Newt/Thomas Sangster One Shots (warning: smut)

One shot #25 ~ Improvisation

"I'll see you later," Thomas waved to his old work colleagues. They waved back, some a little more drunkenly than others. I smiled and held his hand. I wasn't exactly sure what to do as I didn't know them all that well, but they were all at least tipsy so they wouldn't even notice. He turned to me, giving a quick glance, before leading out of the door and out of the buzz of the restaurant, into the cold parking lot.

"How were they?" He gleamed.
"They seemed really nice," I smiled back, though I hadn't really been paying attention for the whole evening. My mind was somewhat elsewhere.

I was frustrated, and impatient. I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the same morning, my mind glossing over it like a video clip on replay.

I'd been sat in the kitchen, just about to make some breakfast, when he strode in and took my hand. Without saying even a word, he pulled me close and we kissed far to passionately for that unholy hour of the morning.

TL;DR — we almost did it. Almost. But I had to be somewhere, I had plans. It was almost painful to have to turn him down, so now, after having thought about it all blooming day, I was frustrated and impatient. The one and a half hour drive home made me feel restless.

I slammed the car door shut as the engine sprung to life. I watched the dark fields and restaurants and city lights in the distance scroll past me as I tried to distract myself.

"You're awful quiet, love," Thomas broke the silence, concerned.
"Am I?" I replied unenthusiastically.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "You've been pretty quiet all evening actually, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said unconvincingly.

"I don't believe you— and I think I know what it's about," he said, almost smugly.
"Oh?" I turned from the window to face him. "And what would that be?"
"It's about this morning, isn't it?" He replied with a knowing half smile. I sighed.
"How'd you know?"
"With you, I always know the difference between stressed and angry, and simply...," he paused, his lips curling into somewhat of a smirk, "frustrated,"
"I regret making plans so early in the day," I repented. "I'm sorry,"

"Why are you apologising? It'll probably just make it better when we do it later." He winked.
"You're really not helping," I joked.
"Who said I'm trying to?"

I sunk down into my seat. There was an hour and a half left, Thomas sat next to me with an obvious boner, and me being pathetic about a stupid thing that happened about fourteen hours ago.

We sat in silence for around thirty minutes, the odd exchange of glances or short interactions here and there. No matter what I tried to distract myself with, my mind kept on turning back to not only what had already happened — but what was going to happen. It was almost unbearable.

"Could you maybe drive a little faster?" I spoke up quietly.
"I'm already doing seventy, love," He spoke. He had obviously already had the same idea.
I let out a huge huff of air.

"Shit," He cursed.
"What is it?"
"There's been an accident. No one was injured, but apparently there's a massive holdup on the motorway," he read from the traffic update on his phone, "it says the holdup should be around another half hour,"
"Are you serious?" I asked, a mix of emotions surging.
He turned to me and nodded. We were both thinking the same thing. What if one of us was too tired by the time we got home? I could already feel my eyelids getting heavy. Never mind me, I wasn't going to make him wait two times in one day. No way.

"Yeah," he swallowed and gripped the steering wheel. I could tell he was feeling it too, the frustration and impatience, from the way his knuckles were turning white and his jaw was tensing.

I shut my eyes and sighed. Why now? Why couldn't we just get home on time? I crossed my leg over the other to try and ease the tension, but it was futile. No one but him could do that, and I knew it.