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Newt drops his mask on the table before flopping into an oversized chair. He kicks his shoes off and wiggles his toes; a sigh of relief escapes him. The noise of the others is muted as he concentrates on relaxing. The bottle of water shoved in his hand is barely a reality as his eyes slide shut.
He's getting too old for this.
He's getting too old for the shoes and the lycra, showing so much skin, three hour shows. It almost feels like he's getting too old to be a rockstar.
"Brother, you've got a call."
Newt opens his eyes to find Tendo there, leaning down, with his phone. There's an odd look of consternation on their manager's face, one that doesn't instill confidence in Newt. "Who-"
"Just take it."
Properly worried now, Newt takes the phone, not missing the way Tendo slides away to give him some form of privacy. "Hello?" he says nervously, his throat tight.
"Mr. Geiszler?"
He's technically a doctor now, but-
"Mr. Geiszler, this is Massachusetts General Hospital."
Newt's a doctor now, but Hermann never updated his contact info. Cold fear grips him, and he feels sick to his stomach. "What happened?" he asks, barely able to get any breath behind it to make himself heard.
"Mr. Gottlieb was brought to the emergency room-"
Panic now as Newt stands up, all his aches and exhaustion forgotten. "Is he okay?" It's almost a screech.
"We're still running tests. If you-"
He doesn't even think, just speaks and acts. "I'll be there as soon as I can!" It's his phone, but he tosses it aside because he doesn't have anywhere to put it, before finding his regular shoes. He doesn't bother tying them as he finds a set of car keys and is out the door.
They're not his keys, not his car, because he doesn't own one. Maybe Raleigh's, and when he clicks the fob, he finds the one that lights up. Blue, shiny. Definitely Raleigh's. He won't mind; he's easy-going. He'll understand as long as Newt doesn't wreck it. If he weren't so worried, Newt would think it's a pretty sweet ride as he makes his way to Mass Gen.
Newt luckily finds a spot in the small lot across from the hospital, probably due to the fact it is almost three in the morning. As he gets out of Raleigh's car, eyes on the emergency entrance he can see across the street, he hears someone gasp.
Behind him there is a woman and a child, both staring at him.
It takes way too long for his brain to catch up with what's going on with his immediate person, instead of worrying about Hermann, because it only then registers that he's standing there dressed in fishnet stockings and a blue leotard. No wonder his ass had been so cold.
Swearing under his breath, knowing he can't go in dressed like this, Newt looks in the backseat of the car. Nothing. The trunk then, because Raleigh must have some clothes, even just some gym clothes; no guy who wears sleeveless shirts so much doesn't have some spare workout clothes in the car at all times.
Jackpot. A duffle bag in the trunk, and the clothes don't smell great, but they'll do. Newt starts to just pull on the clothes, but the shirt is so large, and sleeveless, that the leotard is easily seen beneath. And the shorts… Fishnets and gym shorts is not a good look. "Fuck fuck fuck." A pair of scissors in his hand at that moment, and he'd be cutting the clothes off himself, but instead he gets into the backseat.
It's not easy, even if it is roomy, and he hopes nobody walks by to see his legs in the air as works first the leotard and then the stockings off. And he certainly hopes no one gets so curious as to look in the car and see him in all his naked glory as he starts to put Raleigh's clothes on. There is no doubt, as he sits up and the shorts bunch up under him, that is is bad form to freeball in another man's clothing, but desperate times. He'll just buy a new pair for Raleigh; the guy will understand.
***
The hospital is surprisingly quiet and the drugs are making Hermann's eyelids very heavy. He's fighting sleep, though he doesn't know why. He has nothing to read, nothing to watch, nothing to even look at aside from blank walls and medical equipment, so why not just go to sleep?
To enjoy the high, the floaty feeling and lack of discomfort.
It's such a relief; he smiles to himself as his eyes close.
"Hermann."
A hallucination, nothing to concern himself with. Just sleep…
"Hermann."
An insistent hallucination. Then a hand takes hold of his, and Hermann's eyes snap open (though in reality they cracked slowly, just enough to make it evident they were indeed open). "Newt?"
Newt's grip becomes tight almost to the point of pain. "Oh my god, Herm! I didn't get the call until the show was over. I got here as fast as I could!"
Hermann smiles. Newt's panic is adorable. "Glad you're here. Kinda tired."
