maskormenacelogs | [Closed]

Entry tags:

[Closed]

WHO: Newt Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb - eventually Mako Mori [CLOSED]
WHERE: De Chima (two hotels, two taxis, one cafe, and the porter ~~in a pear tree~~), then Maurtia Falls (Newt's apartment)
WHEN: August 15th-16th - immediately following the August 2015 Swear-In, after Qubit portals them out - forward from there
WHAT: The scientists yell, they argue, they cry, they hold each other together. Then they invite Mako for pizza and try not to spoil their canon for her.
WARNINGS: Newt drops several F-bombs and other lesser curses. Lots of arguing, some serious some childish. Some throwing up. Discussion of their respective mental/physical conditions. Panic attacks. Discussion of self-experimentation of the dissection variety. A single mention of embryonic stem cells. Newt puts his tea on ice--and that's apparently sacrilegious to Hermann.

Hermann and Newt - De Chima to Maurtia Falls
( I know that I've got issues | But you're pretty messed up too )

Hermann, Newt, and Mako - Maurtia Falls
( Either way I found out | I'm nothing without you )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am not suicidal! Self-destructive, sure, but--LOOK." He took a deep breath, preparing to argue his case because, really, Hermann was being dumb, emotional, and if he could just get his head out of his ass--! Newt had more than enough experience defending his theses. He knew Hermann would fight him on his logic anyway, always did, but this mattered. Hermann would have to see that. It wasn't a matter of cutting out a kidney just for curiosity's sake. If nothing else, he'd just keep talking. Hermann had to shut up and listen eventually.

"Maybe my solution is inelegant, but it IS rational. I've always thought it was dumb that comics gave these guys regenerative abilities and the BEST thing they could think to use it for? Stopping bullets with their bodies. Now that's an inelegant solution. You have a potentially immortal being and they choose to be a fucking glorified shield! It's a wasted opportunity." His voice got softer, but no less passionate, his hands working to explain and grasp at a scientific process he didn't have in front of him. "If I can regenerate parts of organs, nerves, and I'm sure it is possible I could negate the blood poison... Stem cells have so much possibility, Hermann. By the time the Kaiju attacked, we'd barely scratched the surface. It's a shame I'm not female, because embryonic stem cells would be fantastic, but we'll work with what I have.."

He held up his hand, eager to add one more thought, lest Hermann think he wasn't accounting for misuse. "And before you worry, I'll break the mold after I'm done. I'll delete my data, burn it, whatever satisfies you that it won't fall into the wrong hands. But I'd be a fool and a coward not to TRY."

Hermann experienced a brief moment of absurd relief that Newton wasn't female, if only because of how much worse this could be in pursuit of his research. But the explanation did lend another side to Newton's desire for experimentation, loathe though he was to admit it. He regarded Newton with a searching stare, narrowed eyes seeking out assurance and conviction that he got without even needing to ask.

His frown deepened, jaw tight and cane trembling from the force of his grip. Earnest green eyes stared back. He understood where this was going, the directions Newton wanted to take his research in if he could harness his ability.

It's too late, he almost said in the face of such sincerity, but held it back lest the line of thought betray them both.

Hermann finally broke eye contact, stepping away to allow Newton to pull himself back up. Now that he'd lost the moral high ground to crucial scientific advances, there was little left to argue.

"You are.. going to be very very careful," he conceded at last. "And this is not something you'll be attempting without real medical professionals on hand."

Newt climbed to his feet and stepped back, giving them both some room to breathe in, eyes still on Hermann. The weight of that secret was off his shoulders, and in place of that, the weight of a task Newt considered both one of the more selfish and selfless things he had ever set out to do. He knew Hermann could give him the numbers on the chance of success (conservative numbers, Hermann was overly cautious), but the odds didn't matter. They'd beat the odds, if they had to.

"Of course I'll be careful. Scout's honor." Not that Newt was ever a boy scout, though he had been tempted and could undoubtedly have amassed a lot of badges with little difficulty. Not the point at the moment. He gave a two-finger salute briefly and hoped Hermann saw the sincerity behind the lighthearted gesture. That Hermann was even conceding and consenting to this at all meant more than anything.

