Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Herms, baby, I think I’m onto something. I need more kidney.”

“Newton, I implore you. If you remain incapable of professionalism, at least try and stay within the bounds of decency. My name is Hermann.”

“Sure thing. Imma just pop down to the XZ, see what I can pick up. D’you want anything?”

Hermann groans, loudly.

“Certainly not.”

Newton waves as he heads towards the reinforced doors. Before he can stop himself, Hermann calls out to him.

“Doctor Geiszler, you cannot actually be planning to go out, dressed as you are.”

He sighs as Newt’s face flickers from enthusiastic to confused.

“Y...yes?” He plucks at his shirt. “I mean, sure it’s got a bit of Blue on it, and maybe a drop of ketchup, or or or coffee, whatever, but I’m not exactly going to a five-star restaura-”

“It is barely fifteen degrees out today, gusty, and raining, without even beginning to touch on the atrocity that is your… outift. For God’s sake, change your shirt and put on a jacket before you leave.”

“Fifteen degre- uh, like sixty. Yeah. Haven’t got time to change, Hermie,” Newt mumbles, ambling over to clutch at Hermann’s parka where it hangs. “Ta.”

“No no no,” Hermann exclaims. He tries to descend his stepladder quickly. “Not ‘ta’, you mongrel. You will not -”

“It was your idea in the first place!”

“No, my idea was for you to put on some decent clothes and find a coat of your own to dissolve with toxic -”

“Oh come on, you know I always neutralise the Blue. Almost all the time,” Newt amends rapidly. “And it’s not like I wouldn’t be doing anyone any favours if you had to throw this shitheap of a fashion disaster out and get something cool, anyway!”

“I do not care one whit about fashion, you egotistical wreck, it’s simply-”

“Obviously, but you still want to tell me what I can and can’t wear, like you’re-”

“-the thought of having to deal with you when you are sick is all that-”

“-my father! I just thought we might share stuff-”

“-motivates me. You have already intruded into every single area of my life, is that not enough?”

“-sometimes. God, I always forget how much you hate me.”

Hermann blinks, pursing his lips a little at the smile he could hear in that voice.

“Leave. Take the damn jacket.” He turns back to his blackboard. Despite Newton’s many and varied faults, he is not cruel, Hermann tells himself. He did not worm his way into Hermann’s heart for the purpose of hurting him. Indeed, he does not know he has done it at all.

Five hours later, Newt returns from the slums cradling a jar filled with cloudy liquid and possibly some purplish flesh. He deposits it on his own workbench before toeing the line that marked the separation of their spaces. Hermann is incomprehensibly pleased that neither the jacket nor the doctor wearing it appear to have been damaged by the excursion.

“Permission to return your God-awful coat, Doctor Gottlieb,” he says sullenly.

“Ah, of course. I trust you had a good time interacting with your fellow kaiju… enthusiasts?”

Newt scowls. “Those bastards aren’t interested in the kaiju, Herms, they’re interested in money, and you know what our budget’s looking like.” He wrestles himself out from the puffy green jacket as though he cannot stand to be in it a moment longer, and throws it over a chair. “All you’ve gotta buy is chalk.”

Hermann wants to tell Newton to put his jacket back where he found it, but the slump of his coworker’s back closes his mouth.

It is entirely unsurprising that Newt appears to have bounced back completely by the next day. His music throbs in Hermann’s head, keeping him from completing his predictions.

“You know how I was saying how they’re not, like, animals?”

“I do my level best to ignore everything you say.”

“Right, so I’m thinking I was kind of wrong?”

“You are often wrong.”

“No, ‘cause it means I’m right!”

“Clearly you need some re-education on the definition of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.”

“Herms.”

“No.”

“Hermie, baby.”

“Verdammt, Newton! Marshall Pentecost wants our reports in four days and I expect we will see a kaiju in three. I need to double-check everything, which is of course difficult with your music-noise in one ear and your nonsense in the other.” He realises he has actually written a '3' in the place of the last digit, which he can no longer recall. “Shit.” Tapping over each section of the equation, he tries to work it out.

