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 said I want the first time we sleep together to be special," she answers, trying not to laugh, surprised by how easy it is to talk about this with him. Technically, she also just said she didn't want to be drunk, but she's kind of really come around to the idea of making a big deal out of it. She's never done anything like that before. "I didn't say anything about first handjob." And she's mostly teasing, but also kind of not really. There are plenty of things she's willing to do for him -- and to him -- before they have sex, but she's also just as willing to wait if he sort of wants to have it all at the same time.

"Looks like you're out of luck with growing some tits tonight," she says with a laugh when he whines. "Sorry, dude. We'll have to wait on telling everyone I have the hottest girlfriend in Darrow." She's pretty sure it would be the truth, though, if he had actually somehow managed to turn himself into a woman just by wishing for it. "Maybe if you ask for it for your birthday it'll happen."

"My pain means nothing to you," he deadpans, giving her a woeful look before rolling over onto his stomach, being careful of his stupid mummified leg. "It's too risky anyway. We get each other all worked up and all naked and boom, we accidentally do the thing." It's not like they're not both functioning adults who know how to use words, but the scenario he's just painted definitely isn't improbably now that he thinks more on it. He's pretty sure all it would take is like, one raised eyebrow on her side before he takes it as a sign that they should just go to town. But no, as much as he's being bratty and acting like the blames lies with her, he does admit that he's totally up for making it a romantic evening--not that it wouldn't be special otherwise but the thought of doing something like that for her is too hard to resist.

"That's not too far off," he replies, squinting to himself as he counts the days in his head. Just under two months. "I can wait." He's not a very patient man but when it comes to miracles of science, he'd to just about anything.

When he rolls over, she shifts back to give him room, then turns onto her side, facing him. Stroking her fingertips against his shoulder absently, she smiles and then sighs heavily, as if he's expecting something huge from her. "I was trying to prevent pain," she points out, laughing at the look he gives her, but it doesn't matter now anyway. They've decided to wait and she's excited by that prospect, even if it is fun to tease him about it now. The thing is, he's probably right, they'd probably end up doing it just by accident and she smiles softly, her eyes closing again.

"Man, your birthday is way too close to Christmas." She hasn't given much thought to the holidays or gifts just yet, because it's still ages away and Kate's always been behind when it comes to stuff like that. There's one idea, though, she's been sitting on and she's pretty sure that it's going to be Newt's Christmas gift, but then his birthday comes right after and she'll have to come up with something even better. "What if I use up all my good gift ideas for Christmas and then just get you some socks or something for your birthday?"

"If you get me socks for Christmas, I'll never speak to you again," he teases, nudging her foot with his own under the covers. "Unless they're like, dino socks. I'm down with dino socks." He chews on his bottom lip at the thought of Christmas and gifts and good ideas because he has no clue what to get for anyone. He has a ton more friends here in Darrow than he'd had in Hong Kong--where he'd had exactly two, Hermann and Tendo, and even then, it'd been kind of hard to celebrate and think hard on gifts when the fate of the world rested on their shoulders--so he's not used to having to come up with this stuff anymore.

He wants to get her something awesome even though she could give him a goddamn grain of sand from the beach and he'd be overjoyed because like, sentiment or something. He turns his head to brush his lips over the fingers on his shoulder and gives a quiet sigh. "It's going to be so different," he comments and if he sounds a little far away, it's because he is. "Actually having people to celebrate with this year? I've missed it."

"Me, too," she says softly, settling her head down against the pillow, her fingers still moving against his skin without thought. It's not like she didn't have anyone on the island, but it was different. The island had always changed during December, thrown them into a world unlike the one they were used to and the only memories she has of Christmas are mostly strained. She remembers being freezing cold last year, unable to warm up, huddled in as many goddamn shawls as she could find and refusing to move from her spot in front of the fire.

This will be different. This is more like home.

"I should get a tree," she mumbles, though she's not sure why she's thinking about it now. They're both relaxed, she thinks she might actually be able to fall asleep again. "And a wreath. And lots of mistletoe so I can just make you kiss me every time you turn around."

"I mean, you don't need mistletoe for that but 'tis the season." He grins at the thought of how totally gross they're going to be once he's out of this cast, how he won't be able to keep his hands off her and all their friends are going to be horrified by how attractive a couple they are. But hey, it's his first Christmas being surrounded by people who actually like him in a long time and definitely his first Christmas spent with a girlfriend.

