Description - Newt faces his greatest frustrations as a leader, and only one thing keeps him grounded.
You are pulled away from your peaceful sleep by a warm breath blowing on your ear. Newt finally finished his Keepers’ meeting about the strange Greenie – Thomas. By the looks of it, the weight that has been put on his shoulders as second in command is more than he could bear.
You turn to face him – your noses inches away – and watch him admiringly. He is a strong and responsible leader – despite the mushy emotions that are present underneath his rough exterior, he pulls the role of a delegator quite well, and for that you are proud of him.
You can’t help it – you intertwine your fingers with his unruly locks and join your lips with his. He stirs, and you regret your reckless decision immediately until he smiles at you with sleep-hazy eyes.
“Hello, love.” He whispers huskily, brushing his knuckles across your cheek, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your lips.
“I missed you, Newt.” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he rubs your back in comfortingly lazy circles.
“I’m sorry, darling, you do know that I’m still focusing on your safety, right…?” he’s stroking your hair now. “Can’t let anything happen to my girl.”
“What’s happening to the Glade, Newt?” you make eye contact with him, and he furrows his brows.
“Thomas doesn’t recall anything more than he’s already shared with everyone. What we’re trying to do is come up with plans in case anything more unusual happens.” Though this is the only things Newt’s shared with you, it is evident that he has more on his mind than he lets you see – but you go with it for his sake.
“We’ll be okay,” is all you can tell him. Maybe if it is said repeatedly, it will become the truth. Maybe. “Don’t think about it for tonight…” you give him the gentlest of kisses, before wrapping your arm around his torso, breathing in his scent – soap and wet grass. “You get some sleep, now. I love you.”
“As I love you.” You fall asleep to the feeling of Newt’s fingers dancing in your hair.
Shouting had Newt jolting out of bed – slowly, as to not wake Y/N – and out of their tent to address the commotion.
“What the shu-“
Newt is greeted by the sight of Minho and Gally lifting an unconscious Alby to the Medjack hut – presumably stung.
He steps in the tent, pecks your lips, and takes deep breaths before heading to the hut. Minho stares at him the second he walks in.
“Guess you’re in charge now, yeah?” Minho looks at him remorsefully, and majority of the people in the hut nod in agreement.
Newt looks down thoughtfully, then he says in an authoritative tone, “These two are doing their bloody jobs,” he gestures to Clint and Jeff, “I suggest you all do the same. Alby won’t be happy with slackers. Move it!”
Once the perimeter was cleared, he heads out to the deadheads and pulls his hair in frustration. He can’t even assure Y/N’s safety, much more the entire Glade. Worst case scenarios begin flashing in his mind.
“Newt?” his girl. His rock. “I – Minho told me.”
Newt doesn’t reply.
“Just because you’re in a position, babe, doesn’t mean you’re alone entirely.” You wrap your arms around his torso and press your chin against his chest, looking up at him. “I’m not much of a help, but you got me, don’t you?”
He looks down at you and smirks. “You’re adorable.” He murmurs, and you almost don’t hear.
“Let’s get to breakfast.”
Newt still looks remorseful and reluctant, and he knows that you notice, so he brushes his thumb against your knuckles, close to your intertwined fingers as you walk to Fry’s tables.
You’re shocked to see that the Gladers are actually seated at the Homestead, all are quiet and staring at something; or nothing at all.
“What’s going on here?” no one replies until Minho makes eye contact with you.
“Lost our appetite.” He murmurs, staring back at the wall, his hammock swinging a little.
You don’t know what to say at this point. Your best friends, even the love of your life feels at their lowest point. You keep these thoughts to yourself until Newt speaks up.
“Won’t say this again, shanks, I won’t tolerate any slackers who use Alby as an excuse to mope around like that all day. Minho, we’ll investigate the Maze,” he tightens his grip on your hand, a sign you should shut up, “the rest, get back to work. Now.” The crowd disperses.
“As for you, princess,” he tilts your head up with his thumb, “Can’t risk you in the hut. Gardens for today, Zart will watch you.”
You stand up straight and salute with a sarcastically jolly, “yes, sir!” before retreating into the Gardens.
“She’s got you hooked, Newtie.”
His eyes are still on your retreating form. “She’s something, ain’t she?”
“Without a second of a doubt.”