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Newt is always in control. Everyone in his group of friends knows that. The only person who’s more of a control-freak than Newt is Alby, who’s downright anal about keeping order in the house. As Minho points out frequently, being Alby and living in a huge-ass-house with a group of 12 other students wasn’t exactly the best idea. Alby hasn't had peace of mind since the new guys had moved in. And he's not even home to see them make a mess of things. Newt almost suspects that Gally has snapped him pictures, because Alby is even more controlling than usual. Newt gets at least 3 messages a day reminding him to make sure everything is fine.
Everyone thought that getting a girl in would be a good idea. Maybe she’d have a sense of order to match Newt and Alby’s. She didn’t. Teresa is probably the messiest person in the house, only challenged by Thomas, who was the other newcomer. If Alby didn't have a buzz-cut already he will have torn out his hair in desperation ten minutes after he comes home, but luckily he has Newt to support him. Newt will make sure it is clean when Alby returns. Newt is an advocate of order. Newt’s role in this house is to keep everyone from killing each other (mainly keeping Alby from killing everyone, because Newt loves his best friend, but he does have a bit of a temper, and if Newt wasn’t here to keep the bugger under control, the house would probably be a lot bloodier).
So Newt is going to have a serious talk with Thomas. Newt can do this. Newt is going to fix this. Newt has no problem telling Thomas to pick his crap up from the floor and do his dishes instead of leaving it around for everyone else to deal with. He can do this and Thomas is a pretty good guy, so he will probably listen and they will be done with it. If Newt is a little bit nervous that’s just because he doesn’t particularly enjoy having to get bossy with people. He’d enjoy it much more if Thomas were going to get bossy with him. He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. How did he develop a crush so quickly? Thomas just moved in two weeks ago, it shouldn’t have happened this fast. It’s ridiculous, Newt is completely in touch with his own emotions, so blushing like a bloody child whenever Thomas flash him that lop-sided grin is just out of the picture. And he doesn’t. No he doesn’t. He seriously doesn’t, stop implying that he does, Newt doesn’t blush. Seriously. He blinks a couple of times and steels himself with a deep breath. “You can do this.” He mutters to himself and jumps slightly when Frypan walks past and claps him on the shoulder.
“Get the Greenie to move his dirty dishes, or he ain't eating tonight.” He says, and Newt nods. This isn’t him schooling Thomas. This is him trying to help Thomas to fit in. Because apparently everyone else needs more than just those amazing brown eyes. Buggers. They don’t appreciate Thomas’ eyes, and though that should be a good thing because Newt doesn’t exactly want anyone to appreciate Thomas the same way he does, it’s also sort of annoying. Newt doesn’t mind the mess that much. Gally and Teresa are at least as messy as Thomas, but no one says anything to them. Maybe because Teresa is a very pretty girl and Gally is a very aggressive bloke. Newt doesn’t know, and Newt doesn’t care. He cares that everyone else needs to get off Thomas’ back, because really-
“Uh, Newt buddy, why are you standing in front of my room?” Thomas asks, and Newt definitely doesn’t almost choke when he turns his head and is met by an ungodly and unfair sight. Someone needs to tell Thomas to put some clothes on and maybe dry himself off completely because if Alby slips in the water that’s dripping down his chest and onto the floor he won’t survive to see tomorrow. Also it does things to Newt that he doesn’t appreciate, and his eyes travel ever so slightly downwards before he realizes what he’s doing (and how obviously it is done) and quickly returns his gaze to Thomas’ eyes instead. He also realizes that he still hasn’t answered Thomas’ question and that he’s being a huge nerd. Usually Thomas is the idiot. He’s very stupid for someone so clever.
“I… was just about to knock.” He says, knowing that his voice is out of pitch and hoping that Thomas is too slow to catch on. He can be a little clueless at times. He has yet to realize that Newt has a big pathetic crush on him – or so Newt hopes. If he knows Newt honestly has no idea what to do. Except maybe jump off the roof.
