Chapter 17

Newt did not plan to kiss Leo.

It happened during an episode of The Street.

Newt had rolled over to bury his face in Leo's chest to be entranced by the sound of his heart rather than watch the pub brawl on TV and had surged and sort of…sort of…wiped his mouth over Leo's…

It was the briefest brush of lips on lips.

Leo had lifted his head, trying to see over Newt to the TV and whatever was happening on screen, then he froze and asked in a strangled voice, "Did you just kiss me?"

"No." Newt pressed into the pillow. "I tried to sit up, caught my…mouth on yours. Sorry. Accident."

Nothing more was said.

Newt eventually rolled over, the TV clicked off, Leo dragged Newt close, then hung his heavy arm over Newt's side as he fell to sleep.

Newt didn't fall asleep. He lay awake, wondering what had possessed him to kiss Leo. He'd been cosy, and warm, and when he rolled towards Leo's body, he got an urge he couldn't control. There was intimacy between them. Newt gave Leo a back massage at least once a week, and Leo caressed Newt's scalp with his fingers every other day. They ate, slept and showered together, not to mention some days they only had each other.

But kissing, apart from the soft touch to the top of his head that one time, it was something they didn't do, until Newt had tried and failed.

He needed advice, and there was one man in Brixton he could count on.

The next morning at unlock, Newt rushed in the direction of Scott's cell.

"Newt!" Leo called out after him.

"I'll be there soon."

He intercepted Scott as he and Thomas were leaving their cell. Scott looked as pristine as ever in a grey loose shirt and tight black jeans. Thomas had his T-shirt on back to front and yawned into his hand.

"I need to talk to you."

Scott looked Newt over. "Sure." He nodded for Thomas to go ahead, then stepped back into his cell. Newt followed, glancing around like he'd just stepped onto an alien planet. He'd been at Brixton for almost eight months, and the only other cell he'd been inside of had been Shaw's.

Scott's and Thomas's cell was clean, and it smelled faintly perfumed. They had a DVD player set up beside the TV and were blessed with an unclouded windowpane.

"Can you see the stars at night?" Newt asked.

"No. The perimeter lights are too bright."

Newt glanced at the bottom bunk. He presumed it belonged to Thomas if the snake-skin print blanket neatly spread over the mattress was anything to go by. There were pictures tacked to the wall—not photographs, but pencil drawings, and they were good, seriously good. "I didn't know Thomas could draw."

Scott put his tray on the desk. "Oh that," he said, gesturing to the sheets of paper on the wall. "That was me. It's the evolutionary process of Thomas morphing into a snake. It was meant as an insult, but he loves it."

"It's really good."

"I prefer paint." Scott shrugged. "But I have to make do with pencil." He sat down on the bottom bunk. "Now spill, Thomas will be back soon."

"I kissed Leo."

Scott blinked. "The last time we spoke, you told me Leo was into the ladies, and your attraction to him was one-sided."

"Yeah, that's not changed." Newt slumped as he joined Scott on the bed.

"And you thought it was a good idea to kiss him?"

"That's the thing, I didn't think, I wanted to do it, and it happened."

"How did he react?"

"He didn't. I told him it was an accident."

Scott stroked a hand over his hair. "An accident? And he bought that?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're sorted. No issue."

"But what if it happens again." Newt clutched his head. "I feel like it might happen again."

"Is that the first time you've kissed anyone?"

"No."

Scott raised an eyebrow.

"I kiss Triton all the time."

"Triton. Your cat?"

"Yeah. That counts."

"It's a little different, I doubt Leo is quite that hairy. What were you thinking when you did it?"

Newt shook his head. "That's the problem, I wasn't. I had that feeling I always have when I'm alone with him and we're…doing our thing."

"The tummy tickles." Scott smirked. "But more commonly referred to as butterflies."

"Yeah, but the last few weeks, they haven't been as erratic. They're still there, but calmer, and I just…kissed him."

"Okay, what had you been thinking about leading up to the kiss?"

"Leo's mouth."

"That figures."

"I wondered if his lips were as warm as the rest of him, and I wondered what they'd feel like against mine. And maybe I wondered what it would be like if he kissed me back."

