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Dr. Hermann Gottlieb sat alone in the mess hall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, idly pushing the soggy remnants of his meal back and forth on his plate, trying to make up his mind whether or not to suffer through the final unpleasant bites. The food on base had never been particularly appetizing, but ever since the last round of budget cuts, it had become borderline inedible.
He had finally decided to endure the mushy carrots but discard the rest of the chewy gristle that allegedly passed for a roast when his longtime labmate slid into the empty seat across from him with an elated, anticipatory expression on his face.
Dr. Newton Geiszler pushed a gargantuan piece of chocolate cake towards him with a huge smile. Hermann blinked at it for a moment, furrowing his brow in confusion before quickly realizing the likely reason for the sudden confection.
“Happy birthday, dude!” Newt beamed at him.
Hermann winced imperceptibly and looked around to make sure nobody else had heard his lab partner’s declaration.
Before he could tell Newton to keep his voice down, the biologist had produced a single purple candle and jammed it into the cake as the sad, sugary mass began to tilt alarmingly to one side.
“I told the staffers it was your b-day and to cut off an extra large piece!” Newt effused as he lit the candle.
Hermann quickly huffed it out with a look of horror and removed the offending stick of wax from the dessert. He shoved it into his pocket and out of sight.
He usually avoided the topic of his birthday by any means, preferring the day to pass without incident or celebration. But when they had first started working together, Newton had badgered the date out of him. Since then, every year without prompting, Newt always planned some little gesture to mark the occasion. Hermann was never quite sure how to react to the unasked for attention.
“Did you make a wish?” Newt asked, leaning across the table, clearly oblivious to Hermann’s desire to keep the affair under wraps.
“I did indeed,” he shot back automatically. “I wished for my birthday to slip by unacknowledged in the future.”
The expression that settled on his labmate’s features made him immediately retract his statement.
“I-I’m sorry, Newton,” he said quietly, feeling a flush of shame spread across his cheeks. “I just prefer to be private about these things.”
“That's fine, dude,” Newt perked up instantly, apparently undeterred. “Next year, I’ll bring you some secret cake in the lab then.”
Hermann felt the pre-twitch of an amused smile. Dr. Geiszler was nothing if not determined. There wasn’t a single other person in his life who insisted on making a show out of his birthday like Newton did. Hermann supposed that a part of him did not entirely object. He loathed being the center of attention, but Newton did his yearly follow-up with such genuine glee that it was hard to dislike the custom entirely.
Newt looked expectantly between him and cake and Hermann sighed resolutely. He had hoped his unappetizing meal would be the last of the mess hall food he’d have to stomach that day, but fate and Newton had other plans.
He took a bite.
He immediately regretted it.
He was unable to mask his expression of utter disgust.
“Oh man, even the desserts around here suck now?” Newt winced sympathetically. “How do you even screw up cake that badly?”
Hermann swallowed the dry, burned lump and immediately chased it with a huge swig of water. “See for yourself,” he said, gesturing to his plate, “but you've been forewarned.”
Newt plunged his utensil into the offending slab, taking a far larger forkful than would usually be appropriate, but if it helped deplete the saccharine travesty, Hermann was not about to protest.
Newt shoveled the unfortunate confection into his mouth and screwed up his face comically. Normally Hermann would assume that his exaggerated expression was for humor, but the cake truly was a perversion.
“Oh god,” Newt said and made a move for a napkin like he was about to spit it out but paused and defiantly swallowed it instead. “I think there was something… crunchy in there.”
Hermann’s stomach churned in commiserative revulsion as Newt downed the carton of chocolate milk he’d grabbed prior. “You wasted your birthday wish, dude. You should have wished for the food around here to suck less.”
“A squandered opportunity,” Hermann agreed with a rueful chuckle.
***
The following week passed by in a whirlwind of numbers and chalk dust. Since the funding cuts had reduced the K-Sci division to a duo, the long, onerous days largely blended one into the next.
When Friday evening finally rolled around, they left the lab and ordered take-out as per their weekly tradition. Usually they stayed up until late together in one of their rooms and often had a few drinks, depending on the week they’d had. But tonight, Newt excused himself early without explanation.
Hermann saw him to the door and sighed after his retreating figure. He felt a small undefinable little twinge of something he wasn’t sure how to categorize.
He’d come to truly enjoy their Friday take-out nights; it always felt like they were marking another week survived. Having one cut short was a disappointment.
Bereft, he turned back into his quarters and shut the door behind him.
***
It was scarcely past noon the following day when a frantic knock on his door jolted him out of his book. Alarmed, he scrambled to his feet, took up his cane and crossed the room.
No sooner had he opened the door when Newton thrust something into his hands. “Happy birthday, take two!” he said cheerfully.
Hermann blinked wordlessly down at the platter he now found himself holding. Upon it sat a large, steaming bowl of cheese spaetzle and a side plate overflowing with colorful salad.
“I…” he stammered, unable to articulate the question. “Newton… this…?”
“Yup,” Newt affirmed. “I made it.”
“I… I don’t know what to say…" he gaped down at the tray. He could not remember the last time he’d laid eyes on a fresh vegetable or had anything that could be considered home-cooked. "Thank you…”
“Hey, no, wait, don’t thank me until you’ve tried it,” Newt joked, running a hand through his hair and looking up at Hermann over the rims of his glasses.
Hermann tried to regain his composure, endeavoring to keep the surging emotions he felt out of his voice as he invited Newton inside. They both settled into their usual places; Hermann on the loveseat in the corner of the room and Newt in the rolling chair by Hermann's desk.
“Sorry I bailed early last night, man,” Newt apologized, grabbing plates and cutlery out of a small bag he’d brought along as Hermann portioned out the meal to share. “I wanted to surprise you and didn’t have a very long window to get this done.”
