#gottbleed

Hermann slowly shut his eyes. “Newton, I assure you, the attraction is quite scary enough without your... additions.”

He tried to return to his book, but Newt was more than a little distracting, making pitiful whining noises and peering through the peephole installed in their closet. They were stationed at the very end of the haunted hospital, charged with flipping a recording of eerie voices and setting off a series of pulleys. That would cause a group of ‘ghost patients’ to soar through the air, all of which was supposedly horrifying enough to scare the participants through the back door and out into freedom.

Newt didn’t think so.

“We gotta add something, dude,” he grumbled. “This haunting sucks.”

“We’re not here to judge its merits.” Hermann slowly turned a page, even though it was really too dark for him to read. “I assume that you, like me, are merely here for some extra cash?”

“Well yeah.”

“Humanities debts?” He asked, peering upwards. There was only the slightest hint of scorn in his voice.

Newt grinned though. “Bio PhD, actually. You’re the one with the book.”

“Maths,” Hermann drawled. “Though I am also working on my doctorate. At least now we know where us grads go to pay off our loans...” he snorted at his own words.

“Grads...” Newt said slowly.

“Yes? What about us?”

Newt turned and though it was dark - though Hermann had only known the fool a few nights - he’d begun to recognized that look. Something like fear made its way down his spine.

“What, Newton?”

“Most of the guys out here,” Newt jerked his thumb at the peephole. “They’re undergrads.”

“Yes. So?”

“So we’re adults.”

“And?” Hermann was beginning to lose patience. He slammed his book shut, then immediately wished he had something to hide behind as Newt turned a fearsome grin his way.

“Sooooo, what do kiddies like that fear more than anything else? Huh? Huh? The idea of two adults getting it on, that’s what!”

Hermann gapped at the man thrusting his hips obscenely.

“You don’t mean you want to--?”

“Do something other than sit in this cramped space all night? Hell yeah I do. C’mon, Herms!”

Thus that was - oddly enough - how one Hermann Gottlieb ended up making out in a supposedly haunted hospital, exhibiting more of an exhibitionist streak than he’d have ever assumed he had. It was how he tumbled off a bed with a partner for the first time (“It’s too damn dark in here!”), managed to cut himself on the rusty headboard (“Want me to kiss it better?” “Gods no! I probably need a tetanus shot, for the love of-”), and got to smack his first partner for daring to cop a feel (“We agreed kissing only!” “Okay, okay, shit, now I’m bleeding!”). The whole debacle lasted a week, leaving plenty of time for practice...

That was also the year ticket prices for the University’s haunting attraction increased tenfold.

Beneficial he supposed. Every penny counts.

Though in truth, Hermann walked away from that experience with far more than a check in his pocket.

“Move along, sir,” Hermann said. He made a shooing motion like the guy was a troublesome cat. “If you need a ride I can call a cab for you. If not, I believe there was a party two blocks that way... unless you’ve already come from there,” he muttered.

“Party!” The guy cheered. He raised his can and Hermann was horrified to see him stumbling across the street towards him.

“Sir--”

“Yoo shouwd come to the pwarty,” he slurred. “You’re like... suuuuuper hot in that.”

Hermann pursed his lips. At the same time though, he felt a light blush spreading across his cheeks. The man was actually quite handsome upon closer inspection. He wore a tie tossed over one shoulder (was he normally an upstanding member of society? Astounding) and a pair of cat ears that Hermann suddenly wanted to run his fingers over. He made fists against such a ridiculous desire.

“So hot,” the guy emphasized. He sloshed some of his drink.

Hermann scowled. “Sir. There are children on these streets tonight. Please--”

“Like, how’d you like... get that costume? It’s SVU cop hot, man. Your...” The man trailed off, waving his hands to indicate an hourglass figure.

Hermann was reasonably sure he’d never had what could be considered curves in his life. He wondered if the man was seeing double.

“How much have you had to drink tonight, sir?” With a sigh Hermann picked up his cane and grabbed his flashlight off his belt, trying to peer into the man’s eyes.

“Don’t... don’t be like that...” He winced away from the glare. “Gotta tell me where you got your threads first...”

