Warnings: Minho. Is. Thoroughly. Annoyed.

I just needed to write something silly… plus exasperated Minho gives me life

What Minho Thinks

You know what sucks?

Being me.

Oh, no, no. Don't take it the wrong way. Being me is great, really. I mean, what with the hair, the face, the arms, the legs, the body... basically all of me... I'm awesome.

But what really sucks about being me is watching two people who clearly like each other just pine and wallow in denial.

Everything they do just screams couple, but they still just dance around their stupid feelings like their lives depend on it.

Like, just shuck already. Not a big deal.

Alby caught on. Chuck caught on. That girl Teresa caught on. Even Gally caught on and it's frustrating me to hell and back. Everyone knows, except themselves.

It's gotten to a point where everyone's placing bets on when they'll finally get together and confess their undying love or something. Some even say that they're already dating and just hiding it from us. Truth to be told, it wouldn't really surprise me if they were considering how touchy-feely they are with each other.

A heated debate that takes place frequently in the council hall during break is who would top or bottom.

I know what you're thinking. I know.

"Are you serious? Have you seen Tom? He's a small little cinnamon roll that—that's literally begging to be dominated!"

"Nah, Newt's got that limp, you know."

"Plus, Newt's a lot skinnier and lanky—"

"But he's taller, and have you seen him pissed off? I've seen Thomas melt like ice cream in the sun under Newt—"

"Whoa, under?!"

"Not that way, shank!"

Yeah, so that happens. Daily.

"Minho!" Teresa said to me, looking irritated. "Don't you think Newt would definitely top?"

Personally, I guess? I mean, I've seen Newt's temper from time to time and it's scary. It's not too hard to believe that it would happen their relationship... ooookay, I got this really weird mental image, and—you know what, never mind.

"I've... I have no opinion," I declared.

"Oh, come on, he's definitely tops—"

"No, bottom—"

The room fell silent as the wooden door to the council hall opened and Thomas walked into the room.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking genuinely curious, asking questions like the little bugger he was. "Why were you guys were arguing about tops and bottoms?"

Everyone remained silent. How could anyone explain what we were talking about?

Thomas shook his head. "I don't know what the big deal is, guys, I'd just be happy to have a bunk bed at all."

Uhhh, no, Thomas, no.

Everyone let out a breath of relief because it'd be pretty embarrassing if they found out we—I mean, they were discussing. Thank goodness for Thomas's naivety for once.

Yesterday, during dinner, Newt and Thomas—or Tommy, as Newt affectionately calls him—were playing footsie (footsie! I'm not even kidding!) under the table.

Apparently Gally had noticed, and noticed that I noticed, so he kicked me. Not even in a footsie way. He literally kicked me in the shin and mouthed, when are they going to get together?

Okay, I get it man, but couldn't you asked that without kicking me?

I'd also like to point out the moments where they're being sickeningly cute. Like, could they not?

Take, like, I don't know, every day. Thomas and I return from our run in the Maze.

Newt's always waiting by the Doors, looking so. worried. in case Thomas didn't make it back.

Oh, he's probably worried about me as well, but in the grand scheme of their love story, I'm insignificant.

Did I really just say that sentence?

Anyway, we're always greeted by Newt. He'd envelope him in a hug, and Thomas would bury his head into his neck.

Yeah, that's adorable, but hello? Minho here? I want hugs too?!

Oh, and that time when we found this weird sticky Griever stuff in the Maze, I guess we lingered a bit too long, so our arrival was a little too close to the time when the Doors closed.

Man, you should've seen Newt. He was having this mini panic attack, and the look on his face was priceless when his Tommy wasn't back at the Glade on time.

Both of us were pretty knackered once we collapsed to the ground, but Newt was just fussing over his Tommy, checking to see if he was alright and getting him water—I mean, just get married already!

Yeah, yeah, I know they're in love and all, but news flash, I EXIST!

