Work Text:
Newt pulled the training helmet off his head with an excited sigh, setting it down on its holding prongs. Hermann did the same, trying to quell his excitement with a barely-concealed grin.
“That was awesome, man,” Newt giggled, taking Hermann's shaky hand and gripping it reassuringly. Hermann nodded, swiping up his cane to support himself. Their practice drifts were enough to trick his body into standing without support – the shared consciousness with Newt was much louder and overwhelming than the pain and resulting unsteadiness that he usually felt. But with the helmets off and the stimulation subsiding, Hermann leaned heavily into his cane.
“You're getting better at organizing your thoughts,” he offered, somewhat haltingly. It didn't occur to him until after it left his mouth that it might've been a back-handed compliment.
“Yeah, and you're getting better at not flooding the drift with mathematic functions!” Newt laughed back, clapping a hand to his shoulder as they turned away. A handful of assistants replaced them as the two scientists walked away, cleaning up after them and resetting the training helmets.
“I could really use a drink,” Newt sighed, leading Hermann back to their shared office. “Keep the buzz goin', y'know?”
“For once, I agree,” Hermann murmured. He hobbled to his desk and sat heavily in his large, comfortable chair, shedding his PPDC training shirt in favor of the white tanktop underneath. Newt did the same, in full unison, as he walked to their small liquor cabinet. Throwing his shirt aside, he picked through the various colored bottles of alcohol and settled on a small, portly bottle of tequila. He poured them both a glass and carried them to Hermann, setting one in front of the tired man. Newt pulled up his own rolly chair and sat opposite to him, hunching with his glass.
For a moment, they were silent. They took a simultaneous swig of their drinks, each wincing at the sting and bitterness of the alcohol.
Hermann knew how avoidant Newt was. Even though they were both thinking it, Newt wasn't going to bring it up. He sighed, and tilted his head.
“Newton... what was that?”
Newt hid his tiny, nervous flinch, clinking his painted nails against his glass. “I'unno,” he mumbled, shrugging awkwardly.
“Oh, don't pull this shit with me, Newton.” Hermann sat up, setting his glass down. “I've seen your nightmares. It's always them coming for us. This was not a nightmare.” Newt kept his gaze averted, chewing his lip. Hermann didn't have to continue. The image was fresh in Newt's mind.
During the drift, Newt had... transformed. Mentally. It wasn't unheard of in the Jaeger pilot community – transgender pilots who hadn't transitioned often melded into their preferred bodies, how they saw themselves inside. It had turned the pilot community into a very open and safe space. But what had happened with Newt wasn't like that.
His face had contorted, and his shoulders had broadened. His eyes multiplied. Hermann had watched as Newt mutated through his clothing and become a hulking, navy blue beast, glowing tongue lolling from his mouth, eyes biting through the darkness. It was temporary but loud. Hermann had gasped in fear, and Newt snapped back to his human self, both sharing a terrified glance before returning to their practice mission.
“Took you long enough to notice,” Newt grumbled. He'd become defensive. Fighting Hermann was better than acknowledging something was wrong.
“Excuse me?” Hermann snapped, sitting up straight. “Are you insinuating that I don't pay enough attention to you already?”
“If you had, you'd have seen this wasn't the first time,” Newt growled, locking eyes with him. Hermann clenched his hands, stiffened his jaw, and inhaled slowly. He knew this tactic. He had no desire for a screaming match.
“How long, then? How long has this been happening?”
Newt averted his eyes again. Hermann softened. “A while?” he asked, quietly. Newt reluctantly nodded, swirling the leftover tequila in his glass before downing the rest of it.
“I thought it was just me being weird,” he grumbled hoarsely, leaning forward to hide himself. “Leftover otherkin shit from my college years. But this was.... intense. It's been intense. I feel like a fuckin' monster.” His voice lilted anxiously, feeling awkward from the confession. Hermann knew about Newt's old identities, and how shy they made him feel. But through the drift, Hermann had explored those same identities, and he agreed – this new sensation, the image of Newton transforming before his eyes, was much more powerful than those old feelings.
