Work Text:
"Do you remember our first kiss?" Thomas asked one quiet afternoon on the couch of his and Newt's shared apartment.
Newt raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Tommy, obviously I bloody remember our first kiss."
"I mean our actual first kiss," Thomas said, moving his head so it was resting on Newt's chest instead of his shoulder. "The one that was months before we got together. I thought you might have been too drunk to remember."
Newt smiled. "You mean the New Year's party."
Thomas nodded.
"Of course I remember it."
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The music was that perfect volume that made you feel the bass all the way through to your bones. Thomas's vision swam, blurring the colored lights hanging all around the room.
He couldn't remember how much champagne he'd had, but he was pretty sure it wasn't enough to get him this drunk. Maybe someone had put something in it. Or maybe it had never even been champagne in the first place.
Thomas looked around the room for his friends. He saw Brenda dancing with some guy he didn't know, and Frypan complaining to Winston about the flavor of the nachos. Who even had nachos at a New Year's party anyway?
And then he saw Newt. He was standing talking with a group of people, some of which Thomas knew, and others that he didn't. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was just in love, but he swore Newt was glowing. He was laughing, laughing in the sort of way where you just know that he must be hammered, but in the best, most euphoric way possible.
The rest of them were too — Minho was giggling, actually giggling — but in Thomas's opinion no one did it quite like Newt. It was like magic. He let go. He would dance and sing badly and double over laughing, and look so carefree it made Thomas's heart hurt with longing and happiness.
Then, like he could hear Thomas's thoughts, Newt turned and smiled at him, beckoning him over. As Thomas's feet stumbled in Newt's direction, his addled brain wondered if maybe Newt really could hear his thoughts. That was a little terrifying. Thomas would have to move to Australia and change his name to Stephen.
"Hi, Tommy!" Newt said happily.
"Hey," Thomas replied with a smile.
Then, to his surprise, Newt grabbed his hand, dragging him through the crowd of people so they had a better view of the screen positioned at the front of the room. The host of the party — Thomas couldn't even remember who it was — had put on the Time Square ball drop on for everyone to watch.
"The countdown is about to start," Newt grinned.
Thomas grinned back as people started counting. They joined in with everyone else. It was a tradition that Thomas had always found a little silly, but he was drunk and everyone was drunk and nobody really cared that it was silly.
He looked over at Newt again, and saw that he was looking back, still smiling. His eyes were sparkling. Thomas felt like he probably needed to sit down before his knees gave out.
Newt took a step towards him. Then another, putting them almost nose to nose. Thomas's heart was racing, and he felt hot all over. The people were still counting down.
3
2
1
Thomas barely heard the "Happy New Year!" because then Newt was kissing him.
The world fell away.
Newt's lips were soft and warm against Thomas’s, and he tasted of bittersweet alcohol. It felt like a bolt of electricity and like coming home at the same time. Thomas felt delirious; burning in the dead of winter. Burning in a way that felt so right that he didn't care about anything else. He knew he would do anything to get that burning back.
And then they pulled away and looked at each other, trying to catch their breath. Thomas didn't know who laughed first, but soon they were both laughing. Hysterically, nearly doubled over. They didn't even know what was funny, just that they had kissed and it was nothing and everything and that most likely neither of them would remember in the morning, so right now they could just laugh until their ribs hurt.
Because right now they were nineteen, drunk out their minds on probably-not-actually-champagne, and they had just kissed and neither of them knew how much the other had truly wanted it. And now they were laughing.
The year had just begun.
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Bonus:
Thomas smiled as he saw Minho lean forward and kiss Aris. It had just been a dare, but if Minho had accepted a little too quickly, and held it a little too long, grinned a little too big; well, Thomas was willing to pretend he didn't notice.