sciencesaggressively | not cool, brain, not cool

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kate

not cool, brain, not cool

He'd drifted off easily enough, a smile on his face because his arm had been draped over Kate's waist, their fingers entwined and his forehead resting against her shoulder. He doesn't know how deep into sleep he is when it starts, the images tinted in blue--images and memories and emotions. He can see the Precursors, sees their wide eyes as Gipsy Danger destroys them all and closes the breach, a victory for the PPDC but nothing but pain and tragedy for the aliens; he can feel it when Striker Eureka kills Scunner; when Gipsy blasts Leatherback into oblivion. It's all pain, experience his mind believes he's connected to because of the drifts, and the part of his mind that is still just Newt is desperate to get the hell out of this, for an escape, for the pain to ease and--

He wakes up, chest heaving, and he paws at the nightstand beside him until he manages to find his glasses. He blinks a few times, trying to adjust back to reality, and realizes his hands are gripping the bedsheets so tightly that they're trembling. Or maybe it's his whole body that's trembling, that's quickly becoming a larger possibility. His one relief right now is that Kate only shifts a little in her sleep, and he holds his breath until she stops moving and her breathing steadies again; it's the last thing he wants to do, wake her up because of this shit, but then he feels something wet dripping down his nose and he curses to himself as he reaches up to wipe what he knows is blood away.

"Goddammit," he mutters to himself, trying his hardest to slide out of bed without disturbing her. He makes it to the bathroom quietly enough even without his cane to help and winces when he turns on the light, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. When he catches sight of his bloody mess of a face, he grimaces, shaking his head. He grabs at some toilet paper and perches on the edge of the bathtub, stuffing his nose with a distressed sigh. He has no clue what the hell had spurred the nightmare, he hasn't had one since the first time nearly a month ago. He'd honestly thought this wasn't going to be an issue but even if it is, he needs to be able to figure out if this is going to be a random occurrence or if he'll be able to map this out. Nobody needs to know about this, right? It's nothing.

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"I'm willing to wait," he replies, nodding sagely. "The cast comes off and you can give me a thorough cleansing. I mean, you've already been my sexiest nurse, but y'know, sponge bath is a standard task." And shit, he has to distract himself real quick before the image of himself and Kate naked in the shower together starts to take over because Sexy Chicken is all fun and games until his junk actually aches from lack of follow through.

He's pretty proud of himself, in fact, in his restraint right now because he really wants to be tugging her clothes off and touching her and kissing her but no, bad. Well, okay, very good but bad for their current predicament with the whole being half immoble and shit. He closes his eyes, tries to go zen. "Category III. 2,500 tons. October 17, 2007. Los Angeles. Gipsy Danger, Becket brothers." He lets out a breath, settling into a smile and before Kate can ask, he explains, "Yamarashi, the little guy I've got inked over here." He lifts his arms up and points at his tattoo, eyes still closed. "This is what you've driven me to, reciting kaiju facts."

"Not sorry," she answers, propping herself up on her hand again, because she's tired, sure, but she's also fascinated by the tattoos and the stories behind them. He has his eyes closed, but he still points out the tattoo and she can see it pretty well in the half light of the bedroom, her eyes adjusted to the dark again. Besides, she's seen it before, it's the first one she looked at that day in the train station, the first one of his tattoos she put her hands on -- without asking, which is pretty much normal for her -- and she knows it pretty well by now.

"What about this one?" she asks, pointing to the tattoo further up his arm. She likes hearing the stories, partly because she knows she'll never have to deal with anything quite so terrifying and partly because she just likes tattoo stories. The one on her arm doesn't have much of one, but there's the one on her hip -- the one he hasn't seen yet -- that has a story to go along with it. And even so, she's pretty sure her story doesn't compare to any of his, given that she only got the tattoo because her mother turned into a teenaged girl and almost got the word slut tattooed on her body in huge letters. The tattoo on her hip is the compromise. A pay off for her silence about the whole incident.

