Work Text:
“Dan, you’re staring at me again.”
“Am I?” Dan caught himself and smiled, nervously looking away from Herbert at last; up the stone steps to the courthouse doors. People came and went in a sea all around them, unbothered by the two gawking tourists who’d apparently never laid eyes on a municipal building before. Dan’s fidgeting hands adjusted the collar under his sweater until -
“Let me, ” Herbert groused, turning to stand in front of Dan, his hands rising up to bat the other man’s away. Dan acquiesced immediately, deflating under Herbert’s direction - but not without the fondest little smile, his head tilted to the side as soon as he realized this gave him ample opportunity to study the smaller man again.
Everything about him was a reminder as to what today was. The sun was shining, and it brought the unexpected pink out in Herbert’s complexion - a flush across either of his lightly-freckled cheeks, a rosiness of life to his skin that was normally lost beneath luminescent lights.
People thought Herbert West was cold, and they’d be right - to a degree. His poor circulation in his hands led to him repeatedly flexing his fingers between batches of brewed reagent, green-hazel eyes transfixed on anything except the living. Dan could’ve stood behind him for hours and gone unnoticed, were it not for the occasional ask for help - or, even rarer, input - that came from seemingly out of left field.
“Your shirt’s already wrinkled,” the shorter man muttered. He was made slightly taller by the step he stood on ahead of Dan, albeit still a full four inches or so shorter than the man in question. Dan bit back a laugh as his sweater was wrenched into place over his collared shirt, Herbert tossing up his hands in exasperation after the fact. “If there was ever a time to wear a suit–”
“Oh, it’s that special, huh?” Herbert’s face went slack save for the narrowing of suspicious eyes behind buggy lenses. Dan fought back another smile - and lost tremendously. Titters followed, shaking broad shoulders. “Herbert, it’s alright to admit you’re excited about this.”
“I am not excited, Dan ,” said Herbert - with all the sullen attitude of a teenager. Adjusting his glasses, he gave his lab partner one last once-over, sniffed disapprovingly, and began storming up the rest of the steps without further ado. Dan chased after him, catching up with ease on much longer legs.
“Does it upset you to know I don’t even own a suit?” Herbert shot Dan an affronted look sidelong, then, scowling, glanced forward again.
“What about that powder-blue monstrosity you keep in the back of the guest-room closet, hm ?” Dan’s face flamed unexpectedly.
“Oh, you uh - you saw that, huh? That was from prom, Herbert–it’s not like I’d be able to squeeze back into it now –”
“I don’t see why not,” said the scientist haughtily, “you’ve hardly changed since then, I’m sure.” Dan reached out, and, this time, halted Herbert three steps from the building’s entrance. Scanning his face - noting how he cast his eyes to the side, the hunch of his body - Dan knew if nothing else, there was something Herbert wasn’t telling him.
“Herb,” Dan said softly, “look at me.” The protrusion of a prominent bottom lip drew another snort. “Don’t just pout, hey - look at me,” Dan grinned as he finally caught Herbert’s eye - a harder feat not yet found in terms of scientific successes. “What is it, huh? You want me to go back and put on the suit?”
“ No, ” said Herbert forcibly, scowling a little. His voice dropped to a mutter after the fact when he realized Dan wasn’t going to give up so easily. “You’d look ridiculous in it anyway.”
“Hey, only one of us can pull off a suit,” Dan pointed out - then gently tugged Herbert’s lapels into place. He paused only when pale hands slipped over his own and squeezed, holding him there briefly. People flowed all around them, forking neatly out of the way. Down below, traffic proceeded, and the world spun madly on.
“Dan,” Herbert said quietly, “are you…” he didn’t seem able to finish the thought. Pleading eyes asked Dan to fill in the blank, and - as he had so many times before - Dan caught the hint.
It shouldn’t have been so easy. To understand Herbert West, to be on similar pages to a man whose masterful attempts at reanimating the dead should’ve set him apart from the rest in all ways. Dan counted himself blessed, in some twisted sense of the word - not that Herbert endorsed any kind of talk like that.