Thomas shrugs, seemingly not noticing of the weirdness that is going on. “Sure, come in, man.” He says, and his voice definitely doesn’t send shivers down Newt’s spine.
When the door swings open the full weight of Newt’s predicament hits him square in the face. The room looks like it’s been ransacked. And bombed. And then filled with the laundry of the entire house after two weeks without a washing machine. He blinks a couple of times and his fingers twitch. His hands are itching. He doesn’t exactly know if he wants to clean the entire place or cling to Thomas while he licks every single one of those drops off his- No. He blinks a couple of times, trying to banish the mental image. He can’t just stand here perving on the new guy. He’s a man on a mission. Newt has always been known to get stuff done when he’s needed, and since Alby is coming home tomorrow he has to save Thomas’ life. Thomas is way too pretty to be strangled.
The bugger in question has yet to put on clothes. Instead he has picked up a Rubik’s Cube and is fiddling with it. Newt will repeat this until the end of time: for someone so smart, Thomas can be really bloody clueless. “Uh, Tommy?”
He regrets saying anything the moment Thomas looks up. He could have enjoyed those amazing abs for just a second if he hadn’t. He should have thought of that before. Instead those eyes meet him. The lightest, warmest shade of brown Newt has ever seen. It’s torture. What unlucky sod apart from him gets a roommate that he develops a crush on? This is only supposed to happen in movies. “Yeah?” the annoying part is that the voice goes perfectly with his eyes. Thomas’ voice is warm and rich and it makes Newt want to close his eyes and stick his fingers in his ears in order to maintain his carefully constructed shield of determination.
“How about putting on some bloody clothes? We need to talk, and I don’t think doing it while you’re undressed is going to work.” He points out, crossing his arms over his chest because where the hell else would he put them if not on broad shoulders or a slim waist or that pert little a- No.
You can do this. You’re a reasonable person. Thomas has never given you the impression that he wants to shag your brains out the way you want him to. Emotions don’t control you. You control them. Come on, Newt.
“Why? Am I in trouble?” Thomas looks down his own body, and Newt’s glance follows. What an idiot. Am I in trouble? He sounds like a kid who’s afraid his father will scold him. Newt wants to hug him but also stare at his body forever. His gaze trails a little lower, and he’ll deny it if anyone ever asks, though it will probably be to no avail. He is so lost. Thomas definitely works out. He’s on the track-team. Newt knows this because they spent Thomas’ first night here just talking and drinking beer. Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. His chest is firm and his shoulders are broad, his abs are toned and the towel is riding very low on those hips. Newt averts his eyes before his traitorous mouth can blurt out something ridiculous like ‘Because if you don’t I might ravish you and that would put a bit of a bloody strain on our relationship, don’t you think you annoying, clueless bugger?’
His body is starting to betray him at the thought, so he decides to just get on with it. “Tommy, you know that Alby is coming home tomorrow.” Thomas had started standing up, but now the idiot’s sitting down again, and it’s getting frustrating because Newt really needs him to put some clothes on. “Oh put something on for Christ’s sake.” He grunts, turning around as he hears Thomas shuffling around. When he turns back around Thomas is wearing one of those fucking Henley-shirts that do nothing to cover up the fact that his body is amazing, and Newt wants to slam his head against the nearest surface. He would burn Thomas’s wardrobe if he didn’t think the bugger would use it as an excuse to walk around in nothing but his shorts all the time. He swallows and pushes on. “And he hates mess. If you think I run a tight ship, Alby will scare the crap out of you, okay? You need to tidy up a bit. Maybe… you know, remove some of all this?” he suggests, bending down and picking up...
…
…
A girl’s top. His heart sinks in his chest. It feels like it has decided to go all the way through his body and keep going through the floor. “Uh. Sorry. That’s…” he starts, and his voice is totally betraying him. Thomas seems to pick up on it, and Newt bites his lip hard. Brown eyes flicker to it, and he regrets that move instantly. This would not be a good time for Thomas to discover his crush.
