Work Text:
The snowstorm was sweeping across the country.
Thomas eyed the flight board, his eyes anxiously darting across the list of planes and destinations.
DELAYED.
He stared at the red lettering beside his own flight.
He sighed heavily, glancing at his watch. He had opted for a late night flight because it was cheaper, despite it being Christmas Eve.
However, there was a difference between late and late. His plane had a three hour delay on it, and even that was optimistic.
Thomas was well aware of the domino effect the snowstorm had caused. It was all over the news screens in the airport lounges; where flights couldn’t depart in one location, they couldn’t reach their connecting destination to pick up the next load of passengers. Namely, the airport Thomas was currently waiting at.
He began to roam the halls, past the waiting areas. People were crammed in the seats, many on their phones, some with headphones in, and more than a few sleeping - even on the floor as they waited out their delayed flights.
Thomas wandered towards the modest food court and soon found himself sitting at a bar. He opened up his phone, sending a quick text. Will be late. Plane hasn’t come in yet due to snow. Have a good shift :-)
Someone slid onto the seat beside him. “Mind if I join you?” an accented voice asked.
Thomas shook his head. “No, please. Go ahead.”
“Thanks, mate.”
The stranger cleared his throat, setting down his bag and pulling a cowboy hat off his head, planting it down on the counter. Disheveled blonde hair made an appearance; he ran a hand through it in an attempt to tame the strands.
Thomas stared. He was beautiful.
“I’m Thomas,” he blurted out. His face flushing, he frantically stuck out a hand.
The young man grinned warmly. “Newton,” he introduced himself, clasping Thomas’s arm, “but everyone calls me Newt.”
“Newt,” Thomas repeated. He smiled. “I like it.”
“Anything for you gents?” the server asked, striding over.
Thomas groaned. “You got coffee?” A nod. “I’ll have a long black.”
“Tea, please,” Newt said. As the man nodded and walked away, he chuckled. “No milk or anything?”
“I take my coffee as black as my soul,” Thomas deadpanned, causing Newt to erupt in a fit of laughter.
“I like you, Tommy,” he said.
The words made Thomas feel incredibly warm inside.
o-o-o-o-o
Stirring his tea, Newt cleared his throat. “So, whereabouts are you heading on this lovely summer night?”
Thomas snorted, glancing out at the window. A light snow was falling already. “Glade City,” he answered.
Newt’s expression lit up. “Bloody hell, you’re kidding me!” He yanked his boarding pass out of his pocket, squinting at the printed numbers. “Flight 6483?”
Thomas stared at him. What were the chances? “Um, yeah.”
“Wicked! At least we’re in this together.” He tipped some milk into his tea. “Going to see family, I gather?”
Thomas sighed, shaking his head. “Just heading home,” he said sadly. “Normally I spend it with Teresa, but she has to work the next few night shifts. Nursing,” he added.
Newt’s expression shifted. “Girlfriend?” he prodded.
Thomas outright laughed at that. “Ew, no,” he said with a smile. “She’s my best friend. Well, pretty much my only friend -”
He stopped himself suddenly, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. His face flushing, he took a sip of his drink. “I’ve always been a bit of a nerd,” he explained. “Video games, movies, comics; that sort of thing.”
Newt frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“For my social life, yes.” Thomas shrugged. “Apparently not a lot of people want to know that the Millennium Falcon’s main computer was made of three droid brains - a V-5 transport droid, a slicer droid, and Lando’s very own L3-37, who started as an R3-series astromech droid brain.” He winced, acutely aware just how quickly he had gotten carried away.
Newt gave a low whistle, an impressed look on his face. “Bloody hell. Not much of a Trekkie then, I’m guessing?”
Thomas laughed. “Nah, I’m definitely more of a Star Wars guy.”
Newt chuckled. “Good that. Catch me signing up to the First Order.”
“Okay. I’ll be having drinks with Han Solo.”
“You saying I’m not good company?”
“I mean, yeah. But Han Solo.”
“You got me there.”
They both shared a laugh. Newt shook his head. “Honestly, I haven’t known you very long, Tommy, but you seem like a pretty cool shank to me. I mean, from what I’ve gathered you’re pretty passionate about the things you love. And unashamedly too, by the sounds of it. Good sense of humour, check; you - actually, at the risk of sounding like an utter creep, you smell amazing, what is that?”
Thomas spluttered with laughter, giving his shirt a sniff. “I can’t remember. Some generic cologne.”
“Eau de As Long As It Works,” Newt said, nodding sagely.
Thomas grinned. He couldn’t believe how easy it felt, talking to Newt. It was as if they had known each other years already, rather than minutes. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his drink and fighting the blush he could feel staining his cheeks. “What do you do, then? When you’re not trying to take over the galaxy?”
