Pacific Rim Fic: Kaiju? I Hardly Knowju

[confusedkayt]

SPOILERS FOR PACIFIC RIM: Ok, I loved me some Hannibal Chau. I loved me some Hermann Gottlieb. And I REALLY loved me some Newt Geiszler. On second viewing, Hannibal's hilarious attempts to impress Newt really jumped out at me; the whole conversation about laparoscopic surgery, the "I knew that within seconds..." And, an irresistible desire for fic was born. I'd be so, so up for any thoughts anybody had about voice, or anything really. This is going to be a multi-chapter type production.

Title: Kaiju? I Hardly Knowju
Rating: Right now, probably PG-13 for swearing, but in the medium-distance there will be some smut
Pairing: Hannibal Chau/Newt Geiszler
Characters: Newt Geiszler, Hannibal Chau, Hermann Gottlieb, with supporting work from, oh, prettymuch everybody who ended up onscreen
Summary: Hannibal Chau is, apparently, not dead. And kind of funny. And good to work with. And also terrifying, but also kind of not, and that's really weird but also pretty cool. This is, apparently, Newt's life. At least there's a metric ton of interesting work to be done, reasonably cushy funding (goodbye, Jell-o, hello actual chocolate) and a lab partner who is, surprisingly, kind of a ride-or-die badass.



So, this isn't working out so well for him. First of all, ok, maybe asking Mako for giftwrapping advice had been, in retrospect, kind of a horrible idea. It wasn't because she's a woman, he swears, although maybe it was a little bit, because maybe that's got something to do with her rocking style and general ability to make her little room-cell-thingy look like a grown-up lives in it, but he didn't mean it that way, oh god the disappointed little look on her face... Anyway, if Newt didn't feel like shit already, she'd informed him firmly but politely that Jianguo doesn't drink, has in fact been dry for three years and counting, so maybe a bottle of Scotch (or whatever he purchased which is labelled as Scotch, the bottle's right but honestly he's a little dubious) is a really stupidly horrible gift idea, and he feels terrible about not knowing that, but his Mandarin's not great, ok, and they kind of chit-chat but not about anything important, and besides he's been a little busy, which, so has Mako, so it comes back down to "I am a horrible person and Jianguo probably hates me because nobody else has slime crusts to clean up and all of the extra ration books I've wormed out of Pentecoast over the years for his kids are in no way compensation for having to deal with the gross, gross blood-kaiju-and-medical-goo mess I left in the lab even if it helped save the world, that still sucks, buddy." So what Newt's saying is it's back to the drawing board, here. Which is why he's trawling through the streets looking for an open bakery or something in the middle of day 2 of the "Yay, There Is No Risk We're Gonna Be Stomped Into Dust By Kaiju Today Or Ever Again" party. He could have maybe thought this through. But, seriously, Hong Kong, somebody's got to be selling something, right? Which is how he ends up in the Bone Slums, kind of mostly by accident, but seriously, if liquor's not gonna work prettymuch nothing in the Bone Slums is what you'd call an improvement and he doesn't love the looks he's getting.

He loves the big old hand that lands on his shoulder even less and holy shit wouldn't it be ironic if he'd lived through all that just to get shivved on the streets trying to buy a goddamned pastry for the nice janitor and that is totally a knife in his side. "Wallet's in the right pocket," he squeaks, because just maybe he can head this off at the pass and oh god that means he's gonna have to walk all the way back home and there's a snort, hot and heavy enough to ruffle his hair, what a stupid way to die...

"I don't want your pennies, kid," and wait, he knows that voice, impossible, he saw the guy get eaten, this is just... un-possible, no way, no way. Then he's spun around roughly and, ok, yes way, that is totally Hannibal Chau, accept no substitutes, even if he is all weirdly pink, acid burns probably, ouch, that's commitment to wear a full suit over those. "Where's my god damn shoe?"

Deep breath and, ok, there's that knife, he's got this one, he knows the answer, spit it out, Newt. "Memorial," he chokes out, and Hannibal's big old brow furrows a little harder than usual. Sentences. He can do that. "It's on the Memorial at the Shatterdome, dude, I'm sorry, I thought you were dead," and something flashes across the big guy's face before it's back to a forced-looking sneer.

"Well, then, we're gonna go and get it."

