Work Text:
Newt felt sick. He was cold, shivery and on a board of throwing up, and it kept him from sleeping so solidly he managed to catch his phone before the alarm rung and scored a bonus point of not waking Thomas up.
He spent half an hour in the bathroom, at first trying a hot shower, and then kneeling in front of the toilet in fear he was really going to dump the contents of his stomach to the porcelain god. It didn’t come and Newt just didn’t have the stomach (well, it was exactly the problem after all) to put fingers to his throat and throw up forcefully.
He knew staying at home would be the best option, but the insane amount of deadlines threatened him from afar and he just had to go to the office, at least to finish one thing if not all of them. He was happy he was able to leave the flat without Thomas noticing, his state too obvious, and there was no doubt the writer would probably strap him to the bed and feed him chicken soup.
The office was warm, but he still trembled like an expensive dog and half of his signatures looked like a kid’s sketch. The deadline time was approaching for all of them, so he rarely saw anyone to wander around the office like usual – which was a plus point, he could imagine Teresa freaking out about his state the second she saw him.
I should at least make tea or something warm.
The letters were jumping in front of his eyes, not even forming proper words and he had to pinch the bridge of his nose and attempt to focus again a little later. His throat hurt and he decided the tea wasn’t that bad idea after all and rose up to get it.
He managed to make two steps and then everything faded to black.
***
“-haven’t even seen it coming, he was alright yesterday, I just…” Thomas unsteady voice flooded his consciousness and he opened his eyes a fraction, being greeted with too bright light, so he closed them again.
“The tests were alright,” another male voice, much calmer, spoke next. “Nothing unusual. From all the symptoms it looks like a common cold, but probably along with exhaustion that made a mess out of it.”
“Are you sure?” Thomas again, sounding so anxious Newt wanted to laugh a little at the worry. “He fainted at work. And it’s not the first time either, I-,”
Newt couldn’t stop the groan that fought its way out of his throat and Thomas immediately shut up and apparently jumped to him, because suddenly he felt a firm grip on his hand.
“How do you feel?” he asked, shaken and Newt finally opened his eyes again, taking in the environment.
A hospital room. Joy.
“A hospital?” he croaked out unhappily and Thomas nodded, his eyes red and face pale like a chalk. “Geez, man up. I’m not dying.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” Thomas opposed, frowning. “You went sick to work, are you mad?”
“Just busy,” he mumbled and nodded towards the doctor who still awkwardly stood in the room, pretending to be preoccupied with the file he held. “Doctor said it’s just a cold, yeah?”
“You should take it easy for few weeks,” the doctor spoke up quickly, apparently grateful that he got included again. “But the tests came out negative; there is nothing wrong with you, except the cold.”
“See?” he glanced back at Thomas who was biting his lips nervously. “Thanks, doctor.”
The man was out of the room right after, probably happy that he didn’t need to witness more sappiness than was healthy.
“Fuck, I think I got a little heart-attack,” Thomas breathed out, collapsing on the bed head first, resting it on Newt’s stomach. “Minho called me, saying you lost consciousness in the office and they brought you to the hospital, that Teresa called him all weepy and hysterical, and I just couldn’t-,”
A burst of laughter was probably not what Thomas expected, but it stopped him from another salve of babbling and Newt laughed and laughed.
“You’re all drama queens,” he giggled, earning an evil eye from the writer. “Too bad I haven’t seen it! Would crack me up for sure.”
“Newt, this is serious,” Thomas grumbled, squeezing his hand even tighter. “I got called you were in a hospital and that you lost consciousness, do you have any idea how it scared me?”
It made Newt calm down a little, smiling sheepishly at the man, and squeezing his hand in return comfortingly.
“I’m fine,” he assured him. He even felt a little better; the fever was probably gone as well. Thomas didn’t say anything, only stared at him with a stormy expression, and Newt sighed in defeat.
“I get it. I’d be scared too if I heard something like that,” he admitted honestly and tugged a little. “Give me a hug?”
He didn’t need to tell him twice and Thomas embraced him carefully, kissing his temple, but his body was tense and a little trembly.
“I’m fine, you dork, calm down,” Newt patted him gently, earning even tighter grip. “Thank you for coming here.”
“I love you,” Thomas replied in a tight voice. “Please don’t ever scare me like this again.”
“I’ll try,” Newt assured him with a sigh. “Sorry. I love you too.”