Newt set his tea down. “I’m an artist,” he said. He shrugged. “Landscapes, mainly, but a few portraits.”
“You in galleries?”
It was the most subtle way he could think to ask how good he was. Newt nodded, smiling. “I’ve made it into a few exhibitions,” he said, his eyes shining with pride. “Hence why I’m on this side of the country. I’d show you some of my work, but everything’s packed in my suitcase, unfortunately -”
“No, no, I get it,” Thomas garbled, not trying to cause a problem. “Wouldn’t want them to get damaged. It’s got - uh, a long way to go. Til we get home.”
He inwardly kicked himself for being so awkward. Why couldn’t he think straight around this guy? Straight being the operative word.
Newt tilted his head, peering at him. He rubbed at his jaw. “Frypan’s cooking turkey,” he said out of the blue. “There’ll be heaps left over.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Frypan?”
“Don’t worry, that’s not his actual name,” Newt chuckled. “His parents aren’t that mean. Anyway, tomorrow -” He paused, glancing at his watch. “Tonight,” he corrected himself, “we’re having a Christmas party with a bunch of other shanks. You should come. If you want.”
Thomas stared at him. “You mean it?”
“Of course.” Newt grimaced. “That is, if we even land on time.”
Thomas smiled. “I would love to.” He glanced at his own timepiece and saw the date displayed in minuscule figures on the face. Huffing out a laugh, he raised his drink. “Merry Christmas, I guess, Newt.”
Beaming back at him, Newt clinked their cups together. “Merry Christmas to you too, Tommy.”
o-o-o-o-o
The evening passed in a blur of conversation, hot drinks and laughter. The airport moved around them, a haze of colours and people and suitcases. After a while, Newt pulled out a pen and began doodling on a napkin.
Despite the mountain of coffee he had consumed, Thomas eventually dozed off, lulled by the quiet and the soft music drifting through the airport.
When he woke up, Newt was gone.
He sighed, putting his face in his hands. Of course Newt had been too good to be true. He glanced at his watch. 3am, the face read.
Grumbling under his breath, he made to move when he noticed the cowboy hat still sitting on the counter beside him and the graffitied napkin ... with a phone number scrawled across it.
Huh?
Maybe Newt had just gone to the bathroom, he rationalised. After all, they had drunk a fair bit, and they were on the same flight home. He couldn’t imagine Newt leaving without his hat anyway.
He had just crammed the napkin into his pocket when there was the sudden rush of footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder, his jaw promptly dropping open.
It was Newt, sprinting towards him, his bag bouncing on his back and a wide grin on his face. “Tommy, the plane just arrived!” he shouted. Reaching him, he grabbed Thomas’s arm and tugged him off the stool, grabbing his hat in the same instant and jamming it onto his head. “Come on, we’re going home!”
o-o-o-o-o
Three hours later, they finally landed at Glade Airport.
Thomas was relieved when the seatbelt sign turned off. He had felt restless the entire flight but had been unable to move around, scared to disturb the young woman beside him who had sat playing on a portable chess board the whole time.
Being at the back of the plane, Thomas was one of the last to get off. He had just begun his traipse up the aisle when a figure up ahead stood from his seat, pulling his bag from the overhead compartment. Newt.
He beamed, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Thanks for waiting.”
“It’s Christmas, Tommy,” Newt smiled, throwing his bag on his back. “No man’s being left behind.”
Thomas laughed, and the two of them set off together, thanking the stewardesses on their way out. They grabbed their suitcases from the baggage claim and left the airport in the same cab, Newt throwing an address on the eastern side of the city at the driver.
Thomas blinked, realisation dawning. By going home first, Newt was giving Thomas both his address and some privacy, offering him the opportunity to back out.
Like hell he was.
“Now, you look after yourself and get some sleep,” Newt said, passing some money to the driver as they pulled up outside a row of brick townhouses on a quaint street.
“Will do. Uh, see you tonight?” Thomas ventured cautiously.
Newt beamed, throwing him a wink. “See you tonight, Tommy.”
With that, he leaped out and closed the door behind him, leaving Thomas to wonder just what he had gotten himself into, his cheeks a blazing red. Newt had winked at him.
The driver turned to him. “Where to, sir?”
o-o-o-o-o
“Tomboy, you made it!”
Thomas stared at the people cramming in the doorway to welcome him. “Uh, I - I -” he stammered.
“Quiet, you lot!” a familiar accented voice called. “You’re gonna scare the poor shank off.”
Newt suddenly appeared out of the mob of people. “Good to see you, Tommy!” he grinned, pulling Thomas into a quick embrace.
Stunned, his face flushing, Thomas quickly returned it.
“Let’s get the introductions out of the way. Everyone, this is Thomas -”
“HELLO, THOMAS!” the crowd of boys hollered cheekily in the same monotone voice they would respond to a teacher with. Thomas grinned wryly.
