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Hermann suppresses a sigh and tucks a bookmark into his novel when a group of three students (all from his classes, but only one who he's familiar with from the additional library study group he hosts) comes streaming through his classroom door. It's his after-school office hours, but he'd also been right in the middle of a particularly enjoyable re-read of Pride and Prejudice. He sets the soft-backed book on the wooden desktop in front of him and sits straighter in his chair.
"Ah, Mr. Tylers. How may I help you...?"
"Doctor Gottlieb!" The young man he knows from his study group–Matthias Tylers–addresses him without hesitation. The rest of his group looks slightly less eager. "You know that senior Prom's at the end of the week, yeah?" he asks with a grin that Hermann can only place as mischievous. Hermann gives the student a thoughtful gaze before responding.
"Yes, I am quite aware–there are no lack of posters advertising the event lining the hallways."
"And you wouldn't happen to already have someone lined up for it, would you?" Tylers' grin stretches further, and Hermann raises an eyebrow.
"No, I wasn't planning on attending."
"Great–so like, you know Mr. Newt–"
"Yes, I am quite well acquainted with Dr. Geiszler–"
"Yep, knew that. Anyways, you're dating him for Prom." Tylers' scheming expression doesn't falter, and Hermann has to stop himself from gaping.
"I'm–Pardon?"
"You're going to Prom, and Mr. Newt is going as your date. He already agreed. Talk to him about it. That's all, I'll see you tomorrow!" Tylers spins around to walk out of the classroom, and the other two students that had followed him give Hermann a wary look before scuttling after him, making loud exclamations once they’re in the hallway. Hermann's eyebrows furrow before he lets out a long, weary sigh and sits back in his chair again.
"Right, then," he says to the empty rows of desks. It's not that he hates Dr. Geiszler, as much as most of his students (and possibly the student body as a whole) seems to believe. The man simply drives him mad at the best of times, and they really just aren't compatible in any sense of the word (well–aside from intellect, he supposes, though to get him to admit to anyone other than himself that he has yet to hold any properly stimulating conversations with the other faculty aside from one Newton Geiszler would be quite a feat, indeed). Geiszler holds a German club in the library at the same time as Hermann's math groups, and he's continually infuriated by everything Geiszler does. Word pronunciation, word choice, the way he writes on a whiteboard with all capital letters. It's all Hermann can do to not escalate into screaming matches with his fellow staff member twice a week.
(They had gotten into a screaming match, once. But only once. Hermann is rather terrified of the principal and, after realising his luck in not getting properly disciplined over screaming at his co-worker in the school parking lot while there were students around, he has made a distinct effort to not get into such a situation again.)
Hermann is just rather unsure about how well they'd be able to maintain friendly faces as a couple on top of that. Being together for a whole evening, and only because a few students asked them to... Hermann shakes his head with another sigh and picks up his novel again. He'll tell Tylers that he's unable to attend when he sees him in class again on Wednesday, and he won't have to worry about it again. If it had been any other student, he would assume that it had been nothing but a petty prank, anyways. He's just pulled his paper bookmark from between the worn pages of his book when the door creaks open again. He's about to voice his decision aloud when he realises that Mr. Tylers is not, in fact, the one at the door this time.
"Dr. Geiszler," Hermann greets him with a tight nod.
"Still just Newt, my man. Hey, did Matthias Tylers talk to you about Prom yet?" Geiszler asks, with a grin unsettlingly similar to Tylers' just a few minutes ago. Hermann sighs (there's an awful lot to sigh about this afternoon) and nods, getting to his feet with the aid of his desktop.
"Yes, though I think–"
"I think the idea's fuckin' hilarious," Geiszler says before Hermann can properly get a word out. "Uh. Pardon my French, and all that. Anyways, I'm totally down, sounds like a great change from sitting silently behind the refreshment table all night," he laughs lightly. "We can talk about something other than my abysmal pronunciations for once!"
"Well, that's really not how you would pronounce–"
"Look, dude, I'm really not here to argue over regional pronunciation differences for the fiftieth effing time. What's the verdict on Prom shit?"
