Secret Skypes, yellow mugs, a gossip queen, Zen monks, and spoons

Chapter 9: Secret Skypes, yellow mugs, a gossip queen, Zen monks, and spoons
==Text==
Hermann hears the snorty breath Newt always takes as he wakes up as soon as he is conscious. Why do I know this about him? Hermann asks himself. I’ve probably noted it so I can avoid upsetting his sleep. His thoughts run in circles for several more seconds before Newt’s voice intrudes.
"You awake, sleeping beauty?" he asks. When Hermann doesn’t answer, he continues. "It’s no use, dude, I can tell by your breathing you’re up." Hermann offers his best long-suffering sigh and Newt accepts it as a positive response. "Great," he says cheerily. "So, can you, like, let go of me?"
"Oh. Right. Of course," Hermann stammers. He quickly pulls back the arm with which he had snugly encircled Newt’s waist. As Newt separates himself, slipping out from underneath his wing, Hermann buries his face in the pillow.
"Sorry, Hermann. I’d love to stay and cuddle, but it’s really important I Skype this guy in a couple of minutes. From, uh, my room. So, I-I’ll see you later. Bye!" Newt delivers the entire monologue in a single breath as he stuffs himself into the previous day’s clothes. He slips out the door and locks it after himself.
Hermann remains face down and unmoving for a few minutes, before pushing himself up and shuffling about his morning routine. As he prepares for the day, he resigns himself to the conviction the first morning he and Newt woke up simultaneously is likely one of the last they will wake up together.
After a lonely mess hall breakfast, Hermann pushes himself down the halls to Tendo Choi's office. As always, the space smells of coffee with a faint undertone of pomade. Hermann knocks politely on the open door with the handle of his cane. "May I bother you for a moment, Mister Choi?"
"It's only 'Mister' when the little people are around; You know that," Tendo says through a friendly smile. "Grab a coffee, Hermann. The yellow mug’s cleanest. I've missed chatting with you the last week or so."
Hermann pauses in front of the neat row of mugs next to Tendo's personal coffee maker. "Tendo, I am unable to tell items apart by color. Everything is a shade of gray to me," he says apologetically.
"Crap. Sorry, man. I forgot. It’s second from the left." He props his feet on his desk, carefully avoiding the framed picture of his wife and son, as Hermann lowers himself into a seat. "So, what’s going on between you and our dear Doctor Geiszler, brother?" Tendo waggles his eyebrows.
Hermann looks genuinely confused. "I’m not sure what you’re talking about."
"Scuttlebutt is you two have set up housekeeping together," Tendo prompts.
Hermann stares open-mouthed in surprise before recovering with a small smile. "Ah. Tendo Choi, gossip queen of the PPDC."
"I see and hear all that goes on in this ‘Dome. Spill."
"Oh. Well, yes, we've been sharing my quarters recently." Hermann swirls his coffee and studies the wave patterns that form on the surface. "I'm told a desire for closeness is a normal, temporary phenomenon between Drift partners, especially after traumatic experiences."
Tendo drops his feet back to the floor and leans across the desk to peer more closely at Hermann. "That's what you're telling yourself is going on? If that's all you think it is, you're missing something."
"Kindly save me from my ignorance, Mister Choi," Hermann replies as he bristles defensively.
"Newt is way into you," Tendo says. He adds earnestly, "Romantically."
"You jest." Hermann sounds simultaneously shocked and offended.
"J-Tech’s honor," Tendo says as he makes the ‘live long and prosper’ gesture. "The two most oblivious guys in LOCCENT have noticed. It’s that obvious."
"I don’t believe you."
"Of course you don’t." Tendo rolls his eyes. "You’re still convinced I hate you."
Hermann drops his eyes to his mug again and blushes a little. "I don’t think you hate me, Tendo. I am … unsure of your motives in talking to me."
"You keep thinking that no matter how many times I tell you I actually like talking to you. It’s been eight years, man! You’re a lot cooler than you give yourself credit for. Anyone that can jam on Doctor Who like you can is clearly good friend material," he says. He pauses a moment. "Nice try distracting me, by the way. We’re talking about you and Newt, here. I think the little guy finally realizes how much you mean to him. Took him long enough," Tendo chuckles. "Seriously, Hermann. I think he’ll follow you wherever you want to go. He’s in deep."
"At least until something better comes along," Hermann mumbles while he plays with the cuffs of his blazer, tugging them farther down over his wrists.
"Hey. Hermann. Newt’s not Darja, okay?" Tendo grabs Hermann’s forearm and shakes it a little. "The two of you have been joined at the hip for five years."
"As colleagues!"
Tendo holds up a hand for quiet. "You’ve been inseparable for five years and friends, more or less, for the entire war. He’s been in your head, man. If he’s getting serious now, he knows exactly what he’s getting. He’ll be patient with you."
"That man doesn’t know the definition of ‘patience’ or ‘delayed gratification’," Hermann grumbles.
"Maybe not in general, but you’re a special case for him," Tendo offers. "He’ll wait."
Hermann’s voice and expression are skeptical. "What makes you so sure of that?" he asks.
"Woman’s intuition," Tendo says and winks, causing Hermann to raise an eyebrow. "Seriously, man. I talked to him a few days ago and I’ve been watching him. All the signs are there."
"You talked to him? About me?"
Tendo raises his hands in mollification. "We talked about him and what he was thinking. Since he’s still attached to you like a fuzzy, nearsighted limpet," Hermann snorts a laugh at the image and Tendo grins back at him, "his seriousness passes the Tendo Choi test. If you’re at all interested you should let him know."
"Tendo, what do you think of Newton, honestly?" Hermann asks softly, studying his nearly empty coffee.
