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Newt was a very tactile person, he had grown up in a family that had no shortage of hugs or pats on the back. There was always a hand to hold or drag to show the latest thing he had tinkered with and ‘improved’. His uncle Gunther would ruffle his hair when Newt beamed at him and showed him the modified speakers he had build out of various junk he’d found around the house.
When he had started at MIT things had changed. Not much but enough. Newt’s parents had moved to Boston with Newt, but Gunther stayed in Berlin. He didn’t get along great with his classmates, most were annoyed that someone as young as him was studying with them, and doing a lot better. He had acquaintances, people who knew his name, and would slap him on the back occasionally, but as a general rule people stayed away. Which was, Newton tried to convince himself, good, since it gave him more time to focus on his experiments, on whatever caught his eye. Sometimes, however, he couldn’t help but feel the loneliness creep in.
When his father died he threw himself into his education while his mother retreated. Their conversations were stilted and lacked the warmth they once had. They had fixed that, later, after the Kaiju hit San Francisco and Newt knew that he would be studying the huge creatures, but the devastation caused by Trespasser served to remind Newt of what truly mattered and he and Sylvia had talked and cried and hugged and she had told him that he should pursue his dreams, but to “Make sure to call weekly!”. Newt had smiled, and he did call, every Sunday at noon, no matter the time differences, baring of course when there was no reception to be had, or Kaiju attacks in progress.
Thinking back, his arm wrapped around Hermann’s shoulders, the last time he had any physical contact beyond a handshake was when he had been on leave two years ago and had visited his mother and uncle Gunther.
The first hug came as a surprise. He had spent years respecting Hermann’s want for personal space and he really hadn’t meant to repeat the intrusion and then Hermann shuffled over and gave him that small smile with crinkly eyes and Newt saw, more than felt, how his arm wrapped around Hermann in some sort of not quite a hug, hug. It was nice, pleasant, and without thinking about it he leaned in and felt the warmth seeping back into his bones.
As the world went on around them, Herc Hansen barking orders and the Russian crew breaking out the booze, Newt and Hermann remained together. Newt’s arm around Hermann’s shoulders or arm waist and Hermann leaning in and staying close. They took turns explaining what they’d done to the interested parties, and shared a moment of silence with Raleigh and Mako when they arrived after being released from the medical bay, before the two rangers were shuffled into the crowd.
When Newt was spending more time yawning and blinking to keep himself awake than talking, Hermann tugged him away from the mess hall. By the time they reached their room, they were holding hands. After getting ready for bed Newt shifted in front of the bunk bed, biting his lip, unsure if he should climb up, before Hermann patted his mattress.
Newt got in and fell asleep with Hermann wrapped around him, warm, happy and content.