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Pacific Rim Ficlets (M)


Spoo

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I don't know how many of you have seen the new Pacific Rim: Uprising movie, but LET ME TELL YOU: I was very unhappy. :lol: Like, it was a good film? But there were quite a few disappointments... I won't spoil anything, but a large chunk of my displeasure involves Newt, so I'm writing short ficlets to help me cope during this difficult time. :nosad:

Pretty much all of these prompts will be set around the first Pacific Rim movie (pre-apocalypse). Enjoy, my dudes! :D 

jsgl6e.gif

(p.s., If you guys want to hear what Charlie Day's sneeze sounds like, refer to this lovely thread here. ;))

- - - 

 

Unspoken

 

In his time of knowing Newton—and what a long, trying ten years it had been—Hermann was fairly unsurprised when it came to witnessing the other man participating in most unusual behavior. It was part of Newton’s “rockstar” (or what have you) personality, and there was simply no helping it. In fact, Newton was quite beyond help (both from Hermann himself and a trained professional).

When Hermann came across the fellow K-Scientist standing in the center of their shared workspace, head tilted back and mouth dropped open, he attributed it to just another ‘Newton thing’. It was why Hermann ignored the spectacle beyond an initial acknowledgment and limped to his side of the room. Tempted as he was to scold Newton for wasting precious time when they did not have a moment to lose, he did not fancy initiating another argument. They’d been quarreling more than enough as of late, and one more squabble seemed much too exhausting to add to the ever-growing pile.

Hermann settled his glasses atop the bridge of his nose and accessed a holo screen that appeared in front of him; he was intent to try a new equation he’d spent the better part of the morning solving. Much as he detested relying on anything other than numbers and proven facts, he truly felt as though he were close to a breakthrough. So long as he continued working diligently, he was certain that he’d—

“Nnh...come on.”

Ignore him, Hermann told himself stiffly, relaxing his narrow shoulders when they automatically tensed. He resumed typing—perhaps a little faster and harder than absolutely necessary—though took yet another pause when Newton insisted on speaking again.

“Why won’t this—?? Just COME. OUT. already.”

Peculiar as the words were, Hermann refused to take the bait. He was better than this. Older. Mature. Completely and entirely in control of his every physical and cognitive—

“...hihh! ...aughhh, are you kidding me?!”

SLAM!

Hermann’s hand came down hard on the table as he turned and practically snarled: “What on Earth is wrong with you?!”

Newt hadn’t so much as flinched at the outburst; he remained precisely as Hermann had found him, with the exception of his eyes squinting behind the lenses of his glasses. Newton’s breathing appeared somewhat erratic now that Hermann was paying closer attention to it, as though Newton recently returned from a run. Breaths skipped around in his chest, rising and falling before settling back into a quieter, steadier rhythm. It was...rather confusing, honestly.

Without looking at Hermann, Newt responded. “I’ve needed to sneeze, like, all morning. It’s not coming out, and it’s drivihhhng me crazy.” In a display of blatant frustration, Newt finally lowered his head and scrubbed harsh circles into the palm of his hand with his nose. “It’s RIGHT there, dude. Seriously.”

A sneeze. Newton was postponing not only his own work, but Hermann’s work as well because he had to sneeze and could not manage to do so. The only pity Hermann felt in that moment was the one that came from not being able to reach Newt should he have thrown his cane at him.

“Then kindly accept your misfortune and carry on,” he huffed irritably.

“What, so I can sneeze all over my specimens when it actually does happen? Y’know, for being the second smartest guy in the room I’m reaaaally starting to question your IQ, Herms.” When he looked up again, Hermann could see that Newton’s green eyes were damp at the corners. A product of his nasal distress, no doubt. “I’m not doing anything until thiiihh—! …h-happens. Damnit.

Newton didn’t have to specify why he was choosing to wait. Being lab partners (and colleagues for many years before that) meant that they were familiar with one another’s mannerisms and ways of doing things. Namely, Newton’s inability to sneeze once and only once. Newton had compared it to a ‘production’ at one point, and Hermann understood why. Sometimes it would be two sneezes, sometimes three, and sometimes Newton wouldn’t be able to stop. Hermann recalled a day not too far back in particular when he’d found Newton just outside of the lab, his gloved hands stained Kaiju blue, while sneeze after sneeze kept him bent over and burrowed in his elbow.

Thus, Hermann saw the logic in waiting until the event passed before Newton attempted to be productive (which meant that he, too, would have to wait). Exhaling impatiently, Hermann removed his glasses and let them return to hanging around his neck. A solution had already developed and he decided to voice it aloud.

“Look at a light.”

“A light?” Newton echoed, clearly confused. “Uhhh, maybe you haven’t noticed, Hermann, but we’re kind of in a lab. I know you plug yourself into the wall every night like a good robot, so maybe you don’t know that it’s been raining for three days in a row outside.”

Of all the moronic, imbecilic—

“Not sunlight, you fool. A light. Any bright source of luminescence ought to sort your dilemma.”

Newt sniffed. “Did you get a degree in sneezing when I wasn’t looking, orrrr...?”

“Oh, for God’s sake! A bright light will provide a conducive stimulus that will not only induce a sneeze and grant you relief, but also put an end to this rrrridiculous ordeal.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Newt challenged, rubbing his nose again. It was starting to turn red from all of the forceful attention.

“It will work. I assure you,” Hermann said.

He watched as Newt stepped towards one of the examination tables and retrieved the headlamp he often adorned when dissecting kaiju innards. Turning it on, he held it up so that the a stream of light shown directly into his eyes. The response was no less satisfying than the stroke Hermann’s ego received.

Hhh’RZSCHHhh’ohhhGod. Finally.” The sneeze-turned-words-of-relief was short lived, however, when another sneeze forced Newt to abandon the headlamp and take refuge in his elbow. “RHZSCHHHhh’uh!

“A ‘thank you’ would not go amiss when you are less preoccupied,” Hermann noted dryly.

“Neither would a—hhh’RGHZSCHHhh’ah!—‘bless you’,” Newt managed, prior to sneezing again. “Hihhh’RZSCHHHhhsch!

“I do believe that I have offered more than a fair share of participation already,” Hermann dismissed.