The music does not stop. Hermann needs to get out. If the sensors and his calculations are correct, there is a statistically negligible chance of kaiju attack today; he will go to the waterfront, which should be deserted. He pulls on his jacket, reassuringly over-large, and storms out.

At the lift he turns, expecting to find Newt snuck up behind him, but he is alone.

There is nothing to see at the waterfront aside from a few sickeningly large cargo ships to the north-east. Hermann eyes them, determines they will come no closer, then informs himself that everything would most likely still be relatively alright, regardless. He knows he is not good at comforting. In his mind, Newton tries to impersonate a boat, blusteringly threatening to mow him down. Hermann bites back a grin and swats him away, but the motion of his hand before his face only reinforces the image. Hunched into himself, he imagines Newt draping an arm around his shoulders, drawing in him into a reassuring embrace. In such a position Hermann could turn his head just a fraction, satisfy his and the world’s mutual distaste for each other by ignoring it in favour of Newt’s collar. He inhales the musk-and-chemicals scent of him.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell were you, Hermann?”

Newton’s voice simultaneously winds him up and stabilises him. Irritation has never been more comfortable, so he slips easily into his role.

“Sometimes I need time with someone who can think rationally.”

He has used this line before, and it almost always serves its purpose. Now, though, neither of them are satisfied. He continues, but does not even get through a whole sentence before Newt interrupts, and then they are arguing.

“You know I need peace sometimes to deal with everything, a noisy environment has- ”

“I am literally in the middle of having a breakthrough, Herms, and I needed- ”

“- always been difficult to work in. Surely you don’t need your music at such-”

“- to talk through it with you because I thought we were colleagues and I turn away for a second and you and your dumb jacket have vanished! I don’t even know- ”

“- volume, if you refuse to work in silence. I have every right to- ”

“- how you move so quick and quiet with your - oh shit I am sorry; sorry, Herms! I swear I’ll- ”

“- leave when I wish, and I would prefer it if you hadn’t claimed -”

“- get better at this, I’ve just been really distracted for a couple of days and I am trying to focus but I-”

“- my coat. All I could smell was you and it’s terribly difficult to-”

“- need you here for that so if you would just pretend to not hate me for, like, half an hour, it will be so-”

“- think straight when all my brain will give me is Newton Newton Newton, how could you ever-”

“- much better and then I can do anything you need to get your stuff done-”

“- think I hate you? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hermann stops to take a breath, belatedly realising Newton stopped talking some seconds ago and is now staring at him.

“What?” he snaps.

“No, that, see? You hate me.”

“Newton, I have never hated you. You know I am not good with people. Any people. Yourself included. I didn’t realise you took it so personally.”

“Because it is personal! You’re not mean to Pentecost-”

“He is our boss, so obviously I go to an effort to-”

“Or Mako!”

“We’ve known Miss Mori since she was small, of course I’ll be - and she’s the Marshall’s daughter, which brings us back to my first response.”

Newt hesitantly steps closer, crossing the line into Hermann’s space.

“You’re no nicer to me than to the jaeger welders.”

This is becoming painful. “I could never work beside any of them for years on end.”

“So…”

“I could smell you on my jacket,” he hisses desperately. Somehow, Newt understands.

“God, Herms.”

It seems that Newton covers the space between them in an instant, one hand fisting in the front of his jacket, the other cradling his skull. Lips crush against his own, and then they are invading each other’s mouth hungrily. Newt pulls away with a gasp of an inhale. His hands stay where they are.

“This is - yes, yeah?”

Hermann brings his own hands up, finds his fingers rubbing nervously over Yamarashi and Atticon.

“Yes. Yes, I mean, if you want to-”

“Hot damn, Herm. Of course I want to. Yeah. Definitely. Hell yes.” Newt steps back, tugging on Hermann’s jacket like he needs to be convinced to follow. He is pushed, only a little roughly, into one of their mismatched chairs, and Newts drops to his knees.

“Hermann,” he says, almost reverently. “Hermann. I wanna suck you off. Can - can I-” he reaches for Hermann’s belt, and Hermann’s brain shorts out.  Newt-fellating-him fantasies have had a tendency to coincide with inexplicably-fixed-body fantasies, and this, he is very aware, is quite real.

