You had your clothes bundled in your arms. You would say you were struggling to hold them all, but truthfully, there wasn't much, and you were doing a perfectly good job of keeping them off the floor. But just as you were about to make your way outside to wash them, you stopped short when you decided you should probably also wash the clothes you were wearing, to get them all done at once. That'd only be possible if...
Suddenly and rather unceremoniously you dropped all your clothes to the floor (didn't matter: they were dirty anyway) and scratched your head, twisting this way and that to see if anyone had a stray shirt laying around that you could borrow. Just for the day.
Your eyes scanned the room before settling on a roughed up long-sleeve half hanging off a hammock-it looked like Newt's. You stepped over your pile of clothes and made your way to the hammock. Grabbing the shirt up, you gave one last glance to the entrance of the Homestead to make sure no one was coming in before stripping out of your clothes and into the shirt.
It hung like a dress on you, stopping at mid-thigh. You had to push the sleeves up to your elbows because they were so long, but even then they would slide down if you set your arms back down to your sides. Satisfied nonetheless, you grabbed your shirt and shorts and threw them into the bundle of your other clothes before picking them all up and heading outside to clean them.
You hoped Newt wouldn't mind. You'd have it back before the end of the day!
---
Newt caught movement in his peripherals from where he was working, and he allowed his gaze to slide over to the disturbance. He squinted slightly, trying to figure out who it was, and then he realized it was you. You were hanging up clothes along the clothesline to dry, though... you... weren't wearing any pants?
He quickly averted his gaze upon this realization. What were you doing? Did it ever occur to you that you were in a Glade filled entirely by boys? As he quickly glanced over to look at you again, he decided that no, that thought had never occurred to you. Not once.
Perhaps he'd give you credit if he knew you were cautious to not raise your arms too high while you carried on with your task, as to ensure the shirt wouldn't ride up. But he didn't know that, because you were there and he was all the way over here.
He was quite sure every other boy has already seen you and your bold choice of clothing, and the third time he looked at you, he actually took in what you were wearing. And who it belonged to, more specifically.
He stopped working then, head tilting as he watched you.
Hey, he thought. Isn't that shirt mine?
You turned around with your last shirt in hand to hang, and he saw the familiar hood on the shirt you were currently wearing.
He nodded. Definitely his.
He began to wonder where you could have found it, but then he caught another boy staring at you. He lightly hit their shoulder and motioned them back to work, before carrying on with his own. Looks like he'd have to ask later.
---
It was dark and the fire was blazing when dinner was served. The boys gathered around the heat and cracked jokes and made merry, as boys do. Gally had started a small wrestling circle, taking on any challengers and easily defeating them before moving on to the next. Minho sat quietly with a few other runners far enough a way from the crowd to enjoy casual conversation but close enough to the fire to keep from freezing. Thomas and Alby indulged in a conversation of their own, laughs and jokes exchanged between the two of them.
Newt, however, had gone to the Homestead to retrieve something, and was rummaging through his belongings for it when he heard someone step inside and gently exclaim "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were in here." He twisted around and caught sight of you standing in the doorway, your now dry clothes in hand. This was the first time he'd seen you up-close all day and he had no qualms in admitting you looked damned good in just his shirt. He wondered if you knew it was his.
He shook his head, smiling. "No, you're fine." You smile back at him before walking to where your hammock was and dropping your clothes down onto it. You could fold them later. But dinner was calling and your stomach was more than ready for it.
"Nice shirt, by the way." At this, your eyes shot over to Newt. His voice had a teasing lilt to it. He was smirking and his bright eyes looked very amused. You felt your cheeks getting warmer as you looked down, anxiously fingering the hem of the worn fabric. "If I had known my clothes looked that good on you, I would've let you wear them a long time ago."
Your smile widened slightly, then, and you walked over to where he was still stood in the same spot. You didn't fail to miss the way his eyes slid down your form before making their way back up to meet your amused gaze. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and almost instinctively his came around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The shirt rode up, exposing your rear, but Newt didn't mind. He was too distracted by your lips gently setting themselves on his.
"Maybe I just won't take this off then. I quite like it too." You murmur breathily as Newt's lips trail along your jaw and down your neck. One of his hands slid down to your rear and squeezed, pushing you against him even more, and you moaned lightly at the friction.
His hands made their way beneath the shirt, and you stiffened slightly at his cold hands sliding against your heated skin. You didn't see him casting a glance at the entrance to make sure no one would come in (good thing it was dinnertime) before he slowly slid the shirt up your torso.
"I'd be inclined to agree," he began lowly as he planted a kiss at the base of your neck which you had exposed to him, "but I think it would look even better off."
You giggled quietly. Tease.
"You know... I like that idea."
Dinner could wait.