Hermann gives him a long, hard look. "Fine. I will consider, though I should... discuss it with Vanessa first." Geiszler eyes him thoughtfully, then nods.
Vanessa is more of an excuse to escape the conversation than anything else. She's been his best friend since university, and they had agreed to enter a relationship of convenience a few years ago–both of them are very, very gay, and while Hermann only needed an excuse for his father to get off his back regarding relationships, Vanessa has been seeing Hermann's sister (Karla) for the majority of their staged relationship. Lars has yet to put the two and two together, so as far as disguises are concerned, their status as living together is doing its job. And, well–if it gets him out of a few extra situations, he's certainly not complaining. He has yet to specifically call her his partner outside of very tense family dinners, and if anyone misconstrues her to be anything more than a friend then that's on them.
"Yeah, sure, that's cool. I don't have nice clothes up and ready, though, so you'll need to tell me by like, tomorrow, so I have time to get something ready. You can text me about it, or something–here, do you have my number?" Geiszler plucks a pen from Hermann's desk organiser and scrawls his cellular number and "Newt!" with a smiley face across a post-it note (also from Hermann's desk). "Anways, I'm technically supposed to be monitoring some students right now so I've gotta get back to my classroom. See you!"
"Auf wiedersehen," Hermann mutters, peeling the post-it note from the stack and studying it closer. The man's handwriting is scratchy–he's written his name with all capital letters, which is still something that pains Hermann every time he lays eyes on Geiszler's handwriting.
Hermann runs a hand through his undercut and checks his watch. One hour until he's due to board the bus home. He picks up his book and starts where he'd left off.
"Hermann! I thought you'd never get home!" Vanessa's voice greets Hermann before he gets the door closed, and he quirks an eyebrow while he slips off his shoes.
"I told you I would be staying an hour and a half afterwards today, as I do every Monday." He hears a harumph from the main room and shakes his head in mild amusement as he walks down the hallway. Vanessa is sitting by herself on their olive-green couch, typing something on her phone. "No Karla today?"
"No, she got caught up with something at work," Vanessa responds without looking up.
"...I don't suppose you're letting her get too caught up in whatever it is?" Hermann asks with a faint smile, glancing at her phone screen as he passes behind the couch. The contact header for the text conversation she's carrying reads Karlie <3 <3.
"Nope!" Vanessa beams, standing up to follow Hermann into the kitchen. "We doing leftovers today, Doc? Calling something in? It's kinda late." Hermann hums and opens the fridge, and feels subsequently annoyed at the discovery that they don't have any leftovers from the weekend.
"Seeing as there aren't leftovers to speak of and I'm not particularly in the mood for whatever greasy takeout you've got planned, I'll cook… rice, or some such."
"Cool! I'll watch."
Vanessa settles on a stool and continues to type on her phone while Hermann putters around the small kitchen (there's barely enough room for one person to work) and they discuss whatever comes to mind.
"One of my students came to visit me during my office hours," Hermann starts absently while rinsing a colander of rice. "They brought with them quite the fascinating proposal." Vanessa hums in interest. "You know how the highschool's Prom is at the end of the week? They asked me if I would attend with Dr. Geiszler as my date!" Hermann scoffs. "Surely you remember–"
"Geiszler!" Vanessa cuts in with a laugh, looking at Hermann delightedly. "You mean the guy you gaze lovingly at from across the library twice a week?"
"Vanessa! I do no such thing!" Hermann snaps. "He couldn't use an appropriate level of voice if the heavens themselves chided him. I can't stand the man, but he's simply not ignorable."
"The only reason someone would talk about someone else so much is if they have a crush on them," Vanessa teases. Hermann levels her with a long glare, and she snorts and leans her elbows on the counter. "One of these days he's going to ask you out for dinner or something, and I'll have called it." Hermann throws an oven mitt at her, and she shrieks when it narrowly misses her head. "Alright! God, I'll leave it for now, Doc. Anyways, they wanted you to go to a dance with him? Did you say yes? Hermann, please tell me you said yes, you never do anything fun."
