"Brenda kissed me."

Newt tensed slightly at the first words spoken since he and Thomas had found their way to the rock outcropping above the encampment. He turned his head slightly to see Thomas staring out across the desert expanse.

"Did she now?" was all he could manage around the lump forming in his throat. Thomas nodded absently, his fingers drawing patterns on the rock beside his sprawled legs. His back rested against the thick wall backing the outcropping and after the nod, his head fell back to join it.

"In the city. In that bar."

Newt let his own head drop onto his drawn up knees, keeping his face turned toward the other boy. "And?" he offered into the silence that followed Thomas' statement.

"And…I guess she was as stoned as I was," he said wryly. "We both had that klunk that Marcus made us drink." Thomas fell silent again.

"So you think that's all it was? The drink?" Newt knew it was stupid, but his heart lifted just a bit at that notion.

Thomas shrugged, dropping his gaze from the horizon to his fingers, beside him. Newt thought the shadows that put on his face made Thomas look slightly fragile. He hated it. Hated anything that made Thomas look less like the shucking amazing hero he was. He hated that Brenda had put that hesitant sound in his voice. He hated that she'd put her bloody lips on his.

"So, what'd you do?" He hoped his voice didn't sound as strained as it felt.

Thomas let out a snort of laughter. "I hallucinated that she turned into Teresa." Wonderful. There was a slinthead Newt would rather Thomas have no thoughts about ever again. "I said, 'You're not her,' and Brenda ran off."

Newt bit his lip; first to keep from laughing at poor Brenda's misery—competing against a hallucination—and second, from crying over his own misery—competing against not one, but two girls. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose. "So…how was it?" he forced out.

Thomas met his eyes for the first time, frustration and laughter both pooled in their whiskey depths. "How do you think it was?" He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. "It was…it was over so quick, I really don't know. I mean, I felt like klunk for saying something like that to Brenda's face, but…but I wasn't lying." He shrugged again and dropped his hand, lolling his head on the rock to look at Newt. "I like her. Brenda. But I don't, you know…ilike/i her."

Newt nodded, his cheek rubbing against the rough material of his trouser leg. "And Teresa?" he asked softly.

Grief and shame were painted all over Thomas' face. "Then? Or now?" he asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

It was Newt's turn to shrug. "Either. Both."

Thomas closed his eyes, seeming to shrink into himself. Newt grit his teeth at the pain just the memory of that horrid girl caused Thomas. "Then, it seemed like a dream. That's how I knew I was hallucinating. Teresa would never have…," his voice trailed off and he paused for a long moment before opening his eyes again. "Now? Now it's like a nightmare. To think that I wanted…that I, for one minute considered…"

He shook his head and dropped his gaze in defeat. "She's a traitor of the worst sort. And it's my fault, all of it, for trusting her: the raid, Minho, Aris, the people that were killed. Because I believed…" he sighed. "I believed…something. I don't even know."

Newt lifted his head and glared. "It's not your fault, Tommy. You didn't know. You icouldn't/i have known what she was going to do. This is all on her head. Don't you blame yourself for one shucking minute, you hear me?"

Thomas glanced back up at Newt and smiled weakly. "You're a good friend, Newt."

Newt smiled back brightly, hoping he was the only one who could hear the crack that just ran through his heart. "And don't you forget it, shank."

Thomas chuckled. "So, how about you?"

Confused, Newt frowned. "How about me, what?" Thomas picked up a sliver of rock and tossed it with a growl. Newt slapped it away and laughed. "Seriously, what are you talking about?

With a sigh and an eyeroll, Thomas shook his head. "Kissing," he said, pointedly. "As in, have you ever kissed anyone?"

The smile practically fell off of Newt's face, and he tensed again. "Um, you lose your memory again, Tommy-boy?"

A line furrowed Thomas' brow. "No?"

"Cause, I've lived in the Glade for the last three years, remember?" Newt tried to force a laugh again, but he was pretty sure it just came out as a wheeze. Thomas still looked confused. "Just me and a few dozen iboys/i?" Newt stressed.

"So?"

Now, the laugh burst out of Newt's lungs like an explosion. "So, who was I supposed to practice on, shank?"

The blush that rolled over Thomas' face was visible even in the fading light. "I dunno," he mumbled. "Alby? Minho, maybe?"

"Y—?" Newt cut himself off before he could finish. He frowned thoughtfully, watching as Thomas began to fidget with the tiny rocks at his side again. Taking a deep breath, he chose his words carefully. "You don't care that we were all boys?"