Tendo leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head in a relaxed, thoughtful pose. "He's brilliant and good looking—if you like 'em small and cute. He's also mostly an asshole with his foot perpetually in his mouth, a habit of acting without thinking first, and is undermedicated for bipolar disorder. But, aside from you and Stacker Pentecost, I've never seen a guy fight longer and harder for what he believes in. If you can stand him, he's a guy you want at your side."
"Thank you. I'll think over what you've said. Thank you for the coffee as well." Hermann stands and turns to leave.
"Hermann, remember; He's not her," Tendo says quietly. "You need to cut yourself a break. Other people don't think the same nasty things about you you think about yourself. You don't have some deep dark secret. You're another guy who survived a messed-up childhood with a few issues, just like a lot of us."
Hermann nods and limps out, headed for the lab.
He retires early, his broken wing aching, likely because he refused to take an extra dose of painkillers that afternoon. He changes into his pajamas and unwraps his wings. With a sigh, he stretches both to their full reach, the tips of his primaries touching the walls on either side. The right twitches slightly as he holds it open after having restrained it for so long. 
Hermann assumes his usual position at his desk, picks up his tablet to read the manuscript he’d been asked to peer review, and slips on his glasses, as he always does when reading or doing close work. He settles into a rhythm of reading and gently moving his wings, the twinge in the injured one slowly easing out with continued use.
Several hours pass before Newt signals his return with a knock at the door. Hermann doesn’t bother to fold his wings or turn around. "I suppose this qualifies as seeing me ‘later’," Hermann snarks.
"Sorry, dude, the negotiations took a bit longer than either of us thought," he says with a shrug. Hermann grunts and continues working. Newt perches on the foot of the bed and Hermann can feel the pressure of Newt’s stare on his back. 
"Newton, I know it is a professional habit for you to examine other lifeforms, but I am not one of your specimens and I resent being mentally dissected like one," he growls.
Newt opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before speaking. "It’s only about twenty percent professional curiosity and the rest is personal interest," he says. He hesitates, then continues. "You know, you’re a different person in here than you are outside."
"Oh?" Hermann finally turns and looks over his glasses at the other man.
"You’re all twitchy out there. Hands, feet, eyebrows, mouth, something always has to be moving. You’re almost as bad about it as me." Hermann scoffs. "I’m serious, dude. I’ll record you someday so you can see."
"Over my dead body, Newton."
"Yeah, yeah. We both know that’s an empty threat. It’s like you take off your shirts and you’re suddenly a Zen monk. Serene. Look at your hands now."
Hermann sets down the tablet, removes his glasses, and holds one hand out in front of himself, palm facing the floor. "It’s not shaking," he says with a note of wonder in his voice. He shifts his gaze to Newt. "I thought the tremor was permanent."
"Nope! You relax and it goes away." Newt pauses and cocks his head. "You can probably actually relax now because someone knows you and you’re still okay." He grins.
"So this is all. Your. Fault," Hermann says, enunciating each word carefully and looking at his steady hand. Newt’s protest cuts off with a squeak as Hermann suddenly stands up and hugs him tightly.
"Thank you, Newt," he whispers.
Newt eases his arms under Hermann’s wings and returns the embrace. "You’re very welcome, Hermann."
Hermann breaks away first, stepping back and retaking his place in the chair. Newt watches him, catches himself gazing a little too intently, and begins clumsily unbuttoning his shirt. "You ready to call it a night?" he finally asks.
"I need to finish reviewing two more pages," Hermann answers.
"Cool. Let me give you your evening check up while you do that, then we can turn in. I’m beat." Hermann sniffs and continues working while Newt runs his hand along the leading edge of Hermann’s right wing, feeling for sore spots and checking the edges of the fracture are still healing properly. As Newt repeats the motion more gently, Hermann shivers and his wing flutters delicately. Newt slides his fingers through the column of down along Hermann's spine. 
Hermann shudders. "Please don't do that, Newton. I find the sensation unpleasant."
"Oh. Sorry, dude," Newt apologies.
Wing resecured and work finished for the night, they climb into bed. Without thinking, Hermann covers Newt with his wing. He feels the last of the day’s tension drain away as a tattooed arm drapes itself over his back.
"My turn to be the big spoon," Newt mumbles sleepily and it takes every bit of restraint Hermann has not to laugh out loud.
==Meta==
About Hermann’s eyesight in this part. I haven’t changed much from the film. In the movie, Hermann only puts his glasses on when he has to look at a screen. He can’t see well close up. He’s farsighted. Newt only takes his glasses off twice. When he loses them in the refuge, he can’t see far enough in front of himself to find them and has to feel around. He’s nearsighted. Another way these two are opposite. Together, maybe they have 20/20 vision. Actually, since together they ‘see’ the answer to closing the Breach, maybe this is another layer duality built into the movie. Even if it’s accidental, it’s great.
All I did this time around was strip his color vision. Owls have trouble with color because their eyes are dominated by the color-free, night vision-enhancing receptor cells. That said, we’ll talk a little more about his vision later.
Fun fact: When this story first expanded past the initial installment, the ‘thank you’ exchange near end of this chapter was the close of the tale. Now it’s only an incident in the middle.
I’ve already scrapped the ending I wrote next. Which means, as of right now, there’s no end in sight for this fic. Rejoice or be afraid!
Remember, I’m always open to questions about this Hermann and his world, so if you have one, please drop a comment or let me know at my Tumblr. Some more of those submitted questions have been worked into this part.
ETA (2-2-14): To address potential confusion and nervousness over the identity of the person Tendo compares to Newt while talking to Hermann, I gave her a name. Originally, Tendo said ‘her’ twice.
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