"Eh, I'd rather you not be." He feels her moving next to him and feels kind of bad that he's inadvertently baited her into stay awake even longer but oh well, at least the topic has shifted from Kate being a sexy nurse to his tattoos, he could talk all day about his tattoos and it wouldn't be a problem; what's awesome is that he's pretty sure she wouldn't mind all too much. He smiles when she asks him about Onibaba--he doesn't have to peek to know which one she's pointing at.

"Category II, 57.3 meters tall, 2040 tons," he recites, no hesitation. "Breached May 16, 2016, three years after I got recruited to the PPDC." He opens his eyes again, his smile a little sadder now. "Cleared out most of Tokyo but it was... fascinating. Not the destruction, just the way it went about it, like he didn't want to fight. He'd actively try to avoid combat and even when it did attack, it was like, pretty much all defense. Almost like it didn't even want to be there." He chews on his lip as it all comes flooding back to him, as he gets a flash of Marshal Pentecost--or Coyote Tango, rather--taking Onibabo down and his body jolts. He tries to cover it, hopes Kate thinks it was just some involuntary reaction caused by his leg--though he knows she knows better--and just keeps talking. "I know it sounds like I have sympathy for them. Maybe it's true, to an extent, they're creatures that were engineered for one purpose, they were all just following orders. But if you think about what that means, how that was accomplished... It's pretty remarkable."

She notices the twitch and wonders what he's thinking, if he's remembering something else from the one he's talking about, and she rests her head on his chest for a moment. If she's quiet, she can hear his heart beating and it's that steady sound that calms her enough to not ask about it, because if it's something he wants to tell her, he will, and she doesn't need to know every single thought that goes through his mind.

Especially if they're not all his. That can't be a great feeling, she doesn't want to make it worse.

"What's remarkable?" she asks without moving her head. "I mean... I don't know anything about them, right? How was it accomplished?" She's glad she doesn't come from his world, because while it doesn't sound like Kansas ever ended up in the line of fire, she's pretty sure she would've ended up getting squashed anyway, because that's just her luck. But maybe because she's never had to deal with it, she finds it all kind of fascinating.

"That's the thing," he answers and now that they're into it, he pushes himself up so that he's sitting up a little, he needs room for potential hand gesturing. "The technology being used to create them is beyond what we have here, what we even had in 2025. The Precursors--the guys who made the kaiju, basically aliens--have been around... Christ, forever. Since before the dinosaurs. They tried the whole world takeover thing then, too, by the way. But they were able to take the same strand of DNA and clone these things over and over but evolve them, make them stronger and better and--" He cuts himself off with a sigh, bringing his hand to his face to rub over his stubble. "If we could do that here, it would change the world, y'know?"

He needs to get in a lab. It's starting to feel like an addiction flare-up, there's a craving in him to get his hands dirty. He's been fairly complacent since getting here, struggling to accept the fact that the past ten years of his life are basically moot because of the world he's in now, but the idea of getting back in the saddle and doing research that matters... it lights a spark in him.

When he sits up, she moves back a little, though not far, and tilts her head against the pillow to watch him as he speaks. He's so animated, even now in the middle of the night when she's just sort of useless and incoherent, and she smiles up at him. Although she's trying to listen -- and mostly succeeding, but he's keeping it pretty simple for her, she thinks -- she's caught up in the expression on his face more than anything.

"You need to go back to work, dude," she says as she leans against him again. "Like, pronto." She thinks he'll be a lot happier, not that she imagines he's particularly unhappy right now, but she knows a lot of that is the new relationship glow. She's right there alongside him, but she knows there are other things people need, and he's clearly good at what he does and he loves it. Not a lot of people get to have that.

"Shit, I know," he groans, putting his hands in his hair and tugging a little before letting them drop heavily back down on the mattress. "This is the worst." He frowns, gesturing between them. "Not this, this is awesome. I'd do this all day if we could, but y'know, muscle atrophy and what not." He's back to having no idea what he's saying but that's what he gets for getting all excitable over monsters and aliens and how freakin' fantastic science is.

