Work Text:
Newt didn’t realize something is wrong for several minutes when he crashed on the couch. He flipped the TV on and stared blankly at the screen, fighting with a strange feeling he was missing something, but he just couldn’t get the reason.
Thomas was out with Minho, running who knows where, so it wasn’t him. Did he forgot something at work? Turn off the PC? Send the edit? He couldn’t tell.
Until suddenly it dawned on him like a ton of bricks.
“Tenda?” he tried, aware that he hadn’t seen the cat from the moment he arrived, and she usually greeted him with loud meowing and demanding for food. Not today though, even when he sat down – it was usually a sign for her to jump on his lap and curl on his thighs, waiting for being petted (sometimes he thought she was half a dog).
He stood up and started to fuss around, looking under the couch, behind drawers, to the bed, under it, above it, everywhere. Tenda was nowhere to be found.
He felt panic swelling inside of his chest – what if one of them left the window opened and she jumped out? What if she ran through the opened door when they hadn’t been looking? How was he going to find her in this huge city?!
He forced himself to calm down and forced his brain to work again, to put some logic into the problem.
Thomas went out; maybe he took her with him. He fell in love with the animal, so it was the most likely outcome he could think of. With a fake feeling of security he decided to call his fiancé and get assured, for the sake of his nerves.
Thomas answered on the second ring, his voice a little out of breath, asking what’s going on.
“Do you have Tenda with you?” Newt shot out immediately, feeling his heart pumping wildly.
“Tenda?” Thomas repeated in confusion. “Why would I take the kitty to the park full of dogs?”
“Bloody hell,” Newt groaned. “I dunno, maybe ‘cuz you process of thoughts is sometimes limited, how should I know.”
“Wow, thanks,” Thomas must have rolled his eyes, Newt could hear it all the way to him. “Definitely something I love to hear from you. What’s eating you?”
“Tenda is missing!” Newt barked impatiently, as if it wasn’t clear enough.
“Nonsense,” the writer apparently stopped, because the sound of steps quieted down. He heard Minho in the background, asking what’s going on, and even Teresa’s voice (she started to tag along with them lately, improving her fitness). “She was at home when I was leaving.”
“Well, now she’s not!”
He heard muffled voices, Teresa asking what’s the matter, and Thomas telling her Tenda was apparently missing.
“Calm down,” the writer returned to the speaker, sighing slightly. “Did you search the flat pro-,”
“What do you bloody think? That I just sat here like an idiot, waiting for her to materialise from thin air?!”
“Newt,” Thomas voice grew colder. “Calm down. We’ll find her.”
Newt only growled and ended the call without a proper good bye. His nerves were like violin strings – he had a tiresome week, and today was especially busy, and now the cat was gone and he couldn’t think properly of a possible place for her to be at. Out of desperation he started to search the flat again, trying every possible and impossible place for her to hide, but found nothing again. He swore loudly, picked up his coat and keys and ran out of the flat in haste. The hallway and the stairs were free of the cat as well, so he exited the building and nervously glanced around.
There were infinite possibilities where she could have been. Not to mention the horrifying thought of the road that lead right in front of the building with cars passing all the time. Newt couldn’t think of what to do fast enough, or calmly enough, so he just stood there, absolutely unable to decide where to look first. It apparently took him long enough for Thomas and his two runners get to him, all there out of breath and little sweaty.
“Have you found her?” Thomas asked with a wheeze and Newt gave him an annoyed look.
“Do I look like I have?” he growled in response, earning a frown as a reaction. They had been like this for two days now, because of an idiotic thing that made Newt annoyed, and Thomas even more from his reaction. They quarrelled and refused to talk to each other, Newt even considered sleeping on the couch that night, but the bed won anyway (which made him angry at himself, because he woke up curled in Thomas’ embrace automatically, kissing him good morning out of habit before he remembered he is mad at him and proceeded to act accordingly out of spite). It was stupid, he knew, but his pride just couldn’t let it go, so he snapped at Thomas at any chance he got, even when the writer tried to make up yesterday (and got refused as well).
“God, this is hurting my brain,” Minho commented and Newt had to bite his tongue not to react with something insulting about him not having the brain at all at times, or at least using it very rarely. “Can’t you just kiss and make up?”
Thomas only hmped and muttered something Newt hadn’t caught, and proceeded to the backyard of the building, searching there. Teresa gave them both exasperated look, but thankfully held herself from commenting and went the opposite way.
“So what’s eating you?” Minho asked once they both were out of the hearing range, and Newt refused to answer, instead he started to walk towards the road, ready to cross it and search in the nearby vicinity. Minho followed him, of course, when he let anyone alone when they needed it, and asked again.
“It’s not just the cat?”
“Minho, shut the hell up,” he shot at him angrily and the Asian actually did fall quiet. Newt pointed at the small park: “Go there and search.”
He was grateful when Minho disappeared without another word and left Newt near the abandoned playground alone. It was more like pile of rubbish with dirty pipes and half-demolished climbing frames, but Newt just had a feeling it seemed like a perfect hiding spot for a cat. So he looked and searched and actually went into the widest tubes to look it through, but found nothing, except smelly water through which he crawled and which drenched him as well. In the end he felt miserable and stunk, his clothes looked like pile of rubbish and there was no sight of Tenda.
They searched for two hours, asked people, crawled through all kind of places, but found nothing at all. When the sky got dark and the air cold, Teresa exclaimed it was enough and there was no point and they should start again tomorrow. Newt wanted to flip her off and tell her how she would like to be stuck outside alone and shivering through the whole night, but stopped himself just in time and only nodded. He was cold and wanted to take a shower, crawl to the bed and sleep forever.
***
“I called to the shelters around here, they didn’t get any kitty today that looked like Tenda does,” Thomas told him when they were climbing the stairs up to their flat, both tired and muddy.
“That just means she is out there somewhere,” Newt replied, frowning to himself. “I just don’t get it, how did she even escape?”
Thomas only shook his head and Newt noticed how his hand reached tentatively for his shoulder, but stopped in time and pulled back. It felt wrong, but he the curtain of pride stopped him from throwing his entire bad mood away, even that he knew it would be the best for both of them. There was nothing to fight over, nothing wrong happened. And yet he still couldn’t just smile and wave, and act like nothing happened. It was a terrible character trait, he knew, but strong all the same.
They reached their floor in silence, just to be greeted by a small girl standing in front of their door, watching them curiously. She held Tenda in her arms like a stuffed animal and stared at their shocked faces.
“Is this your cat?” she asked in a high pitched noise, looking down at the small furry, who meowed loudly as a greeting.
“Oh my god,” Newt breathed out and suddenly all the weight dropped from his shoulders. Being it physical, it would crash through the floor for sure.
***
Hot water was the best thing ever. Newt could never say no to a steamy shower, releasing his body from a painful spasm of everyday life just by cascading over his shoulders and back, drenching his hair and washing away everything (starting with the terrible smell he got from the tubes and all kind of places, through getting rid of the cold that crept on him, to a simple enjoyment of a hot water engulfing him).
He felt better. He knew Tenda was safe (that little furry just wormed its way to his heart and stayed there. He was never so terrified of losing anything before), got something to eat and now slept peacefully on the couch, probably with Thomas petting her lovingly.
Well, he hadn’t petted me lovingly for some time.
Which was totally Newt’s own fault.
He sighed, leaning against the wall tiredly. This whole I-am-not-talking-to-you thing was ridiculous. Why was he so stubborn? Thomas was already trying to get them together like normal, make up, but Newt had to get all snappy and offensive over a stupid lost key cause.
In his thinking process he almost didn’t notice the door opening until a swoosh of colder air hit his bare back and he shivered slightly, looking out of the shower stall at Thomas who just entered.
“What?” he asked and frowned a little when Thomas didn’t answer, but instead of that pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor (as always, his habits were too hard to break). Pants followed right after and then Newt was getting crowded against the wall of the shower, his eyes wide and probably a little panicky, but before he could order him to get out, or maybe ask him what’s going on, he lips got busy with a hungry kiss and he whimpered, angling his head just enough for them to fit like two fine pieces of puzzle. Such sudden contact skin on skin was too much for his oversensitive receptors and he could only take and take and take. Thomas didn’t say anything, but his body spoke volumes. His hands weren’t as gentle, his body as relaxed, his kisses as sweet. He was angry and frustrated and since words couldn’t do anything with Newt’s attitude, he apparently decided to leave the verbal assault for another time and start with getting physical.
Bloody hell, it works on me like a charm.
“Tommy,” he moaned into the kiss, his legs getting weak and he was glad Thomas decided to support him, propping him up and locking his legs around his hips. The intimate contact was all Newt needed to lose it completely, absolutely relishing the feeling of his lover touching him again, even that it felt more like a punishment than a regular love making. Maybe that was why it made Newt even hotter, and he mewled into another insistent kiss, grabbing Thomas’ shoulders in a death grip.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out in between thrusts and moaned loudly when the angle got perfect. Thomas only bit him on a collarbone as a response, but his pace hadn’t relented.
“Tommy-,”
“Just be quiet,” Thomas bit out, his brows furrowed in concentration. “I’m trying to stay mad at you here; you’re not making it easy.”
“Then stop being mad,” Newt panted into his ear, whimpering after another delicious hit. “It was enough.”
“Too cunning,” the writer grumbled, mouthing Newt’s jaw, licking the water drops away. “Too fucking cunning.”
“You know me,” Newt laughed breathlessly.
“I know you,” Thomas agreed and bit again. Hard. Newt yelped, his shoulder stung like crazy, but any accusation died in his throat when he saw the darkness in Thomas’ eyes.
“Gonna stay mad at you until the mark is gone,” the writer told him firmly, not even stopping his hips, that bastard. “But if you work hard, I may reconsider.”
“That’s changate,” Newt gasped, hitting his head against the wall, baring his throat to his fiancé. Thomas immediately latched at the pulsing point on his neck, sucking with a clear intention to leave another mark.
“I’m sure you can manage,” Newt heard him growl and that was it. He tensed, a white pleasure washing over him and everything crashed down to that moment of utter satisfaction.
The hell I will manage.