Work Text:
"Do you know what I miss most about you not running anymore, Newt?" Thomas asked, leaning over the dividing ropes so he could sneak his boyfriend a kiss before the race started. Newt could see a few of the other runners glancing at them a few feet away.
"Watching me beat you at every race?" He pulled Thomas in for another kiss. Thomas broke away with a smirk.
"No, getting to see you in those tiny little running shorts"
"Hmm..." Newt grabbed the front of Thomas' tank, pulling him close and whispering in his ear,
"Still have those, you know. Maybe if you win, ill put them on for you tonight"
Thomas' mouth fell open a bit at the thought of Newt parading around in nothing but his tight Nike shorts.
Newt released his hold on the shirt when he noticed one of the other runners break away from the group and jog towards them. Newt didn't recognise him, he must have joined the team after he left. The boy had jet black hair that was styled into a perfect quiff, and his arm muscles were obscene. He was hot, Newt had to admit, and he couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes drift over the boy's toned body for a bit longer than necessary. Thomas noticed Newt checking out the boy, and apparently the boy did as well, because he made a point of returning the look. Thomas took a step towards Newt.
"What do you want, Minho?" Minho ignored Thomas, keeping his eyes locked on Newt.
"Sorry to interrupt, but you're Newt right? Fastest time in the history of the university, qualified for the olympics last year?"
"Uh, yeah. That would be me" Newts face remained pleasant and friendly, but Thomas caught the hint of sadness that crept into his eyes at this. No matter how 'over it' Newt pretended to be, Thomas knew the car accident, the one that took away the biggest opportunity of his life and ensured he would never be able to run again, still haunted him at night and left him crying into Thomas shoulder when no one else was around.
"Wow, i've got to say, i'm a huge fan. You're kind of a legend around here, especially after...you know" Minho glanced down at Newt's leg, and Newt shifted uncomfortably. "Now you're in pre-law, yeah? You've got it all, then, brains, brawn, and beauty. Any man would be jealous" And ok, Thomas was 1000% done with this kid.
"Yeah, my boyfriend," He emphasized 'boyfriend' "is pretty amazing, but if you're done, we were kind of in the middle of something." He took another step closer to Newt, trying to position himself between Newt and Minho as much as he could with the rope still in the way. Minho seemed utterly unphased by Thomas' statement and continued talking straight to Newt.
"Actually, a few guys and I were planning of having, like, a small little get together thing at my house after the race, you know, to celebrate. You should stop by" He pointedly did not look at Thomas as he said this, making it quite clear that the invitation was only for one.
"Yeah, I really don't think i'm going to be able to make it, sorry"
"Are you sure? You won't have to bring anything, except you, of course" Minho was practically fucking Newt with his eyes and Newt could see that Thomas was getting dangerously close to losing it.
"He's sure. We actually have plans already" Thomas tried very hard to make sure Minho got the message that 'plans' actually meant 'fucking Newt into the mattress all night because this amazing, beautiful boy was fucking HIS'. Just to drive the point home, he wrapped an arm around Newts waist, his hand falling a little too low for decent company. Thomas was practically cocking his leg and pissing all over Newt at this point, but Minho was either completely ignoring him or was incredibly stupid.
"Alright then, but know, if you ever get bored with your 'plans', my doors are always open" He started to walk away. Thomas' fists were balled at his side, knuckles white. Newt could see his own anger reflected in his boyfriend's face and he felt no regret as he leaned over and whispered into Thomas' ear, "Do it." Thomas ripped away from Newt and ran to catch up to Minho. He tapped him on the shoulder. "What do you-" Before Minho could get out another word, Thomas' fist collided with his face, and the sound of cartilage snapping echoed across the field.
Needless to say, Thomas was disqualified from the race, but Thomas really couldn't bring himself to be that disappointed when he was lying in his bed, several hours later, Newt curled up, naked, into his side.
"You know, Thomas, You're hot when you get at possessive"
"Really?"
"Yeah, I like it"
"Well, I like protecting you"
"You're like, my knight in shining armor"
"Yeah? And what does that make you? My princess?"
"No! Of course not"
"What are you then?" Thomas could practically feel Newt rolling his eyes.
"Your king, obviously"