Good That

Newt's POV

In the morning, I woke up before Tommy, as usual. I hugged him close, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead before crawling off of the table to stretch and put some clothes on. It was bloody cold in the weapon's room, now that I wasn't enveloped in Thomas' arms. I gazed disdainfully at the pile of paper and klunk on the foot of the table. The mess was certainly worth it. "Rise and shine, ya shuckface," I whispered into Tommy's ear, tossing his clothes on top of him. "Just...five more minutes...," Tommy mumbled. I sighed, and poked him. "Goddamn it, wake up, we have things to do," I poked. Not to mention having to explain why there's such a mess in the weapons room and why there's a naked and disheveled Tommy lying on top of the table. "Only if you give me more kisses," Tommy smirked, and I pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "Now get up, for god's sake," I practically pulled him off of the table, forcing his shirt over his head. Tommy rolled his eyes and groaned a quick "all right," before finally getting dressed and picking up the papers, hastily trying to reorganize them into acceptable piles on the table. There was a sharp rap on the door, and I opened it carefully. Minho, and that bloody Teresa girl. "Teresa, go get some breakfast. It seems like these shanks are alive," Minho grinned, and Teresa slunk off. "Well, well, well. Had some fun, didn't ya? I could have sworn it sounded like someone was dying in here, or at least being tortured. 'Please, Tommy, please.' I swear, you guys are so loud. Next time you plan on doing that, tell us so we can ask the box for some earplugs," Minho smirked, pushing past me. My cheeks reddended slightly. This coming from the guy who had witnessed our first kiss and was mad at us for it for a while. Dear god. "Hope you used protection," Minho laughed. "Shut up, shuckface," Tommy threw a pebble at him in good fun. "Yeah, well, I came here to tell you Alby's feeling a bit better and also to ask you guys how far you got on the code," Minho randomly went through the papers, throwing some over his shoulder. "Float and Catch, and some other starts of words. No clue what they mean though," I ran my hand through my hair, catching Tommy's eye and grinning. Minho sorted out the papers quickly, humming in disdain and found some more words. Float, Catch, Bleed, Death, Stiff, and Push. Those were all the words and letters we had before the cycle renewed with the f from float. How ominous. A beetle blade scuttled over the table, illuminating the words with it's eerie red light from it's silver heenie.

Teresa came back with some bread and scrambled eggs, and Tommy slurped down his food in zero seconds flat, as if he'd been starving for over a week. I at least attempted in keeping my dignity by nibbling at my bread in a sophisticated manner, earning me some weird looks and snorts for my efforts. Ungrateful brats. Would they have preferred me to eat with my mouth open? I think not. We reported our findings to the others, Minho looking sort of proud and self-congratulatory, and Alby, who had just entered gave us weird looks. Alby made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I'd known him almost my whole life in the Glade. The feeling must be from having seen his head bashed in. Minho wanted the runners to go out again. That meant my Tommy. I argued with them, telling them that all we had to do was figure the code out. We already knew about the griever hole, since Minho had gone and checked it out after sprinting after the grievers.  Tommy told me to not worry about it, smiling, and to get everyone a weapon and a supply of food.  "Why?" I asked.  "We're leaving this place for good, and I think I know how to with the code," he said, before hugging me.  I trust you, he said, before adding that he hoped that I would bring with me the bow from that time when Ben was banished, which felt so long ago.  I assured him I would.