Author's note ~ Hope you enjoy!
As the man began to say his goodnights, Newt slipped into the woods and started towards Adrian's little house to wait for him.
Now that he actually understood what he wanted, he was going to do his level best to get it.
Adrian was not quite stumbling drunk, though he wasn't too far off. He managed the now worn path through the trees to his house, tripping over an occasional rock or branch but keeping his balance well enough to stop himself from actually going down. He paused at the edge of the clearing and, finding himself swaying a little, leaned against a sturdy tree to try and steady himself. He squinted at his little cottage in the dark; he'd closed the door before he went to the bonfire, hadn't he? And he knew there was no way he'd been foolish enough to leave the candles burning, though he could clearly see the yellow flickering light through the open doorway. He squared his shoulders and walked as steadily as he could toward the building, ready to confront his unexpected company.
He was almost at the door when Newt stepped out onto the threshold, haloed by the light inside.
"Kid? Why're you here, 'stead of tearin' it up at the bonfire?"
"I was looking for you." Newt said softly, turning towards him. Warning bells rang dimly in the back of Adrian's alcohol muddled mind. He opened his hands in a placating gesture and slowly took a small step back.
"Not that I don't 'preciate your company, but I'm just going to crash for the next twelve hours. Wh'ever you want to talk about, it can wait 'til tomorrow when my brain's back up and running."
Newt took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm his jumping stomach – and bolster his courage – before stepping past the man and moving to stand directly in front of him. He felt miserably awkward looking up into those glazed green eyes; he'd never done (or tried to do this) anything like this before, had never had the desire to. After that afternoon in the meadow with Adrian he'd begun to think about what it might be like to actually be with someone else, if both were willing. Just a stray thought at first, the realization that he wanted to try that with Addy had been compounded by his unexpected flash of jealousy, seeing the man chumming around with Alby. Newt decided to move before he lost his nerve; while he was afraid his lack of practical knowledge was going to muck things up, he wasn't going to let apprehension stop him.
"It's not your brain I'm after tonight, Addy. I'm not here to talk."
Adrian tried to take another step back and found himself flat up against the rough, unyielding exterior wall.
Nowhere to run, he thought hollowly as the boy moved into his personal space.
"Look kid, not that it's not flatt'ring, but I don't think – "
"Stop calling me that!" Newt said hotly, grabbing a fistful of Adrian's shirt and yanking him closer, his eyes flashing obstinately. "I'm not a bloody kid, Addy, so don't you shuckin' treat me like one! I stopped being a bloody kid the day they took my memories and sent me up in that ruddy box!"
"You're angry, and mixed up." Adrian tried in a reasonable voice. "T's not me you want, kid. You think you do 'cause I helped you, but really I'm just handy. And I'm way too old for you. Why don't you – "
Newt jerked on Adrian's shirt angrily, forcing him downward, and pressed his mouth firmly to the man's to shut him up, his temper momentarily overriding his hesitance. He found himself fumbling when their lips met, not knowing what to do or how exactly to proceed.
Their noses knocked together, and he was leaning at a weird angle that made the kiss uncomfortable to maintain. Determined to try, he closed the last few inches of space between them and rested his body up against the man, trying to find a better position. He ran his free hand down Adrian's chest, circling it around to the small of his back for lack of a better place to put it, accidentally sliding it under Adrian's shirt in the process. Newt broke for air, distracted by the feel of smooth skin and contrasting lines of scar tissue under his palm. Still pressed up against the man, Newt turned his head when he felt Adrian's hand close over the back of his neck, afraid he was going to be forced to stop. In one sure swift move, Adrian tilted Newt's head back and pulled him into a sloppy, blistering kiss.
Newt gasped, the knee jerk reaction parting his lips, and he felt Adrian's tongue invade his mouth. It was strange but oddly nice, and he shyly tried to copy the actions. The man's other arm banded around his waist, bringing the boy more firmly against him. Newt whimpered a little at the friction, and felt a heat spreading in his gut when he felt a hard lump pressing into his stomach as Adrian's body responded to the contact.
Feeling the reaction, a little giddy from the enthusiastic response, he let go of Adrian's shirt and threw his arm around the man's neck, wiggling a little impatiently. Adrian broke the kiss this time, instinctively grinding up against the boy as his excitement grew. Newt dropped his head to Adrian's shoulder, his breath ghosting across the damp skin and making the man shiver in response. Nervous, but resolute, he unwound his arm from Adrian's neck and slid it in between them, reaching for Adrian's belt buckle.
