Archive of Our Own

Thomas couldn’t deny that he really wanted to become one of Minho’s Runners, while he was undergoing general training and trying out work with each different group, but he would be lying if he said that there weren’t perks to being posted at the Glade for now.

The opportunity to sneak in some alone time with his new boyfriend, for example.

He was working in the kitchen today, even though he (and Frypan, if his strained patience was anything to go by) knew for sure that the kitchen would not end up being the right job for him.

“That doesn’t matter, Tommy”, Newt had told him, tone serious and an earnest expression on his face. Thomas had to suppress the urge to kiss him, to coax his smile back; he knew how passionate Newt was about this place, and how important it was to him that Thomas take the whole thing seriously. Not that Thomas wasn’t; he had, after all, seen for himself the positive impact that the Glade and the Homestead could have on vulnerable kids. Chuck was more than enough to have convinced Thomas of the importance of the work that Newt and the others did here.

Still, he found it difficult to resist Newt at the best of times, let alone when he was so animated, his dedication and passion for his work bleeding through into his voice and body language. The fire in his eyes, the determined set of his jaw, the way his firm tone sounded when he was corralling the kids, all captured Thomas and drew him in.

“Everyone has to go through the same process. That’s how it works, how we find the best fit for each person. It’s important that everyone who works here finds a role where they feel comfortable… where their strengths are valuable and new skills can be developed, to build up their confidence. That’s the whole point.”

Newt had obviously predicted Thomas’ imminent protest, because he took his hand and continued, more gently this time. “I know you want to be a Runner, Tommy. And honestly, I think you’d be well suited to it. So does Minho. But just think how much more effectively you’ll be able to do that once you have a full understanding of how this place works. Besides,” and Newt’s smile turned sly as his hand slid to Thomas’ hip, a very different kind of fire in his eyes now. “I can’t be playing favourites, now, can I? Gotta save that for when we’re alone.” Thomas’ breath hitched, his pulse hammering as his body made its feelings about that very clear.

Newt drew Thomas in by the hip and leaned in - Thomas closed his eyes, anticipating the kiss, but instead felt Newt’s warm breath against his skin as he murmured, voice low and dark. “So, be a good boy and do as I say, hm? Maybe there’ll be a reward in it for you later, if you do well.”

Newt trailed his mouth down Thomas’ neck, nipping as he went, and Thomas gave a soft moan, eyes still closed. As though that was the sign he had been waiting for, Newt was suddenly gone, stepping backwards out of reach as Thomas swatted at him, grumbling. For all his fake irritation, though, Thomas couldn’t help smiling, the warmth rising in his chest in response to Newt’s teasing and his delighted laughter.

“Good boy? What am I, a dog?” He reached for Newt, who happily let himself be pulled closer as Thomas threaded their fingers together.

Not content to concede entirely, though, Newt poked Thomas in the side as he retorted, “Hardly. Bark is far more useful than you are, Tommy. I don’t know why I keep you around, honestly.”

Now it was Thomas’ turn to tease. Tugging Newt into his body, he whispered, “Oh, I can think of certain rewards that make it worth your while…” before kissing him, hard and fierce.

He intended to back away again as soon as he felt Newt melt into it and return the kiss with equal fervour, but of course, as soon as that happened, Thomas was equally lost. He backed Newt up against his desk and swallowed down the broken gasp of his name that came in response, pressing their hips together.

Maybe now was the time to enact that fantasy he kept returning to… Newt’s desk was right there, and they were alone, after all… He began to bear Newt down, sliding the vest off his shoulders and moaning softly at the bite to his collarbone…

Suddenly, there were footsteps and voices in the corridor, and their moment came to a crashing halt. Thomas could hear Alby outside, talking to… shit, was that Gally? He and Newt scrambled up, panting and trying not to laugh as they fumbled with their clothes in an attempt to look more presentable… Or a little less like they had been minutes away from things getting out of hand on Newt’s desk, at least. (Or into hand, as the case may be.)

By the time Alby poked his head into Newt’s office to remind him about their upcoming meeting with Vince and Mary (Thomas knew there was a new group of Safe Haven kids who had signed up for sessions), the two of them looked slightly less dishevelled - although Alby still glanced between them suspiciously for a moment, eyes catching on Newt’s ruffled hair and still askew green vest, lingering on their presumably flushed faces.

