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There were quite a few things to notice in the less than grandiose hotel room: the chipping wallpaper, the indescribable (though distinctly unpleasant) smell, the questionable stain in the middle of the outdated carpet. What captured their attention most, however, were none of those things in particular, but rather the solitary bed that sat in the middle of the space. It looked as awkward as Newt and Hermann both felt staring at it.
“Soooo, uh. This is cozy,” Newt said, breaking the silence between them.
“Quite,” Hermann deadpanned, for lack of anything else to remark.
There had been scant room for leisure after cancelling the apocalypse. Following an extensive quarantine after their drift with the Kaiju brain, the two scientists had been roped into several traveling events and academic tours. Most of the trips were long-lasting, and while they’d had plenty of food and comfortable lodgings, the pressure to rub elbows and schmooze with higher-ups was exhausting.
Newt, for all of his extroverted and eccentric ways, must have felt equally drained, which was why he had suggested that he and Hermann use a free week between tours to do something lowkey and relaxing.
‘Trust me, Herms. I got this,’ he’d promised.
Hermann had been a fool for believing him.
Whatever bargain or discounted hullabaloo Newt had signed them up for was looking less desirable by the minute. Privately, Hermann wondered if it was possible to get a taxi and return to the airport before they fully committed to the idea of staying for the next five days. Of course, that was before Newt marched forward and slung his duffel bag onto the floor.
“Okay, hear me out. It’s a little rough around the edges,” he started, setting his hands on his hips. “But it’s not as bad as some of the places we’ve stayed in the past, right?”
Hermann, who had gone back to staring at the one bed, gripped the handle of his cane tighter. “No. I suppose not.”
“And don’t sweat it about the bed, my man. They can probably hook us up with a rollaway or something.”
Hermann doubted that such a luxury was possible in an establishment that didn’t even have key cards for the door, but rather actual keys that fit into a keyhole. He kept the thought to himself (for the time being, anyway) and cleared his throat.
“Well, while you’re off sorting said ‘rollaway’, I’m going to take a shower.”
Honestly, it wasn’t so much the airplane as it was the room itself that made Hermann want to feel clean at all possible times.
“Cool, cool. I can also check out that minimart up the street. You know, for supplies,” Newt suggested, because apparently he was still hungry after their inflight meal. “You want me to grab you anything?”
“No, thank you,” Hermann declined, finally unfreezing from the doorway and slowly walking forward. “I’ll be fine until breakfast.”
“Suit yourself.”
Hermann waited until Newt vacated the room before he let his gaze wander over it again. It wouldn’t be forever, he told himself. Just a few days with his lab partner and colleague, who he absolutely did not have feelings for.
A fleeting glance at the one bed dared to contradict this mental affirmation, though he just as surely banished it with an audible scoff.
**
The state of their lodgings did not change, but at least Hermann felt better after showering. He had dressed in a comfortable pair of pajamas and brushed his teeth by the time Newt came stumbling back into the room. Newt's hair was ruffled by the wind, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold, but otherwise Hermann was glad to see that Newt had made it back in one piece without getting sidetracked.
“I’ve got good news and, uh, less good news,” Newt announced, dumping his armful of purchased goods on a rickety-looking table by the window.
Hermann eyed the various bags of crisps and sweets before he said, “I’m hoping that the ‘less good news’ pertains to the shop not having your preferred snack, and not our charming accommodation?”
“Ehhh, not exactly. The good news is that they're finally restocking these bad boys,” Newt said, wiggling a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos at Hermann. “The less good news is that this place doesn’t have a rollaway to spare.”
Hermann couldn’t say that he was surprised, really. Especially since he’d speculated as much not long before. Still, that meant that the two of them would have to share the bed that looked barely big enough to support one body comfortably, nevermind the two they’d attempt to squeeze in.
Hermann had seen the way Newt slept in the past; the biologist was more starfish than man when it came to sleeping positions. It was likely that, come morning, Hermann would have at least two of Newt’s limbs spread over him. While the thought should have been the last thing from appealing, Hermann was more troubled to find that he didn’t mind the thought of close, intimate proximity with Newt so much.
“But anyway,” Newt abruptly continued, jarring Hermann from his inner musings. He was already halfway through the heavily-seasoned tortilla chips. “It’s not like we’re total strangers, right? We’ve literally been in each other’s minds. Sharing a bed is noob tier compared to that.” Newt paused to swallow his mouthful. “Cute PJs, by the way. I’m digging the stripes.”
