°Newtmas One-shots ;)°

°Sick°

(Newt's POV)🌚

He leaned back against the pillows, drained. Newt still felt nauseous, even after emptying everything from his stomach just a few moments ago.

He brought a shaky hand up to his sweaty hair, combing it back. Newt slowly sat up, grabbing the napkin from the bedside table. He wiped his mouth. As much as he wanted to brush his teeth right now, Newt would most likely collapse.

Someone had lightly tapped on the door, causing Newt to look up. Thomas had appeared, rolling up his sleeves. Must have just got back from work.

"Well, well, well." He walked over to the bed, kneeling down. He almost stepped in the vomit bucket.

Newt blinked blindly at him, shrugging. He was so tired, he didn't know what to say.

Thomas brought a hand up to Newt's forehead, causing Newt to jerk away. "Your hand's freezing cold." He whined.

Thomas grinned at him, grabbing the napkin from Newt's hand and wiping away vomit off his cheek.

"Have you ate anything?" He asked softly. Newt shook his head, pointing at the bucket.

"Haven't been able to keep a bloody thing down."

Thomas nodded, tossing the napkin into the trash. He stood up, brushing away the hair that fell in Newt's eyes. Then he walked out of the room.

Newt put his head in his hands. He felt horrible. His entire body was on fire, he couldn't keep anything down, he was tired and felt as though his eyes were going to fall out of his head.

Newt groaned as he felt a hand remove his head from his own hands, leaning his head back. A cold damp cloth was then pressed on his forehead. Newt leaned fully back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

"Feel a bit better?" He heard Thomas chuckle. Newt nodded.

He felt as the mattress slowly went down from the added weight. Newt felt a pair of hands massage his temples. He didn't know how Thomas did it. Thomas always seemed to know what he needed.

A pair of lips gently kissed his cheek, Newt shivered from the sudden touch. He brought a hand up to the cloth, holding it in place.

"Have you been drinking water?"

Newt opened his eyes, seeing Thomas look around the bedroom for a glass cup or bottle. Newt shook his head, now realizing his throat was extremely dry.

Thomas looked at him, shaking his head. He sat up, walking out of the room. The sound of the tap running water followed. Newt sat up, still holding the cloth on his forehead.

Thomas came back in, holding a glass of water and a bottle of water. He placed the bottle on the table and handed Newt the glass. Newt took a sip.

"Drink it all."

Newt looked at him. "I'm fine." He crocked out.

Thomas took the glass cup out of Newt's hand, putting it back up to his lips. "I will force this down your throat, Newt."

Newt rolled his eyes, gulping down the water as Thomas removed the cloth. He passed the cup to Thomas, leaning his head back against the bed frame.

Thomas placed the cup on the side table and got up, smiling at Newt. Newt closed his eyes, feeling just a little better. He reopened his eyes when he felt a cold rag on his forehead.

Newt hummed, sinking down from the frame onto the pillows. He pulled the blankets up, Thomas helping. Thomas leaned down, kissing Newt on the lips. It was just a small peck, Newt tried to lengthen it, but Thomas didn't want to get ill.

"Now get some sleep before you throw up stomach acid." Thomas squeezed his hand, before walking back to the door.

"I can't promise you." Newt mumbled, closing his eyes just as Thomas closed the door softly.