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t's funny how a day can turn into a nightmare in a matter of seconds. Thomas had never experienced anything like it. At least, not like this.
The moment they received the call, the moment they climbed into the fire truck and Jorge told them the address they were heading to, Thomas's life came to a complete standstill.
It was his address. His home.
"Tom." Brenda leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and rested a hand on the knee that hadn't stopped bouncing. "Are you okay?"
He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. Truthfully, he couldn't even focus on his surroundings. He tried to shake his head, but hesitated. How was he supposed to explain this to her? To the team?
He knew he should have told them. He should have told them from the very beginning, ever since he'd joined the station a few months ago. Everyone on the team was open and honest, never judgmental—that was what made them who they were. And yet Thomas had always been too insecure to talk about himself. About his family. His world.
He always felt like his family could disappear on any bad day. Considering how dangerous his job was and the things they witnessed, it wasn't such an irrational fear. Even after all these years, there was still a cruel voice that haunted him at night, whispering that he didn't deserve to be loved like that, that he didn't deserve people who cared about him.
Yes, he probably should have told his team about his family, about his husband and his son, but after that first month, the moment had never seemed right. And it certainly wasn't right now. Not while Thomas was hunched over, struggling to keep himself together and form coherent sentences.
Brenda shot him a questioning glance, concern written all over her face, and gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. It didn't solve everything. It didn't make the nerves or the overwhelming panic disappear. But it helped him focus. It reminded him that he had a job to do. And damn it, he needed that reminder now more than ever.
After taking a deep breath, Thomas straightened up and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, forcing the worst-case scenarios out of his head before they could replay themselves again.
It didn't stop him from jumping out of the truck before it had fully come to a halt, desperate to see the damage with his own eyes.
"Thomas!" Jorge called after him, hurrying to catch up, but Thomas was completely lost in his thoughts.
He crossed the street, scanning the outside of the house for signs of flames, smoke, anything.
"Tom, where are you going?"
"The fire," Thomas answered sharply, turning toward Jorge. "Where's the fire?"
Jorge glanced over his shoulder at the property, frowning. "A neighbor called. She said she saw smoke coming from one of the back windows. I told everyone on the truck. Didn't you hear me?"
The back window. The kitchen.
Without another word, Thomas bolted toward the front door. He heard the team following behind him, but he didn't wait. He tried the handle. Unlocked. Thank God. He rushed inside.
Silence.
Not an eerie silence. Just the kind that suggested no one was home yet. Technically, Thomas was at work, and Oliver should still be at school. But Newt was home. Or at least, he was supposed to be.
"Newt?" he called, his voice rough. No answer.
As he ventured farther into the house, Thomas sighed at the sight of the mess. He and Newt had meant to tidy up. They really had. But Newt had only been home for a few days, and they'd both been busy. Still, this wasn't exactly the first impression Thomas had wanted his coworkers to have of his home.
"Newtie? Are you home?"
He called again as he finally reached the entrance to the kitchen. At that very moment, a loud crash echoed through the house, making his heart slam against his ribs.
Then a voice far too familiar rang out: "Shit! Not again!"
Thomas held his breath as he took the final few steps into the kitchen. What he found was nothing like he'd expected.
He had been prepared to see flames, smoke, or at least scorch marks. He'd imagined finding Newt unconscious on the floor. Instead, his husband was standing by the open kitchen window, waving a baking tray with a dish towel, while the countertops were covered with mixing bowls, wooden spoons, and flour. A lot of flour.
"Newt?" The other man startled at the sound of his voice and spun around, his eyes wide with guilt. Thomas didn't care. The only thing he could focus on was that Newt was okay. Newt was safe.
He felt a smile spread across his face before he even realized his feet had already carried him across the room. He threw himself into Newt's arms, burying his face in his neck as a shaky laugh escaped him. "Thank God."
Newt's hand slid up to the back of Thomas's neck, his fingers threading gently through his hair. He pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss against his lips. "What are you doing here?"
Thomas wrapped his arms around Newt's waist, slipping one hand beneath the hem of his shirt until his fingertips brushed warm skin. He looked up at him, still confused.
"We got called out. A neighbor reported seeing smoke coming from the window."
Newt groaned, letting his forehead fall onto Thomas's shoulder. "Oh no... no, no, no. You're kidding."
"I'm afraid not, sweetheart. What happened?"
Thomas glanced over Newt's shoulder, inspecting the kitchen in search of any clue. Newt huffed, shaking his head against Thomas's shoulder, his hair tickling Thomas's chin.
"Everything okay in here?" Jorge's voice cut through the quiet, and Thomas jumped.
Only then did he remember that his team had followed him inside. He'd been so worried about Newt that he'd completely forgotten they were there. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he turned around.
His coworkers were all crowded in the doorway, staring at the two of them with thoroughly bewildered expressions.
"Uh... yeah. Everything's fine." Newt answered for him, stepping back just enough to look at Jorge. Then he shot Thomas a teasing smile, sliding his hand from the back of his neck to his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "My prince came to rescue me." He paused dramatically. "Or something like that."
Thomas narrowed his eyes at him, trying—and failing—not to smile. Newt leaned in and kissed his cheek, his lips brushing dangerously close to the corner of Thomas's mouth. Their noses bumped together. "How could I not be okay when I've got such a handsome man rushing in to save me from danger, hm?" he murmured fondly. "My angel."
