Routine, fatherhood, fires, and sparrows

Chapter 28: Routine, fatherhood, fires, and sparrows
==Text==
===28.1===
When early morning light leaking around the curtains wakes him, Hermann rubs sleep from his eyes with the hand not pinned under Newt's pillow. He squints at the clock on the bedside table. "Newt, it's time to get up." He nudges his bedmate with his trapped elbow.
"No," Newt grumbles.
"Yes. We are not paid to laze about in bed all day."
"Not yet," Newt whines.
Hermann pokes him again. "Aren't you expecting your first shipment of plants this morning? In about five minutes, in fact?"
"Uhh … I don't thi—yeah!" Eyes wide open, Newt snaps upright—Hermann barely jerks his wing out of the way—"I gotta go!"
"Don't forget to change!" calls Hermann.
"Late late late!" Newt flies from the room before Hermann can tuck his wings comfortably against his back.
Hermann follows at a much more leisurely pace, listening with a faint smile to Newt trying and failing to simultaneously dress and descend the stairs.
Hot water sings from the shower as Hermann steps inside. He opens his wings to nearly their full span before his primaries brush the walls. The warmth massages the lingering travel soreness from his muscles and he sighs contentedly. He delicately flutters off the droplets which collected on his feathers and steps out, carefully watching his footing on the tile.
The front door slams and frantic shouting fades as its source moves rapidly away.
Hermann shakes his head and opts for the stairs on his way to the kitchen, comfortable in his sweater, glasses around his neck, and tablet under his arm.
He fixes a quick breakfast, setting aside a second serving for Newt, and skims his email and the world news headlines while he eats. When Marvin the Timer sighs that his tea is properly steeped, he collects his mug and moves on to his workspace.
Before long, Hermann relaxes into a steady rhythm of coding at his chalkboards. Rows and rows of letters, numbers, and symbols quickly fill the surface as the first customizations to the basic hydrological modeling software his employers provided take shape. He covers half a wall before he resurfaces to sip lukewarm tea and listen to the birdsong floating through the open window.
It is only my second day of work and this is already routine. He shrugs to rearrange his wings under their binding, seeking a more comfortable position for them. I quite like this life.
Hermann fills another several feet before Newt arrives with porters hauling a small forest of potted plants into his greenhouse lab. Newt loudly chastises the workers for failure to take proper care of the 'delicate' samples. With them, Hermann rolls his eyes, but unlike them, he smiles, too.
"Everything as it should be," he murmurs and continues working.
===28.2===
Early in the afternoon, Hermann's tablet chimes.
He leans on the edge of his desk, both hands gripping the tablet and cane clattering to the floor, as he reads the message.
No matter what you may think, old man, we'd bond with you in a heartbeat. We don't care that you are what you are; we love you regardless, even if you do not think that our affections are yours to have.
Newt materializes in the doorway, small shrub in hand. "You okay, dude?"
"I'm fine."
"Yeah. Of course. You always need two hands to hold your tablet. Why don't we put you on the couch for a minute anyway."
Newt leaves his plant on the desk and Hermann allows him to take his arm and tow him to the sofa.
"Don't leave that there," Hermann barks. "It will mar the finish."
Newt rolls his eyes, but shifts the pot to the floor before dropping onto the cushion next to Hermann.
"What's on there that's got you so worked up?" Newt leans against Hermann's shoulder to get a view of the tablet screen.
Hermann gestures to close the email, but not quickly enough to prevent Newt from reading the address information.
Newt jumps to his feet and tries to loom over him. "'To Dad?' 'Dad?' 'Dad?!' You have a kid? Or kids? What the fuck, Hermann! How did you keep that secret?!"
"It's not what you think."
"Of course it's not!" He throws his hands up dramatically. "I wouldn't expect a traditionalist like you to say anything else! Jesus Christ! Do you tell me anything? You secretly a serial killer? Or a CIA agent? Is that why it's so easy for you to break into my accounts? INTERPOL maybe?"
"Newton. Give me a moment to explain." Hermann gazes calmly up at Newt. "Sit down."
Newt slumps, but crosses his arms over his chest.
"The personal message you saw comes from one of my 'hacker buddies.' They are much younger than I, but we are not related by blood." Newt sputters and Hermann continues over him. "I am more of a … mentor—a father figure—to the group."
"Uh huh. That's still damn creepy, dude. Like, none of my grad students ever called me 'Dad.'"
"Most of your grad students were your age or older."
"Irrelevant."
"I believe it is highly relevant."
"This age crap is beside the point. You've been hiding these guys—and their weird nickname for you, if that's really what it is—from me, even though you've got them breaking into government records, supposedly on my behalf. You need to trust me, Hermann. We're in this together."
Hermann's lips thin. "I do not trust your ability to keep vital secrets."
Newt stands up and starts to pace, waving his arms. "Where's your evidence? I haven't spilled any secrets! I didn't tell the UN what you and I did! I haven't told anyone about you! Hell, I haven't even told anyone we're sleeping together! What more do you want from me?!"
"I want you to stop yourself before discussing my childhood at the top of your voice in the UN building!"