“Her- Herms? kksshh, Earth to Doctor Gottlieb, are you there, kksshh.” Newt’s hand, still hovering by Hermann’s belt buckle, drops to rest against his hip.

“I am here. Please refrain from putting on any voices sillier than your usual while we are having sex.”

“Okay, cool. I mean, alright, we are doing this then. Awesome.” He sets to work on Hermann’s clothes. “You gotta say yes, Herms.”

“I thought… I thought it was pretty clear.”

“Nuh-uh. Consent is sexy, dude. Sexiest thing in the world. Closely followed by yourself, of course. Oh my God, stop, leave your dumb jacket on.” As he holds Hermann he makes a noise in the back of his throat before swallowing him down. Hermann yelps. Newt is clearly practiced, and ‘enthusiastic’ is too pale a word to describe him. He shakily threads fingers into Newton’s messy hair, but when Newt pulls back enough to dance his tongue around the head and Hermann unconsciously clenches his hand and tugs, he immediately hisses, removes his hand, and apologises.

“Nn,” Newt hums, staring wide-eyed over his glasses as he guides Hermann’s hand back, curling their fingers in his hair and making Hermann pull. He keeps it there when Newt undoes his own jeans, and gingerly tugs again. Newt closes his eyes in satisfaction.

“Ah, Newt, you degenerate.” Fondly he runs his other hand over Newt’s neck and shoulder, who moves back.

“Dude,” he says breathlessly, hand still lazily stroking himself, “if you can still use four-syllable insults, I mustn't be doing very well.”

“On the contrary,” Hermann assures him. Newt chuckles and returns to his task. “I would - I would have you in my quarters tonight, Newton.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the afternoon passes more smoothly than Hermann had thought possible - that is, they continue arguing much as they have for seven years. Newt is horrified to find out where Hermann had been, so close to his predicted next attack, and Hermann cannot accept Newt’s new theory. Only the heated glances they share mark any difference from before.

As the day ticks over towards evening, Newt becomes more and more restless.

“Geiszler,” Hermann finally declares. “Get out. You’re disturbing my work, and not doing any of your own, either.”

“You’ve been watching me, Herms?” He cocks a hand on his hip and sways seductively.

“You know I have,” Hermann shoots back. “Go; eat, bathe. Come to my room at nine.” He turns back to his chalkboards, but then there is a warmth at his back, hands on his waist and lips at his neck.

“That’s like, almost four hours away, Herms, honey. I want - I mean - You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you? I can’t wait that long.” Hermann feels his cheeks heat.

“Newton! We are at work.”

“Yeah, and it’s getting boring. I liked it better when you were coming down my throat while we were ‘at work’.”

“Oh Gott. Get out.”

“Okay, grumpyguts.” Hermann receives a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

When Hermann returns to his room at seven, Newt is sitting on the steps up to his door, playing on his tablet. He pointedly ignores him as he unlocks the door, but nevertheless does not deny him entry. As soon as Newt closes the door Hermann crowds him against the wall.

“I said nine,” he accuses.

“Yeah ’nd I said that’s too long to wait.”

They attack each other’s mouths again, and this time Newt begins unbuttoning Hermann’s shirt. He returns the favour.

“Oh. You had the chest piece coloured.”

“Yeah. Yeah, dude, that was ages a- is that… okay? it’s not gonna, like, put you off, is it? If you want, I could keep my shirt on.”

“Certainly not,” he replies vehemently. “Take it off.” Newt obliges, fussing with the cuffs, and Hermann huffs, “If I had a problem with your tattoos we would be in trouble.”

“You do have a problem with my tatts. You tell me so practically every week.”

“Well. I can’t say I like them, independently. But they are part of you.”

In response, Newt begins to suck a mark onto his collarbone. “I never realised you liked me so much,” he says after a while, pushing Hermann’s shirt off onto the floor.

“Yes, your ignorance will kill us all one day,” Hermann deadpans.

