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Assistant: Title: How to Make a Guy Marry You in 3 Months
        Author: Anonymous undefined 
        Chapter: 4/5 
        Summary: Newt’s visa is expiring in 3 months.He has two options:1. Pack his bags and fly back to London.2. Seduce the hot single dad and convince him to say “I do.”Only one of these ends with a green card and a DILF.(Newt has a plan. It’s wildly inappropriate, it might just work.)
        Contents: Chapter 4: You Brought Him Cinnamon Rolls?
    

    

        
          
          
            Newt + cinnamon rolls = flirty thomas(?)
          
        

      
        
          This chapter was supposed to be up earlier, but I haven’t been feeling super well since yesterday. Spent most of the day resting  because my body just said nope. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and I hope this chapter makes up for the wait!!P.S. Sorry for the writing/grammar errors ;)
      
  

  
  
    
    Newt was standing in the teacher’s lounge, staring blankly at the mini fridge like it had wronged him.He hadn’t meant to pack extra cinnamon rolls. Newt definitely hadn’t meant to place them into a separate, smaller container with a lid that just happened to match the one from yesterday.It just… happened. Like muscle memory or something. Like he’d baked a batch of warm, gooey spirals of sugar and spice and thought, Thomas liked those. He should have more.The Tupperware in his hands was warm—still fresh from the oven. Cinnamon and sugar had practically infused into his skin at this point, his fingers smelled like vanilla glaze. He closed his eyes and groaned into the silence of the empty lounge.Because he remembered yesterday.
Sunday afternoon, quiet, warm sun slanting into his kitchen. And Thomas—Thomas—standing awkwardly on the other side of his doorway with Chuck on his hip and an empty container in hand.
  “Uh—Chuck insisted we return the box,” Thomas had said, clearly lying. “And also he said I had to come thank you in person. For the cinnamon rolls. Not my idea. Obviously.”

  Chuck had grinned like a little traitor and said, “He wanted more.”