"I'm going to that lab," he says firmly, and it's more a declaration for himself than for Kate. There's no debate in the matter, he's going and he's not leaving without a job. "Y'know, as soon as I look a little less pathetic."

"I don't know, looking pathetic might work to your advantage. You know, you could go in there on your crutches and look at them with your big eyes and try that shit on them," she points out, still smiling a little. "I mean, hell, it works on me like, all the time and I'm totally aware that you're doing it. They won't have any idea what hits them and you'll walk out of there owning the whole company or something."

She's pretty sure once he starts trying, he'll be able to find something easily. Maybe people in Darrow won't know what he's talking about when it comes to the kaiju, but she thinks the six doctorates and all the brainy science stuff that comes out of his mouth to back it up will be impressive enough. That's not even just blind faith in his awesomeness talking, she genuinely can't imagine him having trouble finding a job.

"Maybe don't tell them about climbing on chairs while on crutches, though," she suggests with a grin. "They might start to wonder what's wrong with you."

"The chair climbing thing demands respect," he counters, a smile playing at his lips. "Shows that I'm willing to go the extra mile to get the job done. Something like that. I think I'm about ready to climb a tree next." It's not even a pride thing. Okay, maybe it's a little bit of a pride thing, but Newt's not used to people telling him what to do--at least, telling him to do things he didn't want to do in the first place. He's still not, not really; he hates the fact that he can't climb chairs when he wants to or have sex with his girlfriend when the occassion arises. Truth be told, though, he knows he should and does appreciate having Kate there to yell at him until they just end up making out or talking him down in the earliest hours of the morning after a stupid nightmare.

He scoots a little closer to her, leaning his head against the arm she's propping herself up on. "Damn right I'll own it. Look out, Darrow, Geiszler's going to be making a comeback."

"Just as long as you don't forget me when you've taken over the city," she tells him, reaching down with her free hand to run her fingers through his hair. Although she doesn't doubt that he'd actually climb a tree just to prove he can, she's just going to ignore that part for now, because she's pretty sure the more she tells him not to do something, the more he's going to want to do it, and she knows this because it's exactly how she behaves a good chunk of the time. Her parents should have learned that when she was like, two, but they'd insisted on telling her all the things she couldn't do all the time. Which meant she had just turned around and done those things as often as she could. Which had sort of gotten her into trouble, but it's not like she's learned a lesson, she still does things people tell her she can't do.

She's starting to see why that might drive other people crazy, but at least she doesn't usually end up injured as a result.

"I still think the crutches and cast will earn you some sympathy points, though," she says. "Especially if you start working while it's still on, people will totally run around to get coffee for you, stuff like that. Could be worth it."

"Never," he promises. How could anyone ever forget her? He tries to imagine a future that involves her not being around or not being on his mind, and he just can't; he finds it even stranger to remember that his life had been void of Kate just a little over two months ago. He feels like he's known her for so much longer, especially lying here together like this with her fingers in his hair and just rambling on about things that are and aren't important. He knows it's a joke, the thing about forgetting her, but if--heh, when--he does take over the city, he expects her to be right there next to him. "Besides, we've discussed this before. Cabana boy off limits, et cetera, et cetera."

He raises an eyebrow, considering the sympathy angle, but ultimately shakes his head. "I'll make people do that anyway, pull the puppy dog thing at the most opportune moments, y'know?"

"I know, man," she says, grinning. "No cabana boys for either of us, it still stands, I'm totally on board." But that had just been when he was going to be a millionaire, not also the ruler of the city. Or maybe ruling the city had come into play there, too, she can't remember. Sometimes when they're together, talking about the most ridiculous things she tunes out a little, not because she's bored, but because she can't quite believe this is her life. Two months ago she'd been complaining to Jesse that she was lonely and ready to start looking for a dude to date, only that dating sucked and was awful and she wanted to avoid it as much as possible. Now she's here, lying in Newt's bed, talking to him about his work and getting him back to it, and it's so not what she expected for herself.