Eventually - finally - they set to work on each other’s trousers. Newt trembles in his grasp. Earlier in the day, Newt had been more than happy to finish himself off kneeling between Hermann’s legs, but now Hermann wants to be responsible for those strangled whimpers and gasps he had heard while he caught his breath.

“Please, Herms,”

“You should be naked on my bed,” he rasps. This is apparently a good suggestion, as Newt hurries to oblige. Opting to keep his own trousers on, the better to hide his thigh, he finds his lubricant and sits beside Newt, who leans in again to kiss him.

“Your stupid mouth is fantastic,” he murmurs, and Hermann snorts.

“Would you… on your knees,” is all he can manage, but Newt shivers and leans into him for a second.

“Did you, like, look inside my head to know what I want, God, Herm.”

He arranges himself on Hermann’s bed, sitting back on his heels with his knees spread, then tipping forward to clutch pillows under his head and chest. Hermann runs a single finger up the outside of Newt’s thigh, taking a circuitous course over his buttock to tease him.

“Herms, please.”

Surprised by the sudden desperation in Newt’s voice, Hermann actually jerks away a little from Newt. He hurries to return his hand to Newt’s skin, intrigued to see his thighs twitch at the light touch.

“Calm down, Newton.”

“Calm - are you kidding me? Hermann Gottlieb, patron saint of sexy grumpy bastards, is gonna fuck me. I am so fucking into this, Hermie, you have no idea.”

He thinks he rather does, actually, when he realises how long he’s been picturing precisely this, when he pulls himself off in the shower or under his blankets. After a moment of stillness, Newt is babbling.

“P - please, Herms, Hermann, Doctor Gottlieb, please, touch me, please, I made sure I was clean for you - please, Herms-”

“Stop that,” Hermann snaps, then curses himself for rudeness. “You don’t need to beg and beg. Talk intelligently, if you can.” He reclines carefully behind Newt, propped up on an elbow.

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that. I would like, Hermie, if you could touch me. You know, properly. Prepare me. Please.”

His final word is not the desperate plea it was a minute ago, but now a concession to politeness. Hermann smirks and leans in, nosing against his perineum.

“Jesus Christ, Herms! Okay.”

“Consent is sexy,” he smirks, and sets gently to work dismantling his coworker. True to his word, Newt’s skin tastes like nothing much but a faint hint of soap. He is as responsive as anyone Hermann has slept with and surges back against his tongue when he pushes into the puckered hole.

A litany of curses, praises, and suggestions wash over him as he licks, kisses, and presses against and around Newt’s arse. There’s a noise that seems to catch in his throat whenever Hermann thrusts in which is particularly satisfying to hear. He’s achingly hard inside his pants and while his leg feels alright now, he knows that can quickly change. It’s the work of a moment to remove his clothes and rearrange them both so Newt straddles his torso as he sits back, letting him reach around to stretch him carefully open.

When Newton bats his hand away and sinks down onto him, his head jerks back and hits the wall at the head of his bunk.

“Ho-o-oly shit, Hermann,” Newt gasps. “You’re amazing, you’re so good, you’re - you’re - you’re good, yeah?” His hand moves back and ghosts over Hermann’s leg, cradled by pillows, and at this tender gesture Hermann’s heart squeezes.

“Yes, yes of course, now hush.” Gripping Newton’s hips, he pulls down and grinds up into him. He finds him unusually pliant and tips him back a little, knowing he’s found the right angle when Newt shudders and clutches at him. They still for a moment, Hermann watching Newt, who is staring through the wall.

“Move,” he says, trying to instill authority in his voice. Newton blinks hazily.

“What?”

“Move, Geiszler. Ride me.”

The pace he sets is brutal, and neither of them can stay silent with that intensity.

“Y’know,” Newton manages around grunts and whines. “I way preferred it when you - called me Newt.”

“Ididnothingofthekind.”

“Yeah you did.” He changes pace, slower but no less desperate. “Are you close? You did, when I was sucking you. You pulled my hair and I liked it, I like that, Herms, and you called me Newt.”

“I called you... a degenerate. You are. You want me to pull your hair and call you names and manhandle you and probably spank you, for crying out loud.”

