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At times like this, being friends with Tendo seemed like one of the worst ideas Hermann has ever had. Oh sure, talking with him about computers and coding is enjoyable. And yes, he puts up with Hermann’s prickly behavior and quick temper and understands his dry, sarcastic sense of humor in a way it is a rare for anyone to do. And, all right, he is always loyal and helpful and honestly, Hermann had no idea why Tendo wants to be friends with him.
But, god, is being dragged to the bar and asked how he feels about every single guy in the damn place worth it? He’d rather be home, where he could be alone in the quiet, instead of here, inhaling the smell of smoke (even though it is definitely illegal to smoke in bars in this state) and stale beer and having to listen to Tendo shout in his ear, “What about him, he’s really hot!”
Him is tall and blond and broad shouldered and wearing a navy sweater. Like hell. Not Hermann's type and out of his league anyway. Hermann snorts and doesn’t bother to respond.
Well, he doesn’t respond to the comment, but he does groan, for at least the fourth time that evening - he’s going for five, to make it nice and round - “Why did you make me come here again?”
Tendo simultaneously rolls his eyes, tips his head back to stare despairingly at the ceiling, heaves a sigh, and slumps his shoulders, as if his frustration at Hermann is too vast to be contained by even one or two of these gestures. “Because I’m pretty sure you haven’t left your apartment for anything other than work or school or grocery shopping in, like, a month, and I’m positive you haven’t gotten laid in about a year and a half, and even for you that is pushing it.”
It’s been longer than that. But no need for Tendo to know that.
“It’s none of your business how long it’s been,” Hermann is starting to say irritably, and intending to add something on about how he certainly isn’t going to sleep with some stranger he meets at a bar, that may be fine for Tendo but not for him, thank you very much- When he sees That Guy. The Cute Guy. The tiny one, with the hair and the freckles and the tattoos (not that Hermann likes tattoos or would like to closely examine these tattoos and maybe touch them, not at all), that keeps showing up in the Physics department, even though, so far as Hermann can tell (from things he has coincidentally overheard), he belongs to the Biology apartment.
He’s here, on the other side of the bar, moving toward them. Hermann ducks his head instinctively when he glances up toward them, a mumbled “crap,” escaping his mouth.
“What, what?” Tendo says immediately.
“Nothing,” Hermann insists, carefully peering up through his eyelashes to see where the guy (the Cute Guy) has gone. He’s paused at a table partway across the room, chatting to the people there. It is, in fact, the table with the blond guy, and also a black-haired girl with blue hair streaks, and a scowling ginger boy. All three could be models, they are so good-looking (but Hermann thinks that The Guy is the best-looking of all.) Good god, do good-looking people travel in packs?
“What are you looking at?” Tendo demands, trying to follow his line of sight.
“It’s nothing!” Hermann says again, too late. Tendo has seen him. Oh no.
“Oh my god, is that him? Is that Tattoo Guy? Aw, he’s precious, he’s so tiny! Damn, he’s probably shorter than me!”
“He is not precious-” Hermann protests.
“He’s precious. Look at his little legs. Aw, Herms- Have you talked to him since, uh, that incident? D’you know his name yet?”
He has spoken to “Tattoo Guy” precisely once, a short conversation started when they rode the elevator together one time and Tattoo Guy asked him for directions to a certain professor’s office. It didn’t go well. Hermann still simply can’t comprehend how it spun out of control that badly. The conversation is all a blur of horrible awkwardness and desperately thinking shut up, for fuck’s sake, just SHUT UP, but he seems to recall calling biology a “soft science” and making a snide remark about MIT, which, of course, turned out to be where tattoo guy got his undergraduate degree. Also, he's fairly certain he called him a "bloody idiot" at some point.
He just shouldn’t be allowed to talk about anything other than math or physics. He’s bad enough around a run-of-the-mill stranger - the first few times he talked to Tendo, back when he’d still been dating Hermann’s asshole roommate last year, he’d glared at the other man through the first several conversations, and that had been with him rather liking Tendo - but when it’s someone that he finds attractive, he always ends up saying something either stupid or awful. Or both, as in the case of Tattoo Guy.
