Hi, I'm a 22-year-old woman who somehow avoided the four solid years of The Maze Runner series hype (despite being a teenage girl at the time) and has only just watched the films last week in the midst of a depressive episode. I now have a new hyper-fixation and FAT crush on Will Poulter. So have this shamelessly self-indulgent garbage, because I don't understand why so many of you bitches simp for Newt's skinny twink ass when the tall strong builder boy with freckles is RIGHT there.

I haven't read the books, so this is mostly based on the movies and whatever information I could find on the Wiki page.

Marie

Marie worked in the kitchen. At first, there had been a lot of stupid comments about her belonging there, or it being the only job for a girl. But Frypan didn't give her the job because she was the only girl. He gave her the job because she was good at it, as the boys soon came to find. They also came to find it wasn't a good idea to mess with her, after Marie had sneakily dumped enormous amounts of salt into their bowls at dinner.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you." She had told the offending shanks. They learnt their lesson, and she was afforded the same begrudging mutual respect that was given to the other Gladers. Truth be told, Marie liked her job. Cooking felt… familiar. Comforting. Frypan and Jim were good company, she got to avoid the fierce sun in the shady confines of the kitchen, and her tasty meals had quickly made her popular. Plus, there was something immensely gratifying in the way the Gladers eyes lit up at the smell of fresh baked bread in the morning, or at the sight of a hearty stew at the end of a long day. Here in the Glade they only had each other, so if she could provide her family some much-needed comfort through good food, then she was happy to help.

Today was Box day, and Marie was in a rare excellent mood. The box had held the spices she'd been asking for and a new pig to fatten up, the Greenie looked like a promising new Builder, and tonight she would have the chance to let loose a little at the bonfire. The good mood seemed to be infectious, as Frypan was encouraging her humming for once instead of asking her to shut the shuck up.

"You gonna perform for us tonight songbird?" He called over.

"Depends how much of Gally's brew I drink!" She shot back, and Frypan and Jim both laughed.

Box days were also a favourite of Marie's because dinner was always a barbeque, which meant no prep time chopping veggies or peeling potatoes. The three of them worked efficiently together, and before long they were piling up the dishes for the Sloppers to take care of. Frypan dismissed them for the day, and Marie headed straight to the showers. The smell of the kitchen had a habit of clinging to her skin, and she'd rather not reek of meat and grease at the bonfire. Especially not when Gally would be there…

Marie's feelings for the Keeper of the Builders was her most closely guarded secret. She already faced enough teasing and ribbing just for being a girl, good natured though it may be. She couldn't imagine how badly she'd be ridiculed if any of the Gladers found out about her little crush. But try as she might, she just couldn't shake her feelings for Gally. At first she had tried to tell herself it was just physical. He was tall, and broad shouldered, and strong, and she was only human. It was only skin-deep, there was no depth to her feelings. But after a few months in the Glade, Marie had to accept the truth. She liked Gally because he was a good leader and (as much as he tried to hide it) a good person. She saw how he would pretend to be a hardass in front of new Greenies, but it was his voice she overheard in the dead of night, quietly talking to the kid who'd woken up from the terrible nightmares they all had. He would roll his eyes when Alby got a little too tipsy and started calling them all his family, but it was Gally who worked into the night, checking the stability and safety of every building his team put together. Gally had grumbled the loudest when Marie had come up in the box, complaining she'd only distract the Gladers from their duties, but a week later he'd come to her with a scribbly sketched plan for her own little room off the side of the Homestead, mumbling that she might want some privacy. All Gally wanted was to keep everyone safe. He was caring, and dedicated, and thoughtful, even if he didn't want to show it.

And Marie was head over heels for the big lump.

After swinging by homestead for what passed for a towel in the Glade and a change of clothes, Marie headed to the shower block to rinse off the day, making sure to triple check the lock on her cubicle door. Every shower stall had a little block of citrus-smelling soap kept on a shelf, but Marie strongly suspected most of the boys just used plain water to rinse off. Shortly after Marie's arrival, and a lot of loud complaining about what the bars of soap were doing to her hair, the Providers had started sending up little bottles of liquid soap, labelled "for hair". It smelled lovely, like mint and fresh grass, and Marie had to start hiding the little luxuries after she noticed it disappearing rather quickly. Coincidentally, Dan's hair at the time had been looking particularly soft and shiny.

