Work Text:
The living room was warm and cosy, engulfing Newt with pleasant feeling of contentment and relaxation. He sat on the couch with laptop on the armrest, humming thoughtfully while reading through the text and ticking what felt wrong or gritty. He heard Thomas in the kitchen singing along with a radio “A little taste” and chuckled at the lyrics he repeated in there while cooking.
“Don't stop, I haven't had enough. You're mine, 'til the sun comes up. I can't have just one.”
It took him about 5 more minutes before he emerged from the kitchen with a deep sigh, rubbing his palms over his sides to get rid of water before he sat behind Newt, propping his chin on his shoulder.
“Well, hello there, little Songbird,” Newt cooed at him fondly and Thomas nuzzled his neck, kissing just below his ear.
“Hello, love,” he whispered to him teasingly, because he knew very well how Newt disliked being pet named, Newt could hear it in his voice. “How busy are you?”
“Moderately,” the editor smirked, his hands hovering above the keyboard hesitantly. “Why?”
“Thought maybe you would look at a short bit I wrote when you have time?”
Newt froze at that, an excitement exploding in his chest like fireworks, and he turned around abruptly, seizing Thomas in a hungry stare:
“Are you starting a new book?!”
Thomas hadn’t really written anything since the first book, at least not something for his writer’s career – all his excellent skills were focused on a columnist job lately, writing for newspaper his daily bits of life. Newt loved it to death, but a possibility for another book made him thrilled to no end.
“Yeah, sort of wanted to start something,” Thomas smiled sheepishly, an adorable expression Newt couldn’t get enough of. They both got comfortable in each other’s company, relaxed and happy, familiar how the other ticked and what was the best way to reach consensus, so Newt didn’t really see much of this unsure expression lately. There was no reason for them, everything flowed perfectly and fitted like the right pieces of puzzle, creating an amazing mosaic of experiences they stumbled through the time they spent together (of course not everything was so ideal all the time, but Newt clung to the happy moments, the ones that he wanted to relish, not regret).
Two and half a year together. Sometimes Newt had a hard time to grasp it, the reality that actually bounded them together like this, living together. Newt wasn’t that unhappy to let his flat go, even though Mrs. Harris seemed very saddened by the fact he was leaving (and didn’t spare him of a story about her nephew’s boyfriend who reminded her of Newt, because he was very sweet and educated, and worked as a manager somewhere and always brought her flowers when they came over to her place, and that Newt is definitely the type as well, always so caring, and his boyfriend is very sweet as well – Newt wasn’t even surprised how she knew about Thomas, those wall had ears and the ears had another set of ears – and they look so great together). But Thomas’ place was bigger and more convenient and Thomas kept on nagging him about moving in with him for about half a year that finally, finally Newt succumbed to his insistence and agreed. It wasn’t really that new after all, he spent majority of his free time in here before, so the permanent solution only meant he had all his stuff here and didn’t need to make a mental note to get it from his flat when he got there (it got kind of ridiculous over time, he was at his own place maybe once, maximally twice a week). Thomas teased him with “welcome home” for about a week after moving in, and an obnoxiously loud and wet kiss every time Newt arrived – or was leaving for that matter.
He kept on doing that even now, kissing Newt every time he saw him leaving or arriving, but he stopped being over board with it and tuned it down to sweetness that was just enough. They fell into a pleasant rhythm, both busy with their own work and if any of them needed help, the other could provide it just fine. They spent Newt’s restless night talking until either of them finally nodded off, unable to stay up any longer.
Newt’s sleep problems diminished a lot during the time he knew Thomas. He grew accustomed to sleeping with him in one bed, cocooned in his warmth, being cradled in his arms the whole night. They automatically gravitated towards each other during the sleep anyway – at times when they quarreled and couldn’t talk to each other without shouting, they went to sleep separately at different hour, starting with turned back to each other, but ended intertwined anyway, or Newt found Thomas hugging him from behind like always when he woke up. Maybe also thank to that they never stayed mad at each other for long.
Newt bounced on the couch like a happy child when Thomas reached for a manuscript he conveniently hid under the couch (clever, that’s for sure) and handed it to him.