"Addy."
His name, said with a lusty sigh, hit Adrian like a bullet. His hands shifted to Newt's shoulders without warning and roughly peeled the boy off of him. It felt like the sudden heat of the moment had burned the majority of the alcohol right out of his system.
"Stop. You have to stop. We're not doing this, Newt."
"Why?" he demanded, trying to worm his way out of the hard grip and back to his intended mission. "Why do we have to stop? It's just...sex." Newt winced a little at the word, but pushed through. "I want this. I know you want this too." He said, pointing at the obvious bulge in the man's pants.
"You're wrong."
"I'm not!" Newt insisted, going still and locking eyes with the man. They'd shifted away from the light spilling through the open door and, shadowed by the overhang of the roof, Adrian's eyes were an undecipherable black. "You...you responded. You kissed me back." He almost choked on the words, trying not to keep his tone even. "You pulled me closer."
"It was an automatic response. I should've pushed you away right from the beginning, but I've been drinking and forgot myself for a minute. Kind of hard not to, when you plaster yourself up against a guy and dive right in. Still, I came to my senses, and better late than never." The man kept his words cool and concise, leaving no doubts as to his thoughts on the matter. "You can get with anyone in the glade you want, as long as they're willing. I'm not. I am not going there with you, kid. You'll have to find someone else to play with."
Newt wrenched free and stepped away, turning his back on the man. His shoulders trembled with upset frustration, and his face burned from embarrassment.
"This is your bloody fault. It is." Newt growled, the feared rejection hitting him like a spear to the guts. "If you hadn't...if I didn't see...if you..."
"I asked you to find someone else to help you. You were adamant, it had to be me. I gave you a hand. It was nothing personal." Adrian stated coldly, cruelly, trying to hammer the point home. Speaking so harshly to the boy made him feel sick to his stomach, but he was going to damn well make sure the message got across. "You suddenly want to experiment? Fine, but it won't be on me. I prefer lovers closer to my own age, thanks, someone with some experience under their belt. You're not my type. We can be friends, but it doesn't go any further than that."
"You don't want me." Newt whispered the words, dismayed, humiliated, crushed.
"I don't want you."
Unable to take it any longer, Newt tore off for the trees, running blindly. He tripped and fell hard, hardly a dozen feet into the brush. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, his heart pounding, his stomach rolling greasily as he floundered to get as far away from Adrian as he possibly could.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose to try and relieve some of the pressure; it felt like his head was going to explode. Shame, self loathing and disgust at himself churned into a noxious mix. When he heard the crash of the boy going down he started toward the woods instinctively, intending to make sure Newt was alright. Well, physically alright, Adrian thought bitterly. I shattered him emotionally tonight; I know I wanted a break from him, but I never wanted to break him down. I doubt he'll even speak to me again after this. He heard the tell-tale skitter of the boy getting up and dashing off and halted his forward movement, starting into the darkness of the undergrowth and hating himself. He noticed a tiny red light in his peripheral vision, slowly slithering down a tall tree.
A beetle blade, getting a better angle.
Anger and outrage boiling towards violence at the sight, Adrian leaned on a sapling with his left hand and eased his knife from the sheath with his right, watching the light from the corner of his eyes until it was closer to the ground. In one furious move, he pivoted and threw the knife at the obnoxious metal creature.
Adrian wasn't a crack shot. Oh his aim was fairly decent, but he never expected to actually hit the swift little monster. It was a fluke, or fate, or sheer dumb luck that guided the projectile directly to the beetle blade, the razor sharp six inch blade piercing its metal hide and effectively pinning it to the tree. The machine let out a high pitched squealing shriek that sounded like something between a mechanical screech and the screaming of a rat in a trap.
Always ready to take advantage of an unforeseen opportunity, Adrian ran over and grabbed the flailing creature by the base of the head, the thin metal plates of its body curving under his crushing grip. He yanked the knife out of the tree and turned the beast so that it was pointed directly at his face, still making that ear splitting keening, and snarled right into the little glass lens at the end of its 'face'.
"Enjoying the show?"
The machine went silent instantly; he could hear the shutters and the gears readjusting as it focused on his face.
"Think about this." He spat furiously. "Right now I'm doing what you sent me here to do, working within the system you made so as to not botch your 'little experiment'. You also know why I'm doing this, and why I haven't opened my mouth and screwed up all your precious data. Yet." He sneered at the camera. "If you start breathing down my neck all it takes is one slip of the lip and everything you've built, everything you've worked towards for years will be rendered completely useless. So help me God, I'll say screw it and send it all down in flames before I play any more of your sick little games, or dance like a puppet for your fucking entertainment. Consider that."
