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Newt plops down on the well-worn couch in the back of the lab. His belly is heavy from dinner. Chow fun is one dish the kitchen staff does right, and he had eaten more than was probably advisable, scrounging the leftovers from Tendo's and Hermann's trays on top of his own plate. Sighing with relief, Newt unbuttons his jeans and tugs at the zipper.
Okay, he may have overdone it a little. But Tendo had been egging him on, trying to see how much Newt could put away, and Newt wasn't about to back down from a challenge. Hermann had mumbled something about decorum and firmly turned his eyes from the scene in a show of - well, it wasn't exactly disgust. With the way Hermann's mouth had turned into a determined line against the pink of his cheeks, Newt isn't really sure what it was, but right now he's uncomfortably bloated and not too motivated to figure it out.
Newt's stomach gurgles loudly. Wincing, Newt sets a hand on his middle and leans his head against the wall behind him. Yeah, he definitely overdid it.
"Hey! - Hermann?" Newt calls from his place on the couch. Hermann either ignores Newt or doesn't hear him. Newt calls out again, louder and more insistent this time.
There's a heavy sigh followed by footsteps, and Hermann emerges from the small labyrinth of chalkboards and specimen tanks that separate the couch from the rest of the lab. Hermann's gaze barely settles on Newt, jeans undone and shirt tight over his middle, before his eyes snap instead to a spot on the wall above Newt's head.
"What do you want, Newton?"
Newt groans as pathetically as he can.
"Pretty sure I went too hard on the chow fun tonight."
Hermann frowns. "And you called me over here to tell me this because . . . ?"
"I'm in pain, dude! Can you give me a hand, like, a belly rub sounds really great right now?"
There are several moments of uncomfortable silence as Hermann looks at Newt (or rather, the wall) with an expression that looks increasingly strained.
"I - you're - no, I will not give you a - a - we are in public, Newton!"
Newt stares. "We're the only ones here!"
"That doesn't mean someone won't come in," Hermann mutters, remembering the time Tendo had found them on the very same couch, Hermann's head resting on Newt's lap as Newt stroked the soft fuzz on the back of his head.
"Come on, Hermann, please?" Newt whines, "I'm seriously in pain here!"
Hermann's eyes flicker uncertainly from the wall, to Newt, and then to the floor. Newt swears he hears a cooling fan kicking on as the CPU in Hermann's brain goes into overdrive analyzing the situation. Frowning, Hermann sighs as if he's about to do Newt a huge favor.
"Oh, alright."
Newt grins and moves over to make room for Hermann on the couch. Reluctantly taking the seat, Hermann leans his cane against the armrest before turning to Newt, who gives his stomach an expectant pat.
"Put those hands right here, dude."
Hermann huffs and rolls his eyes, but he complies and places a hand cautiously on Newt's stomach. At first it's just the lightest of touches, careful fingers mindful of the painful bloating beneath the taut skin. But soon the pressure becomes firmer, more sure, as Hermann's hand works at the heavy weight of Newt's belly. The relief is almost immediate.
Newt sighs and grunts a little.
"Fuck, that feels really nice, man."
Hermann's face is carefully schooled into a neutral expression, but there are certain autonomic reactions he can't control, like the blush rising to his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils. Newt wonders what that's about, because if he didn't know any better, he would say that -
The thought is interrupted by a second hand joining the first on Newt's stomach. The pair of palms press down, moving in slow, soothing circles. Combined with the stretch of a full belly and post-dinner drowsiness, Newt can't stop his eyes from slipping closed.
- he would say that Hermann's, well, into this. In a kinky way kind of 'into' this. It would explain the averted gaze and the blushing, not to mention Hermann's unnecessary embarrassment at the prospect of touching Newt's belly.
Newt takes a deep, slow breath, pushing his stomach against Hermann's hands before exhaling, and Newt hears Hermann swallow hard. When Newt cracks his eyes open, he finds that Hermann's gone slack-jawed, staring intently at Newt's belly. Okay, yeah, Hermann is one-hundred percent into this. Which is cool, like, Newt's not about to judge, especially when it feels like Hermann's hands are working some kind of magic on his stomach.
The lab is quiet save for the sounds of their breathing and the rustle of Hermann's hands against the fabric of Newt's shirt. Lulled into a beautiful state of relaxation, Newt can't fathom why they haven't done this before. It feels like heaven, and apparently not just for Newt. He decides to go for broke. Newt pitches his voice low, trying to sound seductive,
"You like it when I'm full like this, Hermann?"
And just like that, the moment is gone.
Hermann snatches his hands back, looking mortified.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Hermann, listen, it's cool!"
"You can't possibly think that I - "
" - that you have a thing for my stomach?" Newt grins. "Come on, man, maybe it took me a little longer to piece together than it should have, but, yeah, you definitely have a thing for my stomach."
Hermann grabs his cane and pushes himself off the couch.
