(no subject)

[thebloodyglue]

It's a rare night where he finds himself alone. Kav and Al have gone grocery shopping; Kav had texted him to tell him that they were swinging by Beca's while they were out and that they'd be gone for a couple of hours. Newt's done laundry, he's cleaned the apartment, changed the sheets on the bed and now he finds himself sort of at a loss. He pulls out his phone.

Hey, Greenie. Want to hang out?

It's not like Tommy has a long way to come.

Comments

[shuck_you]

Thomas hadn't been moving much over in his apartment. The television had been on and Thomas had been trying to cook something that he'd burned and then trashed.

The text was a welcome distraction. It meant he could get out of his apartment and let it air out since it smelled like smoke now.

Sure. On my way.

Then, he was out of his apartment and padding down to Newt's place.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt's cooking. He doesn't manage it as effortlessly as Kavinsky always seems to, but he's definitely learning. He can manage plain, simple things. Most of what he's cooked so far tastes good. He's pretty pleased.

He's left the door ajar and, when he hears Tommy in the corridor, he glances over his shoulder.

"Door's open, Tommy," he calls.

[shuck_you]

"What if it wasn't me and some burglar just waltzed right in?" Thomas asked, pushing the door open and kicking it shut.

Thomas wasn't sure of the crime rate here but he also knew he hadn't been paying much attention either. His mind had been on his own issues, his own guilt to see if Darrow was a city crawling with criminals.

[thebloodyglue]

"I can hear you coming a mile off, shank," says Newt, smirking. He's got a beer open on the counter and he takes a sip of it. "You want something to drink, Tommy? I'm cooking you dinner. It's..." he looks at the pan. "Probably at least as okay as something Fry would have turned out."

[shuck_you]

"You can hear someone coming from a mile away, doesn't necessarily mean it's me," Thomas had to point out before leaning against the counter.

"No, I'm all good," he said, watching Newt push food around in the pan. "You sure that's actually food? Looks pretty...mushed."

It didn't look mushed but Thomas couldn't help but tease.

[thebloodyglue]

"You sound different, Tommy. I'd know you in the dark." Newt looks critcially at the contents of the pan and then reaches out with his free hand and slaps him with the back of his free hand. "Fine. You don't bloody get any."

[shuck_you]

"I sound different? How do I sound different?" He'd never listened to how he walked or moved before. He knew that he tried to keep quiet at all times, something left over from the Scorch but apparently he hadn't been succeeding.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt shrugs.

"It's the way you walk. Like you could hear me coming because of the bloody limp. Al's got a heavier footfall than any of you. Kavinsky doesn't always lift his feet enough."

[shuck_you]

"How do I walk?" Thomas asked, curious more than anything else. He wasn't that observant, couldn't really discern many people by how they moved. Some were easy, like Newt, but he was the rare one that Thomas could tell was nearby just by his gait and cadence of walking.

[thebloodyglue]

"You're light on your feet," says Newt, leaning back against the counter, taking a sip of his beer and regarding his friend with amusement. "And you always sound like you'd rather be running."

[shuck_you]

"That's because I would," Thomas joked, shrugging. "It's faster."

He knew he couldn't run everywhere and here, he wasn't really running from anything but he still liked to run. He still felt like he could change things if he ran.

"Nice detective work."

[thebloodyglue]

"You and Minho deserve each other," says Newt, rolling his eyes. "Here." He holds out a spoon to Thomas. "Keep moving that around in the pan while I pick up some of the Joe's shit so we've got someone to sit while we eat."

[shuck_you]

Thomas dutifully took the spoon and get stirring it, watching the concoction swish and swirl around in the pan.

"He tell you that he came by to see me when you were laid up in the hospital?" Thomas asked casually.

[thebloodyglue]

"He said he'd seen you," says Newt, picking up a pair of sneakers and putting them neatly against one wall. He drapes a hoodie over the back of the couch. "Said you told him where I was." A smile touches the corner of his mouth. "Said it didn't go well."

He doesn't have all the details, but he knows them both well enough to be able to fill in the gaps.

[shuck_you]

"That's one way to put it, yeah," Thomas said, nodding. "He didn't deserve to know that much at the time. He's lucky I didn't slam my door in his face."

The only reason he hadn't was that Kavinsky had been important to Newt. He'd meant something and he'd seen Newt talk about this guy with stars in his eyes. He'd stopped himself short of being cruel for that reason only.

[thebloodyglue]

"Well, thank you for not kicking him when he was down," says Newt, quietly, coming back up behind Thomas and reaching to take the spoon. "I appreciate it. And, for what it's worth, I don't think he's going to do anything that bloody stupid again."

[shuck_you]

"Only did it for you, not for him," Thomas said, shaking his head. "If it hadn't been for you, I would have tried to punch him again."

It probably wouldn't have landed and he probably would have gotten hurt but he would have liked to hope he would have gotten a shot or two of his own in.

[thebloodyglue]

"Tommy, you're my best friend and I'm in love with him and it would be really nice if, one day, I could get you in the same fucking room for five minutes without worrying that someone was about to get punched." He shakes his head. "But we'll work on it slowly, okay?"

[shuck_you]

"You need to calm down and stop scolding me," Thomas told him, shaking his head and frowning. "The first time I met him, he tried to take something private and then he punched me. The second time was after what he did. So, slim it, shank. I'm fine."

[thebloodyglue]

"Okay, okay," says Newt, nudging Thomas with his shoulder fondly. "Go sit down. I'll bring you food and you can tell me what's been going on with you."

[shuck_you]

"All right," Thomas said, wandering back out into the living room and flopping down on the couch. He stretched his legs out and tried not to think too vividly of the last time he'd been on a couch with someone about to join him.

He'd just end up blushing and stammering like a fool.

[thebloodyglue]

A moment later, Newt follows him with a tray bearing bowls of pasta, a plate of bread, soda and water. He sets it down on the low table and then takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch to Thomas, offering his friend a bowl before he reaches for his own.

"I think it'll taste okay," he says.

[shuck_you]

"Most things taste okay to me," Thomas said, shrugging and taking the bowl. After the Scorch, Thomas had learned not to take things, especially food, for granted. He remembered the gnawing ache of starvation and even food he didn't like, he ate.

"Thanks, shank," he said, nodding at Newt. "Sit down and quit waiting on me."

[thebloodyglue]

Newt's got to figure that him and Thomas feel much the same about food; you have to take what you're given, whether you like it or not. He's definitely developing preferences, but he's got to think that the memory of starving is never going to leave him. And it's something that people who've never felt it will never understand.

He sits cross-legged at his own end of the sofa, and takes a bite of his food. It's genuinely not bad.

"So what's been going on," he asks. "Anything new?"

[shuck_you]

"Not really," Thomas said, shrugging his shoulders. "Same as always."

That wasn't necessarily true but Thomas still wondered if he should be too open about certain things. He worried about ruining them if he spoke about them, exposed them to outside influences.

"Working a lot," he said. "Running. Trying to learn how to throw a punch."