Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Dylmas - Pumped Up Kicks (Bridge and Law Remix)

Oh my gosh, I just wanna start with a MASSIVE thank you to everyone here! For reading these, for voting, for commenting and just for being so awesome! Your support is incredible. Also, huge thanks to everyone who entered the 2K competition, winners are below.

1st Place: Gleek_runner
2nd Place: emmacasey28
3rd Place: Lizzielizzie12

Based on: Pumped Up Kicks (Bridge and Law Remix) by Foster The People

I won't lie, this one-shot wasn't largely based on the song but the song reminds me of New York for some reason. I actually got (kinda stole/used) this idea from an episode of Melissa and Joey that I thought would be really good. So, enjoy!

Thomas' POV

I sighed in relief as I finally stepped out of the car, legs cramped and bones aching. A low groan left my lips at the feeling of stretching out my muscles – I closed my eyes as I rolled my shoulders back, twisting my neck at awkward angles until I heard a satisfying click.

The air, however, wasn't fresh like what I had been craving after such a long car ride. It was filled with fumes and dirty smells. The repetitive sounds of car horns could be heard from down the street, ringing in my head, loudly. It didn't help my headache.

I hadn't even been there a full five minutes and I already hated New York.

My blissful peace was soon ruined the minute my mum knocked on the front door that stood in front of us; a high-pitched squeal echoing from inside the unfamiliar house, followed by thumping footsteps. The door was practically ripped off of its hinges and standing on the other side, beaming at my mum, was a slim, brunette woman with warm brown eyes and a bright red smile. The stranger engulfed my mum in a bone-crushing hug, muttering happy welcomes over and over until she looked up and her eyes fell on me.

"Oh!" she squeaked, jumping down the few steps that lead to her house, "This must be the little Thomas. I haven't seen you since you were a baby, my dear. Haven't you grown?"

I stood, dumbfounded and embarrassed as the woman wrapped her arms around me, the pungent smell of her sweet perfume staining my nostrils. Glancing over her shoulder, I saw my mum send me a stern look (although it wasn't very threatening considering she had a huge smile on her face). I mentally rolled my eyes, plastering a smile on my own face as the woman pulled away, her hands resting on my shoulders.

"Dylan's upstairs. You remember Dylan, right?" she said, walking back towards my mum. I just nodded silently, not bringing myself to lie (verbally anyway), before following her and my mum into the house.

The house was small but cosy. The walls were painted a pale yellow that shone golden under the streaks of late afternoon sunlight coming through the wide, open windows. The furniture was old, but neat, nothing matching – unlike at my house, where even the curtains had to match the cushions on the settee. I liked it, though, it was sort of 'hippy'. It looked lived-in.

My mum and her old childhood friend sat down at the kitchen table, the sound of the kettle boiling heard in the background. Neither of them looked up as I walked past, heading up the unfamiliar stairs, the floorboards creaking under my feet.

As I neared the landing, I could hear the soft sounds of a voice, singing perhaps, from behind one of the closed doors. I walked closer, a smile unintentionally slipping onto my lips as I knocked quietly on the door. The voice stopped abruptly, and there was a flood of sounds (something, or somebody, falling over, cursing, a chair being pushed out of the way and the door clicking open).