Hermann chews his lip. "The students didn't give me much of a choice in the matter; though, Dr. Geiszler came to visit shortly after to ask about it, and I... Told him I would get back to him about it."
"Oh my god, Hermann, if you tell him no then I'm never letting this go." Hermann winces.
"I'm starting to realise my error in speaking to you about it," he mutters, covering the pan of rice. "I don't particularly desire another go at yelling at Geiszler in front of a group of students, you realise? I quite fancy keeping my job."
"Oh, like you can't keep a lid on your emotions at all other times," Vanessa scoffs and sticks her tongue out. "You, my dear boy, are the most emotionally repressed man I've ever met."
"So we've been over," Hermann mutters dryly.
"Besides, it's not like it's your regular meeting environment or whatever. Just don't talk about whatever you normally go on tirades about and you'll probably be fine, right? I believe in your ability to maintain a civil conversation, even if you don't. Also, you can literally just walk out if you need a breather. Or leave. No one will be keeping you there against your will."
"Well, you might."
Vanessa snorts. "Got me there, Doc. Look, I solemnly swear that if you call or text me halfway through asking for a ride home, I will come pick you up myself. I'll even tell Karla so we don't get distracted–"
"You will not tell Karla about this under any circumstances," Hermann hisses. "Your teasing is bad enough, I don't need my sister needling me about my relationships with my co-workers as well."
"Fine! But only–only–if you agree to go to Prom with Geiszler," she grins. Hermann produces a long, weary sigh.
"...I'll text him about it."
""Ohmygod he gave you his phone numb–"
"I'm agreeing only for the students, and only because I don't have any other choice against your blackmailing, Vanessa," Hermann cuts in. "I'm not going on a date with the man, we're simply going as... coworkers."
"Right."
"...Are you aware of how close I am to keeping my meal to myself? My sharing is with you is not actually required."
"Oh, fuck off–"
> Dr. Geiszler, this is Hermann Gottlieb. If the offer is still open, I've cleared my attending Prom at the end of the week.
NG: Oh shit rlly? cool!
NG: Shoot*
> We're both adults, I really don't mind harsher language outside of work.
> It’s not as though you do a fantastic job of censoring yourself during work hours, regardless.
NG: Shit, then :)
NG: I can drive, you just need to get yourself ready to go when it's time. 6:30 sound good?
> That sounds wonderful. Have a good evening, Dr. Geiszler.
NG: Still just Newt! But you too :)
By the time Friday rolls around, Hermann feels more antsy than he thinks the occasion really calls for–he's simply spending time with a coworker, it's not uncommon for people to do. What setting it's happening in is... irrelevant.
"Hermann!" He sighs at Vanessa's knocking–pounding–on his bedroom door. "Your date should be here soon! Are you ready yet? I want to get photos of you before you leave!" He can practically hear her grin.
"Yes, I'm ready," he mutters, tightening his tie. "I doubt Dr. Geiszler is going to be on time, anyways. He has quite the tendency to swoop into morning staff meetings seconds before they start, puffing like he's sprinted the whole way from the parking lot. We've got time." Hermann opens the door and cringes when Vanessa pulls him forcefully into the living room with her phone's camera pulled up.
"Must you really treat me like a child?"
"It's not like you ever went to one of these things as a kid–and don't argue with me on that–it's... It's exciting! You should be excited, Hermsie."
"Oh, for the love of–you aren't going to try and get Geiszler in here to take photos too, are you?" Vanessa gives him a look, and Hermann wrinkles his nose. "I'm not opening the bloody door if you so much as attempt to pull the man in here for Prom photographs. Honestly!" Vanessa sticks out her tongue as she runs her hand down the front of Hermann's suit jacket.
"Fine. I think it would've been fun, though."
"Hardly. You'd probably scare him off."
"That's assuming my shovel talk doesn't do the work for me."
"Vanessa–!" She snorts and steps back, holding up her phone.
"Alright, smile for me!"
"I'm not really sure I want to, anymore."
"You never wanted to, don't worry."
