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“Is it gonna bug you if I watch a movie?”
Gottlieb glanced up at Newt, taking in the blanket slung over his shoulder and the stack of DVDs he clutched in one hand. He sighed and marked the page in his book, closing it with a snap.
“I have the feeling you’re going to be watching them no matter what answer I give you,” he said. Newt shrugged flippantly but didn’t deny it. “Very well. What’s on the agenda for this evening?”
“Poor Taste Movie Marathon,” Newt said proudly, handing the DVDs over. Gottlieb sorted through the stack, his look of disapproval growing with each title. “Ahh. Sour-faced seal of approval.”
“You really want to watch The Thing,” Gottlieb said. “And War of the Worlds, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and…”
“Alien,” Newt said excitedly. “Hell yeah I do. Told you, man. Poor Taste Movie Marathon.”
Gottlieb handed the DVDs back wordlessly, watching Newt sort through them again and pick out The Thing. He threw himself onto the couch and wrapped himself up in the blanket, watching the screen avidly.
“You’re going to give yourself nightmares with this tripe,” Gottlieb said. Newt hushed him, waving a dismissive hand.
“Okay, first off? The Thing is a classic. Second off, shut up.”
“I’m merely remarking on the inevitable,” Gottlieb said dryly. “How do you know it’s a classic? You’ve never seen it.”
“It comes Tendo-recommended. He’s got a thing for old movies.”
“Ah, good. Now I have someone specific to blame for this,” Gottlieb said. Newt hushed him again as the screen faded in from black to a quiet opening shot of Earth in serene, unsuspecting orbit. The silence was broken a second later by a flying saucer streaking towards the planet, clearly on a collision course.
“You’re right, this is in poor taste,” Gottlieb muttered. Newt shrugged again.
“Hey. Not the movie’s fault we’re in the middle of an actual alien invasion, okay?”
Newt’s initially cheerful mood slowly began to degrade as the movie went on. He leaned unconsciously against Gottlieb, eyes wide and shoulders hunching. Gottlieb wasn’t even remotely as troubled by the film; he disliked the copious gore but could appreciate the sense of claustrophobic fear translated through stretches of silence and sudden, abrupt shifts in emotions between the actors. Newt’s first shriek was triggered by the infected dog’s horrifying transformation; he grabbed hold of Gottlieb as though for dear life, pointing at the screen.
“BLOB! BLOB ALIEN!”
“Will you stop shouting!”
Newt stared fixedly at the hideous shrieking mass of flesh and teeth on the screen, genuinely disgusted.
“Oh my god, look at it! That’s horrible!”
“You were dissecting something that looked remarkably similar this morning,” Gottlieb retorted. “You can’t actually be scared by this, can you?”
“Of course I’m scared, it’s horrible,” Newt repeated, astonished. Gottlieb pulled loose and stood. “Wait, wait wait! Where’re you going?”
“To turn it off. I told you you’d be giving yourself nightmares.”
“Don’t you DARE!”
Gottlieb snatched his hand away from the DVD player at once, staring at Newt in bafflement. Newt had sounded genuinely affronted at the idea of turning off the source of his suffering; he glared, pointing at the spot Gottlieb had vacated.
“Sit. We’re getting through this.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Gottlieb muttered. He sat down again and holding his hands up. “There. Happy?”
Newt nodded, looking back at the screen and watching as the mutated dog-alien was suddenly doused in fire from a flamethrower, wincing at its squealing screams. Gottlieb soon found Newt leaning against him again, grabbing at his sleeve and jolting at every sudden movement and jarring noise.
“Oh my God,” he said eventually. “Oh my God, the doctor-guy’s infected. He poked at the body with a pencil and then put it in his mouth oh my GOD, why did he DO that?”
“Oh, you mean like the time I had to stop you from drinking coffee you’d dripped kaiju effluence into?”
“Shut up, that only happened once.”
“Five times. It’s happened five times.”
“SHH.”
As the movie’s tension hit a hideous, paranoid apex, Newt wrapped himself up in his blanket and clutched even tighter at Gottlieb’s arm. He stared in open-mouthed horror as the alien attacked one of the few remaining survivors, its hand fusing to the man’s face as though he was being absorbed by a human-shaped amoeba.
“What the fuck,” he whispered, eyes stretched wide. “Oh noooo.”
Gottlieb, who had gotten more invested in the movie than he would have liked to admit, gave Newt a reproving sidelong look. Newt didn’t notice, the blanket drawn up to his chin as he cringed.
“Ooooh nooo.”
“Newton, please.”
There was a series of ear-splitting shrieks and Newt’s resolve finally broke, dragging the blanket over his head and unable to watch. He leaned against Gottlieb again, shuddering.
“What the fuck, NO.”
Gottlieb rolled his eyes, unable to muster any kind of sympathy.
“It’s just a movie, Newton.”
“I know that!”
“And watching it was your idea.”
“I know that too. I know that too, I’m sorry I won’t do it again you were right I admit it-”
Gottlieb turned to him in surprise, pulling the blanket away from Newt’s head and looking under it. Newt had pressed his hands against his eyes, adding a second protective shield against the horrors on the screen.
“I’m sorry, would you mind repeating that?”
“Don’t push your luck, one ‘I told you so’ is all you get per year.”
“Well-spent opportunity, then,” Gottlieb said smugly, dragging the blanket back in place. He watched the rest of the movie quietly, allowing Newt to hang onto his arm. As the credits rolled he tugged on the blanket again.
“You can come out now. The monsters are gone.”
Newt dragged the blanket away from his head, staring at the screen with narrowed eyes. He looked at Gottlieb seriously, pointing to the remaining DVDs.
“Your pick. War of the Worlds Invasion of the Body Snatchers or Alien?”
“You really want to keep going?”
“Yep. This is great.”
Gottlieb studied him for a moment, then gave a quietly amused laugh and slid off the couch. Newt settled more comfortably on the couch, his enthusiasm visibly restored as Gottlieb held up a DVD.
“War of the Worlds it is, then.”