Which is probably why it's the happiest she remembers being in a long time.

"It's so not fair that you can do that big eyed thing and get people to do stuff for you," she tells him, poking his chest lightly. "Especially since we've established I'm shit at the same thing. I mean, okay, I have tits, which usually work the same way, so I guess I shouldn't complain."

"Did I promise about the cabana boys?" he asks, feigning confusion as he taps at his chin. "I guess I can officially agree to that."

He ducks his head, hiding a smile and maybe a hint of a blush because yeah, he's not going to lie, her breasts definitely have just a little bit of an effect on him. It's funny, though, considering the fact that boobs had not been on his list of priorities while working with the PPDC. Mako and Sasha had been the queen sof the 'Dome but Newt can't remember ever really taking any lust-laced notice--though that may be because Mako had pretty much been the Marshal's surrogate daughter and Sasha's husband could have crushed him with an index finger. "Well, it takes years and years of practice," he says with mock sincerity, rubbing at the spot she pokes at his chest. "You've got a much better advantage."

"Hey, if I have to promise no cabana boys, then so do you," she says with a laugh and she pokes him again, a little harder this time. She doubts either of them are going to be much for the roving eyes, though, she's kind of unable to do much of anything lately, it seems. At times she even finds herself bringing Newt up in conversation when there's absolutely no reason to and she's positive she has to be driving Carla Jean completely nuts.

"Yeah, boobs usually work out without much effort," she agrees, looking down at her chest briefly. She's got pretty great breasts, she's totally aware of that and has definitely used that to her advantage more than once. "And you don't even have to learn how to use them, the whole thing just happens pretty naturally."

"Fine, fine," he answers, throwing his hands up in the air like she's asked something outrageous. "No cabana boys, no nothin'." It's not like she has anything to worry about, which Newt is fairly sure she knows, hopes even more that she doesn't doubt.

"Lucky you," he says dryly, drumming his fingers against his own chest. "I'm pretty sure it's these eyes that kept me from getting killed by my black market buddy, rest in peace." He doesn't think that at all, actually, but it seems like just as good an explanation as any other--how they'd gone from Hannibal Chau throwing him to the mercy of the kaijus to personally escorting him to the site of a fallen Otachi, Newt doesn't know. Another theory he has is that Chau must have developed a weird sort of respect for a little guy who'd cheated death by kaiju and then showed up demanding a brain. Or maybe he'd just had a little crush. "But your thing might have worked, too."

"That could've been my job. Need something from a sketchy source? Bring Kate, she's super cute and has a great rack and can probably talk them into anything for you and is weirdly fearless when it comes to her own personal safety," she says with a snort of laughter. She still remembers her first day at the debt collection agency, that weirdo dude who sat behind her asking if she could get to yes and telling him that was just what girls did. It's just been one of those things she's always been good at, getting her way, although she's pretty sure it's not always due to the fact that she's cute and more due to the fact that she's completely relentless when she wants something and is willing to do just about anything to get it.

The whole personal safety thing maybe isn't something to be super proud of, she knows, but it's just not something she thinks about until she's being mugged or stalked or her creepy manager has broken into her house in an attempt to get her to run away with him. Or she's being stabbed by a crazy girl on an island. There's kind of a disturbingly long list of stupid situations she's gotten herself into, now that she thinks about.

"Okay, so maybe the personal safety bit is a bad thing," she admits. "But the rest works."

"Yeah, you'd definitely strike fear into the hearts of all competing Chinese black market crime lords," he replies with a laugh of his own. The though of Kate going head-to-head with Chau--rather, head-to-chest, which had been his own case--is kind of ridiculously awesome and come on, how would Chau even say no to a face like hers? He's thinking she's probably right, she could totally take all those big creeper types; especially when being on the receiving end of her tendency to be endlessly persistent in getting what she wants She's definitely worn him down, in the best possible way, he's pretty sure there's no way he could say no to her at this point. If only Hermann could see him now.