"And I guess this means we'll have to start making friends with some doctors! Unless you think Qubit's secretly an MD?" If only they could be so lucky. Newt would have liked the doctor in question to be someone who understood the nature of his request and the goals behind it, without a lot of the 'getting to know you' song and dance, someone he would comfortably confide in (or as comfortably as Newt could, considering he hadn't even taken too many into confidence in all his time at the PPDC, or MIT, or ever, really). Regardless, hopefully the surgeons, anesthesiologists, or whatever (beggars cannot be choosers--even a pediatrician or a veterinarian would be helpful) they found to aide them would be more professional and less frightening than Chilton, because, worryingly, someone else was likely going to have to be trusted to hold the scalpel at least once or twice.

Their taxi honked and Newt finally took his eyes from Hermann and turned to glare death at the driver, swearing under his breath. "For fuck's sake, can't a guy have a moment with his best friend?" He huffed and grumbled and went to gather their belongings.

Best friend.

Hermann stared, struck utterly speechless by two simple words. Newton could've been speaking a foreign language through a particularly slow translator for the time it took for his brain to extricate itself from an isolated childhood to the present. Friends had always been few and far in-between, and he could admit with some trepidation that Newton had been the closest thing he had to one for the past decade. They'd only come close to acknowledging it- albeit silently- this morning.

The shock of hearing it aloud, let alone singular in deepened definition left him moving in a muted haze, blood rushing through his ears as he strained to catch the cab fare total. He was too preoccupied with watching Newton like some new mystery had appeared in the universe to argue the hiked fare to account for their sidewalk discussion or contest any of the grumbling accusations the driver tossed in their general direction. He handed over the total without complaint and only briefly checked to make sure they had everything.

He wanted to say something- anything to relieve the burst of scattered nerves and transition to their conversational norm- but instead, Hermann simply plucked up his cool tea and their bag of food and focused on making sure he didn't pass out before they made it to the city's porter.

It occurred to him that he'd never had a best friend, and now that he apparently had one, wasn't quite certain what to do about it. It was admittedly a little pathetic to only just begin considering at his age. What he imagined was supposed to be a triumph felt more like an unsettling reminder of just how poorly he got along with other people.

Hermann had become uncomfortably quiet and involved in the walk and in his tea and in his silence. Was it something Newt said? Something he did? Shit, yeah, it probably was. It always was, and that Hermann wasn't yelling was weird and new and frightening. He'd thought they'd resolved the dissection issue, maybe. But now he was retracing the conversation with few leads to go on. Was Hermann still digesting it? Was he thinking about doctors or Qubit or Newt's promise to be careful? The last thing Newt recalled saying was that the taxi driver was a douche for cutting short their moment.

Was that what got Hermann? Was it not a mutual moment? Was it that he called Hermann his Best Friend? That was it, wasn't it. Best was too personal, not something Hermann would like. Wow, great job, Newt. He could remember trying to insert himself into lunch-groups with gusto and being met with a wide-berth at the table. Friendships were spectacularly difficult when you knew you were more brilliant than anyone else in the room, when you talked a mile a minute, and when your interests were yours alone. How did people even become friends (without luring them into a penpalship)? Like, at what point were you allowed to declare yourself friends? When could you advance to the stage of Best? Was there an algorithm? A little percent bar you had to fill up like a Sim? Yeah, probably. Newt was the Sim trying to initiate all the overly-friendly interactions with people who he didn't have enough social points with him yet.

He just thought Hermann... No. Just because Newt was a nerd who didn't have too many significant friendships and this thing with Hermann that lasted a decade was by far his most important relationship, didn't mean Hermann felt the same way or wanted to put that label on it.

"So, uh...you okay?" He walked along beside Hermann, bag slung over his shoulder. "If this silence is about the Best Friend thing, it just sort of slipped out. No pressure. You don't have to reciprocate, of course--sorry if I just up and gave you the title without asking you--and if there's someone else, I totally understand, dude, because it's not like we've had the most stable of relationships all these years and the last 24hrs has been pretty much a highlight reel of the rollercoaster that is our life together. It's totally cool."

Hermann looked askance to Newton (still a puzzle between his hands, a rubik's cube that suddenly shifted colors mid-twist) and speaking with nerves that made it clear a casual dismissal would not be 'totally cool'. He swallowed and turned his attention back to the flooring ahead of them.

"Someone else," he repeated flatly. "Don't be absurd. As if I've had time, let alone the inclination." Neither of them had left the lab long enough to really form solid friendships even on base. He supposed it was only natural after spending so much time together, despite the argumentative nature of their relationship.