"And did you want him to kiss you back?"

"I think so."

Scott's nod was slow, considering. "And how were you hoping he would kiss you back?"

"Preferably with his mouth."

Scott's lips quirked with a smile. Then he laughed. It was sharp and sudden and punched the air from Newt's chest. Scott rarely laughed. Sure he made a rumble of amusement when it was expected, but it was refined like the rest of him, part of his armour, but when he actually laughed, it was as precious as it was startling.

"It's too early in the morning for this," he said, running another hand through his hair.

"Sorry."

"Nah, Newt, you're fine. I meant, what kind of kiss were you after?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. When you think about Leo kissing you, what do you want him to do?"

"Press his mouth to mine, you know, a kiss."

Scott groaned. He twisted his body towards Newt. "Give me your hand."

Newt didn't hesitate; he held it out to Scott.

"With your permission, Newt, I'm going to kiss the back of it."

"What?"

"Can I kiss you for the purpose of speeding this conversation along?"

"Yeah, I guess?—"

Scott brought Newt's hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the skin. The touch was brief, but there was some force behind it and the softest of sounds. "That's a peck."

"That's what I was trying to do," Newt admitted.

Scott withdrew. "Trying to do—what the hell did you do?"

"Permission to show you?"

Scott offered his hand. "Permission granted."

Newt hesitated, then brought Scott's hand towards him, and what could only be described as smeared his mouth over the back of it.

"Wow," Scott said. He shifted on the bed. His eyes were wide. "I need a minute to process what that was."

"That bad?"

"That…different." Scott smacked his lips.

"Thanks."

"It wasn't a compliment, and it wasn't a criticism either." His cheeks rounded with his smile. "Oh Newt." He shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm hoping you'll give me some advice."

"You told me you didn't think Leo was interested."

"I don't think he is, but I want to know for sure."

"And instead of asking him, you'd rather try to wipe your saliva over him without warning?"

Newt pulled his eyebrows down. "You said you wouldn't criticise."

"There's nothing sexier in life than consent. If you're going to kiss him again, I think you should ask first."

"How do I do that?"

"Through the medium of dance."

Scott laughed at his own joke, wrapping his arms around his middle. Newt couldn't help but snort along with him.

"Your laugh is ridiculous."

"I know." Scott wiped his eyes. "Thomas said it's the most unattractive thing about me, which means it's his favourite thing about me. But seriously, Newt, you ask using words from your mouth."

"That sounds hard."

"You'll be fine. Here, practise on me.

"On your hand?"

"If you like."

Newt glanced at Scott's hand, then away again. He mumbled in the direction of the floor. "Can I kiss you?"

When Scott didn't say anything, Newt dragged his gaze off the floor. Scott was waving at him.

"And did the floor give you an answer?"

Newt shoved him. "I told you it's hard. Show me."

"Okay, give me a second, I'm out of practice." Scott rolled his shoulders, then cracked his neck. "Proximity is important," he said, holding his hand in front of his face. "And eye contact… Maybe. Maybe do a little lip tease."

"A what?"

Scott demonstrated, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go plump and wet.

"And then, with a soft voice," Scott murmured, staring at his hand, "You ask, ‘Leo, can I kiss you?'"

"And if he says no?"

Scott dropped his hand to his lap. "You apologise, say it was a misunderstanding and you'll never do it again and you hope you can stay friends."

"Right…and if he says yes?"

"Well, if he says yes, that opens up a load of options."

Newt frowned. "Like what?"

"You could cup his cheek with one hand, lean in and give him a peck."

"Or?"

"You could slip your hand behind his neck, ease him closer, meet him halfway."

"That…that sounds okay."

"There's not just pecking, but other kisses too. Have fun with it, experiment a little, as long as you're both comfortable. You could try opening your lips a little, maybe adding some tongue—not too much, don't drown him—but if you don't like tongue kissing, it's fine. You're fine."

Newt nodded.

"So remember," Scott said lifting his hand in front of his face. "Proximity, eye contact, clear signals, and with a soft voice, ‘can I kiss?—'"

He broke off and raised his eyebrow at the doorway. Newt leapt to his feet at the sight of Thomas holding his tray, which quivered in his grip.