Marie hummed happily as she lathered up her hair, picking up the tune she'd sang earlier in the kitchen. It was a song she only half remembered, the tune more muscle memory than actual memory, but she knew it told a story. Something about a lassie, and lovers meeting on a mountain, with wildflowers and a crystal fountain. Marie wasn't sure what a "lassie" was, but she thought it must be a girl. She was just thinking about asking Newt if he knew (he was always saying all kinds of weird words) when the door to the shower block banged open.

"That you making all that racket in here girlie?" Gally's voice rang out through the steam of the room. Trying not to panic, Marie raced to come up with a witty come back.

"No, it's obviously Minho. Don't you recognise my high feminine voice?"

On the other side of the door, Gally snorted.

"Certainly recognise those dainty little feet of his."

Marie shuffled further away from the door, pulling her feet out of his view.

"You better not be trying to peek, or I swear I'll tell Alby what a creepy shank you are!"

"You wish," the gruff voice shot back, now coming from the right of Marie. "I'm just here for a shower girlie, calm down."

As if on cue, Marie heard the water start in the cubicle next to hers. Oh, shuck, Marie thought, he's right there! The thought of a wet, naked Gally right through that thin dividing wall was making her head spin. She looked up, panicking that he could somehow see her, but the wall between them was tall enough that she could only see the waterspout, and the very top of his head about a foot above her. Marie realised that if he stood on his tiptoes, he could easily look down into her cubicle. Would that be so bad? A little voice asked.

Time to get out, Marie told herself sharply, shutting off the water and reaching for her towel. She dried off quickly, squeezing the worst of the water out of her thick auburn hair, and reached for her clean clothes. Underwear, shorts, socks, her only bra…

"Shuck."

"What is it girlie?"

"I forgot my shirt." Truly, Marie astounded even herself with her talent for landing herself in awkward situations.

"What's wrong with the one you were wearing before?" Gally asked, ever the pragmatist. Marie looked to where she had dumped her dirty clothes.

"Well, aside from being covered in kitchen clunk, it's in a soaking wet pile on the floor."

Next door, Gally guffawed.

"Glad to know my pain amuses you, Captain."

"Watch it girlie." God, but Marie loved that warning tone. Gally always spoke easily, with the self-assurance of a man twice his age who was used to being listened to, but on the odd occasion he was challenged his voice took on this stern note. Like he wasn't afraid to prove just why he had been put in charge. Marie loved pushing him just enough to make that voice come out, and Gally's stupid nickname was usually the quickest way to rile him up.

"Here," Marie was startled out of her thoughts when a soft noise hit the wall beside her. "Wear this for now." It was a worn looking dark grey hoodie, and Marie recognised it as the one Gally always wore on colder nights.

"Are you sure? What will you wear?"

"Nothing."

Marie's brain may have short circuited. Oh, shuck me.

"No-one's gonna ogle at me if I walk from here to the Homestead without a shirt. Hell, before you came along, on real hot days none of us bothered with anything more than shorts," Marie's imagination was working overtime, she was sure her face was scarlet red. "But then Alby started giving off to us about sun-burn and not making you uncomfortable. I reckon he was probably just jealous of my abs."

Was this happening? Or had Marie slipped in the shower and brained herself on the floor? Surely she must be hallucinating, because there was no other reason that Gally would be flirting with her. Was this flirting? It certainly wasn't their normal type of conversation. Shucking abs?!

"You still there girlie?"

"Uh yeah," Marie said, far too loud in the small space. She pulled the hoodie over her head, leaving her wet hair hanging down her back for now. "Thanks, I'll see you at the bonfire."

"No problem." Gally barely had time to get out before Marie had scooped up her belongings and fled the shower block. It was only once she got back to Homestead she finally realised she had run the whole way barefoot.

She resolutely did not watch out the window for Gally walking back from the showers.

Gally

She'd braided her shucking hair.

Gally loved and hated it when she did that. Loved it, because it kept her hair out of her smiling face, and he could see her bright eyes easier, the twinkling reflection of the glowing fire. Loved it, because tomorrow it would be all curly and kinky from drying overnight in the braided pattern, flowing down her back in gentle waves. Hated it, because all the other shanks in the Glade got to see it too. Gally knew he wasn't the only boy in the Glade who liked Marie. Hell, there were very few boys in the Glade who didn't like Marie. She was the only girl, Gally figured it was natural. But shuck if it didn't bother him. It was why he'd built Marie her own room, put doors on the shower stalls. Regularly beat the klunk out of the shanks that stared at her the most in the fighting circle. Something in him just wanted to hide her away from the rest of the boys, keep her safe and protected. He knew his jealousy wasn't healthy, and Marie would probably chew him out if she ever found out how he felt. She'd call Gally some big word that would make him feel stupid and small. Gally hated feeling stupid and small, so he kept his troublesome thoughts to himself.