Personal safety, though, there's a thing he's never really paid a whole lot of attention to in his life span. "Personal safety is totally overrated," he says. "World would totally be fucked if I wasted two seconds being concerned about that, so meh."

"Okay, valid point on your part, but you still ended up with nose bleeds and shitty dreams," she points out and she totally doesn't want to get into a serious conversation with him about his health again. It makes her worry enough just to think about it on her own, she doesn't want the both of them lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he's going to be okay. He is going to be okay, that's all there is to it, because there's no way in hell she's meeting someone like him just to lose him right away to something like giant monster memories.

"And, anyway, I don't have that reasoning, dude. I've never saved the world, all I've ever done is get myself into stupid situations that pretty much benefit absolutely no one, least of all myself. Like, who decides that engaging in risky behaviour with someone clearly less than stable is a good idea? Because shit like that usually ends with people being stalked and like, harassed and just generally not good stuff. No saving the world there, just plain old stupidity." It's not that she thinks she's stupid, she just knows she made some less than stellar decisions in the past.

He tries not to flinch at that--not because she's offended him in some way or anything, it's just that for a minute, he'd almost forgotten the reason they're both even awake right now. He clears his throat, rubbing at his eyes like he can rub his worry from his mind and manages to nod because if he's silent any longer, she'll know for sure something's off and he doesn't want her to think that. At least, not any more than she already does. "Beats the alternative. Although, Chuck definitely beat the odds so I guess it's possible I could have, too."

"To be fair," he counters, "I've had about 15 more years worth of chances to be stupid. And I know plenty of people who would attest to the fact that they think I am, genius thing aside. You make choices, you deal with the consequences, you learn from it. That's how it is and hell, that's a bare bones simplification of how science works, too. Besides, you may not have saved the world but you definitely saved me. From, y'know, bleeding on the floor. More than once."

"Yeah, without me, you'd be totally screwed," she says dryly, but she's smiling a little against his arm. No one's ever really needed her and he hasn't used those exact words, but the implication is still kind of that she'd been necessary to have around. At least twice. And she's fine with not being needed, because it's not like her tendency to blow people off and be a general asshole is the kind of thing anyone needs in their life, but it's nice all the same. Nicer than she's ever realized.

"So is that why I'm being kept around? To be your nurse?" she asks in a teasing voice, tilting her head back slightly to look up at him. "I mean, I know we talked about the sponge bath thing, but I didn't realize I was so important in the whole not bleeding on the floor aspect of your life." She keeps thinking about how she should let him go back to sleep, how much she'd like to be sleeping again, but she likes this more. She's warm and comfortable and content, curled up against Newt's side in his bed, knowing he'll still be there in the morning. "I mean, I guess as relationship standards go, that's less weird than some others I've had."

He murmurs back a sound of agreement at that because okay, no, he wouldn't be like, dead or anything; but he'd definitely have woken up in the middle of the night totally freaked out and alone with nobody to talk him down, nobody to act as an anchor; and that's what she's been, an anchor, someone he's been able to count on from the start of all this. He doesn't think Chuck would be all that enthusiastic to come over and cuddle with him or listen to him whisper cutesy things in German. Chuck certainly wouldn't suggest a game of Sexy Chicken as an exhale.

"Not just to be a nurse, you're nice to look at, too," he shoots back, rolling his eyes playfully. "Well, you were there for the actual bleeding onto the floor, and you still stuck around. So that definitely counts for something." It counts for a whole lot, actually, not that he would ever have thought she'd bail on him just for getting in the way of a car or anything, but the relationship had still been pretty new--by some standards, might even still be considered pretty new--and she could have washed her hands of resopnsibility. But she hadn't. So here they are.

