A/n: If I wrote every Newtmas story that I had an idea for, I'd already have ten more. Anyways, thank you all for the reviews. They're all great.

Universe: Unspecified.

Pairing: (Potential) Newt/Thomas, very minor Gally/Alby and Thomas/Teresa

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, don't bother to sue. This is slash, don't even bash. (:

There was an unspoken rule in the Glade. Don't talk - too loudly - at night, when others were trying to sleep, especially when most of them had to get up early to start working. As it were, some of the Gladers had to change positions, some alternating to sleeping inside the Homestead while others were placed outside. There was no reasoning for this order, it just happened. Being used to a softer mattress and not the hard ground beneath, Newt wiggles on his back before slipping over onto his side. He could hear quiet whispers to his right, behind his back. The lanky blond moves and pulls a pillow up and over his head, hoping to snuffle out the noise. It proved useless, because he could still hear their chatter, although dully. He sighs loudly through his nose and throws his pillow off, which earns a stunned silence.

Thank the Creators, he thinks quickly before closing his eyes and hoping to get some more sleep when a noise disturbs him.

"Anyways, what do you think is up with that girl?" Chuck. Newt wants to smack his head against the ground. He just wants to sleep - was that too much to ask for? "It seems weird, she shows up and everything is wacked." The lanky blond scuffs his feet further into the warm recesses of his blankets, wiggling his toes and trying to bring a heavy warmth to his skin.

"Better than everybody going around thinking it's my fault," comes Thomas' murmur, thick with sleepiness. Newt rolls over and cranes his head, seeing the shorter boy scrub at his eyes, as if trying to wipe the grit from it. His eyes are glassy in the darkness with such limited light, with the artificial stars shining dully overhead. His hair looks like strokes of ebony paint on a canvas. Newt can't help but notice that because Thomas hadn't spent as much time in the sun as them, his skin looked like moonlight. Way to shucking go, thinking of the boy like a beauty magazine, Newt rolls his eyes before snuggling further into his blanket, as if it might help him sleep.

"Eh, Gally thinks it's all your fault, anyhow." There's a blissful couple of seconds of silence, which makes the tall boy think that they've finally drifted to sleep, but then Chuck continues, "Not that I can blame him. You and that girl caused a whole klunkload of trouble." Thomas audibly snickers, although it's followed quickly by a yawn. Newt drapes his arm across his face, and instead focuses on the pulse of his own heartbeat, a slow and steady sound that calms him enough to fall into a doze.

"Well, at least you guys can't say nothing interesting hasn't happened, huh?" Chuck laughs at that and Newt considers grabbing his pillow that tumbled somewhere to the right to toss at them, because unlike them, some of them actually had to get up in the morning. As the second in command, he had to oversee what everyone else did before he resumed his own duties. His ankle gives off a phantom pain that causes him to twinge, kicking off some of the blankets in the process but the two loud shucks in the corner don't seem to notice, let alone give it their attention.

"Sure, sure. You sure you don't know her, anyhow? Alby was gettin' on my case about getting you to remember, so he wanted me to remind you before you fell asleep. Does she seem familiar?" Newt sighs into the crook of his arm and resigns himself to his fate - he isn't getting any sleep anytime soon with them yapping away. He rolls over onto his back and wriggles his ankle into a more comfortable position so the pinpricks of needles don't bother him too much. If he has to listen to their conversation while he tries to fall asleep, well, he might as well be comfortable.

Thomas sighs, "No. I mean, kind of. I feel like I knew her from before, somehow, but I .. she's familiar." His ear pricks at that comment - Alby wouldn't likely be pleased that the greenie withheld that piece of information. Not that it was Newt's place to inform him of that - they all had their secrets. Like what happened to my leg, he thinks hollowly, but before his mind spirals back into that dark place, Chuck's dazed comment jars him.

"Hm?"

"I mean, I think I feel this connection with her, like we were close." Yeah, well, she's a beauty; keep her close, Tommy, he thinks and crosses his arms, which felt like a ridiculous thing to do considering that he was laying down. His dark brows furrow and he entertains the thought of yelling at them to slim it, but he hadn't been the type to take the initiative and yell at someone just because he couldn't sleep. Besides, it seemed like everybody else was asleep, so there was no point. Unless they were listening, too...

Chuck snickers, a loud sound that jabs at Newt's nerves but only because he's tired and itching to succumb to sleep, "Oh, yeah? Well, you're lucky, having her as a girlfriend, then."

Thomas making a low choking noise at the back of his throat, "Woah, no, definitely not. I mean, maybe. But probably more like a sister, I think. Besides, I don't even know if I - she's beautiful but not like I'd want to date her or anything, she's not my type."

Chuck yawns, and Newt prays that that means that he's about to ask to go to sleep. Of course that doesn't happen because nothing ever goes right in Newt's life. "Yeah? Then what's your type?" Nobody needs to bloody know! Nobody cares what his type is. Newt rolls onto his stomach this time, crossing his arms and placing his head near his fists, which were clenching the empty space of where his pillow was usually located.

"I don't even know, all that's around here are guys, Chuck. Blond, maybe? Understanding? Patient? Someone who can put up with my klunk?" His voice wavered slightly as he listed off characteristics. "Someone who ... who smiles at my jokes, no matter how bad they are, someone who wants to do the best for everyone even if it's not the best for them - selfless, I mean."

"..Sounds like you're describing Newt, Thomas."