Newton did not answer, and when Hermann dared another direct glance he discovered why. The biologist was teetering on the precipice of another sneeze—the last one, by the look of it—and directing all of his effort and concentration on its fruition. It came, sure enough, with all the grand theatrics and embellishments that Dr. Newton Geiszler was comprised of.

Hhh’RHGZCHHHhh’ue!

Hermann did not think the lewd moan that followed was neither necessary or appropriate, but it happened regardless. Looking away from the boneless slump Newton had become across the table, Hermann adorned his glasses once more and picked up where he left off. Or, well. He tried to.

“…how did you know bright lights make me sneeze?”

“Do not flatter yourself, Newton. It's common knowledge that you have obviously failed to come across in your obsession with giant beasts.”

In truth, Hermann hadn’t the time or patience to explain what he had noticed—or rather, what Newton had NOT noticed whenever they ventured out into a sunny day, or during their routine physical and eye examinations. Some things, Hermann thought privately, were better left unspoken.

 

END.

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I have yet to see these movies, although they are on my short list. As in possibly this week... I have been a huge fan of Burn Gorman since Torchwood, and in the trailer for the movie he is in the clip for like a microsecond and I was like, OMG Burn! LOL. Hence the need to see the movies. This however has solidified that need as you make these characters sound fantastic. I love their interactions. I'm totally drawn in!

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8 hours ago, AngelEyes said:

I have yet to see these movies, although they are on my short list. As in possibly this week... I have been a huge fan of Burn Gorman since Torchwood, and in the trailer for the movie he is in the clip for like a microsecond and I was like, OMG Burn! LOL. Hence the need to see the movies. This however has solidified that need as you make these characters sound fantastic. I love their interactions. I'm totally drawn in!

YES!! Please, please watch them. They’re sooooo good, and I know you’ll love the characters. Thank you for reading, though, even if you’re not familiar with them...yet. ;) 

 

@castiel_angel Thank you!! I thought it was pretty funny myself. :lol:

 

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... And, as usual, I don't know anything about the characters you're playing with here, but I do love your writing so much!!! And the in addition to being quite funny, this is one of my favorite sneezing scenarios... 

On 18/04/2018 at 9:58 PM, Spoo said:

In truth, Hermann hadn’t the time or patience to explain what he had noticed—or rather, what Newton had NOT noticed whenever they ventured out into a sunny day, or during their routine physical and eye examinations. Some things, Hermann thought privately, were better left unspoken.

So true!!! :sweatdrop:

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@Aliena H. Thank you!! I really recommend watching Pacific Rim. I have a strong feeling you would enjoy the film. :D Plus, the characters are great!

 

Alrighty, friends. I'm still head over feels into Pacific Rim right now, which explains why I've turned this thread into a ficlet hub instead of a solitary piece. This next piece was a request I received over on tumblr, which asked for an allergic!Newt. Even if you haven't seen the movie or know who the characters are, I hope it's still enjoyable for all of you allergy lovers out there. ;) This ficlet is set after the events of this drabble, but it can also be read on its own as well. :yes: 

Enjoy! :D  

- - - 

Breathe

 

In spite of blowing his nose several times after he’d been given Hermann’s handkerchief, Newton’s allergies did not improve throughout the course of the afternoon. It seemed that his symptoms were far too exacerbated to pacify, which explained why, eventually, the afflicted man was forced to abandon his work for the time being. There was no progress to be made, Hermann supposed, when one could not stop sneezing.

Newton had excused himself, and when he didn’t return twenty minutes later Hermann felt it necessary to make sure that his lab partner hadn’t somehow hurt himself. Hobbling into the corridor, he searched the length of the hall to see if Newton was in the nearby vicinity. There were a few J-technicians and some other personnel walking by, but aside from that there didn’t seem to be anyone else. It wasn’t until Hermann reached the end of the corridor that he found—or rather, that Hermann heard Newton.

It appeared that the biologist had utilized one of the Shatterdome’s inner stairwells, rather than seek a more private location. Honestly, why Newton didn’t just report to Medical was beyond Hermann, but he assumed there was scant room for rationality when one was trapped in the midst of an aggressive, ongoing allergy attack.

“Newton,” Hermann said, watching as his colleague turned to look at him over his shoulder. The lighting was poor in the stairwell, but Hermann could see that Newt’s eyes were nothing more than swollen, leaking squints.

“Oh hhhhey, Herms,” he replied, prior to disappearing into an upraised elbow. “Hihh’RZSCHHhhish!—RHGZSCHHhhue!

Clearly, the sneezing hadn’t worn off. In fact, Hermann almost wanted to say that it was much, much worse now. “Must you insist on continuing to endure this?” he queried. “You are aware of the existence of antihistamines, are you not?”

“Dude, I’m too far gone for—hihhhhh...” Newt shook his head, trailing off into a slow inhale that filled his chest before he broke off and sneezed fiercely again. “Ahh’RZSCHHHhh’uh!

Too far gone indeed, thought Hermann, shaking his head at the spectacle.

Finally granted temporary reprieve from the fit, Newt snuffled and lowered his arm away from his face; he removed his glasses, wet and streaked as the lenses were, and rubbed his eyes.

“Just—snf! Have to ride it out at this point,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut against another screen of tears. His eyelashes were damp in the aftermath, heavy and saturated as they brushed against his cheekbones with every itchy, leaky blink.

As much as Newton annoyed him and drove him mad on a daily basis, Hermann felt a genuine pang of actual sympathy for him. Had he not already offered Newton his handkerchief earlier—the handkerchief, he noticed, that was hanging out of Newton’s back pocket like a flag—he would have done so again.

Hermann was about to suggest that the stubborn fool report to Medical once more, but that was before Newton suddenly, and clumsily, pocketed his glasses and guided both of his hands to hover in front of his face.

Ihh—incoming...!” It was a warning, if anything, for in the next instant Newton was collapsing forward into the steeple his fingers had formed in front of his nose. “Hhh’RHGZSCHH—GHSCHH!—rghh’GZSCHHhh!—hh’GDSCHHhh—ihh’rrRHHhzschh’ue!

Hermann took a step back, horrified. “Newton—”

But the sneezes continued, tripping and tumbling and skipping over each other until Newt was practically bent at the waist from them. “—RZSCHHhh’uh!—hh’RGHZSCHhh’ish!