“I’m afraid I didn’t get my ‘threads’ anywhere other than my graduation ceremony.” Hermann pinched his nose at the hazy look he got. “I’m an actual cop, sir.”

The man’s mouth unhinged. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No waaaaay.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You’re way too hot to be a cop!”

For all the annoyance, Hermann let a small smile slip. It wasn’t often that the drunks around here were so tame, particularly on Halloween. Normally they’d be causing mass mayhem of all sorts, or at least trying to start a fight. Most thought they could take him because of the cane and, admittedly, Hermann only had so much sprinting power in him. His partner, Officer Hansen, had taken the night off to take his son trick or treating and Hermann was just grateful that this guy wasn’t making him try to chase him down. It probably wouldn’t have ended well.

Besides, when was the last time anyone had claimed Hermann was “too hot” for anything? He wasn’t exactly Cop Calendar material. Sure, the man was drunk beyond belief and was likely hallucinating some female model in nothing but a badge... but Hermann could pretend.

Especially with this one. The drunks weren’t normally this cute either.

“Go home, sir,” Hermann said. He dared to lay a hand on the guy’s shoulder, noting how warm it was. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink tonight. Do you know where your house is?”

“No!” He yelped. Then the guy shook his head, rocking dangerously. “I... I know where my house is. But I’m not leaving. You’re hot!” He said it like that was all the logic needed.

“Sir--”

The man grabbed hold of Hermann’s arm in turn, shaking him passionately. “Officer. Officer. You gotta arrest me. I... I need you to arrest me.”

Hermann shook his head. Even if he’d wanted to bend the rules a bit and tow this guy in - listening to him during the ride back might be amusing - there just wasn’t room. Their small jail was currently reserved for miscreants from tonight’s activities, those who committed actual assault and property damage. This guy, though wasted, was about as harmful as a complimentary teddy bear. Hermann couldn’t arrest him.

Even if a part of him kind of wanted to.

“--handcuffs,” the guy was saying, a little too excitedly. “I’ve been so bad. A bad, bad boy. You should... you should reeeeeally arrest me.”

“And that’s quite enough.” Hermann disentangled himself from the grabby hands. “Sir. Sir! I have no reason to arrest you. Please return to your home.”

The man blinked. “Reason? Like... like wha?”

Hermann snorted. “You? At this point you’d have to physically assault me... sir?”  

Hermann heard the crack of his nose before he felt it. His body torqued with the force of the guy’s fist, his aim and strength astounding considering his alcohol level. Hermann hit the pavement hard, his cane flying, his palms scraping across pebbles as he tried to stop his momentum. He peered in disbelief at the blood beading up all over his hands. Hermann coughed and choked as far more blood started pouring from his nose.

“You bastard!” he shrieked, voice thick.

The man was hopping behind him. “Am I arrested now?”

“Yes you’re fucking arrested!”

“Yeeeeah! Arrested by the hot cop!”

The man bounded for the police cruiser, Hermann furiously stumbling after him.

***

Newt awoke seven hours later to the clinking of bars and one hell of a headache.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. He was lying in a jail cell, his mouth tasting like a whole family of possums had up and died there. Newt tenderly reached into his hair and pulled the cat ears off. The soft fur was crushing his skull.

“Oh my god,” he moaned again.

“Finally awake?”

Newt peered blearily through the bars. There was a cop leaning there, his uniform stained all down the front and two tissues stuffed up his nostrils. He looked about as pleased as Newt felt.

“Good morning, Mr...” the cop checked what Newt recognized was his own wallet. “Geiszler. Dr. Geiszler. How fascinating. I’m Officer Gottlieb. You broke my nose last night.”

Newt’s eyes bugged. “Oh... shit.”

“Yes,” Hermann drawled.

“Am... am I in a lot of trouble?”

“A lifetime’s worth I’d say.”

To Newt’s shock, Hermann pulled out a key and opened the door.

“Get up, Geiszler. You’ve already been sentenced: you’re buying me breakfast and taking me on a date Friday night. I highly recommend that you carry this punishment out to the best of your ability. Otherwise I can’t guarantee that you won’t be punished further.”

Newt waited all of a nanosecond. 

