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The whole chalk business started because Newton Geiszler couldn’t mind his damn own business. Not that he'd ever been able to, mind, but Hermann felt nostalgic for a time when this didn’t involve the biologist snooping through his bloody mail.
“What are you looking at?”
Hermann held his post a bit closer to his chest, even with the knowledge that such an action accomplished very little given that Newt was already peering over his shoulder. He reluctantly let Newt see the contents of the envelope, choosing instead to focus his attention on taming his ridiculous blush as Newt leaned closer.
“Post from my sister,” Hermann said tightly. “She’s been on a cleaning binge as of late, though heaven knows why she feels the need to send me the spoils of her efforts.”
“Oh my God,” Newt gasped. Hermann tried not to squirm in place at the resulting breath which ghosted across his ear. He was sure he wasn’t successful, but luckily Newt was far too distracted to notice.
“Are these baby pictures?” the other man screeched, snatching the photos out of Hermann’s hands.
Hermann couldn’t believe it, Newt was positively cooing over the photos of a young, sullen Hermann Gottlieb. His laughter rang in Hermann’s ears. Of course Hermann didn’t even get to date the man he liked before the biologist managed to see his embarrassing baby photos -– that would be far too conventional. Not that they were ever going to date but...
Another laugh from Newt forced Hermann to quickly curtail this train of thought. “Give those back!” he snarled.
“No way, man, this is blackmail gold right here. I thought you had me beat with all the drunken pics I’ve sent you over the years, but this definitely puts me back on top!” Newt gleefully held up a photo of Hermann’s younger self performing the Vulcan salute, pulling it out of reach when Hermann tried to snatch it back.
“Congratulations, Newton, you’ve seen me at my pre-adolescent worst. Now if you would please...” Hermann trailed off, too stunned by the look on Newt’s face to complete the thought.
The biologist’s head was tilted just a bit to the side as he stared at the last photograph, a gesture that Hermann had only managed to witness when Newt was reading a particularly engrossing novel or academic paper. A small smile spread across Newt’s face, its small curve far more subtle and sweet than that of the usual smirks that sat there. “This is cute,” he said, holding up the picture for Hermann to see.
It was a scene that Hermann was familiar with: himself in primary school, kneeling on the concrete after what had likely been a long day of class. His back was to the camera, but Hermann could picture the frown of concentration that would be resting on his younger self’s face. The camera had captured him surrounded by chalk drawings of robots and spaceships, all a bit cartoonish but nonetheless carefully drawn. Hermann himself sat in the middle of the drawings as he traced the shape of a new robot’s leg in pink chalk onto the dark road.
“Can I keep this?” Newt said.
Hermann started from his examination of the photograph, his heart beating fast and unsure as he processed Newt’s words. He was sure that he had misheard. Newt wanted a childhood photograph of Hermann? Why? “Excuse me?” he said.
Newt coughed, looking back down at the photograph. “I mean, just to keep around the lab. I’ve got a ton of pictures of me around here, you can’t just have none, dude. We’re ending that now.” Newt scrambled to his own side of the lab –- nearly tripping over his own feet, God help that man –- to grab some tape, and then proceeded to stick the photo on the edge of one of Hermann’s chalkboards.
“See?” Newt said. “Now everyone who comes in will know that Hermann Gottlieb was, at one point in his life, a human being.”
Hermann rolled his eyes, the action shaped by his incredulity that he’d almost thought to be charmed by Newt’s interest in the photo. “How ever did I get on before you?” he said dryly.
“No idea!” Newt said with a grin.
Hermann toyed with his cane awkwardly, uncomfortable with the realization that there was more truth to his own words than he would have liked there to be. Luckily, Newt didn’t seem to perceive the motion, having already turned back to stare at the photo. Hermann’s couldn’t help but do a bit of staring of his own as Newt absently tugged at his own hair in thought.
The biologist looked over at Hermann and grinned, forcing the tips of Hermann’s ears to burn as he was caught looking.
“So,” Newt said casually. “When exactly did your love affair with chalk begin anyway? Have you two been going steady ever since this photo, or was there ever a ‘will they, won’t they’ phase between you?”