Hermann felt the angled slants of his cheekbones and ears flush. Rather than thank Newt for the compliment, he opted to follow custom and complain at the man instead.
“Do see that you finish those before getting into bed. I’ll not have crumbs in the sheets, if it can be helped.”
At that, Newt laughed. “The crumbs are the best part, dude. They’re not going anywhere but my stomach.” As if on cue, he turned the bag upside-down and shook the remnants into his mouth.
Leaving the gremlin-man to his own devices, Hermann seated himself on the bed they were to both occupy. The mattress was stiff—much stiffer than Hermann’s bad leg would have preferred—but at least the sheets and pillows were decent. Hermann reached for one of the spare pillows to evaluate which side of his leg needed it more when he heard Newt step into the bathroom; the shower turned on shortly after.
Alone temporarily, Hermann continued with the pillow and then checked the nightstand to make sure he’d laid out everything he needed: reading glasses, pills, his charging mobile. He supposed he could have brought over the book he’d started on the flight, but he didn’t think he’d do much reading before bed.
From the shower, Newt suddenly called: “Hey, Herms? Can you grab my body wash from my bag and bring it to me? This cheap complimentary stuff isn’t gonna cut it.”
Hermann did not hesitate to roll his eyes. “This is why one usually makes sure they have all that they need prior to showering, Newton!” he projected, loud enough for Newt to hear.
“Terribly sorry, old boy! It shan’t happen again!”
Despite his annoyance at Newt’s blatant mockery, Hermann stood from the bed and obliged the request. Rather than dig around and come across God-knows-what in the process, Hermann prodded through Newt’s poorly packed duffel bag with the end of his cane. He located what he presumed was Newt’s toiletries bag and reached for it. The bag itself was sticky, which made Hermann wrinkle his nose in distaste. Still, he toted it to the bathroom and set it on top of the toilet cistern.
“I’ve fetched the bag for you. You’ll have to rifle through it to claim your, erm, body wash.”
He was prepared to leave when the shower curtain pulled back and a bare chested, heavily tattooed Newt leaned out to zip open the bag.
“I see how it is. Ask the guy who can’t see shit without his glasses to find something.”
Hermann tried not to stare, but it was hard when so much of Newt was on shameless display. Rivulets of water ran down Newt’s colorful arms and chest, leading to areas that were covered by the curtain. Hermann was utterly mesmerized until Newt found his prize and disappeared again.
Right. That was that, then.
**
Hermann was solving a sudoku puzzle on his mobile when Newt eventually joined him twenty minutes later. He had made an effort not to gawk when Newt walked out in a towel (thus, the sudoku puzzle), and now that Newt was wearing clothes again, it wasn’t hard for Hermann to keep to his own business. That was, until Newt asked him a question.
“Remember this?”
Hermann glanced at Newt over the top of his glasses. The other man was wearing what looked like an old t-shirt that had been most likely acquired during Newt’s time at university (if the MIT emblem said anything about that). Unless, of course, Newt was referring to the drawstring rocketship pajama bottoms he wore? Hermann didn’t think he was.
“Naturally. You were wearing that shirt in the very first photograph you ever sent me,” Hermann replied. “There was a pizza grease stain on it, or so you wrote.”
“Still here, just faded,” Newt pointed out, gesturing to an off colored section just below his collar.
“Mm.”
Hermann went back to his puzzle, though he was just as soon interrupted again by his bedmate.
“Have your, uh, eyelashes always been so long?”
The query was random and didn’t tie into anything they’d previously discussed, earlier or presently. Hermann’s expression must have accurately conveyed his bafflement, because Newt quickly explained.
“Random, I know. I just never noticed. They’re nice.”
They’d been close enough to make out distinguishing features before, surely, but the weight of their work had always taken precedence. That and they’d been trying to prevent doomsday the times they had been nearly face-to-face. All of that considered, it seemed strange that Newt was only now attempting to identify key features on Hermann’s face. If Hermann was lucky, Newt would not mention anything about Hermann’s protruding ears.
“My sister was always jealous,” Hermann said, recalling Karla’s continuous lament on how both Hermann and Bastien had been blessed with the one feature she wished she had inherited as well.
“Gottlieb genes, man. What're you gonna do?” Newt mused, bouncing his leg.
