Fingerprints

Twenty-two

Thomas swallowed his nerves, and knocked on the door of his childhood home with a clammy hand. He glanced behind him, Newt simply grinning and flicking a few strands of blond away from his deep eyes. The door was flung open, and there stood the man's mother and little brother, clearly having been filled in on his older's bothers crush.

"Hi sweetie!" His mom practically squealed, before glancing over the man's shoulder. Her features lit up, and Thomas could clearly tell she was very pleased with the man Thomas had chosen to fall for. "Newt! It's amazing to have you here!" She beamed, ushering the two into the house. "Come in come in, don't stand out there in the cold." She closed the for behind them. Chuck met Thomas's eye, throwing him a smirk, which his brother wiped off with a shove to the shoulder.

"Thank you for having me Ms Greene." Newt smiled warmly at his mother. She burst into giggles, and Thomas wasn't sure wether he wanted the ground to swallow him, or his mother up more. She was acting more nervous than he was.

"Thomas, you didn't tell me he was British!" She squealed. "Oh and please sweetheart, call me Mary." She beamed.

"Ok Mom, seriously chill out." Chuck snorted, seemingly reading Thomas's mind. The brunette glanced at their guest, noting how Newt's palms seemed sweaty. Was he nervous? 'Oh god, Mom's probably creeping him out.'

"Sorry, sorry! I'll go finish dinner. I do love your accent though Newt, it's endearing!" She sang cheerily, skipping off to the kitchen. Thomas had no idea why, but she did seem very happy. Maybe it was because Thomas hadn't liked someone for so long, and she liked Newt. Whatever it was, Thomas wanted more off it. He hadn't seen his mom that happy since Chuck came home when he was six and announced he had given some girl in his class a haribo ring and she'd say yes. The man decided that she was more of a sucker for romance than he had anticipated. Thomas took Newt's jacket off of him, and hung it up on the thin coat hanger in the corner of the slim hallway, before gently tapping the blonds knuckle. Sorry.

The three made their way into the cramped kitchen. Even though their father had left them a hefty inheritance, his mother had refused to move out of the worn down, small, two bed house that Thomas had grown up in. She said it was cozy, and loving. 'The house has loved us when times got rough, I don't see why I should move out now that she's a little worn and old. I love her' She had told him once. Thomas didn't mind, not at all. It was small, and everything was squished up and falling apart, but his mother and Chuck got on just fine on their own. They filed into the small kitchen.

The countertops, oven, fridge and sink lined the walls, a small, four seater table sat in the middle of the room. Mary weaved her way in-between the furniture, the cramped kitchen causing her some difficulty. But she moved with familiarity, scooping the vegetables from a pot onto four plates and then setting it into the sink. Thomas and Chuck took their usual seats around the table, the younger boy at one end of the table, Thomas sat at one side. Newt sat himself opposite Thomas as the mother put down the food: A chicken kiev each with chips and vegetables, and set down drinks: A diet coke for Chuck, a beer for Thomas and Newt, and a small red wine for herself. Then she sat down at the other end of the table, opposite Chuck. She watched for a moment as the three began to eat. After a moment of silence, the brit spoke up.

"I have to say Ms Greene," he had obviously forgot what the woman had told her earlier, but she just smiled fondly, "your cooking might even be better than Tommy's." Chuck barked out a laugh, distracting the blond as Mary exchanged a glance with her eldest over the nickname, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling. Thomas just glared at her, sinking down a little in his chair.

"Well, thank you dear. Thomas has learnt from the best." She grinned at the man, who chuckled back.

"He cooks better than me, that's for sure." He ate his peas.