A/n: This got out of hand. Also, this is for whoever answered my poll on my page and asked for me to write more Maze Runner stuff. This is for you.

Pairing: Newt/Thomas (pre-slash)

Universe: Bookverse

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, so don't sue. This is slash, but don't bother to bash.

Dinnertime was a time for relaxing, to unwind after a days' worth of work. Being assigned to the hard working Builders wasn't something that the newbie liked too much, especially because the Keeper was the bully, Gally - who kept a wary look in his eyes when he watched the brunette. Unfortunately, he had seemed a bit skilled at it. So it had been with solemnity that the freckled boy stabbed his soup moodily with his spoon. Chuck wheezes out a laugh, chatting to one of the newer boys - the one before Chuck and thus Thomas - and doesn't pay much attention to Thomas' sour mood, aside from non too gentle jabs in the ribs to get him to join in the conversation.

"What's upsettin' you, shank?" Thomas looks up, eyes squinting and a disgruntled expression on his face until he realizes who spoke, even though the odd-accented voice gave it away. Newt flashes him a worried smile, thin lips pulled into a soft curve, hair swiped behind his ears and swept behind his shoulders. He was dressed in a pale and thin sweater with a low neckline. He sits himself down across from the brunette and shoots another worried look his way. "..Tommy?"

"D'you think I'll be placed with the builders?" Thomas says, furrowing his brows. Newt mimics the action and runs his hand along the back of his neck.

"Shucks, Tommy, I don't really think that'd be up to me, exactly," Newt says carefully. "Hey, if it matters any, you still have to make the rounds with the other keepers before we decide on one." He levels his gaze when he continues, "Then, maybe after, I could recommend you for being a runner if you're still on about it. Good that?"

Thomas flashes his friend a grin, looking pleased with this new development. "Good that." He takes a sip from his soup and finds that it has cooled but it's fine with him, because the flavours are nice enough. When he looks up, he's noticed Newt furrowing his brow and leaning back. Thomas watches while the golden-haired angel - Whoa, there, Thomas - brushes his bangs behind his ears. When Newt leans forward, his blond hair tumbles from it's place and is dangerously close to falling into his soup. The absolutely frustrated expression on Newt's face causes the brunette to almost choke on his soup, and he has to bring a fist to his mouth to cough into. When Newt's dismayed eyes turn on him, Thomas offers an almost shamed grin. Almost. "Sorry."

"What're laughin' at, shank?" Newt purses his lips, looking unimpressed, ignoring Thomas' apology.

"It looks like you're having some trouble there," Thomas says, eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth as he motions to his hair.

Newt sighs, and begins to smooth his hair behind his ears again, "You really think so, Tommy?" He rolls his eyes fondly, "Yea, well, this is what I get for havin' long hair. Trust you me, sometimes it's not worth it."

"Maybe you should cut it," Thomas suggests, but twitches in surprise at the older boy's unimpressed look, and quickly throws his hands up in a submissive gesture. "Or not."

Newt offers tentative smile at Thomas' quick defence before shrugging, "S'course not," He leans forward again but seems to think better of it and tries to awkwardly bring his spoon to his lips without moving his head too much. He looks forlornly at his soup bowl. "Just never liked it short, that's all." When the second-in-command finally leans back and sighs, the brunette finally decides that he's had enough.

Turning to his almost-sort of-friend to his left, he asks of the much younger boy, "Do you have any ponytails or strings?" Chuck narrows his eyes at him, slowly munching on his bread before swallowing. The boy that he was talking to looks between them in confusion. Chuck was Thomas' best bet- as a slopper, he'd likely come across lots of stray pieces. Chuck's expression clears before he shrugs and takes another noisy sip of his soup before digging into his pocket and hands a couple of ponytails over. How Thomas knew what a ponytail was, he didn't know, because he's never used them before in his life, as far as he knew. Still, his memory was a fickle thing. "Thanks, shank," he claps Chuck on the shoulder, flashes an apologetic smile when the younger boy nearly chokes on his soup, and parades around the table, where Newt and another older Glader watches him with a confused expression.