Hermann leaned forward as well, setting his elbows on the desk. “Do you feel that we should alert the drifting staff? Or maybe the other pilots?” He kept his voice low, eyebrows slightly raised.
“No... no. God knows Raleigh already hates me, and they all... hate the kaiju,” Newt sighed, rubbing his face. “I-it's just a brain thing, it's probably nothing real. Don't wanna lead them on some wild goose chase.”
Hermann bit his lip for a moment before nodding. “If you feel that's best. But please, if anything else arises, don't hesitate to tell me.” He took one of Newt's hands and clasped it between his own. “I care about you, Newton.”
Newt nodded quickly and gripped his partner's hands in return. Then, with an aching sigh, he stood. “I think I'm gonna hit the hay, I'm exhausted.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Hermann replied, carefully standing with his cane.
As on most nights, Newt walked Hermann to his bunker before returning to his own. He undressed slowly, muscles burning. The drift training was always a bit of a workout, but he was feeling especially drained. The image of Hermann staring at him in horror flashed in his mind and he ground his teeth to try and drown it out, before crawling slowly into bed.
…
Hermann's eyes snapped open and he gasped heavily, his lungs filling with what felt like water. His body thrashed, arms squirming against a suddenly thick resistance, head twisting back. It felt like he'd been plunged into an icy lake, cold electrifying his skin, setting his nerves on edge. He struggled fiercely, looking around.
Pink and purple ooze swirled through the air around him, freckled with golden specks. When he breathed, the ooze settled into his lungs, and slowly made him relax. He trembled from the shock of adrenaline still, but he no longer writhed, trying to take in the environment.
It dawned on him that he was dreaming, and he sighed. Golden bubbles lifted from his mouth and popped quietly in the air above. He watched the swirling goo as it curled into clouds and rolls, roiling above him like a storm. He felt almost drugged as the colors melded together.
A sense of uneasiness began to weigh on him. Anxiety gripped his gut and he tried to sit up, but it felt like he was suspended in mid-air, unable to push forward or lean back. He glanced around, trying to look for something to grab, when the colors began to darken around him. The purple turned a heavy, dark blue, and the clouds above began to reach, as though forming a tornado.
Hermann struggled again, huffing and straining, eyes trained on the dark funnel as it stretched for his face. The end bloomed like a flower and a thick, scaly muzzle burst through, roaring viciously in Hermann's face, baring a glowing mouth and long fangs. He yelped and arched his back, trying to break from the invisible hold, eyes squeezing shut. He could feel the hot air from the monster's mouth wash over him, the glowing light from its inner flesh blinding him. Even though it was a dream, Hermann wasn't ready to die.
Hot, sharp teeth closed around his throat and he screamed, nearly bursting into tears. His body tensed in anticipation... but the jaws never clenched. Slowly, he looked up.
The monster's dark yellow eyes were half-lidded as it watched Hermann, gently holding the human in its massive mouth. It had pulled its large body from the pink clouds above and was hovering carefully over him. Hermann sucked in a fearful breath and the monster flinched.
The voice was rolling and thunderous but quiet, trying to contain itself within Hermann's mind. Hermann's face softened as realization dawned on him.
“New... Newton?”
The monster's eyes glanced away.
“Oh my god... this is... much more solid than I remember,” Hermann whispered, looking over Newt's body.
He was heavy and blue all over, with patches of cyan on his belly and slate gray on his back. Below his bulky arms was an extra pair of smaller arms, curled to his chest. A fat tail swayed from his lower back, hovering near his paw-like feet. As Hermann quietly inspected his face, he realized that he resembled the kaiju that had initially come for Newt – Otachi. With his large eyestalks and split jaw, he was a mirror image of the pregnant alien that had ravaged Hong Kong.
Newt mumbled through their connection. He still had Hermann in his mouth, though at this point Hermann wondered if it was an instinct rather than a conscious action.
“No... no need to be sorry, Newton, you just... startled me.” With a slight pause, he patted Newton's muzzle. The giant beast made a thick noise in his throat, almost like a purr. Newt slowly released Hermann, licking his chops with a long tongue.