Perhaps Hermann was imagining it, but Newt seemed oddly nervous all of a sudden. His body language gave it away more than his words did, but it was still apparent either way.
“Newton, are you—”
“WHOO, I’m beat. Are you beat, Hermann? We should probably pass out,” Newt interrupted, silencing Hermann effectively. “Big day tomorrow, sightseeing and all. Night.”
Before Hermann could object, Newt reached up, removed his glasses, and switched off the lamp on his nightstand. Hermann, who had barely had enough time to process what was happening, watched as Newt laid down and turned onto his side; his back faced Hermann, though it was hard to see considering that Newt had pulled the covers up to his ears.
Without finishing the puzzle, Hermann set his own glasses aside, along with his mobile, and shut off his nightstand’s lamp. It took longer for him to get comfortable, if only because positioning his leg in a way that resulted in the least amount of pain wasn’t an easily accomplished task.
Hermann had just situated himself correctly and shut his eyes when Newton shot up, taking the covers with him, and switched his light back on.
“Yeah, I can’t do this,” he stated. “I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but it kind of is??”
Loath as he was to move from the position he’d spent several minutes adjusting to, Hermann propped himself up on his elbows to see what all the fuss was about.
“What on Earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about THIS,” Newt emphasized, extending his hands towards the bed. “I thought that if I lied and said there wasn’t a rollaway, we’d have no choice but to share the bed. And then when I was taking a shower, I thought if you saw me, like, all wet and sexy, it’d be easier to just...you know. But that obviously didn’t work. So, I figured maybe I needed to dial it down a notch and start with, like, compliments and shit. Sweet talk you. But that didn’t work either!”
The rambling was fast and full of wild gestures that Hermann feared would send Newt crashing onto the floor, but the puzzle behind the scattered pieces came together nonetheless.
“Newton, are you saying…?”
“That I have feelings for you? That I’ve ALWAYS had feelings for you? That even though you’re the first person to disagree with me, criticize my music, and bash on my rockstar style, you’re also the person who saved the world with me? Who made me feel like I actually fucking mattered?”
Hermann couldn’t bring himself to believe what was happening. More than that, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Newt shared his feelings. A part of him had hoped that, perhaps, one day the parameters of their relationship would exceed what a mere friendship offered. Now that feeble hope seemed to be becoming a reality.
“...and sure, okay, I could have been smoother about all of this, but when have I EVER been smooth about ANYTHING? It’s not like it even matters anyway, because you clearly don’t feel the same, and—”
Ah, yes. Newt was still rambling. Sitting up fully now, Hermann decided to save Newt from further embarrassment and intervene.
“And just what exactly led you to believe that I did not feel the same?” Hermann asked, surprised by his own cavalier tone. He half-expected to sound flustered given how quickly his heart was beating.
“Uhhh. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you didn’t respond to anything I threw at you?” Newt replied, throwing up his hands. Something seemed to sink in then, urging Newt to drop his arms and look at Hermann owlishly. “Unless…?”
“Unless a more traditional, straightforward approach would have sufficed?” Hermann suggested.
Newt opened his mouth to respond, though the words died in his mouth. He was very quiet for a few seconds until his voice returned.
“Hermann?”
“Newton?”
“I’m in love with you.”
And there it was.
Spotting Newt’s limp hand amongst the sheets, Hermann clasped it in his own; he rubbed the warm skin and traced his thumb across the chipped, black nail varnish on Newt’s fingernail.
“Rest assured that your attempts at courtship, while uncouth, were not in vain,” Hermann said. “I share your feelings and intend to return them. If...if you’ll have me, that is.”
“If I’ll ha—of COURSE I’ll have you! God, Hermann, we really need to work on your love confessions. But uh, for now let’s work on making out, because I seriously need to kiss you. Like yesterday. Come here.”
Newt withdrew his hand from Hermann’s grasp, but only so he could use both hands to grab Hermann’s face and reel him in across the bed. It was clumsy, it was disoriented, but their mouths successfully met in a kiss that felt long overdue.
Nothing mattered in that moment: not the bed, not the room, and certainly not the decade of sexual tension between them. All that did matter was the feel of Newt's hands on Hermann's cheeks, the squeeze of Hermann's long fingers around Newt's wrists, and the flood of untamed adoration that came barreling out of the both of them.