"Ponytail or braids?" Thomas asks as he sits himself on the bench next to Newt. He was about to fall over because of how little room there was, but when he swings a leg over onto the other side, he is much more comfortable.

Newt looks like the very definition of confused when he opens his mouth, furrowing his brows. "I don't ... bloody hell, Tommy, what're you plannin' on doing?" He narrows his eyes at the younger boy who flashes him a half-forced smile. There is no anger in his voice, just puzzlement.

"Makin' you nice and pretty, what're you think I'm doing?" Thomas teases, but then he realizes that maybe he's said the wrong thing because Newt's eyebrows shoot up when he heard that.

"What? You don't think I'm already pretty?" he sounds amused, his mocha-colored eyes watching Thomas' face for any expression change.

Thomas bites the inside of his cheek, contemplates briefly on what he's going to say, before his brain to mouth filter breaks and he mumbles, "I've always thought you were fairly handsome, Newt." The blond ducks his head in surprise, looking downright surprised at the flirtation, before he squints his eyes skeptically at the brunette, his voice thick,

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Thomas smiles, feeling his face warm. Newt looks at him through his fringe, his blond hair acting as a blanket of protection before he smiles a bit crookedly, as if he's unsure that Thomas is being serious. "I just want to help; maybe it'd be better. Good that?"

"Good that," Newt replied, resting his wrists along the table top briefly before he turns and meets Thomas' eyes with a gentle smile. "Fine, make me 'nice and pretty'." His eyebrows raise, but instead of looking overly flustered, he actually looks intrigued at what the other plans on doing. Thomas returns the smile and scoots forward a bit, and slides the ponytail down his wrist before he reaches out to touch Newt's hair. He's startled by how not-rough it is, how he'd expect it with the older boy always being in the sun and none of them owning a proper brush, but it's fairly free of tangles. He snaps out of his reverie when he feels Newt shift beneath him and instead he gently pulls Newt's hair behind in a ponytail like fashion. Again, weird memory lapses.

Newt doesn't even seem bothered that Thomas is touching his hair, nor seem to mind, because he's closed his eyes and just let Thomas do what he wants to. When Thomas brings Newt's hair away from his neck he realizes how unlikely it is that Newt really pulled his hair up at all, because he's a couple noticeable shades lighter where his hair was and presumably in long strips along his shoulder because he really only wears that tank top and shorts because of how hot it gets. Thomas swallows with some difficulty and brings all of Newt's hair back in a single spot and ties it off after slipping the ponytail off. It takes a couple tries, but with the spare ponytail he has, he manages to get it to form a slightly misshapen bun.

At the very least, it keeps Newt's hair out of his face, no matter how messily done it is. "Thanks, Tommy," Newt says, blinking over at him. He doesn't even look feminine, with his hair pulled back like that, it just seems really .. nice; it suits him. With his facial features not obscured by strands of blond hair, Thomas notices things he's never quite noticed before. Like how Newt totally looks kissable, even though he's always thought that. He notices how clear and tanned his skin is, how his eyes are dark even and inviting and he just wants to lean in forever and fall into the abyss. Maybe he shouldn't notice this, but Newt actually has a very nice neck, too, long and graceful and free of marks. Newt says something else, and Thomas looks back up, focusing on his lips and maybe he just really wants to kiss that smile away - but in a good way -, make Newt's eyes close and have Thomas' name be the only thing that leaves his lips like a fervent prayer and maybe - ..

"Tommy?"

He jerks back, realizing how close he had been to Newt's face. "Sorry," he says, bouncing his leg and averting his gaze. He looks back at Newt, and wonders, not for the first time, if he's the only one who feels this way. Was Newt leaning in, too? "So, who am I going to be working with tomorrow?" He changes the topic from whatever it was before, ignoring how Newt's eyes never leave his face. He wouldn't have looked too much into it until he feels Newt's leg brush very slightly against his knee, and a crooked smile lighting the blond's face. Thank the Creators that I was around to see an angel like you, Thomas thinks while he smiles at the second-in-command.

"Well, how do you feel about baggers?"