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They've been cleaning for days, trying not to think about what they're going to do with themselves when they're no longer necessary to the world's survival. University lectures is the obvious answer, but it will feel so strange now, to talk about the kaiju and the jaegers as if they are no longer an integral part of day-to-day life. Almost as if they are fictional beasts they came up with years ago.
Hermann is positive that when Newton goes to get coffee it is to leave him with the brunt of kaiju brain to clean up, so he defiantly decides to wait, ankle deep in the muck, for Newton to return. He shouldn't even offer to help him clean this side of the lab, it isn't his side and the slimy innards are only there because Newton is an impulsive idiot savant.
He's tired, so he pulls himself over to the nearest chair and sits down, frowning when he sees the desk next to him covered in a thick layer of brown goo. "Disgusting," he mutters, leaning away from the desk as best he can before he notices a sleek little recorder set down on the cleanest edge of it. Curious, he picks it up. Taped on the back of it is the date that will go down in history as their victory with the words: Kaiju drift experiment 1 written in nearly illegible scrawl.
That only makes Hermann more curious, so he presses the button. He wonders why Newton hadn't bothered to share this with Pentecost or himself, but he decides he'd probably forgotten. The drift had taken a rather unexpected toll on him.
For the first half of the recording, Newton sounds so excited that Hermann can barely hear what he's saying. He's talking so fast, his voice a much higher pitch than usual, that Hermann has to strain to separate words from each other. After a moment, he hears his own name, and startles.
"Hermann, if you're listening to this, well, I’m either alive and I’ve proven what I’ve just done works - in which case, ha, I win..." Hermann rolls his eyes with a begrudging smirk. Yes, he thinks exasperatedly, congratulations.
The recording plays on, almost in the same over-excited breath, "or I’m dead, and I’d like you to know this is all your fault. It really is. You drove me to this." Hermann nearly drops the recorder. He wants to be angry, but before he can even sort out the logic to be so, Newton's tinny voice adds, "In which case ha, I still win. ...sort of."
Hermann's mouth is dry. He turns off the recorder and sets it back down on the desk as if worried it'll somehow play again - maybe even transport Hermann back to that moment he found his colleague twitching and bleeding on the floor. His hands feel strangely awkward and out of place no matter where he puts them. He stares at the floor and tries not to think about it.
He tries not to remember what he learned of Newton in the drift. It hadn't been like a normal neural handshake, they had only done it because they had to, and Hermann doubted Newton trusted him with the kinds of things he learned through his running snapshot of random memories.
But the recording brings them back full-force. Going to college at twelve years old, people looking at him as if he's some kind of monster until he convinces himself he doesn't need anyone to think otherwise. If he's evil, so be it. He's a mad scientist at the age of fifteen and nothing can stop him from doing anything he wants in the whole world. If he wants to take it over, he can.
His mother, the only one who he thinks cares for him at all, is sick and dying with cancer in a hospital in New Jersey, and Newton hasn't seen her since the kaiju attack that brought him to the PPDC nine years ago. All they've had have been a handful of tense phone conversations, ending in uncomfortably mumbled assurances that "yeah mom, I'm happy."
It doesn't matter that no one speaks to him more than strictly necessary because he doesn't need anyone. He has the monsters tearing his world to shreds, and in a way, he connects with them. Everyone else is scared, too scared to try and know anything about them, but that's what makes them interesting. Everyone is too scared to know about him, either.
By the time Newton is twenty he's tried every drug - legal and illegal - he could get his hands on. They don't give him anything he's expecting, and now that doctors have convinced him there's something wrong with his brain he has trouble telling himself he'll ever feel like they're promising he will one day. Just one more test, Mr. Geiszler, we're almost sure this time.
By the time he's twenty-two he stops taking his meds on a regular basis. They make him slow and it's hard to work. He just needs to make sure to stay on the upswing. Manic-depressive is easy as long as you stay manic. Illegal drugs make it too hard to concentrate, but a little coke is necessary now and then. He just can't ever let himself feel anything but excitement.
The world is ending, it's what he's always wanted. He knows he can do this, he knows he can change everything if they just give him a chance. They won't give him permission but he takes it anyway because he knows. No one ever listens anyway, but they'll listen when he's dead. That's how it always works, and Armageddon doesn't change human nature. He's either going to go down with this planet or he's going down saving it.