"No Newton, I confess I'm past the point of understanding such social intricacies."

It was all needlessly complex where he was concerned, and his relationship with Newton refused to conform to any particular set of coordinates on even the most sophisticated coordinate plane. Friends were pleasant to one another- supportive, engaging, and trustworthy. He supposed Newton was most of those things with enough frequency to merit the title, but what did 'best' refer to? If Newton was his only friend, (and he was, to some extent) was the title irrelevant? It was far too arbitrary of a descriptor to offer any insight, and he couldn't help but wonder if it meant he should be treating him any differently.

Or was he doing that already? Their dynamic post-drift had certainly impacted their recent exchanges, more closely resembling the burgeoning friendship expressed through years of letters before the clash of mistaken expectations and reality had forced them apart. Only now they were circling back in a gravitational shift, weaving in and out of orbit with every conversation.

What do you want out of this?

It occurred to Newt deep down that it was selfish and vain, but he was nevertheless very pleased to know he was Hermann's one and only, his best friend if only by default. It meant, to Newt, that he was the one who saw Hermann for how special he was, while being worth his attention in return. It brought a subdued, private smile to his lips and a sparkle of childlike happiness to his green eyes.

"Maybe I am too--we're such nerds, man--but old dogs can learn new tricks. That myth was totally busted."

What DID he want from Hermann anyway? Nothing, really. Friendship was difficult to put a definition on. 'How it used to be' wasn't his goal. He liked how things had evolved organically and messily even if he did want to rekindle that budding friendship and camaraderie from their penpal days.

Respect. He had that. Companionship, check. Beyond that, Newt didn't know what else was required or expected or considered part of the friendship definition. He had never had anyone like Hermann before, someone who he could talk to forever, someone who was part-brother, part-rival, part-teammate, the other half of his brain. Someone who endured him. This was more durable than any relationship other than that with his dad and uncle.

Newt caught Hermann by the sleeve and slowed his pace until he stopped. He took a visibly deep breath.

"Herm, there is no catch, if that's what you're thinking," he said, in answer to that unvoiced question. "...But I want…everything, I guess. I want you to tell me when I have a really awfulidea or my tie is too skinny, even if I disregard your advice. I want to argue with you until my alarm goes off in the morning because we're both too passionate to give up. I want you to tell me about crazy math stuff even when you know I don't understand and I want to need to understand so BADLY that I look it up when you're not looking. I want to secretly dub our lunch table the Cool Kids table, because it is. It DEFINITELY is. Whether things go right or spectacularly wrong, which let's face it is usually the case with me, I want you to be the first person I want to tell."

Newt swayed back on his heels nervously, feeling more naked than their Drift, more excited than his birthday, giddy like a teen on prom night. "That's it. I want you to want it too. With me more than anyone else. I think that's what would qualify as Best Friends. Be my first Best Friend, dude. Don't make me get down on one knee and propose Best Friends Forever with dumb bracelets. I might not make it in these jeans."

It really felt like something of a marriage proposal. In the middle of a public space no less, the man's words passionate, sincere, hopeful, and directed solely at him. It was a rush of expressed feeling he didn't know how to handle in another person, let alone himself, and Hermann dismissed an insane urge to kiss him just to put a stop to it. But that would be inappropriate and send all the wrong messages.

He dropped his head to his chest and stared down at the floor, the rubber tip of his cane twisting in small semi-circles against the tiling. The attention alone was too much, as being a fixed point of Newton's single-minded intensity was always both uncomfortable and strangely flattering. He couldn't remember the last time anyone else had looked to him with the same measures of affection and appreciation. (Because even then it was still Newton, in the precious moments before their drift.)

Brown eyes met green and Hermann straightened, hooked his cane over an elbow and offered a hand between them. He could do this, he could officially befriend the man that to some extent, he was entrusting his future to. There was no need to hide the smile in his voice.

"It sounds like something we've been doing for years."

Hermann was so funny when he was bashful; Newt had seen it a few times but rarely been the reason for it. He looked so young, features soft as he stood there twisting his cane and gazing down, like the young man Newt had met over a decade ago. He should have said this kind of thing to Hermann then, though it wouldn't have meant as much without the weight of years and struggles behind it, and the Hermann back then would probably not have responded so favorably. But he should have told Hermann the joy of finding his letters in the mailbox, the way he would spend all day mentally composing his replies until he was free to put them on paper, and that Newt had wanted so badly to work with him, despite their very different studies.

