The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

8 | The Picnic

"I don't mind," I reply.

"Last night, you wore- what was it?" he asks, scrunching his nose up in concentration. He sticks his tongue out. "I don't remember."

"I'll choose something, then," I say, rolling my eyes playfully, and head towards the wardrobe. Unfortunately, his hand's grip loosens on mine until our hands are separated. I program the wardrobe to bring me a pair of short grey shorts and a white tank top, and as I take them out, I turn to Newt.

"Turn around while I get changed," I order him, and stick my tongue out.

"Sure thing," he says, and faces the other way, still sitting on his bed. I take off the cream pants, black shirt, and grey jacket and pull on the shorts and tank top.

"Ready!" I call, turning around to face him again. He's still sitting there, his back to mine, until he turns around.

"So, love," he says, and his eyes stay on mine, as if he's embarrassed to look lower. "I'm just gonna get changed now, too."

"Okay," I agree, and before he asks me to, I turn around, out of politeness. I can hear the groan of the mattress as he springs off the bed and to the wardrobe. I hear him grab some clothes out, and listen as he pulls them on. Assuming that he's done, I turn around to see a shirtless Newt standing there. Unable to move or do practically anything else, my mouth drops open as I catch a glimpse of his toned chest.

"Uh, your, clothes," I say, flabbergasted. He grins, and to my disappointment, grabs a grey shirt and pulls it on. I shake my head, once, to clear my mind and hopefully shake the red tinge off my cheeks. I pull at a piece of the bottom of my white tank top in embarrassment, not meeting his eyes once. He starts to laugh quietly, and in defiance, I do raise my eyes.

"What?" I demand.

"Nothing," he says, still laughing to himself.

"What?" I repeat, louder.

"You're adorable, love," he grins, and I roll my eyes at him.

"Am I?" I snap, only half joking.

"Yep," he confirms, popping the 'p'. I raise one eyebrow questioningly, almost teasingly. "Come on, love," he says, shaking his head in amusement, and holds his arms out for a hug. I almost grin, but I'm not done teasing him yet. He rolls his eyes and closes the distance between us, his arms wrapping me in a tight embrace. I don't hug back yet, though. I'm too stubborn, even though his strong arms wrapped around me send shivers down my spine.

"If that's how you want to play it, y/n," Newt says, and he release me for a split second, until his hands reach my stomach and he tickles me until I'm lying on the bed, gasping for breath. I try and breathe in and out, but I'm laughing too hard to focus.

"I surrender," I try to wheeze out, but my stomach hurts too much from laughter.

"What was that?" he asks. It sounds a lot like flirting to me, and I laugh even harder, but this time with happiness.

"I- I surrender," I repeat, smiling from ear to ear. He ceases tickling me at once.

"See?" he says. "It was that easy, love."

"Good to know," I say sarcastically.

"So, can I get a hug now?" Newt asks, again sounding like a three year old. I roll my eyes.

"Of course you can," I reply, and wrap my arms around his torso.

"That's not a hug," Newt protests. 

"Well, what do you want, then, Newton?" I ask.

"This," he replies, and lifts me up off the floor. He chuckles as he spins me around until the ground is spinning under my feet. I laugh again as he places me down on the floor.

"Good that," Newt says once the world has stopped spinning.

"Good that," I agree as he releases me. I get worried as soon as he looks at me mischievously.

"I have an idea," he says, a sparkle in his eye.

"Why do I not like the sound of this-" I'm blocked off as he grabs my hand and leads me over to the food menu near the corner of his room.

"Newt, we literally just finished dinner," I remind him sternly.

"So, love?" he asks.

"I'm not hungry," I reply.

"Neither am I. So?" he prompts. I groan.

"I'm going to regret this, but fine," I say. His eyes light up.

"Really?" he asks.

"Really," I confirm.

"Close your eyes," Newt orders.

"Why?"

"Just do it, love," he replies. I sigh and close my eyes, and I can hear him whisper something into the machine, but what, I can't tell.

"Open," he says after only a few seconds, as he holds out a large, full plate of food to me. He holds a tray with a rich chocolate cake topped with small mint leaves and some sort of layer of chocolate crumbs. "I know how much you like mint tea, love," he says, "so I thought I'd give you this."

"Only you, Newt," I sigh, and take the cake from his hands and gently place it on the floor.

"Wait a minute!" Newt exclaims as he pulls the top blanket from the bed and folds it over the floor. Smoothing out a few of the wrinkles on it, he gestures for me to take a seat. As he also sits down, I grab the cake and place it between us.

"Our very own picnic," Newt says, smiling at me. Taking a small, plastic knife (I guess they don't trust us enough to give us real ones), he cuts the cake into quarters and offers me the biggest piece.

"Thanks, Newt," I tell him.

"Anytime," he says through a mouthful of cake. I take the piece he offered me and place it in my mouth. A rush of sweet chocolate and mint flavour rushes through me, and neither of us speak to one another until the cake is finished.

"Good?" Newt asks, smiling crookedly.

"Good," I agree, groaning through the last mouthful of cake, "but I don't think I'll ever eat or drink again."

"Don't say that," Newt responds. "What about mint tea?"

"Except for mint tea," I rephrase my previous statement.

"Good that," Newt says, and silence falls again, but it's not awkward - more like we're both just admiring the other's presence.

"We'd better head to bed," I say, stretching and yawning widely.

"Sure," Newt agrees, and jumps up. I stand up too, and he shakes out the blanket we were just sitting on. He pats the bed beside us and I hesitantly get in. He follows suit, and as if by magic, the lights turn off, detecting that we're both in bed. We're both facing each other, and since the room is so dark, I can only see the whites of his eyes.

"Thanks for the picnic, Newt," I say into the darkness.

"That's okay, love," he says, and I can tell that he's smiling. His arms reach around my waist and pull me into him. Butterflies shoot through my stomach, but I can hardly call them butterflies; they seem more like an army of nervous tracker-jackers. "This good?" Newt yawns.

"Mmm-hmm," I say as I snuggle into his chest. Through his shirt, his chest vibrates as he laughs. He leans down and pecks the top of my head. Words cannot describe the perfect pleasure that I feel, the perfect love that I can only get when he's close to me.

"Night, then, love," he replies.

"Night, Newt," I say as I lean in closer to him, my arm around his waist, his arm tightening around me protectively.

So for the second night in a row, his scent of mint, pine needles and dirt casts an air of calm over our sleeping bodies.