He was seemingly placated, or at least distracted, though, by the way that Newt slipped seamlessly into Work Mode. As always, Thomas himself couldn’t help but be impressed and helplessly charmed by the absolute focus and enthusiasm with which Newt spoke about his job - even while he was feeling a certain degree of frustration about this whole situation.

Although Alby was apparently mollified, he remained resolutely in the doorway after their discussion ended, holding the door open and looking pointedly at Thomas. Resigned to having to take a raincheck on his alone time with Newt, Thomas sighed, gave Newt a soft kiss and obediently left the office. Alby gave him a reluctant smile as he left, rolling his eyes slightly and directing a comment at Newt that made him laugh; he clearly wasn’t too put out.

How could Thomas be expected to focus on his work, after that? It was no wonder, really, that he had added sugar instead of salt to one of the dishes that Frypan was preparing for lunch.

Fry was surprisingly good about the whole thing. He was patient; Thomas supposed that was a helpful trait when training inexperienced teenagers - one that was frequently tested, no doubt. Nevertheless, one of the first things that Thomas had learnt about Frypan, all those weeks ago, was that he was deeply dedicated to his job and very protective of his kitchen. It was therefore unsurprising that Fry soon began devising tasks for Thomas that would keep him away for extended periods of time.

To Thomas’ delight, following a rather boring couple of hours of dashing about fetching different supplies, serving food and running between Fry and Winston with messages (“Well, you did say you wanted to be a Runner, Tommy, after all”, he could almost hear Newt saying teasingly), he was finally given a task that made him smile.

“Here, Greenie, I’ve made a list of the fresh herbs that I need to finish these dishes off. You know where the herb garden is?” Hearing Thomas’ affirmative, Fry smiled and handed him the list, clapping him on the shoulder. “Great! All the gardening stuff is in the shed out back - Zart or Newt will be out there, they can help you. Thanks, Thomas!” And with a smile thrown back over his shoulder, he retreated to his kitchen and closed the door firmly behind him.

Thomas couldn’t help a rueful smile; Fry was a really great guy, but his kitchen was precious to him, and he’d clearly decided that Thomas was a threat to it.

A sudden noise from behind him startled Thomas into moving again, heading out towards the Glade; he didn’t want to be caught slacking off, given how hard everyone here worked. As he reached the back door, he chanced a glance behind him and saw Gally disappearing into his workshop. He felt a little guilty about it, but he was quietly relieved that he’d avoided a conversation with Gally; Newt and Minho both swore that he was a true friend of theirs, but Thomas was new, and Gally wasn’t exactly the most friendly person here.

Thomas had seen him interacting with some of the others - joking around with Frypan, throwing quips back at Minho as they shoved each other playfully, listening to Newt intently, following Alby’s instructions, respect clear in his eyes… He had even seen Gally hide a smile behind a grumpy complaint, when something Thomas said or did made Newt’s eyes soften, his smile brighten. He could see that Gally, like the rest of them, cared about this place and these people - considered them his family. Watching him with his friends, Thomas had seen the warmth that shone through his gruff exterior.

What had really convinced him, though, was the way Gally was with Chuck. Thomas knew all too well how shy and withdrawn Chuck had been when he first found his way to the Safe Haven, and subsequently to Thomas’ family; nervousness, even fear, radiated from him like heat, and he swung unsettlingly between extended silences and anxious babbling.

Starting at the Glade had grounded him, somehow; Thomas had watched him settle inside his own skin, had listened patiently as Chuck came home, suddenly overflowing with news and stories and a desire to engage. To open up. And he remembered all too well the night that Chuck had come home after his first shift with Gally; glowing with pride, all because Gally had told him that he’d done a great job, and had patiently spent his lunchtime teaching Chuck to whittle.

The little figurines they’d made together still stood proudly on Chuck’s desk. “My parents”, Chuck had explained, tone soft, something fragile in his voice. “Wherever they are, I think they’d want to be watching over me, to make sure I’m okay.”

