take Hermann's leg into consideration. The sentiment, at this point, is appreciated, but one look at the motorcycle reminds Hermann that this is absolutely not the way for Newton to be expressing it.
"No," Hermann repeats, "and, once more, as I see it hasn't sunken in: no, Doctor Geiszler."
"Oh, what, no, don't," he sputters, almost dropping his keys, "it's cool, okay," he hangs the helmet back on the bike in a way Hermann is almost positive he is not actually supposed to. "I'll, uh, call a cab? Or, we can go somewhere closer. Not German, obviously, but there are a few alright places around here you might like. Or, do you drive?"
Hermann lets out a breath, half exasperated half relieved. "I do not, but I'm fine with either a cab or another venue," he agrees. Newton looks like all his best laid plans have collapsed in front of his eyes.
"There's, uh," he makes a vague gesture, and Hermann waits a beat before taking over.
"The Thai place is close, I believe." Newton pulls a face and shakes his head. "The Valley Diner," Hermann starts planning a list when Newton quickly shakes his head again. After five other establishments, Hermann makes an irritated noise instead.
"I'm sorry, I'm kind of, like, banned from most local establishments? People get so weird about short, scruffy bipolar dudes covered in blood and formaldehyde eating and, uh, yelling in their places. Which, like, they're set up by a college, y'know. I can't be the weirdest thing they get."
"Newton," Hermann calmly waits for the man's protests of 'aw, come on' to die down, "have you considered showering before dining out? I worry a bit for your safety."
"What, I wash my hands. It's just, it gets all in the clothes, y'know. And the smell just, like, sticks to you!"
Hermann wrinkles his nose and mumbles, "ah, yes."
"Did you seriously just do that. Dude, wow. Get on the bike." He picks up the helmet and shoves it into Hermann's chest to make his point. Hermann makes no move to hold it. "Come on, just trust me here, I'd never endanger your life. I don't have all that much reason to endanger mine, either. It's between-doctorates Geiszler you really have to worry about."
Hermann doesn't much care for his joke, but he begrudgingly puts on the helmet and Newton beams at him. He notices, of course, that there is only one helmet available, but decides to forego any more arguing on the matter. The biologist fusses over him getting on, asking if he wants help, or if he wants to get on first, and after a moment they get settled on, Hermann's cane against his side, held in place under his arm. Newton, of course, snorts and guides Hermann's arms around his waist, adding a predictable, "don't be shy." Hermann hmphs and wraps his arms tighter, still starting when Newton revs the monster into life. He thinks Newton drives rather slower than his usual, and makes a point of obeying every arbitrary traffic law on their way, which turns out to be a rather short trip after all, and Hermann's a little happy they didn't call a cab.
Somehow, it isn't until they're walking into the surprisingly nice German establishment, and being shown to their seats, that Hermann realizes. He is going out. For dinner. With Doctor Newton Geiszler. No, no, with Newt. And not at a diner or hole-in-the-wall dive bar (who gets kicked out of every local diner?), but at a rather nice place. They get a table by a window, overlooking the street and small collection of potted flowers and herbs outside. There's a wine menu Newton looks at appraisingly for only a second, before turning away in decision. Hermann wonders if, perhaps, he may have missed a social cue.
They order, and Hermann lets Newt steal from his plate with only minimal mumbling, and Newt insists Hermann steal from his. Newt asks Hermann about his family, briefly, enough to glean what is up for discussion and what isn't. Newt asks everything of Hermann like that, really. Like he's being careful, picking carefully at a bit of everything, just testing to see where he is allowed and where he isn't. He asks about Hermann's childhood, asks about being born in the resort town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, makes tentative jokes in their shared mother tongue, asks about Hermann's maths, and where he found them first. Everything is tentative, careful, but Newt doesn't give him a chance to ask anything back.
He'd just placed an order for desert when, finally, Hermann takes the leap, starting the way Newt had, asking about family. He's surprised when Newt opens like a book under his hands, his eyes light up like he's surprised Hermann cared to ask at all, before he's regaling tales, telling everything, or everything as far as Hermann can tell. He doesn't need to pry into anything, if he so much as twitches with interest in a detail Newt has given, the man will notice, and break into a separate tangent about it. His mother sends him one card a year, for his birthday, addressed to Dr. Newton Geiszler. He admits he thinks she means well, she means to show respect, the kind Hermann demands, she must think Newt wants to preen, wants her to think highly of him. He admits, too, that he doesn't. It matters that she thinks of him at all, besides a circled date in her pocket planner.
He doesn't believe she actually uses a pocket planner ("You do, though, don't you? You seem like a pocket planner kinda guy. Ain't no shame in it, I mean").
Hermann knows a lot by the time they're arguing over the bill. What he doesn't know is if they just had a date. It felt like a date, it had all the markers of a date, and Newt is rather insistent on paying the bill ("dude, you rode a motorcycle for me, just let me do this"), but all of that means nothing fundamentally, because Newton Geiszler is a rather unpredictable person. Hermann cannot plot his behaviour regularly enough to tell if this falls under his historical norm.
After Newt pays the bill and Hermann picks up the tip, they hit the street again. They get three steps out the door before Newt checks his phone and stops dead in his tracks, quickly looking up and then all around, scanning the streets. "Newt?" Hermann calls back, and Newt visibly flinches, meeting his eyes with a sudden but not altogether uncommon nervous energy.
"Yeah, sorry, uh," he looks back at his phone and half-jogs to quickly catch up to Hermann. "Hey, hm, uh, did you know?" He laughs nervously, and Hermann waits a moment before he realizes the man honestly expects an answer.
"Could you bit a bit more specific? I know many things," he reminds patiently.