“Slim it! Thomas, this is Chuck, Winston, Frypan, Zart, Ben, Minho, Gally, Alby -”
They all waved at him; Thomas smiled back shyly, trying desperately to comprehend the list of names being thrown at him as he was pulled through the doorway to join the festivities, Newt’s arm slung comfortably over his shoulder.
Dinner was a riot, everyone crammed around the table with barely any elbow room to spare, wolfing down roast turkey and potatoes and vegetables, all of which were drowned in gravy. They told stories, they drank, they sang; it was wild, it was boisterous; it was a brotherhood that Thomas was welcomed into with open arms.
Newt threw his head back in laughter for the umpteenth time, and Thomas couldn’t take his eyes away.
He was simply breathtaking.
As they began to wind down for the evening, Thomas found himself sitting out on the front steps with Newt, the two of them taking a breath of fresh air, the world coated in white around them.
Thomas couldn’t make sense of the whole situation. He had connected more with Newt within the last day than he had with ... well, anyone for a long time. The fact that Newt embraced Thomas’s passions, listened to him and respected him to such an extent was something of a novelty to him. Since his father hadn’t been in the picture for a few years, he had only had such reassurances from Teresa, and that had always been in a strictly platonic sense.
There was something about the way Newt looked at him that he couldn’t quite figure out, that thrilled him and made him curious all at once.
A new song began to play. After a chorus of cheers, they could faintly hear the boys inside bawling the lyrics. Thomas shook his head in amusement.
“They’re a bunch of idiots,” Newt announced, grinning.
A speck of white floated in front of Thomas’s face, followed by another, and another. Looking up, he laughed lightly, a smile stretching across his face.
Snow was beginning to fall from the heavens.
“You like the snow, Tommy?”
It was barely louder than a whisper. Thomas turned his head to find Newt gazing at him, his eyes warm and tender. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He chuckled softly. “It sounds silly, but I believe in magic. Even just the little moments like this.”
They sat watching the snow for a few minutes before Newt suddenly stood up, brushing the flakes off his pants. Clearing his throat, he offered his hand to Thomas. “Would you like a dance?”
Thomas stared.
The silence stretched.
Panic swept across Newt’s face. He opened his mouth to speak when Thomas suddenly grabbed his hand.
Thomas’s cheeks were on fire. He smiled nervously. “I’d love one,” he whispered.
Newt beamed, his smile dazzling. His heart hammering in his chest, Thomas let Newt pull him to his feet and out into the middle of the street.
Swallowing thickly, Thomas took one of Newt’s hands in his own, the other moving to rest at the small of Newt’s back. Newt mirrored him, the hand not gripping Thomas’s resting on his shoulder.
They swayed to the music drifting from Newt’s home, the snowfall steadily getting heavier around them. The soft glow of the door lamps and the coloured Christmas lights illuminated the street.
All was peaceful; all was magical.
Newt began to hum along to the music, resting the side of his head against Thomas’s jaw as they continued to turn in a slow circle, snow coating them, their shoes leaving tracks in the glistening white across the road.
Thomas felt wonderfully content, filled with a sense of peace. Newt’s body was warm against him, in stark contrast to the chill of the night.
The snow clouds shifted, revealing a patch of starry sky. He gasped, seeing the tail end of a comet disappearing across the heavens.
“A shooting star,” Thomas whispered.
Newt tilted his head, looking at him. “Make a wish?”
Glancing down, Thomas suddenly couldn’t breathe.
They were barely an inch apart.
He nervously licked his lips. Newt’s eyes darted, tracking the movement. “Tommy?” he whispered hoarsely.
There was nothing else for it.
Thomas gently pushed forward and closed the gap between them, his lips softly pressing against Newt’s.
It was sweet, it was tender; it was everything Thomas had wanted. Newt sighed happily against him, tugging him closer. They held the kiss for a few more seconds before slowly pulling apart, gazing at each other breathlessly.
“Wow,” Thomas said dumbly.
Newt giggled, the glow of the Christmas lights dancing in his awed eyes. “Bloody hell,” he grinned. “Bloody hell.”
Laughing, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, Thomas brushed their noses together, Newt tilting his head up -
A chorus of wolf whistles and cheers split the air. Thomas lurched backwards, his eyes wide, and suddenly burst out laughing, Newt following suit a moment later. All of Newt’s friends were crammed against the windows.
“Why did I even bother putting mistletoe inside?!” Minho howled.
Newt flipped him off. Thomas laughed even harder, clutching at Newt as he gazed at the adorable smile on his face. Shaking his head, Newt wrapped his arms around Thomas’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
It hadn’t been the Christmas that Thomas had expected, but there was no doubt it had been one of his best yet.