Before he could stop himself, let alone consider the boldness of his uncharacteristic actions, Hermann had shot forward and settled a hand along Newton’s lower back - to help him regain a sturdy foothold.

Breathe, Newton,” Hermann instructed, more than a touch of concern in his tone.

Newt shook with a final—“hh’rghxcht!”—that he pinched between his fingers, and then exhaled with all the heaviness and weariness of someone who had just run a marathon. If his eyes had been dripping before, they were positively streaming now in two thick trails down his face.

Hermann monitored him closely, prepared to alert someone if Newton needed any assistance he could not provide, when Newton surfaced with a bleary look.

“Holy shhhit. I’m dizzy,” he said.

“I should think so, after all of that,” Hermann agreed, still a little unsettled by the violent display. “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m good,” Newt dismissed, as if he hadn’t just sneezed enough to severely disorient himself. “That was actually pretty tame compared to most of my allergy attacks.” Reaching back, he grabbed Hermann’s handkerchief from his pocket and used the cloth to mop up his eyes and blow his nose. “Whew. Still kind of intense, though. Bless me.”

Newton sniffed—a wet, runny sound—and then furrowed his eyebrows, as if confused. Wearing the same puzzled expression, he turned his head around and looked down at Hermann’s hand, which had yet to leave its perch on the small of his back.

“Uhhh…Hermann?”

Hermann also glanced down, and upon seeing what Newton was referring to, he pulled his hand away quickly and cleared his throat. His cheeks and ears burned, yet he elected to ignore the hot flush as he transferred both of his hands to grip the top of his cane.

“You nearly fell over,” Hermann said crisply. “I was merely attempting to correct your balance.”

Newt grinned. “Uh-huh. Snf! Or, you can totally get off the denial train and admit that you do care about my wellbeing.”

Hermann grumbled things that weren’t actually words and then huffed. “Since you won’t go yourself, I have no choice but to personally escort you to Medical. Come. Before you sneeze yourself into a coma.”

“What’s funny,” Newt began, gripping the handkerchief in one hand and using his other to extract his glasses from his pocket, “is that this is just—snf!—a reaction to those flora samples they brought in earlier. You don’t even wanna see me around cats, dude. I will literally die.”  

No cats, Hermann mentally recorded, leading them back into the hall. For both our sakes.

 

END.

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Squeeeee!!!! I love this!

52 minutes ago, Spoo said:

Honestly, why Newton didn’t just report to Medical was beyond Hermann, but he assumed there was scant room for rationality when one was trapped in the midst of an aggressive, ongoing allergy attack.

This description is killer!

 

54 minutes ago, Spoo said:

“I should think so, after all of that,” Hermann agreed, still a little unsettled by the violent display.

Indeed

 

54 minutes ago, Spoo said:

“That was actually pretty tame compared to most of my allergy attacks.”

I'd hate (and by that I mean love) to see that then....

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  • 3 weeks later...

Thank you, AngelEyes! :D I love writing for these two goobers so much~

 

To no one's surprise my obsession with Newt and Hermann hasn't died down, sooo I've been writing bits and pieces over on tumblr. This one is pretty short, but I figured it was cute enough to stick here. Enjoy! :yay:  

---

Chicken Soup

 

Hermann was retrieving his handkerchief when Newton all but skidded into the lab, breathless. The biologist looked both elated and stressed, or perhaps some odd hybrid of both, as he flounced over and triumphantly smacked something down in front of Hermann with all the confidence of a champion poker player laying out a royal flush.

“And you said it was impossible,” Newt gloated, his glasses askew and hair slightly more unkempt than its usual windblown style. “Well HAH, my doubtful naysayer. Chicken soup a la Shatterdome. Be grateful I don't charge a delivery fee.”

Hermann blinked, his dark eyes watery from the cold he claimed he didn't have, and looked at the offering. Their current setting wasn’t equipped for personal food requests, nor did it provide anything other than a strictly rationed menu, so for Newton to have somehow secured chicken soup? Mein Gott.

“I’d rather not imagine the childish tantrum you threw in order to have this prepared,” Hermann said with a thick, distinctly ticklish sniff. He brought his handkerchief to his nose, tending to it gently, before letting the cloth hover inches away from his nostrils. A beat passed, and then he was muffling a tightly compressed sneeze into the soft folds. "Hhh'rrffschhhh!"

"Okay, first of all bless you--that's number eleven, by the way--and second of all, you’d be surprised what kind of leeway the K-science division has around here. It's not as hard as you think to pull a few strings,” Newt replied, dismissive. He then pointed at the soup with purpose. “You better drink every single drop, dude. I’m serious.”

I didn’t flip my shit in the mess, climb over the counter, and barge into the kitchen for nothing, Newt thought, though he might as well have said it out loud, because Hermann shook his head like he already knew what went down.

Tired and foggy-headed as he presently felt, Hermann accepted the kind gesture with a small cough. “You needn’t trouble yourself next time,” he started to say, which perhaps wasn't the wisest phrase to begin with. The next thing he knew Newton was storming across the lab, hands thrown heavenward.

“God, would it KILL you to say ‘thank you’ for once?” he fussed. 

Hermann denied the tempting urge to lose his patience. “If you would have let me finish,” he remarked crisply, prior to sighing away the irritation he was too exhausted to properly broadcast. He coughed again, and when he spoke his voice was a touch hoarser. “Thank you, Newton. That was very thoughtful of you.”

Newt froze in place by the hand sink, his fingers hovering and dripping with soapy suds. Disbelief flashed across his face, and he suddenly, worryingly, wondered just how sick Hermann was to have actually thanked him for the soup.

“Uhhh... You’re welcome?”

It must have been a good enough response, because Hermann started eating the soup while Newt tried (and failed) to abandon his disbelief. 

 

END.

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So happy you still obsess these boys! I finally saw the first movie and Love it!!! Now unfortunately since I missed it in theaters I have to wait for the new one to come out in June.  This is brilliant. You do these two quirky cuties lovely.

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

“And you said it was impossible,” Newt gloated, his glasses askew and hair slightly more unkempt than its usual windblown style. “Well HAH, my doubtful naysayer. Chicken soup a la Shatterdome. Be grateful I don't charge a delivery fee.”

