Chapter Text
In the ten years Newton Geiszler had worked alongside Hermann Gottlieb, he was never convinced that his colleague had much resembling a personal life beyond serving at Mass three times a week, arguing with his father in pitched German over SkypeRED, and cleaning every surface until it shone. Twice. And, okay, sure, Rubix cubes and Russian literature and baking pies, because Hermann was boring and stuffy like that. But these were hobbies, lifestyle choices, and a more than slightly dysfunctional family headed by a man who probably would have just loved Andre Maginot. Not at all what Newt thought of as a personal life—which meant, basically—
“Sex,” he said to himself.
And then realized he’d said it out loud.
In the laboratory. That he shared with Hermann.
With Hermann sitting at his computer no less than ten feet away.
He didn’t even have to look up to imagine his colleague raising his head and scowling even more than he usually did before shaking his head. “Newton, I can appreciate the need for talking to oneself more than anyone, but there’s no need to be vulgar.”
Aaand this would be one of the reasons why dicing apples was probably the most erotic thing Hermann would ever do. “Dude, what?” Newt laughed. “Sex is only vulgar if you were born in, like, 1950.”
“Yes, well, I’d prefer to keep it out of my laboratory, thank you. We’ve enough”—Hermann gestured errantly with his left hand—“biology in here as it is.”
Biology. Yeah. Guy probably didn’t know his cock from chalk. Actually, no. On second thought, ow. “Whatever,” he snorted. “And since you’re just going to write me up for this anyway, here, let me make it worth your time. Sex, sex, sexity, sex, sex, sex. Bam! Vulgarity report fifty percent complete. Just add whining. And ugly cursive.”
Sighing, Hermann pulled his cane from the stand to the right of his chair and levered himself to his feet. “Unfortunately, human resources has yet to act upon a single grievance I have filed, as you are no doubt well-aware. Like the rest of this Shatterdome, they probably find your antics amusing. And in any case,” he said as he walked toward the door, “I haven’t the time.”
“But it’s only 1700—they’re open ’til 1800 on a Friday,” Newt said, sliding his feet up onto his desk and slouching back. “Just take a tea break and go down there for like ten minutes. No one’s gonna be in there this late except people with no lives, like you.”
“Yes, well. Perhaps tonight I have something better to do.” Hermann didn’t turn around as he slipped into his parka; his left trembling hand fumbled the zipper twice before he managed to pull it to his collar.
Newt shook his head. “Tendo cancelled LOCCENT vs. K-Science Extreme Mario Kart night until he could even out the roster now that everyone in K-Science but us is fired.” Then again, it wasn’t like Hermann ever did anything to actually win those nights for K-Sci; he usually just huddled in his parka on the sofa while hogging the Diet Sprite and looking vaguely uncomfortable at anything that wasn’t a quadratic equation when it tried to initiate a conversation with him. Newt knew it was a dick thing to think, but he kind of wondered why Hermann had kept showing up when he was obviously not having fun. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t have a quieter evening in.
“Yes, I know,” his colleague said as he dug into his pockets and retrieved his gloves. “I have a matter in the city to which I must attend.”
“When you say ‘matter’ is that like a grocery shopping matter or an early Christmas present-finding matter or—?”
“A none of your concern matter? Indeed, it is, how astute of you.”
“Wait.” Newton glided off his chair and followed Hermann from their shared lab space. “An independent bookstore-hunting matter?”
“No.”
“A shopping for hentai matter?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“A going for a stiff drink because one more minute basically locked up in the Shatterdome means you’re going to kill us all with a slide ruler matter?”
“Good evening, Newton.”
Newt stopped in the middle of the hallway as the unthinkable occurred to him. “Waaaiiiit… Don’t tell me you’ve got a hot date?”
A joke. He’d meant it as a joke. Everyone knew that the closest thing to a romance Hermann had going was a long and torrid affair with Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem. But from the way Hermann paused there on the sterile gray tiles, Newt was reasonably certain he’d just solved for x.
“Really, Newton,” Hermann chuckled, throwing him a wry glance over one bony shoulder. “Now since when have you known me to be passionately in lust with anything save tira misu and the Tridentine Rite? It is merely mundane but essential business. Please don’t trouble yourself further with chimeras.”
“Uh…okay, but…”
“Have an enjoyable evening, Newton. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Bullshit. It was all such obvious bullshit. Newt wanted to tell him that, to run after his colleague and demand that he stop lying and tell him who the person was and why he couldn’t just say their name.
Instead, he just stood there fuming as Hermann walked away, his gate quick and steady in a way that meant he was having a low pain day and was definitely excited about something.
Newt stood there a long time.