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blood-mocha-latte · 3 months

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Okay hear me out. A Valentine's Day ficlet wherein everyone in H Company is out on fancy dates except ace!Chuckler, who is S T O K E D to have the apartment to himself. He's gonna Tom Cruise underwear dance yo.

bestie you absolute GENIUS by god. ace!chuckler my beloved!! loosier sort of Shoved themselves into this, which i hope is okay!

i love this too much. so much. all the much. i hope you enjoy <3

“Please don’t tell me those are what I think they are.”

Chuckler smiled, smug, and adjusted the sunglasses across the bridge of his nose. “I think I look classy.” He said, and Lucky looked at him with something that matched vague horror.

“They’re bigger than the continental US.” He said, sounding somewhat impressed. “And pink.”

“And stylish.” Runner jumped in easily, rounding their kitchen island with a cup of coffee and sitting across from Leckie. “You could be on the cover of Vogue.”

Lew grinned, and tilted his face up so the sunglasses wouldn’t fall off. “Because of my stunning good looks?”

He’d gotten the glasses for half off at the gas station that sat kitty-corner from their apartment, and it was, in short, the best three quarters and a dime he ever spent.

“I think I’m gonna wear them everywhere.” He said, and took them off only to admire them, the heart-shape of their frames, the red tint of the shades. “Paint ‘em green, go out for a night in the town.”

“Get horribly lost again.” Runner agreed, and Chuckler made a face at him.

“Okay, well, that wasn’t on me.” He said loftily, crossing his arms and setting the glasses down on the table. “Someone took the charger so my phone was dead, so I couldn’t Google-walk home—”

“—that was extenuating-fucking-circumstances, I was supposed to get a call from a publisher—” Leckie is jumping in with a protest before Lew can even finishing talking, holding up his hands defensively, and Runner started talking over him after that, a large jumble of shouting that ceased only when Leckie’s door cracked open.

Lucky nearly fell out of his chair when Hoosier shuffled out of his room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, hair sticking up in every direction. “Coffee.” He said, and Hoosier grunted, a nonverbal confirmation that sounded only slightly murderous.

“I hate you.” He said, shuffling the short distance between their bedroom and the dining room table and dropping into Leckie’s now unoccupied seat. Leckie in question was pouring a second mug of coffee, still steaming, and was quick to move and set it in front of Bill, pressing a kiss to his temple that Hoosier was too slow to bat away.

“I love you, and I’ll get you whatever you want tonight.” He promised, already turning back into the kitchen to find the creamer. Hoosier curved his hands around the mug, bringing his face down to inhale the steam.

“I want a new boyfriend.” He muttered to it, and Runner snorted.

“Bad night?” He asked, and Chuckler raised his eyebrows, pushing his glasses closer to Hoosier when the other just gave him a blank look.

“I was having trouble with my novel.” Leckie said absently, clattering around at the counter as he did something that Lew couldn’t see. “And was trying to force myself to write, which—”

“Which means that I got one and a half hours of sleep last night, and also am going to get a gun.” Hoosier said over him, face still against his mug. “To kill you, Bob, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It’s very clear. And very understandable.” Leckie said, turning back around with one of the semi-stale croissants they’d gotten at the same gas station that Chuckler had acquired his glasses at. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Hoosier said. “We’re done. Get out of my house.” Leckie hummed, setting the croissant in front of him and crossing an arm over the front of his chest, dropping his face down to his hair before kissing his forehead.

“I’ve got an awesome day planned.” He said, and Hoosier groaned, holding up a hand to fend him off. “You’re gonna love it—”

“I’m gonna be too tired to enjoy it—”

“Well,” Chuckler interrupted, pushing his sunglasses back onto his face when Hoosier showed no interest in them. “I mean. I slept great.”

Hoosier just blinked at him. “Would you like company tonight?”

“Baby—” Leckie started, holding his hands out, but Lew was already shaking his head, vehement.

“No way in hell!” He said cheerfully, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “Today for me is about me. Today for you is about you and Lucky, it’s not my fault he’s a terrible partner.”