Tonight Gally was having a hard time, because not only was her hair braided, but Marie was still wearing his hoodie from earlier. Just like the braids, he simultaneously loved and hated it. Loved it because it was so big on her, she had to roll the sleeves up to clutch at her mug of brew. Loved it because he knew every klunk-head in this stupid Glade recognised the hoodie as his. Hated it because he also knew they were all assuming things about him and Marie, things that weren't true. Things that he desperately wanted to be true. All night he'd caught boys looking back and forward between her and him, whispering to each other and sharing sly grins. He'd challenged three of them to fights in the circle already, taking a savage satisfaction in how soundly he beat them. Gally had spent most of the night either in the sand circle or walking back and forth to the makeshift bar to refill his jar of moonshine. He was now good and drunk, and staring through the fire at Marie, decided it was an excellent time to ask for his hoodie back. He knew he couldn't let her keep it, as much as he might want to. It was causing trouble, and Gally didn't like trouble.

Making up his mind, the builder stood from his perch and marched decisively towards where she was sitting with Ben. The Runner saw him coming first, and nudged Marie with something like a knowing grin on his face. Gally frowned. He didn't like that. What did he know? Marie turned her head towards Gally and gave him one of her brilliant smiles. He didn't stumble. He swears he didn't. There was a patch of uneven ground was all. Shuck, maybe he was drunker than he thought. Ben stood to leave as Gally arrived, thumping the Builder on the back as he gave him his seat.

"Hi." She says quietly, smiling up at him.

"Hey," he replies, and then not wasting any time, "I need my hoodie back."

Marie's smile falters, and he sees her finger the soft edge of the sleeve.

"Sorry I guess I kinda stole it huh? Um, can I get it back to you tomorrow?"

"I'd like it now." Gally watches with rapt fascination as a pretty blush steals across Marie's cheeks, and her gaze lowers to the floor.

"I can't… I'm not wearing anything underneath."

This was not part of the plan. Gally clears his throat, and resolutely does not look at her chest.

"Tomorrow's fine."

Her smile comes back, more hesitant this time, and she takes a sip of her drink. Gally notices she doesn't grimace like she usually would.

"You getting used to it, or am I getting better at making it?" He gestures to her chipped mug.

"Neither," she says, and offers him the mug. "I added a little something myself."

"The shuck, girlie? You think you can do better than me?" Marie rolls her eyes at his posturing, and pushes the mug into his hands.

"Would you trust me? Just try it."

Gally decides to oblige her, just this once, and takes a sip from the mug. And then another. And then another. The drink was sweeter, something spicey at the back of it. She'd managed to soften the strong bitter aftertaste.

"This is good," he admits. "What's in it?"

Marie beams at him as if he'd just told her it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"Just some sugar and cinnamon."

"Tastes like apple pie." Marie smiles at him again, and gently takes the mug back from him. Gally tries not to think about how soft her hands when they brush against his own callused paws.

The two of them sit together in silence for a while, but Gally notices it doesn't feel uncomfortable. It's not awkward, he doesn't feel the need to fill it, and he's relieved when Marie doesn't seem to either. He takes a sip of his own glass of brew but his mouth puckers at the taste after trying Marie's. Maybe it was time for a recipe change. Although he wasn't sure how he'd convince Frypan to give him all that sugar, it was a rare enough substance. Maybe Gally would make a small batch, just for Marie. He thought she'd appreciate that. Maybe it would make up for how much of a shank he'd been when she first came up.

Gally didn't like change. And a girl coming up in the box had been a pretty shucking big change. It had been Newt who had seen her first, his accent carrying across the Glade as he'd hollered in shock "It's a girl!" Almost immediately every dumb shank had started pushing and shoving for a better look into the Box, trying to see the girl who'd crammed herself behind a crate in the corner. Alby had tried to diffuse the situation by sending the Gladers on their way, but Gally could see in the way she pulled her knees to her chest the damage had already been done. Marie had heard the stupid comments they'd been making about the providers rewarding them, that she better be hot, arguing over who got "first dibs". Gally remembered thinking this girl wasn't even out of the Box yet and she was causing trouble.