  Thomas had definitely looked at Newt like he was tempted to ask. But he hadn’t. Just stood there in a navy hoodie and sweatpants—looking unfairly good for a Sunday—and told Newt, “They were honestly ridiculous. Like bakery-level good. Might’ve spoiled me.”
So now here Newt was. Spoiling him more.He sighed and shoved the extra container onto the top fridge shelf like he could pretend it hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t deliberately packed an extra three cinnamon rolls. Like he wasn’t thinking about the way Thomas had smiled as he left yesterday, saying, “See you Monday, Mr. Newt.”He hated this man—the way he made Newt obsessed with him.And of course, Chuck was waiting for him right outside the lounge door.“Hi!” Chuck beamed. “Did you make more?”Newt blinked. “You weren’t even inside yet. How do you know that?”“I smelled it on you.”“…I beg your pardon?”Chuck sniffed the air dramatically. “Cinnamon, glaze, warm bread. Dad says you probably smell like a bakery all the time.”Newt’s face lit on fire. “He said that?”“Yup.” Chuck whispered something like it was a secret: “But he also said he wouldn’t ask you for more unless you offered. Because that would be rude.”Newt opened his mouth to respond—only for Thomas to appear behind him, freshly arrived for school drop-off.“I was just going to say good morning,” Thomas said, eyes flicking to Newt’s hands, “but now I’m curious what’s in the fridge.”Newt swallowed. “Just… a snack.”“Cinnamon rolls?” Thomas asked, hopeful.“Maybe.” Newt took it from the fridge and passed him the extra container without looking directly at him. “Don’t get used to this.”Thomas took it carefully, smiling like Newt had handed him gold. “Too late.”By lunchtime, Newt was a menace to himself.He stood at the back of the classroom with a plastic knife and a paper plate, slicing apples for his students while trying not to replay that smile from earlier. The one Thomas gave him after accepting the cinnamon rolls like he’d been handed a love letter.God, Newt needed help. Or maybe a bonk on the head. Or a restraining order from himself.It wasn’t even about the cinnamon rolls anymore. It was the way Thomas had said, “Too late,” like he was already used to Newt taking care of him. Like it was something expected now.Like they were—“No. Stop it,” Newt muttered under his breath.One of the first graders glanced up. “What?”“Nothing, love,” Newt said quickly. “Talking to the apple.”He finished slicing and handed out snacks with the overcompensating energy of a man trying not to think about how he'd baked for a man two days in a row. Voluntarily. With glaze.And then Chuck, the little agent of chaos, leaned over from his seat and stage-whispered, “My dad says you have very kind eyes.”Newt dropped the plastic knife.“Sorry, what?” he asked, voice about six octaves higher than normal.Chuck blinked, completely serious. “He said it yesterday. After we went to your apartment. He told me you were sweet and funny and have kind eyes and maybe—”“Alright, that's snack time over!” Newt clapped his hands with the enthusiasm of a panicking twenty-three-year-old. “Let’s all go read a book quietly!”Chuck grinned.Newt sat down with a stack of picture books, but his heart was doing somersaults. He hadn’t even given Thomas his number—Thomas had asked for it.And Newt had given it.And now he was thinking about texting again. Maybe about the cinnamon rolls, or Chuck’s unsolicited compliments, or the way Thomas always looked at him like he wanted to say something but held back.He was so screwed.The school day ended like it always did: a bell, a burst of tiny chaos, and Newt standing outside with a clipboard and a gentle smile, waving off one small child after another into the arms of parents, nannies, and carpool vans.But then Chuck showed up with that same suspiciously innocent look he always wore when he was definitely up to something.“Mr. Newton!” he beamed. “Can I go to the playground before we go home?”Newt blinked. “Uh—don’t you usually head straight home, love?”Chuck already had his backpack unzipped and his water bottle out like this was all very premeditated. “Yeah but Dad said it’s fine today. Right, Dad?”Newt turned just in time to catch Thomas walking up with an unreadable expression and two drinks in his hand.Two. Drinks.He handed one to Newt with some explanation. “Thai milk tea, 25% sugar, less ice. Did I get your order right?”Newt stared down at the cup like it was a wedding proposal.“Thanks…” he said, voice already too soft.Thomas shrugged. “Chuck wanted to hang out for a bit. Figured I could too.”Newt blinked again.They just looked at each other for a beat too long.Thomas is the first one to turn toward the direction of the playground.“Let’s go then,” Thomas said. “C’mon, Newton.”Newt blinked. “You just called me—”“I know what I said.” Thomas smirked and started walking.Newt followed.The playground was empty, golden with early evening light, the sun casting long shadows across the mulch and metal slides. Chuck ran off to the climbing frame like it was the Olympics.Newt and Thomas sat on the bench nearby.It was casual, totally casual. Normal. Just two people, sitting, watching a child play. Nothing to panic about.Except Newt’s heart wouldn’t stop doing this annoying little flutter thing every time Thomas shifted a bit closer on the bench.Chuck began to shout from the top of the play structure like a war general.