Chapter Thirty Four
Newt watched the Na'Vi as she leapt from her perch onto the back of her bird, as she loosed a cry and took to the air. He watched as she and Jake danced through the neon darkness, as the air carried them through hunts. He had avoided the movie for so long, so unconvinced by the concept that he had never attempted to watch it until Thomas had come along.
And now he shucking loved it.
He twisted to lift his face far enough to peer through the soft darkness of the room to where Thomas was curled in his usual corner of the couch. The brunette's eyes were half-lidded, each blink sedate and measured as he watched the screen. The colour palette of the movie flickered gently on his face, cool and dream-like, the soft pink of the Tree of Souls precious on his skin.
Newt's heart gave a slow, deep beat as he looked.
Thomas hadn't been sleeping too well lately, the past few nights unsettled. Newt had woken several times to find the brunette shifting and twisting, muttering under his breath or worming his way closer to the blonde. He'd found that a careful hand on his friend's shoulder and a whispered reassurance was all it took to make him settle down again, but it wasn't preventing how tired Thomas was the following day. And that was only on the nights when they shared one room or the other.
It seemed such a very alien concept to remember that sleeping alone was supposed to be what he was used to, not the nights he top-and-tailed with Thomas or the nights they fought over the pillows.
It had been almost a week of uneasy nights, ten days since Tomás had stepped into their lives. The two that Newt had slept alone were long and spent wondering if Thomas was sleeping any better alone. Aris had been driving Newt crazy with everything from not-so-subtle glances to a bombardment of texts which had Newt tearing at his hair in frustration. Teresa had promised, without him even needing to work out how to ask, to keep the whole thing to herself and not tell Minho. Newt felt bad about it, swearing it was only until he'd somehow reached a decision.
Because he knew Minho would tear him to pieces with sarcastic jokes, and then possibly proceed to tell Thomas and-
And Newt just wasn't ready for that quite yet.
He quirked a half-smile, watching the dancing light caress the face he'd grown to love so quickly and so deeply. Thomas's legs were tangle in a familiar manner with his own, his feet clad in soft black bed socks, one of which was twisted the wrong way and making Newt feel oddly emotional. The thought of Tomás sprang into his head unbidden, and set a sour taint to his mood.
It would be so much easier if he could find true fault with the bloke. If he could put his hand on his heart and honestly state that Tomás was awful, or that he wasn't Newt's "type", or that he held unfavourable views or that he was a bully, then it wouldn't be so bad.
But that was just the thing: Tomás was lovely.
He had begun to settle into their group, his smiles quicker and brighter than his nervous ones that first day, his laughter warm and easy. He was sweet and charming like Aris, comfortable and settled like Thomas. He was funny and optimistic and when he spoke in a rushed lilting voice of something he loved, his eyes flashed in a way that Newt had to reluctantly admit was… kinda bloody cute.
He shared Aris's love for Castiel and supported Minho's view on idiotic football players who were clearly paid too much. He talked art with Teresa and had begun teaching Thomas his favourite French nursery rhyme. And he had a Music theory knowledge to rival Newt's, speaking at length of an Opera he'd been introduced to recently, which just so happened to be Newt's favourite too.
Oh, and of course he agreed readily that the combination of the Musical and Horror genres in Sweeney Todd made it a candidate for the best film ever made.
He was simply a very nice, very sensible, very calm and friendly person and Newt hated the way his stomach had begun to sort of flip these past few days.
Not in the same deep swan dives that Thomas provoked, of course.
But still.
Newt swallowed the sudden melancholy that was rising in his throat and shifted his knee accidentally, bumping against Thomas's shin. The brunette blinked as though waking from a stupor and lifted his sleepy face to look at him, a gentle smile curving the sides of his mouth as he did so.
Newt's heart tumbled in a familiar clumsy summersault and his breath caught in surprise.
"Hey", Thomas mouthed.
Newt reached out a hand to give Thomas's knee a soft squeeze, quirking an eyebrow in response as he copied the silent word. Thomas's smile secured itself in place as he lay his head back down against the arm of the couch and turned his gaze back to the flickering screen.
Newt lay back down properly too, watching Thomas surreptitiously from the sides of his eyes.
Newt estimated that Thomas was asleep as the movie geared into the penultimate battle, the drone of the helicopters filling the room as the screen showed the many coloured creatures clinging to the mountains. He debated simply staying there once the film was over, like they had so many times before.
