Work Text:
꩜──♡── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──♡──𖦹
The lights going out wasn’t uncommon in this office. With how much of Newt's own brand of ‘science’ went on, it was never a shock if a fuse blew.
Of course, she never got around to getting (or, god forbid, making) a back up generator. Fortunately, Gottlieb believed in the importance of old ways.
“Need one?” She asked, attempting to find a spot not covered in papers to place the candle.
“Yeah, that, uh…” Newt nodded, trying not to drop whatever it was she’d been making. Her face lit up at the offer, “That’d be good. Thanks.”
Gottlieb stacked some of the mess, making room, when it became abundantly clear that Newt had been in the middle of cleaning her office. This prompted two thoughts. One: Finally. Two: How in the world did she short out the power while cleaning?
Newt had obviously seen the look of confusion, but mistook the source. “Oh! Um–” her face reddened, snatching something off the table. “Ignore that.”
“Hm?” Gottlieb raised an eyebrow, cracking a smile at the flustered reaction. “What is it?”
“It– it’s not important…” her voice went squeaky and high pitched, the way it did when she was nervous or lying or both. There was a lot of overlap between the two.
“Clearly it is, if you’re making such a fuss about it.” She chuckled, trying to peek at the note. “Let me see.”
“No!” The nerves were even more clear this time, “No, it, um. It’s personal.”
“Personal?” She doubted that. If it was really personal; something medical or family related, Newt wouldn’t be so casual about it.
(And, yes, this was her being causal.)
“Mm-hm.” she nodded, refusing to continue.
Gottlieb almost chuckled, “If you're going to lie, at least think it through first.”
“I–!” she could almost hear the words “I’m not lying” die in her throat. “...Yeah. I know.”
With Newt’s posture slumped enough from the obvious defeat, the taller woman managed to grab the paper.
Newton's cries of alarm quickly dismissed, (they were far too theatrical to be serious, she knew) Gottlieb went straight to reading the note.
It was half crumpled, clearly old, and had almost every word partly scribbled out and replaced.
Dear
Doctor Gottlieb
You should know that
Since I first met--
When we started working together
I knew that
I think I am in love with you.
If you don’t feel the same, I’m happy to ask for another assignment.
– Newt.
And there was a small drawing of the amphibian next to the name, which, as Gottlieb had come to know, was a real part of her legal signature.
Newton quieted down as the other woman paused, but remained as nervous as ever.
She almost flinched when they made eye contact.
“You kept this?”
“Wh–” she blushed, “Yeah? I mean, of course I did. Why– Why wouldn’t I have?”
“Because I rejected you?” it wasn’t asked as a question. “And after I did it, you just scurried off like a sad little dog and didn’t mention it again?”
“Uh, well. Yeah. I… I guess that would be a good reason to have thrown it out.” She was doing the ‘sad little dog’ thing again.
Scanning over the note again, Gottlieb realised something. “This isn’t the note you gave me.”
“Well– it was the… the first draft, I guess? I don’t know. I thought you’d like it, but I didn’t want– uh. I didn’t want to make things weird, so.” she blushed, looking over the page herself. “That’s why it’s all scribbled out.”
“Yes, I can see why.” The note was passed back to Newt, who seemed wildly unsure if that was a good sign or not, but grateful either way. “It would’ve been very weird if you had given that to me back then.”
Newt frowned, as sad and pathetic as could be, until the words really sank in. When they did, she practically jumped. “Wait- Back then?”
“We didn’t know each other nearly well enough for this.” The smirk told Newt everything she needed to know.
“You–” she laughed, smiling wide. “You mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“I…” Gottlieb sighed, taking in the sight of her far too excitable co-worker/soon-to-be-girlfriend. “I suppose I have.”
꩜──♡── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──♡──𖦹