"We?" he says, and that was not a squeak, even if the knife is back and pressing closer than is really goddamn comfortable, ok, lay off, he likes this jacket.

"Yeah, we. You don't have any god damn sense. If I sent you to fetch it you'd be dead on the street before you got three blocks from the Shatterdome," and wow, harsh, but maybe there's some truth in that, look how well shopping's working out for him and he's not carrying a big weird suspicious-looking giant shoe just the moment.

Don't you have people for that, he wants to ask, but for once in his life he manages to shut the hell up although it must show on his face because Hannibal snorts again and growls, "Besides, I need to talk to Hansen, make sure he remembers who's got salvage rights on those corpses by the Breach now that Pentecoast's out of the picture."

"Ok," he manages, because clearly his consent really matters, when there's already a big gold limo - a gold limo where do you even get something like that - pulling up next to them and somehow the streets are clear enough for it to get through, no problem. Hannibal shoves him in and he tries to scrap together a tiny bit of dignity but just possibly you could call it scrambling, and ok, maybe "pressing right up against the door" isn't high in the annals of Things To Do If You're Dignified but see how you like getting in an enclosed space with Hannibal "Death Is Just The Beginning" Chau. Hannibal pushes a button and the glass in front of them, like, morphs from black to opaque, and that's pretty sweet, even if he's probably have felt better not knowing that there's three thugs crammed in the front seat, including but not limited to that bald lady who is giving him a scary look, but that might just be her face, and wow, this is his life.

"Shatterdome," Hannibal growls, and then it's back to black again.

"That is seriously so cool," he says before he can stop himself and Hannibal barks out a short laugh.

"I like it," he allows, and hits another button and geez, things are moving, things he is sitting on are moving, not good, and oh geez, he's scrambled right into Hannibal, who elbows him off surprisingly peaceably. "Relax, kid. Drink?" The thing he was sitting on is some kind of crazy mechanical bar, apparently, full of some weird dry ice or something because it's steaming but the bottles are sealed, he notices.

"I could kinda use one," he admits, and Hannibal laugh-barks again, presses Newt back up against the seat with a big flocked-suit-covered arm and snags a couple of cups and one of the bottles. He pours for both of them and sticks the bottle between his big feet - snakeskin shoes - or maybe kaiju skin - could it be, holy shit, he's got no self-preservation because he leaned right forward to look at them, didn't he, and yep. There's really only one thing that could be.

"Like 'em?" Hannibal flashes his gold teeth. "Had 'em made out of a bit of that little bastard that tried to eat me," and tried, jeez, succeeded and also that is insane but also, let's be honest, pretty fucking cool.

Which Newt is not, right now. He leans back, totally casual, and so what if Hannibal's smirk grew three sizes that day. He takes the cup he's offered, smooth, cool as a cucumber, and okay, fine, it just seems prudent to wait 'till Hannibal takes a swig before he tucks into what proves to be a very smooth shochu. "Good instincts," Hannibal chuckles, "but relax. If I was gonna kill you, wouldn't risk getting you all over my good suit," and that shouldn't be funny, but Newt's laughing, and Hannibal is too, and it's hard to be too terrified of a guy who snort-laughs, so that's ok, then.

When they settle down again, Hannibal kind of quirks his mouth at Newt, says, "Thought you'd all long gone by now."

"Nah, we're sticking around for a while, cleaning up, monitoring the Breach, all that good stuff. Wait, is that classified? Probably, kind of, but not that classified."

Hannibal laughs again, the stops, glares at him. "Monitoring the Breach, you say?"

"Well, yeah, not that there's much to monitor, but it's not exactly the kind of thing where you want to be pretty sure, you know?" Hannibal looks a little... worried? Mad? Anyway, that's not a good face, moving right along.... "Besides, I've got tons of stuff to do, you don't even know, adaptive cloning is some crazy stuff..."

"Cloning?" Hannibal says, slowly, and oh shit, he probably really, really wasn't supposed to say that, but hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Yeah, don't, like, tell people, but the kaiju were all, well, clones, kind of, genetically identical, which is pretty crazy when you look at the range of expression of physical traits, and that's fascinating, if I can figure it out - and I totally will, man, it's nice to have time on your side for this kind of research, you don't even know, I haven't slept this much in forever - then the medical applications alone..."

Hannibal whistles. "You're sitting on a gold mine," and that's definitely a considering look. Oh, hell, look what he's done.