Newt would prefer not to own up to it, but his initial response to Hermann's words was a pathetically choked, happy sob that dissolved into a laugh. With much amusement and intentional awkwardness, he pat the offered hand as if confused--and he was a little confused, mostly at how well this turned out, but not nearly enough to not recognize what to do with Hermann's hand--before clasping it firmly and enthusiastically, eyes bright and smile growing at the sight of Hermann's own.

"Exactly! Exactly! Which is why we're going to ace this! We'll be the best Best Friends to ever friend!" He used their joined hands to tug Hermann in close and threw his other arm around his Best Friend's shoulders in a tight hug.

Hermann stumbled into the embrace, throwing his arm wide to avoid having their sandwiches smashed between them and losing his cane in the process. Newton supported his weight as he regained his footing, and he let himself rest there for a moment, left arm tentatively pressing against Newton's back, and hands too full for anything else. But it was nice- safe-, and their hands clasped between them sealed their friendship for good. It was like a promise of something that would never break and stood in testament of all the emotional strife they'd gone through in the past several hours.

He slowly extricated himself from the embrace and bent down to pick up his cane. He was still smiling when he straightened, still riding their emotional high. "By Jove, there is no doubt in my mind that we would have made exceptional pilots."

I gotcha. Of course Hermann would think of the sandwiches, Newt thought wryly. Always covering the details. Unlike last night, stumbling into their hotel room, he had a much better handle on Hermann's weight and height here and the way his friend was leaning down into him made it all the easier to hug him. Hermann was warmth and tweed, the fabric rough under his fingertips and Newt held him as long as he was allowed, feeling like this, more than the hugs in LOCCENT, was the embrace a decade long overdue.

We still could be exceptional pilots.

It had always been a dream of Hermann's to be a pilot. He loved the Jaegers, genuinely, in a way even Newt didn't feel for the Kaiju. There had been times when he had been selfish enough to be glad Hermann couldn't--for all sorts of reasons--but he could feel a flutter through his chest at the thought of being 'exceptional pilots' and Newt wasn't sure if it was his own or Hermann's. Maybe both, though Newt had no desire of his own to be a pilot. Still...

Newt's highs always included an outpouring of words and this one was no different. Even fresh off an extraordinary bonding moment, his mouth was running without him, spewing forth ideas. "Hell yes we would! Sometimes I wish we had time to study the data from our Drift. I mean, couldn't have been more than five minutes, but I have no doubt---we were solid. I think even Tendo would be impressed. And that's not even taking into account the Hivemind. That's just you and me, buddy. We did that. 100%, we held down that Drift. No Jaeger could possibly contain these minds. You're gonna have to build us a bigger, badder machine."

Intelligence or 'brain power' held no correlation to the size of a Jaeger, but the thought made him laugh anyway. He flashed a grin at Newton and gestured them forward again. They could do it, he knew. Mako held the hands-on ability to build the Jaeger itself, he knew how to code them, and Newton could probably scrape together another drift interface with enough time. But they wouldn't, because it would be offering a large-scale weapon to an unpredictable foreign government. It was something they would do under only dire circumstances.

And back home, the age of the Jaeger was over- at least for now. He'd be back to predicting another Breach occurrence once they returned-- if they returned-- and much as he loved the Jaegers, it would be better for the world if they weren't needed ever again. His medical exemption had prevented him from piloting before, and likely would again, but it was an impossible dream he'd long since accepted.

"It was enough to simply drift with you, Newton," he admitted. To understand and be understood on such a deep level, the feeling of complete unity with another person- a bond between pilots that he'd sometimes find himself envying like all the rest. As inconvenient as their bond here could be, it was comforting, and the thought of being without it was just a little terrifying. "The circumstances could stand to have been more ideal, but it's certainly an experience I will never forget."

Hermann's laugh was rarer than his true smiles. It softened his angular features, emphasized the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and gave those eyes a not-unattractive warmth and mirth. The last couple of years had been hellish as the Kaiju attacks became more frequent, the Wall got underway, and the Jaegers fell, and there were fewer and fewer reasons to laugh and smile. Their victory had been a blur. He didn't really realize how much he had missed that rare side of Hermann and, once again, Hermann was old-data with new results, both endearing and fascinating.