Hermann gives the lens a resigned grimace for a few seconds before a knock on the door sounds through their apartment, and Hermann takes the excuse to end Vanessa's photo session prematurely.
"Doctor Geiszler," Hermann greets him mildly when he opens the door.
"Hermann!" Geiszler beams at him, and Hermann has to take a moment to comprehend what he's seeing. He's got slacks and a white collared shirt on, as well as Doctor Marten boots, a charcoal-coloured bowtie with small cartoon dinosaurs printed on it, and the black, studded leather jacket that Hermann had seen him wearing to his classes on occasion. He bites his lip and glances back at Vanessa, who is scrambling to join him at the door. "I'm still Newt, by the way. Not Dr. Geiszler. Seriously dude, makes me feel old as hell."
"Er–I suppose, perhaps, just for the ni–"
"Are you the famed Doctor Geiszler?" Vanessa, who has finally reached the door, is forcing it open further so she can meet Hermann's companion for the night face-to-face. Hermann sighs.
"The one and only!" Geiszler–Newt–grins. "Newt, at your service." He holds out a hand for a handshake, but adjusts when Vanessa moves in for a hug. Hermann sighs deeper.
"Newt, huh?"
"Nickname. And you must be...?"
"Vanessa! I'm offended if Hermann hasn't brought me up yet, he can't stop talking about y–"
"Right, that's enough! Newt and I will be going, now, thank you Vanessa." Hermann pushes them both out the door before she can get out another word, and hustles Newt down the hall.
"Have fun! Don't stay out too late!" Vanessa calls after them, and Hermann rolls his eyes.
"I'm–quite sorry about her."
"Nah, dude, she's cool," Newt laughs. "It was nice! She's a bit different than I was expecting, I guess, but–opposites attract or something, yeah?"
Hermann glances at him as they board the elevator. "I suppose so."
When they arrive at the school, Newt makes a show of running around to open the car door for Hermann, and then grabs his arm on their way in. Hermann pauses in his steps as they near the double doors. If it were up to him, they would turn back around and leave the premises without setting a single foot inside the building. Unfortunately for Hermann he's not there alone, so it isn't exactly up to him.
Blasted school dances.
"You ever go to one of these before, Hermann?" Newt asks, scanning his badge at the door and leading him through the well-lit hallway. The gym is on the other side of the building, so they've a few minutes of walking ahead of them before they reach the dance. Walking, and pleasantries. At least Newt had been playing music in the car.
"I, ah, never did get the opportunity. I imagine you must have, though?"
"Nah, not really. Between being years younger than everyone and being the nerd with no friends, it kinda set me up to fail," Newt laughs, speaking it in a much lighter tone than Hermann would have. "I've been as a teacher, of course, but serving drinks alone at a table isn't exactly the experience you'd ascribe to a dance. I guess we're two grown men off for their very first Prom, then!"
"How... unfortunate," Hermann tries, but Newt snorts.
"Eh, I'll be honest, not really a fan of the dating scene back then anyways. At least this time we've got all our wits about us, yeah?" Newt pauses. "Not that, uh, not that this is a date."
“Yes, ah, of course.”
They walk in silence for some good thirty seconds after that, Hermann's nerves growing increasingly tight. His grip on his cane is growing increasingly tight, as well.
"So, how long have you and Vanessa known each other?" Newt finally asks as they near the doors of the gym.
"Oh, er–since our second year of college." Newt doesn't ask more questions, so after a few more seconds Hermann continues out of desperation to fill the empty void between them. "We were both studying maths, though Vanessa only as an aside to her filmography studies. We happened to have two classes together during that year."
"Oh, yeah? Who asked who out first?"
Hermann blinks. It's one of the first times someone has asked, in a forward manner, as to his and Vanessa's relationship. While they had gone on approximately two dates before concluding that neither of them were straight, it may not be wise to feed further into the illusion.
"Vanessa asked first, following one of our lectures."
If Newt really must know about the specifics of their relationship later on, it's not a lie anyways.