"Yeah, I'm totally adorable, I'm glad your priorities are straight," she says with a laugh, rolling onto her back, one arm throw over her head. She drums her fingers absently on the wall behind them, tapping lightly as Newt speaks and then she looks over at him again, her smile softening. Maybe this is the same way he feels when she thanks him for sticking around after the creepy casket incident, because she can't imagine not sticking around. He's saying it counts for something, but she thinks it's maybe a little more selfish than he realizes. She'd stayed with him the night of the accident because the idea of leaving him, the idea of not knowing, not being around, it had made her feel like her chest was made of a block of ice. She'd stayed because the alternative had been way too awful for her to deal with.

"Only a total dickbag would show up to meet someone for karaoke and then bail when they found him lying on the sidewalk," she says. "Especially when he was trying to buy them flowers. I mean, seriously dude, a guy gets injured buying you flowers and that's it. You're done. You owe him at least a few more dates." She's teasing, grinning over at him, because she clearly has no intention of just giving him a few more dates and then moving on. She's here, she has no intention of going anywhere.

"Oh, always," he laughs, which actually is true of him. Granted, his priorities don't always make sense to other people or line up with what might be considered particularly normal or legitimate, but he doesn't really care about that. Kate really has been his priority lately, which he knows could easily come off as overwhelming, and he's glad he hasn't gotten the sense that she wants him to back off or anything. Though that might have something to do with the fact that she's had to be the one to come to him, what with him being temporarily immobile.

"It was all a ploy," he says, his tone playful in spite of the subject matter because yeah, it had been a really shitty thing that happened to him but he's come out on the other end okay. Better to be able to joke about it now than be mopey every time it comes up, right? It's not like he'd actually lost his leg, after all. "I really just wanted you to nurse me back to health so that we could almost have sex and you could see me bleed from my nose all over the bathroom floor. It's cute, right? I mean, clearly it's been working."

"Clearly," she agrees and although her tone is dry, she's actually serious. She knows none of this has really been a ploy to get her to stick around and if the accident hadn't happened, she's pretty sure they'd still be here right now, maybe even talking about the nightmares, although maybe they'd just be having sex instead, because she's pretty sure getting laid would be a great distraction. Either way, she doesn't think much would change if he hadn't been hit by a car, but there is the possibility that it's brought them closer a lot quicker. Between what happened to her and what happened to him, they've kind of seen some of the shittier sides of life already, and it's all been within such a short period of time that she wonders if she'd be feeling the way she does if she hadn't already seen how willing he is to stick around for her.

"You're always cute, so bloody nose or not, I'm pretty sure I'm fully into you," she tells him with a soft laugh. "But, you know, as far as ploys go, next time you might want to think of one that doesn't keep us from having sex. I mean, if there's a ploy in your repertoire that doesn't end with broken limbs, I vote for that one next time."

He meets her gaze, though it's strangely difficult all of a sudden to maintain the eye contact. Sometimes gravity sets in when he looks at her, during times like now when they're laughing and teasing and just enjoying each other's company at the ass crack of dawn, and his heart gives a lurch because he thinks that maybe losing her would fuck him up a lot more than anything else. He'd thought he'd woken up to the end of the world--or his world, rather--when he'd realized Darrow's a city without kaiju but really, what would he do if woke up one day somewhere else in a city without Kate?

It kickstarts his compulsion to talk, not that it ever really goes away, especially not with someone who enjoys talking as much as he does. But he lifts the corners of his mouth into a smile and small as it may seem, it's genuine. "Hey, thanks, you're not so bad yourself," he retorts and her words have already put him at ease as he tries but fails to keep a straight face. His anchor. And she's right, as far as ploys go, claiming responsibility for the one that forces them to keep their pants on probably isn't his best move. "I promise that next time, I will try not to break any limbs. But then there's the time after that, and I just can't see that far into the future, I might lose an arm entirely. Maybe both my arms. Will you still like me if I'm armless Newt?"

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