Neither will I. The thought was interrupted as Newt tripped over his own feet and the stumble broke the look of something like admiration with which he had been gazing up at Hermann. He straightened himself out with a faint chuckle and a 'I meant to do that' attitude.

"Ah, about that. ...I never really said thank you for that, Hermann." He lightly and intentionally bumped his shoulder into Hermann's arm, smiled, and promptly looked down. To keep from tripping again, he told himself as he scuffed his shoes along the flooring. And to keep from tripping Hermann, too. "But, thank you." For once, he let the silence settle in between them as they walked and it felt comfortable, at least for now, like the sound of chalk in an otherwise quiet lab. Newt busied himself watching the path in front of them, Hermann's cane at his side, enough distance do Newt never ran into it, but close enough so no passers-by did either.

Finally, though, he grew too antsy for noise. "Man... We get really sappy when we're hungry." He grinned and glanced up, casting a sideways look over at Hermann.

The drift wasn't something Newton ever had to thank him for. Or rather it was, as Newton's chances of survival with a whole (if infantile) Kaiju brain a second time in one day had been rather alarming, but it felt like a natural choice. Because they were friends-- even when they were at odds with one another, even when they didn't acknowledge it-- and it seemed like something friends did. Maybe even best friends.

So he nodded and didn't even attempt a deflection this time. At least not about that.

"Perhaps it's the medication," he said in rare humor. Not that his medication had much of a chance of affecting Newton, but that didn't matter. This was an irregular expression of genuine emotion for them.

Hermann held out his wrist as they neared the porter, officially flashing 'registered' under the scanner, and stepped past security to wait for Newton. "We'll get back, eat, check in on Miss Mori, and perhaps order something else, as I'm sure the two of us could stand to consume something more than a sandwich."

And what food they had stocked was a few days older now. Perhaps a shopping trip would be in order if they had the energy.

As natural as the choice may have been for Hermann to make, it had never been a choice Newt thought he would. On some level, if he was honest with himself, Newt had been scared shitless, hoped to live long enough to tell a tech whatever intel he found, and had just been happy to gripe with Hermann before he pushed that button. In fact, when Hermann showed up with the helicopter and Newt's drift machine, he had been grateful to the Marshal for ordering the mathematician to come; he would have never allowed himself to believe that Hermann would be there otherwise.

So Hermann deserved those thanks, and by extension an apology, and much more...for defying Newt's pathetically low expectations of people and for reminding him what friendship was. And for being his Best Friend.

"You know, that makes this all your fault," he teased back at Hermann's joke. Soberingly, it occurred to Newt that the joke wasn't untrue; this last argument and the subsequent friendship confession was tied to Hermann's medication, or it was inasmuch as Hermann's condition was tied to Newt's new research goals.

At the porter, Newt grumbled but showed his wrist to the guard when directed to, taking a moment to ponder the nanites again, then caught up to Hermann.

You should eat especially. Newt was so hungry, but at least he hadn't thrown up multiple times in the last day as Hermann had. "Unless that sandwich grew to the size of a house in the time since we bought it, yeah. I've got chips and some other snacks that could pad out our lunch, and we can always order a pizza. Maybe invite Mako for a pizza party."

Hermann nodded agreement, an unofficial consensus to convene in Newton's apartment for lunch, and turned to request to be ported to the apartment complex specifically. He hadn't expected to make it on his feet quite this long already and anymore travel would be tempting fate. If he wasn't on the very of passing out, he would've taken more time to be curious about the mechanics of the porter, but as it was, he was simply grateful to step up to the pad and open his eyes to see their complex standing in front of them.

Fascinating, he thought as he had the first time they'd gone to De Chima, and wondered if his teleportation ability worked in a similar fashion. Inside, he headed straight for the elevator and jabbed '6' with the butt of his cane. He slumped back against the elevator wall with a sigh.

"How exhausting." To think they'd only been awake for a few hours, but his endurance had never been notable and the lack of nutrition was catching up to him.

He was still a little leery of the government-controlled porters, cool as they were, and Newt would prefer to travel by Qubit portals, though it was silly and impractical to expect Qubit to come with them everywhere. That was, honestly, the only really non-scientifically appealing part of Hermann learning to teleport that he'd decided on so far.