"We won't be able to clone kaiju," he adds hastily and yeah, Hannibal's definitely squinting at him, measuring, not good, not even a little good. "We'd be decades off that kind of tech, even if anyone was crazy enough to want to try it, it's more like... The mechanism for doing it, if I can map that out, get a good handle on it - think replacement spleens, your own bone marrow on tap, that kind of thing - not that I can do much with that, personally, I'm kinda a one-species-wonder..."

"I feel like a broken record, kid, but relax. Too much trouble to kidnap you."

Newt laughs - that's not a giggle, it isn't, and ok, fine, neither is it convincing, exactly. "So what about you?" he says in a rush.

Hannibal shrugs. "If there's no more comin', means what I've got is worth a god damn fortune." He gestures at the cup. "You're drinkin' your thanks right there."

"Salut," he says before thinking about it, and there's that snort-laugh again. "And, hey-o, here's the Shatterdome."

The car stops and he's trying to figure out how to get the bar back in but no, of course not, of course he's got to scramble across the seat and get "helped" out of the car by the bald lady, who totally pinched his elbow on purpose, he just knows it. Hannibal hooks a finger -Jesus Christ, his pinkie's the size of a sausage - into Newt's shirtsleeve and rumbles, "Don't run off, kid," and then of course he laughs when Newt grumbles "the name's Newt, jeez."

"I'm pretendin' it isn't for your own good, what in the hell kind of a name is that?"

"A perfectly good one," and, ok, Newt was not prepared for the rush of relief-swiftly-followed-by-terror that he'd get from hearing Hermann's voice because, wow, good to have backup but now he's got to worry about his lab buddy too. "Mister Chau. If you'd be so good as to unhand Dr. Geiszler, Marshall Hansen will be free to see you in an hour."

"It's a damn good thing that my buddy here's gonna show me around so I won't be left waiting around with my thumb up my ass, then, isn't it," and, ok, a hard arm caging Newt around the shoulders is not an improvement, nosiree.

There's guards, at least, he hadn't noticed them but Hannibal's people sure have and they don't exactly look pleased about it. Yeah, no, not starting a black-market-versus-military war, nope, nope, nope. "It's ok, Hermann," and yay, he sounds pretty normal, that's good. "I promised I'd show Hannibal the Memorial, it's cool."

And there's Tendo Choi, throwing Hannibal a peace sign like the total boss he is. "Go right ahead, Newt. Hannibal, all right if I take your buddies and catch up on the gossip? I'll keep 'em comfortable."

"You'd better," Hannibal mutters, not loud enough to carry over to Tendo. "All right, guys. Be seein' you," he says, levels a hard look at Tendo. Joy of joys, he drops the arm but wraps his big paw around Newt's elbow so, better, yes; good, not so much. "Let's go, kid."

Hermann falls into step with them and Hannibal's clearly trying to outpace him, but god bless Hermann because he's hobbling like a racehorse and he'll totally feel that later and that's just not on. Newt jerks short and ow, Hannibal's squeeze hurts, but he makes himself smile and says, "Where are my manners? Hannibal, this is Dr. Gottlieb," and Hermann nods his thanks for the title, but seriously, he is being a fucking trooper right now, "the other half of the research division and all-around kick-ass science boss."

"Pleasure," Hannibal grunts, releasing Newt's elbow to offer what looks like a bone-crunching handshake. Herman's pissy expression doesn't alter. Stone. Cold. Badass. Sort of like Newt, because he didn't blow it by skittering away because, ok, better him than Hermann for the whole prisoner-of-their-handsy-guest-duty thing. Hannibal gives Hermann a hard look and leans in, clearly staring at his damaged eye, and snorts. Ooh, burn, it's ruffled Hermann's immaculate hair but for once he doesn't fix it right away, just stares Hannibal down which, seriously, he always knew Hermann had it in him. "Can't believe there's two of you crazy motherfuckers."

"We saved the world," Hermann bites out and Hannibal leans back, laughing. Sure enough, Hannibal's hand's back on Newt's elbow but it's gentler, now, and he's smiling wide enough to show off his whole grill.

"Fair enough," he says, gives a little tug and they're walking again. Everyone is totally staring at them and trying to pretend they aren't which, okay, also fair.