He grabbed the beetle blade by the body with his other hand and twisted in opposite directions until he heard a sharp crack and saw the light blink off, the little machine going limp in his grasp. He carried his kill into the house, slamming the door behind him to vent some of his bubbling vexation. Sitting down at the table and using his knife as a makeshift screwdriver, he disassembled the machine to see if there was any useful components he could scavenge from its carcass. As his body finished sobering up he occupied himself with the dissection and tried not to think about the accusation – and the pain – in Newt's voice during their argument.
Adrian decided that enough was enough, and took the whole next day for himself. He snuck into the kitchen as soon as he woke up from a fitful sleep, pilfering a supply of snacks without feeling even a hint of guilt and slinking back to his house unseen. Putting aside the sorted piles of mechanical parts that he'd stripped from the beetle blade, he pulled out a bag of short peeled sections of branch, each about as long as his thumb and a little bigger in diameter. Wanting nothing to do with glade life, wanting to escape for a while, he began carving a specific series of shapes. It was mindless, soothing work.
Using his knife to get the basic shapes and one of the tiny razor like claws from the beetle blade for finer details, he began lining figures up in a row on his table. By lunch time he'd made four lines of eight; a complete set. He dug out a pouch of sand and used it to smooth out the rough edges, separating them into two groups and dropping them into two small pots of solution he'd prepared while he carved. Having worked with his girls on their wardrobe he still had a number of ingredients used to create dye, and had settled on walnut husks for black and chokecherries for a rich reddish color.
He unrolled a left over chunk of leather while his pieces soaked, marking a square in the center and, using a loose piece of paper from his book to ensure straight lines, drew out an eight by eight grid. He heated the tip of his knife over a candle and used it to score the grid into the leather, cutting the excess hide away and leaving a border of an inch or so all the way around. After fishing his carvings out and setting them on the window sill to dry he sewed loops into the corners and sides of the leather mat, shaved and shaped thinner twigs to fit into the loops and hold the whole thing flat, and cleaned up the mass of shavings and debris that had piled up while he worked.
He was wondering just how long his blissful silence would last when, as if on cue, there was a rapid hammering knock on the door. He answered it, accepting his alone time was at an end.
Minho stood waiting, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face.
"Afternoon Minho. Did you need something?" Adrian asked drily, though he could already hazard a guess as to the topic from the glower the keeper was giving him.
"What happened between you and Newt?" The boy demanded, his jaw clenched in challenge. Adrian rolled his eyes and stepped back, waving Minho into the house. The boy stalked in, planting himself in the middle of the room and facing the man with his shoulders squared and his hands on his hips.
"What happened between you and Newt?" He repeated, jutting his chin out and daring the man to make a move.
"He's in a poor mood, I take it?"
Minho snorted.
"He's been pissy all day; sulky, moody, cranky. Mutterin' under his breath. He was all but glued to you; and now you're hidin' in here and he's throwing dark looks at anyone who says your name. It don't exactly take a genius to put two and two together."
"Yeah, he's not terribly happy with me at the moment. We had a bit of a...disagreement last night."
"So fix it." Minho ordered bluntly. "When he's miserable, he makes us miserable. And...and he's my friend." he added lowly, "I don't take it kindly when someone screws with one of my friends."
"He's my friend too." Adrian sighed, flopping down on the couch, rubbing his face in exasperation. "Sometimes friends have a difference of opinion. Sometimes they fight. I'm sorry it's bothering him, but...I've gotta stand my ground on this."
"What were you arguing about?"
"That's really none of your damn business, but feel free to ask him." Adrian said curtly, refusing to incriminate Newt and irritated with the runner's attempt to forcibly invade his privacy.
"I will." Minho shot back flippantly, turning to leave. He stopped for a moment before he disappeared out the door, sending a threatening look over his shoulder.
"I don't care if you're whipping the med jacks into shape. I don't care if you've taught the others how to make better buildings. I don't even care that you make great grub. If you mess with my friends, if you hurt Newt...I'll drag you into the shuckin' maze and let the grievers chop you into stew meat."
On that lovely image Adrian was, once again, left alone.