"Then go to sleep, babe. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
Hermann does.
"...experienced a severe spasm and fell. He was in extreme pain and unable to stand so called 911."
Hermann wakes to see Newt speaking to a doctor.
"He sustained no injury from the fall itself outside a few bruises. There's no visible injury to his back aside from the disc degeneration, so as soon as he wakes and is mobile, you can take him home."
As soon as the doctor is gone, Hermann says, "You look ridiculous. What are you wearing?"
Giving him a lopsided grin, Newt plucks at the oversized shirt. "Raleigh's clothes. Found them in the trunk."
"Why on earth are you wearing Raleigh's clothes? And why were you taking them from the trunk of, I assume, his car?" He's still asleep and this is a dream. It must be.
Newt laughs and rubs the side of his neck in embarrassment. "Well, you know, we had that concert."
Oh no.
"I just got my shoes off when Tendo hands me the phone, and it's the hospital. I kinda took Raleigh's keys and drove here in my stage clothes."
Well, it's not quite as bad as Hermann expected. "Did you call him to let him know you're not dead in his wrecked vehicle?" He hopes he's coming across as slightly lecturing and not slurring drunkenly.
Newt shrugs, and Hermann closes his eyes again. "I left my phone there. I didn't have pockets!"
"Newton."
"Hermann. I don't care. Tendo will let him know, and he'll understand. I'll use your phone to call Tendo and everything will be fine, okay? Don't stress out. You need to think of your health."
Before Hermann can get angry or snarky, Newt takes hold of his hand.
"I'll cut the tour short and-"
"You will not."
"Dude, you need someone to take care of you until you're recovered! I know you'll get better, but until you do, I'm gonna take care of you." Newt squeezes to just this side of painful. "What the hell kind of husband would I be if I didn't take care of you when you need help?"
Hermann's heart melts, just a little, just enough for him to not be angry over the presumption that he needs a nursemaid. "And that's why I'm getting the surgery," he says, less artfully, far more bluntly than planned.
"What?"
"The surgery. I'm getting it. This qualifies me for it, I believe. And I'll need your help after, but once I've recovered from that, no more of this." He gestures to himself under the thin hospital blanket. "No more urgent care or emergency room visits. This can't affect your life too; that is unacceptable."
Newt sits and stares, brow furrowing. "You sure?" he asks even though it's obvious he isn't sure at all.
If it provides just a sliver of relief for the unending discomfort and pain, Hermann's sure it will be worth it. "I am."
***
He's an adult. This shouldn't be so difficult! "Mr. Pentecost?"
The man turns, and by the lack of disapproving turn-down of his mustache, he's pleased enough to see Newt. That doesn't mean he isn't intimidating as hell. "Newt, come in. Herc told me you wanted a meeting. Sit." He waits for Newt to sit in the non-descript guest chair of his non-descript office (other than the series of gold records mounted on the wall) before he sits in his mostly non-descript executive chair. "Is there something wrong?"
It takes all of Newt's willpower not to fidget, to tap his foot and wring his hands, but he manages. "Nothing wrong, but I did want to talk about a couple things." The Rabbits owe their current success to Pentecost, via Herc Hansen, via Chuck, and while all other decisions have been strictly band decisions, this one seems like something Newt should run through The Money. "I know we normally do a summer tour, no matter how small, but Hermann's having his surgery in February. He should be good by June, that's what the doctor said anyway, but if something happens, I just-I can't leave him to tour."
Pentecost doesn't look pleased, but not displeased either as he steeples his fingers and leans back. "What did you have in mind?"
This he talked over with Hermann. "Exclusive studio album, and we play some local venues. No overnights."
Now Pentecost leans forward, looking very much like a predatory animal. "Not an offer made lightly, I can tell. What is the other thing you wanted to discuss?"
"Band image, or at least my image. Jet Ring's image."
The sound of Pentecost chuckling should be frightening, but under the circumstances, it somehow puts Newt at ease. "Feeling the miles in those shoes?"
Newt grins and nods. "A little. Looking for something a little more… middle age punk? Less glam, more Aerosmith maybe."
Pentecost raises one eyebrow.
"Joe Perry, not Steven Tyler. And the mask, of course. I haven't talked it over with the rest of the band yet, but since they're kinda dressed like that anyway, I didn't think it would be a big change for them." He needs Pentecost's approval anyway, and if he doesn't get it… Hermann's more important than the Rabbits now, and there are other things for him to fall back on. The two live modestly; leaving the band wouldn't break them.