It's not like he's spent all these years moping around, hell no, he'd show up to lab in a crappy, old Santa hat and poke around kaiju guts until Hermann yelled at him for getting entrails on his side of the room and the hat would be thrown in Hermann's face and then it would proceed like any other day. He's never minded it, Hermann had been closest to what he could consider family at the 'Dome--but this time, here, he remembers what it's like to have loved ones around. "I might not leave your apartment if you get that tree, though, I've got what might actually be a physical attraction ot the smell of evergreen."

"So if I rub myself in a pine tree, you'll pretty much do whatever I want?" Kate asks with a laugh and maybe she's joking, but maybe this is also pretty handy information to have at her disposal. She's not sure she wants to go around smelling like a tree all the time, but she figures she could probably arrange to deal with it sometimes. Just for Newt. Mostly for herself, though, if he's really that into it.

"Y'know, the island had this magic mistletoe that would trap people under it," she says and it's just one more thing on a long list of stuff she doesn't miss. The mistletoe hadn't been the end of the world, really, except when she'd been caught under it and had to kiss Jeff. Even then, not the worst thing that could have happened to her, given that there had been some kind of creepy ass serial killer running around at the same time, but it had been pretty terrible. "I got stuck under it once with the guy my dog is named after and it was pretty much the most disgusting moment of my life, but we couldn't just stay there forever and hope someone else might come save us. It was gross."

He tilts his head, simultaneously intrigued and amused by the image of Kate rolling around in the scent of evergreen and hey, it's not a crime, he thinks it's maybe kind of a turn-on. "I mean, I'm not saying you should like, smother yourself with car fresheners or y'know, dive into a sea of Christmas trees. But uh, yeah, I'd say you'd definitely have some free reign." Not that she doesn't already; he's hardly in a position to put up any sort of fight as it is but he also doesn't think she'd find much resistance having her way with him.

He scrunches his nose at her magic mistletoe story because Christ, that sounds terrible. He can't even think of a single person at the 'Dome that would be less than gross to kiss in a situation like that--Mako and Sasha are, of course, the primary candidates but there's also the fact that a kiss with either of them would most likely lead to a painful, painful death at the hands of the Marshal or Sasha's mister. "Get that mistletoe for this year," he tells her, reaching to cup her cheek and leaning in to give her a soft, sweet kiss. "We'll replace that icky memory with lots of really good ones."

Smiling into the kiss, she reaches up, covering his hand with her own. "I intend on spending every available moment this Christmas making out with you," she assures him, as if there was ever another option. "And I'll appreciate every second of it and appreciate the attempt, but nothing will scrub that memory from my mind. Nothing." She'd kind of thought Jeff was hot when they'd first met, but she remembers mentioning that to Britta and getting an earful about what a jerk he was, not to mention way too old for her, and she can't help but grin a little, because she wonders what they'd all think now, dating someone a little older than Jeff. Either way, that hadn't lasted long, and he'd become way more like family within months, which she's sure he actually loved despite his continued protests whenever she referred to him as her Island Father.

"He was crankier than Danny," she says. "And he liked to pretend he didn't care about anything, but he did. He cared about a lot of things." He'd cared about her, he'd kept her safe, he'd protected her. Even if he'd bitched about it the whole time. And she doesn't really need protecting anymore, not in the same way, but she still wishes he was here to do it so they could fight about it.

Edited 2013-12-18 13:31 (UTC)

"I guess that's out of my hands until I create like, a memory-erasing machine, but I'm not mad about the making out part," he tells her, going for a kiss just to show her how much he doesn't mind. He'd already been looking forward to Christmas but the promise of endless make-outs makes the whole thing all the more alluring. Because if he's honest, as much as he loves the idea of spending time with the friends he's made here during the holiday, he'll still be entirely satisfied if he spends it just with her.

"Crankier than Danny?" he asks incredulously, though his smile betrays his tone. "I wouldn't have ever thought that possible. Hermann was kind of like that, always grumbling about something. Mostly grumbling about me. It took me a long time to figure it out and maybe him, too, but... He gave a shit. Maybe even more than the one."