"I am not having this conversation right now," he snaps and storms off to his section of the lab.
Newt stares dumbly as Hermann retreats, shocked by how quick a turn the situation had taken. He lets his head fall back against the wall, and the concrete stings. That could have gone better, he thinks.
Newt finds out how badly he's fucked up when Hermann goes back to his own room that night instead of joining Newt in his. The next day, Hermann doesn't say a word to him all morning; he barely even acknowledges Newt when he walks into the lab. At lunch, Hermann sits with Mako and a few other jaeger techs instead of with Newt and Tendo at their usual table.
"Trouble in paradise?" Tendo asks, digging his elbow playfully into Newt's side as he takes the seat next to Newt.
Newt tells him to shove it.
The afternoon doesn't go any better, and the silence is worse than the bickering that is their natural coping mechanism. He'd rather have Hermann yelling at him because at least then they'd be talking.
Newt ends up turning in early, but he can only toss and turn in bed. It's sometime after midnight when Newt finally gives up on trying to sleep, and it's one o'clock when he turns up outside of Hermann's quarters. He knocks, hoping that Hermann doesn't eviscerate him on the spot for waking him in the middle of the night. There is no answer. He knocks again, but just as Newt decides that Hermann is still fast asleep, the door opens, revealing a pajama-clad Hermann with his hair halfway to becoming proper bed head.
"Hello, Newton."
"Hey," Newt says, "Can we talk?"
"Yes, I think we should."
Hermann lets Newt in, and they both take a seat next to each other on Hermann's mattress. Neither are sure how to begin, and the silence is awkward, until:
"I'm sorry - "
"I should apologize - "
They look at each other, both confused.
"You shouldn't be apologizing," Newt says, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I went too far last night; I shouldn't have sprung that on you and then assumed you'd be cool with it."
"I won't argue with that," Hermann concedes, "but I will also admit that I overreacted to what happened. Giving you the silent treatment today was childish."
Newt shrugs. "Yeah, it kinda hurt."
"I'm sorry. I was shocked when you confronted me with my . . . preference so unexpectedly. It was easier to be angry over the accusation rather than admitting its truth. To be honest, I'm - I'm a bit embarrassed about it."
"About a kink? Everyone's got kinks, Hermann, it's really not a big deal."
"Yes, but, it's not - it's not exactly a normal kink, is it?" Hermann says 'kink' like the word will burn him if it stays too long on his tongue.
Newt shakes his head.
"No such thing as a normal kink. If it was considered normal, it wouldn't be considered a kink."
"I suppose . . ."
Hermann doesn't offer anything else, so Newt continues,
"So . . . can I ask - what is it, exactly? Like, is it an eating thing?"
Hermann frowns and looks down at his hands.
"No, it's not specifically an eating thing," he says, and then sighs. "I've always had a - a 'thing' for stomachs, you could say. It's such an intimate part of someone: soft . . . unprotected . . . something one normally only sees and touches in private moments."
Hermann says this so sweetly and simply that Newt slides his hand over on the mattress to take Hermann's hand in his. Hermann looks up, worry lines creasing his forehead, and Newt smiles gently back.
"It's totally cool; I'm not judging. And if touching my stomach does something for you, go right ahead. There are crazier things you could be into, believe me."
Hermann raises his eyebrows at that, but Newt just laughs,
"A story for another time, dude."
Hermann cracks a small smile.
"Well . . . I certainly wouldn't mind a re-do of last night."
It's Newt's turn to raise his eyebrows.
"So me stuffing my face does have something to do with it?"
"Well, it certainly . . . adds to it, in a way. The . . . satisfaction of being . . . full, and . . ." Hermann's entire face is red, and he stumbles over his words, embarrassment back in full. "I'm sorry," he says, "I don't think I'm quite ready to hash this all out right now. Can we table this discussion for another time?"
"No, yeah, totally. It's late, anyway; I should get going. I just needed to make sure that we were okay, you know?" Newt squeezes Hermann's hand, and Hermann squeezes back.
"Yes. And I believe that 'we' are just fine," Hermann says.
"Great. Awesome." Newt stands. "I guess I'll just . . ."
"Would you like to stay the night, Newton?"
Newt perks up immediately.
"Hell yeah," he agrees enthusiastically, grinning as he shimmies out of the jeans he had put on to walk to Hermann's room. "I missed you in my bed last night, Hermann," he admits.
"As did I," Hermann answers softly.
They arrange themselves in Hermann's bed, Newt fitting easily as the little spoon against the curve of Hermann's body. It feels so good to be there, drifting off to sleep and feeling the warmth of each other against their skin.
Hermann's hand is on Newt's chest, but as Newt settles, it slides down, coming to rest instead on Newt's belly. Newt smiles and covers Hermann's hand with his own to hold it there.
"Good night, Hermann."
Hermann kisses the back of Newt's head.
"Good night, Newt."