Then he had made the foolish mistake of telling Tendo about the conversation in the elevator. Tendo has teased him ever since. Now here they are, Tendo next to him and Tattoo Guy halfway across the room. Disaster is simply guaranteed. Why, oh why had he ever thought it was a good idea to be friends with Tendo Choi?
In answer to Tendo’s question, he grinds out, “No.”
Tendo nudges him, eyes lit up enthusiastically. “You should go talk to him now! It’s perfect, you’re supposed to talk to people in bars, go introduce yourself to him!”
“I am absolutely not going to do that,” Hermann snaps, wrapping his hand more firmly around his sweating, only half-empty glass of beer as if to lock himself down to this place.
“C’mon, he’s right there! Go introduce yourself, ask his name!”
Hermann scowls at the stained table.
“You like him, right? So chat him up!”
It’s so bloody easy for him to say, Tendo just swans up to anyone he likes and smirks and adjusts his daft bowtie and says his name, and that’s that, never mind that he’s a short man with a pompadour and a bowtie, he wins anyone over that easily. It’s easy to say, “Just chat him up!” when one is capable of that, but doing it when you are Hermann, awkward, anxious, rude, prickly, Hermann, that’s something else entirely. Besides-
“I don’t like him, I hardly know him!”
Tendo waves that away. “I’m not talking about feelings or love or whatever. You think he’s cute! That’s what I mean! Right?”
“I do not,” Hermann stoutly denies, even though he is again watching Tattoo Guy over the rim of his mug. He is laughing at something the Asian girl said, face glowing with an easy grin, whole body bouncing with the movement, and…Hermann hates this feeling. All fluttery in his chest, palms prickling, warmth breaking out over his skin and most particularly his face. It’s rare for him, being attracted to someone, finding someone good looking in more than an aesthetic way. The other three at the table are beautiful, but they don't make Hermann feel this way. Hardly anyone does. It’s rare, and he wishes it would simply never happen at all.
“You do-”
“Look, what the hell am I supposed to say anyway?” he interrupts. “Hello, I’m that bloke that was terribly rude to you in the elevator and insulted your chosen field of study, but let's be honest, biology is a bit rubbish anyway, but would you like to get a drink with me, oh, and while I’m at it, what’s your name?”
“You get like, ninety five percent more British when you’re being sarcastic, did you know that? And more German when you’re pissed. What’s up with that?”
“I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t even know if he’s interested in men! And I’m not interested in him!”
Tendo leans across the table at him, earnestly adjusting his bowtie. Hermann narrows his eyes. He always does that before giving Hermann a rousing but usually extremely unhelpful speech about how he can go get ‘em, tiger. “Really, Hermann, it’s not that hard, I swear. Just introduce yourself. Maybe toss in a fun fact.”
“Like what?” he growls.
Tendo considers. “Like…’Hi, I’m Hermann Gottlieb, I’m gay and I love space.’”
He barely restrains himself from shouting. “Like hell am I going to say that!”
Tendo is grinning now. “Just try it, I swear it’ll work. ‘I’m gay and I love space.’ It’s perfect. It encapsulates your personality so well.”
“It does not!” he hisses. Although. He supposes it might be a little bit accurate. But definitely a terrible introduction.
“It does, it totally does. C’mon, just say it. Just once.”
“No!”
“Just for me, say it for me,” Tendo begs, and digs his phone out of his pocket.
“So you can record it and whip it out at the most inconvenient times in the future?” he snarls.
“You know me so well,” he murmurs, and holds the phone up to his face, camera pointing to Hermann. “Just say it. ‘I’m Hermann Gottlieb, I’m gay and I love space.’ You know you want to.”
“I will never say that,” Hermann snaps, turning his face away from Tendo in case he’s planning to take a picture of Hermann’s angry face. Tendo does that. He says he’s making a collection and is going to put it in a gallery and call it, “Hermann Gottlieb’s Epic Bitch Face,” or maybe, “The Many Bitch Faces of Hermann Gottlieb.”
He’s an awful friend.
Hermann is now looking in that direction anyway, so he steals another glance at the table that Tattoo Guy had paused at, hoping, perhaps, to catch him smiling again. But he isn’t there anymore. Hermann sits up straighter, eyes scanning across the room for him as Tendo begs, “Please say it, just once-” Ah. There he is, unexpectedly closer, walking toward Hermann and Tendo’s table, so that just as Hermann sees him in the crowd, he looks at Hermann, and their eyes meet.
