Chapter Text
It would be seriously fucking ironic, if Newt Geiszler, PhD (times a few), world saver extraordinaire (times one, once was more than enough to fuck him up) was finally defeated by normal people problems.
“Dude, this is fucking ridiculous. How is there this much paperwork?!”
Hermann, who was parked at his desk and had the literal mountains of forms spread around him like a blast radius, looked surprisingly unconcerned. He also looked just a little bit judgy, when he peered at Newt over the top of his reading glasses. “There would be less of it if you saw fit to assist me.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Newt was, as a matter of fact, neck deep in his own stack of shitty forms, and therefore stuck his tongue out. “The- five? Six? I don't even know anymore because it's boring as fuck, but the ones you've given me are doing my nut. No way are you adding more. I will lose my shit, Herms, you have no idea.”
Of course, Hermann was completely aware of Newt's shit, or the loss thereof, courtesy of being very much a resident in the back of Newt's brain. It was probably why Hermann hadn't added any more to the horrible to-do list of doom, actually; he could clearly feel Newt was getting close to saturation point and was about to blow his top.
“Hmm, now that you mention it, I think I'm starting to get hungry. A break might be in order.” Hermann quirked his lips into a bit of a smile, and gave Newt's brain the mental equivalent of a poke. It was a fucking weird sensation, but Newt couldn't exactly lie; he was totally into it. Hermann's ridiculous talents when it came to the manipulation of their little Hive of two were awesome.
“You're still skinny as fuck. I legit don't know how you're not constantly starving, Herms, no joke.” Granted, Hermann had been eating way, way better since the world had failed to end, mostly because they had shit all to do but paperwork. He'd filled out just a fraction and possibly gained a tiny smidge of muscle, but he still looked a little bit like someone had kept him locked in their celler for the last... Eh, maybe ten years?
He was all pale and poorly looking, which just added to the whole aura of ‘just escaped a concentration camp’ thing he had going on. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really; the Shatterdome didn't exactly let in a lot of light, and being all squashed down in the basement with the monster carcasses was shit. No wonder poor Hermann looked really badly cared for.
“Our laboratory isn't a prisoner of war camp, you menace.” There was the judgemental look again, this time coupled with Hermann's new speciality; the mental ear clip. “Nor is the Shatterdome in general.”
“I mean… Kind of is, Herms.” Nasty, rusty metal fallout shelter, complete with suspiciously drippy walls and horrible living quarters. Newt was used to life in the last remaining Shatterdome, but he had never managed to reach the stage where he liked it. He missed outside so bad, sometimes, even if outside was full of monsters.
“I don't look that bad.” Hermann totally did. Newt hadn't really noticed towards the end, because they had both been in such a fucking state, but he'd had a really, really long time to think while his brains were being scooped off the floor or whatever.
The Hermann in Newt's head, the one who had always been there, was sleek, well fed and impeccably dressed. A passionate, sarcastic, wonderful piece of shit that Newt could spend days sparring with and still have endless things to talk about. Back at the beginning, when they had both been younger and a hell of a lot less burdened, Hermann had been fucking glorious to behold.
He still was, though. Even worn thin and exhausted by expectation and heartbreak, Hermann Gottlieb was still the star that Newt's funny little planet self trundled around. It didn't matter if they were fucked up, strung out and furious, ripping themselves and each other to pieces as the world burned, because Hermann was it for him.
“You look like shit.” All the things that Newt didn't say; Hermann understood them. He could feel them, in the strange blue place that tied their souls together.
“Charming.” Hermann took off his glasses, and gave his eyes a rub. The left one was still kind of iffy, bit of blood left in the sclera, but it was nowhere near as gross as it had been. Fuck, it was nowhere near as gross as Newt's garbage left eye still was.
“I mean, I love you for your brain, dude, you know that. But also you are super, mega skinny even with all the effort I've been putting in to fix it. I need to feed you, a lot, and we need to get you some sun.”