Can totally picture him!

 

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

Their current setting wasn’t equipped for personal food requests, nor did it provide anything other than a strictly rationed menu, so for Newton to have somehow secured chicken soup? Mein Gott.

LOL

 

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

A beat passed, and then he was muffling a tightly compressed sneeze into the soft folds. "Hhh'rrffschhhh!"

This is Perfect!

 

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

"Okay, first of all bless you--that's number eleven, by the way--and second of all, you’d be surprised what kind of leeway the K-science division has around here. It's not as hard as you think to pull a few strings,” Newt replied, dismissive. 

I love that he casually inserts the count.

 

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

The next thing he knew Newton was storming across the lab, hands thrown heavenward.

“God, would it KILL you to say ‘thank you’ for once?” he fussed. 

 

8 hours ago, Spoo said:

Newt froze in place by the hand sink, his fingers hovering and dripping with soapy suds. Disbelief flashed across his face, and he suddenly, worryingly, wondered just how sick Hermann was to have actually thanked him for the soup.

“Uhhh... You’re welcome?”

I can totally picture both of these reactions!

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Newton was quite beyond help (both from Hermann himself and a trained professional).

I love that it's so official... he's literally, actually, clinically beyond help.

The quasi-interaction that follows is so golden...

Herman: omg don't do it don't say anything don't lose your cool don't 

Newt: *says one more thing*

Herman: *loses it*

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“I’ve needed to sneeze, like, all morning. It’s not coming out, and it’s drivihhhng me crazy.”

Hmggg he is so forthright with that information... it seems the usual response in fics is to try and deny it, but Newt does not give a fuck and it's such a nice change of pace. In fact, he seems to be seeking out the attention, which is just :wub:

I love Hermann's dry humor infused throughout... you did such a good job with that.

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Sometimes it would be two sneezes, sometimes three, and sometimes Newton wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Excuse the sunny ref but WILDCARE BITCHES. I love that his pattern is unpredictable!!!

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“Did you get a degree in sneezing when I wasn’t looking, orrrr...?”

OMG DO THEY OFFER THOSE. This banter... it's my new oxygen. Hermann is so sharp and sassy and eloquent but Newt has no trouble keeping up with him.

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The biologist was teetering on the precipice of another sneeze—the last one, by the look of it—and directing all of his effort and concentration on its fruition. It came, sure enough, with all the grand theatrics and embellishments that Dr. Newton Geiszler was comprised of.

By the look of it... omg he can just tell!

Excuse me, I need a moment before I proceed to the next...

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YAAAS! So glad you two finally saw the movie. Don't get me wrong, it was SUPER flattering that you both read my stuff before you saw it, so thanks for that. :wub:  And thanks for your lovely comments, too. :heart: 

 

Someone please stop me. :lol:  I need help. Here's YET ANOTHER ficlet featuring a cold-ridden Hermann again, but in a different setting. You can view this as either a domestic AU where kaiju don't exist, OR a slice of life "downtime" following the closing of the Breach. 

---

Bill Nye

 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, Herms,” Newt said, running his fingers through the fine strands of Hermann’s hair. He offered the same affectionate attention to the soft fuzz of his undercut as well. “You, like, always catch a cold in March. Without fail, man.”

There was a sound of protest from down below, where Hermann was currently using Newt’s thighs as a pillow. He felt wretched, absolutely so, though miraculously still inclined to defend himself. He cleared his throat, hardened his voice, and tried very hard to enunciate his words through his nasal congestion.

“I do not.”

‘I do dot’,” Newt imitated, adding the stuffy emphasis to the word 'not' that Hermann hadn’t quite managed to elude. “Also, are you actually trying to make yourself sound intimidating right now? Because if you are, it’s totally not working,” Newt pointed out, snickering. "Not even a little."

He felt bad for Hermann, sure, but he wasn't going to pretend to be scared when fear was the last thing he was feeling. How could he when Hermann was basically a kitten right now, swatting and hissing at him before falling over?

“And you do SO, by the way. Last year you got sick in March, and the year before that, too.”

Hermann had to think around the cotton that was stuffing up his head to confirm whether or not Newton's statement was correct. He did tend to fall ill during the changing of seasons, but it was more of a coincidence than a guarantee. At least, that was what he’d told himself year after year, cold after miserable, bloody cold.

“I mean,” Newt continued, interrupting Hermann’s train of thought. “We can’t all have a stellar immune system. That just wouldn’t be fair.”

Hermann’s rheumy eyes opened just so they could roll closed again. “Need I remind you who it was that contracted influenza in December?”

“That J-technician LITERALLY sneezed in my face, Hermann. You don’t have to be a biologist to know how the transmission of pathogens works,” Newt huffed, thinking back to the cringeworthy event and shuddering deeply.

Perhaps it was the inclusion of the word ‘sneezed’, or just poorly-timed irony, but a feathery twinge in Hermann’s nose suddenly made itself known. He shielded a hand over his mouth (he had no intention of catching the sneeze that way, yet some kind of precautionary barrier was better than no barrier at all), and used his other hand to flail at Newton.

Newt already knew the drill—waving hand = ‘I need a tissue, pronto’—and quickly reached for the box that was sitting on the arm of the couch. He shoved it in front of Hermann, who snatched two sheets and pressed them against the lower part of his face.

“Hhh’rhfffschuh!

Newt gave Hermann’s back a comforting rub, even as he felt him tense up again.

“Hhh’rffhschhh!

“Bl-eh-ss you,” Newt offered, dramatically articulating the blessing in hopes that it would somehow chase away any more potential sneezes. They weren't particularly loud or jarring or anything, but Hermann insisted on squashing them down anyway (which probably didn't feel nice with inflamed sinuses, a sore throat, and a pounding headache).

Hermann snuffled into the tissue, crumpled it, and kept it trapped in his fist as he readjusted against Newton’s leg. “Thank you. Excuse me.”

Newt hummed in acknowledgement and started stroking through Hermann’s hair again. “You know what’ll make you feel better, babe?”

“…aside from rest, water, and paracetamol?”

“I mean yeah, okay, that too, but like—that’s not what I meant. I’m talking more along the lines of binging Bill Nye. I fucking LOVE Bill Nye.”

