#lvslie

Hermann, though, was free to drink. He didn’t keep alcohol of any sort in their rooms, and rarely had more than one drink and never drank when it was just the two of them. Tonight, though, he’s rather tipsy. It’s not entirely his fault, as they’re at an event and, of all the damn people, Tendo Choi made an appearance. Tendo is a charmer, no doubt, and has a habit of buying Hermann shots. It’s a particular old habit and one that Newt finds very amusing.

Newt likes the way there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks as he waves at him across the room, and he likes even more that he’s shed his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves. Newt had forgone the jacket in the first place, but his waistcoat has come undone in the course of the evening. He doubts he’ll ever fully feel comfortable at these events, PPDC fundraisers meant to do God knows what beyond raise money from wealthy donors who want to turn the PPDC in their favor.

He’s been waylaid by a young man who’s curious about his research (it’s become highly taboo to mention that decade of Newt’s life, but so many people will pry to try to discover information) but his eyes don’t truly leave Hermann where he’s still seated next to Tendo.

“Newton!” Hermann calls across the room and all eyes abruptly turn to Hermann, then over to Newt. “Come here, please.”

That’s probably the sign to collect him and take him home, Newt thinks, blushing. It’s not like him to get embarrassed, but he does hate the attention. Hermann knows this and maybe he will have to have a talk to him about alcohol consumption in the morning, after all. (Their first talk was met with understanding but Newt knows Hermann also felt guilty for not reading the signs, for not knowing how he’d mistreated drink for so long.)

When the many eyes of the room have looked away, Newt moves forward, making his way towards where Hermann sits. Hermann immediately wraps an arm around his waist, leaning his head against him.

“Did you want me here just to touch me?” Newt asks, and drops a kiss to the top of Hermann’s head. He thinks he possibly loves this man more every single time that he sees him.

“I was just talking about the wedding with Tendo,” Hermann says, and he hiccups. “He says he, uh- what was it you said?”

“I said that Alison and I eloped first, got the official romantic stuff out of the way before I worried about the big ceremony. But we kept it a big secret,” Tendo supplies. “I apologize for this, by the way. I didn’t realize he had an even lower tolerance than before.”

Tendo looks a bit sheepish, likely at the fact that he’s returning a drunk fiance to Newt, who is technically a recovering alcoholic. (Okay, this is not a technicality.)

“No, I’m sorry, New’on. I should have never left your side to come sit by this blasted man,” Hermann supplies. “Jus’ wanted to give you some space. But I do think eloping is a good idea. Can we elope tonight?”

Newt squeezes Hermann’s shoulder gently. “We already ran away together, that’s basically the same as eloping. It would ruin the novelty of it.”

Hermann looks up at him for a few moments like he’s processing, retracing the memories that have brought them here. “You’re right. We ran away together and then we were in love.”

“So let’s go forward with the wedding you’ve been meticulously planning for the last half year, hmm?” Newt reaches down to straight out the collar of Hermann’s shirt. He’s an adorable mess and Newt loves him best from this angle, especially because he’s certain he spies a few grey hairs peeking out of Hermann’s scalp.

“Right. Of course. Correct as always, Newton.”

Tendo’s brows shoot up at that statement. “You might want to get him home if he’s saying that you’re correct.”

The smile Newt gives Tendo at that is a bit too lopsided, but he helps Hermann out of his seat, looping his arm around his waist.

“Good night, Tendo. Next time you’re in town, we’ll go get dinner or something,” Newt says.

“Next time I’m in town is for the wedding, but I’ll let you know.”

They walk out together, Newt trying to ignore anyone who looks at them. It’s not that he minds, but he knows Hermann’s going to feel bad about this in the morning and he knows that people will talk. He doesn’t need any more talk about him. About them.

Thankfully they get a cab easily and Hermann’s gone quiet, holding his hand in the backseat.

“I’m sorry about the-” Hermann hiccups. “The tequila.”

“I’m sorry for what the tequila’s done to you too, Hermann. But it’ll be better in the morning.”

“There will be no drinks at the wedding.”

“No drinks at the wedding, of course. We’ve got a bit until we’re back home, why don’t you rest, baby?”

“I’m not that drunk, Newton.” Hermann levels a glare at him and Newt chuckles.

“Alright. Rest, babe.”