Hermann knew absolutely nothing about ‘will they, won’t they’ phases, he reassured himself as he ignored Newt, trying to focus instead on his equations. Absolutely nothing about them. Of course, every time he caught Newt smirking at the photograph that day, Hermann’s cheeks flushed as pink as the chalk his younger self had been drawing with, so perhaps he could own to a small amount of knowledge.
He expected that photograph to be the end of it, honestly. He really should not have been surprised to find that only days later, all of his pristine, white chalk had mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind only pieces of…pink chalk in their place.
“Newton,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to focus on anything other than the fact that he hadn’t yet had his coffee today. Or the pink chalk. It would be nice to focus on something other than that as well.
“What’s up?”
“Believe it or not, I do not appreciate this.”
“Appreciate what?” Newt said. The poor man probably thought he was being secretive too. But he could barely manage to hide his grin, nor could he seem to stop himself from anxiously tapping his feet as he eagerly drank in Hermann’s reaction.
“This, I do not appreciate this,” Hermann said, gesturing to the colorful chalk resting innocently on his board. “I cannot use this!”
Newt squinted at him. “Is it because it’s pink? Is this a gender thing, dude? You were cool about using it when you’re younger -– you know, just because the chalk is pink does not mean-”
“No, I do not bloody well care that it’s pink, stop trying to derail my legitimate complaints with -– our shared, mind you -- opinions about gender politics,” Hermann said. “The fact remains that this chalk is colorful and disruptive. Not to mention it is hardly professional.” This last part was especially important to Hermann –- he could not imagine the embarrassment of having to present his findings to the Marshall with colorful equations of all things.
“Mmm,” Newt hummed. He’d clearly already tuned Hermann out, too deeply engaged in playing with his microscope to listen to Hermann’s complaints now that the initial prank had already been played.
Hermann sighed. He knew the futility of attempting to disturb Newt in such a state: he was simply not going to be able to find his regular chalk today. He picked up the pink chalk, squinted at it, and sighed again. Well, it hardly mattered whether his equations were professional today, did it? They were for nobody but him.
This last thought brought a small smile to his face as he watched his equations burst into color with a hint of guilty pleasure, as he wrote them out in a rapid staccato of chalk and logic.
Perhaps Newt saw that smile -– or more likely, perhaps he simply enjoyed tormenting Hermann -– for after that day, everyone started gifting Hermann with chalk. The next time Hermann and Tendo chatted in the mess, the other man left him with a packet of colorful chalk pieces; the Kaidanovskys each handed him a piece of yellow chalk in thanks after he discussed Cherno’s coding updates with them; even, God forbid, the Marshall seemed to be in on the game, for after Hermann presented his latest report –- yes, in green equations, and the whole thing was utterly unprofessional, but nonetheless somewhat satisfying to Hermann -– he found a brand new piece of blue chalk resting on his board.
“Why?” he'd asked, but Tendo had only shrugged and the Kaidanovskys had only winked. Hermann hadn’t dared to ask the Marshall, and eventually stopped everyone asking altogether.
The whole affair irritated Hermann, but he could also admit that he was uncomfortably impressed by and fond of the proceedings of the last couple of weeks. Impressed because he could not imagine what Newt was telling these people to actually convince them that all Hermann needed in his life was a large variety of different colored chalks.
The fondness came because, well. It was Newt after all -– Hermann could hardly begrudge himself for feeling just slightly touched that Newt had taken the care to instigate such a spectacle, even if it was a rather inconvenient one (Hermann never did find his white chalk).
He didn’t tell Newt any of this of course. However, he rather suspected that Newt knew anyway, given that Hermann had pretty much stopped looking for his white chalk and could hardly refrain from giving the rainbow equations a fond look every now and then.
“This is for you, bud,” Tendo said, dropping a lavender piece of chalk on Hermann’s desk before slumping onto the lab’s sofa.
“Thanks,” Hermann sighed, secretly pleased with the rarer color of chalk. He frowned, noting the bags underneath Tendo’s eyes, the way that the other man was worrying his fingernails with his teeth in distraction. “Is there something Dr. Geiszler and I may assist you with, Mr. Choi?” Hermann said.