“I bet they would”, Thomas had replied, hating himself a little for the lie. The bitter taste of it on his tongue was preferable to the risk of shattering the vulnerable look in Chuck’s eyes, though. If Chuck needed to believe, then Thomas wouldn’t be the one to rip that from his hands.

Neither would Gally, apparently.

There was hope, then, Thomas was sure of it, for a friendship to be built between them, as he’d done with the others here. Still. That didn’t need to happen today . Not when Thomas had effectively been banned from the kitchen, after another mishap.

Not when he knew Newt was outside, working in the Glade, probably alone. Yes, Gally could definitely wait.

When he stepped outside, Thomas had to shield his eyes against the sudden brightness. For a moment, everything was lost to the white glare of sunlight as his eyes adjusted, before the world resolved itself into distinct shapes and colours once more. He took a moment to just breathe the garden in: the scent of sun-baked earth, the riot of colours in the flowerbeds, the array of gardening tools that Zart’s last group had left behind, the ever-present birdsong, the clean, crisp smell of the herb garden, the darting shapes of insects and butterflies...

Thomas loved it out here, enjoyed the thrum of life surrounding him, the relative calm after the bustling chaos of the Homestead. Zart had finished his sessions for the day, so the usual hubbub of kids working had settled, and the space felt… grounding, somehow. Even if the Hosepipe Incident, as Chuck so kindly referred to it, had proved that he wasn’t a natural gardener, Thomas still found a sense of peace every time he came out here.

It didn’t hurt that he associated the garden so strongly with Newt, and with the contented smile that lit up Newt’s face whenever he returned from the Glade.

He couldn’t help but see the garden as special, when it made Newt so happy, even if he himself definitely wasn’t quite so comfortable gardening as Newt was. A brief sting of guilt reminded him that Zart might not have forgiven him yet for what had happened to his cacti (not all of them! Some of them had survived his overzealous attentions).

His remorse was cut short, however, by a flash of movement near the shed, and he watched avidly as Newt raised a hand to his temple, wiping his forehead and leaving a smudge of dirt behind. Thomas felt a warmth unrelated to the summer sun bubble up in him at the sight of Newt so utterly focused, smiling in satisfaction at the tomatoes he was picking. Everything else - the flowers, the scents, the birdsong - dropped away as he looked at Newt, gilded by sunlight, pink-cheeked and a little sweaty, blond hair in disarray and a soft smile on his face.

“Better not let Minho see your precious vest cast aside like that”, he called, smiling to himself as Newt jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and gesturing at Newt’s Glade vest, draped over the edge of the basket at his feet, once Newt turned towards him.

“Hey, I was very careful with it, folded it and everything. He has no room to complain.” They exchanged smiles and Newt rolled his eyes. “Ok, yeah, not that he wouldn’t find a way. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, so we’ll just keep this between us, yeah, Tommy? It’s too hot for extra layers right now.”

By the time Newt had finished speaking, Thomas had arrived at his side, and he swept an appreciative gaze over Newt, agreeing readily. Newt rolled his eyes again, but Thomas didn’t miss the fact that the flush on his cheeks deepened slightly, and he felt the rush of affection that was becoming increasingly common where Newt was concerned.

“How has your morning with Fry been? He’s great, right?” Fondness threaded through Newt’s tone, and Thomas was once more glad for this place and these people, who had welcomed him so warmly into their group. Even Gally, kind of.

His hesitation brought a frown to Newt’s face, and Thomas gave in to the instinct to reach up and stroke his fingers over the spot, soothing it away as it was replaced with a quiet little smile and a soft exhalation as Newt leaned into the touch.

“Fry is great”, Thomas reassured him, “he’s a really nice guy, and funny . You didn’t tell me how funny he is.”

He could read the pleased expression on Newt’s face, the way his body relaxed at Thomas’ words; as much as it was important to Newt that Thomas worked hard and valued the Glade, it mattered to him that his friends here accepted Thomas - that the people he loved got along.

So Thomas felt a little guilty for his next words. Not guilty enough to swallow them down, though; if he did that, Newt would still hear the story from someone else, and the teasing would be so much worse.

“I like Fry. I’m just, uh, not so sure that he thinks I’m great.” Newt’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze flicked over Thomas’ sheepish expression before he gave an exaggerated sigh. He didn’t make any effort to hide the slight smile playing around the edge of his mouth, or the amused affection in his expression, though.