“I’m sorry, yeah, she’s probably missing this. I didn’t know, I’ll clean up, I promise. Maybe you should-“ Thomas starts, and Newt nods quickly, grateful that Thomas gives him a chance to leave before he can ask whose it is. He isn’t shocked that Thomas brought a girl home. He’s a popular bloke, of course the girls would like him. Newt just hasn’t seen any girls here, so he sort of hoped… anyway, it doesn’t matter. Newt always knew that this crush wasn’t going to work out. It’s just hopeless pining, and it’s totally fine. So he waves awkwardly and leaves, feeling Thomas’ stare burn into his back on the way out. When Thomas calls for him Newt pretends like he doesn’t hear him.
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If you think Newt spends the rest of the day in his room, staring at Thomas’ Facebook profile, sulking and pining, then you’re completely correct. Of course no one will ever get to know this. He also may have stalked all the girls on Thomas’ friend-list to see if any of them has a top like the one he found on Thomas’ floor, but that’s only because he’s curious of course. This isn’t self-torture or more pining, he’d just like to know what kind of guy Thomas is when it comes to girls. Does he bring home girls he doesn’t know, or does he prefer something more meaningful? He doesn’t find anything, so he assumes it’s the last one, and he can’t really decide if that makes him feel better or not. Either way it’s not up to him to judge his friend.
He has always known that they are just friend. So maybe he’s a friend who appreciates the way that looking into Thomas’ eyes can make your heart flutter, and maybe he’s a friend who appreciates that Thomas has the most clean-cut cheekbones on the planet. Maybe he’s a friend who appreciates that Thomas is just genuinely so, so nice, maybe he’s a friend who caught himself looking at Thomas’ butt a time or two more than he strictly had to (those other times were accidents, honestly). Maybe he’s a friend who appreciates the way Thomas’ Adam’s apple bops when he drinks, which, by the way, he always does leaning back his head so said Adam’s apple is displayed as though he wants Newt to look. Maybe he’s a friend who appreciates the way Thomas’ leg-muscles works when he runs, and maybe he’s a friend who’s completely and utterly transfixed by Thomas’ lower lip and the way he tends to bite it when he’s thinking. Maybe he’s though about stomping on Thomas’ stupid broad-rimmed glasses a gazillion times because it’s close to impossible to study when Tommy is sitting across from him wearing those while nibbling on his bloody pens with his stupid oral fixation. Newt groans and puts his forehead on the laptop’s keyboard.
It sucks that Thomas isn’t into him like that, but Newt has known all along that it isn’t like that. He cares for Thomas a lot more than two weeks should even merit, but living so closely together obviously brings two people close very quickly. Newt is the one who told Thomas all the rules in Alby’s absence, he even helped him move, and they had some good talks. They’re both the types to stay up late, so many a night has been spent in the kitchen in each other’s company when Newt has been studying and Thomas comes out of his room to raid the fridge. Usually he just stays. Newt groans loudly again, hoping he hasn’t fucked up, and he almost doesn’t hear the tentative knock on the door. A couple of seconds pass and there’s another knock. He figures it must be important, so he straightens up and take a deep breath. “Come in.” he calls and spins around on his chair.
Teresa opens the door and smiles at him cautiously. “Hi. Tom says you think he’s messy. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be cleaning up a bit as well so Alby doesn’t get an aneurism when he returns. Fry tells me he’s can get a bit…” she whistles slightly and points a finger to her temple, spinning it slightly to indicate Alby’s craze when it comes to cleaning.
Newt nods, thankful that he doesn’t have to have this conversation with her as well.
“Uhm,” Teresa continues, eyeing him confusedly, “Why does it look like you head-butted your keyboard?” she asks, walking over and flopping down on his bed where she picks up – oh shit. That’s why Thomas called for him.
“It’s not mine.” He says quickly, and Teresa rolls her eyes.
“Uh no, it’s not, I can tell. One, you don’t have the tits to fill it out, two, it’s mine.”
