Twenty

1.4K 69 90
                                    

When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing Thomas saw was a blond sat on his bed, watching him with a goofy grin on his face.

"Morning Rambo." He grinned. Thomas blinked a couple times, trying to get his eyes in focus.

"Newt?" His voice was raspy and croaky. "How long have I been here?" He muttered. Newt placed a finger to his lips and frowned at Thomas sternly. The american pouted and nodded.

"I'll answer all your questions if you let me." Thomas nodded, "You've been here for a day. No they didn't find the shooter. No Ava's tracker hasn't picked up anything interesting. Neither has Janson's. Yes Chuck does think you're a badass, your mums gonna come see you later, no, no one else was hurt, no we haven't found anything else in relation to Teresa or Sonya, and yes I'm fine." Newt listed off. Thomas nodded in acknowledgement and thought for a moment.

"Thanks Newt."

"What for?"

"Saving my life."

"Oh hush." he waved if off in dismissal, "no point thanking me for that. I mean, we're even. If you hadn't have bloody rugby tackled be to the floor I'm pretty sure my head would have been blown off." he snorted softly, voice low and soft as he watched Thomas intently.

"Hey," Thomas held out his palm, and after a moment Newt pressed his stretched palm against it. He didn't have to say anything else. The simple touch and unending stares between them both said more than Thomas could ever articulate in words. 'I'm glad your ok. I don't care that it's part of the job, thank you for saving me. I care about you. I'm here. I'm safe. Thank you for worrying. Thank you for being there. Thank you for caring. I'd save your life any day. I want to keep you safe. Even if you can look after yourself I still want to protect you. Thank you for following me. Thank you for supporting me, even if some of my plans are fucking ridiculous.'

Much to Thomas's dismay, Newt eventually took his palm away.

"I got something for you." he pulled a small zip lock bag out of his pocket.

"What is it?" Thomas asked. Newt held the small bag up to the light, giving Thomas a good look at what was inside. It was a small bullet, covered in rust coloured blood.

"Your bullet. Somehow managed to stay in tact. Thought you might want to keep it." he shrugged. Thomas took the bag from him.

"Is it not being used for evidence?"

"Eh. They've got plenty more." Thomas took the bullet out of the bag, turning it over in his palm. "Little bugger that thing." Newt scoffed.

"Mhm. Sure I'll keep it, why not. Wait, are you still staying at mine?" He asked, dropping the small pellet back into the bag. Newt laughed softly, and maybe a little sheepishly, taking the bullet back from it's victim.

"Yeah, but don't worry. Haven't burnt it down yet. Lonely last night though, so I just painted."

"Aww, d'ya miss me?" Thomas teased. Newt scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You wish. I was praying for the day you finally got shot." He stood up, signifying he was planning to leave.

"Hey! That's mean." Thomas threw him a hurt look, which the blond grinned back at and gently tapped Thomas's knuckle. Sorry.

"Get some rest. We need you on your feet as soon as possible. I need you back on your feet." He met Newt's chocolate eyes.

"Oh yeah? Why might that be?"

"Well, who would I crash buses with if I didn't have you?"

-

When Thomas awoke again, two hours later, he was greeted with the sweet face of his mother. Mary had dark hair resembling her eldest sons, falling elegantly, much like Teresa's. Her eyes were dark and kind, her lips plastered into a soft and worrisome smile. Wrinkles lined her face, some caused by smiling, having a tight knit family who all loved each other very much and were always making each other smile, the others caused by stressed by the fact that her son had a job that regular involved guns, and apparently crashing public transport.

"Hi sweetie, how do you feel?" She asked softly, running a calming hand through his hair. He just nodded and squeezed her hand, trying to send her as much reassurance and he could through his eyes.

"I feel fine Mom. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Worrying me?! More like knocking ten years of my life. Do you have any idea how scared we were?" Now that the checkover was done, here came the scolding.

"I'm sorry Mom, I didn't mean to get shot."

"Well..you should have been more careful. Not only that but you're setting a bad example for your brother. He was talking about how cool it was to get shot, so you better give him a stern talking too." She said firmly, trying to keep up the act that she was angry.

"I will Mom." Thomas nodded. Mary seemed satisfied and dropped the act, squeezing her son's hand and smiling again. "Were you watching?" He grimaced, scared of the answer.

"Of course I was! It was all over the TV, I was terrified. Of course, the cameras cut out when the shots were fired, so we didn't know what had happened until Chuckie and I got to the hall."

"Mom! That was so dangerous!" He scolded his elder. She sighed and nodded.

"I know, but I was just so worried, I wasn't thinking straight at the time. I just wanted to make sure my little boy was ok." She placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, worry lining her face. Thomas smiled softly at her, not needing to say anything else. There was a long pause, until Thomas swallowed.

"Mom?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I think I'm in love."

Mary's face lit up, all signs of worry disappearing from her face. A wide smile became plastered on her lips, dark eyes lighting up with curiosity, hope and excitement.

"Sweetie that's wonderful! Who are they? When can I meet them? Where did you meet them? What are they like? Do you want to get married?"

"Mom!" Thomas spluttered. She blinked and bit her lip.

"Oops, sorry. Go on then, who are they?" She pushed, watching her son expectantly. He took a deep breath.

"Well, you know how I liked to switch partners a lot? Because I liked the difference, they all brought something new to my job, made it interesting. So I never got attached?"

"Yeah, I know." He met his mothers eye.

"I don't think I could leave him if I wanted too." he whispered. Mary was practically glowing with happiness, pushing him to ramble about his crush. "I..I tired not to get attached, like I usually do..but..I couldn't help it. I don't think I even realised I was getting attached until it was too late. I mean jesus, I've only known him a few months and I already feel closer to him than I do with anyone else. I can't draw myself away from him, hell, I physically can't keep my hands off of him.

'He's so perfect..no..no he's not. He's imperfect, but that's why I think I like him so much. He's so..quirky. Every little thing, it's all so different and unique, and I love it. He has a wonky smile for gods sake! And he paints and he has glasses and he's so smart and he's saved my life and he's so so funny and I love making him laugh and he's so kind, and even though Ive been a dick to him and forced him into life threatening situations, he's never once held it against me and he sticks his tongue out a bit when he laughs and he likes strong coffee and he can't cook and his skin is so soft and his hair gets in his eyes and his guilty pleasure is listening to Britney Spears even though he'd never admit it." He gasped for breath, and glanced at his mom. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"Well when can I meet him?!"

"Should I ask him to dinner? I mean it wouldn't be weird right? He's spent the day with Chuck, would it be weird Mom?"

"No, I don't think so. Hang on, is this the one staying at your apartment?" She asked. Thomas nodded and chewed on his lip.

"I'll ask him. Oh Mom you're gonna love him. He's literally the sweetest person you will ever meet."

"Can I see a picture of him?" She asked excitably. Thomas reached for his phone, pulling up a sneaky picture he had taken of the blond. It was from across the office, from where Thomas had been making him laugh. He was mid laugh, wonkily grinning at his partner. Mary smiled at it.

"He's very handsome." She commented. Thomas nodded and smiled fondly at the photo before putting away his phone. "What's his name?" Mary asked.

"Newt."

FingerprintsWhere stories live. Discover now