But Newt doesn't want to, not at all. He still loves it. He just loves Hermann more.
Once more, Pentecost leans back in his chair. "Why don't you try your new look out this summer, try out some of these new songs. Have you talked to Mr. Choi yet?"
Newt shakes his head. That is realistically who he needed to talk to first, but The Money… "My next stop as long as you say yes."
"The Black Velvet Rabbits have been a very good asset for Shatterd Records. I'm not dropping you now." Pentecost smiles.
The weight lifts from Newt, like an entire planet rising from his shoulders, and he slumps in relief. "Oh man. Oh man. Right, I gotta call Tendo."
Hermann's bottle of heavy duty pain pills empties faster than Newt's seen before, and as worried as he is about it, February can't come fast enough.
Hermann sits, he stands, and then he lays down for the majority of the day. He works from bed, looking none the worse for it. That he leaves to Newt.
"Finished one!" Newt declares, just poking his head into the bedroom. "Wanna hear it?"
Hermann looks tired, but it's because he's been up late for the past three nights working. He smiles without hesitation as he looks up from his laptop. "Of course. Will you change into one of your outfits?"
Newt wags his finger. "Not yet, you little minx. It's not ready for private performance just yet." This is what gets Newt through the day, the week, the month: Hermann hasn't let his back change his personality, hasn't shown any signs of melancholy.
"When they said I could live with this for years, maybe the rest of my life, and I wasn't a good candidate to repair it? That's when I was depressed. And then I learned to live with it."
Newt hesitates, still smiling, then asks, "Do you wanna come when I look for some new outfits?"
"Of course. Who else will judge impartially how good your ass looks in them?"
"Ugh, keep talking like that and neither of us is going to get any work done today."
"Oh really?"
***
Newt kisses his cheek, then his lips, then brings his hand up and kisses it. "I'll be waiting for you when you wake up."
Hermann's already drowsy from the pre-anesthetic, but he manages to say, "You're embarrassing yourself, Newton." He squeezes Newt's hand.
"Don't care. Love you." He leans close, ignoring the unspoken urging by the staff wanting to wheel Hermann into surgery, to whisper, "Don't be scared."
"Too late," he answers. "Love you too."
"By all accounts, a complete success."
"Hey, can you make the aftercare instructions super strict? He won't listen to me, but he'll follow instructions to a T." Newt glances over; Hermann is still out, connected to the relevant machines, looking mostly healthy. "You sure he's okay?"
"Absolutely. Everything went smoothly. We found exactly what we were expecting; everything except the disc looked healthy. Considering the nature and scope of the procedure, we couldn't have expected better." The doctor looks mildly amused and also pleased.
He's really probably telling the truth, and not just saying it all to appease Newt. "Cool." Running his hand through his hair, at a loss what to do, Newt asks what they always do in TV and movies: "When can I take him home?"
"He needs to stay here for two days at the least. Generally no more than four if he's doing well."
Newt groans. "Four days? He'll be a holy terror."
Hermann is not. He's on pretty strong painkillers so they can get him standing and moving ASAP. It seems a little cruel to Newt, but he gets assurance this is normal for this procedure.
Newt holds his hand as he takes slow, small steps around the bed. Hermann's got his other hand over his stomach, where the incision is, and grimaces with every step, but he does it.
"At least," he says, a little breathless, as he gets back into bed, "I can use the toilet."
It's the small things in life Newt has to be thankful for. "Yeah," he says brightly, still holding Hermann's hand. "I probably just need to do some of the housework, and otherwise you're good to go."
The doctor tuts this almost immediately though. "No lifting of anything heavier than what you can lift with one hand. No excessive bending. I want you to take it easy, but not stay in bed all day."
Newt rolls his eyes even as Hermann is nodding. "Look, I'm gonna spoil him rotten, and nothing anyone says will change that."
"He will not."
"Dude, I've got all summer."
"Ahem. Yes, well. I'll just get the nurse."
***
"Don't yell at me! You know I can't cook!"
"Then why on earth would you offer to? And I'm not yelling! You slammed a plate down in front of me and declared it was awful." Hermann is slowly rising from the chair as the volume of his voice is. "Why would I eat it if you said it was awful? I never judged you!"