Newt's eyes flew open, and his whole body jerks in surprise, his chest stuttering as he breaths unevenly. What the bloody hell? He felt like he couldn't breath, his heart was hammering fiercely against his chest. His fingers dig crescents into his skin and dares to look over at them, dark silhouettes in the night. Chuck and Thomas were pressed together, to preserve heat of course, but enough distance for nobody to assume anything. There was no need for them to practically yell their conversation around the Homestead. It takes him a moment to realize that his face was set aflame, feeling like a heat had crawled under his skin like a disease and had settled there. His stomach fluttered like moths, each wingbeat matching his own heart.

"... Yeah, I know." A heavy breath from the brunette. "I shucking know." Newt finds himself watching the younger boy attentively, waiting for something - anything - that meant that he hadn't meant what he said. That he wasn't into Newt. Because then ... well, what then? Newt lets out a soft groan which becomes muffled by his arms, and he purposefully snuggles his head into the crevices of his arms again. It wasn't his right to eavesdrop in the first place - granted they were about as quiet as a herd of stampeding rhinos - so he had no right to think such ludicrous things about what Thomas was implying, even though it made his heart start a marathon.

"Does Newt know?" He shucking knows now, slinthead. He breaths out, trying to calm his heart. It doesn't seem to be effective, because at the greenie's voice his heart patters up again.

"Oh good grie- no. No. I don't - I can't ever tell him. What'd he ever think?" He'd be bloody well surprised, you shank. Newt mutters a curse beneath his breath and isn't particularly surprised to feel a warmth seep into his bones, as if his face had decided to make his whole body blush. What am I, a damsel? Stop blushing, idiot.

"He should know."

"No."

"Okay, well, that's your choice." A pause, "So, are you into Newt?" He absolutely one hundred percent did not need to listen to this, but he definitely wasn't getting any sleep now. He pops his head up over his arms and peer into the darkness, eyes half-lidded as he focuses in on something in the distance. Maybe if he forced his attention on something else, he could overlook the rest of the conversation and be on his merry way to dreamland, hopefully void of the pink-lipped, wind tousled, freckled, gorgeous piece of heaven he had ever seen. .. Not that he had a problem with dreaming about Thomas, of course. He'd just prefer to be without a problem in the morning.

"I don't know," Newt and Thomas breath in unison, deeply, "maybe? It's a strong possibility that I might like him, just a bit."

Chuck doesn't say anything for a while, and Newt doesn't attempt to fool himself into believing that he's fallen asleep. Luck had never been on his side, as evidently proven time and time again. "Good thing that it's not Gally, at least." Good that, Newt thinks with a harsh eye roll. Gally wasn't one for romantic endeavours; besides, it was entirely likely that he was into the leader of the Gladers. Newt scoffs into his skin, brows diving down. At least he has better control over his shuck mouth when Alby's around.

"Good that." Newt is startled back to their conversation, and he realizes that it's entirely possible that he had dozed just a bit, because then Chuck continues.

"So, you remember her from before?" The toned boy digs his fingers into the soil, drawing patterns of the sun and the sky, thinking of Thomas' confession, which still set his heart hammering. He focuses on the soil slipping beneath his fingernails, where it's already been caked. He tries to make sense of it; why would Thomas like him? Newt, of course, had instincts like most other boys, but that didn't mean he ever felt romantically attracted to someone like Thomas seemed to be claiming. He had a limp, for Creators' sake - who was attracted to someone who had had a physical ability in a world where physical health is all that matters? Where life and death is a constant reminder every day when the Runners pass into the Maze. He rubs at his tired eyes, feeling a burn creep along there.

Newt was a mess up - his hair was too long for this weather, his skin turned an unhealthy rose the first time he arrived before it darkened, his smile was crooked and uncertain, his movements sloppy when he's surprised. He's not even leader material - why would anyone like him?

"Yeah, I think so."

"Hm."

"You should tell Alby," comes a sleepier murmur. Newt finds his own breathing evening out, his eyelids growing heavier even though his thoughts are frantic and almost as fast as he had been when he'd been a Runner. He rolls over onto his side, his arm crushed beneath his weight until he wiggles it out from beneath him.

"Yeah, 'm going to do that," Thomas replies, trying to muffle his own yawn. The other boy tries to stifle an echo of the action.

"Good that," Chuck murmurs before he rolls over and buries his head under his pillow from the sounds of it. Wiggling his toes under his blanket again, he nestled his chin beneath the covers, eyes blinking tiredly. He could hear the pair of boys moving, getting comfortable, their breathing deepening. He opens his eyes, and stares up at the sky for a moment before uncoiling his legs from the position he was in before, a yawn parting his lips. His gaze drops to the ground, looking over towards where the two other Gladers were, and blinks in surprise when he notices Thomas gazing sleepily at him, but he doesn't jolt.

He unfurls one of his hands from beneath the covers and although his embarrassment rips through him, he makes a simple hand gesture of wiggling his fingers in a greeting. Thomas blinks at him slowly before a slow smile crosses his face, his features smoothing out and he almost looks at peace. He gives a slow nod of his head before he closes his eyes partly, looking at Newt through heavily-lidded eyes. It was probable that Thomas would later figure that they had simply woken him, instead of keep him up the whole night, and that it wasn't likely for him to figure that he had heard the whole conversation. No matter, it wasn't like he had felt the same way, right? Well, potentially. Thomas' confession gave room for doubt in his mind, and honestly, the other boy wasn't bad looking, with a gentle smile and mussed hair - he could potentially see himself with him, if what Thomas felt was true.

He notices Thomas fall asleep the next time he opens his eyes, and thinks that maybe, even if nothing ever happened between them, they'd still be as good friends as they were. But he'd definitely tell them to slim it the next time he was out here - he definitely can't have another restless night. With that somber thought, he falls asleep, echoes of the conversation leaving an imprint on his mind. He dreamt of nothing but the possibility of warm touches.

For now, all was well.