Once in the elevator, Newt tried to mask his concern as he sidled up next to him and leaned against the rail. "It's... been an adventure. We can crash for a bit and then call Mako. There's no rush. I was thinking, if your stomach isn't up for a sandwich yet, I might have some canned soup. I think I need a nap before I'm capable of dealing with humans again." Other than Hermann.

Newt was tired too, drained emotionally and physically, but he had always had a frightening knack for running on fumes and nothing more substantial than coffee for longer than was likely safe. If he pushed himself, he could probably go on autopilot for another couple hours and think nothing of it, but he wouldn't be wholly pleasant to be around... Not that he regularly was.

When the lift reached their floor and the doors slid open, he stepped into the way enough to block their auto-close mechanism so Hermann had as much time as needed to negotiate getting out at his own pace. "Sixth Floor. Housewares, Jewelry, Stodgy Mathematicians. Everyone out!"

Another time, he would've responded with a tirade attacking Newton's professionalism and laboratory hygiene, but he'd have plenty of opportunities for that later. Right now, a nap sounded like heaven. His own stomach didn't know if it was hungry or nauseous, and soup was probably the better option.

Hermann gave a nod and pried himself from the elevator wall, moving slowly into the hallway and sticking near the wall as he fought off a rush of dizziness. Which door was Newton's? Or his own. At this point, it really didn't matter. His vision was spotting and the light-headedness threatening to drop him where he stood finally forced him to stop and lean heavily against the wall. He needed to sit down immediately, but he'd never make it back off the floor.

"Newton.." He could barely hear himself through the rush of blood in his ears.

The dizzying buzz started somewhere behind his eyes, creeping in to darken his vision and, almost like the hallucinations, it was both there and not, overlaid with reality as his head spun and, anticipating the collapse, he reached out to grab Hermann around the middle even as he was being asked. "Herms!"

It took a lot of his strength and a little help from the wall at Hermann's back to keep him upright. Gangly as he was, Hermann was not as convenient to carry as most of the heavy stuff in the lab, Newt was already laden with their bags, and, while maybe it would have been wiser to lower him to the floor, the part of Newt's brain that was Hermann said it was an indignity he maybe didn't really want to suffer.

He pat his Best Friend's back. It's okay. We're okay. Breathe. Close your eyes. Lean on me. Breathe.

His own door was the next one along the wall. Newt eyed the distance and pulled out his keys. They could do it, it wasn't far, and his couch wasn't much farther still... Then Hermann could relax in the comfort of his own space...Newt's space. Same thing. They truly were synonymous.

"You wanna come inside?" the invitation as casual as if he were just asking Hermann over for a visit. What he really wanted to know was if Hermann--the stubborn idiot--thought himself up for that short, supported walk. "Or we can picnic in the hall. I'm totally game for either."

Caught between Newton and the wall, Hermann rested there for several minutes, staring into space and waiting for his vision to clear and the faint whine in his ears to fade. He couldn't even feel the pain in his left leg anymore, and that was more worrying than comforting. His pain killers weren't that good, and it was too much like the night before, the brief jolt of panic snapping him back to attention.

Breathe.

"Let's go," he said finally, an answer to questions he'd barely registered to begin with.

Hermann straightened with effort and kept as much of a grip on his cane as he could manage. His tea, he was dimly aware, had fallen at some point, but he couldn't be bothered with it now. The few extra feet stretched in front of them looked like a mile, but they'd make it- they had to, they were so close, and this time his legs were working, albeit reluctantly. He silently promised his body all the food and rest it wanted so long as it supported him to Newton's apartment.

Surprising himself, Newt was patient with him, more patient than he thought he'd be with anyone else, maybe including himself. He made no press to move, had no desire to rush, let Hermann lean and recover as long as necessary. At one point, as Hermann rested, it occurred to him that they were breathing together as drifting partners often did in the Jaeger.

At the voiced decision, he gave a single determined nod and hooked his fingers in Hermann's belt for added hold before starting together for the door, Newt murmuring a constant and babbling stream of encouragement and random unrelated observations. They remained close to the wall for added support and, when he finally reached his door, Newt made quick work of opening it.

The apartment was sparse. There were bags from a hardware store against the wall and a stack of library books on the table, but he hadn't made much effort to buy decor, save for two old-style Godzilla posters on the living room wall that Newt had, at some point, clearly gone out of his way to both shop for and have framed. The radio Qubit and Hermann had supplied him was featured where it could easily be heard around the space.

