Mint and Alcohol is a Weird Mixture (Oneshots)

Pickles and Ink

Thomas shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the feeling of holes being bored into the back of his head. What was the new blondy in the back so fascinated about his cranium? Thomas occasionally shot nervous glances towards him, chewing on the end of his pen.
Thomas rubbed the back of his hand across his face, only to realize red ink was smeared across his hand. He quickly looked up at his teacher, her back facing the class, and he rushed across the classroom to the box of tissues. He almost tripped over his own feet, but he made it safely to the box without anything broken in bis face. He always some how tripped when he was in a hurry, an unwanted conversation with the floor was how it always ended.
He quickly tried to rub the ink away, only to be interrupted by the bell and ran back to his seat, grab his things, and a painful collision between his hip and a desk before he was out the classroom door. His next class was on the other side of the school, so unless he hurried to wash the ink off, he was going to be late.
"Hey," he was interrupted by a british accent, "Thomas?"
Thomas quickly looked behind him, not thinking much of the familiar blonde being behind him and continued with his quick wash.
"I'm busy at the moment. My next class is on the other side of this hellhole and would appreciate it if you would talk to me later considering I'm in a pickle at the moment." Thomas quickly rambled as he scrubbed roughly at his face with a paper towel, which was making a splotch of red on his face.
Newt grinned, laughing to himself before responding, "why be in a pickle, when you can be on my pickle?" Thomas spun around with a look up surprise plastered onto his splotchy red  face, mixed with confusion of course. The brit quickly flushed red.
"Uhhhm... sorry, it kinda slipped. It was a joke, and it wont happen again." Thomas shrugged, acting as if he didnt care but he was still definitely freaked out.
He gave up with trying to get rid of the stubborn ink, he decided the splotchy red would be a lot worst than the ink. The blonde decided he had better things to do than class, and that better thing was watching Thomas rush. He sped out into the hallway, the bell had already rung, and blondy was hot on his heels.
"Dont you have classes?" Thomas glanced behind him.
"Yeah, I guess. I dont really care, though."
"I see. You're one of those rebels then?"
"Not necessarily." The brit shrugged.
"Do you have a name?" The blonde looked at him with a grin, his eyes filled with something indescribable, but it surprised Thomas.
"Names Newt."
"Hi Newt, Im Thomas. Now this is my class, so this is where we part ways. See ya I guess." Thomas was about to part ways, but a hand had snaked around his mole sprinkled neck, turning his head back and pulling him in. Lips brushed against lips, Thomas's heart stopped for a whole 10 seconds.
"Ok, I love you." Was sighed into his ear until the warmth of the hand pressed against his neck had vanished. Thomas stood, yet he couldnt help a laugh crack through the silence in the hallway.
"That escalated quickly." Was the only thing that escaped his lips other than a sigh.

(a/n *has no idea what this is turning into* i also have no idea what to even call this)