-Sorry, okay, this is really short. But there's like, a bunch of other stories I desperately want to write, so i had to hurry up and finish this. Plus, I realized there wasn't much else I wanted to add to it. So here's just a little Thominho moment and the ending. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I look forward to writing more for you :)-

Minho was lost in some wonderful dream at the moment. There was the golden grass of the Glade around him, summer sunlight, and Newt was whispering sweetly in his ear. He could almost feel the blonde's shoulder leaning against his, almost catch the honeying scent that was his angel. All of that started to fade, suddenly, and he snatched desperately at it with his fingers. Dreams were all he had now, he needed them, he needed this... His mind clawed at the last bits of the dream, just before it was blotted out for good.

Grumbling under his breath as wakefulness claimed him, Minho peeled open his eyes. The room around him was darkened. Some of the lamps must've died out after a while. Shifting on the mattress, Minho winced as the wounds under his bandages pulled painfully. He couldn't really see anything, so he waited for his eyes to adjust. Shuck, what time was it anyway? He peered toward the door and noticed that no light seeped in through the crack at the bottom. It was definitely nighttime. Normally, he stuffed a blanket in that gap during colder months, but he had forgotten tonight. Luckily, the piled blankets of furs on top of him were warm enough. Releasing a tired exhale, he settled deeper into the covers to fall back asleep.

That was when he realized there was an arm around his waist and a warm body pressed up against him. Blinking, he glanced down at the mess of brown hair at his chest. A fond smile played over his lips. "Shank," he muttered, smoothing Thomas's hair affectionately. He had only spoken loud enough to make Thomas stir and nose farther into Minho's chest. Then his breathing deepened again. Minho's smiled widened.

He didn't know what he would do without Thomas. He had meant everything he'd said; Thomas had saved him. Minho was sure he never would've survived Newt's death without knowing that Thomas was there to support him. And later, when he'd found out that Thomas was in love with him, had BEEN in love with him for so long, he'd been floored. He couldn't imagine life in Haven without Thomas now.

He had a sudden urge to see Thomas's eyes and make sure that there weren't still any bad feelings about Newt. Thomas wasn't second-best to Minho. He was everything to Minho. He continued to play with Thomas's hair, running his fingers through it, until Thomas stirred again. Mumbling a mess of syllables, Thomas brought his head up from Minho's chest and rolled onto his back instead. Minho bit his lip over a smile. "Thomas," he tried, softly. "Sweetheart, wake up." He tugged gently at a piece of fawn-colored hair.

Muttering about it being too early for work, Thomas opened his eyes and blinked groggily. "Minho?" he asked, voice heavy and thick. His gaze found the Keeper beside him and he pushed his hair off his face. "Wha d'you want?"

"I just wanted to see you, I guess," Minho confessed. Thomas's sleepy coffee-brown eyes were holding him in a way that made him shiver.

"Oh. Slinthead." Thomas gave him a push in the shoulder. "Lemme sleep."

Minho chuckled. "Sorry," he murmured, touching his lips to Thomas's forehead. Thomas's arm tightened around his waist in reply. "So, what work am I missing out on tomorrow?"

"Still sitting in here, bored all day?" Thomas asked wryly.

"Matheus won't let me do anything."

Sidling closer in the bed, Thomas tucked his head beneath Minho's chin. "I gotta do the usual. Food and wood for winter. Some of the parents are gonna make me keep their kids busy too."

"Sounds like you're looking forward to it," Minho joked at Thomas's flat tone.

Thomas groaned and buried his face in Minho's chest. "It's gonna long and tiring, and I don't feel like doing it," he mumbled.

"At least you're ALLOWED to do it."

"Yay for me." Growling under his breath, Thomas pressed a kiss to Minho's chest. "I'd much rather stay in here, with you."

Minho grinned and smoothed a hand down Thomas's back, feeling the muscles flexing beneath the skin. "I bet you would," he murmured, as Thomas purred in his arms.

"Shuckface." Thomas shoved him again. Then he buried himself up against Minho once more, sighing at the body heat they shared. "Now, go back to sleep," he mumbled. "I'm tired."

"Okay." Minho stroked Thomas's hair softly as the brunette's eyelids drooped and his breathing began to slow. He was lucky, he thought, to have someone like this in his life, after everything that they'd been through. Bending down, he pressed his lips to Thomas's hair. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Kay," Thomas replied sleepily.

"I won't wake you up again," Minho went on, reluctant to end the conversation.

"Mmhm."

Thomas's breathing was getting deep and even against Minho's chest. He kept his lips against the top of Thomas's head and closed his eyes. "I love you," he whispered, muffled by Thomas's hair.

Thomas had completely fallen into sleep again by now. But he still smiled. He was safe, and Minho was safe, and they had everything they'd ever wanted, here in Haven.

Minho imagined that Newt would be happy for them.