An unabashed grin greets him when he looks up into Newt’s face, and he’s aware of Newt’s hand flying on his cock.

“If you want. Whatever gets you off. You liked it this afternoon. Oh! I’m there, yep, I’m - God, Hermann - Herm!” His hand stops entirely and Hermann watches as Newt spills over his stomach and chest. He is still riding out the aftershocks, clenching around Hermann’s cock, when he runs his fingertips through his own come, rubbing it into Hermann’s skin, pushing it over and around and around his nipples.

“Newt, what are you-”

Newton makes a happy little sound and hunches down to lick and suck his chest clean. Hermann is coming before he realises why Newt is so pleased.

Chapter Text

They lay, side by side, on Hermann’s bunk. He should move, he knows; he should get a cloth to wipe himself and he should take his pills and he really needs to reposition himself before his leg cramps and - his stomach rumbles - he should eat. Newt giggles quietly, pokes him in the belly, and sits up.

“Okay, hang on, I’ll go get something from the mess hall and bring it up for you.”

Hermann tips his head slightly to the side and back.

“I don’t need you to do that. I’ve never needed you to do that.”

“Yeah, but I want to? Like, now we’re boyf- um. Well - if you want? I mean. It’s up to you. Anyway, that was amazing and I owe you, seriously, and I know your leg aches at the end of the day - I’m a biologist, Herms, I know how stuff works, and I’m going to the mess hall for food and I could bring you back something, if you like.”

“Do what you will. You always do.”

He jumps up from the bed and closes himself in Hermann’s tiny ensuite for a few minutes. When he emerges, he picks through their clothes on the floor and dresses hurriedly.

“That’s my shirt, you imbecile,” Hermann mutters as Newt fusses with buttons.

“Eh, it’s alright.” He does up the fly on his jeans and forgoes socks before he tugs on his shoes. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Very well.” He closes his eyes. A dip in the mattress and a blocking of the light warns him before Newt kisses him chastely. Then he is gone.

Now we’re boyfriends, his mind echoes at him in Newt’s voice. He has not been anyone’s boyfriend since well before Trespasser - somehow the idea of being boyfriends with Newt blindsides him. Making his way to the shower, he sits on the stool and rinses away sweat and come. He is dressed in his pyjamas and robe by the time Newton knocks on his door.

“Herms! Let me in, sexy.”

Opening the door as little as possible, he takes the tray of food from Newt, who is grinning at him.

“Thank you, Newton. Goodnight.” It is impossible to close shatterdome doors gently when one is holding a cane in one hand and a tray in the other.

When he wakes to the Kaiju alarm at 5:37 the following morning, he suspects he may have managed three hours sleep. Codename Mutavore is heading for Sydney, and the Hansens are on standby. His leg complains as if he did not rest it at all overnight as he rushes to K-Science. They are running out of time, and this new data should help corroborate his predictions. Unsurprisingly, Newt is shoving his things around his half of the lab, shouting instructions at a phone wedged between ear and shoulder.

“Kidney, definitely, I need kidney, alright? At least a complete half. And please please please hindbrain - I know Onibaba didn’t have one, but all the rest did, as far as I can tell. My God! Frontal lobe, then, as much as you can. I don’t care if the carcass ends up in the harbour. I don’t care if it’s halfway to New Zealand! I saw claws, too, can I have one of those? Right, screw you too, mate! Can I get anything at all? Look. Kidney. Hindbrain or frontal lobe of forebrain, your choice. And then whatever else you feel like preserving for me. Fine. Fine. See you this afternoon.” He doesn’t throw the phone, but he does appear quite close to crushing it when he shoves it into his pocket. Hermann does not draw him into an embrace to soothe him, or indeed touch him at all.

“Hercules and Charles should be in Striker already: why bother waiting? That-” he flaps a hand at the live footage as he turns on his computers, “will breach the stupid fucking waste-of-resources Wall soon. Even if it’s not soon, it won’t tire, it won’t give up.”

“Right, so we are talking?”

“What?”

“I mean, I just figured we weren’t talking, given that last night you-”

“Now is not the time, Geiszler.”

