Oh hey guys. This is actually my 6th Pacific Rim fanfiction I just don't post them here because of the dumb restrictions this website has. If you want to read the other five you can check out my Ao3 account. I have the same username there, but if you can't find it, send me a PM and I'll get you a link. Without further ado, enjoy this fic, I'm super proud of it. I don't own Pacific Rim.
Cold sweat drenched his skin, his clothes, and sheets, and Newt almost strangled himself trying to get out of the tangled mess of sheets. He smacked against the cold metal floor, shaking and trembling as blue images continued to flash behind his eyes. Monsters, the Breach, the Kaiju masters, all of it playing like torn film haphazardly put back together along his eyelids.
Eventually he forced himself upright, clicking the lamp that sat on his desk before grabbing the water bottle next to it. He leaned back against his bed and took a few swallows of water, trying to pretend it didn't feel like he was drowning.
It had been three days since the Breach closed and every night, his dreams were plagued with old memories of the Kaiju. Or at least he hoped they were old. It was terrifying to think he was still receiving impulses from the hive mind because it would mean they hadn't truly succeeded. It was still too early to think of that possibility. Newt wanted a chance to celebrate their success, but his brain wouldn't let him.
Newt hauled himself back onto his bed, leaving the sheets on the ground so he didn't have to deal with them tangling up again. He stared up at the ceiling wishing he could find sleep, true sleep that didn't leave him feeling worse off than before.
As the sweat dried and his skin cooled, Newt turned his gaze to the door. Strong metal, capable technically of surviving a nuclear blast, not that that would stop the brute force of a Kaiju determined to find the one who had so rudely intruded on the collective hive mind. His eyes darted down to look at his chest, his arms, a canvas of inked Kaiju. How could he have thought that wrapping himself in such horrifying things would make him feel safe?
A broken sob escaped him and he curled onto his side. Before he drifted with the Kaiju, he would trace the lines of his tattoos when he woke from a nightmarish hell of their world destroyed. He'd recite their stats; their color, weight, who killed them, how long it took, everything. They had served as a reminder that they could still win.
But that was before they lost the Kaidonovskys and the Wei Tang brothers. Before they lost so many pilots so quickly. Now all he wanted to do was scratch the ink off. Rather scars than the eyes of monsters constantly watching him.
With a ragged sigh, Newt pushed himself upright before getting to his feet and walking over to his dresser. He grabbed a sweater, buried at the bottom of a drawer full of band t-shirts because he'd hated covering up his tats before. Hurriedly, he tugged it on, but it didn't dampen the fear or the panic and he could feel his nose bleeding again.
"Oh fuck this," he muttered, swiping at his nose.
He grabbed his room key and shoved it in his shorts pocket before heading out into the hall. The silence of the halls was unsettling. Before, the Shatterdome was constantly bustling with activity, always ready to go in case of an unpredicted event. Now it was different, and Newt hated it. He'd never done well with silence. When he got to the lab, someone else was already there, packing heavy textbooks into a plastic crate.
"Hermann?" Newt's voice cracked.
"I am not in the mood for your antics tonight Newton, so spare me," Hermann said.
"You're...not using your cane," Newt said as Hermann crossed in front of him, his limp heavy and painful looking. "Also, dude, it's like...morning now."
"Well I can't very handle all these books with one hand, can I?"
Newt moved to cut him off, grabbing the other scientist's shoulder. Hermann froze a moment, then crumpled forward as his leg gave out. Newt barely caught him and Hermann began to curse up a storm against his chest.
"Oh shut up Hermann. I know you're perfectly capable of handling yourself," Newt said, moving so they were in front of chairs before shoving Hermann down in one and sitting down in the other.
Hermann looked stubbornly away from him, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't need your help."
"Well that's just great for you because I need someone's help!" Newt was fully aware of the hysterical note in his voice but he was passed caring because this was the perfect chance to unload on someone who might understand. "You know what would be better? If they locked me in a steel cage and launched me into space. The Kaiju couldn't get me then, right?"
"Certainly not. You'd be dead without the proper precautions," Hermann said, tone sneering and snide.
"Har di har," Newt said, getting to his feet. "Why are you even down here?"
Hermann shifted uncomfortably in the chair, chin lifting a bit as he met Newt's eyes. "If you must know, I couldn't sleep so I figured I'd be productive so I can get out of this god forsaken place as soon as possible."
"Eager to get away from me?" Newt asked.
"Of course not! Just away from the memories and the Kaiju," Hermann muttered.
Newt froze. "Say that again."
"What?"
"You see it too, don't you? The Kaiju, in your head. Every time you close your eyes, they're there, waiting," Newt said, crouching down and grabbing the arms of the chair. "Your left eye. It's still bloodshot."
Hermann knocked him back. "Of course it is, so is yours!"
"That my point you idiot. We're still drifting, sorta, still connected to those damn things even if they're dead or in another dimension or whatever. Or maybe just with each other, I don't know."
"So what do you want from me then, Newton?" Hermann asked.
"I don't know," Newt said, voice strained. "But I can't do this alone anymore dude. Seriously..."
"I don't know how to help you," Hermann said. His own voice was trembling as he looked at Newt, his gaze more uncertain than Newt had ever seen before. "I don't know how to help myself."
"Fuck. Fuck. All of this sucks!"