"Hmm. Yeah, that tracks." Newt doesn't elaborate, and they're suddenly surrounded by loud music and high-schoolers, so Hermann doesn't ask.
Hermann would regularly beeline for the darkest corner of the room when he was required to attend large events like this by his father, but today he's held back by his elbow being locked with Newt's as he walks towards the refreshments table instead. Newt ladles bright-red punch into two cups, offers one to Hermann, and then leads them back to a group of chairs before taking a drink.
Hermann takes a sip of his own and grimaces at the sickly sweet concoction. Newt catches his expression and laughs, lowering his cup to rest on his knee.
"Once we're done in here I've got something a little nicer to mix it with," he says with a wink, raising his cup into the air. "Water it down a little, if you know what I mean."
Hermann snorts. "Awful sugar drinks aside, I don't know if I can stand being here completely sober regardless," he mutters just loud enough to be heard over the music. They sit quietly for another few minutes, and Hermann is uncomfortably aware of the fact that he has never been to a dance and has no idea what he's supposed to do with himself.
"Mr. Newt!" The same trio of students that had burst into Hermann's room at the beginning of the week are suddenly approaching them, saving Hermann from his awful conversing skills, but this time dressed formally and with one holding a cup of the punch. Newt greets them with fist-bumps, and Hermann raises his eyebrows.
"Surprised you haven't murdered each other yet," says Matthias Tylers with a joking grin.
"Mm, we'll see how the night ends, Matthias," Newt says, downing the rest of his cup of punch and tossing the cup across the back of the room and into a trash bin.
"Well, you know, I just wanted to say that I figure it's not Prom if you haven't had a dance..." Tylers wiggles his eyebrows before walking away with a laugh and a shove to one of the friends he had been with. Hermann watches them walk away with a frown.
"The boy has a point, you know," Newt says, hopping to his feet. "Dance with me?" Newt holds out a hand and grins. Hermann gives him a pained smile and shakes his head, but Newt grabs his hand and tugs anyway. "Aw, man, come on–we're here, might as well get the full experience!"
"Oh, I don't know..." Newt gives Hermann a wide-eyed look that probably isn't nearly as convincing as he thinks it is, but it's... cute, in an odd way, so Hermann sighs and uses Newt's hand to stand up.
"One song, Geiszler."
"Aw, man, here I was thinking we'd graduated from the last names!" Newt grins, pulling Hermann a few feet away from their chairs so they won't bump into anything. It's only now that Hermann notices the music they're playing–it's slower, more suited for dancing with a partner.
"I suppose I can at least be thankful that I know how to dance to this, even if it's been quite a while since I've had to do so."
Newt raises his eyebrows. "Didja used to do ballroom, or something?"
Hermann hums and places his hands in position, guiding Newt's hand to his shoulder and trying not to pull away from the touch. His hands are warm and dry, with short, black-painted nails and a feeling of strength. It is, admittedly, not as bad as he expected.
"My father made me–all of his children–learn basic... manners," Hermann says, not sure how else to explain it. "He enjoyed bringing us with him to formal parties, for work and the like, and wanted to be sure we would behave well."
Newt makes a face as they start to move slowly. "Eugh. No offence, but I'd rather die than learn slow dances." They both wince and jump half a foot away from each other when Newt steps on Hermann's foot only moments after speaking. "Uh–yeah, figure one. I'd be shit at it anyways," he laughs when they reconvene, stepping a little slower this time.
"Mm, I don't think you can say that if you've never properly tried it," Hermann says. "Perhaps you just need a bit of practice."
Newt looks him straight in the eyes, and he suddenly feels incredibly close–Hermann can see the flecks of gold and brown mixed with the green of his irises. "Yeah?"
"I, ah, I dare say anyone could learn basic ballroom dances with a patient enough teacher," Hermann says, mentally yelling at his heartbeat to slow down.
"Like you?" Newt says with a light laugh to indicate that he's joking. Yet, Hermann can't bring himself to break his eye contact with Newt, and is starting to feel like he's drowning when the song ends and Newt releases his grip on both Hermann's shoulder and gaze. Hermann shakes himself and looks at the ceiling for a moment to ground himself before unsteadily walking back to their seats with a curious glance from Newt.