Hermann sniffed, half in distaste over Newton swearing and half because he felt that ticklish twinge again. “Language.”

Seriously?” Newt asked, incredulous. “Fine. I’ll cut back on the f-bombs, but as a compromise we’re watching Bill Nye. I have every season saved on my laptop just for these kind of occasions. Same with Friends.”

The flailing ‘I-need-a-tissue’ hand made an abrupt comeback, and Newt offered up the box again. This time, he kept talking over Hermann’s sneezes.

“Speaking of Friends, I honestly can’t believe—”

Rhrffff’schh!

“—you’ve never seen the show, Hermann. How do you even—

Hrrh’rrschhuh!

“—live with yourself?”

“Mmm. I had never seen Bill Nye the Science Guy either until you insisted on introducing it to me last month,” Hermann said, wiping his nose and sighing wearily. “Excuse me.”

“Dude, you’re excused for the rest of your cold. You don’t have to keep saying that,” Newt told him, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re gonna finish up Bill and then start Friends. It’s ten seasons, so there’s a hell of a commitment there, but we can knock it out in like two weeks if we’re really dedicated. We just, uh. We just won’t sleep.”

Careful not to jostle his precious cargo too much, Newt bent over Hermann and reached for the blanket that was pooled on the floor; he covered Hermann up, nice and cozy, and then opened the laptop on the coffee table. Hermann was close to dozing by the time Newt started up an episode, but he watched the screen, lashes fluttering sleepily, as he struggled to stay awake for the next fifteen minutes. 

He eventually fell asleep to soft strokes across the nape of his neck, as well as the sound of Newton’s hyena laughter.

 

END.

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6 hours ago, Spoo said:

OR a slice of life "downtime" following the closing of the Breach. 

Awwww.

 

6 hours ago, Spoo said:

‘I do dot’,” Newt imitated, adding the stuffy emphasis to the word 'not' that Hermann hadn’t quite managed to elude.

LOL

 

6 hours ago, Spoo said:

Newt already knew the drill—waving hand = ‘I need a tissue, pronto’—and quickly reached for the box that was sitting on the arm of the couch.

This is adorable!

 

6 hours ago, Spoo said:

Hermann sniffed, half in distaste over Newton swearing and half because he felt that ticklish twinge again. “Language.”

Oh Hermann. Always so proper.

 

6 hours ago, Spoo said:

“Anyway, we’re gonna finish up Bill and then start Friends. It’s ten seasons, so there’s a hell of a commitment there, but we can knock it out in like two weeks if we’re really dedicated. We just, uh. We just won’t sleep.”

I can totally imagine his fanatical dedication. LOL

 

6 hours ago, Spoo said:

He eventually fell asleep to soft strokes across the nape of his neck, as well as the sound of Newton’s hyena laughter.

Awwww

Yay for another story!

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  • 3 weeks later...

Thanks, @AngelEyes! They're seriously my favorite pairing right now. :wub:  

I've turned the tables and given Newt a cold this time around. Set fairly early on after Newt and Hermann are employed at the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Pre-first movie. Enjoy! :D  

---

Checking In

 

It really, truly wasn’t his responsibility. Surely there was someone more qualified—a medical officer, perhaps?—who could go in his place. The more Hermann thought about it, the less assured he became. There was no logical reason why he couldn’t see the task through himself, he supposed. He certainly had no desire to contact the Marshal over it. After all of the complaints he’d submitted regarding his lab partner’s behavior, Hermann was sure he’d be called a madman for enquiring whether someone could confirm if Dr. Newton Geiszler was alright.

Not seeing the biologist in the morning was fairly common. Newton slept at odd hours and typically clambered into the lab sometime past noon. When lunchtime came and went and there was still no sign of the man, Hermann was puzzled. Newton hadn’t mentioned an appointment or absence of any kind; it was most uncharacteristic of him not to show up at all, however unpredictable and noncommittal he was. 

In the end Hermann decided to let the situation be and take advantage of the silence. It was exceedingly rare that he was granted such peace—what, with Newton’s inane babbling, loud singing, and the music he insisted on blaring whenever Hermann was in the midst of solving an equation. Thus, he greedily soaked up each bit of the blessedly quiet atmosphere.

Newton was still missing when Hermann took his evening meal in the mess. When they weren’t sitting together (and by ‘sitting together’, it meant whenever Newton insisted on inviting himself to share Hermann’s table) Newton usually sat with Tendo Choi. When Hermann looked towards Mr. Choi, who was seated not very far away, he failed to see Newton there either. How strange...

Hermann eventually retired to his own quarters for the night, though rather than adhere to his strict bedtime regimen, he sat at his desk and began composing an email. It seemed an absurd thing to do when Newton’s own quarters were directly  across the hall, but emailing had been their common ground for several years before they met in person. It was familiar. It was comforting. Hermann chewed on his lip as he read over his words:

 

Newton, 

You did not report for duty today, nor did you eat during our scheduled mealtime. While your business is entirely your own, I feel it is within my rights as your colleague to enquire your whereabouts—

 

No, Hermann thought, deleting the entire draft and shutting his laptop. There was no need to contact Newton. He would be in the lab the next day for sure, and they could resume their disagreements and squabbling then. Yes. That was how it would be. 

...only, it wasn’t. 

Newton remained MIA for two more days. By that point an honest concern had spread throughout Hermann, rendering him incapable of thinking of anything else. Not seeing Newton for a day he could dismiss, but not seeing him for three was completely bizarre. He thought back to their last interaction to see if he’d overlooked something. Newton had seemed a tad more snappish than usual, but even that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Hermann had attributed it to Newton’s frustration with a lack of new kaiju samples, but perhaps it had been due to something else entirely.

The worrying thought stalled Hermann’s uneven footsteps and stopped him in front of his quarters. He offered a glance across the hall, at Newton’s door, and gripped his cane tightly. Was he even in there? There was only one way to find out, he knew. 

Right then. Forward march. 

Hermann came to stand before Newton’s door and steeled himself; it would be a quick interaction (assuming Newton was in) and nothing more. Clearing his throat, Hermann extended a fist and clunked along the hard metal of the door. The knock echoed down the corridor, louder than he’d anticipated, and sent a brief jolt of panic through Hermann. He withdrew his hand sharply, as though burned, and set it atop his other hand on his cane’s handle. 