“He’d have to catch me first.” Newt peered curiously at the cane Hermann had gotten just two weeks before. It lay between them on the bed, acting as a divider for their candy stashes. “I could give you a piggyback ride if we need to run away.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” Hermann pressed a hand hard against his stomach.

Newt scooped up a random collection of sweets and dropped them into Hermann’s pile. He noted that two lollipops were included which normally he’d fight to the death for, but this time it was okay. Hermann deserved them.

“Here. Eat more before he gets back. He’s just gonna take it all away, right?”

Hermann forcibly shook his head. “Yes, but... I think I’ve eaten enough.”

“Pff. Never.”

“Really, Newt...”

Hermann looked up, his pallor having changed suddenly from green to snow-white. The night had already been tiring for him, between traipsing from house to house and the general excitement of the season. When they’d gotten back to Hermann’s house Newt had helped him undo his Bill Nye bowtie, Hermann’s hands just a little too shaky. It was nice. Sorta. Hermann didn’t let anyone else help him with stuff like that. Not even the teachers at school. They’d curled next to each other after that and divvied up the loot. Newt had unwrapped all the candies too, passing them one by one to Hermann, encouraging him to eat before Mr. Gottlieb got back and yelled about ‘foolishness’ again. He was always yelling about something. Better to eat all the treats before any were confiscated. That’s what Halloween was all about, right?

Now Newt wondered.

“You okay?” He asked. Newt reached forward to feel Hermann’s forehead (he was going to do cool bio things when he grew up, he totally knew how to take temperatures) but Hermann pulled away with a groan. “Whoa. Okay. You can hide the rest of yours at my place if you want.”

Hermann managed a wane smile. “You’d do that?” he whispered.

“Yeah. ‘Course. I’d do anything for--shit!”

Without warning Hermann vomited all over Newt’s lap. One moment he was still pale and rubbing his stomach, the next he was hunched over, gripping the sheets, spewing a putrid mess all over his friend’s jeans. Newt froze and stared at it a moment, noting with sick fascination that there were thin threads of dark red blood interspersed with the yellow chunkiness. It was probably just from Hermann’s nosebleed earlier, but the sight still made Newt grip Hermann’s hair in fear. He’d buried his head in misery against the clean side of Newt’s thigh, trembling.

“--anything for you,” Newt finished with a squeak. “Even letting you vomit on me. Wow. Okay. This is fine. Um... how does your dad feel about vomit on the sheets?”

Hermann’s only response was a pained groan. He curled into a little ball and pressed himself against the hand in his hair.

“This is fine,” Newt repeated. “Yeah! This is super simple. I’m gonna shower and... and borrow some pants. You’re gonna rest. We’ll hide the sheets in the washer and when you’re feeling up to it we’ll sneak back to my place. A sleepover. We’ll have my uncle call Mr. Gottlieb. He’ll do it. And... we can eat the rest of the candy another day. Okay?”

“... Okay.” It was said very quietly against Newt’s skin.

“Hermann?”

“Mm?”

“It really is okay.”

Hermann closed his eyes, trying to block out the smell, the taste in his mouth, how his whole body felt like it was shaking now... he concentrated instead on Newt’s voice and the fingers against his scalp. On where they were going.

Newt circled Hermann, settling over his shoulder where he found another--another--math text. One he’d already read!

“Dude, this is ridiculous.” Newt passed his head through Hermann’s, hoping to at least cause a shiver. “What’s gotten into you? I’m starting to suspect a conspiracy--”

--Hermann stood at the kitchen counter, preparing his morning coffee, wrapped in a robe, hair still wet, toes cold on the tile, thinking about getting the newspaper, no, too cold out, nothing important, the frost was awful this year, nearly November, nearly, Halloween, Newton, probably watching, bastard, Hermann tightened his robe, peered around curiously, insufferable ghost, no privacy whatsoever, none, awful, what an annoyance, Hermann could give as well as he got, let the foolish man suffer, dead man, just for a while, a smirk, a huff, there was plenty to read--

Newt didn’t breathe anymore, but he still automatically gasped when the vision ended. Five years in and he still wasn’t used to that--falling unexpectedly into Hermann’s head. His memories and emotions. Must be a ghost thing because he sure hadn’t done that while he was alive.