Hoosier dropped his forehead to the table with a groan, and Leckie shot Chuckler a vaguely threatening look. Lew just shrugged, still grinning, and Runner snorted.

“I mean. I’m gonna have a great day too.” He offered, and Chuckler held his hand up in a high five.

“Hell yeah!” He said, enthused. “But you can’t stay here. I have dibs.”

Leckie made some sort of frustrated sound, still clattering around in something that seemed to be in an effort to reap forgiveness. “When can we come back?” He asked, complaining, and Hoosier snorted.

“Why do you care?” He muttered to the table. “You’re never getting laid again.”

Chuckler just shrugged. “Sleep over at Hoosier’s place.” He offered to Lucky, and Hoosier groaned over him in protest.

“He’s sleeping in the fucking street before he’s getting into my bed again.” He said, and Leckie sighed.

So. Very par for the course.

“I’ll give you seven dollars if we can come back by nine.” Lucky offered, and Lew grinned, delighted.

“Nope! This is the first time I get to be by myself in nine months, by darling friends, and I don’t want to see any of your faces for the next twenty-four hours. You have thirty minutes to get out of here.”

He finished off his own coffee, and Hoosier pushed his face off of the table to squint at him, under eyes bruised purple. Leckie moved around him again, attempting to kiss his cheek, and Hoosier steered him away with an open palm to the face.

“I like your glasses.” He told Chuckler.

“Thanks.” Lew said, cheerful. “I like your croissant.”

“Thanks. You can have it, if you want. You can have the man who made it, too.”

“Babe—”

Chuckler snorted, wrinkling his nose. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

His plan for the night, as written out:

Wrap all of Leckie’s shoes in cellophane.

Last month, Lew had woken up at four in the morning with his singularly obtained Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic book shrink wrapped, and Leckie sitting at their kitchen table, sipping at coffee, calmly writing out what seemed to be a letter.

Finally, he had time to seek his revenge.

(He had also conveniently forgotten that the reason Leckie’d wrapped his comic book at all was because Chuckler had replaced all of Hoosier’s keys with plastic baby rings.)

Do his laundry. In peace.

Last time, Runner had gotten cheetos in the dryer. Lew wasn’t even sure how he managed that, but never again. Never again.

Text Hoosier to make sure he hasn’t actually killed Lucky.

“Hi.”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine. It’s all fine. I’m still mad, though, so. Uh.”

“Lucky plan something good?”

“Ugh. Yeah. It’s really sweet, the motherfucker. I’m never gonna forgive him for this.”

“He took you to the Observatory, didn’t he?”

“Yep. The bastard. How’s it going for you?”

“I mean. If it makes you feel better, he has a nice present at home, now.”

“Hm. Make him suffer for me.”

“Okay! But don’t make him too upset. This is, like, a big night for him.”

“...”

“Hello?”

“Chuckler. You have to tell me if he’s going to propose. Legally. It’s — you can get arrested if you don’t.”

“Hm. I don’t think I can. But he’s not gonna propose—”

“I — I mean, we’ve talked about this, and I’d say yes, but if he proposes on fucking Valentines day—”

“He’s not gonna propose! I promise. Scouts honor! Roommates honor!”

“That is the most cliche shit I’ve ever heard—”

“All I did was tell you to be nice to him! That doesn’t mean he’s going to ask you to marry him—”

“Oh, holy fuck, I knew that he was being weirdly nice—”

Make a cake.

Although whatever drama Hoosier and Leckie were going through was interesting enough, he also had a recipe that he wanted to try and last time he’d tried to bake anything of any sort, Hoosier had poured jalapeno sauce into it.

Which, come to think of it, may have been because Chuckler popped all of the keys out of Leckie’s laptop.

Listen to Simon and Garfunkel.

Runner hated Simon and Garfunkel, and because Chuckler was to be a good person, he didn’t blast it through the house when he was home.

But he wasn’t home, was he!

Lew loved Valentine's Day.

Call Hoosier one more time. Just to be extra certain Leckie isn’t dead.

