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Herbert West has learned how to read people. For most of his life, though, it’s been one of those ‘social sciences’ that seemed wholly irrelevant to him. Nevermind that it isn’t something that’s ever come naturally to him. Oh, sure, he can pick up on the obvious. But the subtleties of human interaction had often escaped him when he was younger. How often had he been spurred into speaking for minutes straight about something or other, only to realize his classmates were not actually interested in the toad he’d caught at recess?
Everything can be learned. Picking up on what others thought of him became a necessary survival skill.
But Dan Cain is mercifully easy to read. The man is a few cliches stacked on top of each other in a lab coat. Heart on his sleeve and all that. Dan can’t even lie properly. He may not even be physically capable of it. Herbert likes that, honestly. Dan says what he means, Herbert doesn’t have to decipher it. He’s easy to be around. Easy to like.
Everything that Herbert isn’t.
Often, Herbert can hear the creaking of the floor above him as Dan mills around their shared house, living his life. And, though not quite as often, Herbert is sometimes asked to join him. He has to admire Dan’s tenacity in that little endeavor. Despite Herbert’s constant insistence that, no, he doesn’t have the time or the patience to sit through a football game with Dan, no, he doesn’t want to go jogging, no, he’ll have his half of the takeout order in his room, he just keeps trying. And he can read the frustration in Dan’s face as clear as day, to use another cliche.
When they’d finalized the purchase of their house, Dan had insisted on celebrating the milestone. Herbert had been roped into that one, as they were staying in a hotel room together and there was little escape to be found from the formalities of existing around other people. But he’d at least gotten somewhat used to living in close quarters with someone in Peru. It was frankly a miracle that they could stand each other after that. Dan had purchased a bottle of cheap champagne and a bag of red plastic cups (which Herbert had pointed out were unlikely to be used again, unless Dan was planning to join up with a fraternity post-graduation). They’d shared a few drinks while the sun went down.
Despite Dan’s attempts to form a more typical friendship with him, there was obvious wariness. Like Herbert was some stray cat he had taken in. But that night he’d sat close to him. Herbert would usually jerk away from any sort of physical contact- accidental or not- but the brush of Dan’s knee against his wasn’t bothersome. Side by side on one of the beds- Dan stretched out and propped up against the pillows, Herbert sitting crossed-legged and trying not to touch anything. Dan mumbling about how he wishes he knew anything about Herbert.
He knows he isn’t the normal roommate Dan had probably been hoping for when he put that ad up. And he can imagine the ideal- unintrusive to Dan’s life, but present enough that he has someone to pal around with. Herbert isn’t that. But he likes to think they share something more important than that. He’s let Dan into what’s become the most private part of his life, hasn’t he? When it became evident that the world at large wouldn’t be welcoming to his work, that there would always be someone waiting to take what was his, he hadn’t pushed Dan away.
But Dan doesn’t understand the significance of his trust. That’s apparent. And Herbert doesn’t think he could even begin to explain it to him, no matter how fast a learner Dan is. He’s always enjoyed solitude, though perhaps that simply developed as another survival skill. But there have been people in his life before, that he’s opened the door a crack to. Dr. Gruber, notably. And Dan.
Herbert may, admittedly, be attached to the man. He’s been smiling more. Genuinely and without meaning to. Always in Dan’s presence, always in response to something he’s said. That warm feeling of… companionship, he supposes.
And Dan really is helpful. Not just for the heavy lifting, but to bounce thoughts off of. He can be a good listener. The way his face screws up just slightly when he’s trying to work through something Herbert’s said, the slow way his sentences start when he contributes to the conversation, like he doesn’t want to say something stupid. Listening, responding, not dismissing. Wanting to engage. That’s another thing that makes Herbert smile.
And when he hasn’t slept for days, Dan is easy on his eyes, to use another cliche. Objectively, he’s attractive. Anyone would agree. The women around the hospital certainly seem to think so- those that aren’t wary of the two of them. That warm smile of his, his strong nose, the curve of his jaw. Dan is the sort of classically handsome man Herbert had superficially envied as a child. The idea of a man. Something he definitively wasn’t.
Their residency in Peru had been enlightening- both for their work, and for Herbert’s looming attraction to Dan. It hadn’t solely been the factor in his decision to move in with him, but, despite appearances, he’s still unfortunately human. And it’s difficult to set aside one’s more base thoughts when living in close proximity with another. Especially since Dan is… more than mildly distracting.