"I think I'd like Hermann," she decides, based off almost nothing except Newt's description of him grumbling a lot. For whatever reason, she seems to do really well with grumpy men who grumble and act put out and basically like to pretend that they have no feelings. She's good at getting under that shell and finding the feelings and even making them own up to them every now and then. She has no idea how it happened, it's not like her dad was ever a particularly gruff guy. Given the crazy life he'd been dragged into, he'd been pretty good about expressing himself when it was necessary. In fact, Kate's pretty sure her complete lack of filter comes from him instead of her mother.

"I feel like I collect dudes who mutter under their breath and pretend everything annoys them," she says, smiling. "I think it's just because they're way more fun to pester than almost anyone else."

"I think you would, too," he admits, threading his fingers through hers. Hermann is infuriating and irritating and bitchy and moany but for all that, he'd always been there when it mattered most. Hell, he'd always been there, to the point that people in the 'Dome had found it strange when the Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb weren't side-by-side. "He'd totally give you a hard time, though," he adds, laughing softly. "Tell you that you could do way better than an immature little shithead like me. He'd probably be more eloquent about it, though."

Newt knows it would be a stamp of approval, the jabs, and he gives a quiet sigh at the thought that Kate would probably never get a chance to meet his partner--his best friend. That sigh becomes a chuckle at her grumpy guy collection and he nods in agreement. "You and me both. You've met some of my friends here, Chuck? Derek? Christ. Sawyer, he's a little more sociable but still has the potential to snap your neck. And oh god, Owen. Pretty much the exact same as Hermann, they even look exactly alike, it freaked me the fuck out when I first saw him."

"He'd be wrong," she says, smiling softly, her eyes closed. "Eloquent or not, he'd be wrong." And it's not even a matter of better or worse, she's come to realize, it's just a matter of right or not right. Whatever the reasons, whatever it is that works about them, it is right, she can feel that. "And I'd totally fight him on that, too, it'd be fun." She's always liked fighting and she's pretty sure, from the way Newt describes him, Hermann would be fun to fight with.

"Aw, no, Sawyer was super sweet to me," she says, opening her eyes again. "I mean, so was Chuck, actually. I think I just have something about me that makes the grumpy guys really nice, which is funny, since I'm not usually all that nice." What he says next gets a laugh out of her and she nods. "Yeah, that's always kind of creepy the first time it happens, isn't it? I'm sort of just glad I've never met anyone wearing my face, that would be even creepier than just having six friends who all look alike." Maybe she's never gotten as high as six, but she's definitely had three friends who all look the same with just a few variations.

"You say that now," he says and his tone is playful as he gazes at the smile on her face, her eased expression. He loves that he gets to see her like this, open and with no guard up, because even though she's such a bright and easygoing person as it is, these moments are just between them. Nobody else gets to see her the way she is now, the way she is when they're together. He almost tells her right then and there, when she's not even looking at him, that he's in love with her. That a majority of his thoughts involve her and when he'll see her next, what they'll do, what they'll talk about; which he blames her entirely for, by the way, this whole thing is definitely her fault. "Give it like a year or two, maybe even a week or two, you'll be wondering why the hell you ever bothered to put up with me."

"They're good guys," he agrees. "even if they act all macho sometimes." He doesn't think he'd formed such deep attachments to them if he hadn't, it's not like Newt acts overtly masculine or knows what it's like to benchpress anything at all ever even one time. And okay, yeah, on occasion he can be a bit of a spaz but he thinks he's a pretty good judge of character, definitely tends not to waste his time on people who can't bring something to the table that is his relationships with them. "I wouldn't be mad if there were six of you running around but we've had the clone conversation already. Original's always best anyway."

"No way," she says, shaking her head as best she can while lying down. "I won't wonder that." She's not just putting up with him, she's here because she really, really wants to be, because she can't imagine another place in this city right now where she'd rather be. His bed is warm and it smells like him and he's lying here beside her and even though he's injured and the whole nightmare thing keeps worrying at the back of her mind, he's here. And he's with her. She doesn't have that anywhere else. Even the thought of looking ahead a year or two doesn't scare her now. If she's honest with herself, when she looks at her future in Darrow there's not a whole lot that seems certain, but she does know she wants him to be there.

