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The annual K-science conference was a big deal for the PPDC. It's the time where the departments got to collect funding and present their work in various pavilions. Newt had attended a number of these since joining K-sci. It's always been a grand affair; a spectacle and a reputable event.
It looked so pitiful now.
The grand conversion centers they usually rented out for the event got downgraded to a three stars hotel conference room. The yellow lighting and peeling wallpaper told everyone everything they needed to know about the state of things. There were also about one tenth of the attendees compared to the years prior, and the drop looked so drastic Newt wondered why they were even doing this. Why not just divide the money they had cashed out to make this pathetic spectacle of their failed organization and give it to each department still standing, saving everyone the trouble and the trip.
Newt had been transferred to Hong Kong a year ago, and since then K-sci only shrank in size. Their department wasn't failing to be productive because they didn't have anything to study or to discover. They were being nipped at the bud, aggressively and remorsefully, just to give the Jaeger program another fighting chance. He didn't want to resent them, not when they were the best chance humanity still had of fighting the Kaiju, but damn it all if he did.
Now Newt had to work with a decimated budget and a group of peers he could count in one hand.
And the cruelest joke of all was that among those scientists there was Hermann Gottlieb.
At the moment, the mathematician was wandering around the other side of the conference room, keeping his distance from Newt the way he did in their shared lab. The convention guests, though significantly fewer than usual, still packed the room tightly. An optical illusion, but it gave the impression that there was still something to be salvaged. Something worth investing in. That's where Newt kept spotting Hermann throughout the night: deep in conversation with some sophisticated investors who didn't understand even half of what he was saying with his haughty and inflexible demeanor as he overbearingly presented his Predictive Model. Newt keeps casting his gaze over the heads of the crowd to watch him, and it annoyed him so much that he couldn't stop doing it, but not as much as it annoyed him seeing Hermann elegantly dressed in his black tuxedo (some pre-war holdover that for once suited him perfectly, not like his regular clothes that made him look like a boy in clothes passed down from his older brother; or maybe his grandfather), and so pompously focused on his mission: obtaining funds for K-Sci.
But not for all of K-Sci, oh no. Newt knew that if Hermann got the money, he'd do everything he could to keep Newt from seeing a dime and take the fall at the next cuts.
It was a competition, one that Hermann had started the moment he'd applied for the PPDC liaison role without even being chosen and tried to get Newt to not come with him. The hundreds of complaints to the HR department, the fights in the lab that made their colleagues pale, the formal warnings from Marshal Pentecost that made Newt sneer and Hermann turn beet red. This was all they had, rivalry and hostility, and it made Newt's blood boil just as much as it made him feel electric.
It drove Newt insane, the way Hermann pretended to be who he's not. He did nothing but lie and hide his true colors until they were exposed, but Newt could see right through him.
Even now, when he caught Hermann's eyes from afar (always a hint of superiority in his complacent expression), Newt was able to relive the scene in his mind all over again.
Four years ago: Hermann was dressed exactly like this, wearing that same expression, at an event pretty much the same as this one. Their first meeting hadn't been the best. In fact, Newt might dare call it the biggest mistake he's ever made in his life. He really thought he knew Hermann back then. Years of letters, feelings, theories, small hints of a person's most intimate truth, all written down in black and white. All boiling down to a lie.
The Hermann who wrote to him wasn't the same Hermann who had appeared before him four years ago, but he wasn't even the same Hermann Newt met again and has been working with for one long year. Newt still couldn't put all those parts together, and when he finally thought something of the person he used to know was emerging, Hermann sniffed and turned his back, or praised the system that's been exploiting them, or saluted their superiors like a perfect little soldier in the face of everything Newt has been criticizing since he was old enough to understand how the world worked. But what the biologist saw tonight was by far the worst combination of all: standing before him, begging for funding by flaunting his achievements, was the Hermann that reminded him of the haughty, arrogant, and snobbish man from their first meeting.
And it was an unbearable sight.
Newt downed another glass of cheap champagne to erase the image from his mind, even though it kept stubbornly resurfacing.
A middle-aged man standing not far from the table with more glasses was staring at him. Newt vaguely recognized him. He'd been at some old K-Sci conference. He must be a pretty devout guy to still be here even when the major private investors had abandoned ship. But a big fish was a big fish, and even though getting closer to him meant getting closer to where Hermann still conversed with his targets, Newt marched on resolutely.
It felt like Hermann's gaze was following him the entire time he approached the man, but Newt ignored it, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his good cotton shirt. He should have done it sooner, but they had the air conditioning on full blast as if they had money to burn, but all the alcohol Newt had consumed was finally taking effect, sending a hot flush from his stomach to his collar and making him forget about Hermann for a few blessed seconds.