Dan, always a hard worker, his muscles straining as another soldier helped him lift their patient onto a cot. The flickering lights in their tent bouncing off the sweat on his skin. His neglected stubble. A reminder of watching Star Trek on television when he was younger, and felt a strange draw to Captain Kirk, who seemed to be constantly losing his shirt. That same sweaty, filthy hero look. It was almost unfair that in that chaos he couldn’t take the time to study Dan’s form properly.
There were occasional moments of rest, though. Where they’d be carted off to another encampment, packed together in the back of a rattling Jeep, or when Dan would drag him down to a nearby body of water to get clean. He never listened to Herbert’s insistence that they had no idea what diseases they could be risking by just wading into the water, nevermind bathing in it. Dan would just laugh and say that it couldn’t be anything worse than what they might’ve picked up in the motels they’d stayed in on the way to Peru. Herbert tried to preserve his dignity and find some place shaded by trees to wash the grime and death off his body.
He’d chided Dan about not keeping up with his appearance when he started letting his hair grow out. But it doesn’t look bad, really.
They’ve settled into something domestic, without either of them noticing. When their shifts don’t conflict, they’re more likely to have dinner together, rather than ordering take-out like they used to. Dan isn’t a very good cook, and Herbert doesn’t see a reason to try his hand at it, but it’s nice to have something in his schedule that forces him to slow down and sit. A break won’t hurt- how many times has Dan said that? Even if he eats quickly and won’t stay any longer than he needs to. When Dan sighs, it’s with concern, not annoyance.
Herbert will often come in the door in the early hours of the morning. That’s just a hazard of the job. He’s never minded keeping odd hours. And often, Dan will be up, too, getting ready for his own shift. A brief acknowledgement of each other, and then Dan will go back to whatever he was doing- usually making breakfast. Dan whistles along to some top 100 pop song on the radio, occasionally shifting his weight to the beat. Into a pan goes an egg, cracked with one hand, which Herbert would bet is a skill Dan picked up to impress women.
He’s always exhausted on those mornings. It wouldn’t be nearly so rough if Dan hadn’t practically staged an intervention to keep him from taking his weakened reagent. And he knows if he tries to creep down to the basement before Dan leaves for the hospital, he’ll be given hell about how he’s not going to get anything done if he can’t keep his eyes open. Not to mention that working on an empty stomach is apparently going to cause him to have some terrible accident and die, if Dan is to be believed. Living with a fellow doctor isn’t nearly as convenient as he’d hoped.
His new habit of watching Dan began purely on accident. He’d let Dan take a more active role in their work- under strict observation, of course. Herbert leaned over his shoulder and instructed him on the careful formulation of the reagent. Dan had snapped him a few times during that- apparently, his hands wouldn’t shake so much if Herbert wasn’t ‘breathing down his neck’. That’s no excuse, Dan is a doctor, after all. Why should Herbert make him nervous? But he’d watched those hands become steadier.
He has nice hands.
Monitoring him to make sure he didn’t slip up soon turned into a genuine interest in watching Dan at work. A reassuring smile here, a careful and appropriate touch on the shoulder there. Flipping through a patient’s chart while making small talk about their family, the way he uses his thumb to leaf through the pages. As if he was born with a textbook bedside manner.
Or, at home, the way his nose wrinkles when he has to dissect some unfortunate failed experiment. Herbert always remarks that Dan is the most squeamish doctor he’s ever known. That’s met with an amicable roll of the eyes. Predictable.
When Dan is frustrated, as he seemingly so often is, he paces and pushes his fingers back through his hair. He points. He stomps. He leaves the room with his hands in the air, then stews in silence until he gives up on waiting for Herbert to apologize for something or other.
He studies Dan as he would any other creature. Not taking notes, of course, that would be a step too far. But when he can’t meet his eyes, which is often, he’ll be watching his lips, the hint of pink tongue as he speaks, or the sinew of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he speaks. His nails, clipped short and clean. The rise and fall of his chest with every breath.
Dan doesn’t seem to notice his staring. Or if he does, he’s just gotten used to it. Just another strange thing about Herbert West. And Herbert can always find some excuse if he does bring it up.
He does wonder how Dan would react if he simply told him the truth. No, Dan, I don’t like making eye contact with anyone, but it’s especially difficult when it’s you. I find every part of you fascinating, I’d study you under a microscope if I could. I’ve never let someone see me smile this much. Danny, I like to watch you because I find you attractive.
But Herbert, for once, doesn’t voice his thoughts.