Newt snorted at Hermann’s formalities, but Tendo seemed to recognize them as a gesture of kindness and he shook his head. “Nah. Just trying to work through the mess of circuits we’ve got to reorganize. I know exactly what it’s supposed to look like up here,” he said, tapping his head. “Problem is, it’s just a plain mess up there.” He gestured vaguely upwards, to where LOCCENT and his duties awaited him.
“I can imagine,” Hermann said, thinking to his Breach diagram. “The models we create in our minds so rarely perfectly translate to the messiness of reality.”
Newt looked up from his dissection. “Was that just you admitting that empiricism trumps rationalism?”
Hermann sniffed. “I hardly recall asking for your input, Newton.”
“I hardly recall asking for your lame comeback, dude, but here we are.” Newt turned to Tendo, who was watching their conversation with barely stifled amusement. “Tendo, try doodling on Hermann’s chalkboards -– always helps me.”
“If only because tormenting me seems to perversely improve your productivity,” Hermann muttered.
“You two are just…” Tendo shook his head, grinning. While the man seemed perfectly content to simply sip his coffee in the quiet of the lab, Hermann could still spot him occasionally eyeing the piece of lavender chalk.
Hermann sighed. “Oh, just use the chalkboard already,” he said, gesturing to one of the smaller ones that he didn’t need at the moment.
Tendo raised his eyebrows, but actually smiled as he rubbed his hands together, thinking for a moment before grabbing the piece of chalk and getting to work. From Hermann’s place on his ladder, the other man’s drawings appeared to be half-diagram, half-doodle -– which he could admit was at least a step above Newt’s purely indulgent chalk doodles.
He glanced over to said biologist to find that Newt was already watching him, biting his lip as he did so. Hermann averted his eyes, swallowing heavily. He suddenly felt hot and self-conscious. “What?” he said.
“N-nothing, it’s just…that was nice of you,” Newt said.
Hermann pursed his lips. “I can be nice. Just because I don’t often extend such gestures to you -– which I think I can be forgiven for, given our history -– doesn’t mean that I am incapable of them.”
“No, I know!” Newt said hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply that or anything -– well, I mean, you are kind of an asshole sometimes, but…never mind, never mind. It was just nice of you, okay?”
Hermann managed something approximating a nod. “Thank you,” he said slowly. The silence lingered heavily between them as they returned to work -– something that was apparently quite noticeable, given that Hermann could clearly hear Tendo try to wrangle his snort of laughter into something resembling a cough. Hermann fought the urge to lay his forehead against the cool wood of chalkboard in embarrassment. Soon, however, the silence became filled with his and Tendo’s pieces of chalk moving across their respective boards. Hermann smiled – it was one of his favorite sounds.
Soon after Tendo left the lab, word began to spread around the Shatterdome that one of Hermann’s chalkboards was free range for anyone who needed it. Hermann wasn’t quite sure whether it was Newt or Tendo who started the rumor, but he somewhat suspected the former. This was because when the Wei triplets filed into the lab -– looking as if they were unsure whether Hermann would eat them if they used the chalkboard, and honestly, Hermann wasn’t all that bad, was he? –- and hesitantly began to scribble against the board, Newt openly grinned at him.
Hermann scowled, but he only turned his attention to the triplets and said, “Honestly, there’s no need to tiptoe around about it. Just don’t be too loud and you can use the damn thing.”
After that, the triplets eagerly grabbed the red chalk to sketch out what Hermann suspected were basketball plays. After a moment of observing them, Hermann continued with his own work, still ignoring Newt’s incredulous, gleeful smile.
After that, word spread even further, and soon Hermann had at least a few visitors a week asking to use the board. He would pass people in the hallways only to notice that their hands, like his, were stained with pink or blue chalk dust. Hermann couldn’t help but wonder how he’d allowed himself to permit this, but at the same time, his chest felt tight when he saw people sharing his love for the chalkboards, when they came into the lab frustrated and left with their minds at ease after ten minutes of scratching out their ideas.