Thomas jerked one shoulder up in a brief shrug. "Don't suppose it matters, does it? Comfort is comfort, right?" he mumbled.

Newt nodded slowly, before realizing that, since Thomas was pointedly not making eye contact, he couldn't see. "Good that," he agreed. "Just didn't know if you'd feel the same about it. Specially since, well…Teresa, and all."

Thomas' eyebrows drew together even as he looked back up at Newt. "Comfort is the last thing I'd associate that slinthead with."

A chuckle escaped Newt, and Thomas' eyebrows moved even closer to one another. "What the shuck are you laughing at?"

Newt finally let go his legs, allowing them to drop to the ground as he waved a hand vaguely in the air. "It's just that when you first mentioned her, I called her the same thing in my head."

The frown slowly dissipated, to be replaced by a wry grin. "I guess great minds think alike," he agreed.

"Do they?" Newt wanted to bite his tongue off as the question escaped his lips before his brain could approve it.

"Whaddya mean?" Thomas returned, curiously.

It was Newt's turn to briefly close his eyes as he fought the desire to drag his legs back up and wrap his arms protectively around them. "I just…I mean…" He sighed. "I was just wondering if you…liked boys…too?"

"Too?" Thomas questioned. "You mean do I want to kiss boys, too?"

"Yeah." Newt sucked in a deep breath. "Boys, or…or me?"

Thomas seemed to stare directly into Newt's soul, and the silence terrified him. Had he ruined it? Ruined everything he had built with the other boy? Was this the end of the easy friendship, the deep bond that had grown between them in such a short time?

"Do you want me to kiss you, Newt?" Thomas finally asked, softly. Newt could only stare, wide-eyed, uncertain of how to respond. He felt his eyes sting and willed himself not to start crying like a shucking baby. "Is that what you're asking?" Thomas continued.

"I don't—" Newt's voice ground to a halt, the air stopping dead before it could reach his lungs.

"You don't…what?" Thomas tilted his head, questioningly, his voice gentle.

"I don't—" Newt tried again. His throat felt like hands were wrapped around it.

"You don't want me to kiss you?" Thomas offered up.

"I don't want you to hate me," Newt finally managed, unable to do more than whisper. "Please."

Thomas looked pained by his reaction. "Newt, I could never hate you. Why would you even think that?"

Newt nearly gasped his next breath out. "Because I want you to..."

"Want me to what? Kiss you?" Newt could only manage a hitched nod. Thomas' smile spread across his face like a sunrise. "You know what I was thinking, just before I told you about Brenda?" Newt shook his head fiercely, desperately holding onto that smile, just in case he never saw it again.

"I was wondering that, if you'd kissed me instead of Brenda, if I still would have thought about Teresa." The breath Newt couldn't get earlier now froze in his lungs. Thomas ducked his head shyly, looking up at Newt through dark lashes. "I dunno about then, but I know if you kissed me now, I wouldn't even remember her name."

"Tommy?" Newt breathed.

"So…if you wanted me to kiss you," Thomas continued, "I can guarantee you'd be the only one I was thinking about."

"Am I dreaming?" Newt wondered aloud.

Thomas chuckled again. "Well, if you are, I am too. And it's a pretty good one, so I wouldn't wake us up." He held his hand out. "Come here." Newt wavered, slightly bewildered at the new direction it seemed they were headed in. Thomas' smile softened even more. "Please?"

Newt was on his knees, halfway to Thomas' hand before he even realized he'd moved. He only hesitated a split second before sliding his hand into Thomas' warmer one. With a gentle tug, Thomas pulled Newt almost into his lap. He ran his other hand down Newt's thigh, carefully lifting the injured leg over his own, and tugged Newt down to sit, straddling his legs.

"Tommy, I…" Newt's mouth worked, but the words remained stuck behind his teeth.

Thomas freed his hand from Newt's only to grip Newt's hips tighter, and to tug him further into Thomas' lap, snugging Newt's legs up against his own hips. The pressure on his cloth-covered groin caused Newt to gasp.

"Okay?" Thomas inquired, a smirk growing on his face. Newt's eyes narrowed and he flicked Thomas in the forehead. "Ow!" Thomas laughed. "What was that for?"

"You know very well what that was for, you shank." But Newt's lips quirked just a bit, as well.