But in the end his concern for Thomas's sleep won out, and he untangled himself from their warm coil. He leaned down to touch shy fingers to the brunette's face, tracing the curve of one cheek as he whispered for him to wake.
"Come on, Tommy."
He offered a hand and pulled his dozy friend to his feet, slipping an arm around his waist automatically as Thomas's fingers gripped the opposite shoulder for support. Despite the warmth that rushed to his face, Newt felt no inclination to readjust their contact.
"Let's get ya to bed, yeah?"
"Mmf." came the reply, muffled by a yawn as the brunette turned his face into Newt's shoulder. "Tired."
"Yeah, ya don't say." Newt murmured back fondly, trying his best not to think about the way his heart was shouting about the rightness of this way, this moment here in the hush of the after-Midnight darkness, reliant on each other for balance. "Come on."
The stairs were tricky but the task so pleasant and unhurried that Newt didn't mind, and by the time he'd closed the bedroom door behind them his restraint was so thin he could think of nothing else but curling up beside Thomas and never moving again. Which, of course, he shouldn't do.
"Bed, Tommy." he murmured, glancing down at the younger boy's jeans and sweater combo. Are ya gonna change or are ya stayin' like this?"
Thomas yawned, his face moving so that his chin rested on Newt's shoulder and the sleepy golden eyes found his. Newt's heart gave that same familiar thump as that same rush of want rocketed up from the bottom of his gut. He swallow hard and raised an eyebrow in an attempt to cover up the way he was starting to tremble under the proximity and the warm, slightly charged air around them.
"You gonna change me, like?" Thomas muttered back, cheeky grin half asleep as it snuck onto his face.
Newt rolled his eyes.
"You're a wanker." he said, before giving the brunette a gentle shove that sent him down onto the bed.
Thomas simply gave a sweet, sleepy chuckle and curled onto his side, drawing his legs away from the side and rubbing the side of his face against the pillow. Newt watched him lie there for a moment as his breathing settled settled and Newt's heart began to beat regularly again.
He couldn't keep doing this. There was going to have to come a point when he simply had to stop torturing himself. Whether it was for Tomás, or yet another Tommy. It was only going to break him further if he allowed himself to continue falling this never ending fall for this brown-eyed singer with his cheerful grin and his understanding and his laughter and the way he-
The way he lifted his head so delicately and blinked so slowly, so sleepily, as he reached out to catch hold of Newt's cuff.
Newt crumbled, following the gentle tug on his arm as he gave up and climbed onto the bed, helping his sleepy friend to pull the duvet out from under him. He tucked Thomas in, stopping to help him lose the sweater, their arms back above Thomas's head and their faces so close their breaths mingled between them.
Newt scraped his willpower together to pull away, Thomas's eyes barely slits as he fought sleep. Newt's blood was racing, his face burning as his friend squirmed and wriggled to untangle himself from his belt.
He was settled and half asleep himself when the first unsettling dream began, Thomas's voice a pitiful, pale whine in the darkness. Newt reached over, his hand finding Thomas's messy hair, raven in the heavy darkness. He coiled his fingers, drawing his hand back slowly in a soothing motion, travelling softly to the ends before circling back to his scalp and starting over. Thomas quieted, and then fell silent again, the twisting motions stilling.
Newt was on the very edge of sleep once more when Thomas turned towards him, shifting close until their bodies were flush, his heat flooding Newt at the same time the rush of affection and want. He barely caught the mewl the action brought forth, suddenly aware how loud his breathing was, how hard each thud of his heart.
Thomas's fingers found one shoulder and his fingers clenched in the fabric, his cheek rubbing against Newt's chin as a sigh escaped him. Newt swallowed hard and shifted comfortably into the embrace, Thomas's proximity the sweetest torture he could imagine. Thomas shifted again, adjusting, and then he fell still as though he'd never moved at all, not so brave and bold in sleep but soft and cuddly and…
Something Newt felt the desperate desire to protect, to keep safe.
"Newt…" Thomas breathed, an almost, barely, just audible sound.
Newt hummed in return, falling asleep even as every nerve in his body was shocked and alive. Thomas's fingers curled and uncurled against his shoulder.
"Newt…"
"Here, Tommy. I'm here."
That seemed to satisfy him for he fell still and quiet once more. His lips brushed Newt's shoulder just as the blonde slid over the edge and into sleep.