That takes a few seconds to sink in. He was in the process of feeling the imprints of the laptop’s keyboard on his forehead when he realizes what that implies. “It’s… yours?” he hadn’t even considered that the top might be Teresa’s. Then again, only Thomas would be stupid enough to screw his roommate. Apart from Newt himself apparently. It’s lovely, really.
Teresa looks a bit offended now, and Newt winces when the cutting tone that she uses with Gally so often enters her voice, “Yes, mine. Is that a problem?”
He shakes his head quickly and holds up his hands. “Sorry, sorry, it’s none of my bloody business what you and Tommy get up to, I just didn’t know it was like that between the two of you.” He defends himself, hating the thought of Teresa with his Thomas with every fibre of his being. If it had been a stranger at least he could hate her silently. He can’t hate Teresa. She’s a nice girl, pretty too, and he can’t blame Thomas for wanting to get in her pants. Everyone in the house seems to want that (maybe except for Gally who hates her, Alby who has yet to meet her and will hate her messiness, and Newt who’s gayer than a gay rainbow-colored unicorn.)
Teresa’s brows furrow. “Like that? Wait, you think…” then she succumbs to a fit of laughter. Newt can’t help but feel a bit offended. What the bloody fucking hell is so funny? He’s just about to ask when Teresa straightens from where she’s collapsed on his bed and dries her eyes, still panting for breath. “Oh Newt. Oh boy. This is too great. I have to tell Chuck later, this is amazing. No you dummy, he just helped me move. God, I’ve known him since we still crapped our diapers, I wouldn’t – euw. Just no. No. Never.” She says, and Newt can’t help but feel relieved.
“So,” he starts, clearing his throat, “You guys have never…?” he trails off, knowing that the question is invasive and sort of insensitive.
Teresa rolls her eyes and snorts unattractively (and Newt feels his heart swell with fondness of the girl because honestly, not having to compete with her for Thomas feels a lot greater than it has any right to). “Christ no. Never. I had to teach the dork to kiss and I seriously hope he got some practice in since then he was rubbish. Just the thought… I really doubt he knows what he’s doing.” She snorts, shivering and making a gagging sound.
Newt feels his smile morph into a smile instead of the grim expression it’s been caught in all day, and he doesn’t even bother hiding his relief right now. Which is a stupid-ass move, because Teresa is just as smart as Thomas but not as clueless.
Her eyebrows shoot upwards and she cocks her head, staring at him in a way that tells him that she’s just on the verge of figuring him out. “What were you doing?” she asks, standing up, and Newt immediately slams his laptop shut so forcefully he cringes about, worrying that he might have ruined it.
He shakes his head violently in a way that’s probably not very discrete. “Nothing, just homework, nothing at all.”
“Like hell you were.” She snorts, starting to wrestle him to get to the computer, and Newt feels himself panicking, mentally slapping himself for not having a password on his laptop.
“Okay okay, don’t, I was… I was looking at porn!” he shrieks, panicked because Teresa is Thomas’ friend above anyone else’s and he’s scared shitless she’ll tell him.
She pauses and looks at him curiously. “What kind of porn? I’ve always wondered what you’re into. I can never really figure out if you’re kinky or completely vanilla.” She says, looking at him in a way that tells him that she won’t leave off before he gives her some kind of answer.
He wrings his brain, trying to come up with something, anything, because honestly he’s too panicked to think clearly. So he blurts out the first thing that enters his mind, hoping that that will keep her from trying to snoop more. “Bondage. Love it. Love bondage. Love love love it. Bloody love it.” He babbles, and Teresa looks impressed. He feels himself relaxing just a bit when she moves away a bit. “Just you know. Bondage and spanking. It’s so great. Very hot. Firm asses are the best.” He keeps going, can’t stop himself, and he’s panicking about not being able to stop talking because what if she tells Thomas this and Thomas thinks he’s a weirdo. He claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself, knowing that he probably looks like the lovechild of a tomato and a beet in the face.