“Oh, good, you picked up! Please tell me you haven’t got engaged—”

“What? Oh, no. Bob has been, uh. Well. Bob’s been arrested, so—”

“Bob’s been what—”

“But it’s not my fault, I feel I should make that incredibly clear—”

“Uh-huh. Okay, well, I’m not coming and getting you. Call Runner.”

“No, no—”

“It’s my day, Hoosier! You know this! It’s my day, I’m not dragging my ass down to the station—”

“My boyfriend’s in jail, Lew, I think that’s extenuating circumstances—”

“Ope, the Sound of Silence just came on, so I’m gonna obey its wise title and hang up. Call Runner!”

“I — uh. Fine. It’s your day.”

“It really is! Good luck. Don’t say anything without a lawyer.”

Yeah. Lew loved Valentine’s Day.

#rie writes #peace and love and ace chuckler on planet earth <3 #thank you for the prompt i ADORED it #the pacific #chuckler juergens #loosier #hbo war

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 1 year

Text

indeterminate intimacies

Newt didn’t know when they started being this open with each other, and he didn’t know when exactly he started to develop not-so-platonic feelings for his best friend, but he did know that he couldn’t let Hermann find out.

Had a chat with a mutual about some of Burn Gorman’s voice acting roles, and this immediately started writing itself.

Featuring massages, light bickering, confessions, and Newton Geiszler’s inability to shut up for more than 5 seconds.

2.853 words.

What they were was indeterminate, hovering somewhere in the spaces of what was tangent and what could be, floating in a sea of 'maybe's and 'what ifs’.

It was a breathless wonder, facing that limitless potential, the breathless wonder at standing atop a precipice and the overwhelming compulsion to dive headfirst.

Electrifying.

Terrifying.

It was a plunge Newt wasn’t sure he would ever be willing to take.

Not now, anyway.

Not like this.

But what they had now? This... this unspoken intimacy? This was enough.

It was more than enough.

Hermann’s nails kept catching on his scalp, just light enough to tease, sending an endless fizzy kind of energy through Newt's nerve endings, every synapse flaring to life with each calculated movement of calloused fingers.

Newt may have whined- probably had- Hermann letting out a breath of air that sounded a touch too close to laughter for Newt to fully ignore it.

He offered a protest- or started to- but then Hermann purposely scratched the soft space behind Newt's right ear, and all energy to protest fled him as quickly as it had come. And Herms had the audacity to linger there, thumb lightly kneading delicate circles in the same space, other fingers creeping back to work at Newt's temple. And then-

"Oh, you ass..."

-Hermann's left hand came up to mirror his right, and Newt was lost to a sparkling sea of nebulae.

For a few moments, there was nothing except Hermann-

-Hermann... and the constellations sparking to life behind Newt's eyelids.

Even if he had wanted to focus on something else, he wasn't able to summon a damn thing, too lost in the gentle ebb and flow, lost to the patient, politic, practiced touch.

"If I had known this was all it took to keep you quiet," Hermann mused softly, "I would have started doing this years ago."

Newt scowled in annoyance, forcing open an eye to attempt a glare at Hermann.

It was... difficult... to stay angry though, hard to focus on any one thought, and then Herms' fingers were swiping just so, and-

They both froze.

In his defense, Newt had no idea he could even make a sound like that.

Hermann all but jerked away from him; Newt could feel the rigidness in his posture, in the sudden change of the weight displacement on the mattress. "Newton... Newton, I- I apologize-"

"Holy shit, dude-"

"-I can sto-"

"-No! God, no, just-"

"-p. Newton, are you sure you want me to...?" Hermann's voice trailed off, the question hanging heavily in the air between them.

Again, Newt was staring into that gaping precipice, overwhelmed by the rushing thrill and the ache for more, more, more-

"-please?"

Newt knew he sounded desperate, couldn't find it in him to care. The thought of losing this- whatever this was-

"God no. Don't stop."

There was still hesitance on his part, but slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Hermann relaxed once more, fingers resuming their dance through Newt's hair.

Incrementally, inescapably, they fell back to the familiar, and Newt let his eyes drift shut once more, heady from the sparks tingling across his skin, drowsy beneath the weight of his blanket.