Adrian worked tirelessly for the next couple of days, putting in long hours polishing plans, discussing ideas and working out potential kinks in projects. He told himself that he was more productive without Newt following him around like a lost puppy. He told himself that it was a relief to finally have a couple of hours a day free of the persistent boy. He reminded himself how exhausting it was, being the object of constant attention.
He made preparations with his girls, schemed with Alby and Frypan on improvements, worked with Jeff and Clint. He smiled and acted like nothing was wrong.
He told himself it was better this way.
He was puttering around the med hit, checking and reorganizing the supplies as he waited for the two medjacks to return from foraging for herbs when a faint knock sounded on the office door.
"Yeah, it's open." He called, his head in the narrow space under the cement sink, checking for leaks.
"...Hey Addy."
Adrian tried to stand up in a hurry and bashed his head on the underside of the sturdy cement counter in the process. Cursing viciously and seeing stars, he gingerly poked at the lump on his skull with the tips of his fingers, curling his lip in disgust when they came back smeared with red.
"Well, I've always been told I've got a hard head." He grumbled, irritated by the instant, throbbing headache.
"You really bloody do." Newt answered with a half laugh, forgetting the tension between them for a split second. Adrian shot him a wry smile and he looked away at once, suddenly uncomfortable. "Uhh...Alby sent me over; he needs to know if you want to use the builders for the kitchen upgrades, or if you're good with a couple of sloppers. Said he had to know now, so he can make arrangements."
"Sloppers are fine." The man said casually, hoping to put the boy at ease. "It's not specialized work, I just need a couple extra pairs of hands."
"Right. I'll let him know." Newt said shortly, turning on his heel and moving to beat a hasty retreat. The man called out before he could leave.
"Newt..."
The boy froze in his tracks. Adrian cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry." He said gently. "I'm sorry that I can't give you what you want, sorry that I hurt you. I know you're angry with me right now. I just want you to know...we CAN still be friends. It's your call; I'll respect your decision, either way."
Newt didn't respond, giving a jerky little shrug and hunching his shoulders miserably as he walked away.
He didn't look back.
Adrian let out an aggrieved huff of breath, wishing he could figure out how to resolve the discord that had risen between them. He made a snap decision to talk to Alby in private and encourage him to invite Newt to the next 'girl's night'; maybe having access to a more appropriate outlet would scratch the boy's itch and give them a chance to repair their easy friendship.
Doubtful, he thought, rubbing his head, but it's worth a shot.
The gladers gathered in the now familiar clearing under the cold clear light of the full moon, eager to finally find out what the professed challenge was. For once the girls didn't keep them waiting, materializing out of the forest moments after the fire had been lit. Dressed in new costumes, the girls were in simple black corset style tops and incredibly short shorts, showing off a tantalizing amount of skin. Tied around their waists were bands of coarse twine, holding a dozen or more scraps of fabric in place to form a kind of floaty, colorful skirt. Each also wore new brightly painted masks and vibrant cloth strips threaded through their elaborately styled hair. They overall effect made them looked exotic birds – beautiful and predatory.
Althea was outfitted in unrelieved black, from her long skirt with the high, high slit showing off a mouthwatering expanse of leg, to the low cut long sleeve blouse that clung like a second skin and highlighted her generous curves. Her masked face was partially veiled by some kind of fine black netting, which was fastened to a fantastical hat perched in her highly piled curls. The only hint of color on her were red, red lips that stood out starkly against her pale face. The contrast was stunning, and stole the breath of more than one glader watching their arrival.
Newt goggled at the sight; he'd had no clue what to expect when Alby had told him there was a 'special meeting' tonight. No one else looked terribly surprised to see the newcomers, though, so he whispered to the boy at his side.
"Who are they?"
"The woman's Althea. The girls are her daughters – I think." Minho supplied, which only raised more questions to Newt's mind.
"Where the bloody hell did they come from?"
"Don't know, didn't ask, don't care?" Minho responded, staring at the girls with an avaricious look in his eyes. "They just showed up one night. And thank God they did!"
"Don't care?!" Newt demanded. "They could be dangerous – you have no idea who they are, where they're from...what if this is all some sick trick! Or even a trap!"
Minho just laughed at the outburst, dismissing Newt's suspicions without a second thought.
"Believe me, they're not here to hurt us. You'll see for yourself, they're really quite...friendly."
With that he let out an appreciative wolf whistle; grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at the girls. Newt grimaced, sure the shameless actions would anger or upset their unusual guests and spark a confrontation. The girls just laughed, though, striking poses and blowing kisses that invited others to voice their approval as well. The boys burst into hoots and whistles as the girls visibly soaked up the attention. Althea stepped in front of the mob of boys as the din eventually quieted down.