Bothof his eyes were wide.

"I don't know what this is," Thomas said slowly, "but don't stop."

Scott smirked. "That concludes our lesson for today."

"Please let me tie you up together," Thomas said. He swallowed hard. "I'll let you kiss your hands all you want?—"

Scott sighed. "Come on, Newt, breakfast time."

* * *

The rest of the day continued as normal, although Newt kept spying Leo staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't look away when Newt glanced back, but he didn't reveal whatever was on his mind either.

He saved it until lock-up.

The lock clunked, and they settled into their evening routine of tea and TV. Newt lay on his side, and Leo lay down behind him, propping his head up on his hand so he could see the screen.

It was almost lights out when Leo finally asked, "What was that about this morning?"

Newt knew precisely what Leo was talking about and could've made things easier, but instead he replied, "What about earlier?"

"You rushing off to find Scott."

"Oh." Newt fiddled with the seam of the pillowcase. "I needed to talk to him."

"About what?"

"Kissing," Newt blurted.

Leo didn't respond immediately, and when he did, it was a few words that added nothing to the conversation. "Oh. I see."

"Do you?"

"Not really."

"He kissed my hand, and I tried to kiss his?—"

"Wait, wait." Leo took Newt's shoulder and eased him onto his back so they could look at each other. His eyes were wide, and there was a hint of hysteria to his voice, "What are you talking about?"

"Scott was teaching me, you know, how it should be done, until Thomas interrupted."

"That explains the leering looks Thomas has been giving you all day." Leo scrunched his eyes shut and breathed out a harsh breath. "But…wait. I didn't even know you liked Scott like that."

"I don't."

"Then why?—"

"I needed some advice."

Leo reopened his eyes. "What possible advice could end with you kissing each other's hands?"

"Kissing advice."

"Kissing advi?—"

Leo flung himself upright. He twisted his hips, pushing his legs into Newt's and forcing them from the bed. Newt sat up fast so he didn't fall. He clutched Leo's pillow to his chest so he had something to squeeze.

"Hold on," Leo said, leaning back on the wall. "Last night…"

Newt abandoned the pillow, grabbed the bunk, about to heave himself up to escape to the top bed, but Leo caught him around the waist. Newt had no idea how he ended up sat between Leo's legs, back to his chest, but he stopped struggling to escape and reclaimed Leo's pillow to crush to himself.

"That was a kiss last night, wasn't it?"

Leo's voice no longer held a hint of hysteria; it had calmed. Newt's own voice failed in his attempt to come off casual.

"No, it wasn't." The words came out breathless.

"Yes, it was."

"Fine," Newt snapped. "I tried to kiss you last night, and I went to speak to Scott this morning because he knows about this kind of stuff, and he demonstrated what a peck was. I repeated what I tried to do last night on you, and then he showed me a better approach."

"Which was?"

"I'm supposed to close the distance between us, cup your cheek, stare into your eyes, and then ask in a whisper whether I can kiss you."

Leo didn't say anything.

"And if you say no, which in all probability you will, I should apologise, say I misunderstood the signals and ask if we can still be friends."

Leo's silence began to grate on him, but he pushed on. "And if you said yes, I had an arsenal of kisses to choose from, but I don't know any of them, so be prepared for disappointment. I've always thought kissing was kinda weird, but with you, the idea of it is…"

"Less weird?" Leo suggested.

"No, still weird, but maybe nice weird."

"I see."

"Do you?"

Leo paused again. Newt waited.

"Newt… I don't think…"

He closed his eyes. His cheeks were on fire. A long time ago, Newt had watched Mickey be rejected when a group of women on a hen do came into Stud Muffins. Mickey hadn't squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to disappear from sheer willpower. He hadn't even blushed. No, Mickey wished them a good day and went back to reading his magazine like it wasn't a big deal.

Either Mickey was a fantastic actor, or it had not bothered him to be turned down by every woman in the bridal party.

Newt wanted to suffocate himself in a pillow after one rejection from Leo.

