Work Text:
Alby smiled as he looked at Newt. The younger boy was still insisting he was fine. No need for the cane, no need to have help from him. It was only a few months after the incident, so Newt was still recovering. Even with the med-jack's recommendations, he refused to rest or stay down. He wanted to be by Alby’s side. He was his 2nd in command after all. And he couldn't stop that because of his stupidity. At least that's how Newt saw it. Alby looked at it as a moment of pain.
“Go back to the Homestead, Newt.” Alby barked. To everyone else, it sounded like he was ordering Newt around, just enforcing the rest ordered by Clint. The strong leader just doing his job. To Newt it was a softness not many showed. Newt, ever the opportunist, stood his ground, seeing the chance to get Alby alone.
“C’mon, shank.” Alby said as he slid an arm under Newt’s armpit, helping lift the injured side and put less pressure on his left leg. He began pulling the blonde towards the Homestead, his thumb gently swiping over Newt’s back as the Brit grinned. He dragged the former runner up the stairs of the old wooden building before pushing him into one of the musty rooms. Newt stumbled a little but caught himself and made his way to the bed. Alby quickly followed him and sat next to the sprawled-out teen.
“You need to rest, boy.” Alby emphasized the last word, dragging the syllable on, teasing the other about being younger. A playfulness reserved for his close friends. Mainly Newt. One of the firsts to enter the Glade. His first friend. His only lover. If you could call them that.
They’d never defined their relationship. There wasn’t a need to. Alby wasn’t an affectionate person, not in front of people. And no one ever asked. Romance wasn’t really talked about. It was a group of teen boys, so of course it happened, but it was never discussed. The whole Glade had an unspoken don’t ask don’t tell. Which served Alby and Newt well. They never had to put a word to it. To what they both knew.
Newt rolled over and smacked Alby on the forehead, earning a chuckle from the leader. Newt leaned his face over and rested their faces together. His hair ended up Alby’s mouth leading to him accidentally spitting on the blonde’s locks. The absurdity made both the boys belly laugh and fall. Alby went off the bed, dragging Newt with him, a loud thud following the boys to the ground.
Newt landed on top of the Glade leader, still snorting. He allowed his head to rest on Alby’s chest, over his heart. His laugh died down and his breathing slowed as he listened to the steady rhythm. A reminder. Alby was there. He was there. They were both alive and safe. Well as safe as they could get. He felt Alby’s lips press to the top of his head, soft and loving. Even if the boy wasn’t affectionate in public, or with their few friends, he was when it was just them. His hand came up to touch Newt’s hair, carding through gently.
“I love you,” Alby whispered. Love. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. In fact, it was commonplace between them. Whispered before Alby went on ventures into the Maze to investigate abnormalities reported by the runners, laughed as they joked in a secluded area, said through tears when Newt had breakdowns. The first time they’d said it had been a slip up from Alby, a minor fault of the tongue. Newt had responded the words back to Alby, and it became a thing for them.
“I love you more.” Newt said, punctuating the sentence with a nuzzle and kiss on the chest, earning a soft chuckle from the older teen. He wrapped his arms around Alby. The gesture a softness reserved for private moments. The feeling was returned by Alby, large arms wrapping around Newt and stroking his back and head. His head tilted down as he began to kiss Newt’s head and smell the shampoo he specifically requested for Newt. Strawberry. A favorite of the younger boy. It gave him a weird feeling of home, even without an exact memory of it. And Alby would trade the world for Newt to be happy.
The two laid there, tangled together on the floor, warm. Hours passed like a blur as the couple snuggled, told stories, and laughed. Alby knew he should be taking care of the Glade, but Newt “needed” his care. And that was a good enough excuse for him. To take a break, to rest with the Brit, to be a teenager.
The lovers only broke apart when Frypan came up and reprimanded them for nearly missing dinner. Alby shoed him off with a pencil throw and slowly raised himself, helping Newt off him and to stand on his own. He handed Newt the cane he hated so much, much to the dismay of the blonde. Newt stretched and tried to crack his back, mumbling about the difficulty. “Stupid shuckin’ transtape...” Alby sighed and cracked his back with ease, giving the other teen a teasing grin that earned him a smack on the leg.
The pair walked down the steps, hand in hand. Their hold on each other broke as they exited the homestead and felt eyes on them. No one suspected anything of the leaders. No one had a clue of the nights they spent stargazing, of the hours they used to spend chasing each other, of the gentle kisses Alby gave Newt before either went off for their duties, of how Alby bet on how long it would take for Newt to adopt the newest Greenie.
No one knew of Alby specifically requesting the shampoo for Newt, of the hours Alby spent listing to Newt describe his ideas and thoughts, or of the times Alby had told Newt he was perfect as he was. That he was a real man, no matter what slinthead of the Glade Gally said. No one knew.
And they preferred it that way. Their love a private thing in a place where there was practically no privacy. Something only for their eyes. Well, also the eyes of the keepers and a few of their close friends. You can’t be a keeper or higher up and hide anything from Frypan. Or he won’t feed you. At least, he’ll threaten not to. He’d never actually starve them. Maybe.