Newt had been working so hard to make sure Hermann was well cared for. It was sort of difficult, because Newt had been roasted by his own stupid mad science rampage, and his everything was still majorly fucked up. Newt kind of needed Hermann like other, less crazy people needed oxygen, and he was maybe feeling just a smidge like he wasn't pulling his weight. Go figure. Double go figure, because not only was he apparently incapable of filling in really, really simple forms, but he was also distracting Hermann from it, too.
“Come here.” Yeah, Hermann could, without a shadow of a doubt, tell that Newt was getting himself all mopey. He'd always been able to tell, but front row seats to the shit show obviously made it way easier for him.
Still, Newt took the out for what it was, and bounced to his feet. He then nearly fell the fuck over, because his head was still a little bit wonky after the whole mindmeld with a monster to save the world sitch. He was so much better than the drooling mess he had been right after, but recovery was apparently a process.
As if to prove that he was, once and forever, the very best brain buddy, Hermann sort of sensed Newt's stupid before it happened, and used the end of his walking stick to gently nudge Newt back into alignment. “Slowly, you idiot. Neither of us will be able to make our escape if you fall and break something.”
Newt gave himself a second, because the headrush was kind of nasty, but at least it wore off fast. As little as two weeks ago, he would have puked, so yeah; progress. “Ugh, I am majorly looking forward to the day when that stops happening.”
“It would happen a whole lot less if you stopped rushing around all over the place.” Hermann's fussy little sniff was way less insulting, now Newt could feel the fondness underneath. Also, Hermann had totally poked Newt just right to stop him falling on his face, which absolutely gave him a pass.
Well, half a pass, because no way could Newt let that slide. He grabbed onto the end of Hermann's walking stick, and gave it a playful shake. “Ha! Hermy, Herm-Herm, love of my life, you are the literal worst person for overdoing it and fucking yourself up, so shush.”
Hermann rolled his eyes, and used his stick to sort of… reel Newt in. “I believe someone said that the end of the world gives us a pass. Hmm, I wonder who it was…”
“You're such a pain in the ass.” Newt happily wandered into Hermann's space, then tossed the stick out of the way so he could flop over the back of the desk chair and get his arms around Hermann's shoulders. “But I'll forgive you if you do the gross paperwork and don't, like, broadcast it straight into my brain while you're at it.”
Pros of his new location: skinny math professor to snuggle and the epic levels of feel good hormones that produced. Cons: Newt could now see all the horrible forms Hermann was working on, and they were super fucking gross and harshed his high. There was so much of it…
“I'm well aware that you find this sort of nonsense overwhelming.” Yeah, no fucking shit. Still, Hermann stopped the whole work thing for a moment, to give Newt's arms a squeeze. “I'm quite happy to tackle the monotonous parts while you go find us some lunch.”
“It's all monotonous. It's boring as shit, Herms, and it's legitimately driving me crazy. I'm already crazy, but this crap is beyond a joke and I'm dying!” Was Newt being a whiny little bitch about some forms? Yeah, maybe. But Newt had suffered through the literal worst few months of his life, toasted his brains and nearly been eaten by a seamonster; he deserved a break from the fucking paperwork.
Hermann, because he was the best person in the entire universe (according to Newt, but Newt was the expert), sort of bumped their heads together. It was a weird sensation, because Hermann was normally taller; with him sat down and Newt stood up and draped over him it was all… duality. The good kind of duality, not the horrible two places at once kind they sometimes still got, which always made Newt feel like he was about to hurl.
Another weird thing? The close cropped hairs on the top of Hermann's ridiculous head tickled Newt's chin. Newt wouldn't exactly miss the ugly as hell haircut Hermann had fashioned for himself as the world sort of imploded, but the neat, short style he had been given for photographs was still a bit of a mind-fuck.
“Not on my watch you're not.” Hermann told Newt to shut the fuck up. He did it with his brain. Hermann was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a cock. “And stop calling yourself derogatory names.”
“It's not mean if it's true, Herms, but also stop using your brain to pick on me. Evil.” Granted, Hermann had always used his big old brainbox to harass Newt, but it used to be figurative. The literal version… eh, Newt was still completely and utterly into it. He'd kind of always been a little bit thrilled by the whole scathing wall of ultimate intelligence thing Hermann did when he wanted to prove himself right.
