He shakes his head. Hermann isn't failing, he isn't weak, he is so very strong and Newt still doesn't know what to say because I love you is not an answer or any kind of solution and yet he loves Hermann too much to let him go on thinking those things about himself so he holds him tighter and cradles his head against Newt's and cries. Fuck the Russians. Fuck the US, too. Everyone that dragged them into this, that has decided they are weapons and pawns can be damned to a Hell Newt doesn't even believe in.
He and Hermann could be stranded here, they could be stuck or could escape and be pulled back and Hermann is going to blame himself and the Russians will do god-knows-what to them and it will be all over and they had been so happy...and all he wants...
Smoothing down the cowlick with loving care, he presses a kiss to Hermann's forehead and then exhales slowly, heavily, with a sniffle. Newt hasn't felt this tired since Operation Pitfall ended.
He find Hermann's left hand and runs his thumb under the wristband of the watch then, over the pulse in his wrist. It's steady, if a bit rushed. He brings his thumb up the heel of Hermann's palm, across the veiny expanse of it--a long life-line, if he remembers an old roommate's gag-gift correctly--turns over his hand, tracing the ridges of one long meta carpus to his bony knuckles and finally, to the back of his ring finger. His empty pale ring finger.
The familiar phrase out of his mouth next is all he has left of his poorly constructed arsenal of comfort words and inspired phrases: "Shut up, Hermann." His voice strains with emotion, affection, pain and sadness, and he starts to cry again, all but pulling Hermann into his lap. This is the man he wants to spend a lifetime with; they're giving up, he's going to hold Hermann until he...can't.
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Date: 2016-02-22 05:36 am (UTC)He and Hermann could be stranded here, they could be stuck or could escape and be pulled back and Hermann is going to blame himself and the Russians will do god-knows-what to them and it will be all over and they had been so happy...and all he wants...
Smoothing down the cowlick with loving care, he presses a kiss to Hermann's forehead and then exhales slowly, heavily, with a sniffle. Newt hasn't felt this tired since Operation Pitfall ended.
He find Hermann's left hand and runs his thumb under the wristband of the watch then, over the pulse in his wrist. It's steady, if a bit rushed. He brings his thumb up the heel of Hermann's palm, across the veiny expanse of it--a long life-line, if he remembers an old roommate's gag-gift correctly--turns over his hand, tracing the ridges of one long meta carpus to his bony knuckles and finally, to the back of his ring finger. His empty pale ring finger.
The familiar phrase out of his mouth next is all he has left of his poorly constructed arsenal of comfort words and inspired phrases: "Shut up, Hermann." His voice strains with emotion, affection, pain and sadness, and he starts to cry again, all but pulling Hermann into his lap. This is the man he wants to spend a lifetime with; they're giving up, he's going to hold Hermann until he...can't.