Oh yeah, and then Newt comes and scolds me. ("Minho, I told you, you guys have to be really careful out there. What if you guys didn't make it back? My best friends dead in the Maze—what good'll that do? And Tommy's still learning on how to be a Runner, you have to be responsible!")

And yet they still utter the phrase, we're just friends.

I'm fed up with all this skirting-around-their-feelings nonsense so I'm going to bring together Frypan and Teresa to help me plan something to get them to hook up because if I don't, I'll lose my mind, and that's not good for my hair.

"I say we make one of them jealous," Teresa said, trying to settle in comfortably on the soft forest floor where we were meeting during the night.

"Which one?" Frypan asked, quickly warming to the idea.

I thought for a moment. "Whoever that'll get more jealous and possessive, so I guess..."

"Newt," Teresa said.

"Yeah, Newt," Frypan agreed. "Minho, go kiss Thomas."

I blinked. Did I just hear him correctly? "What? No way, dude."

"Uh, yes way," Teresa said, nodding frantically. "It's a perfect idea! You're practically Thomas's bestie, so what better way to make Newt jealous?"

I turned to her accusingly. "Why not you? You're the one who can talk to him in your head and all the mumbo jumbo. Plus, you're a girl."

"What does me being a girl have to do anything?" Teresa asked, crossing her arms. "In case you haven't noticed, Thomas is just about straight as a circle."

"And so's Newt," Frypan piped up.

"Why don't you kiss him?" I asked Frypan, miffed. I was not going to kiss Thomas. Period. Because I fear the wrath of Newt, who had rather motherhen-like tendacies when it came protectiveness.

Frypan shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who risks your life with him and spends half the day with him in the Maze."

I sighed irritably. I guess there was some logic to Frypan's words.

Besides, how bad could a kiss with Thomas be? A little sloppy at most, it wouldn't be the end of the world. "Okay, but if I get punched by Newt, I'm going blame you guys."

"Go ahead."

"Shut up, Teresa."

There should've been a warning sign to when it comes to existing as Minho. Something like you'll get roped into doing stupid things while looking devastatingly handsome at the same time.

I felt kind of bad, going through with this plan, fully aware of Newt and Thomas's feelings for each other.

Newt's been my best friend since—well, since we arrived here, and Thomas... well, he grew on me, with all those annoying questions and runs together in the Maze.

So there was a bit of trepidation uncurling in my stomach when I boldly walked up to Thomas during dinner, aware Teresa and Frypan were watching me with beady eyes.

"Hey, Minho, what—"

Oh yeah. I kissed him, right then and there.

I could taste the shock on Thomas's lips. The kiss overall wasn't too bad, but all I could think during the kiss was ew ew ew ew ew I'm kissing this shank ew ew ew ew—

And next thing I knew, I was jerked off of Thomas, a nearly predatorial-sounding growl behind me.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Uh oh. It was lizard boy, and he sounded pissed. And Thomas, like expected, looked confused beyond measure.

"Minho," Thomas spluttered. "W-what—what—why did you—?"

I shrugged. Obviously I couldn't tell him the real reason why (because Teresa is a shucking bitch, that's why!) so I just winked, mentally condemning Teresa and Frypan to rot in hell.

There was silence among the Gladers. No one was eating anymore and looked at us in rapt interest instead. There's wasn't even a clatter of silverware.

Thomas was (still) looking confused and Newt was glowering at me like I ran over his puppy. No, even worse; like I ran over his puppy, backed up, and hit it again.

Oh god, I just compared Thomas to a puppy, didn't I? I mean, he does kinda look like one—no, no, I'm getting distracted.

"Newt, I didn't—"

Whatever Thomas was about to say was cut off by Newt yanking him toward himself and kissing him.

Everyone was stunned and staring, moments of silence and shock engulfing the room. Then suddenly, someone let out a cheer, and soon after, everyone else starting whooping and catcalling as they kissed—ugh, more like made out—like there was no tomorrow.