But it’d been apparent from the moment they swung into step [literally; Dan, wielding a bat, charging down a reanimated Rufus] that there was something unspoken they understood in one another.
And Dan had, for the past four months of planning between experiments; leading up to this moment, been trying to find a way to put it to words. How did a person describe the indescribable? This was why all his essays in English muddled by on a C to a B-, if he was lucky. Dan was far too busy daydreaming through scattered, cloudlike thoughts when not immersed bodily in the work he and Herbert got up to.
Herbert and his work were one and the same, and they had, in many ways, reanimated Dan Cain’s life. Changed the way he thought and viewed the world. Changed what he considered beautiful, what he considered possible…!
How’s that for an opening line?
“We should go in,” Herbert said, clearing his throat. “If you still….” Dan, jarred back to the moment, nodded and dropped his hands - one slipping down briefly to hook one of Herbert’s own with a pinkie. This time, it took absolutely zero effort to fill in that blank.
“I do,” he said, and the cunning smile that followed earned him an exasperated stare. “What? C’mon.”
“ Low-hanging fruit, Daniel, ” said Herbert pointedly - but nevertheless, Dan swore he caught a smile curling up the corner of his mouth.
From thereon out, it was surprisingly easy.
They walked into the hall together, not quite holding hands - Herbert would’ve never allowed for it. They passed undetected through the hallways, town officials, a few courtrooms adjourning, following confusing signs up and down more stairs until Herbert forced Dan to stop and ask for directions - far be it from Herbert West to ask anyone else where to go.
Eventually, they made it to their destination - a quiet corner of the courthouse that was mundane beige with maroon rugs, pale and peeling prints of old-timey “art” on its walls. High windows hardly let in any light, and Dan jokingly nudged Herbert as they entered, motioning around the room with his eyes.
“Basement,” he explained with a smile, and Herbert merely grunted.
“Gentlemen, you must be my two o’clock.” The man behind the podium was just a bit older than them, not robed like a judge, with a thin face and gray at his temples. He was shorter even than Herbert, which seemed a feat, with kind, sparkling brown eyes and horn-rimmed glasses. “After you, I’ll be off for the day.”
“Well, we’ll try not to keep you too long,” Dan promised. His heart was starting to kick up again in earnest, frantic pounding thundering in his burning ears. Herbert beside him had gone awfully still and silent, stiffer than even the stiffs they pulled out of the morgue.
Even so, even now, his face was pink, and Dan could tell from his current angle that Herbert’s lower lip was trembling.
“Are we ready to begin?” The man asked lightly, looking between them. Herbert was gripping his black bag for dear life, looking stonily ahead despite how much he seemed to suddenly balk at the idea of…all of this. Dan’s heart twinged.
Maybe he’d forced this. Maybe five years was still too soon. Maybe everything they’d been through hadn’t been enough. Maybe Herbert read things differently.
But Herbert West didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. I mean, g-d knows he doesn’t eat anything I don’t put directly in front of him on top of human remains, Dan thought - then laughed, softly, to himself, shaking his head. Crazy. That was crazy. It was crazy and repulsive and wrong - to most.
Herbert was right for him. Dan knew that now. Knew how much he couldn’t stand to be around other people these days - how he had lapsed, a few times, with Francesca, then with Roger - but those were short-lived things. Dull things. Francesca was vivacious, full of life, and far too outgoing. Roger had been a jealous need for release that turned into a box of usable parts when Dan realized just how wrong he’d been.
Nobody had what Herbert had, and what he had was everything Dan needed.
How in the world could they turn around now?
“I’m ready,” Dan said, and then - for once without a mile of smoke or ice between them, without fire or blood - stretched out his hand. Herbert’s eyes darted to Dan’s face, then down to the offered item in question. Had he a way to remove it, Dan would’ve let him.