Of course, there were also perfectly logical merits to the chalkboard as well -– Hermann was fairly certain that if he were to run such an analysis, he would find that Shatterdome productivity had increased since the introduction of the communal chalkboard.
But Hermann couldn’t ignore the fact that the biggest reason that he didn't bother to reclaim the board was that he cherished the way that Newt looked at it. Newt would come into the lab and make a beeline for the chalkboard, hands proudly resting on his hips as he looked at whatever new doodles had cropped up since he’d last checked. And sometimes…
Sometimes, when Newt probably thought Hermann wasn't looking, the biologist would put a hand to his mouth that only partially covered the small smile that rested there. Newt’s dimples fairly shone with happiness, his eyes lit up as he looked at the board –- the board that Hermann couldn’t help but think of as their board. Sure, it was communal, but it was something that had come about between Hermann and Newt, something that had started as a strange inside joke between them that had rapidly expanded to include everyone else. And even with the inclusion, more often than not, it was still simply Hermann and Newt in the lab, sharing their space and their chalk and their ideas as if they'd been doing it for far longer than their few years working together.
Hermann never saw Newt doodle on the board himself, but sometimes if he came into the lab late at night he could find the residual sketches of Kaiju. Once he found a message in messy, familiar handwriting declaring that they were bringing back poker night that week. Hermann always smiled fondly at the drawings or the random messages, tracing them wistfully before Newt arrived in the lab, eventually tapping the sketches before shaking his head and getting back to work.
Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, but as his birthday approached, Hermann could not help but wonder what would appear on the communal chalkboard once the date arrived. It wasn’t that Hermann needed there to be any special message on there -– he’d been getting along quite well in his life without celebrating birthdays, thank you -- but he remembered the occasions when someone had left him an encouraging or amusing doodle –- usually simply in thanks for letting them use the board -– and he couldn’t quite quash his hopes that someone would leave him something. Embarrassingly enough, he even woke up early in his nervousness, and finally decided to just give up on sleep and go into work.
When Hermann came into the lab, however, he was not met with a colorful chalkboard. Instead, the thing was covered by a large canvas –- indeed, the canvas had been thrown rather carelessly over it, which prompted a frown from Hermann. He approached the thing and sighed, wondering if someone’s idea of a birthday present to him had been to wash the damn thing. Which, yes, would have normally pleased Hermann, but the action felt significantly less welcome in this instance.
Trying to shake off his trepidation, Hermann carefully peeled the canvas away, wincing when the dark, clean black of the board first presented itself. Except as he started revealing more of the chalkboard, Hermann was stunned to find that though its smeared riot of color had been washed clean, someone had replaced it with countless pinpoints of yellow, white, and blue chalk. Some of these pinpoints were simple specks, but some bunched together and spread into dazzling arcs across the board.
It took him a moment to process the drawing, but Hermann soon realized that someone had drawn the night sky on the board with painstaking precision, the dots separated by measurements that seemed to be far too exact for mere guesswork.
And then, crudely taped on top of the board, was the familiar photograph of a younger version of Hermann playing with chalk, alongside another one of…
“Come on!”
Hermann started, turning to find Newt standing despondently near the door, one hand adjusting his glasses in irritation while the other gestured at the board. “I spent hours on that thing,” Newt griped loudly, “and then I go to sleep for like two hours, wake up at the crack of dawn to beat you here, and you still ruined the surprise!”
Hermann glanced back at the chalkboard, running his fingers carefully along the constellations so as not to smear their delicate beauty. He tried to say something -– perhaps a thank you or why on earth would you spend hours on something that will eventually be scribbled over? –- but all that slipped out of his mouth was a strangled, “You did this?”
Newt blinked and averted his gaze momentarily. “Well yeah. It’s your birthday,” he said, as if that were a perfectly legitimate reason to practically pull an all-nighter making this.