He receives a scowl, but Newton does stop grumbling audibly as he shifts previous experiments.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the footage?” Hermann asks, as gently as he can. “You could make space while the organs are being flown here.”

“I wonder if there’s an old training PONS I could borrow,” Newt muses instead of replying.

“Wha - no, Newton, you have had many terrible ideas in the past but trying to drift with a kaiju is literally the worst one I’ve heard.” Hermann felt obliged to observe a therapy session of one of the early volunteers for drift testing. Thinking about Newt’s vibrant mind reduced like that turns his stomach.

“Second worst, obviously.”

“By all means, tell me what could possibly be stupider than that.”

Newt gapes at him. “Seriously? You’re gonna ask me that, like, like it didn’t even happen?” He gestures between them. “It was super dumb of me, okay, I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Marshall Pentecost seems to agree with Hermann’s opinion of Newton’s idea, although clearly without the same desperation.

"It’s not going to work" he spits out, burying fear under venom. "They won’t give you the equipment and even if they did, you’d kill yourself."

After he storms out, he stumbles into his room, strips out of his clothes, lays down and does not sleep.

Eight a.m. is early to arrive for work, although they had done away with a rigid 9-5 workday years ago, and he has several valid reasons to do so prepared in case anyone questioned him.

He flickers between shocked and unsurprised horror when he sees Newt convulsing on the floor of their lab.

“Newton! Newton.”

Then he is on the floor with him, trembling. "Newton! What have you done?" He wrenches the thrice-damned PONS away.

Newt radios in for his junk PONS to be brought to his location, and Hermann bullies his way into 'supervising' the move of the equipment. The tech crew humour him a little too much, and he wonders exactly how transparent he is being. He is rewarded with a bright, if somewhat manic, grin when he offers to assist his coworker (friend) with drifting with the foetal kaiju. "It's Otachibi", Newt insists, to which Hermann can only roll his eyes.

They've both done enough research on drifting to avoid RABITs, although Hermann flickers briefly when he can see himself underneath himself, framed by his tattooed thighs, commanding and beautiful. Then the alien knowledge starts beating into him. He and Newt stutter at each other a little before racing back to the Shatterdome.

The cost is high but the revised plan works. He lets himself touch Newt briefly, patting his shoulder before hanging onto Tendo. When Hercules - Marshall Hansen stops the clock, he gravitates awkwardly to Newt again, helplessly smiling when he slings an arm around him. The initial cheer dies down and Hermann feels Newt sag into him a little. People disperse from LOCCENT, presumably to begin celebrations, and with little else to do, they follow the crowd to the lifts. Newton presses against him a little more as they wait, and Hermann realises he could not possibly slept more than snatches of naps in the last 50 hours or so. He wonders if he slept as poorly as himself three nights ago as well, and pushes the button for the elevator to stop at the residential floor on its way to the mess hall.

"Herms, baby, you're such an old man. Come celebrate with me. And everyone."

"Certainly not. I am going to try and get some sleep, as are you."

"Naw, man, we saved the fucking world; I wanna relax without worrying about tomorrow."

He catches Hermann's eye then, and they both stare a second too long.

"Come on, Hermie," Newt pleads.

The lift pulls to a stop, and Hermann decides to throw caution to the wind. "I had rather a different plan to celebrate," he says coolly, easing between people to exit the lift. "You should go to bed."

Newt goggles at him, then jostles his way out just as the doors begin to close, to the disgruntlement of their coworkers.

"You better not be fucking with me, Herms," he gasps when they are alone.

"I really do expect you to sleep, Newton," he begins, and Newt's whole body slumps a little. "But I would like very much if you would do it in my room. With me. And I promise you we can celebrate saving the world any way you wish when we wake up."

"Oh my god, you little shit! After you kick me out like that the other night you expect me to come trailing after you like a-”

"Newton, no -”

“a fucking puppy? You saw how I felt in the drift, didn't you, and now-”

“Newt. Newt, no-”

“you're going to lead me around like affection is a carrot on the end of a fucking stick?"

“No, it's not- it isn't like that. Newt! I want to apologise.”