“Behold,” Thomas muttered, “the king of the jungle gym.”Newt snorted. “He’s got energy to spare, that one.”They sat in silence for a moment, watching Chuck swing from one bar to the next. The breeze was soft. The world felt… calm.Newt glanced sideways. “So—Minho says hi, by the way.”Thomas blinked. “Minho?”“Yeah, I met him two days ago.” Newt explained, smirking slightly. “Apparently, he really knows you.”Thomas groaned. “Please tell me he didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”“Depends,” Newt said innocently. “Do you consider ‘grumpy manager with god issues about the office thermostat’ embarrassing?”Thomas dropped his head into his hands. “Unbelievable.”Newt bit back a laugh. “To be fair, he said it with a weird amount of fondness.”“That’s because Minho is an agent of chaos.”“He also said you keep to yourself at work. Straight in, straight out. No unnecessary small talk, very mysterious,” Newt teased.Thomas shook his head. “I like to think of it as ‘efficient.’”“Mmm, efficient with a resting murder face,” Newt said, grinning.Thomas looked over at him. “You’re lucky I like you, Mr. Newton.”Newt blinked. The phrase rolled over him like a soft wave.“Oh, like me, do you?” he said, heart thudding a little too loud.Thomas gave him a look. “You’re alright.”“High praise.”Another pause. Then Thomas asked casually, “So if someone were to, say, try to bribe you with dinner instead of baked goods… where would they take you?”Newt tilted his head. “Is this a real question?”“Totally. Completely theoretical.”Newt grinned. “In that case, I’m very into Japanese food, or tapas, or basically anything with bread.”Thomas nodded slowly, filing that away. “Good to know. For… future theories.”Newt bumped his knee lightly against Thomas’s. “Noted.”Chuck let out a triumphant scream in the distance, having apparently conquered the climbing frame.Thomas leaned back on his hands and glanced at Newt again. “You always this charming, or is this just for me?”Newt gave him a half-lidded look. “Only for you, grumpy manager.”Thomas groaned. “I should’ve never told Minho that nickname bothered me.”“I like it,” Newt said lightly. “Gives you a bit of edge.”Thomas looked at him for a moment too long.  “Wait—hang on. You walked today?” Thomas asked, keys already in his hand as Chuck came bounding over with dirt on his knees and a proud, crooked smile.Newt scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Uh. Sort of. I usually borrow Teresa’s car, and she needed it back for work this morning. Thought I’d just bus home.”Thomas stared at him. “Absolutely not.”Newt blinked. “Sorry?”“You’re not bussing. Come on, I’ll drive you.”“You don’t have to—”Thomas was already turning to Chuck. “Hey bud, wanna show Mr. Newton your expert backseat DJ skills?”“YES!” Chuck yelled, flinging his backpack into the car with the confidence of a child who truly believes he owns it.Thomas opened the passenger door for Newt without looking at him. “Get in.”Newt hesitated, then muttered, “Bossy,” as he climbed into the front seat.Thomas grinned to himself as he shut the door and rounded to the driver’s side.Inside the car, it was warm and smelled faintly of cedar and something citrusy. Newt tried not to notice it too much, or how close Thomas’s arm was when he reached over him to hand Chuck a juice box.“Seatbelt,” Thomas reminded him with that dry voice.“I was getting there,” Newt mumbled, cheeks warm as he buckled in.Chuck began giving running commentary on the very important song playlist he’d created with Thomas, which included everything from Taylor Swift to Imagine Dragons to a dramatic piano instrumental Chuck claimed was “for when the mood needs to feel epic.”“So,” Thomas said after a few minutes, glancing sideways at Newt as they hit a slow patch of traffic, “your car—or rather, Teresa’s—is it a deathtrap?”Newt laughed. “It’s fine. It’s just pink. And loud. And the brakes squeak like a dying animal.”“Sounds safe,” Thomas deadpanned.“Safe enough for me to not die, which is good enough for Teresa,” Newt shot back, smiling.Thomas hummed. “You should let me take a look at it sometime.”“You fix cars now too?”“I’m a dad. We’re required to be decent at five random mechanical tasks.”Newt gave him a look. “That’s hot.”Thomas choked slightly and looked out the window. “You’re ridiculous.”Chuck’s voice piped up from the back, “Hey, Mr. Newton?”“Yeah, sweetheart?”“You’re my favorite adult. Sorry, Dad.”Newt snorted. “Well, obviously. I bring cinnamon rolls.”Thomas groaned. “So it’s food bribery now?”“Isn’t that what you were trying with Thai milk tea?”“That was different. That was strategic flirting.”Newt turned to him with a smirk. “So you admit it.”Thomas met his gaze briefly at the red light. “I don’t flirt by accident.”Newt’s heart did something inconvenient in his chest.Chuck hummed to himself in the background, oblivious to the way the air suddenly felt very charged in the front seat.“Okay, right here,” Newt said quickly, pointing to his apartment building. “You can just pull into the front.”Thomas did.“Thanks for the ride,” Newt said, unbuckling the seatbelt.“Text me when you’re inside,” Thomas said automatically. “Just to make sure you’re good.”Newt looked at him.“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, alright.”Chuck leaned forward between the seats and shouted, “BYE, MR. NEWTON! LOVE YOU!”Newt grinned and ruffled his hair. “Love you too, munchkin.”He stepped out, waved once more, and disappeared inside the building.Thomas sat still for a second longer.Chuck looked up at him and whispered, “Dad.”“Yeah?”“You should kiss him soon.”Thomas groaned. “I’m working on it, buddy.”'
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