There was no response at first, or even seconds later. Rather than try again—really, once was more than enough, thank you kindly—Hermann turned on his heel and prepared to depart. His action was interrupted, however, by the door in front of him being unlatched and opened. Blinking, Hermann turned around again and stared ahead, where a very disheveled Newton Geiszler now stood.

In truth, Hermann barely recognized him. The biological features were all there: the dark hair, the green eyes, the smattering of freckles, and yet...everything else was wrong. There were no ridiculously tight trousers, too-thin ties or stylish boots, but an oversized hooded jumper (most likely from Newton’s academic years if the MIT logo said anything) and tracksuit bottoms instead. Upon further inspection Hermann realized that, no, they weren’t tracksuit bottoms after all, but rather pajama bottoms with cartoonish dinosaurs patterned onto them. 

Newton looked pale, though his nose and cheeks shared a similar crimson flush. He didn’t need to speak for Hermann to know that he was ill, but when he did it only solidified everything. 

“So uh, this is unexpected,” Newt said, running a hand through his hair. The strands were even more unruly than usual, though not in a way that suggested it was intentional. “Were you just, like, in the neighborhood or something? Because this is seriously the first time you’ve ever knocked on my door.”

Hermann could feel himself starting to bristle in defense, yet he calmly reminded himself that Newton’s statement was not incorrect. It was the first time he’d knocked. “You’ve been gone for three days,” he said, squaring his shoulders and standing as straightly as his bad leg and hip would permit. “I thought it best to make sure of your whereabouts before I alerted the Marshal of your absence.” 

“He already knows,” Newt said, much to Hermann’s genuine surprise. “I emailed him saying I felt like shit and that I was holing up in my room until I could breathe again.” Whether in demonstration of his congestion or just a coincidence, Newt ducked into his elbow to smother a few chesty coughs. 

If this was true, why hadn’t the Marshal informed Hermann? Did Pentecost not deem Newton’s absence important enough to share? Did he not trust Hermann to follow protocol and continue his work in lieu of the only other K-Science researcher? 

“...I can practically hear the robot gears turning in your head,” Newt deadpanned, sniffing. He leaned in the doorway, as though the very effort of standing on his own was an exhausting task. “I asked him not to say anything to you because I didn’t want you bitching if I ended up getting you sick.” It had happened once before, years back, and Newt hadn’t heard the end of it. “But hey, whatever, you came to my actual door to bitch at me, so I guess it didn’t even matter.”

Hermann frowned. He was not ‘bitching’ at Newton in the slightest. Not unless coming to check on him was considered so. “Have you at least reported to Medical for an assessment of your condition?”

Newt‘s dry lips twitched into an amused smile. “Yes, Mr. Spock. Bones said it was just an upper respiratory infection,” he said, mimicking Captain James T. Kirk only because Hermann had seriously sounded like a Vulcan with that last question of his. Newt sniffed again - a thick, unpleasant sound. “It’s a head cold, dude. Probably caught it from Tendo. He was sick as hell last week.”

Hermann did recall Mr. Choi looking peaky the week prior, yet he hadn’t thought to observe anything beyond an initial acknowledgment of the man’s condition. “Dare I ask if you are properly equipped to tend to your illness?”

“Uhhh. If you consider face-planting on my bed and not moving for several hours ‘properly equipped’, then yeah. I’ve barely moved today aside from getting up when yhhh...y-you—hangonasec—“ 

Newt drew himself up from his slouch in the doorway to lean behind the open door; it shielded the front end of his torso, though it didn’t exactly muffle the loud, sickly sneezes that came after. 

“Hihh’RZSCHHHhhish!—RH’ZHSHHHhhish!” The first two were back to back with no space for a breath in between, yet the third and fourth were separated by a sharp gasp: “...hhh’RFFSCHHHhhuih!—hihh!RHSCHHHhhuh!

They were just as theatric as Newton’s normal sneezes, Hermann thought, yet they were distinctly stronger and far more—Hermann cringed—damp. He waited for Newt to reappear from behind the door, and when he did, sniveling and bleary-eyed, Hermann offered a quiet blessing.

“Ugh, thanks. I’m gonna have a six pack by the end of this cold with how many times I’ve sneezed already. It’s insane,” Newt said, reaching into the front compartment of his hooded jumper and pulling out what looked like a stash of tissues. He brought a handful to his nose and kept them there as he spoke. “But yeah, I’m good, man. If you need me to argue with you or diss whatever theory you’re working on, just shoot me an email. Otherwise I’ll see you when I can actually be around the lab without spraying my germs everywhere.” 

“Very well,” Hermann agreed, shifting his foot so he could finally leave. “In the meantime see that you don’t suffocate on your own mucus. There is nowhere near enough funding left to replace you.”

“If that’s your weird, emotionally repressed way of saying ‘I hope you feel better’, then I’ll take it,” Newt said, watching as Hermann started to hobble away. Before he could disappear entirely, Newt added: “Thanks for making sure I was alive!” 

Hermann froze, shoulders upraised and tense. He didn’t turn around or raise his voice so Newt could actually hear his response, but he said it softly beneath his breath instead: “Someone had to.” 

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I love this. It's so fantastically in character!!! And it's funny because I was just thinking about these two this morning. I just saw Uprising a couple days ago and am having hard feelings about it. LOL. So It's lovely to see these boys like this!!!! You are amazing!

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

After all of the complaints he’d submitted regarding his lab partner’s behavior, Hermann was sure he’d be called a madman for enquiring whether someone could confirm if Dr. Newton Geiszler was alright.

A bit out of character...

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

Newton, 

You did not report for duty today, nor did you eat during our scheduled mealtime. While your business is entirely your own, I feel it is within my rights as your colleague to enquire your whereabouts—

 

This is SOOO Hermann!

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

Right then. Forward march. 

Hermann came to stand before Newton’s door and steeled himself; it would be a quick interaction (assuming Newton was in) and nothing more.

Love how he has to psych himself up.

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

Rather than try again—really, once was more than enough, thank you kindly—Hermann turned on his heel and prepared to depart.

I can totally hear him literally thinking this.

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

Upon further inspection Hermann realized that, no, they weren’t tracksuit bottoms after all, but rather pajama bottoms with cartoonish dinosaurs patterned onto them. 