“For leading me on?”

“For kicking you out. I shouldn’t have done that; I was scared and stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Herms? You’re not afraid of anything!”

“Ships,” he can’t help but point out drily.

“Shut up, Hermann, you know what I mean.”

“Newton. My affection for you has no ulterior motive. I was wrong to treat you like I did. Now let’s please get some sleep.”

Newt slips his hand into Hermann’s and squeezes it.

“And then sex?” His eyes shine.

Hermann rolls his eyes and huffs. He grips Newt’s shoulder and kisses his forehead.

“And then sex.”

Chapter Text

They peel off filthy clothes. Newt looks down at himself.

"Uh, I might- if you don't mind, I'll borrow your shower? I promise not to fall asleep in your sweet shower-chair."

"By all means." He lays himself down pressed against the wall of his bunk, to make space for Newton. Almost immediately he slips into a light doze, rousing only when Newton climbs on top of him.

"Is there not room for you on the mattress?" he asks caustically.

"Not relevant. You like me, Herms; there's no way I'm not gonna make out with you a bit."

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Hermann grumbles, but then Newton's lips are caressing his own and he cannot bring himself to stop him.

As pleasant as soft kisses are, they cannot deny sleep for long. On a small bunk, there is no choice but to embrace each other, and after the events of the last few days, Hermann would not have it any other way. When he wakes, it is afternoon, and he occupies himself by stroking Newt's arm as softly as he can - from shoulder to wrist and back again. Newton shivers.

"That tickles, Hermie," he mumbles.

"You should still be asleep," Hermann chides in response. Newt twists to look at a clock.

"Nah, man, four hours is pretty sweet. Anyway, don't wanna fuck up my sleep tonight." With that, he sits up and strokes Hermann's hip.

"D'you wanna fuck me again?"

Although he has been considering little else for the last half-hour (two days) (four years), Hermann pretends to ponder the question.

"Do you… only bottom?" he asks eventually, and looks at Newt in time to see his pupils dilate.

"N-no, no, man, I am versatile as shit. Are you - God, Herms. Please tell me you want me inside you."

"Of course I want that, Newton."

He is kissed and kissed until they are both breathless.

"Where do I find your lube, hon? Top drawer here?"

Hermann nods silently.

"Okay cool, you just relax, lemme take care of everything. How's that sound?"

"Lovely," he manages through an unreasonably tight throat.

"How's best for you? On your back?"

“As long as my leg is supported, yes.” Newton nods and slips his hands around Hermann’s thigh, bending his leg up and kissing his knee.

“Please don’t kick me out again, Herms, but…” he trails off and pulls down Hermann’s underwear.

“What?”

“This time, please can this mean we’re boyfriends now?”

“Newton -Newt, that's a terribly childish term... But yes, I rather think it applies." He twitches his fingers at Newt's underwear, and they are thrown off so that when Newt blankets him with his own body, they rub together from head to toe.

"Gonna make this so good for you, Hermie," Newt promises. He litters his torso with kisses, lingering at Hermann's hip.

"Bend your legs up, Herm." Again he holds and gently lifts his thighs, paying no more or less attention to one or the other.

"You can ask," Hermann ventures. Only then does Newt stroke fingertips along a puckered surgical scar.

"Oh my god, I am so going to hold you to that, but, like, some other time, yeah? Holy shit, man, I want to know everything about you."

He's not fully erect - neither of them are - but his penis twitches encouragingly at this. Newt looks at it fondly and pets his stomach.

"Suck you off a bit while I prepare you?" he offers. Receiving a nod in response, he mouths hot and damp around the head of Hermann’s cock. In the same overwhelming moment slick, blunt fingers nudge against his hole.

It’s practically all Hermann can do to keep breathing, gasping lungfuls of air and releasing them raggedly.

It is quiet. He thinks of Newt talking: a moment ago, three days ago, every minute of his life since he was two. He thinks of Newt's reaction when he had accused him of wanting to be called names.

"I must say," he forces out, fingers twisting tighter in the sheets. "I find this use for your mouth far superior to forcing me to listen to constant inane babble."