"Don't say it," Newt interrupted, escaping Leo's arms. He stood up. "You don't have to say anything. I get it. You're not attracted to me. You're into women. And I'm sorry I've made things awkward. I like you. I like everything about you, including your illness." Newt cringed. "Wait, I don't like that you've got an illness, but I like that you get what it means to be different, to have something wrong with you others don't understand. Not that our conditions are the same; yours is physical, mine is psychological, but I guess both our issues come from our brains not being wired right,"

"Newt…"

"And I like how we are when we're locked in, how domestic it is, how you let me sleep on your bed and pull me close, and that might not mean anything to you, but it means something to me, and I'm rambling because the more you don't say anything, the more I want to run for that door, which is stupid because I know it's locked, but there's a part of me that still thinks I can get through it to escape this?—"

"Newt," Leo said firmly, killing the rest of Newt's words that would've kept spilling until the sun came up. "Breathe."

Newt did.

The lights turned off. Newt panted in the darkness, having run out of breath.

He leaned against the wall beneath the window, blinking fast to adjust to the dark and maybe, to dry out his wet eyes too.

"This…" Leo started. "It's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"For multiple reasons."

"You don't…you don't like the idea of me kissing you?"

He heard Leo get off the bed. He could sense him moving across the cell, heading in Newt's direction.

"I'm not Scott," Newt whispered. "I don't know how to be confident, and seductive, and I'm not Thomas with his trains, buses and planes, and I'm not Cindy with her long legs, pretty eyes, and…and womanly body."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Newton Briggs. I like rocks and stars and cakes. I love my family, my cat and talent shows. I'm awkward, a touch na?ve, and I'm experiencing all this for the first time. I like you, Leo. A lot. And for reasons still unknown even to myself, I wanted to express that like through a kiss. I still do. Not a tongue kiss, but a peck, multiple pecks preferably, but if you'd rather I didn't, I understand."

Leo stopped in front of him. The window glowed on his face as he regarded Newt. "Why?"

Newt avoided his eyes.

"I told you, I like you."

"But why?" Leo asked, ducking his head down. He was close, no longer in the light but hiding in Newt's shadow.

"You take care of me. When that door shuts at night, I almost believe our cell is just a room in our home. We're not locked in, but we choose to be here, drinking tea, watching TV sprawled out on our bed, and it's not that I don't miss home home, I do, but I like this with you."

As Newt spoke, Leo moved his face closer until there were only inches between them.

"Every time you touch me, even if it's only a squeeze to my shoulder, my insides flutter, and when you hug me with your whole body, I just want to melt into you. It's addicting. You're warm, physically and psychologically, and I wondered whether your lips are too, whether they'd feel warm on mine and flash heat through my body. Whether kissing you will make the butterflies go crazy."

Leo snorted softly. Newt got the impression Leo was almost toying with him as he closed another inch between them. His heart thumped, and the butterflies fluttered, and a little voice in his head told him it was okay, things were heading in the direction he wanted.

"Anything else?"

"You're handsome. Your eyes are golden when you smile, and I like the shape of your nose."

"My nose?"

"It's like an S and your lips, I know you don't like them, but I do, and since the first week, I've wanted to touch them."

"Is that so?"

"From the first week, I've felt safe with you."

That made Leo stop his advance. Newt heard and felt his sharp intake of breath.

Newt waited, for what felt like the longest time he waited, with Leo right in front of him, not knowing what to do, not knowing why things had ground to a halt.

"Safe?" Leo whispered.

"I do. I feel safe. With you."

Leo exhaled, a warm breath that tingled Newt's lips, and that was when Newt asked him, without attempting a lip tease and with the cell too dark for eye contact, "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Leo whispered. "But if it's too weir?—"

Newt pressed his mouth to Leo's. His lips were dry, rough too, but they were warm and firm, and Leo's. The butterflies inside Newt's chest exploded so violently he clutched Leo's shoulders to stay on the ground.

"Okay?" Leo asked, stepping back.

"Yes. Weird, but nice. What about you? Was it okay for you?"

"It was weird," Leo agreed.

"Shit, I'm?—"

"A good kind of weird."

Newt kissed the edge of Leo's lips, then his cheek as Leo pulled him into one of his full-body embraces.