"You're the K-sci director, right?" the man asked after a few words of introduction. Newt had forgotten the guy's name already, but he hoped it wouldn't be important, even if something else was becoming very evident very quickly. The way the man looked at Newt, the hand that lingered in his when he went to shake it and the corner of his mouth twisted into an indulgent smile. Even his questions assumed the sort of intonation that wasn't dispassionate anymore, shifting into a flirtatious tone instead.
"I sure am," Newt answered, matching the tone and leaning a little closer. "I mean, I'm not the only one. I share the role with my lab partner, but other than that, I'm the boss."
The man chuckled, close mouthed, in the fake but polite way of people who were amused by you until they could get something worthwhile in return.
"I heard about your team, but I heard about you the most. Your work on artificial tissue replication is very impressive. It could make you a fortune if you were to sell the patent."
It's Newt's turn to press his lips together and hum in fake consideration.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not looking to move to the private sector if that's the question. If you have the money to invest in me, you already know in which direction to throw it."
"I know, I know, but that is such a pity," the man said, taking a sip of his champagne and making a face at the taste. "The PPDC is a failed investment at this point. I've already endowed a lot of money, and I don't know if I intend to do so again. Nothing tonight has made me change my mind. Yet."
He peered at Newt expectantly, his gray eyes roaming the biologist's body, pausing briefly on his lips before returning to his eyes, and something akin to self-preservation twisted in Newt's gut.
He wondered briefly how far he's willing to go to get a leg up in this doomed race, but just as the reserve had time to take shape in his brain, he dismissed it entirely.
It wasn't like Newt ever had any standard or qualm when it came to his flings; calling them romances would be too generous. He wasn't new to the game of no-strings-attached sex, and if in the past he'd tried to linger longer, if detachment had felt like cutting thin strands he'd unintentionally left behind, as if he couldn't help but smear his hands with glue before touching someone, that was something Newt's still working on. But this time it was even more partial, and the payoff wasn't null. This guy wasn't even that bad looking. Slim build, sandy blonde hair that whitened at the temples, and a candid smile that didn't seem predatory or demanding; just seductive and a little cheeky. Newt was into that. It was a win, win, win on all fronts, and to add to the pros, it was a great distraction to spend the rest of the night not thinking about...
"Excuse me," Hermann appeared next to them out of nowhere, making Newt almost scream. "Am I interrupting something?"
Newt blinked, baffled. He couldn't place the glacier tone in Hermann's voice, grinding out the words between clenched teeth barely containing his anger like when he and Newt were knee deep in some argument. Expect it didn't make sense because the two of them had hardly exchanged more than a few words since the conference had started. Hermann always made sure to keep Newt at a disproportionate distance when they were in public, too, so why was he willingly inserting himself in a conversation he had no business being in?
"Yeah, you are," Newt stated the obvious. "Now get lost."
"Hang on, are you Dr. Hermann Gottlieb?" the man asked with a glint of recognition. "The other K-sci director?"
"That's correct," Hermann replied sternly, taking the opportunity to step further between Newt and the man, while glaring at the latter. "Pardon me, but I overheard part of your conversation with Dr. Geiszler and I understand that you're not seriously interested in investing in K-science's efforts to save the world. If that is the case, I'd kindly ask you to leave my partner alone and not waste his time."
"Wait," the man retorted, blinking hard at the accusation. "Excuse me?"
"What the fuck are you going?" Newt hissed, trying to elbow Hermann out of the way where he'd planted himself, partially blocking Newt. "Back off, dude."
"I can assure you that whatever accusation you're trying to level against me is completely baseless," the man tried to explain himself deftly to Hermann, who hadn't budged an inch. "I'm very interested in your partner's work."
"Of course," Hermann seethed, his voice thick with insinuation. "His work is brilliant, and very important to the cause. That is the whole reason why we are here, after all."
Newt saw red: he had enough of this. He grabbed Hermann's arm, gave him a murderous look, and began dragging him away.
"Excuse us a moment," he said over his shoulder as an afterthought as he led Hermann speedily out of the conference room. He didn't want to make a scene and ruin his evening any more than Hermann already had.
Down the corridor, he spotted a secluded door with the word 'staff' on it. He opened it to shove a protesting Hermann inside.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Newt shrieked without losing a beat as soon as the door was closed behind him. "Do you get off on tormenting me?"
Hermann whirled around to face Newt, anger blazing in his eyes and his cheeks flushing scarlet, evident even in the partial darkness. The closet they'd ended up in was tiny; there was barely enough room for a meter between them with their backs against the walls, but with the tall shelves stocked with cleaning supplies and towels, Newt felt almost claustrophobic.