“What did you do this time, Tommy?”

“There was a slight mishap with one of the dishes… I don’t know for sure, because I happened to have a couple of tasks to do outside of the kitchen, but it’s possible that Frypan had to start it again from scratch.” Newt just waited, eyebrow raised, and Thomas sighed and rushed out the explanation. “Okay, so. Imayhaveaccidentallyusedsugarinsteadofsalt.”

Newt was outright laughing, now, and he pulled Thomas into a lazy hug, burying his face in Thomas’ shoulder while he laughed at him. It was difficult to maintain even feigned offence, given how much Thomas wanted to smile at Newt’s delight.

Drawing back, Newt appraised Thomas, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Honestly, Tommy, it’s almost as though you’re deliberately making mistakes so that we have no choice but to make you a Runner.”

“Hey! It was only a small mistake, and only with one dish! I helped them with two others before that, incident free!”

“And the Hosepipe Incident, Tommy?”

“You distracted me, you know you did!”

“I did no such thing.” Still, Newt’s smirk made it clear that he knew exactly what he’d done.

“I won’t even dignify that blatant lie with a response. But that one doesn’t count, you were deliberately teasing me, so it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“And Zart’s beloved cacti?”

“Okay, that one was on me”, Thomas admitted sheepishly. “But Zart understood! He’s forgiven me! … Mostly. I think.”

“What about”, and Newt left such an unnecessarily dramatic pause that Thomas could almost see the theatrical flourish that accompanied his next words. “The Laundry Incident?”

Thomas didn’t even have to fake his look of shock at that one. “What? Chuck promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone about that! I can’t believe he told you!”

“Oh, Thomas.” Newt clicked his tongue reprovingly. “You should know by now that I always find out the truth in the end.” He was obviously trying not to laugh, and when Thomas gave in, Newt abandoned all pretence, the laughter spilling out between them. Thomas took Newt’s hand and let his happiness shine through in his expression, watching Newt’s eyes soften in response. It was inevitable, really, when they both leaned in for a kiss.

A new argument - one that Newt would be hard-pressed to counter - struck him suddenly, and he broke the kiss so he could lay out the pièce de résistance in his list of evidence.

“It went really well when I worked with the Builders, though! Not a single incident!”

Newt looked a little put out. “You just interrupted our kiss for that? Clearly I need to up my game!”

“But, the Builders, Newt! With Gally! He was pleased with my work, he said so! Well, he said it was “fine”. But that’s pretty good, coming from Gally! See?”

Newt stared at him for a moment, then put his head in his hands, mumbling his reply through his fingers. “Now I know that I’ve lost it. You’re actually talking about Gally right now. God. Way to shred a guy’s confidence and ruin the mood in one fell swoop, Tommy.”

Thomas tugged Newt’s hands away from his face impatiently, expecting the smile that was hiding behind them, and pulled him closer, giving him a hurried kiss before returning to his Very Important Point.

“See? I’ve done well in some of the roles, I just had a couple of minor mishaps, that’s all. Just bad luck, really. Otherwise, I’ve been an exemplary trainee. And when I become a Runner, you’ll see just how well I can do when I can really use my skills and experience to help the Glade. Ok? Admit it, Newt, I’ve done fine, and you’re thrilled that I’m here, and you’re gonna miss my talented ass once I’m out with the Runners most days.” He pouted at Newt’s laughter and threw his final card on the table, so to speak. “Admit it, and you get more kisses. And maybe a couple of other rewards , too.”

Newt’s laughter trailed off, though it was still plain to see in his expression, and he rolled his eyes, giving an exaggerated sigh. “Sure, Tommy. You’ve done fine, and I’m thrilled that you’re here.” He recited this in a flat voice, but there was distinctly more feeling in his voice when he continued. “And of course I’ll miss your talented ass once you’re out with the Runners most days.” He snuck a hand around to Thomas’ ass as if for emphasis, and pulled him closer, so that his next words were spoken against Thomas’ mouth. “Now, can we get to back to the kissing part, interruption-free?”

Thomas didn’t bother answering with words, simply surging forward to kiss Newt, pressing him firmly back against the side of the shed. Newt hummed approvingly, the sound lost somewhere between them, snaking his arms around Thomas’ waist to guide him closer.