Thomas' smirk faded into a fond smile, and he slipped his arms up and around Newt's back, pulling him firmly against his chest. Newt came forward with a huff of air and his hands fluttered around Thomas' shoulders for a brief moment before they settled, butterfly soft, next to his neck.

"You can touch me, you know," Thomas said.

"And just where would you like me to touch you, Tommy?" Newt poked the side of Thomas' neck with his index finger.

Thomas shrugged, adjusting Newt again, so that every inch of their chests were now touching. "I'd like you to touch me anywhere you can get your hands on. In any way you'd like to touch me." Newt flushed a little at the open-ended offer. Nonetheless, he slid slightly shaking hands up Thomas' neck and sank them into the soft brown cloud of hair.

Thomas' eyes slid shut momentarily, and he sighed happily. "I like that," he whispered.

"Me, too," Newt replied, just as quietly. He scratched gently at the nape of Thomas' neck, loving the nearly purring noise that emanated from the other boy's throat. In return, Thomas slid his arms up under the loose tunic Newt was wearing and hummed in pleasure as his arms met the soft skin of Newt's back.

"So, you seem to know what you're doing," Newt let his head fall back as the meeting of their warm flesh caused goosebumps to rise over his arms. "Was something like this in those memories you got back?" He tried, but knew the jealous note in his voice was heard when Thomas chuckled.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Thomas replied, honestly. "I'm just doing what feels right." At that, he leaned forward and captured the pulse point on Newt's neck, suckling gently as he felt the moan through the soft skin.

One of Newt's hands freed itself from the confines of Thomas' hair, and made its way across his cheek down to Thomas' mouth. He traced the line of Thomas' lips where they were attached to his own skin. Thomas gave one final caress of his tongue against the saltiness of Newt's neck and attacked Newt's finger instead. He pulled the digit into his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, dragging his teeth over it carefully.

Newt's quiet moan turned into an audible whimper, and he unwittingly ground his pelvis down onto Thomas'. Thomas gasped, and Newt freed his finger, carefully tracing a wet line onto Thomas' lips. Thomas panted slightly, his mouth still opened.

"How about you? You seem to have an idea or two, yourself." Thomas' voice had turned gravelly in an instant, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.

Newt nipped at his finger and grinned toothily. "Just like you, I'm doing what feels right."

Thomas hummed his approval and stretched his neck up to place his lips millimeters from Newt's. Their shared breath made them both shiver, and for a long moment, they were lost in each other's eyes. "Can I kiss you, Newt?"

"I might die if you don't, Tommy," Newt breathed out.

Newt was certain those millimeters turned into miles, as it took forever for Thomas to breach the small valley between them. When he felt those soft lips touch his for the first time, his eyes slid closed. Thomas brushed across Newt's mouth, tracing its outline with his own, before settling in and gently increasing the pressure. Newt let an overwhelmed moan escape him, and Thomas replied by tightening his arms around Newt's back. His long fingers traced invisible patterns over the expanse of skin, and he ran them carefully over Newt's spine from neck to the top of his trousers.

Newt's head automatically tilted to accommodate Thomas' gentle assault and his free hand moved back to cup Thomas' cheek even as his previously occupied hand tightened in Thomas' hair. Thomas answered Newt's moan with one of his own and opened his mouth to nibble lightly on Newt's bottom lip.

As if Thomas had asked a verbal question, Newt's mouth dropped open and allowed immediate entrance. Thomas' tongue hesitantly met Newt's and it felt like electricity fizzled through the spot where the two joined. Thomas bucked up, and it was only his tight grip on Newt's waist that kept the other boy from being launched off.

Newt gave as good as he got, though, and ground down, rubbing their clothed groins together in a way that made the air hiss through Thomas' nose. Their tongues wrapped around each other, first in Newt's mouth, then in Thomas'.

When they broke apart for air, Newt gasped, tilting his head back to the open sky. Thomas attacked his neck, sucking tiny marks into the skin as Newt whimpered and used his grip on the other boy's hair to keep Thomas right where he was.

"Tommy!" he panted.

"Hmmm?" Thomas replied, his mouth otherwise occupied.

"I…I want…Tommy!" Newt moaned as Thomas pulled his pulse point in between his lips. "Please, Tommy…"

Thomas pulled away at the pleading tone and looked up with heavily hooded eyes. "Yeah?" he answered, moving in again to rub his nose up the column of Newt's neck and onto his cheek. "I'm listening. Honest. What did you want, Newt?"