“That’s amazing, man, I can’t wait!” the blond opened the binding eagerly and Thomas smiled at him softly, standing up again and rounded the couch, sitting behind the blond once more, circling his waist gently and kissing his nape.
There were times he felt unsure about most of the things passing his life. Nothing stayed constant, everything kept on moving, too fast, too chaotic and he couldn’t catch up with his life, no matter how hard he tried.
There was help, but once someone offered their hand, he took the whole arm, pulling them with him, spiraling down.
In the midst of devastation a beacon shone its way brightly. He felt drawn to the light from the first moment, its warmth and strength. His world brightened and everything suddenly had sense again, a purpose and a goal. The light gave him courage, but it also awakened an impatience and insecurity from his actions. Was it alright? Was he enough? We he worth the attention?
There was a big gap in a text and under it a short paragraph shone.
Am I enough? Are you happy? Is this alright?
Newt wanted to turn around and ask, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, but Thomas was sitting right behind him, stopping any movement. Suddenly a chain appeared in front of Newt’s eyes and it rang softly with two rings at its end, clinging together.
“Am I enough for you?” he heard Thomas whispering to his ear in a low, rumbly voice. “Enough for wanting to spend the rest of your life together with me?”
“Oh my god,” Newt groaned, his whole body tingling. “Oh my god.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off the rings, swinging in front of his eyes neatly. They were silver and perfectly round with some sort of carving on them, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was without reaching for them and examining.
“I really, really want you to be mine,” Thomas whispered again, kissing Newt’s ear gently. “And if you also want me to be yours, I-,”
“You bloody bastard,” Newt breathed out, snatching the rings abruptly and wriggling his way out of the embrace, turning around fully to see Thomas’ startled face. “What do you bloody think?”
A sudden shock on the writer’s face morphed immediately into a wide grin, a cheeky one that Newt sometimes wanted to wipe off his face with sandpaper.
“I think you are dying to say yes,” Thomas said confidently, reaching for Newt’s neck, caressing his thumbs over the blonde’s jaw, but Newt felt the slight tremors that went through his body. “That you want to.”
“Oh yeah?” Newt challenged him anyway, even though his body felt like a violin string.
“Oh yeah.”
“Well aren’t you bloody clever,” the blond shoved him half-heartedly and Thomas chuckled, his hands seizing Newt’s face between them.
“Tell me,” he ordered him. It wasn’t a request, Newt was aware. He rolled his eyes and Thomas touched his lips gently.
“Tell me,” he repeated, this time softer and Newt nodded, as much as he could with the confining hold Thomas had on him.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Yes.”
He wasn’t surprised by the hungry kiss that followed, completely bleaching his mind.
***
A coffee mug landed on his table unexpected and Newt raised his head towards Teresa with raised eyebrows.
“You look like you need it,” she shrugged. “Dozing off all this time.”
“Thanks,” he croaked. His throat felt sore. He blamed Thomas (of course, who else, it was him who didn’t let him sleep during the whole night and scream his lungs out). “Didn’t sleep.”
“Again?” she gave him a worried look. “You should go to the-oh my god!!”
Newt almost spilled the coffee on him how her shrieking alarmed him, and when the black liquid finally stabilized enough for him to stop worrying about being burned from it, he gave her an evil eye.
“Why are you shouting?” he grumbled, a plus point she earned by the coffee gone. She stared back at him, her eyes wide like saucers and it took him several seconds to realize she is not looking at him, but at his hand.
With the ring.
“Oh,” he piped only (a little sorry now he actually put the ring on and left it there, even though it was a beautiful ring, with a strange maze-like pattern that perfectly matched Thomas’ ring when they put it together. Newt thought it’s cheesy, but secretly adored it) and her face broke into the widest shit-eating grin he ever saw.
“You’re fucking ENGAGED!” she shouted – literally shouted on the whole office and Newt cringed when he saw how every single person there stopped their movements and looked their way. A wave of: “No way!” and “Woooot!” with “Finally” to “Congratulations!” filled the room and Newt groaned when his table suddenly became flooded with people wanting to see the ring and asking idiotic questions.
Fuck my life. I am doomed.
He so was. And he loved it.