Newt turns away and begins to furiously scrape the food burnt to the bottom of the pan out. "Like I can't tell from the way you're looking at me. I said we should just order out!"
"We have ordered out five days in a row! I'm tired of it. I want..."
He sounds tired, and Newt's hands slow until he finally puts the pot down in the sink. "I'm just trying-"
From behind, Hermann's arms take around the chest. "I know you are, and I appreciate it more than you can ever know. Everything."
Sighing, smiling through the start of tears, Newt puts his hand over Hermann's. With the edge of his thumb, he strokes his husband's ring. "I'm a terrible husband."
"No, you're trying. You should have just stuck to the frozen meals." Hermann kisses the back of Newt's neck. "You're a rockstar after all, not a rockstar chef. Please, just the frozen meal. It's fine."
Newt takes a deep breath. "What are we gonna do when I quit? I can't be a housewife. I can't cook, I'm not good at cleaning, I'm not organized…"
"Have you…" Hermann takes a deep breath. "Have you not made preparations for the future? Financially."
Turning and leaning back against the edge of the sink, Newt frowns. "You know I have. You can see the accounts."
"Then what are you worried about?" Hermann drapes his arms over Newt's shoulders, linking his fingers. "You may not be household orientated, but you're not irresponsible. When it comes time, when you feel you're finished with the public life, we'll work it out together."
Sighing, Newt nods, then says, "Is it dumb that I'm kind of scared of the day I won't want to be on stage?" He feels Hermann shrug.
"It's something you're familiar with, comfortable with. I don't think it's dumb at all. It will be a monumental shift in your life."
If there's anything Newt doesn't do well, besides cooking, it's dealing with monumental shifts. But Hermann will be there to help him out. That's enough to stop him from falling into existential despair. "Thanks."
When Hermann returns to his seat at the table, Newt abandons the pan in the sink, allowing it to soak, and gets the frozen meal out. "Garlic chicken, sir? Our finest in the freezer."
***
Hermann looks out the window and blows out a breath. The timing of the surgery wasn't optimal. The snow is six inches deep out, and he is still not super mobile. He can get along, but he relies on cleared sidewalks. Newt also refuses to let him go alone, not quite holding his arm, but hovering like someone's grandmother (Hermann's grandmother had never hovered).
It's a half-blessing he can do most of his work from home, though the option to go out whenever he needs to, if only for a ridiculously overpriced coffee, is missed.
The door opens, and Newt comes in, stomping his feet on the mat. "Cleared all around the car, and the walk. I'll have to clear it completely tomorrow."
"You really don't need to come with me. And I also know you'll just complain how long I was when I'm done," Hermann says, standing. Meetings, important ones, but still…
But Newt waves it off. "It's fine. We can get lunch or dinner, and I want to show you this place I found. Help me pick out some shoes."
When it comes to Newt's stage wardrobe, Hermann can't resist. "Of course."
The shoes have a modest heel, can almost pass as formal footwear other than the silver strap across the top, but when Newt puts on the whole outfit, Hermann curses his still limited functionality because he wants nothing more than to ravish Newt. "I could swallow you whole," he says instead, and reaches for his husband's hand.
Newt is blushing, bless his heart, and no matter how he's dressed, without the mask, Newt is no rockstar. "Mako's still working on the masks. Doing a kind of underground, old punk for our first show with the new look." He's still blushing. "She'll never say it, but I think she loves you for investing in the 3D printer. Last time I was over there, she was going on about patterns. I guess that's a good thing; I don't know shit about sewing."
"Shut up and kiss me."
***
The restaurant is old, but Newt loves it. Old, but not in a charming way: the floors are scuffed linoleum; the paint is dingy; the doors are all mismatched; and their stage for live music is nothing more than a wall painted black and some colored lights. The food, Hermann admits, is above average.
"Mr. Pentecost! What are you doing here?" Hermann asks, eyes wide in surprise at seeing the Shatterd executive waiting in a booth. Across from him is a man Hermann knows only from pictures and what Newt's told him.
Smiling, small and almost secretive, Pentecost says, "Newt told us to come here. Said there'd be a special presentation."
Hermann's head turns so fast his neck pops.
In response, Newt just shrugs. "Have a seat. When everyone's here, we'll get started."
The others filter in as Hermann has stilted, uncomfortable conversation with Pentecost and Hercules Hansen.
