Work Text:
It had been a blissfully quiet day in the Shatterdome lab.
Hermann's work was going well and it was a day of nothing but writing up reports anyway. That meant he could step away from the chalkboards and sit at his desk for once. He had a mug of tea beside him and Newton was actually quiet, thank the Lord. With this sort of environment, he might even finish on time. That would certainly be a first.
He glanced across the dingy lab to see Newton (sporting that ridiculous head-lamp) working on some putrid hunk of Kaiju flesh. Apparently a rather large piece, as well. He had on a pair of longer gloves on and was nearly elbow-deep in the thing. Only God knew what he was even touching...
Hermann shook his head and looked back at his report. The biologist's work was always nothing short of revolting to him. He picked up his mug of tea, ready to get back to work.
“Hey Herms!”
Hermann flinced just as the mug reached his lips. He put it down with a bit more force than necessary. All good things... “I have repeatedly asked you not to call me that. What is it, Dr. Geiszler?” He was perhaps just a little bit more snippy than he needed to be.
Newton looked up, still literally up to his elbows in Kaiju. “I just need a favor from you real quick and then you can get back to being stuffy and boring, 'kay?”
Hermann sighed. “What do you want?” he snapped. He had to supress the part of him that wanted to tell Newton to shut up and fuck off. It would just start another argument between the two of them. He was so enjoying the quiet and professional working environment for once.
Newton grinned. “Just need you to grab my recorder from my jacket pocket and turn it on, is all. There's some notes I left myself on it that I need. I'd go get it myself but-”. He held up his Kaiju-covered hands, wiggling the fingers for emphasis.
“Fine,” Hermann grumbled, grabbing his cane and hobbling over to Newton's side of the lab. God it was disgusting... Did the man have no concern for OSHA standards? Or lab safety? Or common decency? He found Newton's ridiculous leather jacket slung over the chair at his desk and dug in the pockets until he found a small voice recorder. He'd seen Newton use it before while working. (“I think better when I ramble, dude.”)
After grabbing it, he walked over to the dissecting table where Newton was working and almost retched at the smell.
“What is that? It's more revolting than your usual specimens.” He glared at the mottled grey hunk of meat on the table.
Newton whipped his head up, blinding him with the head-lamp, and grinned. “Lung from Bonesquid.” He said it with the same fondness someone might use describing where they'd just gone on vacation.
“Disgusting,” Hermann muttered. “Alright, I've retrieved your bloody recorder,” he said, laying it down on one of the cleaner edges of the table.
“Thanks, dude. Could you just turn it on for me real quick? Cause again-”. He held up his hands again, this time doing slight jazz hands for emphasis.
Hermann rolled his eyes but picked up the recorder and found the play button. Immediately he was assaulted by a very familiar synthesizer kick.
No...
But there it was. That damned song. He'd recognize it anywhere.
We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
“Goddamnit, Newton!” he shouted. Fifteen years, fifteen years he'd gone without being Rick-rolled. Who still did that?! “Of all the childish, unprofessional stunts you have pulled! This is absurd, I cannot believe you are wasting my time with this nonsense!”
For his part, Newton was cackling madly, head thrown back. “Oh man,” he wheezed out. “I've been planning that for weeks! Oh my god, why didn't I record this, your face is fucking priceless dude!” He went to wipe away the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes, only remembering his hands at the last second.
Hermann scowled, shut off the recorder, and walked away seething. The nerve, the immaturity, the absolute gall, honestly...
/////
Hermann had the damned song stuck in his head for the rest of the day. Of course...