Hermann shook with silent laughter, probably because Newt had thought real hard about that, and his brain cooties were so catching. He was nowhere near as good as Hermann when it came to using their little Hive for evil or whatever, but he could absolutely share the love when something was funny. It was epic, when they both got into a feedback loop of good feelings, all fond and warm and entertained.
“I believe the saying is ‘all's fair in love and war’, Newton. I simply use the tools available to me.” Ooh, sassy Hermann. Happy sassy Hermann, which was the best sort of sass, in Newt's totally biased opinion.
“Does that mean I can declare war on this shitty paperwork? Can we just, I dunno, chuck it in a corner somewhere and go eat waffles instead?” Newt would happily relegate all the disgusting work crap to the bin and vegetate in an awesome little brain hug with Hermann instead. It was so fucking easy to lose hours that way, all… squiggled together and vibing.
Unfortunately, Hermann was one of those gross, responsible people, and wouldn't be baited. “It needs to be finished if either of us want to leave here. I know it's incredibly tedious, but once it's done, it's done, and we can move onto much more enjoyable things.”
Oooh, maybe they could go lurk on the helipad and get massively stoned. They'd done it kind of a lot, in the whole post-Armageddon, exhausted and everything hurts stage. Newt's weed garden was probably responsible for the tiny bit of weight Hermann had managed to put on, actually; dude always did eat better when he was high.
“Maybe afterwards.” Hermann had clearly caught Newt's idea. Granted, Newt had sort of wanted him to. “I am not attempting legally binding documents while under the influence.”
Gross. It was a good idea, because the whole mess of ick on the desk in front of them was super, mega important. The scary, hundreds of pages long, multiple copies nightmare that was standing between them and freedom from the PPDC… “I don't know why this is putting me off so bad, Herms.”
Hermann gave him another gentle squeeze. It was nice, to just sort of feel him there. “You've always found this sort of task challenging.”
It shouldn't have been so fucking nice to hear that, but it was. Trust Hermann to sniff out the tiny, wiggly kernel of disquiet Newt had hidden under all of the boredom and executive dysfunction. “Still me, right?”
“Still the same incessant, obnoxious, noisy pain in the arse that you've always been.” Aww, Hermann said the sweetest things sometimes. Still, Newt had really needed to hear it, because the big old tangle of issues he'd developed from the monster mind-fuck weren't exactly gone. They were better, because time, snuggles, therapy and an absolute shit tonne of pot were good like that, but it would take, like, a while before Newt's poor everything recovered.
He was actually starting to believe he would recover, which was a nice change. He'd maybe gone through a little rough patch where all the shitty consequences of his actions sort of fell from the sky and landed on him not too long ago. That had been super enjoyable; zero out of ten, prize winning wank. It still kind of was, but there was also a whole lot of Hermann there to make it less oppressive.
“Love you too, Hermy-Herms.” They had been all codependent for pretty much as long as Newt could remember. Newt knew that they were a matched set, and had been for years. Unfortunately, the ugly depression demon that had eaten Newt's brain and convinced him that bumping brain uglies with a (mostly) dead monster was a great idea… that shit was persuasive .
Hermann, who had his own demons and then some, he got it. He was also in Newt's head, so there didn't have to be any gross explanations. “I'm quite content with how things are between us. If I had been given a choice, to remain out of the Drift and face no consequences… no. The only thing I regret is how badly you were hurt, to get us here.”
They had discussed it, like, a lot over the last however long it had been. Newt still couldn't help coming back to it, though, because he was kind of a mess, and their little alliance had become all one sided. He wanted to feel normal again; he wanted to reach that sweet spot where he was good at some shit, terrible at other shit, and balanced it all out with Hermann.
