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It became a tradition that whenever Hermann was stressed out, Newt would make him a cup of tea. Newt wasn’t totally sure when it had started. But one time that came to mind was the aftermath of the Knifehead attack that destroyed Gipsy Danger and killed Yancy Becket. It had been a turning point in the war—never before had there been a kaiju that fought with Knifehead’s level of intelligence. Newt and Hermann had both been subjugated to endless meetings. Hermann, in particular, had received pressure to locate the Breach as the kaiju appearances became more frequent and the kaiju grew stronger.
Hermann and Newt were pulling an all-nighter when Newt glanced over and noticed how strained and exhausted Hermann looked—it had made Newt’s heart ache. There wasn’t much that Newt could do to help, so he decided to make Hermann a cup of tea. It was a small gesture but it was all worth it when Hermann gave him a small, tired smile.
Today was a Stressed Hermann Day. Hermann had spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon in relentless budget meetings. Shatterdomes were being shut down left and right; Newt could only assume that, like his kaiju biology department, Hermann was now the sole engineer in k-science.
They were officially the last two k-scientists standing. Newt tried not to think about that too hard because if he did, the enormity of the task at hand—with only just the two of them—made it hard to breathe.
Newt made his way over to the kitchenette. It was a mess—except for Hermann’s tea boxes, which were laid out nicely, much like everything else he owned. The microwave displayed a large sign reading “NO KAIJU SPECIMENS.” It had been posted after a disastrously awesome experiment with some leftover kaiju bits that had unfortunately exploded all over the old microwave and a portion of the lab.
Newt wasn’t much of a tea guy. Don’t get him wrong, he loved milk tea, but he’d never been into the traditionally English stuff that Hermann seemed to love so much. He was vaguely aware that there were like, ‘proper’ ways to make tea. But Hermann never complained about the tea Newt had given him over the years, and Hermann wasn’t one to hold back his criticism, ever . So, Newt’s tea making skills had to be somewhat good, right?
Newt went through his typical tea making routine: grabbed a random tea bag from one of the boxes (how was he supposed to choose? Hermann had hoarded a ton of different kinds of tea over the years), flicked on the electric kettle to get the water boiling, picked out Hermann’s favorite mug—a black mug with constellation patterns on it, grabbed one of the glass jars that held the sugar and dumped like two spoonfuls in. When the kettle was done, he poured the water over the tea bag and sugar.
Newt carefully carried over Hermann’s tea and set it on his desk.
“Hey, Herms! I made you some tea.”
Hermann hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the paperwork he was poring over.
Newt hadn’t expected much in response, Hermann was extra quiet when he was concentrating. Newt headed back to his side of the lab.
As he flipped through his own grim budget reports, Newt wondered why he kept bringing Hermann tea. He wasn’t really sure why....No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he made the tea, if he were honest with himself, which he usually wasn’t when it came to Hermann. He made tea because it made Hermann happy, and there was nothing Newt loved more than making Hermann happy. It was probably because he was stupidly in love with Hermann and had been for years.
***
Hermann absentmindedly reached for the mug of tea that Newton had left for him. He took a sip and had to stop himself from spitting the tea back out—if what he was drinking could even be categorized as tea. Newton had never been good at making tea—his efforts were frequently over-steeped and over-sweetened. But there was something very wrong with this tea.
Hermann took another, much smaller sip. He forced himself to not gag.
It was salty .
Newton must have accidentally mixed up the salt and sugar. How on Earth had he done that?
The tea was absolutely vile. Undrinkable. Hermann would have to throw it away and make himself a proper cup of tea.
Hermann glanced up just as Newton looked over. Newton gave him a warm smile that made Hermann’s chest feel tight.
“The tea okay?” Newton asked.
And because Hermann was arse over tits in love with Newton he said, “It’s great, thank you, Newton.”
Newton’s grin of appreciation was beyond blinding. If Hermann didn’t finish this awful concoction, not only would he be revealing that he had lied to Newton about the tea, he would make Newton sad . And with the world falling to pieces around them, he couldn’t stand to see that bright smile fade. So he drank the disgustingly salty tea without complaint. But he swore to himself that when this invasion was over and they had closed the Breach, he would show Newton how to make a proper cup of tea.
***
The next day, two large labels appeared on the salt and sugar jars. Hermann did not want to drink salty tea ever again.