Without the wall to now aid him, Newt stumbled forward into the room. It wasn't graceful, but there was a strain and tension in his body that betrayed the restraint and care he was trying to move with. At the couch, he helped Hermann ease himself down to sit, lowered the bags onto the floor, then with an exhausted exhale, dropped onto the couch beside him.

The door was still wide open. Newt groaned and flopped into the armrest, unwilling to get up.

Hermann sank into the couch, endlessly grateful to have something solid to rest his entire weight into. He closed his eyes as Newton dropped next to him and released a slow breath. His body was quite finished with moving and he did promise it rest, so he relaxed and let himself float in fading dizziness, faint nausea, and mild pain for awhile. An uncomfortable mix of sensations, but nothing particularly alarming about any of them now that he was no longer vertical. He’d start to take care of them soon.

Something crinkled, and Hermann blinked down at the bag still caught in his fingers. Somehow, he'd kept hold of their lunch. With an unsteady hand, he reached in and pulled out their sandwiches, passing one over to Newton, who looked like he could use an extra burst of strength. The questionable integrity of his own stomach left him hesitant to try it just yet.

"..You must be getting tired of this."

Newt scratched at his stubble and raised his head to answer Hermann, then snorted as he saw the offered food. He thought they'd lost that along the way. The snort quickly led into a fit of unexpected giggles that eventually had him gasping and doubled over, curled up on the seat, tears in his eyes, laughing in a way that was probably completely unwarranted for the circumstances.

But Hermann STILL had their sandwiches. Of all things his stupid, wonderful lab partner would remember, of course it would be the fucking sandwiches! Again! Worry more about yourself, dude!

Laughing left him breathless, made his stomach ache, and reminded him just how wrung out he felt. He was so damn tired everything could be funny. And this was so oddly, ridiculously hilarious. The whole morning and afternoon came down to the two of them on Newt's couch with sandwiches that had somehow survived their friendship trials with them (there was probably a great metaphor there, but Newt wasn't a poet and the only thing that could have made it better, more poetic, he thought, was if they'd had that bag of food since the start). Gingerly, he took his sandwich, still trying to catch his breath to properly respond, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"You--the damn sandwiches--man, your priorities need sorting." There was a kind of fondness to the words and he unwrapped the sandwich, went to take a bite, thought better of the action and sat up.

Would be really dumb to choke.

He took a bite now and spoke through the mouthful. "Dude, not going to lie--I am tired. Very. But not of 'this' in the sense of 'this' being you, okay. I'm pissed at whoever did this to you." He was pissed at himself for not being more up to the task. Speaking of, he promised soup.

Newt put a hand on Hermann's shoulder and levered himself up, feeling like an old man trying to get out of his recliner.

Hermann's lips twitched in subtle humor, Newton's nervous laughter rolling over him in a tired, warm rush of feeling. He lacked the energy to join him- likely a good thing, as he doubted his body could handle the convulsions. But it was reassuring in its own way that the man could still find it in him to laugh, even if it was on the edge of stress and exhaustion.

Hermann braced Newton with a hand under his forearm to make sure he didn't fall right back into gravity's clutches. "I'll be alright, Newton. It has just been.. a very long twenty-four hours."

The event, complete loss of independent mobility, the lingering unsteadiness and nausea, stress triggering a flare-up resulting in pain, a dose of medication, and more physical exertion than his body was capable of dealing with under a distinct lack of energy reserves. He'd been forced to rely on Newton a few too many times for comfort, and that was only somewhat tempered by the newfound friendship between them.

"My limitations are beginning to grate."

"Thanks." If Newt sounded surprised by the helping hand, it's because he was.

He took the sandwich with him to the little adjoining kitchen and found a paper plate for it, with Hermann's frustration with himself and the situation palpable as Newt began shuffling around the kitchen.

"Yeah, I know." He opened a can of chicken noodle into a pan on the stove and then stole another bite from his sandwich. "Kick off your shoes and relax, Herms. We're deserving of a much simpler 24 hrs and we're going to take it, okay. No network, no calls, no TV. When I get overstimulated and have to shut down, I turn off all the lights, unplug shit, hide, sleep...whatever it takes. So that's what we'll do."

Shutting off the burner, he poured the soup into a dinosaur mug, with a little mess, wiped it off with a towel, and brought over the mug and a glass of water to Hermann. "I know you know, obviously, but careful. It's hot."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject