Work Text:
“I – I can’t dance,” Newt pleaded. He was at Thomas’s place, a couple of drinks in, music blaring.
“C’mon, everyone can dance! It’s human nature!” Thomas retorted, pulling on Newt’s arm.
Newt wanted to dance with Thomas, to feel him close, but he really didn’t know how. Not since the accident. “No, Tommy, my– my leg,” he protested.
“Hey, I’ll guide you, c’mon, just lean on me.”
Newt couldn’t say no to that offer. Almost begrudgingly, he stood, and Thomas immediately put an arm around him, held his other hand, and pulled him close. Newt’s breath caught, he blushed hard. He could feel the warmth of Tommy’s body, the smell of alcohol in his breath. He could count every one of his eyelashes. It burned where Thomas’s fingers touched him. Newt’s own grip on Thomas’s shoulder tightened and his eyes dropped to Tommy’s lips for a split second.
“See?” Thomas said. “You’re dancing.”
He was right. Almost imperceptibly, they had begun swaying slowly, Thomas carrying half of Newt’s weight. They weren’t dancing along to the music from the speakers, but to their own, slow song, their own kind of waltz. Newt smiled.
Tommy’s lips were as soft as he’d imagined.