They'll care, then. He'll make history. People will make up stories and memories of him because no one's ever bothered to ask. His mother will get the best treatment possible because she's the closest thing they've got. Everything he's worked for has a purpose, in the end.
"Coffee break," Newton's voice cuts through Hermann's racing thoughts like a knife. He's smiling, and Hermann wants to punch it right off his blasted face. "I see you've already started," he adds teasingly, setting coffee next to Hermann, moving the recorder in the process. "Jeez, don't be so dramatic," he says suddenly, and Hermann narrows his eyes.
"Wh...what?"
"It's just a little dead kaiju. I promise I'll take care of the nastier bits, I just need a little help, is all. It's not like I'm not giving you a set of gloves."
The words form sentences but the sentences aren't aligning with Hermann's thoughts, so he has to rearrange his mind a moment. "Oh," he says as it occurs to him he's still sitting amidst a mess of rotting alien flesh. He doesn't say anything else, and Newton frowns.
"Dude, are you okay?"
Hermann wonders what he shared in the drift. If Newton knows how he understands the overwhelming isolation of not being treated as an equal even by peers, if Newton knows that he doesn't have anyone, either. He wonders if Newton knows he's the closest thing Hermann has had to a best friend his entire life.
"Dude, you're freaking me out," Newton says firmly, his voice loud, as if he thinks Hermann may be in some sort of trance. When Hermann blinks, he tries again. "Are you okay? Do we need something a little longer than a coffee break? Should I get you some smelling salts?"
Hermann picks up the recorder, making Newton jump as their hands touch. "You win," he says softly, holding it up.
"Oh, hey," Newton says quickly, grabbing the recorder from him, "No, I was just kidding - I, jeez, that was so stupid. I didn't even think, God. I never think, you know that. Shit, I'm really sorry. It wouldn't have been your fault - like, obviously. Hopefully you would've known I was joking. I guess that doesn't make it better."
He thinks he's upset because he blamed Hermann. Another reason doesn't even occur to him. Hermann figures that if he'd heard it prior to drifting with him he'd probably be furious, but he can't find it in him to be angry now. Wildly, he thinks he may never find it in him to be angry at Newton ever again.
Hermann isn't sure what to say. Newton is still mumbling awkward apologies, voice rushed. "I didn't mean it, Hermann, I promise. Don't be mad. I guess it's a good thing I didn't die, right?" He laughs, but it comes out a little flat and uncomfortable, and it makes Hermann want to shove him down a flight of stairs. So much for never feeling angry again.
"Newton." His voice is low, and Newton stops laughing abruptly to hear him. "You saved the world," he reminds him after a moment. "Without you, we'd still be at war. Well, no, we'd probably all be dead."
Another awkward laugh. If anything the words make Newton even more uncomfortable than before. "You helped," he points out.
"Would you shut up and take a compliment, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann snaps, "I am trying to make a point." Startled, Newton nods.
"If you hadn't risked your life drifting with a kaiju brain we would've tried my plan, which was essentially the same thing we've always done, and it would have failed and the world would have fallen, do you understand? You are the most important person currently alive on this planet."
Newton stares at him, and Hermann stares back, daring him to argue. It's quiet for far longer than Hermann is used to when Newton is involved. After a moment, Newton smiles. "Thanks," he says finally. He's quiet for another few seconds. "But that means you're at least second."
"Yes, I'll allow that," Hermann answers with a smirk. He takes a sip of his coffee, but it's gone cold by now. He must make a face, because Newton grabs it from him.
"Lemme go nuke 'em." His voice is strangely soft now. It sounds as if he's only just woken up. He doesn't move right away, and Hermann starts to worry that he may have said something wrong. Newton is just staring at the coffee mugs in his hands, as if waiting for them to turn blue or do a trick.
As Hermann opens his mouth to apologize - he must've overstepped some sort of boundary - Newton sets down the coffee an looks at him. Hermann blinks. Seriousness looks strange on Newton's face. It takes him a moment to realize he isn't sad or angry.