"Tonight is special night, special...game. My rebenok, you see, they grow bored of the simple most easy, they understand so quickly and always are hungry to learn more. They ask, always they ask, when can we know more? I tell them, tonight, three of boys will...learn more with them, this night. And how to choose? All are good, strong boy, worthy boy. So we will do contest, yes? To see which three have the nerve, the prochnost' to take next step in learning with my girls. Rebenok, idti."
The girls swept into a synchronized curtsy, bending low and shooting the gladers a decidedly wicked look. Without warning they turned and ran into the woods, making the boys cry out in dismay and confusion at their sudden departure.
"I will tell you of the rules." Althea stated calmly, cutting off their outburst. "Each girl wears special belt, made for tonight only, belt holding many color...flag? Flag. Also, hidden in woods, are more flag. You are to find, to gather many as you can, from woods or girls – before the moon falls behind the tall stone walls. Three who get most flag are chosen as winners. But beware;" She added softly, "for my children are crafty and may...distract you from your goal, even take back the cloth you steal from them. Woods are dangerous too, many ways for boy to find trouble in the trees after dark. Only brave, smart boy can take most flag and earn the prize. Now go! Show me you are worthy!"
Most of the gladers scrambled to a run and scattered into the wind, whooping as they plowed their way through the bushes with all the grace and finesse of young bears. Newt planted his feet and refused to follow, facing the woman and ignoring Minho's urgent tugging on his arm.
"You are new boy." She said, without inflection. Newt stood his ground, studying her suspiciously. Something about her was ever so vaguely familiar.
"What the shuck is all this? Who are you people? What do you want from us?"
"I am Althea. Others will introduce girls to you. I ask nothing of you."
"How did you get up here?"
She just looked through him coldly, refusing to answer the hostile query. Minho tried to move him, to no avail.
"Who sent you? Why should we play your weird little game?"
She narrowed her eyes, waving him off dismissively.
"You ask too many questions. Do not play, if you have fear. I care not. I have no time for rude little boy pretending to be big man. Go. Ask your friend to teach you manners before you insult me again."
"Newt, come on!" Minho hissed, yanking him away and dragging him out of the clearing, embarrassment on his face at Newt's severe lack of tact. She turned her back on the retreating boys – and found herself face to face with Alby.
"Yes? What question does the leader have?" She asked, forcing her lips to curve.
Alby thought for a minute, studying her before tilting his head.
"What's wrong?"
Startled by the unexpected query, he arched a brow and donned a confident look.
"Wrong? Why would the leader think something is wrong?"
"You're unhappy, upset about something." Alby murmured softly, coaxingly. "I can see it. Tell me what it is; maybe I can help. I want to help."
Althea looked at the earnest young man and smiled sadly.
"You are kind boy, to ask. But is...difficult place, tricky. Some things...cannot be helped."
Minho pulled Newt into the woods and out of sight of the flickering fire before he laid into his friend.
"Do you always go in swingin' the first time you meet someone?! What the shuck was that about?!"
Newt bristled at the accusatory tone.
"Me? All I did was ask a couple of simple bloody questions! Which she couldn't even be bothered to answer! Why has no one else thought to ask, huh? Why am I the only one thinking there's something off about all this?"
"You're jumping at shadows." Minho threw up his hands, frustrated. "What do you think, they're grievers in dresses? Listen, slinthead, you're gonna ruin the only really good thing we have? And right when we've just gotten it?!"
"What good thing?" Newt shot back, going nose to nose with his keeper. "What world do you live in that four strangers just appearing out of nowhere is a good thing?"
Minho let out a garbled sound of wordless exasperation and scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Look, they're not a threat. I can vouch for that. They've visited us four shuckin' times in the last month with no awful consequences. If you don't want to trust that, fine, whatever, have it your way. But either help me find those stupid flags or stay here and wallow in distrust; I'm not going to miss out on a chance at the prize because you want to waste time on useless suspicions."
"I'll help you Min." Newt sniffed, falling in behind the keeper as he sprinted off into the trees. "But you can bet I'm going to bloody rub it in if these...visitors...don't turn out to be as wonderful as you think they are."
"You'll be eating your words before sunrise." Minho promised, scanning the dark for hints, "Just wait and see."
Author's note ~ See you next chapter!
~Ruby