He was giving it in marriage. Why not to the work? One and the same.
Unexpectedly, almost shyly, Herbert slipped his hand into Dan’s own. Not to pull him out of whatever disaster he’d just caused, or away from the collapse of their lives, but toward the future. Toward something new. Something real and warm and substantiated. This, too, had been work.
It had taken years to get up to this point, after all. It had taken everything Dan had just to keep Herbert interested. Like a cat bringing home dead things, he’d done this - he’d never skipped a day of exercise, even when running a fever, just so he could be there to lift the stones off of Herbert when their world caved in. He had learned to forge remarkable identification cards, taught himself German and a smattering of Italian. French would be next. Determination, willpower, and hunger -
“These are the things that drive me,” he continued, the thoughts spilling out; freeform, unbidden. “You take determination to be around, not because you’re difficult, but because the greatest discoveries always take time and dedication. You taught me that,” Dan said, squeezing Herbert’s hand. “Willpower to face the grimmest challenges so you don’t have to be alone. Because I know you can work alone, but you let me into your life years ago. And I want to become - a part of your work.”
Dan swallowed, realizing the depth of what all of it meant, right here, right now. “And I am hungry for the future. I am starving for our lifetimes together.” Herbert was gazing at him, wide-eyed and a little agape, clutching his hand in one hand and his medical bag in the other. Brown eyes darted across the proud scientist; now looking positively boyish in his suit, far more taken aback than Dan had ever seen him before.
“So let’s - let’s do this thing, alright?”
For a moment, there was ringing silence. The Justice of the Peace coughed politely, shuffling his papers, and Dan realized his fatal error in an instant.
“You know, normally I read the law part of things first,” the man said with a smile down at his podium. Herbert was still staring at Dan. “But we can always do it backwards. We’ve heard from Daniel, Mr. West - now, how about you?”
For a long, lingering moment, Dan feared that Herbert might not say anything. He’d heard Dan spill his metaphorical guts and didn’t look too disappointed that they weren’t the real deal. They were more real, Dan felt, than kidney or entrail otherwise. Dan had said how much he found Herbert so humorous, how he relished the way his mind worked, how he loved the way his nose turned up at the end, and how articulate he was. To name but a few things, down to the scent of his aftershave and the peculiar way in which Herbert managed to walk without making a sound unless he wanted to.
But as Herbert looked at him, very slowly and deliberately, the smaller man set down his bag at last between them. He took both of Dan’s hands in his own, cradled them - so soft, so warm - and waited.
When he must’ve felt it was appropriate, Herbert simply said: “I accept all of you, Danny.” His eyes searched Dan’s face as the taller man exhaled, the world blurring into soft watercolors. “For lifetimes.” He glanced at their officiant, brows lifting expectantly, and said nothing more.
“Huh,” said the Justice, seemingly bemused. “Well, alright then. Anything else I should know before we begin again?” Herbert looked back at Dan then down at the bag - and, letting go of only one of Dan’s hands [much to his surprise], Dan watched as Herbert flipped the bag open and withdrew a smaller parcel from within.
With a flip of his hand, Herbert shook back the cloth - revealing a small goblet comprised of delicate glass. Dan gripped Herbert all the more, and, pulling him close, pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.
As usual, what he did wasn’t so much said with words. Herbert was a man of action, and nothing else would suffice save what he had to show. The work, after all, was what mattered.
And Herbert had done the work on Dan. Rather successfully, Dan had to admit.
So for that early day in late May, everything was perfect. For a moment, Dan remembered what it was to live freely and fully - to love the good, the bad, the ugly, and whatever else went into vows.
He’d loved Herbert for years. Love just happened to look different to both of them.
But as usual, they found a way to meet in the middle - by breaking glass, holding hands, and finding new ways to live and create life.
Even if it meant death to old ideals, Dan was happy to kill his doubts and keep going.
After all, he and Herbert had lifetimes to figure out the rest.