Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Dylmas - Sweater Weather

Oh my God, guys, this book just hit 32K!!! I actually can't believe it! Thank you all so much x

Dedicated to: Black__Fox for being such an amazing and supportive reader!

Based on: Sweater Weather by Max Schneider and Alyson Stoner (it's a cover).

PS. This is Part 2 to the previous One-Shot: You

3rd Person POV

Dylan zipped up his beloved leather jacket and ran down the stairs of his apartment block. He couldn't be late!

Within five minutes he was arriving outside Coffee Express, just in time to see Thomas locking the place up. Thomas turned around as he heard footsteps approaching, and smile in relief as he saw Dylan stood there.

"Hi!" Dylan breathed out, his breath rising passed his face in a misty cloud. The tip of his nose was a light shade of red and his hands were stuffed inside his jacket pockets. He wore the same leather jacket that he always seemed to wear, sporting a tight-fitted, white t-shirt underneath and skinny jeans. Thomas looked down at his own outfit, jeans and a red jumper with a loose, green, cargo jacket, combat boots and a black and grey stripe, woolly scarf. "You look beautiful." Dylan spoke, taking a step closer to Thomas and reaching a hand out to clasp around Thomas'.

A shy smile slipped onto Thomas' lips as their fingers intertwined perfectly like two jigsaw puzzle pieces.

"Let's get going," Thomas said, a barely visible blush creeping up to the surface of his cheeks. "I made reservations for 6."

Dylan nodded as they both started to walk down the street, sharing light conversation.

They finally arrived outside the restaurant that Thomas had booked for them. Dylan looked up at the building, snowflakes hanging behind the two large windows that each had a silver tinsel border. A bright red paint covered the wall of the restaurant and the name hung above their heads in gold letters.

"Woah..." Dylan laughed in awe.

"Is it not good enough? I mean, we-we could go somewhere else. I don't mind!" Thomas asked.

"No!" Dylan replied quickly, "It's, it's just, really posh. This is so out of my league!"

Thomas chuckled, nudging Dylan's shoulder and taking a step forward, his arm subtly snaking around Dylan's waist.

"Nah," he said, his voice quiet, "You're out of my league."

Dylan chose not to reply, just smiled as he followed Thomas' lead, a warm, fluttery feeling seeping into his chest.

"Table for two, please." Thomas said to the waiter, dressed in a smart, all-black uniform.

"Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Oh, yeah, it should be under the name Sangster."

As the man looked for their table number, Dylan glanced around the restaurant. It was posh, that was a definite. Couples sat at tables, women in classy dresses and men wearing their cleanest suits. He felt so out of place stood here in jeans and a t-shirt.

"This way please, gentlemen." The waiter spoke, leading Thomas and Dylan over to a more secluded table by the left of the restaurant. "I'll bring your menus over soon."

The two men sat down at the table, placing their jackets over the backs of their chairs.

"So, how as your day?" Dylan asked, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Thomas begin to explain the events of his day.