LOL, total Newt!

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

Newt‘s dry lips twitched into an amused smile. “Yes, Mr. Spock. Bones said it was just an upper respiratory infection,” he said, mimicking Captain James T. Kirk only because Hermann had seriously sounded like a Vulcan with that last question of his.

Love this!

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

“Hihh’RZSCHHHhhish!—RH’ZHSHHHhhish!” The first two were back to back with no space for a breath in between, yet the third and fourth were separated by a sharp gasp: “...hhh’RFFSCHHHhhuih!—hihh!RHSCHHHhhuh!

Mmmmmm, perfection!

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

“Ugh, thanks. I’m gonna have a six pack by the end of this cold with how many times I’ve sneezed already. It’s insane,” Newt said, reaching into the front compartment of his hooded jumper and pulling out what looked like a stash of tissues.

Love this thought!

 

1 hour ago, Spoo said:

“Very well,” Hermann agreed, shifting his foot so he could finally leave. “In the meantime see that you don’t suffocate on your own mucus. There is nowhere near enough funding left to replace you.”

“If that’s your weird, emotionally repressed way of saying ‘I hope you feel better’, then I’ll take it,” Newt said, watching as Hermann started to hobble away. Before he could disappear entirely, Newt added: “Thanks for making sure I was alive!” 

Hermann froze, shoulders upraised and tense. He didn’t turn around or raise his voice so Newt could actually hear his response, but he said it softly beneath his breath instead: “Someone had to.” 

This is absolutely perfectly them!

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  • 2 weeks later...

@AngelEyes: Omg, wasn’t Uprising DEVASTATING? My poor fan girl heart still can’t take it. :cry: Thanks for your sweet comments, though! :hug:

 

Someone on tumblr requested this prompt, which is: Newt and Hermann blame each other for getting the other sick. You can imagine how fun this was to write. :lol: Slight mess warning (but nothing too extreme).

Enjoy! :D 

 

 

You Got Me Sick

 

Newt didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he was coming down with something, or the fact that his body hadn’t even bothered to fight the stupid virus off. A brutal cold had been making its ugly rounds around the Shatterdome, and it seemed to be sparing no one from its wrath. Newt was so confident that he’d dodged the bullet (as he often did whenever ‘the plague’ went around) but that was before he woke up with all the telltale symptoms. 

Throat fucked? Cough. Yup. 

Nose stuffy yet oddly leaky? Snnrrrfffl. Yup. 

Achy and fatigued? Groannn. Yuppp. 

All there, all legit, all absolutely undeniable.

In spite of how crummy he felt, Newt still dragged himself into the lab to get some work done. He wasn’t stupid enough to play with kaiju samples when his nose wouldn’t stop dripping, so he settled for parking it in front of his computer and cataloging some of his more recent discoveries and theories. He’d forgone his usual wardrobe of tight pants and skinny ties and opted for a more comfortable selection of sweats and an oversized MIT hoodie he’d picked up during his time in Boston. 

The uncharacteristic ensemble, paired with the gel-less hair that sat limply on his forehead, created the perfect image of a ‘sick day’. Only, Newt wasn’t in bed. He couldn’t be in bed. It was better to get as much progress in as he could before he felt the full force of illness weighing him down like a sack of bricks.

Newt barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching ten minutes into his task, although that was probably because he’d been coughing into the floppy sleeve he’d pulled over his hand. There was only one person it could have been anyway, and he doubted Hermann was in the mood for chitchat right off the bat. It typically took his lab partner a good hour before he started to talk, and even then it was mostly grunts and harrumphs and quick little quips. 

Today, however, it wasn’t any of those things. Today, it was a sneeze.

“Hhh’rrschh!”

Newt turned his head at an angle and found Hermann just as he’d pictured him: gripping his cane with one hand, and clutching a handkerchief against his face with the other. Hunh. Maybe Mr. Uptight Bossypants was feeling under the weather, too.

“Gekgh—” The attempt at speaking broke off into a hoarse little croak, urging Newt to clear his throat with another strong cough. “Gesundheit,” he said, successful this time.

Hermann mumbled something (whether it was a ‘thank you’, Newt couldn’t tell) and then hobbled over to his blackboard to presumably start working. Newt turned back to his own work and leaned over the keyboard, his fingers prepared to supply another three or four lines of documentation. That was, of course, before his nose decided to be a prick and drip on the space bar. Motherfucker

Reaching for the tissue box he’d been gradually depleting since waking up that morning, he snatched a few sheets and pressed them against his nostrils. He wasn’t above becoming a tissue walrus if that’s what it took to plug up the continuous trickle, but thankfully the leakiness wasn’t that bad yet. A few more dabs and unproductive blowing later—seriously, what kind of cruel sorcery made a nose run yet be impossible to blow?—Newt crumpled the tissues and tossed them to join the others in the wastebasket at his feet; his face was throbbing after trying (and failing) to lessen his congestion. 

Newt grimaced as he tenderly palpated the inflamed cavities under his eyes once he’d pushed his glasses up onto his head. Head colds always destroyed his sinuses, regardless of their severity. It was a nightmare each and every goddamn time.

Soon there’d be a fever (if he didn’t have one already), and awful drainage, and coughing up yellowish-green crud for the next three weeks. Honestly, what had he even done to deserve this? Was this karma for hiding Hermann’s chalk for two days? If so, what the hell

Newt pulled his hands away from his face with a watery wince and hitching breath. Poking his sinuses when they were incredibly sensitive prooobably hadn’t been his smartest idea to date. Newt had never been a fan of learning ‘the hard way’, but for whatever reason it always bit him in the ass anyway. Now was no exception. 

More tissues were plucked—Newt wasn’t chancing his hands or sleeves being unnecessarily doused with spray—and shoved over his nose and mouth just in time.

“Hhh’GHSCHHhhh!” 

Rather than his usual sneeze, which was bold and loudly vocalized, the sneezes he tended to produce during an impending sinus infection were mostly voiceless; they sounded more like damp rushes of air being fired from some kind of pressurized apparatus, rather than anything else. That definitely didn’t make them hurt any less, though. Oww

Newt surfaced from the tissues, snuffling and dazed, though he ended up dipping back into them when the tickle escalated again.

