Work Text:
I don't wanna get older
Without your head on my shoulder.
Paradise has always been an unfamiliar concept to Newt.
Days spent trapped inside the same walls for what were literal years tend to do that to someone. Unable to see past beyond those damned, intimidating walls that caged him in like a damned animal, towering over him. It's hard to envision a paradise when all you've ever known was a jail.
Now, he's out of that jail. He's survived everything he's been through. And, he's now safely residing in a literal paradise. But, despite being unable to fully understand the concept of paradise, he knew that wasn't his real 'paradise'.
His paradise isn't the beautiful land he's standing over right now, with its wonderful view of the blue, rolling ocean, vast and as old as this earth. This land with its beautiful, white sand. This land that promises so much for the future. No, this isn't what his paradise is. Instead, it's in front of him in the form of Thomas and their newly adopted son. The sun has just begun rising, and the slightly open window of their cottage gave light to the brunette, showing him smiling down at Arthur, the child's blonde hair shining under the sun's peek from the window.
On the day that you leave me,
I'll forever be bleeding, love.
" Tommy, " the blonde started, his voice soft and dripping with fondness. " Arthur's not gonna be havin' a proper sleeping pattern if ya keep hoverin' over him, demanding a cuddle. "
Thomas, clearly not expecting Newt to be awake yet, startles and jumps, pressing Arthur closer to his chest in a protective manner. Instantly, upon realizing it was just the blonde, Thomas eases up and glares at Newt with no real heat, and Newt stifles a silent chuckle. " Jesus, Newt, you almost gave me a heart attack. " He exclaimed dramatically, and Newt was sure if Thomas wasn't holding their son, he'd be placing a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture.
" Now you know what I feel everytime you do something stupid. " The blonde retaliates, moving across the room to get close to his tiny family– and doesn't that word do wonders to his heart. He tries to take their son from the brunette to place him back down to his makeshift crib that Gally made as a gift, but Thomas stubbornly wouldn't give him.
Newt rolls his eyes, " Love, you have to let him sleep. "
" He is sleeping! "
" In his own crib. "
" But darling, look at him–he's so content here, held by his papa. Aren't you, bug? " Thomas made a small 'boop!' sound when he quickly boops Arthur's tiny nose, making the one-year old scrunch his face and opening his blue eyes.
" Oh no no no no no, " Thomas starts when the child starts to wail, expression panicked. " I'm so sorry, bug–I didn't mean to wake you–! "
As forever comes closer,
Hope the world will spin slower.
Newt laughs at the scene and how panicked his lover is. He takes Arthur from his bumbling husband and starts gently cooing at him, rocking him and trying to calm him down.
That had worked, fortunately. It took around maybe two or three minutes, but he'd managed to subdue their son's cries. He really didn't want to get complaints about loud crying this early in the morning. He settled down to sit on the makeshift sofa they have in their nursery, Thomas following suit and wrapping his arms around his two blondes.
" Your papa has been a proper nuisance to you, hasn't he? " The blonde said, looking at his son who is simply looking up at him with a wonder that children his age have, and he wishes he could forever be under that gaze. " Not letting you sleep properly because he's clingy, isn't he my beautiful boy? "
" He loves my cuddles! "
" Not when he's being woken up by them, "
" This little angel is too adorable for me to resist, though. " Thomas states and gently tickles their son, earning him a soft giggle. The child held both hands up, and each of them took hold of them. And Thomas is right–Arthur was too adorable to resist, and Newt found himself kissing the child from arm to cheek, and that, too, elicited a laugh from the one-year old.
I don't wanna get older,
I don't wanna get older.
When he looks up, he gets thrown off by the immense fondness that Thomas' look gives him. He should be used to it, he knows. It's the same fond look he gave that night in the Glade. The same one that night in the Scorch when Thomas felt lost, and he had talked to him. Really, he should be used to it.
He doesn't think he will ever be used to it.
Newt closes the gap between him and Thomas, Arthur happily gurgling random noises as in Newt's arms as they show each other their love, lips perfectly fitting together like puzzle pieces–and that's what the three of them are, one whole puzzle piece, and Newt doesn't ever want to stop being whole.
Thomas' arm snakes around his waist, holding his little family as close as he can, his hand firm around Newt's stomach and his other hand gently touching Arthur's head. The couple had stopped kissing by then, and Arthur started grabbing their attention by grabbing at Newt's face. Newt laughs and imitates a biting motion that gets the little child giggling happily. Thomas watches on with the same fond smile.
Stare at the photograph,
Suddenly takes me back.
