Note: This is a Canon Universe Newtmas oneshot that takes place during the scorch trials. The gladers' have escaped from WICKED headquarters and are running in an attempt to find the right arm while traveling through the abandoned city. I don't own TMR or the characters, nor do I own the songs mentioned in this oneshot.
Thomas hated falling asleep. The actual sleep part was just fine, but in the hours before, it seemed that every unwanted impending thought weighed down on him. No matter where he was or what he was sleeping on, be it concrete, rock, grass, or his bed in the glade, it always happened the same way. He'd stare up at the roof, ceiling, stars, whatever was above him for the night, and file through every insecurity and struggle the library in his brain had to offer.
Almost always he thought about the others. He worried about Minho and Teresa. Frypan would make appearances, and the thought of Winston would make him shiver. He would relive his sadness for Chuck, he'd think about Alby and what he would've wanted.
And more often than the others, he'd wonder about Newt.
The guy was his best friend, that was for certain. Heaven only knew just how much Thomas worried about him. He felt a monstrous amount of concern and an obligation to protect him.
However, there were also times when Thomas caught himself thinking about Newt's eyes and how his accent even popped up in his laughter. Thomas turned over and over in his mind the nickname that only Newt called him, secretly pleased. He visualized his hair, how it was always a mess and still looked perfect at the same time. He even recollected the way it felt when Newt would grip his shoulder when he tried to reason with Thomas, looking him in the eyes like an equal. There were too many things that jumped to the forefront of his mind when Newt was on the brain. Thomas was even coming to the conclusion that he might be thinking about Newt a little too much.
Tonight, he thought, is no exception.
Despite using his backpack as a pillow, there was no comfort beneath his sore back. Currently laying in the kitchen of an abandoned apartment, Thomas decided that he didn't like sleeping on floor tile. His muscles had accustomed themselves to hard conditions, but that didn't mean it wasn't shucking uncomfortable.
A few feet away was the restless sound of Frypan snoring, but other than that there were only the soft sounds of his friends' steady breathing. The repetition of each soft snore was entrancing, so it made sense that Thomas would jump a little at the soft 'click' of a flashlight that interrupted the pattern. Thomas turned his head towards the light that now filled the old room, the beam of a bright glow revealing the outline of a thin figure.
Thomas didn't move, observing Newt shuffle across the floor with his flashlight beam illuminating the kitchen's crumbled walls. Normally Thomas probably would've pretended to be asleep, but it was Newt and his curiosity and desperation got the better of him.
"Can't sleep?" Thomas whispered just above the sound of the others' snores.
Newt turned his head towards Thomas with eyes that were obviously sleep deprived, dark bags beneath them. He shone the flashlight up at the ceiling so they could both see each other.
"Not really."
"Me neither."
A grunt was Newt's immediate reply. "I can't lay here any longer listening to Frypan's bloody snoring."
Thomas moved off the backpack to sit up on his elbows. "You've had to deal with it longer than me."
"I could shove a sock in his mouth, I want good sleep."
Thomas smirked at that, though it was short lived. "What're you gonna do then? It won't be light for a couple hours."
"I'm gonna go look for some extra supplies. There's no point in lying here if I can't even get some shut-eye."
"You can't go alone Newt. There's cranks."
The blonde shrugged. "Come with me then. That way I'll have someone to protect."
Thomas rolled his eyes and stood, grabbing his bag. He turned and took a steady step over Teresa, a jacket lying across her torso.
The two boys left the kitchen quietly, both of them holding flashlights to lead the way. The group had found refuge in the apartment building several hours before, having made sure their chosen haven was crank-free. Thomas and Newt quietly left through the apartment's front door, walking down the hallway to the next one. The door was open slightly, a soft breeze passing through.
Newt slowly pushed on the door, revealing a trashed living room with an open window, the curtains fluttering eerily. He immediately went for the old couch in hopes he could lay on it, though he was disappointed to see the cushions were missing.
"Someone was smart and took good stuff," Thomas stated.
"Yeah, like a couch cushion? Bloody hell." Newt eyed the naked, springy base of the sofa with a disapproving frown.
Thomas left Newt in the living room to scout out the rest of the apartment. He slipped through the hallway to check the bedroom and bathroom. After opening all the doors slowly and searching for any signs of life, Thomas diagnosed that they were free of any nighttime demons. Just as he was about to return to Newt, Thomas heard a strange sound from the living room.
Thomas' instinctive first thought was of potential danger, and he was prepared to race in and help Newt. He felt the adrenaline rising quickly, but as he listened more closely the sound became more hauntingly familiar.
"Newt?"
There was no reply. Thomas crept back into the living room to find Newt standing in front of an old record player, the source of the sound. It stood on the bookshelf in the corner, and Newt was watching intently as the record spun round and round, mesmerized by the needle scratching along the grooves of the disc.
Thomas placed his bag on the floor. "I guess not all the good stuff was taken." He whispered to the blond in a voice with a curious edge, walking closer to peer at their newfound treasure.
