The date continued after they had left the ice-skating rink. Newt drove them to Thomas's house because the brunet had told him that there was a second part of their date, and apparently he had the house to himself because his parents both worked late and Teresa was out with Brenda.
To say Newt was nervous was an understatement.
Even though the house was empty, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest when he parked his motorcycle outside the house that looked like something taken out of a disney-movie. He kept quiet as he followed Thomas to the house, entering after him with his lips pressed together. He had never been inside of a Northside-house before.
A scent of lavender and warmth found its way to Newt as he stepped inside, bringing out the lovely purple hue in the colour the walls were painted in. He walked after Thomas, just following him like a lost puppy, as he admired the house that felt so cozy and friendly. Pictures hung on almost every wall, smiles and twinkling eyes everywhere, familiar faces like Thomas's and Teresa's but also unfamiliar ones, babies and grown-ups. He admired the pictures, how wonderful and real they were, the people in them really seemed happy, and not fake-happy like the pictures of Newt as a child standing with his dad that his mother had somewhere in her room.
They entered a kitchen, and Thomas turned excitedly to him. "Let's bake something together!"
Newt watched as Thomas rummaged through the kitchen like he had it mapped out in his head. He got flour and sugar and eggs, put them on the counter, and then grabbed cocoa and milk and the other ingredients that would be needed. Newt watched dumbly, not really knowing what he was supposed to do when Thomas gave him a whisk. He simply just held it as Thomas got a bowl.
Newt leant both elbows on the counter as Thomas poured all the right amounts of ingredients into the bowl. He took this time to admire Thomas and how he somehow seemed so soft and carefree as he baked, so full of joy, like it was what he was supposed to be doing his whole life. It was quite messy, the flour creating a soft cloud when Thomas poured it into the powl, but there was a sort of grace when Thomas baked. He was so graceful and delicate with everything.
Thomas' phone suddenly rang and he stopped his movements to look at who it was. "It's my mom. Can you whisk this while I go and talk to her?" he asked Newt who simply nodded his head, because he couldn't just tell Thomas no. Thomas smiled and left the kitchen with a soft touch on Newt's shoulder.
Newt cleared his throat as he walked over to the bowl. He started stirring the mixture with the whisk in his hand, trying his very best to do it as properly as possible. He had almost never baked before, not since he had failed making pancakes for his sister for breakfast, and he was not sure how to mix everything without getting more than half of it outside the bowl.
When Thomas came back into the kitchen, he walked to get a form for their cake. "She just wanted to make sure I'm okay, and tell me that there's some leftovers in the fridge. They won't be home for another two hours so we should be fine," Thomas told him. Newt's hummed in reply, his tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrated on mixing everything. When Thomas approached him, a laugh escaped him.
"What?" Newt asked and gave Thomas a confused look.
"What are you doing, Newt?" he asked him with a smile so big that his dimples showed. Newt scoffed and nodded at the bowl.
"No, you are not," Thomas told him, laughing. "Here, let me do it."
"No, you told me to whisk it so I'm going to whisk it. I want to do it," Newt said, continuing "whisking" in his own way as Thomas giggled.
"Alright then, but let me help you." Newt playfully looked at Thomas with a hesitating look in his eyes, like he wasn't sure if he was going to let Thomas help him or not. He sighed heavily with a roll of his eyes, making sure to over exaggerate so Thomas understood he was joking. Thomas laughed at him and then put his hand above Newt's, holding the whisk together with him.