The promises roll off your breath,
In your cocaine-coloured wedding dress.
" I still think you need more sleep, mister. " Newt said, kissing Arthur's blonde head and standing up. The sun has risen at this point, no longer dusk in paradise. The entire cottage has been lit up, and they can already hear people outside, along with the birds that fly overhead north towards wherever they wish they could be. Free.
Arthur frowns as if he understood those words and looks at his other father, whining in that way that looked like he was pleading. All Thomas did was laugh and stand up too, kissing his son the same way Newt did before hugging Newt from the back.
" Sorry bud, daddy's right. "
The child was distraught after that, starting to make a fuss with wails that increasingly got louder, bouncing around the wooden walls of their cottage.
Lost in the day to day,
You kiss away the pain.
Oh everytime you twist my lips,
My dear devoted delicate.
Newt sighs at this, looking back at Thomas with a glare that says 'This is your buggin' fault,' and Thomas just smiles– the bastard–and gives the blonde a peck on the lips.
Five months of having Arthur meant that they both know how to calm their kid down, however. The child loves the beach, happily giggling every time the rolling waters hits his tiny little body, loves the dogs that they have around Paradise–Newt and Thomas felt a little bit nervous about that, fearing that the child would set off one of the dogs and get bitten, but Brenda reassured them that Arthur is a natural with dogs, 'cause apparently they love him–and he bloody loves airplanes. The first time he'd seen the berg up close, they thought he'd cry the moment its engines started making its sounds. But they were utterly surprised by the delight that he had.
Another thing that Arthur loves, is both of their voices.
There had been a storm in Paradise last month, the heavy rain, the booming thunder, and the harsh seas, all of it loud and deafening and scary for the only recently turned one year old. He'd cried and cried, and Newt was close to crying himself too. Desperately trying to calm his son down to no avail, he had turned to Tommy with his eyes begging for help.
Tommy had taken Arthur in his arms, shushed him once, twice, while rocking him, and had used his ultimate weapon.
" I don't wanna get older, without your head on my shoulder… " Thomas sang the song that they both heard while they had their monthly supply run back at the Scorch where they'd stumble upon a small group–he remembers hearing it being sung by two guys, one tall and blonde, the other shorter with darker hair. They'd both listened to their song, their love for each other , strong, unmovable, and they were entranced–in a way he's only ever heard once or twice, but by God, he doesn't want to go another day without hearing it. " On the day that you leave me, I'll forever be bleeding, love. "
Arthur's crying had ceased then, his blue eyes looking up at his father with such wonder that he knew Tommy's knees almost gave in, but he didn't stop singing.
It was all so…overwhelming. Right then and there, through the storm just outside their walls–though it's long since been forgotten, drowned by the sounds of his love–is the moment he's found his true Paradise.
It was all so overwhelming. He doesn't want to let go.
"It's not worth it if I lose my one-way ticket for two,"
They had sung together through the night, Arthur giggling with delight when Newt joined in and Thomas looked at him with so much love and fondness, and he stared back, unable to look away, eyes conveying all the emotions he's feeling. Love, contentment, relief, happiness.
That night, the little family huddled and slept through the storm peacefully, safe and warm in each other's arms, just how they will always be forever.
Just me, just you.
" Want daddy to sing you a song, bug? Hm? " Newt said, and almost instantly, Arthur stopped his wails, misty eyes looking at him demandingly–he's afraid of the day their son grows up and realizes he's got them proper wrapped around his fingers and completely exploits that to his advantage–and Thomas laughs, sharing his son's need to hear Newt.
Newt rolls his eyes and cranes his neck to the side to look at Thomas, who was still draped over his back, hugging from behind. " You're singing too, you prat. I think your son would like to hear that song again. "
" We gotta give him more songs to listen to. Expand his taste. "
" Are you depriving your son of his favourite song? "
Thomas smiles, mumbling a " Never, " under his breath, kissing Newt and Arthur both on the cheek, and leans his head to rest on Newt's shoulder. And as he gets ready to sing along with Thomas, his heart never ceasing its steady yet firm beats that screams of love, he's content.
This is where he's meant to be, all his life. It's almost gotten him killed to get here, lost many people, almost lost the love of his life. But he's here, finally. He's at home now.
He's in Paradise, and it's beautiful.
"Our love is tailor made,
But we let the edges fade.
Your wicked smile, it says it all.
Mixed with my sad and cynical.
No tragedy at the end,
No nothing Shakespearean.
It all comes flooding back again.
My dear devoted delicate. "