“Dude,” he said, appalled. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Newt flew to get right up in his face. “You’re deliberately being a boring ass!”

Hermann’s eyes met his. “Indeed.”

Newt yelped, tumbling backwards and floating towards the ceiling. He drifted halfway through to the second floor before he stopped his momentum.

“You... you can see me!”

“Mm hmm,” Hermann agreed. He returned to his book. “Did you not note the date? Today is Halloween.”

Newt scowled. “You should warn a ghost when you can hear ‘em and see ‘em again, Herms. Also you’re a dick. Is this your idea of fun now? Huh? Boring me to death?”

“Yes,” he drawled. “Your after-death? Perhaps. Or maybe I thought that if I simply slowed things down around here you’d find someone else to haunt.”

“No way, dude. You’re stuck with me. Especially now.”

Newt fidgeted three inches above the carpet. He wasn’t about to admit that he could go off and haunt someone else if he wanted. But he didn’t. Want to, that is. Why he cared for this grumpy grump, Newt couldn’t say, but he’d gotten pretty good at accepting the inevitable. Death kinda did that to you.

“Stuck with me,” he emphasized, pointing a spectral finger.

“Pity that.”

“Also--I’ve been waiting a goddamn year to tell you this--your research is dry, man. Spice it up a bit! And move the couch back. It looks stupid over here. And why didn’t you keep that stray?? Oh my god, I named her Mecha and you just took her away! Ryan--kid next door?--he’s the one whose been leaving mice in the mailbox FYI. Also we’re going trick or treating this year. And there’s a hole in the back of your pajamas I don’t think you’ve noticed yet, and--”

“I’m sorry,” Hermann said. He slowly looked up. “What was that last one?”

Newt grinned innocently. “You’ve got a hole in your PJs?”

“No. The other one.”

“Oh yeah. I’m taking you trick or treating. No backing out! Non negotiable! It’s set and done, dude.”

“Newton--”

“No worries.” Newt splayed his arms and did a flip in midair. “I’ve got a totally foolproof plan.”

***

“A sheet?” Hermann said. He stared at his bed before wearily leaning against the headboard: the picture of defeat.

“Great, right?”

“Idiotic.”

“Aw c’mon.”

“You’re incorporeal!”

“Only most of the time.”

That got Hermann’s attention. He straightened, furrowed his brow, gnawed a bit at his lower lip… it was times like this that Newt wished he could control the whole ‘diving into your head’ thing. He wanted to know what Hermann was thinking.

Always.

“Explain,” he said tersely. Hermann stamped his cane in impatience.

“Took me a while to figure out,” Newt said, circling the bed. “Remember the toaster way back? And the bookshelf? Yeah, those were accidents. Then I’m like, ‘Hey! It’s just like the movies! I can control shit in the living world.’ Except that instead of getting better at it a la Ghost, I just got sorta drained. I can interact with whatever I want, but I guess I’m kinda like a battery. Only so much juice over so much time, see? So I’ve been saving up. Plenty stored, enough to control a sheet for a couple of hours easy peasy. Can’t miss the chance to dress up, man. Otherwise you know I would have been chucking things at your head the last two weeks…”

“So you intend to be a ghost?” The slightest smile tugged at Hermann’s lips.

“Yeah. Long sheet so no one knows I’m actually floating.”

“Inspired.”

“Where are your scissors? Gotta cut me some eye holes.”

“Eye—? Don’t you dare!”

***

Newt did dare and two hours later they were out on the street, Newt in his sheet and Hermann in a hastily constructed fourth Doctor costume.

“This is absurd,” he muttered. Hermann edged closer to his companion. “For the love of decency, Newton. I’m thirty-two years old. You’re ancient.”

“Dude. I died in 2014. I’m a year younger than you.”

Hermann blinked. “Really? Ah, I… I suppose I’d always assumed you’d haunted that house long before I moved in.”

“Nah. Besides, I died in skinny jeans. Not exactly vintage material.” Newt motioned to his ever-present outfit. “Huh. Wonder what happens with the poor sods that die naked.”

“Please don’t.”