"You're," Newton takes a breath, and Hermann feels insane at the notion that he may be trying not to cry. "You're my best friend, too," he says, and Hermann feels the back of his neck get hot. "And I'm really...I'm really glad you were there. With me. That we did it together."
Hermann wants to say he doesn't know why he does it, but that's not true. He saw it. He saw Newton think of kissing him one day, saw him enjoying the idea and thinking of it more and more until he started to consider their constant bickering more of a flirtation than anything else. He knows Newton wants it and that he'll always be too afraid to ask, because doesn't think he deserves it. So Hermann kisses him instead, because he knows he does.
Hermann hasn't kissed another person in eleven years. He never much saw the point to begin with, and since being hired to the PPDC he hasn't had time even if he wanted to. With the world in the shambles its been in, very few people in his general vicinity are thinking about such simple pleasures.
He isn't sure of the last time Newton has done anything romantic with another person, but the way he responds, Hermann would venture to believe it's been about the same. For a stark moment he freezes, before a jolt of energy goes through him so fast he nearly knocks Hermann down.
When Hermann stumbles, Newton pushes him back against his desk. Hermann allows it until he feels the sick drag of slime under his hand as he grabs onto the desk for stability. He pulls away, "No, no, no. Absolutely not."
Newton looks devastated before he notices Hermann shaking the goop from his hand and realizes what he means. He chuckles. "You're no fun," he teases gently, pulling him forward instead, back into a kiss and walking them both gracelessly backward onto Hermann's side. He trips over Hermann's desk and falls clattering into the chalkboard, Hermann catching him between himself and the board as he begins to fall himself.
Newton laughs, somewhat hysterically, before turning his attention to Hermann's neck. "Should've said something - should've said something earlier, shit." Hermann feels a sudden swell of affection for him. He has no idea how long Newton has felt this way - just that he has - and it startles him to think that anyone could feel such a way about him. Especially someone like Newton.
He's jittery and hard to hold onto, but incredibly enthusiastic. Hermann doesn't think he's ever kissed someone so impossibly chatty. Their kisses only last several seconds before Newton has to pull away to make a comment, or mumble some sort of incoherent noise into Hermann's mouth.
It's quick, because how could it not be. Hermann presses Newton hard against the chalkboard, inexpertly getting into his pants and sliding his hand into Newton's boxers. Newton yelps, fisting one hand in Hermann's hair while the other grappled helplessly at the tray of the chalkboard. "Fuck, fuck."
Hermann expects him to be loud during sex, but Newton's speech finally seems to taper off, blurring into one whimpering, desperate noise that manages to sound vaguely Germanic. Hermann shifts all his weight to his good leg and against the wall so that he can use his other hand to unbutton Newton's shirt.
It's too much effort to get it off, but he pulls it open enough to see the sprawl of monsters across Newton's chest and leans forward to kiss them. He hears Newton huff a laugh. "Knew you - secretly liked them," he says breathlessly.
"Oh, shut up," Hermann chides, biting hard on Newton's collarbone in retaliation.
"Oh shit!" Newton balks, startling them both as he comes into Hermann's hand.
There's silence for a few minutes as they catch their breath, and then Hermann grunts. "I left my cane on your side of the lab."
Without being asked, Newton straightens himself out and hops down from the chalkboard, walking over and picking up his cane from the floor. "Does this mean we can do away with the 'sides' thing, anyway?" he asks hopefully. Hermann almost considers it as he's turning around, until he sees that his cane has become shiny and slick with unknown fluids.
"No," he says flatly. He eyes his cane for a moment before Newton realizes he's not willing to take it and sighs.
"You're no fun," he repeats with a joking pout, holding out his arm. Hermann blinks at it.
"I...do you want help? I figured you'd want to rinse off your cane. Which...I could use a trip to the bathroom myself, so."
It feels ridiculous, getting butterflies over something so mundane, not to mention somewhat filthy, but Hermann leans down and kisses him again. Newton doesn't make a move to dominate or stop the kiss this time, and Hermann is slow and patient. When he finally pulls back, Newton looks almost as if he's blushing.
He clears his throat. "Remind me to heat up our coffee when we get back."
Hermann takes his arm and they leave the lab together. "I'd much rather forget it again," he says seriously.