"That's different, though," she says. "Owen's a totally different person, right? I had three friends, Olive, Ginny and Wichita, all very different people, man, but their faces... shit. They all looked so much alive, but they're nothing like each other. There is no original, you know? They're all the original where they come from, no one's been made from the others. There's this movie with a girl who looks exactly like me, she's a singer in some super famous band and this guy on the island thought I was her at first."

She sounds so earnest in her denial that Newt can't help but believe her--not that he's down on himself or thinks that nobody could stomach him for very long; hell, Hermann had done it for a decade and he doesn't anticipate half as many fights over anything especially serious with Kate. But right now, hearing her say that, it puts him at complete ease, like there's nothing to worry about. Two years from now, he doesn't just want her to be there, doesn't just hope she's there, he's going to make damn sure that she is.

It had happened so fast, this thing between them, but he doesn't think it's because they're reckless or hopelessly romantic--both of them may very well be the first but he's never been much of the latter--it's because they're right for each other, he feels it, more importantly knows it. It's like she's already got him down to a science.

"Weirdly, Owen is pretty much a second Hermann. But yeah, definitely not a cookie-cutter copy." He wonders what it would be like to come across someone with his own face and his first thought is awesome but he can see how it would be a tad discomfiting. "Kinda creepy. But also kinda cool, if I'm honest."

"It's weird sometimes," she says, her voice softer. Generally, she does her best not to think about the fact that there's a movie out there with someone who looks exactly like she does. She's always had an easy time dealing with the idea that her friends and her ex-boyfriend might have been fictional at some point, but trying to apply that idea to her own life is deeply unsettling and not something she likes to dwell on for very long. There aren't many things that are off limits to Kate, but that's one thing she just has a hard time with no matter how she tries to frame it and so she shakes her head, frowning.

"Nope, topic change," she decides. "It creeps me out too much, thinking of someone else out there with my face." It just makes her wonder if her own life had been consumed for entertainment somehow, too, and she hates that. It makes her angry and it scares her, even though she doesn't want to admit to either of those things. The fact that it scares her just makes her angrier. "I'll talk about anything else, though."

He finds it all very fascinating, that they live in a world now where this sort of thing is a possibility--doppelgangers, fiction people come to life--though the thought that his entire life could just be, in someone else's eyes, some big fairy tale story made up for entertainment is discomfiting. He knows who he is, there's no way his life hasn't been real, but then he remembers that there's a Spider-Man running around town and Newt wonders if Spider-Man has trouble accepting the fact that people know him from comic books.

"Anything else, huh?" he asks, very much on board with the subject shift now. "Got any suggestions? Questions? Concerns?"

"You sound like a customer service call centre when you say it like that," she says with a giggle, shifting her head so she can better look at him. She can feel herself getting kind of silly again, partly because of the fact that she's still awake and partly just to counter how unsettling she finds their previous topic. Putting on a proper, polite voice, she says, "Tell us, Kate, are you satisfied with the performance of your Newton Geiszler? Do you have any questions or concerns about the product?"

She turns toward him, resting her arm over his chest again, her nose pressed against the curve of his throat and she smiles. "I guess I'd have to tell them I was pretty satisfied. I mean, I wonder if they'd ask me to rate you on a scale of one to ten." He'd get a pretty high rating, maybe a twelve or thirteen, mostly because Kate's never like the constraints of the whole one to ten thing and has always felt the urge to go beyond it whenever people ask her to rate anything. It's probably a huge pain in the ass, especially when she's getting a real phone call about the service she received somewhere, but she doesn't really care.

His body shakes with laughter as he rubs at his eyes because Christ, he's fucking tired and he knows she's got to be exhausted, too, but this--staying up until the ass crack of dawn just talking, which he's most certainly many times but not in bed with anyone who'd really acted like they cared about what he had to say--feels so nice and whether she realizes it or not, he thinks it's a true testament to how much he feels safe putting his trust in her. He's always quick to assume nothing can touch him, it's why he'd been so eager to jump into the den of a goddamn crime lord, not to mention the brain of two kaijus, but he doesn't mind being vulnerable with her and that's a pretty big deal for him.