“There's, I dunno, four separate forms hanging around here that literally say we're it for each other. Proper, legally binding, scary red stamper shit. I know, I've signed the fuckers.” Their Thing was complicated. It was like a big old onion, with about five thousand layers that occasionally sort of spat shit and burned anyone who got too close. Fuck, that was before they had welded their brains together…
“Do you mind? An onion, Newton, really?” The weird sort of lip smack from Hermann suggested that Newt had maybe infected him with thought tastes again. Oops. “At least pick something pleasant, you horrible man…”
“Hey, I like onions!” Newt always ate the ones Hermann picked out of his food. They had a system, and Hermann was always happy to accept the gross carrot bits that Newt found repulsive in return.
They did it with eggs, too, because Newt thought the white bit was grody and Hermann was so, so fussy about the exact specifications of an egg yolk that it was way less hassle if Newt just ate it for him.
“Our whole thing is totally like an onion, because the second someone tries to split us up? Acid. Acid right in the fucking eyeball.” Also kind of true before they smashed their brains together, but it was so, so much worse now. They were both a teeny, tiny, probably insignificant bit defensive of their little Hive and would cut anyone who tried to pry them apart.
Hermann chuffed, and gently knocked their heads together again. “Mmm, perhaps don't explain it like that to outsiders.”
Ha, outsiders could get fucked. Newt had a whole lot of Hermann all up in his head, and he liked it. “That's what the whole ‘married’ thing is for, right?”
It had been a joint idea, because fucking holy shit the bureaucratic nightmare that being permanently linked at the brain caused was legendary. After the sixth, maybe seventh irate phone call explaining that yes, Newt was in his right mind and yes he wanted Hermann to deal with what the fuck ever for him because no thank you it had become so scarily apparent that the rest of the world just… didn't get it.
The whole… The ‘this is Newt, my Drift partner come soulmate in a scarily literal sense, our consciousnesses are a little bit glued together, so we're kind of a pair now’ thing was a giant pain in the ass to explain. A nice, official document, all stamped and signed that said they were joined was just- way easier.
“It certainly makes filling in the paperwork a damn sight less aggravating.” Hermann was the master of form filling, but even he had been close to losing his shit and setting it all on fire, before they realised oh, there's literally a thing for this. A thing that they could do. Marriage even had its own little tick box on most of the forms…
“Yup!” Did a piece of paper mean shit, in the face of everything they had been through together? Not even slightly. Neither of them needed anything official, they didn't even really know what their weird little Thing was, but- normal people problems. Married explained things well enough.
Hell, it hadn't even changed anything; only legal shit. Hermann had already been in charge of Newt's medical crap, his pills, his emails, and over the years Newt had helped Hermann with all of the things. Their names on the dotted line just made the world easier to navigate.
Hermann picked up on that thought, or maybe it was Hermann's thought and they were just all warm and in sync. “The world isn't designed for people like us, but we sure as hell can use their silly little rules to make things easier when the need arises.”
“Fuck the government, fuck the police, but also meh, way too much effort. Might as well use their stupid red tape to tie ourselves a hammock and have a nap.” That sounded like a fantastic idea, to be fair, but Hermann was actually kind of hungry. He was happy, and well and truly basking in the cuddles, but there was a little tickle of unmet needs underneath.
“As much as I would enjoy a nap, this bloody paperwork isn't going to complete itself.” God, if only. Newt's life would be about ten thousand times better if he could just want paperwork done and poof! Done. Same with a lot of things, to be fair.
A magic finger snap to get rid of all the tedious bits would be lovely. Newt would abuse the fuck out of it, but seriously, who wouldn't? “My poor brain is so not up for paperwork right now, but I could bring you snacks?”
“Not anything that will make a mess.” Hermann was all Thoughts about gross sticky fingers on his organised chaos of a desk. He had told Newt off so many times, because food stains on official documents were apparently super unprofessional, who knew.
Newt, who tended to transfer yuck to whatever was in his immediate vicinity no matter what, had sort of embraced the funk, after a while. He also left anything important looking on Hermann's side of the proverbial line, because some of the shit Newt touched was gross.
“I'll see what they have, maybe think real hard about it, and see what the hive mind fancies.”
Apparently the Hermann part of the aforementioned hive mind wanted to clip Newt round the fucking ear again. Rude! Newt tried to make an offended sort of noise, but he ended up laughing instead.
“Oi, mean! See if I bring you back anything good…”