"Fuuuck," Newt breathes into the protruding bone of his hip, and slips a fingertip inside him. Carding his fingers through Newt's hair, he pulls his head back a little so they can look at each other. Newton smiles in encouragement, and swallows him down.

"It's- it's pitiful really, that you become this aroused just from a few words," he continues. His own arousal is rocketing, and the finger inside him pumps it gently higher.

"You probably even talk to yourself when you're alone, don't you; pretend I'm doing all sorts of filthy things to y- God, Newt!" He interrupts himself when one finger becomes two and they search out his prostate. Newton is undoubtedly pleased with the hair-pulling it incites. Hermann gives himself a moment to recover, although his lover does not. "Always interrupting me, even when you can't talk. So rude. I wonder if you would let me have a moment's peace if I tied you down." There is a jerky motion as Newt pulls back off Hermann's cock.

"You can't say shit like that!"

Hermann's blood runs cold.

"Sorry, I don't... I'm not practiced at this sort of thing, I don't know what is good or n-"

“No, shut up, stop,” Newt smiles. "You can't say shit like that if you want me to last more than, like, twenty seconds.” He traces the rim of Hermann's anus. "How about a third, now?"

"Please."

"Keep talking, yeah, Herms? Tell me what you'd do when you tie me up."

"I... I don't honestly know if I really would be into bondage," he admits. Bearing down a little and breathing deeply, his body begins to accept the additional digit.

"That's fine. But if you wanna talk about it, like, hypothetically, that would be so incredibly hot. You're an actual undercover sex god, aren't you? You keep some nice little kinky secrets in your stuffy outfits."

"The more you talk, the more appealing the idea is," he snaps, but strokes Newt's brow at the same time. "Perhaps once I had you agreeably restrained I could..." He sighs and gives up. "I don't know. This requires negotiation that I am happy to have, but I would prefer we put it off at least until after you fuck me."

Newt nods slowly.

"Yes, please. Can I, now?"

"You had better."

Another nod, this time accompanied by a smirk. With a final caress, he removes his fingers from inside Hermann and manipulates him into place. It's a little arduous to achieve a comfortable position with satisfactory penetration and both of Newton's hands are employed supporting him, but he is shockingly patient.

"There's only one problem with this, really," he says conversationally as he undulates his hips. He drums his fingers rhythmically on Hermann's bad thigh and other hip.

"What?"

"Can't kiss you like this, not if your leg won't like it." Newt is kneeling, sitting on his own feet, supporting Hermann’s lower back on his thighs. One of Hermann’s legs is raised up to Newt’s shoulder, while the other is cradled at his side.

"Unacceptable," he quips. “Shut up and get on with it, and you can kiss me after.”

Biting his lip, Newt drives into him with more force. Throwing one arm out to protect himself from rocking into the wall by his bed, Hermann reaches up to pull Newt’s lip from between his teeth. His fingers are caught instead, licked and kissed.

"Yes- get my hand properly wet," he orders - or begs, he's not entirely sure. Of course Newt complies, so when he drops his hand to his straining cock, it slips with an agreeable lack of friction. The slide of Newt's saliva adds to the fullness inside him and he says something. He suspects his gasps have devolved into sobs. Then everything tightens and intensifies within him and he grunts as he comes.

"Fuck," he hears Newt exclaim. "Fuck. Is that good, Herm? Fuck, you're gorgeous like this. God, I can still feel you coming." He uses his hand on Hermann's hip for extra leverage to thrust into him rapidly. When he comes in Hermann, he turns his head to pant an open-mouthed kiss against his ankle. Hermann shivers, satisfied.

After Newt, softening, pulls out of him, he carefully lowers Hermann’s legs to the mattress, and sits by his knees, but Hermann reaches to pull him closer. Later, they can shower and make their way to the mess hall for dinner. At some point they will need to write their final reports and clear the lab. After that, he suspects they will be dismissed with impressive rewards in their bank accounts, and they can argue about where to live. Hermann trusts that living together will be one thing they agree on.

But that can wait. Right now he wants Newt to kiss him again, at length.