The Maze Runner Preferences

Moments Between You That Make Everyone Else Want To Vomit

A/N: A long title, I know, but LumbaMumba wanted happy, so you're all getting happy. You happy?

I'll probably depress you all again tomorrow, don't worry ;)

Gally:

"Good morning, Pumpkin," he says, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind as you sit at the breakfast table, preparing for a day in the fields. His head came to a rest on your shoulder.

"Good morning, Sweet Pea," you replied. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine thanks, Cherry Pie."

"Slim it. Both of you," Newt said from the other end of the table, his tone one of disgust. "Nobody wants to hear all your bloody food nicknames."

"But my sugar plum does," Gally retorted.

"I sure do, honey bunch," you replied, trying to annoy Newt even more.

"Okay, stop bloody egging each other on. It's not helping."

The look of realisation that crept on to Newt's face was priceless. You'd somehow lulled him into your game.

"I'm leaving," he said, grumbling to himself.

"Perfect," Gally whispered into your ear before pecking your cheek.

"Speaking of perfect," you replied with a smarmy grin. "We're the perfect pear."

Minho:

It happened every day, without fail. You'd wait in the middle of the Glade by the box-hole, facing the East Door, where Minho would soon return through. The second he reached the safety of the Glade, your little charade would begin.

"Oh, shuck this, here they go again," you heard Zart say, as Minho slowed his pace, feigning a look of disbelief to see you there. You returned the expression and began running as though in slow motion towards him.

Minho mirrored your actions, heading straight towards you, arms outstretched. His mouth was wide open in a cheesy grin.

The two of you collided and he lifted you up into the air and spun you around, still maintaining the slow-motion façade.

"Alright, nice job. That's the fifty-sixth time you've done that exact same thing. Now, get to that shuck map-room, Minho. Maps aren't gonna write themselves."

Alby seemed to have appeared from nowhere today, but it didn't stop Minho from leaning in and pecking you on the lips.

"I will see you again," he assured you, dramatically. "I will return for you, my love!"

He yelled the last line back to you as he jogged towards the map-room, one arm reaching back to you. You reached out to him, but stayed in one place.

"I can only await your return! Goodbye, my lover!" you yelled back across the Glade. Alby rolled his eyes and smacked you lightly across the head.

"Frypan needs help in the kitchen," he said.

"Yeah, and you need help with your sense of humour," you muttered.

"What?"

"Goodbye!"

Newt:

Whenever you were remotely near each other, you ended up holding hands. It was just how things worked for you two.

If Newt was sitting inside the Homestead, you'd sit down and slip your hand into his; if you were standing by the bonfire, sipping a drink, he'd stand beside you, his hand grasping yours; if Newt ended up sleeping next to you at night, which was often the case, your fingers would be intertwined.

It was just what you did. It was a natural occurrence.

"Ew! Gross! They're touching again!" was often the comment you'd receive, but Newt would just blush and you'd beam in response. You both knew the others had nothing on your relationship.

"Their hands are making babies!"

"They're fusing! They're gonna turn into one weird looking shuck monster thing! Look at how close they are!"

You would both just laugh. You loved the way Newt would lower his head and giggle to himself as if it was a crime to find anything funny in this place. You would just squeeze his hand tighter. It was your way of letting each other know you'd always be there.

Thomas:

"Look, Y/N! I saved you!" Thomas would yell, as he stopped a leaf from falling near you.

"Oh, wow! Thanks, Thomas! You sure are my hero!" you'd say, throwing your arm dramatically across your forehead and falling backwards slightly, allowing him to catch you.

Thomas would laugh falsely at that.

"Haha," he'd say, putting on a deep voice. "I'm not a hero. I'm just your average boy."

He'd wink into space, accompanied by a cheesy grin, and a hundred simultaneous groans would sound out across the Glade, every one of them sick of your weird little skit. Sometimes it would be a leaf, other times Thomas would pretend to scare off another Glader if they walked too closely to you. Once, an encounter with a Beetle Blade led to a ten-minute monologue about injustice in the world. In the deep voice, of course.

Of course, you didn't mind at all. You loved this little act you had going, because you knew the truth behind it; Thomas would do anything to save you, and this was just his weird little Thomas way of letting you know.

You kind of wished he'd stop saving you from working in the fields. It was an excellent excuse to make out, but Alby was getting pretty suspicious...