Newt jerked back, rocking back up onto his feet and turning away, hands in his hair and tugging as he tried to calm himself down. He was dimly aware that he was making some sort of strained and panicked noise, but the next moment, he heard Hermann shuffling himself to his feet. Newt whirled around, every intention to order Hermann to sit back down but the next moment, Hermann's hands were cupping his jaw hard and he was yanked forward into a brutal kiss.
For a second or two, Newt's eyes went wide and he stared at Hermann, whose eyes were squeezed shut tight, his lips uncertain against Newt's. Then Newt relaxed, hands falling to his sides and then reaching forward to grab at Hermann's hips, tugging him closer and letting the other man put his weight against him. Something in his brain snapped back, like a joint that had been out of place.
"God didn't know I needed that," Newt mumbled against Hermann's lips.
"Me neither."
Hermann said. He pulled back and eased himself back down into the chair, but Newt couldn't help but follow the contact enough to sit on Hermann's lap, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, back against the other one. Hermann rolled his eyes.
"You are a child Newton."
"Don't ruin it Hermann. Just snuggle me, I know you want to."
Hermann huffed and wrapped his arms around Newt's shoulders. "So now what, genius?"
"I'm down for making out some more," Newt said.
Hermann looked like he was about to say something Newt wouldn't like, so Newt tugged him down into a biting kiss. Almost immediately, the anxiety Newt had felt building in his chest again vanished and he gave a groan of relief that Hermann echoed, hands tightening on Newt's shirt. It wasn't often that Newt got into heavy make out sessions without sex being the endgame, in fact he was pretty sure that had never happened, but just the feel of Hermann's lips on his was enough. And wasn't that terrifying?
"Dude, I really didn't expect you to be this good of a kisser," Newt said, licking his lips when he pulled back.
"I did go to college Newton," Hermann said.
"You're still a bit stuffy. But hey, I'm starting to like it. And you. Wanna go back to my place? To sleep I mean, actual sleeping because honestly I feel like I'm about to pass out but the thought of being away from you is also a bit nauseating," Newt said.
"That is possibly the most romantic thing anyone has said to me," Hermann said. "I find that idea agreeable."
"You know, that's just sad Hermann. I'll say lots of romantic things to you to make up for it," Newt said, swinging out of the chair and tugging Hermann up with him. He grabbed Hermann's cane and shoved it back into his hand, giving him a stern look as he did so. "No more of that I'm too macho crap. It's dumb and I want you to take care of yourself if what is going on between us is possibly going to be a thing."
"That sounds reasonable."
Newt clung a bit harder to Hermann's free hand than he wanted to admit on the way to first Hermann's room for spare clothes and then Newt's. And he may have watched unabashedly as Hermann changed, enjoying the flush on the man's cheeks when he was caught doing so. Hermann didn't say anything when Newt refused to take off his long-sleeved shirt, just giving him an understanding look before crawling into bed beside him.
The sense of peace he got from Hermann's skinny body, all sharp angles and bones, pressed up against his was still a bit startling. Sleep found him fast after that, and for the first time since K-Day he didn't have a nightmare.
-.-
It became a routine as the deadline for leaving the Shatterdome grew closer and closer. As Hermann packed his things, they ended up in a corner of Newt's room. Some nights they made out on Newt's bed until they were too tired to keep going, and sometimes they just passed right out as soon as they hit the mattress. Newt expected it to be weird, wanted it to be weird going from almost literal enemies to bed partners, but it wasn't.
The night before they were scheduled to leave the Shatterdome behind for good, head back to Germany and try starting their lives over, Hermann fucked him. But fucked was too harsh of a word, because it wasn't like that. It was wonderful, too passionate to ever be anything but making love, which in the end only made Newt even more nervous. The worry bubbled up inside him, getting worse and worse until finally they stepped off the plane and back onto German soil.
"Hermann, what are we doing?" Newt asked as they waited for their luggage to come through on the conveyor belt.
"Collecting our luggage," Hermann said.
"Oh come on, you know what I mean. What are we going to do?" Newt asked. "About each other. About this thing that is feeling more and more like something I don't want to stick a name to because that's terrifying."
"I was hoping, if you were not too against it, we could continue living together. I find the idea of being without you...disconcerting," Hermann said, refusing to look at him.
"Oh...good. I like that. I mean...you don't think we're sort of rushing this?" Newt asked.
Hermann laughed and then looked at him, shaking his head. "You of all people shouldn't be worried about that."
"Okay usually, sure, but this is serious," Newt said. "I actually care about you."
Hermann sobered up immediately. "Right. Well. Newton. We have drifted together. We find some peace together and that is truly a blessing. But we aren't better yet. We are still plagued by things we can't erase and I would rather face those things with you by my side than alone."
Newt felt a suspicious lump in his throat and he swallowed quickly, wiping at his burning eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. I agree. I mean, I'd...yeah."
"I'm sorry, I don't think I quite understood what you were saying," Hermann said.
"Eh, you'll figure it out. You've been in my head, and scientifically speaking the more time we spend together the more we understand each other," Newt said.
"Newton, that's true among all people, whether or not they've drifted," Hermann said.
"Right. Let's be normal people Hermann," Newt said, grabbing Hermann's hand in his own.
Hermann smiled. "Yes. Let's."