For long moments, they remained wrapped up in each other. The kiss intensified, their hips rolling together as they panted into each other’s mouths, hands mapping each other’s bodies. Thomas wanted nothing more than to find somewhere more private to continue this. It was such a thrill, to feel this pulse of desire, of need , for another person. For Newt. It was kind of a foreign experience for him, but definitely one that he was enjoying.

He found himself kissing and biting his way down Newt’s neck, felt it when Newt threw his head back to give Thomas more access to his skin, and his body thrummed with the urge to continue down the length of Newt’s body, leaving marks in his wake, before sinking to his knees to give Newt the attention he deserved.

Swimming up through the fog of desire was hard, but Thomas summoned the presence of mind from somewhere to try to speak, to suggest that they slip away to continue this properly. Newt made a noise of protest when Thomas pulled back, though, so he couldn’t help but surrender to the pull between them and lean in again.

Suddenly, a door banged open and hurried footsteps sounded behind him. Thomas was barely curious, though, caught up as he was in the taste and feel of Newt.

“What the shuck is taking so long, I needed that mint yesterday , Thomas! Where are - oh.”

And, well, that was enough to break their kiss. Turning towards the impatient voice, Thomas felt a blush steal across his face as his eyes found Frypan, standing by the herb garden with his hands on his hips.

He felt a moment of anxiety, wondering if this was too much even for the usually cheerful Fry, but a second later, his friend gave a snort of amusement. Thomas glanced up to see a remarkably calm Newt smiling at Frypan mischievously, apparently unruffled by his wild hair and the marks already visible on his pale skin. An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between the two of them, then Fry rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at them.

“Clearly nothing is going to pry you two away from each other today. Yeah, that’s right, I heard about this morning from Alby. You’re not as subtle as you think you are, you know. I guess I’ll just get the herbs myself, shall I? Thanks for your help, Thomas!”

He was smiling as he spoke, though, so Thomas relaxed and shifted to lean against the shed beside Newt, tangling their hands together, and exchanging soft smiles. He settled himself more comfortably against the sun-warmed wood and watched Fry carefully collect the plants he needed before heading back inside, throwing them a wry smile over his shoulder as he disappeared.

For the moment, though, Thomas was more than content to just be here, breathing together, feeling the soothing press of Newt’s body against his own. If the light in Newt’s eyes was any indication, he felt the same way.

Eventually, though, Newt shook himself out of the peaceful haze they had fallen into and stepped away from the shed, pulling Thomas along with him.

“Come on, we’d better get to the Gathering and decide what we’re going to do with you, Tommy.”

Thomas was suddenly alert and buzzing with energy. “That’s today? I thought I had another week to go, at least?”

“That was before you threatened Fry’s menu, Tommy. We decided that perhaps we’d better find you a better fit, sooner rather than later.” There was a teasing edge to Newt’s voice, and he squeezed Thomas’ hand affectionately as they walked back towards the Homestead, so Thomas decided to forgo defending himself - this time, at least - and settled for simply rolling his eyes, a habit he had definitely picked up from his boyfriend.

Newt huffed a laugh at his calm response, lifting Thomas’ hand to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to it. Something light and warm fluttered in Thomas’ chest and he could feel the wide smile break over his face in response. He leaned up to kiss Newt, stealing that last moment of time alone before they -

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you’d got to today. What grief have you been causing, hm?”

Right. Of course. Thomas released a long-suffering sigh and dropped Newt’s hand, knowing from experience that he had been temporarily bumped into second place in Newt’s affections.

He glared half-heartedly at the cat that had distracted Newt, crossing his arms as Newt knelt down to stroke him, helpless as he always was in the face of those big eyes and the contented purring. It was possible, though, that his display of irritation and impatience was slightly undermined by what he did next.

Pre-empting Newt’s actions, Thomas stepped into the shed by the back door to retrieve Newt’s “secret” stash of cat supplies, pulling out the bag of treats that he had been reliably informed were the Beast’s favourites.  