It’s instantly obvious that he recognizes Hermann. He pauses, mouth going into an ‘o,’ as Hermann internally curses and can’t look down. Then he starts walking again, quicker, right toward them, as Hermann thinks, shit, and please don’t, and Christ don’t make an ass of yourself, and Tendo, oblivious, says that stupid phrase again.
Tattoo Guy stops right before Hermann, an odd half-smile on his face. Tendo, blissfully, stops talking. Tattoo Guy, less fortunately, starts talking. He has a unique voice, scratchy and a little high, but Hermann thinks it suits him. “Hey. You’re, uh, the guy from the elevator, right?”
Hermann winces and can feel himself flush. “Um. Yes. That’s me.”
Tendo hisses, “Say it,” and taps his phone screen. Hermann tries to stomp on his foot under the table.
Tattoo Guy casts a curious look at Tendo and opens his mouth again, but before he can speak, Tendo says brightly, “I’m Tendo and I have a girlfriend.”
He is the worst friend in the history of awful terrible friends. Brutus was a better friend to Caesar than Tendo. At least he had the decency to end Caesar’s misery (by stabbing him, whatever), whereas Tendo is entirely willing to let him stew. If Hermann’s cheeks were heating up before, now they are burning. His palms are actually sweating. He tries to step on Tendo’s foot again and can hear him jerk his foot away, so that instead of hitting him Hermann jars the single leg holding up the small, round-topped table, so that it sways alarmingly and the glasses on it rattle against the wood. Beer slops out of Tendo's full (third) beer. Tendo makes a choked sound of laughter. This is quickly shaping up to be worse than the elevator.
Tattoo Guy scrunches his eyebrows, puzzled, and says, “Cool? I guess?,” and turns his focus back to Hermann. He can’t decide if that’s good or bad. On the one hand, good, don’t look at Tendo, he’s a disaster waiting to happen, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want Tattoo Guy looking him, because that makes all of his self-consciousness a thousand times worse. Did he brush his hair? Did he brush his teeth? Why the hell is he wearing this ugly shirt? Why does a good-looking guy looking at him instantly turn his brain off, so that the only thoughts in his head are how stupid he certainly looks and how nice Tattoo Guy’s gray blue eyes are and how much he wants to kill Tendo and 'I’m gay and I like space', echoing over and over like some hideous broken record.
“I don’t think we were introduced last time,” Tattoo guy says. “I’m Newt.”
It’s like a nightmare. Those nightmares where you know what's going to happen but can't stop it, where you are trying to run but move in slow motion. The instant that Tattoo Guy - Newt - introduces himself and then smiles expectantly, Hermann knows what he is going to say. He absolutely knows the words that are going to come out of his mouth. They are the only words in his head, other than oh god don’t say that! and he opens his mouth and knows he is going to say that and he begs himself not to say it, and he says:
“I’m Hermann, I’m gay and I love space.”
Tendo makes a choked sound.
Newt stares at him blankly.
Hermann turns utterly scarlet.
“This is the greatest thing to have ever happened to me,” Tendo whispers, and starts laughing uncontrollably.
Hermann's ears are ringing. He said it. He honestly said it. This is. The worst thing. Ever. In his entire life. He’s been in a horrible car accident and hasn’t spoken to his father in a year and this is still the worst thing to have ever happened to him in his whole entire life. “I, I mean-” he stammers helplessly.
Oh god, if only he was friends with Brutus, he would genuinely like to be stabbed right now. Repeatedly. That sounds about right. That sounds better than this.
A bemused smile spreads across Newt’s face. In any moment, he will start laughing, and then this moment will be complete, and perhaps the sheer humiliation will bring a merciful death to Hermann. Maybe from overheating, based on how hot his face has gotten. Or a heart attack, his heart is pounding hard enough.
“I’m pansexual and I love giant monsters. So. Good fit,” Newt says. He sits down at the free bar stool. He smiles flirtatiously. His knee nudges Hermann's.
Maybe Tendo isn't the worst friend in the world.