Mad Dogs and Englishmen

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“I am surprised you are not sleeping off last night.” Hermann demurs, smiling. “You were rather, enthusiastic.”

“Well yeah,” Newt shrugs. “Halloween, dude! You made a great xenomorph.”

“I am a xenomorph.” Hermann huffs. 

Newt leans in and kisses him. “A really sweet, adorable xenomorph.”

Hermann kisses back happily. “You made a lovely Ripley. Did Hermine mind being your prop?”

“She loved it.” Newt puts his arm around Hermann. “I kept sneaking her sardines. Now, we’re going to be late.”

Hermann looks up, the massive, gaping fissure leading into Boneyard. “In here?”

“Yep.” Newt strokes his arm, “It’s cool dude, you’ll love it. It’s Tendo’s idea.”

Hermann shivers as they pass out of the gold Anteverse sunlight, and into the cold cold cold of the Boneyard, the pits. The great walls rear up around them, damp and still as they round the corners, burrowing in and deeper into the old Master complex.

Tendo is waiting for them a turning away from the Kaiju graveyard, he smiles. “Hey Hermann! My man!”

He steps in, and throws something around Hermann’s shoulders. Hermann reaches up and his fingers find warm, rough wool, it’s a sort of poncho and Hermann buries himself in it, glad for the relief.

“Here,” Tendo leads him around the bend, and out into the sprawling, hollow darkness of the Kaiju boneyard.

It’s so huge here that it takes Hermann a few moment to notice the candles. There’s a cluster of them, just off the path, into the maze of bones. Hermann frowns, and steps off the path. He has to get on all sixes to climb over the skeletons and his heart tightens in his chest, a silent apology to the dead.

The candles mark out a little circle, and there are blankets here, two baskets. He looks back at Newt, frowning, and Chris and Alison are here too, and Diane. They climb over carefully and join him, sit down on the blankets and opens the hampers.

One is full of sandwiches, rice, last night’s cake. The other holds the remains of a skinmite and some local fish.

Hermann looks between them, then back into the expectant faces of his friends and oh, oh.

“Dia de los Muertos.” He murmurs.

“De los Difunos,” Tendo corrects him gently. “Yeah. We thought we might spend some times with your dead, today.”

Hermann looks around. The searchlights are dim, out here, the candles glint in empty eye sockets, broken teeth, shattered bones. Hermann rests a hand on the smooth curve of a fingerbone, then settles down beside Newt on the blankets. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Newt smiles, “Never a bad excuse for a party.”

It’s a huge chamber, a Jaeger could get lost here. Their little firelight is a tiny pinprick in the miserable darkness, the heavy, oppressive sense of loss and pain that still weighs on this place.

But it is a pinprick, a tiny hole. And maybe in time, little by little, that might spread, grow and warm until the Boneyard will be- yes, a graveyard. A place to ponder and remember the dead and celebrate them, unnamed as they are.

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“They’re all gonna be jealous,” Newt grins, and leans back in the taxi cab. “Ten years on and we’re still sexy sexy rockstars.”

Hermann would have once rolled his eyes, hissed at Newt, acted annoyed. It’s been ten years and he no longer bothers. “Hmm,” He leans in, and paws through Newt’s hair.

“Hey!”

“What’s this, are those grey hairs, Doctor Geiszler?”

“Oh fuck you, I’ll have you know they’ve been grey since I was like, twenty.” He elbows Hermann, “You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re not a sexy silver fox.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermann looks at himself quickly in the taxi’s rearview mirror. His hair is still dark, not a thread of grey. Funny, both of his parents had gone grey in their early forties. “Besides, are you denying you want to show me off?”

“Hell no.” Newt kisses him, “I have the sexiest boyfriend ever, totally showing you off-”

The taxi pulls in at the old Shatterdome. Hermann pays the driver and they both step out onto the ancient helipad, now cracked through ten years of typhoons and heat and monsoons.

“We’re not the first.” Newt points, and Hermann nods, two people are standing near the entrance to the ‘dome. A man and a woman, even from here, he can recognises Rangers Beckett and Mori.

The wall of the Shatterdome is covered, top to bottom by a steel plate that had once come from the Wall project. On it, scribed in tiny letters, are countless names.

Somewhere on there are the names of Stacker Pentecost and Yancy Beckett. As they watch, Mako raises her hand and traces a worn name.

“Hey, Mako!” Newt calls, hurrying across the pad.

They turn and- Hermann stops dead.

Gott, they haven’t changed.

Neither have they, and it’s only now, only here, that Hermann can see it. Newt, and Raleigh and Mako and all three of them could have stepped out ten years ago. Hermann could half imagine he could turn around and they could all be here, Marshall Pentecost, Herc Hansen, Tendo Choi-

“Hermann! My man!”

Hermann turns, and the illusion dies.

It’s Tendo, but - changed. His hair is grey around the temples, his eyes marked with crows feet and the smile lines around his mouth don’t smooth away any more. It’s a shock to see him. It’s a shock to see someone who’s changed.

His smile fades, although the wrinkles still flicker on his skin, a wink to time. He looks at them, the four of them, unchanged. Timeless.

Something cold locks in Hermann’s stomach. He looks at Newt, he’s trying to smile, but he’s shocked too. After ten years of always seeing the same face in the mirror, the same face across the breakfast table, Tendo has shaken him. “Hey man,” He forces a smile.

