Newt/Thomas Sangster Oneshots

The Smoker And The Soccer Player (AU)

A/N: I DON'T SMOKE I SWEAR!!! Just read it, it'll all make sense. Trust me. This is just an experiment with some writing techniques. Also, sorry it took so long, so many projects going right now.... TDIFIL is almost done, though! ^_^ See you behind the screen, dustbunnies! Keep rockin!
Adrienne
Ps: for those of you who don't know, TDIFIL is my first fic, a maze runner Newt one.

I curl my fingers through the chain link fence of the soccer fields, my cigarette hanging loosely from my jaw. The city A team is practicing right now, for regional championships. The star players are usually the ones people focus on, Alby, Thomas and Minho, but a lot of people also really like Theresa, the only girl on the team. I only come to these things for one reason, one player: player 05, Newton Green. My best friend in the world, also the owner of the flat I live in. When he went pro, he bought an flat and I moved in with him. Newt notices me and races over as fast as he can. He points to my mouth (he hates it when I smoke), signalling for me to finish up. I take one last breath, spit the smoke out slowly and throw the cig butt into a nearby trash can, popping tictacs to hide the smokers breath. Newt arrives at the fence and links his hands through it, right over mine. I feel the butterflies exploding into my stomach, like vicious soldiers breaking into an enemy base. It's all I can do to keep myself from blushing.
"Shuck Adrienne. You just had one before we left, do you really need another?" He whines. I shrug.
"Sorry Newtie," I sigh. He shakes his head.
"That's your last one, hand them over," he commands. He controls my intake, and takes away my stuff when he thinks I've had enough. I comply, taking out my cigarettes and lighters, handing them over through the fence. He frowns as he pokes through my things.
"All of them," he pouts. I roll my eyes, but hand over the rest.
"There we are," he sighs in an exasperated manner. "If you get a craving, flag me down. I got Nicorette gum in my pocket." He runs back to the other players, and Alby shoves him onto the ground, laughing. The other players are quick to join in, playing a vicious game they call "Pound the Lizard." Newt tells me not to get involved, but I can't just watch. That's it. Something in me snaps, and I jump onto the fence, climbing over. I run to the huddle of players and dive through, tackling Alby, the ringleader. They may play British football, but I play real football. I turn to the group, a flame in my eyes. Some of them back up a bit, and some full on run away. Theresa never joined in there stupid game, but she would watch from the sidelines, unsure of what to do. I see a shock in her face, but I see that she is carrying the same flame in her eyes. She runs over and helps me pull the few remaining boys off of my Newt. He's in the fetal position, with a small cut under his eye and countless bruises on his face and arms. I pull him up and sling his arm around my shoulders, pulling him away. He looks up at me, and his face breaks my heart.
"I-I told you n-not to g-get involved," he murmurs.
"Ya, well, I got a craving," I grin. He nods lightly, and fishes through his pocket, finding the gum. Even in this state, he's looking out for me more then himself. His selflessness is why I love him. I shake my head, giving him a small, sad smile. We reach my car and I carefully settle him in the passengers side, buckling him up like a toddler. I hop into the drivers seat and the him back to our flat, dragging him into the elevator and into the little apartment. I set him down on the couch and look at him.
"Oh, Newtie," I sigh. "Arms up!" He lifts his arms weakly and I pull off his soccer shirt, examining the large bruise on the top left of his stomach. I sigh and carefully touch the bruise. Newt winces, and I pull my hand away.
"Newt, are there any injuries anywhere else?" He nods slowly and wriggles out of his sweat pants (he has shorts on underneath). I kneel and examine the bruises on his shins and a large one on his thigh.
"Newt, this is getting out of hand. You're a member of the team too, and the only reason you do worse than them is because you're too sore from them beating you up to run fast. We're telling the coach, whether you like it or not." He smiles sadly, but his lips tremble, and finally fall, as he bursts into tears. I cradle him gently, trying to console him.
"Oh, baby. You need to stand up for yourself, no matter how scary it is," I whisper. He nods, still crying. I pick him up and carry him to his bed, setting him gently under the covers and tucking him in. His sobs slowly decrease until he stops crying and starts snoring. I pull his desk chair over and sit for a few minutes before the stress overpowers me. I find his track pants and search the pockets, finding my things. I need a smoke.

TARDIS!! Five minutes later:
I blow out a smoke ring and feel a tap on my shoulder. I whirl around, all too ready to kill someone. Newt stands there, in nothing but his shorts, cowering.
"Crap. Sorry," I mutter, tossing the butt. I carefully place a hand over the bruise on his stomach, using it as an excuse to touch his glorious abs.
"I thought you were done?" He whispers. I shake my head.
"I-I needed one, Newt. You don't understand," I whimper, breaking down. He cups my face in his hands, making me looks up at him.
"You can stop. At anytime. You just need... motivation," he whispers. He leans forward and our lips connect, creating an unimaginable bliss. He pulls away and scrunches up his face. I frown as he spits a bit.
"Ew. Cigarettes are gross," he whines. I shake my head.
"I beg to differ! I like them."
"I won't kiss you again unless you stop," he pouts. I shake my head and smile, walking over to the trash can and tossing everything out.
"You don't have to go cold turkey!" He shouts.
"Yeah. I do," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"W-why?" He stutters.
"Withdrawal from you would be worse," I whisper.
"And your more addictive then cigarettes."

A/N: sorry it took soooo long. I'm up to my eyeballs in life!!