"I'm very clearly not the one caught up in a sexual entanglement here," Hermann dissed. "You have absolutely no shame."
Newt cackled, his shoulders shaking with the force of it.
"You're such a fucking prude. Why do you even care if I have sex with that guy? Are you homophobic too on top of being so fucking repressed?"
Hermann's mouth curled into a displeased twist.
"I don't care about that," he said unconvincingly, looking at a random point over Newt's shoulder before returning his gaze on him for more snubs. "What I do have a problem with is you sleeping with someone to get funding. Even for you, Newton, that is sinking low."
Newt's insides boiled hot with pure rage. From an exasperating and maddening situation, this suddenly turned into something darker and less forgiving.
"You hypocrite," Newt snapped, pointing his finger directly at Hermann's face as his voice grew mercilessly harsh. "You've been the ass-kisser of every superior officer or authority figure who so much as glanced at you all your life, and now you have a problem with me?"
"I do, as a matter of fact," Hermann said indignantly, his words dripping with sarcasm. "What you're doing is immoral, vulgar, and objectionable. I have no intention of accepting funds flowing into our department like this."
"Who said you have to accept them? You would never have given me a cent of what you got tonight — not that you'd have gotten anything with that pompous, know-it-all attitude that was putting everyone to sleep. You just can't make a good first impression, can you?"
Newt shut his mouth at once, but his face was still hot and pinched with resentment and his mouth always ran faster than his brain when he was angry. It was the first time since they started working together that either of them mentioned their disastrous first meeting. It was one of those mines buried in the field of their relationship that they both knew how to circumvent and didn't even try to get close to.
Newt didn't know how Hermann would react to it, cornered in three square meters of room, with the lights low, too much alcohol in their systems, and the wires of the bomb exposed and ready to blow them both up.
But Hermann's eyes blazed with anger and contempt, and he seemed too far gone to care about his policy on keeping Newt and any uncomfortable, destructive feelings behind the hazard zone.
"Is that right?" Hermann snarled, taking a threatening step closer. "Then how about the utter disappointment of finding yourself face-to-face with someone as crass and immature as you? Who deceived you for years making you believe he was someone he's not?"
Newt's mouth twisted wryly.
"I never lied to you, and if you created a version of me in your head to fit your ideals of wistful, pathetic obedience that's your own damn problem. You and your moral superiority can go get fucked for all I care. And if I get that funding, don't come knocking on my desk."
Newt turned to leave, but he barely had time to do so before Hermann pushed him back, grabbing him and pinning him against the shelf.
The impact of his back against the hard edges was almost as shocking as Hermann's grip on Newt's jacket collar. Hermann's cane made a dull sound as it fell against the door and remained there, untouched.
Newt's mouth dropped open, and with wide eyes he noticed all the details he'd missed so far: the deep red of Hermann's cheeks, his dilated pupils, the way his breathing was swollen, as if he couldn't get enough air. They were far too close for any sort of misunderstanding, and Newt struggled all over again to make sense of a version of Hermann that didn't fit in with any of the previous ones.
Except that maybe this was the most open they've been since they were pouring their hearts out on paper.
"Don't do it," Hermann told him; his unwavering glare holding them both in place, but his words had gone thick and uncertain as he struggled to regain his detachment and Newt saw the opening of a lifetime and he simply couldn't pass on to it.
"Or what?" he challenged, voice low and breathy.
Hermann's face became slack, blinking hard with too many emotions crossing it. His fingers over Newt's collar faltered but didn't let go, and that was the best, craziest confirmation of Newt's suspicions he'd ever gotten.
Newt grinned wildly and seized the front Hermann's jacket, pushing away from the shelves and into Hermann's space until their lips almost touched.
"Hypocrite," Newt repeated in a barely audible voice before pressing his mouth to Hermann's.
It wasn't a tender kiss, it was all teeth and hands gripping tightly at whatever they could grab, and Newt felt like he was being consumed.
He was pushed back against the shelf, his hip pressing uncomfortably against it, but he didn't care. Newt's hands ran down the back of Hermann's tuxedo, which suddenly felt twenty layers thicker. He had the bold, brilliant idea of lowering his hands further, past Hermann's bony hips, and placing them on his ass, pulling him closer.
The noise that came from Hermann startled Newt and made him stop for a moment. It sounded pained, and Newt panicked, thinking he'd hurt him before realizing that Hermann was completely hard at the same time as he ground himself against Newt's groin.
Newt went lightheaded. Another whine escaped Hermann's mouth, still kissing Newt like a lifetime of funding depended on it, and the sensation was like an electric shock traveling from Newt's brain to his dick.