"You good, dude? Really that repulsed by the idea of dancing with me again?" Newt pokes, flipping his chair around and sitting on it backwards so he can prop his elbows on the backrest.
"No, I'm quite alright–though, er, we might step outside for a few minutes, if you're not opposed," Hermann says with a swallow. The music suddenly feels like a little too much, and he's starting to think the alcohol that Newt had alluded to earlier may be a welcome change of pace.
"You ready for that punch upgrade?" Newt says with a sly look, standing up and offering Hermann an arm. Hermann hesitates, but decisively takes it despite his leaping stomach. Newt takes two empty cups from the punch table as they pass, but doesn't fill them (much to Hermann's relief).
"You know, this is the first time I'm not just guarding the refreshment table from people trying to spike the drinks," Newt says as they push out of the school doors and into the refreshingly chilly night. "Kinda nice to be able to just leave without worrying about cleaning up," he snorts. He quiets until they reach his car and he unlocks it to feel around the dark back seat, but the silence feels more comfortable than before.
"Not to, like, gossip about our co-workers, but they kinda ignore me at events, so I end up doing shit while they all stand around in the hallway. High school really doesn't ever change, even if you're working there," Newt chuckles, before making an exclamation and pulling out a can of what Hermann thinks is beer.
"I suppose I can't disagree," Hermann replies shortly, preferring not to think about his high school experience in depth.
"Do you always bring alcohol to school events?" he redirects after a moment. Newt pauses, blinks at him, and then snickers.
"Nah. Kinda wish I could! But I don't exactly have someone with me most of the time, and, like, let's be honest, drinking alone in your car in a school parking lot just feels like a bad idea. No, I save the solitary drinking for home, this is just a special occasion."
Newt pours their drinks into the (admittedly tiny) punch cups, throws the empty can in the back of the car ("Shouldn't have more than one anyways if I'm driving us, yeah?"), and hops onto the hood of the sedan before beckoning Hermann to do the same.
"Y’know, you're not that bad when you're not screaming about the merits of blackboards over whiteboards," Newt laughs between sips, and Hermann chokes around his drink.
"Newton Geiszler, Jove, that was one time." Newt grins at him and Hermann looks away to take a bigger swig, enjoying the warm feeling and the slight dampening of his stomach butterflies.
"I suppose," Hermann sighs after a few seconds, "That you're not awful either." Newt whoops and throws a hand in the air, making Hermann laugh quietly. A thought pops into his head, and he knows immediately that he has to act on it before being able to think about it, or he'll never act on it at all.
"Newt, erm," he starts, already slightly regretting it, "I was wondering, if..." Newt looks at him expectantly, and Hermann takes a deep breath. "Would you like to go, ah, get dinner, sometime? An, er–continuation, let's say, of this."
Newt gives him a long, thoughtful stare.
"Like a, uh, a date? Don't you have Vanessa? Is it… open, or something?"
Hermann winces.
"Vanessa and I, well, we aren't actually..." God, he should have just come clean at the beginning of the night. "To tell you the truth, we just live together. We haven't dated since, well, that second year of university. It's mostly just to keep my father off of my... scent, so to speak."
A grin slowly lights up across Newt's face with the realisation. "Oh my god. You're kidding. That's–so fucking funny. Holy shit!" He lays back against the car. "The Doctor Hermann Gottlieb, in a fake relationship so no one realizes he's gay." Newt shifts. "You really got me, man. I totally thought I was dancing with a straight dude."
Hermann huffs and finishes his beer before setting his cup down. "Yes, well, that was the point. You get awful amounts of people judging you for being sans relationship at this age, and Vanessa... well, it was an arrangement of convenience for both of us."
Newt laughs again, glancing between Hermann and the dark sky above them. "Well, there you go." He sits up. "So, dinner then, huh?"
Hermann looks away.
"If I'm not so awful as you thought, I figure it might be... enjoyable."
"Let's call it a date!"