Newt appeared sad, like a child that had lost something. There was recognition in his eyes as he watched the record.
"It's a turntable," he said. For a moment he really did seem that he'd lost something. "I think-" He paused. "I think my dad had one."
It was quiet for a bit, the two of them watching in silence. Thomas had heard music before for certain, he knew he recognized it. But thanks to WICKED, he couldn't quite grasp the memories that danced just out of reach.
The music was soft and had no words, extremely pleasing to the ear. Both boys watched the record until the song came to a close.
Awakened from his trance, Newt grabbed a box full of more records from the shelf. He sat on the floor cross-legged, sifting through them.
"What do you wanna play?" His eyes were wide and childlike.
Thomas squatted next to him and looked at the records. The box was made of cardboard and falling apart, 60s and 70s Hits scribbled on the front in black ink. All the records inside were large, colorful, paper cases with words and images on the front. Thomas didn't recognize any of them.
In some strange miracle, Newt did. He immediately plucked one from the variety, an orange one with a faded image of men holding guitars and the words Come And Get Your Love.
"This one."
Thomas raised an eyebrow at Newt.
Newt smirked. "Well?"
Thomas bit his lip and stood up straight while Newt pulled out the black record.
"Have you even heard the song?"
"No."
"Then why this one?" Thomas stole a look at the box. "That one looks better." He pointed to another one that read The Beatles.
"I'm not listening to a band that decided to call themselves 'The Beatles,' Tommy." Newt smirked again and turned to place the circular record on the turntable.
"Says the guy called 'Newt.'"
Newt kicked him lightly in response.
The record clicked into place and Newt softly set the needle down. It spun a bit, playing a fuzzy noise that tickled Thomas' ears until the tune began.
It was on low volume, loud enough that they could hear it and enjoy the lively beat, yet quiet enough that it wouldn't leave the room. Newt's eyes lit up the moment the beat started, and the childish excitement that Newt rarely radiated did things to Thomas' stomach and made him want to scream.
And then an old voice, a bit rugged yet pleasing began to sing.
"Hey (hey) What's the matter with your head? yeah…"
The two of them stood still, entranced, yet there was an urge to move that Thomas couldn't exactly describe. Should he move? What do you do?
Newt knew what to do, and Thomas already knew he was melting.
"Hey (hey) What's the matter with your mind and all your sighing?
And-a ooh-ohh.."
Thomas observed Newt move in such a way that he'd never seen. It was strange and wonderful at the same time, his movements in line with the beat of the song. The dancing continued to gradually grow more intense as the lyrics and tune moved faster and then slower.
"Hey (hey) Nothin's a matter with your head, baby, find it…
Come on and find it..."
The smile on Newt's cheeks was intoxicating, it was genuine, it was real. Thomas couldn't seem to recall ever seeing a smile that true on anyone.
"Hell, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine and you're mine...
And you look so divine…"
Although Thomas didn't really have anything to compare Newt's dancing to, he recognised one thing about the dancing. It was good, and also, very very bad.
It might've been his leg, or it might've been the fact that Newt had no idea what he was doing, but the blond was enjoying every moment that his body could move. He was savoring the fun and the pleasure, the sweet taste of safety.
There were no cranks after them, no sand storms to run from. No WICKED to fight and no gladers to look after. They were experiencing a glimpse of happiness, and in that moment Thomas believed with all his heart that they would survive.
Nothing was going to happen to either of them.
"Come and get your love…"
So Thomas began to dance.
"Come and get your love…"
He just kept dancing.
"Come and get your love…"
He tapped his feet and moved his hands, his head shook.
"Come and get your love…"
It's true that dancing felt out of place and strange. However, just the simple act made him grin. Nothing could prevent the dimples from popping up beneath Thomas's smile. It was so extreme and toxic- genuine happiness.
"Hey (hey) What's the matter with your feel right?
Don't you feel right, baby?"
And then Newt grabbed his hands. In one swift motion Thomas was spinning.
Laughing, Newt kept spinning the brunet round and round like the turntable. The living room rotated across Thomas's vision and he felt his head grow fuzzy.
"Hey, oh, yeah, get it from the main vine, alright...
I said-a find it, find it, darling, love it
If you like it, yeah-eh..."
They didn't break their hold on each other for the rest of the song. If they weren't spinning each other they were swinging on the other's hands, using gravity to pull themselves back. And if they weren't doing that? Their hands were still together, pulling one or the other to the beat.
"Hey (hey) It's your business if you want some
Take some, get it together, baby…"
Newt was beautiful. His cheeks had grown red and his head was beginning to stick to his skin with sweat. Thomas wasn't even sure what he looked like, though he was hoping that Newt didn't care.
"Come and get your love…"
Of course he didn't care.
"Come and get your love…"
He looked just as in love as he did.
"Come and get your love…"
Maybe it was the way Thomas couldn't stop smiling, maybe it was the way Newt squeaked 'Tommy!' in a playful way that made Thomas feel like they were children on a playground. Whatever it was, Thomas decided that what he felt for the blond wasn't just a growing fondness anymore.
