Work Text:
Go to sleep, ya shank
Thomas was downright exhausted. The Gladers had run through the blazing wasteland nearly the entire day. The sun had etched a red burn into their skin despite their shielding sheets and Thomas was convinced that he could shake at least half a desert worth of sand out of his shoes.
But now, Minho had finally ordered to set up camp and all the boys fell to the sandy ground, panting and grabbing their water bottles. Not many words were exchanged as they ate, readied themselves to drift to sleep and wrapped their sheets around them, hoping for some kind of protection from the merciless cold of the night. It would only cost precious energy to talk and everyone was battling their own doubts and unpleasant thoughts anyways. Thomas was no exception.
As the sun dropped over the horizon and the night swallowed the land, he was still wild awake, unable to sleep. Not with the thousands of questions and thoughts racing through his head like a tornado. So he just sat there, knees pressed to his chest, staring at the sky. He wondered if it was real, or if it was just a ceiling like in the Glade, ready to turn grey if he just stared long enough.
He was so focused on the shining stars and velvet blue of the night sky that he didn’t notice the movement of a figure approaching him from his back. As the person sat down beside him, he jumped a bit, not thinking another one of the Gladers would be awake. Quickly he turned his head and looked right into Newts’ eyes.
“Can’t sleep either?” he asked the obvious, voice laced with his heavy accent. Thomas had always liked it in combination with his calming voice. It sounded welcoming, something you would connect the word “home” with.
Thomas nodded and turned his head away. His eyes trained on the city they had yet to reach. “Too much to think about”
If Newt had a reaction, he didn’t see it, but his eyes were also fixed on the lights in front of them.
“You think we are gonna make it?” Newt asked the question that had also plagued Thomas since they left for the save haven.
Thomas wanted to be confident. He wanted to promise it to the boy next to him, but he didn’t know if they would. He had doubts, like each and every one of the Gladers. But he could feel Newt’s gaze studying him, so he opened his mouth, ready to force out a lie that would make him feel better. But as soon as he started to say “Yes” in the most courageous tone he could muster, Newt cut him off.
“I am scared, Tommy,” he stated, his voice serious but calm “They all are, and I know you are too, so you can drop your bloody hero behaviour ‘round me, ya hear me?”
For a second, Thomas just looked at him blankly, but then he sighted and gave in “Yes, I am scared. I am scared that we’re not gonna make it to the shucking haven. I’m scared that our food and water won’t be enough. I’m scared that there are only Cranks in the city.” He paused to take a breath, but Newt didn’t interrupt “And even if we reach the haven, who says that there really is a cure. Maybe they are just playing with us, Newt. Maybe it’s just another game for them. “ His voice grew more desperate with every word.
Newt’s gaze had softened and the wrinkles on his forehead had disappeared and something in his eyes had changed, making him look younger. Thomas realised that he never saw him like that. His face completely relaxed and his eyes without any signs of paranoia or stress. He still was a teenager. Like him. Like all the other Gladers. Maybe it hit him just now, because he always had looked older; Brows furrowed; voice filled with authority and always talking about something that he needed to worry about.
“I’m bloody scared, Tommy” Newt repeated, as if doing so would make it better. Thomas looked right into his chestnut eyes “But we’re gonna get through this.”
He inched closer to him, grabbing his arm, trying to underline his promise.
A light breeze had come up, ruffling Newt’s hair in a beautiful way and chasing sand grains in small circles over the dry earth.
“There are just so many things that could go wrong” Thomas voiced his worries, determined to let everything out. “And it’s all just an experiment for them. We’re just pawns on a chess board, that gets thrown over, whenever something seems under control. I hate living like this. Not knowing what to do.”
Newt had watched him intensely through his rant, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in any way. His eyes radiated compassion and made Thomas feel better at an instant.
“I know” Newt said softly, his voice merely above a whisper, and Thomas suddenly realised how close the two of them sat together. Their knees were touching and Newt’s lips were only a few inches from his own. And if they both had the same thought at the same exacted time they leaned in and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.
The feeling was incredible.
It seemed like everything had been pushed into place and every thought spiralling in Thomas’ head became irrelevant. The cold of the night that had crept through Thomas body got replaced by a warmth, setting his whole frame on fire. The only thing he could think about was Newt and the world around him disappeared in a swirl of dull colours.
They both pulled back after a brief moment, looking into each other’s’ eyes, not daring to breath. And then suddenly something snapped between them.
Immediately they pulled themselves closer to each other and met in a more desperate and messier kiss, greedy for the feeling that came with it. Their hands touched every inch of skin available, roaming around their faces, necks and ran through hair. Thomas slipped his hand under Newt’s shirt, relishing the soft feeling and pulling him in his lap, while Newt’s hands came to a stop in his hair, tugging lightly and leaving a satisfying burn behind.
After a few minutes they parted, but rested their foreheads against each other, letting their ragged breaths wash over their faces. Newts’ hands rested on Thomas chest, grasping his collar, whereas Thomas’ hands where still hidden under the soft fabric of his shirt, tracing calming patterns on the hot skin.
There was no way to describe what Thomas felt. It was pure bliss dripping over him, taking away all doubts and sorrows and for the first time since he got out of the small box in the Glade he felt perfectly content as if he had finally grasped something to hold in a world he couldn’t possibly control.
And with that overwhelming sensation of happiness came the feeling a weight, worth hundreds of pounds, had lifted from his chest, finally letting him breath and banning the ill feeling in his stomach that came with the uncertainty he was exposed to each and every day.
Thomas got ripped out of his thoughts by a light chuckle coming from the boy in his lap. He pulled away, a grin on his face. It was obvious why Newt laughed. The whole moment seemed ridicules. It was absurd to experience such happiness in a place and time like this, they both could be dead the next day, and still they thought the moment as perfect.
Thomas tried to capture Newts’ lips once again, hoping for another passion filled kiss, but he backed away as soon as their lips met, pushing Thomas away from him. The denied boy pouted and tried again, but the grin on the other boy’s face got only bigger as he shoved him slightly once again.
“We should go to sleep” said Newt, standing up to get to his own sleeping place.
Or at least that was his plan, but Thomas pulled him back by his hips, stealing a quick kiss.
“Stay” he proposed, a smirk playing on his lips.
Newt sighted, running his hands through Thomas’ hair. “What about the others” he said, nodding towards the group.
“I don’t give a shuck about ‘em.”
“You’re a bloody idiot, Tommy.“ resignation filled Newts voice
“I know, but I am your idiot” Thomas retoured as he laid down beside him
“Go to sleep, ya shank”