He tried to keep Hermann steady where he was, sustaining the mathematician's weight against him one armed because Newt had bigger plans for his right hand. He ran his fingers up and down Hermann's back, crossing his side and settling it over the stomach, trying to get the shirt free from the helm of the pants. It was too many actions at once, and in the meantime Hermann upped the pressure by slotting his leg in between Newt's groin. The friction against it was so good it was making him insane.
Hermann's fancy shirt didn't budge. Newt groaned in frustration, but whatever Hermann was doing with his fingers, tucked behind Newt's neck and digging into his spine as he kissed down Newt's jaw, gave the biologist a different idea. He groped the front of Hermann's pants, feeling his dick large and trapped behind the fabric. Hermann's next moan was so delicious it made Newt smile deliriously and he ran his fingers against Hermann's length, feeling him twitch and bulk under his touch.
Newt exhaled, claiming Hermann's lips again. It was absurd, impossible; something Newt had wanted for so long but convinced himself was never gonna happen and he needed to stop driving himself mad with it. He never succeeded, and now the sensation building up in his insides devoured him whole, escaping in moans and whines against the crook of Hermann's neck where Newt had buried his face, still grinding against the other man's thigh. He realized vaguely how neither of them was speaking, and that was odd, even in the best-case scenario. No cutting remarks, jabs, pointless and constant bickering.
This was something completely new, and as such, Newt didn't know how not to ruin it.
His right hand gripped Hermann's cock tighter as the other returned to his back, firmly forcing his body forward against Newt's.
"Come on," Newt panted. "I know you want it."
Hermann grunted, gritting his teeth as he gripped the edges of the shelves behind Newt's head for support. Newt quickened the motion of his hand.
"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" Newt's breath quickened, bringing himself on edge just by this. Hermann's jealousy infuriated him and excited him at the same time. He only wanted Newt when he was about to go with someone else; but at least he wanted him. "All part—of your plan?"
"I'm not—" Hermann started to say, but a groan cut him short and took his breath away. "No," he contented himself with saying, shaking his head and forcing Newt away from his shelter against Hermann's collarbone. "It's not like that."
Hermann trembled in his arms, and Newt felt the same sensation carry through his bones as if by an electric current. He hadn't realized how close they were, and he quickened his pace, squeezing Hermann even harder in his pants, until it no longer felt like there was fabric between them, and he could no longer distinguish the distance between their bodies.
Hermann suddenly stiffened, and Newt felt him come against his hand. The layer of clothing became familiar once more, wet against Newt's palm, and he was sure the mathematician would be so pissed that his good pants were ruined once the thrill of the moment wore off, but for now he just panted and trembled, gripping Newt's shoulders to keep himself upright as Newt finally undid the button of his own pants and plunged his hand inside, stroking himself fast and needy.
Hermann's gaze was on him, dark and cumbersome even as he recovered. All the air seemed absent from the tiny room, and under Hermann's gaze, Newt felt exposed and desperate. He still held his hand against Hermann's hip, aware of how much pressure he was putting on him almost more than anything else, while Hermann didn't utter a breath or look away. Newt's hand tightened on the tip, biting hard on his lip to swallow a scream as a wave of pleasure washed over him. He came inside his clenched fist with a spasm and an uncontrollable moan.
He wanted to press his face against Hermann's neck again, but even though the other man held his chin high, almost invitingly, when Newt met his gaze again, Hermann was back to being a pillar; the strange, impossible version of Hermann that felt jealousy and desire had vanished into thin air, and before Newt was the same haughty, cold scientist he'd always known.
Newt exhaled, slumping his shoulders as if he was a puppet and the strings holding him up had been cut.
The only sign that this Hermann and the one from a moment before were the same person was his still labored breathing, contained through his nostrils, the flush on his cheeks rapidly turning pale again, and the damp stain in the center of his pants. Newt sneered at that. Hermann couldn't compartmentalize everything, and rubbing himself against Newt in a closet was something he couldn't erase from existence with the power of his imposition alone.
"And so," Newt said half brazenly, half hoarsely. "No funds for either of us. I hope you're happy with your choices."
Hermann's gaze hardened to stone, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. If there had been any trace of lingering vulnerability in his expression before, it was gone in an instant.
Without another word, Hermann grabbed his cane and threw open the door, stepping out and slamming it so hard that some cleaning supplies fell off the shelf and hit the floor. Newt slumped against it, exhausted and incredibly disappointed, once again, by reactions he couldn't have predicted.
Compared to their first meeting, this time the outcome was worse.
This time, they couldn't go back to being strangers. They had to keep seeing each other, day after day, and bury a secret more deadly than ever underground, trying to avoid trampling on it and making it explode.
This time, Newt wasn't sure if he'd be able to pretend he didn't have a death wish after all.