“How exactly did you access the means to make it?” Hermann inquired.
“Huh? Oh, I snuck into the mess hall after hours to use the kitchen,” Newt said nonchalantly, leaning back and slinging his arm up to rest his elbow on the nearby desk.
“You what?!” Hermann sputtered.
“Don’t worry, I always cover my tracks,” Newt shrugged. “I make sure to wipe everything down and really, as long as you don’t set anything on fire, you won’t get caught.”
“You mean, you’ve done this before?” Hermann faltered, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, yeah, all the time, dude,” Newt answered, waving a hand. “Anyway, hopefully it’s at least better than the mess hall food.”
“That is hardly a high bar,” Hermann said dryly.
He raised the fork to his lips, trying his absolute best to keep his expression neutral for Newton’s sake. In truth he had no idea if his labmate was a decent cook or not. He drew in a breath and took a tentative bite.
His eyes went wide.
“Newton… this is… superb,” he said and Newt’s face broke into a wide grin.
“Ha! Nailed it!” he exclaimed and jumped up with an enthusiastic fist pump. Hermann couldn’t help chuckling fondly at his lab partner’s exaggerated reaction.
“What spices did you use?” Hermann asked.
“Spices?” Newt laughed. “Just pepper, man. I think your taste buds are just desperate for something that doesn’t have double the recommended daily dose of sodium in a single serving.”
Newt took his first bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before sharing his assessment. “Not bad… next time, I think I’ll crisp the onions a bit more. I actually followed my dad’s recipe for this. Usually, I just wing it.”
“I… might have guessed as much. I’m not much of an intuitive cook, but I can follow directions to the letter,” Hermann said, meeting Newt’s gaze tentatively. “I suppose we… compliment each other in that sense.”
“Yeah… yeah, I guess we do,” Newt beamed at him and Hermann couldn't help but return the smile.
“Oh, right!” Newt reached into the bag he’d brought and produced a small box and passed it to Hermann, gesturing for him to open it. “I got this for you too.”
Hermann raised a questioning eyebrow as he lifted the lid to reveal a small, perfectly decorated cupcake with a single candle sticking defiantly out of the icing.
“I just couldn’t accept the fact that you had shitty cake on your birthday, so I popped into one of the bakeries in town. But...” Newt raised a finger for emphasis, “it’s a conditional cupcake.”
“Conditional?” Hermann repeated as Newt nodded. “Upon what?”
“You have to make an actual birthday wish this time.”
“I…” Hermann hesitated. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious, man. I’m not gonna light the candle until you do.”
Hermann let out a beleaguered sigh. “Fine, just give me a moment to think.”
Hermann could not remember the last time he had wished for anything that had come true. When he was a child, he had wanted to become a pilot more than anything... since K-day, he had sought to solve the Breach conundrum and divert the apocalypse... since joining the PPDC, he had hoped to repair his fractured relationship with his father. But it all seemed perpetually out of reach.
He realized that he had given up wishing a long time ago. None of his desires ever felt within his grasp. The thought filled him instantly with a profound melancholia.
He looked up, lost, and met Newt’s eyes, bright green behind his glasses and illuminated with a kind of levity that felt entirely foreign to Hermann.
Newton had started as a professional associate and had quickly transitioned to an occupational annoyance. But now, he could not imagine his life without his lab partner in it. He irritated Hermann on occasion (at least half the time intentionally) but Newton had become a steadfast, comforting presence; perhaps the only person Hermann felt truly himself around. Even when he was distant or aloof, when he was combative or acrimonious, with Newton, he never had to pretend to be someone he was not.
Hermann had never been skilled at reading people, of understanding them, but somehow with Newton it was… not easy per se, but… less complex. And even when they argued, Hermann knew that Newton would still be there afterwards, joking and laughing, engaging and challenging him. Whatever they had between them defied definition but it was a constant that Hermann had come to rely upon.
Newt cleared his throat and Hermann realized he’d been silently absorbed in thought for some time.
He knew what to wish for.
He decided to keep it simple.
“Alright,” he said. “I’m ready.”
Newt hopped up from his chair and took a seat next to him. There was barely enough room for the two of them on the loveseat but Newt appeared unfazed by their sudden proximity. He smiled brightly as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and the tiny candle flame flickered to life.
I wish, Hermann thought, stealing a glance at his labmate, to celebrate my next birthday with you as well.
He leaned in and blew out the candle.
“Yeah! Awesome, dude!” Newt clapped. “So, what did you wish for?”
“If I say it aloud, it won’t come true,” Hermann deadpanned with a little smirk.
“Aw, lame, man. You’re no fun,” Newt sulked playfully.
“So you always tell me... repeatedly and constantly,” Hermann stated with mock aridity to Newt’s overt amusement.
“I mean... if you wanna prove me wrong,” Newt said with a half-grin, “You could always join me next time I sneak into the mess hall kitchen after hours.”
Hermann was loath to admit how appealing the notion sounded, but voiced his doubt. “But what if we’re found out?”
“I’ve done it over a dozen times and never been caught, but uh… it’s cool if you don’t want to…” Newt looked up at him, lips parted in question and Hermann felt his hesitations melt away. Newton seemed increasingly to have that effect on him.
“No, I…” Hermann said quietly. “I very much do.”
Newt smiled widely at his response. “Cool, man, it’s a date then,” he proclaimed.
Hermann flushed at Newt’s chosen expression and was unsure how to respond but, true to form, Newt filled in the silence. “How about tonight then? Meet in the mess hall at midnight?”
“That sounds…” Hermann began.
His mind offered him a litany of reasons why it was an unwise idea. But when he looked at Newton, the way the other man’s eyes were shining back at him made him forget his apprehensions entirely.
“...Perfect,” he said.