"That was almost a month ago! You're first complaining now?" Newt throws up his hands. "How have I put up with this crap for five years? I'm a fucking saint!"
Hermann begins a reply, but Newt shouts over him.
"Oh, that's right! We were co-workers for those years. Now we're partners. The rules are different now. You need to trust me! If I don't know, I can't help you!"
Hermann's voice is icy. "Are you quite finished?"
Newt matches Hermann's glare.
"I repeat: I. Do. Not. Need. Help. Partner or not, I am capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. There's no reason for you to know everything about me."
"I can give you a very, very good reason. We are alone with each other on this island, Hermann. If something goes wrong I'm the only backup you've got. And you're all I've got. For better or worse, we need to be on the same page; know what the other is hiding under his sweater."
"Or under his borrowed t-shirt."
"What?" Newt looks down at himself.
"That's my Striker Eureka shirt. Have you finally forgiven Chuck Hansen for knocking you unconscious at the Academy?"
"Dude, I've forgiven Chuck Hansen for everything. Kid saved us all." Newt flops back onto the couch.
"He deserved better," Hermann says quietly.
"No shit. All the Rangers did. Saved us and deserved better." Newt rubs his eyes. "There's no chance 'Codename: Striker' is actually the kid writing from a beach somewhere, is there?"
Hermann shakes his head.
Newt sighs and slouches lower. "So who is he, then?"
"To whom do you refer?" Hermann picks up his tablet from where it slipped between the couch arm and cushion and fidgets with it.
"Don't play dumb. I'm not buying it. Who's 'Striker?'"
"Striker is a friend from Sydney and a very skilled navigator of computer and communications networks."
"Who just happens to call you 'Dad.'"
"Yes."
"I guess that's less weird than little Hansen calling you 'Dad.'" Newt gives his head a shake. "Seriously, Hermann. We need to trust each other. We're not gonna survive out here if we don't work together." He grins nervously. "I really don't feel like dying anytime soon, dude."
Hermann offers a small smile. "Nor do I." He squares his shoulders and sits up straighter. "I suppose there's nothing for it. I'll have to trust you. Don't make me regret this."
"You do your part and I'll do mine." Newt stands and offers Hermann a hand up. "I'm starving. Let's try out one of those recipes your buddy sent for lunch. I'll cook."
Hermann rises and straightens his jumper. "I'll man the extinguisher."
"May I remind you, Smokey, of whom created chicken en flambé last night?" Newt tosses over his shoulder as they walk to the kitchen.
Hermann sniffs. "There was an error in the recipe."
"You mean there was an error in the way you read the recipe."
"It was a simple mistake," Hermann mumbles.
"I guess there's nothing simpler than an open flame. Too bad you were aiming for something more complex."
Hermann growls.
===28.3===
At the end of the day, which they reach without fire, Hermann gratefully sheds his layers and several feathers.
"Damn moult," he grumbles, bending a wing around his side to better scratch under his secondaries, and a handful drift to the floor. Hermann sighs and stares balefully at the feathers on the carpet
"Dude!" gasps Newt.
Hermann startles.
"You're honestly moulting! This is freakin' cool!" Newt bounces across the room and buries his fingers in Hermann's feathers. He vigorously itches a spot near the one Hermann chose. "Triggered by spring light, right? Oh. We're going into winter here. Is your system going to get messed up? We need to keep you under lights! Otherwise you probably won't shed evenly and be itchy and grumpy all year." He seizes a tablet and begins searching. "Full-spectrum lights ... high intensity bulbs ... light boxes. Man, I hope we don't blow fuses running all of these. You might be a little ragged by the time we get you on the right schedule, but that's better than itchy, right? And, here, check this out!" He tosses the tablet on the bed and fishes something from a drawer in the bedside table. "A special feather comb animal rehab people use on raptors! I bet this will get down to the roots and give you a good scratch. I've got a whole box of stuff like this to try on you. Combs, brushes, dry shampoo, and leave-in feather conditioner."
Hermann blinks. "You did all of that? For me?"
"Yeah. No one's ever taken the time to care for your wings properly. Ever. That's gotta change. It's a matter of health. Now that you're out here with actual birds, you might pick up parasites or other problems if we don't keep an eye on things."
"I-I hadn't thought of that."
"That's because you've spent a lifetime trying to hide these beauties or get rid of them, not to mention hiding inside. That's gonna change, too. Now's when we start learning to really take care of them. Keeping 'em healthy might take some of the stress off your system, too."
"Ah, yes."
Newt crosses the room and pulls out the reading desk chair. "So take a seat and let's get started!" He gestures to chair with a welcoming flourish.
Hermann obliges and rests, smiling and purring, as Newt methodically works through his feathers with the raptor comb. "You were right, " Hermann slurs. "This feels wonderful. Thank you, Spatzchen."
Newt pauses. "'Spatzchen?'"
"It means 'little sparrow.' You twitter like one."
Newt snorts and resumes brushing.
Hermann nods off before Newt finishes, still in the chair.
==Meta==
The note that flusters Hermann so badly can be read in its entirety as Chapter 5 of "Island Messages" and was written by Gothams_Only_Wolf.
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