And then it happens. Teresa grabs his computer with a victorious squeal and opens it as she flops down on the bed. Her face goes slack for a couple of seconds as she stares at what Newt knows is a picture of Thomas looking over his shoulder, dressed in his running shorts and a tank-top. His ass is in the centre of the picture. Newt has spent hours and hours looking at that exact picture and feeling like a bloody creep. Then she starts smiling, and it’s terrifying. When her eyes meet his they are filled with mischief, and Newt groans loudly and plants his face solidly on the desk. “Spanking, huh? Firm asses? I knew it. I knew it! I was certain you were checking him out! Fry noticed as well. Actually I think the only one who knows nothing is Thomas because he’s so fucking dumb.” She says, and a slow sense of dread is taking over Newt’s entire body. Teresa keeps musing, undisturbed by the pained whimpers that leave him now and then, “Maybe Gally hasn’t figured it out either, but the dick doesn’t know anything about love, pretty sure he wasn’t hugged enough as a child.”
Newt lets out a small wail and turns his head, looking at her with a crushed expression. “Teresa, please don’t tell him. I need him to not know. I don’t know what he’ll say if he finds out, I don’t want him to hate me. Please don’t tell him, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll clean your bloody room for the next year. Just don’t tell the bugger.”
She looks surprised, cocking her head and looks at the picture for another couple of seconds. “I wasn’t going to tell him, but I’m not passing up the chance to have my own cleaning slave. Will you be doing my laundry too?”
Newt snorts with disgust. She sends him a warning glance and he feels himself deflate. “Fine. I’m not really into bondage and spanking by the way.”
Teresa cheerfully hands him his laptop and smirks at him. “Sure you’re not, Newtie.” She snickers, obviously not believing him, and Newt only manages to resist the urge to roll his eyes because he knows that she’s got him now. She waves happily and leaves the room, calling for Frypan. Newt googles living options in the area while muttering glumly to himself. The roof still seems like a great idea.
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And the roof is exactly where he finds himself several hours later because Teresa asked him if he wanted to get a drink with her and some of the others and though she didn’t seem threatening Newt still wants to be on her good side. So here he is, sipping some foul drink Gally mixed that tastes like piss but is doing a great job of getting him drunk. No wonder Gally didn’t get that bartending job he applied for, he’s doing a piss-poor job at it. Newt has been staring into his glass gloomily for the last ten minutes, not saying a word, when someone sits down next to him.
“Why did you look for apartments today after I left?” Teresa asks, and Newt is about to deny it when she holds up a hand. “I looked at your browser history, I wanted to know how much time you spend perving on my best friend on a daily basis. It’s a lot.” She points out, looking equally smug and worried. The worried part is hopefully about him moving and not about the Thomas thing. He shrugs because he honestly doesn’t know. It’s just that thinking today that Thomas and her might have hooked up made him wonder how he’d react if Thomas was to get a girlfriend once. He puts his cheek on his knees and sighs. “I don’t bloody know, okay? I was just wondering if there were other options. I mean, I know you guys just transferred, but he’s bound to start dating sooner or later.” He mutters, and if he’s staring longingly at Thomas while saying it, at least he’s talking low enough that only Teresa hears.
She snorts and shakes her head. “I’ll do my fucking cleaning myself.” She mutters under her breath and stands up and marches over to Thomas. Newt’s entire being fills with dread. No. No, no, no, Teresa please don’t.
Thomas stands up, and Newt quickly sizes the distance between himself and the edge of the roof up, just to see if he can throw himself over it before Thomas sits down – he can’t, so instead of trying Newt just downs his drink and puts the plastic-cup down next to him, bracing himself for Thomas letting him down nicely. For all his worries about Thomas hating him, Newt knows that his friend is a good guy who would never hold the blonde’s emotions against him. Thomas is way too good a guy for that which is honestly part of the problem.