Tendo, Mako, Chuck, Sasha and Alexis, a blond woman Hermann doesn't know but Tendo, Pentecost and the elder Hansen do, and more until there are about twenty people seated in the booths and at the tables.
"Hey man," Tendo says, "did Newt say what this was about?"
Hermann shakes his head. "I thought we were simply going for dinner."
Before Tendo can say more, Newt pokes his head from a side door, to the left of the "stage". "OK, we thought everyone deserved a sneak peek, so get ready." He disappears, and the lights go out except for the ones behind the bar.
The colored lights start up, then a small spotlight, and the band walks out from the door. They're in their full stage outfits, the new ones.
They all look stunning, but after quick looks at the others, Hermann can only focus on Newt. He doesn't quite get the influences that have put this outfit together, but he likes it. A lot. The shirt is white and flowing, open to the middle of his sternum. The pants are tight and black, decorated with accents of silver at the pockets and cuffs. Those shoes, the ones Hermann likes so much, and finally the mask. Black with stripes of red across it with a precise randomness, and Hermann can only think that this is still Jet Ring. This is still the Black Velvet Rabbits.
"So. What do you think?" Newt asks the room, looking from face to face. "It's not too much, or I guess, not enough?"
Hermann remains quiet, since he is as far from impartial as one can be. In his eyes, Newt looks amazing, and he can't imagine Newt not being on stage. As the silence stretches, he starts to get nervous though; he wants the response to be positive. Not just for Newt, but for the whole band. They all deserve it, they've all aged, grown up.
"Guys? Anything?" Newt is biting his lip, fidgeting with the clips of his red suspenders.
Pentecost is the first, standing. "We can work with this. As the earliest fans have aged, they can appreciate a more mature look."
Aside from Newt, Hermann might be the most relieved person in the room.
Newt sits with Hermann in one corner, his old acoustic guitar in his hands. His play is a little clumsy--he always admits his real musical talent is on piano--but it's little more than a simple chord to start the song. As soon as he begins singing, the guitar is forgotten.
No one else is listening, it's just the two of them, and in the moment, the song is only for Hermann.
It's a little ridiculous, but then that has been the music of the Rabbits from the start, and the sentiment behind it all comes through clear.
"I was thinking of you the entire time I wrote it," Newt tells him at the end.
Hermann raises an eyebrow. "In a dress?"
"Well, we have to balance things. Most of the stuff is non-gender specific anyway, and I-"
"It was wonderful." Newt's hand is sweaty in Hermann's. "This new album will be perfect."
Newt blows out a breath, squeezes Hermann's hand in return. "I hope so. Got a lot riding on it, and we've booked our first date for the end of May."
"You have nothing to worry about. I'll be at your side the entire time." Not literally; Hermann is taking his recovery very easily, and he's not sure how soon he can properly attend a concert, even in a small venue, just yet.
"You won't leave me when we fail miserably?" Though Newt is smiling, it's apparent the question is quite serious.
"Absolutely not. You won't fail anyway. I should be worried that you would leave me when you become even more popular, all those fans throwing themselves at you."
"Jesus no. You know I was totally smitten with you the second I saw you at your booth."
"Smitten? How can I argue with you when you say that?"
"You can't. And you shouldn't. Because I was. Still am."
Hermann snorts. "Now you're just being-"
"Honest, so just accept it. And maybe you could say how smitten you are with me?"
"Nonsense. I am not smitten with you. I am absolutely in love with you, no matter how much my father might try to convince me I shouldn't be."
Newt puts his guitar aside before leaning over to kiss Hermann.
***
The first concert Hermann attends after his surgery, middle of June at a place the Rabbits played often when they were desperate for exposure, he brings his cane, but he sits the entire time. It's such a relief, Newt forgets how unsure he still is about his new image, and is able to sing his all. At one point, he even shrugs out of his white, sweat-soaked shirt and continues shirtless until the end.
It's the first time since he started wearing pants and regular shoes that the audience doesn't seem to care.
It's interesting because he also feels more confident at the end to sign autographs. He doesn't feel exposed and vulnerable, lacking confidence off the stage. The tight pants still make him feel sexy--and Hermann still finds him desirable--but strong at the same time. People reach out to touch him, and he doesn't shy away from them, lets their fingers trail over his arms. Maybe it's better this way, where Jet Ring is more accessible than before.
And his feet bother him a hell of a lot less.