MEMORY ? newtmas au

"We're getting on in years," Thomas says one day.

Newt looks at him. "Yeah, that's what happens when you live for a while."

"Hmm."

"What is it?"

Those eyes he loves-still brilliant and brown as always, even after all this time-crinkle as he smiles. "It's funny. I never thought my life would happen like this. If someone told me that I would grow old with you when I was younger... I'd have laughed at them. But here we are."

"Here we are," Newt agrees. He pauses. "Having regrets, Thomas?"

"Ouch, full name," he jokes, pretending to flinch. "But no. No regrets, Newt. You?"

Newt smiles. "None at all."

And when they hold their gazes in such a way to convey their feelings to the other, it doesn't matter how old they are-it still feels exactly the same as the first time their eyes met, ten years ago.

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"I can't find my bloody glasses."

"Where'd you put them?"

"I don't remember."

Thomas places his newspaper back on the table. "All right, I'll help you look. I guess you'll need them if you want to look at my beautiful self."

Newt rolls his eyes. "You're starting to sound like Minho."

Moments later, Thomas calls him into the bedroom. "You left them on the nightstand," he says. "Did you really not check here first?"

"I suppose I'm going senile," he murmurs with a small smile as he slides the frames on.

The other man raises a crooked eyebrow. "Just don't go apeshit crazy on me. I'll need you to take care of me when I start forgetting things."

They laugh.

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He misses Thomas' cup completely as he tries to pour boiling water into his mug. "Bloody hell," he hisses as steam rises from the table.

Thomas puts down the packet of sugar he's holding and gets a towel. "Newt," he says as he begins to gingerly mop up the mess, "keep this up and you'll be as clumsy as I am."

"I think I have a long way to go before that's the case," Newt retorts, though he still feels bad as he places the kettle into the sink, wondering how his aim could have been so poor. "Although you're just reckless, not clumsy."

The other chuckles. "Yeah, I guess I'm in an advanced stage of clumsiness. Do you remember that one time, two weeks ago, when we were in bed and I accidentally-"

"God, don't remind me," he moans. "That was painful as hell."

"Well, anyway," Thomas continues cheerfully, "please don't become as inept with your body parts as I am."

Newt coughs lightly. "I'd have to shoot myself if that were to happen."

"Yeah, we only need one clumsy person around here. And I've already claimed that spot."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Why do I love you?"

"Because you find my creaking joints incredibly hot."

A pause. "I suppose I can't argue with that."

"Exactly." Thomas tosses the towel onto the counter. "So, want to hear more of those joints? In a closed setting?"