“Teresa says you’re thinking of moving.” Thomas says, and Newt relaxes a little bit. Maybe she hasn’t told on him anyway. “Is it because we’re so messy? I can talk to her. I don’t want you to move, Newt, you’re one of my best friends. I don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you are, and if it’s because you want me to put on more clothes when I’m home I can do that as well.” He assures Newt, and the English-man can feel his heart break just a bit more. Thomas is comforting him. Thomas is honestly such a good friend, and here he’s been moping around all day because he’s not going to get laid. He rubs his forehead and shakes his head.
“Nah Tommy, you couldn’t chase me away from here even if you wanted to.” Newt lies easily, which is a major lie, ‘cause if Thomas asked him to leave he’s pretty certain he would just to please him. He curses the night sky for not being bright enough. He can’t drown in Thomas’ eyes when there’s no sun to reflect the warm amber.
Thomas smiles softly, that kind, patient smile, and he leans a little closer. “I’m glad. Because Teresa told me that you’d really miss me if you left.” He says, and if he wasn’t sitting so close Newt would probably curse Teresa, but Thomas is leaning ever closer and Newt can smell sweet liquor on his breath (next time Newt wants to get drunk he’ll get Frypan to mix his drinks instead of Gally, he’s obviously a lot better at it) and his heart is so close to bursting out of his chest.
“Are you going to make me do all the work myself?” Thomas asks, his eyes playful and his voice so, so soft that when Newt closes the last bit of distance between them he all but melts into the other guy. And it’s everything he dreamed it would be. It’s soft lips and an underlying musky smell, it’s cool air and warm skin, it’s getting to kiss the most amazing person he’s ever known under the stars. Maybe he should be angry with Teresa for telling, or with Chuck for jumping up somewhere behind them and clapping excitedly, or with Frypan for whooping loudly. He definitely should be angry with Gally for bitching about them needing to get a room, but from the sounds of it Minho is right now slapping him on the back of his head, so there is no annoyance. He can’t bring himself to care the least bit about their friends, he just keeps his eyes shut, and when a questioning tongue begs entrance to his mouth there is no hesitation. If that has to do with his ridiculous crush, with all of Thomas’ amazing qualities and looks, or if it has to do with the way Thomas is holding him so, so tightly he doesn’t know, and he can’t bring himself to bloody care.
When they finally break away from each other Teresa is making gagging sounds and both of them are out of breath. Thomas smiles at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly and Newt knows that those stupid dimples are showing. He wants to look, but he doesn’t want to pull far enough away to look at him, so instead he raises a hand and grace the one on the right side softly. “So, wanna go back to yours?” Thomas asks, and Newt rolls his eyes and groans.
“Way to ruin a moment, Tommy.” He snorts, standing up, which sends Teresa into a fit of laughter.
“Seems like Tom got some practising in.” she remarks, and the first two seconds Newt doesn’t grasp what the hell the girl’s talking about, but then he looks down and pulls frantically at his shirt to cover the embarrassing semi he’s sporting. Thomas just looks really proud of himself. Ah yes. This is where I’ve chosen to lay my affections. He thinks to himself, but when Thomas takes his hoodie off and ties it around Newt’s hips (now dressed in just a pair of very tight jeans and that stupid Henley!) he can’t bring himself to feel anything but the blooming warmth that’s rapidly spreading in his chest. At least the semi is covered up a bit now, and when Thomas takes his hand and drags him down through the opening in the roof he doesn’t protest in the slightest, just flips off their ridiculous friends and lets the other guy lead the way.
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It takes a long time to reach the door to Newt’s bedroom. They stop several times to make out and mutter nonsense at each other, most of it being “I can’t bloody believe it.” on Newt’s part and “Fuck, you’re so hot.” from Thomas’.
When they reach the door there’s a couple of handcuffs hanging on the doorknob.
“Eeerh.” Newt says, because he’s really smart and verbally capable. Thomas clears his throat next to him. They exchange a look and when Thomas grabs the handcuffs and puts them in his pocket with a tiny smirk Newt is pretty sure he’s going to faint because there bloody hell isn’t any blood going to his brain right now.