Newt’s head fell to the side, cheek settling against his pillowcase, and Hermann's fingers followed instinctively, easily settling into a new rhythm.

Newt only just managed to convince his eyes to open again, room blurry from lack of glasses, only his lab partner somewhat clear. "...ould ‘ome 'own 'ere," he tried, sounds and syntax and syllables an incoherent mess of mumbling, scarcely escaping as a breath.

Hermann's eyebrow quirked, and the smallest twitch of his lips hinted at a bemused smile. "What was that?"

There was a fondness underwritten there, one Newt could recognize anywhere.

It had taken way too long, but finally, finally they were in tandem again.

Newt had always known they would be, if they could get past that horrible first meeting, if they had the chance to actually try again- a chance to start over, to re-forge that epic bromance somewhere far away from where Herms had to keep up that mask of professional detachment, far away from the crowds and judgmental stares that always sent Newt’s anxiety into overdrive.

Hermann and Newt, two wunderkinds desperately searching for someone who could finally understand them, both of them still scared shitless at just how far that understanding actually ran.

He always had a feeling they'd end up kind of like this, once they had the chance to actually just be themselves again.

It was ironic, so painfully ironic, that they found their new start at the end of the fucking world.

Newt tried not to think about the future too much; if the Kaiju didn't end up taking them all out, then it was going to be Climate Change, and if it wasn't Climate Change, then-

No. He had to stop thinking so much.

The Future was a huge question mark, a pretty fucking terrifying one, but for now...

Right now...

Hermann’s left hand had settled on Newt's upper back, right hand having fallen away entirely, allowing Newt to turn and face him properly, narrowing his eyes in a bit of a challenge, though it sounded more like a plea. "I said 'you should come down here.'"

Hermann's face did that Thing- Newt didn't have a word for it; it was like Herms was shuffling through a dozen different expressions in the span of only seconds, jaw tensing and shifting, eyes narrowing minutely before returning to normal, the smallest flicker of a smile blooming before it was thrown away again- and then he shook his head, expression neutral. "What am I to do with you?"

There was a softness to the inquiry- rhetorical as anything- and Newt just smiled as innocently as he could manage with his face half-buried in his pillows. "Anything you want."

There was a definitive twist to Hermann's expression now, the shift subtle enough that the transition could have been missed were one not looking for it, but Newt? Newt lived for it.

"'Anything,’” Hermann murmured, rhetorical and playful as all hell, and damn him for somehow making those three syllables shoot Newt's pulse into overdrive. "Surely you know the dangers of offering someone the power to do anything, Newton."

Sure he did, but he wasn't offering it to just anyone.

Newt let his smile soften, felt his body relax even further into the mattress. "I trust you, dude. Even if you went total Bond villain or something, I probably still would."

Hermann's fingers had taken to working on Newt's shoulder blade, almost as if he knew that it had been bothering him for several days now.

Eventually, maybe, Newt would stop overworking his right arm so much; he was always using it too much, throwing around too much weight with it, and then he would have to spend a week with the fucker aching like crazy.

Herms must have known it was hurting- probably saw him favoring it after tossing out all those expired samples earlier- kneading dexterous fingers right into the edge of the plate, digging just enough beneath the inferior angle to reach the true source of Newt's pain, applying just enough pressure to encourage the release of tension-

-And then he focused on soothing away the inevitable discomfort the massage brought with it.

Newt sighed in relief, the world going softer around the edges, the little energy he had left dedicated to trying to focus on Hermann’s voice.

"-fourth novel was a bloody insult to his fans."

Whoops. He had completely zoned out.

"Shit, dude," Newt breathed out, letting his eyes flicker, words half-mumbled again. "I missed like... All of that."

Hermann sighed, somewhere between exasperated and fond. Another of Newt’s favorite songs; he could listen to that all day. He could listen to Herms talk all day, actually. He had such a nice voice; he'd be amazing at ASMR. Or like... Audiobooks maybe?

"Newt, you're rambling."