Perhaps to Newt it was. Hermann looked closer at him and was startled to find that the other man was actually blushing under Hermann’s gaze -- Hermann smiled to himself at this revelation. “Newton, this is…” Beautiful. Incredibly precise, a product of the type of tremendous focus that I thought you reserved only for the Kaiju. Kind. “It’s, well, it’s-” Hermann was stuttering now and he quickly took a breath before continuing, trying to control his rapidly beating heart. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For this as well,” he said, nodding to the second photograph taped next to his: the one of a gawky, young Newt Geiszler pointing proudly to his own chalk dinosaurs while bearing a toothy smile for the camera.
Newt beamed at him, still pleasantly flushed even as he recovered from his embarrassment. “Thanks! I thought yours could use the company, so I called my dad and –- it wasn’t like it was any trouble or anything.” His smiled dimmed a bit as he looked at the chalkboard. “I wasn’t quite done though. I really did mean to get here before you so I could finish it.”
Hermann studied the chalkboard once more, raising an eyebrow when he could find nothing missing, exactly, but… “What star chart did you use? The amount of detail is remarkable, but I must admit that I cannot recognize some of these constellations.”
“That’s because they’re not…oh shit,” Newt said, putting his face in his hands. “Why did I do this? I thought it would be cute or romantic, but it’s just awkward and…” Newt froze as he realized what he’d just said, red spreading down to his neck and flushing his face anew –- Hermann had to say that he was quite enjoying the show.
“I meant professional,” Newt said hastily. “I thought this would be a cool, professional, science-bros type gift and…fuck.”
He looked as though he wanted to bury his face in his hands once more, so Hermann took a step towards Newt and placed a hand on his shoulder, stroking his thumb across the fabric there. Newt looked at him with wide eyes and lips slightly parted as Hermann quietly spoke: “I would very much like you to show me what you’d intended for the drawing, Newton.”
Newt nodded rapidly, reluctantly parting himself from Hermann’s grip before focusing on the chalkboard. The man gave a squeak as Hermann moved right behind him to observe his movements, and Hermann could not help but smirk slightly at the sound.
Newt’s hands moved erratically across the board, but with no less precision than if he'd been dealing with a delicate Kaiju specimen. He carefully traced together the stars and constellations that Hermann couldn’t recognize, forming words from their shapes until a message appeared to Hermann, one letter at a time: Happy birthday, Hermann! Will u go on a d8 with me? <3 Newt
“I guess it would’ve been more a present for me than for you, but I thought, hey, he likes my dumb pranks so maybe he likes me too, right?” Newt palmed the piece of chalk nervously. “And you were kind of touching my arm in a romantic way back there, and you’re really close to me now, so does that mean-”
Hermann pressed his lips to Newt’s, relishing the hint of chalk dust on Newt’s lips from all the hours he’d spent laboring over the drawing. He grinned against the other man’s lips, he could feel Newt’s responding smile against his own. This made it a bit impossible to deepen the kiss into anything more than a press of lips against lips, but Hermann couldn’t be arsed to care. It was his birthday and he was kissing his lab partner -– he thought that was plenty for now.
When they parted, Newt couldn’t seem to stop smiling -– but then again, neither could Hermann. Newt lifted his hand to stroke Hermann’s cheek, bursting into giggles as soon as he’d completed the action.
“Oh shit,” he said, “I completely forgot about the chalk.”
Hermann raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it will be just a tad bit obvious what sort of activities we’ve been engaging in if we start leaving chalk handprints on each other, Newton?”
“Please, as if the entire Shatterdome hasn't been trying to help me woo you with chalk,” Newt said, rolling his eyes before proceeding to lick the dust off of Hermann’s face.
Hermann immediately pulled back, his face twisting in disgust. “Ugh. Must you, darling?”
At the endearment, Newt only blushed and giggled again before returning to lick the chalk dust on Hermann’s cheek. Hermann sighed, but allowed the motion until Newt had determined his face was completely clean.
“Might have to dirty you up more often,” Newt said with a wink.
Hermann rolled his eyes. He wiped his face and pressed his forehead against Newt’s. “You are completely ridiculous.”
“You’ve let me carry on this chalk thing for over two months, dude. Either you’re ridiculous too, or you’re just head-over-heels for me.”
Hermann hummed, not quite disagreeing with either of those options, before pulling in Newt for another soft, dusty kiss.