And despite my recoiling, there was this flutter of relief and whew in my chest. I sat back down, smiling slightly in my victory.

Soon Newt's hair was tangled in the brunet's hair, and Thomas's hands were around his neck, and there was tongue, and whoa, PG-13 much?

"Get a room, already!"

Same, Gally. Same.

And they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Thomas gave Newt a shy grin—shy? Why would he be shy when they literally just exchanged saliva in front of everyone?—before looking down, fidgeting with his fingers.

Newt turned to me with narrowed eyes and said, "Don't you bloody dare touch Tommy ever again."

Thomas flushed at everyone's satisfied gaze, scooting closer to Newt.

And I caught Teresa's eyes across the tables and she mouthed, at least you didn't get punched, smiling like the evil person she was.

Did I mention that I wanted to drop kick that she-demon to hell where she belongs?

Newt's prickling gaze made me slightly light-headed and I couldn't get Teresa's smug grin out of my brain. "It was Teresa's fault!" I blurted out.

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy, while Frypan burst out laughing. Teresa had a look of surprise on her face.

"No, Teresa told me to kiss Thomas—"

"Falsehood!" she shrieked. "It was Frypan, you dumb piece of klunk—"

Frypan stood up. "Well, it was your idea to make one of them jealous—"

"Wait! What are you talking about?"

Classic Thomas, always so shucking clueless and asking so. many. questions.

"Well, the idea was for you two," I said, jabbing in the direction of Newt and Thomas, "to hook up because you two are as oblivious as shucking hell. You needed a push."

"So you kissed me?"

"It was Teresa—"

"No! It was Frypan—"

"But Minho's the one who—"

"All of you, just bloody slim it!" Newt said loudly. Everyone shut up, because hell to anyone who denied it, Newt was the 'mom' in the Glade and no one, and I mean no one messes with him when he used that authoritative voice.

"Whoever's fault it was," he said, pointing at the three of us accusingly, "I don't care and I don't want to hear it. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be excusing myself."

Thomas hurriedly mumbled something incomprehensible to everyone and followed Newt out.

I really don't want to know what they did later that night.

Nothing indecent, I hope.

So we come back from a run in the maze, all sweaty and breathless, and like always, Newt is waiting for us. What's different now, though, is that Thomas gets swept into a fierce kiss by him.

I mean, I don't understand, my lungs are usually screaming for air as soon as I come back, so the logic in getting it knocked right back out again by making out right after is...?

And then Newt mumbles against Thomas's mouth to always be careful and to always come back, and Thomas assures that he always would and then there's lil feathery kisses and I'm just waiting there awkwardly 'cause we gotta still map the shucking maze, young'un!

And today, Teresa was smirking at me across the Glade then and I wanted to stab myself in the foot.

"Er, done now?" I asked them, watching them break apart from their routine kiss.

Newt pushed Thomas toward me with a wide grin on his face. "All yours now," he said cheerily.

Wow. I haven't seen Newt this happy in a long time. Not since... well, never mind. The point was that was that he happy again, and it was thanks to Thomas.

I fell into step with the brunet to the map room. I opened my mouth to say something sentimental, or maybe something inspiring about their relationship but I guess the universe thought that didn't sit well with me so the words that unintentionally tumbled out of my mouth were: "Is he a good kisser?"

I wanted to slap myself for asking such a stupid question, but at least it was funny to see Thomas trip and do a face-plant.

Yeah, so being me is still kinda hard, but it's not too bad, I suppose. Life'll always be good when you're Minho. And I'm Minho. Duh.

Lol this kind of turned into a crack-fic and there's was a whole lot of weird top-bottom hanky panky going on ('inspired' by the tmr discourse currently going on at Tumblr for some reason).

Anyway, requests are open to oneshots!

I also want your opinion if you liked reading Newtmas from another person's perspective! (Like this is in Minho's POV, not classically like Newt or Thomas.)