"Come and get your love…"
The two of them probably should've kept track of time. Neither were sure how much time had passed, but the boys had danced through more songs than Thomas could think to count. They'd used almost every record in the cardboard box.
Newt had grudgingly declared after a bit that he did thoroughly enjoy The Beatles. Thomas had laughed at one song about piña coladas and had made Newt replay it twice. However, their favorite still stood to be the first song they'd danced to. The majority of the songs were swift and playful, and neither of the boys were even complaining about being tired.
"We should head back soon," Thomas declared after noticing the little bit of light that had begun to steal its way through the broken window.
Newt bit his lip. "Alright, but one last dance." Newt sat sifting through more boxes of records they'd found in the closet.
"What haven't we heard though?" Thomas added the disc they'd listened to last, Stayin' Alive by The Bee Gees, into the towering pile of 'played' songs. "The last song's gotta be a good one."
Newt nodded in agreement and continued to look through the boxes. Thomas stretched across the floor with his back against the front of the couch and peered over at Newt. He contently watched Newt bite his lip while concentrating through the rest of the records, and happily observed his jawline through his eyelashes.
"This one." Newt leapt up and placed it on the turntable immediately, not even letting Thomas see the cover.
The brunet peered over to try and take a curious look. "What song is it?"
Newt gave Tommy a sly smile. "You'll see." He placed the needle down and stood still for a moment as the needle found it's starting ridge.
The tune began soft and slow. For a moment Thomas felt puzzled at why Newt would choose such a slow and simple song.
"Why this song-"
"Take my hand."
Thomas gazed over at Newt and first noticed the slight red tint in his cheeks. He seemed completely serious, his hand lifted to Thomas with an open palm. His stance contrasted the boisterous mood from before, but Newt still had a small smile on his face.
"Do you trust me?"
Of course he did. He cautiously took Newt's hand and nodded slightly.
"When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see…"
Newt made a move that Thomas had not predicted. His friend placed his left hand at the small of Thomas's back, pulling the two close together.
Thomas didn't move.
"No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me…"
What was he supposed to do now? Newt had just made the situation way more intimate than Thomas had ever, ever predicted would happen.
Somehow he didn't feel like complaining.
"Oh darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand by me, stand by me…"
Thomas gently, carefully placed his hand on Newt's hip. They were extremely close, the warm feeling of Newt's breathing tickled his nose. Thomas could see Newt's adam's apple bob as he swallowed and suddenly became very nervous.
"If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
And the mountains should crumble to the sea..."
With Thomas' right hand clasping Newt's left and his left hand at Newt's side, the two began to dance.
It was slow and steady, neither the slightest bit knowledgeable in partner dancing.
"I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me…"
A tickling feeling warmed up Thomas' chest as their feet took small, shuffled steps together. Thomas was acutely aware of Newt's breathing as he rested his head on Thomas' shoulder.
"And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now by me, stand by me, stand by me-e, yeah…"
Newt's thumb rubbed the back of Thomas's shirt in circles, and his skin beneath the fabric felt like it was on fire. Thomas was going to melt, he was sure of it now.
How had this happened? How had this small yet so significant event found its way into Thomas' life?
"And darlin', darlin', stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now by me, stand by me, stand by me-e, yeah…"
Thomas suddenly gripped Newt's hand tighter.
"Listen," He whispered suddenly, not knowing what he was doing or what thing was controlling him to speak. A stutter in his voice prevented Thomas from appearing confident, but rather shaken and passionate. "I-I just want you to know-"
"Can I kiss you?"
Thomas' feet halted in their steps. Newt lifted his head from Thomas's shoulder and the blond bit his lip, obviously worried and probably regretting what he'd just done.
Thomas felt his heart pound and the adrenaline fill his brain like wild fire.
Was this right? Was this normal? He was confused, he felt strange and worried and yet...
"Yes."
Newt stared at him for a moment, and then his lips found Thomas' own. It was so different than Thomas had ever imagined, so unique and sweet. Newt's hands steadily shifted from their places at Thomas' back and hand to the brunet's chin. He cupped Thomas' jaw as if it were glass, gingerly pushing his lips just a tad bit more against his.
It didn't get any more intense than that. It was wonderfully faint and tender, lasting only a few moments. Their lips lost contact, though their foreheads still touched.
They said nothing else. Neither was sure what to do or say, both of them having had acted on impulse from built up underlying tension grown during their night of dancing.
Newt laughed like a whisper. "I never thought that this would happen."
Thomas didn't respond, only humming happily against Newt's chest.
"Thanks for the dance Tommy."
"Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me, oh now now stand by me
Oh stand by me, stand by me
Oh stand by me, stand by me…"
Note: And that's the end of this oneshot. This is the first one I've posted on and I hope you enjoyed! You don't have to listen to the songs, but if you're curious (I hope you are) look up the songs "Come and get your love" by Redbone and "Stand By Me" by Ben E King.