"The interns, my interns, I mean. Of course, my interns, not yours. You put the fear of God into yours or something, they're awesome. Mikhail actually asked me if he could send my family a Christmas card this year, how crazy is that?" Hermann clears his throat to get the man back on track. "Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah. My interns started a bet, like, an actual pool I mean, bookie and all," and he stops again, with an anticipatory silence.
"On?" Hermann urges, and Newt lets out a loud breath, looking startling when it comes out as a white puff in the crisp air.
"Us?" Hermann can tell, of course, that Newt is putting on a forced air of casualness. Mostly because he is terrible at it, and all of his body language screams of his anxiousness, and even though his tone tries to brush it off, it's a full octave higher than usual, which for him is painfully noticeable.
"Hardly professional," Hermann acknowledges, wondering if his voice was shaking, actually?
"Yeah, maybe I should start actually, like, disciplining them. Treating them more like interns and less like spoiled grandchildren," he laughs with a manic edge, or slightly more than usual. Hermann huffs a laugh out, side-eyeing the man. "Yeah, no, I'm more likely to demand half the money and letting them carry on."
"How did you find out?" Hermann asks, because he's curious, and the subject feels relatively safe.
"Oh, Kaylee just texted me. You know her, yeah? She's the one who sprays perfume all over," Hermann considers reminding him that, actually, that's air freshener, and the fact that he thinks it's perfume explains a lot, but he doesn't.
"You text your interns?" He asks instead.
"Yeah, I know, I admit that's a little weird. Mostly it's just professional stuff. Occasionally exciting life events. Like snowfall. Or snowmen. Or funny signs." Hermann's grimacing at him, so Newt quickly redirects his attentions. "She, uh, was walking by and saw us. Which, first of all, she said she was sick today, so I'm impressed in her conviction to bring this up even though she had to throw herself under the bus like that. But, yeah, she asked if we were on a date, and said they had a bet going on and everything. And, I mean, y'know, it obviously..." he trails off, and Hermann waits for him to finish. He doesn't. Instead, again, he's looking at Hermann like it's his sentence to finish, or like he's waiting for another answer to an incomplete request. Hermann raises his eyebrows, resolute in keeping the ball solidly in Newt's court. "Obviously," Newt finishes like he's agreeing with something Hermann's said, and Hermann honestly cannot believe this man.
"Newton," he starts, and Newt visibly swallows, twitching his hands. "Newt," Hermann corrects, at the same time Newt blurts out a loud, "yeah, no, of course!"
"Newt," Hermann starts again, and the biologist turns bright red, averting his eyes, looking awkward and closed off and really the opposite of what he'd been while they'd been enjoying dinner. "Newt," he repeats, "if you would be... amiable," he admires the quick flash of a smile on the shorter man's face, "I'd like to do this again sometime. Possibly, with less arguing over the venue, maybe a tad more planning. Not too much, of course, I can imagine how you might not be fond of anything too planned."
Newt is grinning then, still unable to meet Hermann's eyes. "But the motorcycle is still alright?" He teases.
"Oh, I think I'm growing a little fond of it, to be honest."
"I knew you would," he says in a voice that means he very much did not. He looks at Hermann then, and Hermann rewards him with a small smile. "Do you want a cut? Of the profit, I mean."
"Oh, honestly," Hermann huffs in exasperation, and Newt laughs, pulling out his phone again. "You're telling them, aren't you?"
"Uh, should I not?" He's earnest, his thumbs paused over his keypad, and Hermann waves him to continue. Hermann forgets they're getting back on a motorcycle until they're back on it, but he really does feel better about it than the first time.
Vanessa, of course, is very smug when he calls her later that night. She's all 'I told you so's and 'you? A motorcycle??'s, but she warms into 'congratulations' and 'you sound happy,' so by the time they hang up he decides it's all fine.
Two weeks later, Dakota sends him a ridiculous invitation on expensive-looking card stock to attend a party Newt's interns are throwing for the two of them, of course taking place in the biology lab, during school hours. It includes an open invitations for Hermann to invite anyone else he'd like. Newt texts him 1.2 hours after receiving the invite with the longest 'I'm sorry I had no idea they were doing that you don't have to come' text Hermann had every seen. When he sees Newt, he reiterates the sentiments in words, but he looks rather hopeful anyway, and once Hermann interns catch wind of the entire thing, their enthusiasm seeps into their workplace, and it ends up being easier to just go to the damn thing.
It's not as bad as Hermann had expected. It's mostly just them and their collective interns, as well as a few miscellaneous teachers who had, apparently, been invested from afar thanks to the interns. The biology lab is surprisingly clean, most of the jarred organs and Newt's small taxidermy works and experiments are somewhere out of sight. Kaylee sprayed the place down with air freshener, although it smells mostly like a mix of lilacs and stomach acid. It was hardly noticeable once everyone had gotten used to it.
There were German hors d'oeuvres and champagne, and it was nice, and Newt walks him back to his flat (forgoing offering a ride, as they'd been drinking), and kisses him for the first time outside his door. Hermann takes off his coat and sets a kettle on the stove before he's back out the door, offering Newt to stay the night, "since it's December, it's cold out, and you can't drive, and you live out of town, and, yes, well," and Newt accepts, coming inside and looking around tentatively, again like he wasn't sure he should, like it wasn't his to see.
"How much Godzilla have you actually seen?" He asks, when Hermann comes back with a cup of tea, and Hermann doesn't know what answer would have meant they didn't spend the entire night watching Newt's favourite Godzilla movies, but the one he gave definitely wasn't it.
As far as dates go, it wasn't either of their worst, even when they bickered over science and Newt's vague answers regarding "you don't believe this sort of thing could really happen, do you?" They fall asleep on the couch, both feeling stiff but warm in the morning.
And it was nice.