Newt gasped out a laugh. "Shuck if I know, Tommy. I just wanted…I…I don't know. More?"

Thomas nibbled on Newt's jawline. "More what?"

"I don't know!" Newt wailed softly.

Thomas smiled against Newt's skin and heaved forward. Newt felt like he was falling for a brief moment, before he realized that Thomas had flipped them, and was now lowering Newt to the ground. He cupped the back of Newt's head as he laid him down; making sure to protect it even as he reverently placed Newt flat.

Once Newt was situated, Thomas sat up and reached behind his neck to strip his shirt off with one hand. He wadded it up and leaned back over, carefully lifting Newt's head then nestling it into the makeshift pillow. Thomas held his position a moment, his eyes following the planes of Newt's face, and then he leaned in to capture Newt's lips with his own.

As the kiss evolved, and tongues were introduced, Thomas swung his leg over Newt's body and straddled his hips. For long moments, the silence was broken only by the soft sounds of their mouths moving together, small huffs of air and tiny, almost imperceptible sounds of pleasure. Then, Thomas pulled his weight off of his arms and brought them both up and under Newt's shirt.

His long fingers religiously traced every inch of Newt's chest, moved down to sweep over his abs and then back up again so his nails could lightly scrape over Newt's nipples. Newt jerked, his back bowing a bit as he chased the feelings Thomas was raising in him.

"Take your shirt off," Thomas whispered against his mouth. Newt nearly dislocated an arm moving quickly to yank his shirt up and over his head. Though he smacked Thomas in the face with it, Thomas only grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Can I hope your pants come off just as fast?"

Newt mock frowned and smacked Thomas in the arm. "Get the hell back here and shut up, shank." He jerked Thomas back down, their bare chests sliding across one another as they sank into another long kiss. The sheer expanse of skin available and waiting for his touch was mind-boggling. Newt didn't know where to start.

Should he begin with the lightly freckled shoulders? The silky smooth upper back? The lower back, just now beginning to dew with sweat from their exertion? Should he pull his hands up front and rake his sensitive palms rake across Thomas' pebbled nipples? Or should he move lower; run his fingernails through the dark brown treasure trail that led straight to the one place causing the most brain-frying pleasure as it rubbed unerringly across his own crotch.

In the end, it didn't matter where he started, because he made sure to touch each place with reverence and repetition, loving how Thomas arched into his hands. "Oh, Tommy," he breathed into the space behind a delicate curved ear. "The things I want to do to you…I don't remember the names. I don't know if I've ever done them before. I don't know if I even really know how to do them. I just know I want to; all of them...to you."

He bit down on the muscle between neck and shoulder and reveled in the keening moan it drew. He slid his hand back down Thomas' silky treasure trail and, once he encountered material, his nimble fingers searched for the closures. Deftly, he unsnapped the button and lowered the zipper, freeing some space for his hand to slip in, to find the warm, moist flesh that caused Thomas to cry out and jerk his hips harshly.

"Newt, please," he cried.

With a slightly wicked smile, Newt wrapped his right hand around the hardness and squeezed yet another whimpering moan free from Thomas' throat. His left hand worked at his own trousers until he'd liberated his cock from its confines as well.

He adjusted them both; allowing their cocks to slide slickly past each other, and then ran his hands on a return course up Thomas' back, burying his hands in the dark hair. He held Thomas' head still so that he could plunder the depths of his mouth once more.

Thomas happily let Newt manipulate him, let him lead in the dance their tongues performed. He was himself preoccupied with driving his hips forward, rubbing their cocks together, letting the friction bring them closer and closer to the edge. Newt pushed his own hips up, meeting every downward stroke, desperately pursuing the tingle beginning at the base of his spine.

Thomas' hips began to stutter and his kisses turned to open mouthed gasps. Newt felt the warmth spurt across his stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth in a silent scream as he felt his own orgasm rush over him.

Small aftershocks ran through his body as Thomas collapsed on top of him, and he opened his eyes to see Thomas gazing at him in confused adoration. He couldn't help himself. He giggled. The confusion turned to indignation, but Thomas leaned in for one last, hard kiss before sliding off of Newt to lay heaving air beside him.

"Shank," he panted.

"So," Newt turned his head to smile slyly at the disheveled boy next to him. "What was her name?"

Thomas turned his head and frowned. "Whose name?"

With a satisfied grin, Newt tilted his head back upright and closed his eyes. "Good answer."