“Newt, great to see you!” Tendo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s an uncertainty there, almost fear. “You- look great.”

There is nothing they can say to that. If to look great is to look exactly the same as the last time you met, they cannot say it back to Tendo. “You all look great.” He hesitates.

“Great moisturiser,” Newt tries to brazen it out, although there’s a faint quaver in his voice. “I’ll send you a few cases, you’re back in the states, right-”

He’s trying to make this normal, pretend so hard maybe they could make it real. Raleigh’s eyes spark and he joins in, a brassy cheerfulness to cover up the fear.

Mako meets Hermann’s eyes, remains silent. She can’t look away, Hermann’s can’t. It’s like the Breach calculations all over again, something he doesn’t under stand but knows is wrong, something bad, hiding just under the surface. They don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there, unable to ignore, like a burrowed insect, under the skin.

They need to do something.

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Hermann turns away to pulls off his shirt, his fingers have barely left the last button when Newt gets up off the bed. He steps over to him, hands warm on the slightly damp skin of Hermann’s neck, fingers pressing little circles in the soft hair pricking up to meet them.

“You’re gorgeous.” Newt mumbles into the soft, shorn hair of his undercut. Hermann shiver, the prickles running up and down his spine. “I mean, seriously dude? I’m half blind even without my glasses I’d want to jump you.”

“Charming.” Hermann breathes. Newts fingers brush under the open collar of his shirt, peeling the shirt away from his shoulders. “So glad we are about to embark on something- m-meaningless and- oh gott- carnal-”

“Shut up.” Newt’s voice comes from somewhere between his shoulderblades, his tongue flicks out, leaving wet streaks on each raise vertebrae. 

His hands track down, freeing the shirt from Hermann’s body. Hermann holds out his arms, and the loose cuffs slide down over his wrists. He shivers as Newt continues on his way down, the dull thump as his knees hit the floor.

Newt kisses the small of his back then, as if for good luck, the tips of both hipbones. “You have one hell of a cute ass.”

“And here you were doing so well-” Hermann breathes, shivers.

“A cute, bony, adorable ass.” Newt continues, and blows a raspberry on Hermann’s right cheek-

“Newton-”

“Oh come on, dude. This is meant to be fun. Sex is stupid, don’t start going like it’s some kind of big romantic thing-”

Hermann’s breath catches in his throat, it’s a sharp, fierce pain. He blinks at the walls, blinks again. Again. Swallows. “I see.” His voice isn’t quite steady.

Newt pauses, his fingers are hooked into Hermann’s belt, which is the only reason Hermann hasn’t gotten away. “Shit.” He breathes.

“No, you are- very probably right.” Hermann tries to pull the shirt back up over his shoulders. “What do I- I know about it, after all-”

“Shit, wait- ah fuck no. Hermann-” Newt tries to stumble to his feet and keep Hermann there, and nearly brings them both down with his fumbling. “I’m an idiot dude, you know that- I fucked that up- it wasn’t what I meant, I swear-”

Hermann draws in a breath, and forces himself to stay in place. Newt turns around to face him. “I really, really didn’t mean how that came out.”

“You were hardly the first to express that sentiment.”

“But that wasn’t what I meant!” Newt runs his fingers through his hair, it’s damp with sweat, standing up in wild spikes. His shirt is open too, and Hermann has to fight not to let his gaze trace down the whirls of his tattoos, the faint dustings of hair at the curve of his belly. “It was a- really fucking stupid attempt to make you feel better-”

“I-” Hermann closes his eyes, he should shut up. He should put his clothes back on and leave. He shouldn’t open himself further, and lay himself ready to be so very badly hurt. “I want it to be romantic, I want it to be- special. Something extraordinary.”

“Oh babe.” Newt gives him a sad, lopsided sort of smile. “You need a better partner dude, no one ever said I was extraordinary.”

Hermann shrugs. “I thought you might be, for me.”

Newt leans in, and kisses him, and it’s sweet soft, open and give and delicious. Hermann blinks at him, suddenly wondering how to breathe. Newt is centimetres away, eyes wide and a little worried. “Like that.” Hermann breathes.

“Ah hell.” Newt hugs him, rough and impulsive. “I love you man, I just- want to make it good for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Hermann agrees into Newt’s ear.

“All I wanted to say was- when I’ve had sex, it is fun. It’s nice, and silly and fun, and- it wasn’t special before, but really, I’m not an expert. We’ll make it special- fuck, we’ll make it extraordinary. It’s us.”

Hermann chuckles into Newt’s neck, and lets him slowly walk him back towards the bed.

Assimilationist

Do I love these characters. DO i LOVE THESE CHARACTERS! Jesus fuck, I'm having a blast.

Fucking hell, talk about shitty timing. I've spent the last three days nailed to my tablet because of this goddamn prompt:

There have been several cool prompts about Newt not being human, but personally I've always loved stories where the understated person is the inhuman one. Because what better cover is there than being so boring and stuffy that nobody would suspect your of having any otherworldly secrets? So, could we get some not!human Hermann stories going on here? Please?

So if anyone wants to Beta-read a really weird (but not Fic From Hell weird) Pacific Rim fic, please drop me a line. This is going to be YET ANOTHER series, albeit a more a managable one.

So yeah, anyone?

*no seriously, wtf is it with this fucking film, it's like the best thing ever and I've got two books, three posters already and I'm eying up more merchandise. It's like fucking crack*