"So, uh, I bet you had a big old party at your place?" Newt tries because the silence is sort of freaking him out, to be honest, better to keep it friendly, right, even if he's kind of being half-hauled by Mr. Black Market and Hermann's glaring daggers at the both of them.

"What, me? The guys did a little something but I've been soaking in this gross goddamn neutralizer for the past couple days. Word of advice, don't climb inside one of those things." Newt stares, incredulous, because, really? Really? "Normally it'd go without saying but all evidence suggests you're a crazy sunnavabitch."

He laughs, and the vibrations kind of start Newt laughing, too, even though it's not funny, exactly. Hannibal smiles almost.... fond? "I'm surprised you haven't even asked what it was like in there."

Oh. Wow. Yes. That. "About that..."

"Calm down, crazy," he laughs. "Breathe. I wrote it all down right afterward, figured a little something for the press, you know? But I bet you'd appreciate the finer details. I'll show you sometime."

Okay, yes, dignity, goodbye, but seriously, that is awesome, and better men then he would have succumbed to the need to clap excitedly at that kind of opportunity, seriously, first person...

And then Hannibal ruins it by ruffling his hair. "If you're nice."

"Not cool, dude!" Newt cries, patting his back into place as best he can with his free hand.

"What, exactly, does 'nice' entail?" and, okay, Hermann has always been the master of vocalizing the air quote.

"I know it when I see it," Hannibal drawls, and it's Hermann's turn to huff, and this is pretty damn surreal, all round.

Thank god, they're at the Memorial. It's not an easy thing to look at - punches that victory feeling right on out of you, actually. He kind of half-turns his head on instinct and jeez, it's weird, but Hannibal kind of squeezes his arm in this gentle, supportive type way that kind of snaps him out of it because that is seriously weird. Nice, yes, but totally, totally weird.

"It's over this way," he whispers, and Hannibal nods, relinquishes his arm so he can lead. He'd put the shoe kind of toward the right edge, right by the tube of Lt. Kaidanovsky's lipstick and the Cherno Alpha crew's totally badass poster because Russia knows for propaganda. Oh jeez, he'd forgotten, how had he forgotten, well, to be fair, he has been busy being terrified- that right over the shoe he'd gone and tacked up a screencap from one of those Kaiju Remedies ads and scribbled, "RIP, died like a total badass" across the bottom. Hannibal jerks to a stop, looks at it, looks at Newt, and geez those glasses make it hard to read his face. It's kind of a relief when he looks away and palms his shoe and, yeah, it's probably only right to take the poster down too, but he's tucking it inside his vest and that was... not expected. Hannibal kind of stares in silence for a second and then rumbles, "Thanks."

And what can he say but, "well, you did. Or I thought you did. Um, I'm glad you didn't, dude," and Hannibal kind of huffs, like he knows this isn't the sort of place where you laugh, and, like, clutch-pats Newt's shoulder in a comparatively gentle way. Which is long about the time Hermann huffs at them and yeah, that's more than enough of this. "You, uh, want some Jell-o or something? I'd offer you a drink, but all I have left is some maybe-Scotch and I don't want to, like, besmirch your honor or something by offering it."

Hannibal huffs again - seriously, his life is full of huffers, how has he not noticed this- and says, "nah, let's see your lab," and Hermann does this little shuffle dance and shakes his head and generally does everything short of mouthing "N-O" but he's seen Hannibal's workshop and it seems only fair, somehow.

"It's this way," he says, and man, Hermann should sigh for the Olympics.

"Been workin' on anything good?"

"World. Saved," Hermann adds, hilariously. Awesome. It's totally Newt's influence.

Hannibal kind of quirks his mouth. "Milking that one, aren't you. That was what, two days ago, minimum."

"Hey, now," Newt starts but Hannibal snorts at him and yeah maybe not a great idea to make a crack about how crime apparently sleeps after all. "I mean, slacking's totally a strong word. I will not deny that there may have been some sleeping and there definitely may have been some drinking, but come on, I wouldn't just let Otachi go to waste, plus, you know, Baby Otachi, and now that I know it was you who made those jaggedy incisions up the side I forgive you." Newt waves a magnanimous hand. "Circumstances, extenuating, I get it."

Hannibal expels an incredulous laugh, land his big hand on Newt's shoulder again. "You got guts, punk, I'll give you that."