“Besides! No one is too old for trick or treating. Right, Ma’am? Trick or treat!”

The woman peered at them curiously from her doorway, two kids peeking out from behind her legs. Her wife gave a snort of laughter at them and waved on her way to the kitchen. 

“Ah. Yes. T-trick or treat?” Hermann asked, blushing. He prayed that the sheet and Newton’s voice made her think that he was younger than he actually was. While alive, that is. Perhaps she thought Hermann was his father.

…oh heaven forbid.

She seemed more amused than anything though. “Happy Halloween,” she said and held out the bowl of candy. Hermann immediately honed in on the Milky Ways and took one without regret.

“Ahem,” Newt muttered.

Closing his eyes in mortification, Hermann reached back and took a Kit-Kat too. He placed it in the second bag he was carrying for Newton.

The woman stared.

“Are you a ghost?” the little girl asked, staring curiously. Newt ducked down to look at her and Hermann subtly put his cane over the sheet so it wouldn’t fly up with the tail end of him.

“Sure am.” Newt made spooky noises until she giggled. 

“How’d you die?”

“Jessica,” he mom admonished. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries. It was a lab accident. Ever heard of nickel hydrazine perchlorate? ‘Course you haven’t. Well a bit of advice, kiddo: don’t make more than 100mgs of the stuff and don’t try to crush it with your mortar and pestle. Explosions are fun, but not when they kill ya.”

“…Oh,” the girl said. She stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“Well that’s…remarkably specific…” The woman started closing the door.

“He takes his costumes seriously,” Hermann muttered and shuffled Newt away as fast as he could.

“It’s true, dude! That shit is dangerous. Warn ‘em young I say.”

“Not that young,” Hermann snapped. With a sigh he lead them to a nearby bench, sitting carefully on the damp wood. He shivered a bit in the cold. “I am sorry, Newton. I... had no idea you’d died that way.”

“No worries. Besides, death has its perks.”

“Like tormenting me?”

“… Yeah. Maybe… Whatever.”

Hermann smiled. “I suppose there are worse ways to go—”

--Hermann sitting on a bench, two bags of candy in his lap, shivering slightly, otherwise warm, Newton beside him, Newton, his one true companion, five years now, insufferable man, looks ridiculous in that sheet, handsome otherwise though, foolish, a ghost, death, dying, might not be so bad, pills in the upstairs cabinet, sharp knife in the kitchen, right across the carotid, so much blood, spilling into the tile, between the crevices, stains, permanent, but him and Newton, forever—

Newt heaved, as much as he remembered how. He slapped a hand at Hermann’s chest and this time he must have felt it because he tried throwing an arm over his shoulders, his hands passing right through Newt of course. But the intent was there and Newt latched onto it, ripping his sheet so he could stare Hermann down.

“Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “Don’t you fucking dare! Just—just don’t! Okay? Okay?”

“You…?” Hermann sucked in a breath as he realized. “You can see…? They’re just thoughts, Newton. Not actions.”

“Well don’t let them become actions. Ever. Oh fuck, Hermann. I’ll… I’ll still be here. For when it happens. When it... when it’s natural...”

Hermann swallowed. “Yes?” he asked, voice small.

“Yeah.”

“Well then…”

“Oh shit,” Newt said suddenly. He floated a little closer as he felt the change. “I think that’s it, dude. Wow, that’s some messed up timing.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. Sucks. Didn’t feel as long as usual.”

Hermann let out a laugh that sounded slightly wild. “It was. I could see you most of today.” He shook as he swallowed again. “Long before you said you loved me.”

“… oh.”

“Yes.”

Newt noted that Hermann’s eyes were beginning to look through him rather than at him. He looked down and saw the sheet sinking onto the bench.

He had just enough time left.

Newt floated forward and pressed a kiss to Hermann’s forehead. They both closed their eyes, only one of them able to breathe out in satisfaction.

“Eat that candy for me,” Newt murmured.

“Very well.” 

“And you promise not to...?”

“I promise.” 

“Good.” 

 “... I’ll see you in a year.”

“I’ll see you in just a sec.”

Then silence. Hermann had only an empty sheet curled against his chest. Newton was gone.