Glader Baby (TMR Fanfic)

Three || "Milk?!"

Minho looked at the blueprint and lifted one of his eyebrows. He wasn't a builder, he was a runner. How the shuck was he supposed to build the jail-like bed.

A crib. The creators had called it.

"Why didn't Newt ask the builders to build this contraption?! Why us? We're runners!" Thomas complained as he dropped the small pile of wood in his arms to the ground. Thomas had been complaining for the last twenty minutes as he went to gather some of the supplies they would need.

"Oh, stop complaining!" A young chubby boy with curly hair said to Thomas. "Besides, the builders have more important things to build. This is easy enough for us." The young boy grinned.

Thomas rolled his eyes at the young boy. "Whatever, Chuck. I'm a runner not a shucking builder."

"Okay, I got this." Minho finally said after a few minutes of studying the blueprint. "It's simple. We can build this." He says confidently.

Minho put the blueprint down and explained to Thomas and Chuck on how they would build this. Chuck was excited to build the crib. His excitement was so contagious it lifted Thomas' lazy mood and made Thomas excited too. It was rare that Chuck would ever get involved in something serious and special. He was just a kid afterall.

The three boys got to work, cutting the wood and piecing it all together. Halfway through their work, much to their delight, Frypan came and gave them cookies and refreshing cold water.

"My saviour!" Chuck had cried out when Frypan placed the food and drinks on the ground. Frypan chuckled, if it wasn't for Newt he wouldn't have made those cookies for them. Supplies were hard to get so they had to be careful with using it.

It was almost sundown by the time they had finished, their hands red from all the work. "Whew, we did it." Thomas said with a smile, sitting back and admiring their hardwork.

"It looks great, lads." Newt's british-accented voice said behind them. They all whipped their heads back to see Newt carrying the baby in his hands.

Chuck was the first to stand up. "May I see him?" Chuck asked Newt with adoration in his eyes. Newt crouched down, Corbyn safely in his hands. Chuck's face was filled with awe and adoration when he saw Corbyn's face. Corbyn looked to be just a bit under a year or a year old.

"He's so cute!" Chuck exclaimed, being careful not to scream. "He's the cutest thing to ever live in this glade!"

Minho scoffed. "How can he be when I'm here?"

Chuck looked back at Minho. "He's tiny! You're just.." Chuck paused for a few moments, as if looking for a word to describe the keeper of the runners. "Big. You're big. It's nothing cute. " Chuck smirked slightly, thinking he'd offended Minho.

"Oh, trust me. I am big. It's sexy as shuck." Minho smirked and winked, Thomas laughing at his side. Minho laughed along when he saw Newt rolled his eyes. Chuck, not understanding anything, looked back at Corbyn and poked his little baby cheeks.

Newt shook his head disapprovingly at Minho. Newt couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip from his mouth. He was a bit grateful that the baby wasn't old enough to understand or repeat those words. Newt stood up slowly, his legs a bit sore after holding his crouching position. Corbyn gurgled and clapped his tiny chubby hands, looking at Newt with his soft caramel eyes. Newt couldn't help but stare at the baby's beautiful eyes, it was much like his own.

"Try it out, Newt. Put the tiny human in the jail-like bed that we great men made." Minho said, smirking proudly. Smirking was one of Minho's habits. Scowling or smirking was all he does, rarely a real smile.