"Come on, don't even lie to me, I know you're curious about kaiju fetal structure, if only because you can probably tell people it'll cure infertility or something," and Hannibal raises a speculative eyebrow. Well, oops.

"You lookin' at Mom for womb structure?" Newt totally wants credit for not saying 'yeah, your mom.' He also doesn't say, 'actually, it's egg sacs' because that would be mean and maybe embarrassing and hey, internal egg sacs are pretty womby, actually, kind a hybrid-type-thing and, well, he hadn't thought about it 'till he saw them, either. "Yeah, and a bunch of other stuff, super interesting, the concentration of the acid is insane and that tongue," and, ok, tactical error, don't talk about stuff that kind of freaks you out around someone who kinda does fear for a living, not that Newt's afraid, exactly, but cutting up a tongue that had once tasted him is kind of a weird experience? Especially because it's still bioluminescent and sometimes it sort of twitches, which, expected reaction to electrical current but still.

"I'll be taking a look myself," Hannibal says, kind of grim.

Newt kind of laughs and says, "sure, we can look right now if you want, and your guy's here, she's got more than half of the membrane tanked up but transport is kind of iffy right now so she's just been hanging out here," and Hannibal seems mollified by that, so, bonus.

"Good," is all he says, which, honestly, triggers Newt's babbling instinct.

"Yeah, I mean, we have a contract, we know where the funding came from, we aren't gonna be that guy," and Hannibal gives him a 'relax' sort of look, and he can do that. "Anyway. You're gonna want to see this. I'm still looking around, but there's something.... The baby's a totally different pH than the rest of them, which, still working on that," and Hermann gives him this look and oh, right, probably classified. "What? He's got half the membrane, Hermann, and they took most of the stomach lining to begin with, he'll figure that out in like two seconds." Hannibal shakes his head, but Newt's on a roll. "And besides, it's not like they aren't on the team," and Hannibal kind of startles at that, but Newt steamrolls right on, "I mean, Li's been working with us for two days..."

"Wait, Li's here?" Hannibal interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, told you, your guy's been here since V-R Day," Newt says, impatient.

Hermann's "Your usual utter lack of precision," kind of overlap's with Hannibal's "Guy? Don't say that where she can hear you."

"Don't you two gang up on me," he grumbles, and, ok, that's creepy, the tandem eyebrow raise is creepy.

"Thank god," Herman mutters, and what? Oh, one of Herc's aides is making a beeline for them.

"Marshall Hansen will see you now," and Newt has done zero things to earn that nasty look. Well, maybe like half a thing. It's not like this was the plan.

"'Bout time," Hannibal gripes, and then of course he thwacks Newt on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble, but at least he glares at the aide when he snickers. "Be seeing you," he says.

"Great," and that is not really what he meant to say but, you know, diplomacy. Apparently he's got some of that, unlike Hermann Snorts-a-lot over there.

And that's it, except Hannibal stops, abrupt, turns back to him because of course that was too easy. "Almost forgot. The hell were you doing in the slums?"

"Oh, that," Newt says, and shakes himself, takes a second to hit rewind. "I was, uh, looking for some cookies or something."

"Cookies?" And that tone, unnecessary, like that was so weird.

"Yeah, cookies, to give the janitor, because, well..."

Hannibal laughs at him. Again. "Cookies for the janitor," he repeats, and Newt's going to mouth off, he can feel it, but Hannibal kind of grins at him and says, "what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"His name, genius. The janitor," Hannibal articulates, like he's speaking to a slow kindergartner.

"What? Um..."

"I'll take care of it," Hannibal says, whipping out a phone. "Name. Now."

"Oh, um, Zhang Jianguo, I guess, but you don't have to..."

"Stay off the streets. Don't want you stabbed over some cookies, punk," and that's weird, but...

"Thanks, uh..."

"Not 'till I'm done with you," and that's just ominous. Hannibal tucks the phone back into his pocket, nods. "Consider it done."

"Great, thanks," he says, but Hannibal's already striding off, aide stumbling to keep up.

"Idiot," Hermann hisses, and thwacks Newt in the shins with his cane. Newt's not gonna disagree with that just right at this very moment.

Annnnnd there's the beginning of what he suspects will be one hell of an adrenaline crash. "I think I need to sit down," he confesses.

Hermann growls, "Idiot," again, but tugs Newt over to a handy bench, so that's all right then.