Newt’s eyes shot open, startled into silence at Hermann's casual use of his nickname.

That, and the sheer mortification that his thoughts had all likely just fallen right out of his mouth in a pile of listless word vomit.

All of his thoughts.

Herms just smiled upon noticing Newt's panic, and proceeded to ruffle his hair softly. "No need to worry. I believe you were listing the anatomical components of the shoulder-"

Oh thank f-

"-and going on about how much you love the sound of my voice."

-uck!

Newt experienced the two extremes of being caught in a truth that was never meant to see the light of day (or his lava lamp in this case).

Immediately came the cold, cold dread that left his chest aching and stomach clenching, twisted together with that horrible, horrible heat that always turned his cheeks into a blazing sort of red that almost perfectly matched his cousin’s favorite maroon sweater.

Overwhelmed by his embarrassment, and with nowhere else to hide, Newt turned and shoved his face so firmly into the pillow that he nearly broke his nose.

Hermann, the bastard, that- that- that too-amazing-for-anyone's-good asshole- was chuckling. “You needn't be embarrassed, Newton. I'm quite fond of your voice, as well."

Oh that was such-

"-ullshi-."

There was a pause, a clear shift in the air, before Hermann spoke again, voice far soberer. "Pardon?"

Newt huffed, embarrassment fading away into frustration, heat still clinging to his cheeks, as he twisted to face Hermann with his whole body, poking an accusing finger into the mathematician's chest. "I said-" Newt began pointedly, accenting each syllable with another sharp poke to Hermann's chest. "That is such bullshit," he finished emphatically, eyes narrowed in an attempt to see Herms better, frowning in his general direction. "My voice cracks all the time, I have literally no volume control, and-"

Hermann grabbed Newt's wrist, preventing further poking, eyebrows furrowed in agitation.

"-And that voice happens to be a crucial part of someone I consider very, very dear to me."

It took a few seconds for Hermann's interruption to register, the words settling under Newt's skin, weaving their way into his chest.

Well shit.

Newt deflated, every hint of fight leaving him. "You- You can't just say stuff like that, dude. You can’t say shit like that and expect me to not-"

He cut himself off immediately.

No, Newt.

Not now.

Not here.

Not like this.

"To not what, Newton?"

Hermann’s grip shifted once more, thumb tracing circles on Newt's palm, and damn him for making Newt start to tumble into a cascading meteor shower all over again.

But it was too late.

Hermann had trapped him in his gravity well years ago, and Newt had long ago given up trying to escape it.

Didn't want to escape it.

"Herms..." Newt started, unsure if it was more a warning or a plea.

"Newton..." Hermann faded off, tone softening, almost apprehensive. "Please?"

Hermann had shifted closer in the past few moments, eyes carefully seeking out any tells, any clues, and Newt was lost all over again in the face of that infinite, spectacular brown.

This close, he could trace every sharp angle, every indented imperfection, and each of those small spaces where stress and time had already staked a claim.

Gaia, he was beautiful. Beautiful in that way that was so perfectly Hermann, in the way that when you love someone they become the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

Dammit, Newt was so gone on him.

And Herms?

Herms deserved to know, needed to know that for Newt this wasn't just a passing, fleeting thing, that these moments, hidden away from the rumor mill and prying eyes, where they were each other's crutch and support and confidant-

Hermann deserved to know just how much Newt had come to treasure each and every second of it.

How lost he'd be without him.

And fuck it; who knew if they'd even live long enough to see the next attack?

There was no guarantee in life, and suddenly the thought of never taking that leap, of never showing Hermann the cliff that Newt was so close to falling off of-

The thought of never telling him the truth was suddenly much more terrifying than whatever rejection it might bring.

"You can’t-" Newt cut off, huffing before diving headfirst into the cavernous Unknown, making a point to find Hermann's eyes. "...You can’t just say stuff like that and not expect me to fall a little bit in love with you."

Hermann's shuddering breath brought with it a coiled tension that Newt knew all too well; he'd seen it after dealing with inconsiderate bigots at fundraisers, during every phone call with Lars or Dietrich, any time Hermann made a miscalculation, negating hours upon hours of work.