The tenderness in Newt's smile was almost painful. Thomas let out a quiet laugh. Newt leaned even closer until his lips were right beside Thomas's ear. "You look ridiculously hot in that uniform," he whispered. Thomas immediately felt his cheeks burn.
"Seriously... what's going on here?" Minho asked, looking between the two of them.
Thomas cleared his throat before facing the team again. He shrugged awkwardly and gestured around the kitchen. "There's no fire."
"We noticed," Brenda replied, rolling her eyes as the four of them finally stepped into the room.
"So what happened?" Jorge asked.
Newt looked down at his feet, visibly embarrassed. "I... uh..." He glanced at Thomas while biting his lower lip. "I tried to bake cookies."
Thomas froze. Slowly, he looked back at the baking tray sitting behind them, the same one Newt had been frantically waving out the open window. Then he looked back at his husband.
Newt's nervous expression lasted all of three seconds before Thomas burst into laughter. His hand landed on Newt's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles as he tried to catch his breath. "You... tried to bake cookies?"
Newt slapped his hand away and shoved him lightly in the chest. "Oh, shut up."
"Cookies?" Thomas's voice cracked from trying not to laugh. He didn't care. Relief flooded every part of him, washing away the last traces of adrenaline. It was enough to make him feel unbelievably happy.
"Sweetheart... how?"
Newt folded his arms across his chest and glared at him. Unfortunately, the pose wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "I tried, okay?" he muttered defensively. "They must've burned. I don't know." He pointed accusingly toward the oven.
"I was organizing exam results; they've been sitting on the table for days. I swear I only got distracted for five minutes. I thought they'd be fine."
Thomas shook his head with a fond smile. Sliding an arm around Newt's shoulders, he pulled him close and kissed the top of his head. "You know you're an awful cook." He chuckled. "So what were you doing baking cookies?"
Newt actually pouted. An honest-to-God pout. Thomas had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again. "For Oliver," Newt admitted quietly. "I wanted to do something nice for him... I've been away for so long..." Thomas frowned at that.
He gently cupped Newt's face, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Newt, no." He stopped the guilt before it had the chance to consume him any further. "You don't get to choose how long you're away. It's your job. Just like mine keeps me away from home for long hours. Oliver understands that."
His thumbs stroked Newt's cheeks. "He's just happy that you're back home with us. Together." Thomas watched Newt's shoulders slump as his gaze drifted toward the floor. His heart ached. He hated seeing him like this.
With a quiet sigh, Thomas hooked two fingers beneath Newt's chin, lifting his face again until their eyes met. "Enough," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Oliver is proud of you. And so am I." His voice softened. "You're a hero. You save lives. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, okay?"
Newt nodded, though he still didn't look entirely convinced. Thomas's chest tightened. "I love you so much." The words had barely left his mouth before Newt's lips found his.
Thomas sighed into the kiss, returning it with all the gentleness he could muster. Newt kissed him back just as softly.
When they finally pulled away, Thomas rested his forehead against Newt's, keeping his eyes locked on his husband's. He needed Newt to know he meant every word. He would never lie about loving him.
Taking Newt's hand, Thomas lifted it to his lips and pressed a tender kiss against his knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. "How about we bake cookies together when I get home?"
Newt laughed softly, his warm breath brushing Thomas's face. "I'd like that."
Only then did Thomas step back, though he never let go of Newt's hand.
Someone cleared their throat behind them.
Thomas turned to find his team staring at them with expressions somehow even more confused than before. He couldn't help chuckling, biting back a smile.
"So... uh..." He felt Newt lace their fingers together, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Thomas took a deep breath. "This is Newt." He smiled. "My husband."
"Husband?" Gally's jaw practically hit the floor. His eyes darted from Thomas, to Newt, and back to Thomas again.
Thomas nodded. "Yeah. My husband." He glanced around the room. "This is our house." Then he looked at Brenda. "That's why I was so worried." Understanding immediately softened her expression. She offered him a warm smile, and just like that, every fear Thomas had ever had about telling them about his family seemed to disappear.
"So you're finally back home?" Minho asked. Newt nodded, leaning comfortably against Thomas.
"I'm a surgeon," he explained. "I've been working overseas for nearly two months on a particularly complicated case. I got back two days ago."
Jorge watched them both quietly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. Thomas suddenly felt guilty for never telling his captain the truth. Still he was certain Jorge understood.
"Well," Jorge said at last, glancing around the flour-covered kitchen with an amused grin, "if everything's under control here..." He left the sentence hanging. "I suppose we'd better head back."
The rest of the team nodded and started making their way toward the front door.
"It was nice meeting you, Newt," Brenda said with a smile. "You should come by the station sometime."
"Yeah," Minho added with a laugh. "And bring us some cookies." He pointed toward the oven. "But maybe don't burn them this time."
Newt laughed along with them, waving goodbye. "I'll do my best."
Thomas moved to follow his team, but Newt tugged gently on the hand he was still holding. "Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" He asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.
Thomas laughed. Wrapping his arms around Newt's waist, he pulled him close. Newt tilted his head back expectantly.
Thomas leaned in and kissed him slowly. When they finally broke apart, they were both smiling so brightly that Thomas felt ten times lighter than he had less than an hour earlier.
As he walked out after his team, one comforting thought stayed with him the entire way. His husband would be waiting for him when his shift was over.
Funny how a day can become a nightmare in a matter of seconds. And just as quickly turn into a dream.