GHZSCHHHhhh!—hhih’CHSCHHHhhh! Unnghn…” This time, the sneezes were followed by a miserable moan Newt hadn’t been able to bite back.

From behind him, Hermann said in a voice not much healthier or clearer than Newt’s: “If you’re ill, which you so clearly are, I would highly advise reporting to Medical.” 

Newt would have rolled his eyes if doing so didn’t upset his aching orbital sockets. “Kind of ironic coming from you,” he said, without turning around. “You sound like shit.” 

Hermann’s scribblings on the blackboard became louder, as though in retaliation. “I am not the one exuding mucus at an alarming rate.”

“Give it some time,” Newt countered, throwing the tissues away and finally sliding his glasses back into place. “As a matter of fact, you’re probably the one who got me sick in the first place.” 

“Preposterous and absurd,” Hermann huffed, and then muffled a cough into his elbow. “If anything, my immune system failed me because you have spent the last three days refusing to cover your mouth.” 

“What?! Okay, FIRST of all that was like one time, and the only reason I didn’t cover was because my hands were buried in lung tissue,” Newt protested, turning around to glare at Hermann now. He’d at least caught the sneeze in question against his shoulder, which was better than just letting it go freely. 

“If you would have admitted to feeling poorly then instead of insisting ‘it’s just allergies, man’,” Hermann’s impersonation of Newt’s high voice was shockingly spot-on, “then maybe I would have been spared from your germs.” 

MY germs?” The would-be screech broke off into coughing, and then into hissing as the painful pressure in Newt’s swollen sinuses spiked. “…you were probably incubating the virus way sooner than I was. Remember when you threw that pen at me?”

“You threw it at me first,” Hermann sneered.

“Yeah, with a glove on! You touched that shit with your bare hand,” Newt accused. “After you coughed all over it.”

“I coughed in my handkerchief!”

“Oh, like THAT makes it any better! Handkerchiefs are basically germ factories, dude!”

It was doubtful either of them had realized it, yet their squabble had brought them away from their respective areas and into the center of the lab. Up close Hermann looked pale and shaky, or so Newt noticed; it made something tug in his chest, which then defused his annoyance altogether. 

Newt sighed. “It doesn’t even matter who got who sick, does it?”

“No,” Hermann replied, sniffing. “I suppose not. The damage is done and we are both unwell.”

“Which is why I don’t plan on taking a full day today,” Newt said, glancing back over at his workstation. “Probably gonna knock out another hour and then take my ass to bed. You should do the same if you’re feeling half as dead as I a—”

“Hhh’rrhschh!”

The abrupt sneeze had Newt turning back towards Hermann, who had swiveled away from Newt to catch the release in his handkerchief. Oh yeah, they were the perfect picture of health. Pfft.

“Bless you,” Newt offered, feeling his own nose tingle in sympathy.

Hermann stayed in place, unsure if another sneeze would follow, but when none did he straightened up and exhaled exhaustedly. “Thank you.”

“Like I was saying, we should probably wrap things up early. I hate the thought of not getting shit done just as much as you do, Hermann, but I seriously feel like someone took a sledgehammer and smashed me in the face with it,” Newt admitted, touching his pulsing forehead.

“I, too, have felt better,” Hermann confessed, and then froze when Newt suddenly invaded his personal space by stepping very close to him.

“Do I have a fever? My hands are hot so I can’t tell.”

Hermann swallowed thickly and pocketed his handkerchief. Switching hands, so that the ‘germ factory’ hand was now clutching his cane, he used the opposite one to slip under Newt’s loose bangs and feel the skin underneath. Physical contact was not something he actively initiated or received, which explained Hermann’s awkwardness as he stretched his palm along Newt’s brow. If he didn’t know any better he could have sworn that Newt was leaning into his touch, but perhaps Hermann was only imagining it. 

“You, ah…do feel a bit warm,” he noted, withdrawing his hand and setting it atop his other one quickly. “But I can’t be certain unless you properly take your temperature.”

Newt shrugged and walked away to return to his computer. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” he said, sitting back down. 

Hermann followed suit and limped back to his equations. Neither of them spoke for the next hour, save for the blessings that were exchanged whenever sneezes were involved. Eventually, they both retired for the afternoon and left the lab together, deciding to form a truce and let accusatory bygones be bygones.

*

A day later, when Tendo Choi noted how awful Newt looked and sounded, the biologist said without missing a beat: “Hermann got me sick.”

That very same day, when Marshal Pentecost commented on Hermann’s whistling and wheezy breaths, the mathematician instantly stated: “This is Newton’s doing.”

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OMG. I love this. Totally them to be blaming each other. I like how they then decide it doesn't really matter and call a truce. But then blame it on the other to others! LOL!

7 hours ago, Spoo said:

He’d forgone his usual wardrobe of tight pants and skinny ties and opted for a more comfortable selection of sweats and an oversized MIT hoodie he’d picked up during his time in Boston. 

The uncharacteristic ensemble, paired with the gel-less hair that sat limply on his forehead, created the perfect image of a ‘sick day’.

Awww

 

7 hours ago, Spoo said:

Maybe Mr. Uptight Bossypants was feeling under the weather, too.

LOL

 

7 hours ago, Spoo said:

Honestly, what had he even done to deserve this? Was this karma for hiding Hermann’s chalk for two days? If so, what the hell

Ha!

 

7 hours ago, Spoo said:

Hermann swallowed thickly and pocketed his handkerchief. Switching hands, so that the ‘germ factory’ hand was now clutching his cane, he used the opposite one to slip under Newt’s loose bangs and feel the skin underneath. Physical contact was not something he actively initiated or received, which explained Hermann’s awkwardness as he stretched his palm along Newt’s brow. If he didn’t know any better he could have sworn that Newt was leaning into his touch, but perhaps Hermann was only imagining it. 

I love awkward Hermann and needy Newt.

 

7 hours ago, Spoo said:

A day later, when Tendo Choi noted how awful Newt looked and sounded, the biologist said without missing a beat: “Hermann got me sick.”

That very same day, when Marshal Pentecost commented on Hermann’s whistling and wheezy breaths, the mathematician instantly stated: “This is Newton’s doing.”

LOL!!!

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