And in that moment, Newt hated himself.

He wished for nothing more than the ability to take it all back, wished he could stop putting his goddamn foot in his mouth all the time, wished he could stop hurting the people he-

"I..." A single slip of breath from Hermann, barely a distinguishable word or sound, and Newt was ripped right back into the precarious present, everything- Everything- hanging on the precipice, and he had no hope of salvation, so convinced of destruction, that he was completely thrown by the surprise on Hermann's face, chest clenching at the appearance of those adorable eye crinkles, the almost lost, pleading way Hermann was studying him, searching Newt for answers to questions he only had to ask.

Fuck, Newt would give Hermann anything he wanted, especially if he kept looking at him like he'd hung the fucking sun.

"...Herms?"

He knew the guy wasn't great with sentiment, and English wasn't great with its limited classifications for affection and fondness and coming to love your best friend so deeply that you were pretty sure you were soulmates in another life, even if biologically speaking there really wasn’t such a thing as soulmates, and humans had such bizarre bonding rituals as it was and yet you-

A hand finding his own brought his thoughts to a screeching halt, and Newt blinked dumbly at the image of Hermann’s pale, elegant fingers lacing with his own ink-stained, freckled ones.

"You're rambling again."

Oh.

That would explain why he felt so out of breath and kind of on the brink of a panic attack.

Hermann’s thumb was mapping out fractals again, and Newt wasn't sure if it was to try to calm him down or if Herms was just stalling for time.

Probably both.

"If it's any consolation, I care deeply for you, too."

No, Herms...

"Herms, you don't have to-"

"-Let me finish, Geiszler," Hermann cut in, crisp and cold as a winter’s morning, the intended effect completely countered by the soft squeeze of Newt’s fingers and-

Wow, when exactly had this become a normal thing for them, anyways?

At Newt's lack of an answer, Hermann took the cue to continue, each word fumbling out as if he were dragging them, heaving them, struggling to bring them to the surface. "Of all the disruptions I've faced in this life, I admit that I've found you continuously proving to be the most pleasant of them."

"Thanks, I think?" Newt responded with a wry twist of his lips, earning a huff from the other.

"Hush, you delinquent; let me think a moment."

Newt felt a smile; Herms was using insults as affectionate epitaphs again.

"Please believe me when I say that I do care about you, Newton, in a way I can neither explain nor hope to quantify. I-” Hermann paused, doing that Thing with his face again, before he settled with a raised brow, the slightest hint of a smile. "You are my dearest, truest friend, and I wouldn't wish to face the Abyss with anyone else at my side."

Newt could do nothing except stare, awestruck at the surety of Hermann's words, the determination, the pure warmth in his expression. He was lost, floating somewhere far beyond Earth's atmosphere, falling headfirst into a black hole.

Herms loved him.

And-

Reality came back to Newt in a collapsing rush, awareness slamming him back into his own imperfect carbon-based form with the furor of an imploding star.

-holy shit.

Hermann loved him.

And even if this- this casual intimacy- was the most that ever came of it, even if Hermann never loved Newt the same way, this was-

Shit; this was more than he could have hoped for. Newt was fucking flying.

What exactly they were remained indeterminate, the classification still hovering somewhere in the spaces of what was tangent and what could be, but now they had crossed over the precipice.

Newt had taken the plunge, Hermann trailing only a half-step behind, both of them falling into this new Unknown Thing together. It was the end of the world- maybe- but they would be facing it together.

"'Hand in unlovable hand,'" Newt asked with a grin, lifting their intertwined hands for emphasis.

Hermann rolled his eyes and let slip a warm laugh, clearly in spite of himself.

It sent liquid sunshine rushing through Newt's veins.

Thanks for reading!

#newmann #newton x hermann #pacific rim #fanfiction #romantic friendship #newton geiszler #newt geiszler #hermann gottlieb #hello lovelies!#clearly i am spiraling~#thank you for reading!#pacrim #canon compliant #asexual #asexual characters #ace characters #asexuality #newton geiszler x hermann gottlieb

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