Several minutes later, Newt tore himself somewhat reluctantly away from the increasingly frequent visitor (“If you didn’t keep feeding him and petting him, he wouldn’t keep coming back, Newt.” “I’m wounded that you’re implying he only comes here for food, Tommy. You know we have a bond, come on. Anyway, I’m not going to stop looking out for him, so you’re just going to have to accept it and start making friends with him yourself.”) and they finally made it inside, pausing momentarily in the corridor to let a group of kids pass by with one of Gally’s Builders.

There was a nervous energy running through Thomas, despite the fact that he was almost entirely sure that he would come out of this meeting officially designated as a Runner. Newt ushered Thomas into the Gathering Room, and he drew in a deep breath as they got settled, glancing somewhat apprehensively around the group: Alby, Minho, Frypan, Winston, Zart, Gally, and of course Newt.

The meeting didn’t take as long as Thomas had feared. He had worried that perhaps his little mistakes with some of the Keepers would be a real obstacle to him being chosen as a Runner, but there didn’t seem to be any grudges held. Even Zart seemed to have forgiven him for the cacti debacle, which was a relief. Thomas mostly had to sit through a fair bit of good-natured teasing from the others, which he took in his stride because it rather obviously came with a decent dose of fondness.

Once the other roles had been soundly dismissed as options for him (“I’m not letting him within twenty feet of my kitchen ever again”, announced Frypan, “no offence, Thomas.”), everyone turned to Minho, who took his time loudly evaluating Thomas’ potential before declaring with a (rather obviously deliberate) dramatic flair that he believed Thomas was well-suited to being a Runner and would be a good addition to their team. Thomas sighed in relief, willing to let Minho’s dramatics go on this occasion.

The Keepers went around the table, casting their votes, and Thomas was sure he wasn’t the only one who held his breath, watching uncertainly, when it was Gally’s turn.

To his not-quite-surprise, though, Gally merely cast a pointed look at the clock on the wall and grunted. “Just make him a Runner. Get him out of here so that both he and Newt can actually get some work done instead of sneaking off to make out all the time.”

Thomas tensed, prepared to jump to Newt’s defence. He felt the burn of anger in his stomach at the audacity of Gally implying that Newt was anything other than dedicated to this place, and opened his mouth to call Gally out for it.

Newt placed a placating hand on Thomas’ arm, though, and Thomas was surprised to find him smiling indulgently at Gally, who merely huffed in response and folded his arms defensively.

“Don’t worry, Tommy. That was just Gally-speak for “Thomas would make a good Runner, and he obviously wants to be one, so let’s get on with it.” ’’

Thomas remained unconvinced, particularly given that Gally’s only response was a slight scoff... but he could also see the faintest colour on Gally’s cheeks, and noticed that Gally suddenly didn’t seem inclined to make eye contact.

“He basically just gave you - and us, by the way - his blessing, in his own roundabout, Gally way. So, thanks, Gal, that’s ever so sweet of you. And I agree. Tommy will make a great Runner. Even if I will miss “sneaking off to make out” with him. Guess I’ll just have to save that for home.” He tipped an exaggerated wink Gally’s way, still smiling.  

Newt’s voice was teasing, but his smile was obviously genuine, and when Gally huffed and muttered “Whatever. Just make it official, already, I have work to get on with”, Thomas was sure that Gally knew that.

Newt laughed. “Alright. Thomas, starting from tomorrow, you’re a Runner.”

He squeezed Thomas’ hand under the table, obviously knowing how happy this news would make him. “Good that, Alby, Minho?” The two of them nodded their assent, and Newt lifted his cup of tea in a salute. “Brilliant. I’ll drink to that. Right, let’s call it a day, shall we? I hear some of you”, with a wry smile at Gally, “have work to do, and I reckon Minho will need to chat to Tommy for a bit about tomorrow. Not too long, alright, Min? I have my own plans for him, and I’m not inclined to wait for long.”

There were a couple of laughs and jokes muttered in response to that, but they all went along with it, anyway, and once everyone else had shuffled out, Thomas was left with Newt and an amused Minho. Newt took his leave, with one last warning to Minho about not keeping Thomas for long, pulled Thomas in for a searing kiss and then left, leaving him blinking and dazed.

Suddenly, being a Runner didn’t seem nearly so important as finishing this meeting quickly so he could get home to Newt and these plans of his.