He hates giving anyone a reason to think he's weak, had been so angry at himself after that first drift for letting the Marshal and even Hermann see him shaking and crying and a wreck. Not that he's exactly super willing to cry in front of her all the time, absolutely not, that's not really a thing he does; but he wants to let her in, make sure he doesn't push her away even if there's a part him that tells him maybe he should. "I don't come with a warranty," he warns, trailing his fingers over her back. "No returns or exchanges, either. Not even for store credit."

"That's okay, you're definitely the only one I want," she murmurs, a shiver following his fingers up the length of her back. "Except I'm starting to think I should see if I can maybe purchase an extended warranty or something, especially since you don't even come with one to begin with. Seems like a serious oversight." Sometimes it's the only way she can talk about the more serious things, making a joke out of it, but she's entirely sincere in her way. She wants him here and she wants him here for a long time, not just for a few weeks or months, not just until something else comes along, because she can't imagine anything else being like this.

"Besides, what would I even exchange you for? Some way less adorable and brilliant dude? Boring. I'm totally satisfied with the current model," she teases. "Like, scale of one to ten, I'd probably give you a twelve. That's valid, right?"

"It does, right? I'm already damaged," he says, gesturing to his cast, and he has a smile on his face but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's not the leg he's sparing worry about, he knows it'll heal, it's not as big of a deal to him as he might have made it if not for his new friend, the nightmares. He wonders if Owen would do him a solid and check him out more thoroughly, maybe even do a full scan, just in case. Newt's never really cowered from the possibility of anything but the thought that what's in his head could do real damage--which he knows it can, he's seen it happen, he's read the research files--freaks him out more than he cares to admit.

But even if he's freaked out, that doesn't mean Kate has to be, too. So he widens his smile and offers another laugh. "A twelve is like, bare minimum, I'm at least a fourteen. Good to know you're satisfied, though, I'd hate to think I wasn't living up to my full potential."

"Fourteen?" she asks, laughing against his shoulder. If she never had to move from this place, she thinks she might be perfectly okay with that. Her eyelids feel heavy, but she's not at that point where she's exhausted and grumpy and just wants to sleep, she's just comfortable and relaxed and really content. "Really, that's what we're going for? I mean, just jumping straight off the scale to fourteen?" She pauses, pretending she's considering it for a moment, then sighs heavily, a rush of air against his skin.

"Yeah, okay, fourteen is probably pretty close to what I'd land on." She laughs again, her eyes closed, resting against him. "Y'know, this is as bad as the points chart. We're apparently just shit at actually staying on any sort of scale or chart, even the ones we've completely made up on our own."

He's about ready to come back with an argument with supportive evidence as to why, exactly, he's totally a fourteen minimum, but then she's conceding and he nods, satisfied. "Fourteen," he repeats, and he sounds smug but there's a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I'm glad we can come to an agreement on that. I don't know what you're talking about, though, our charts and scales are flawless. We just happen to be exponentially superior in our charting and scaling methods."

He glances down at her, smiling when he sees her eyes closed and stroking at her hair. He's reminded then of something his mother used to tell him when he was young, a lullaby of sorts though she'd never really put a tune to it. He surprises himself when the words come spilling out of him, in German no less, like it's only been twenty-five minutes rather than twenty-fives years since he's last heard it.

"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf. Am Himmel ziehn die Schaf. Die Sternlein sind die Lämmerlein, Der Mond, der ist das Schäferlein. Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf." He kisses the top of her head, then her temple, and repeats it softly in English. "Sleep, baby, sleep. Your father tends the sheep. Your mother shakes the branches small, lovely dreams in showers fall. Sleep, baby, sleep."

"My father would totally tend sheep," she mumbles, only half paying attention to the words, because it's more just the sound of Newt's voice that she's listening to, the way the inflection changes when he's speaking German, and she knows they've both just been talking about how angry German sounds, but she doesn't think that anymore. It sounds sort of nice now, she thinks, and she realizes she's drifting off to sleep, that she'd wanted to stay awake until he fell asleep first, but she can't seem to stop herself.

It's his fault. For making her feel so comfortable, for the fingers she can feel in her hair and his lips against her temple. "This is all your fault," she manages to say, but she's smiling when she speaks. "You're supposed to fall asleep first."

This is the moment Blaine was talking about. The moment she knows. She doesn't have to wonder about it anymore.

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not cool, brain, not cool

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