Alby had thought the best way to ease her into life in the Glade was to introduce her to the Keepers first, to make sure she knew who was in charge and how things worked here away from the prying eyes of the Gladers. Gally hadn't liked it, felt like it was preferential treatment. No other Glader got treated like this when they came up, and he said as much at the Keepers meeting.

"Girl or not, she has to toughen up," He'd said to the others, "This is the Glade. Girlie here has to do her part like everyone else." He remembered watching with a weird satisfaction as Marie had scowled up at him.

"My name isn't girlie." She had stood then, brushing off her shorts and tilting her head back to look him dead in the eye. "It's Marie, asshole."

Gally would never admit how much he'd liked the way she stood up to him.

"I think I've been kind of a shank to you girlie." He spoke suddenly into the silence and Marie started beside him, jostling into his side. He tried not to overthink it when she didn't pull back away from him.

"It's okay." She murmured, staring off into the fire.

"No, seriously," He has to get this off his chest now, he can feel it starting to well up inside him. Shuck, he really was drunk. "When you first got here I thought you were trouble. I thought you'd distract the guys from their jobs, I thought you'd be a soft little girlie cry-baby. But you proved me wrong. You've held your own better than half the shucking idiots in this damn Glade, and you pull more than your weight. Frypan was just saying at the last Keepers meeting you work harder than any other shank he's had in his kitchen before." He snorts into his drink. "You cook better too."

This gets a laugh out of her, a bright happy sound that has a number of boys looking over. Gally tries not to let his ego inflate knowing he was the reason she made that sound.

"I knew you only liked me for my cooking!"

"Not true," He can hear himself saying, and oh klunk he couldn't stop it. "Like your singing too." Marie looks at him strangely then, raising her eyebrow.

"You called it a racket just this afternoon Gally." He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively.

"Didn't mean it girlie, I swear." For a minute, Gally wonders if he's really going to do this right now. But then he looks at Marie, at her shining eyes, at the way her skin glows in the orange light of the fire. Sitting there tucked against his side in his hoodie, and he decides shuck it.

"Sing for me Marie?"

Marie

He's drunk.

"You're drunk." Marie tells Gally, and watches as the builder only blinks at her, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Might be. Still wanna hear you sing for me though." Marie rolls her eyes, trying to pretend that the way he was talking to her right now wasn't causing her insides to do backflips. He might be drunk, but Marie was feeling a little tipsy herself. Looking down into the remains of her drink, she makes a bold decision; she throws back what's left of her drink, clears her throat and straightens her back.

Then, softly, she begins to sing.

She's not the best singer, she knows that. Her voice is a little reedy sometimes, and it cracks on some of the higher notes. But it's strong, and the song is sweet. Marie allows herself to get caught up in the feeling of it, and sings as much of it as she can remember. It's only when she finishes the last chorus that she realises the Glade is silent. Then suddenly, it's filled with whoops, clapping and hollering. Marie turns scarlet in embarrassment, having not realised the whole bonfire had stopped to listen to her. She smiles shyly, stuttering out thanks as the applause dies down.

"Told you she was a songbird!" Shouts Frypan from the other side of the fire.

"See?" There's a voice in her ear, and an arm around her shoulders. "You brighten up the place girlie." Marie's sure her face is hot enough to fry an egg on she's blushing so hard. Alby stands then, calling an end to the night's festivities. Some boys remain for a few moments to help put out the fire and pile up used glasses but most begin to head straight for the homestead. Marie stands and begins to head in the same direction, before she realises Gally hasn't moved.

"You coming, Captain?" She holds out her hand to help him up from the log. Gally gives her a lazy grin and grabs her hand, lurching upright so suddenly he stumbles and nearly collapses into Marie. She lets out a soft "Oof" as he heavily swings his arm around her shoulders, and begins steering her towards the homestead. Marie notices that Gally's leaning heavily on her and dragging his feet, and looks around for someone to help carry him to bed. But the two are alone in the dark of the Glade.

"You're gonna have to help me to bed, girlie." Gally mumbles in her ear, and Marie tries not to flush again at the low rumble of his voice.

"You should be able to handle your liquor better than this Gally," she tells him. "Or maybe don't make the damn stuff so strong."

"Have to," the builder replied, becoming alarmingly monosyllabic. "Helps."

"Helps what?" asks Marie, but Gally only grunts in reply. He's becoming increasingly heavy on her shoulders, and as they reach the homestead Marie realises the impossibility of the task ahead of her; Gally's room was on the top floor of the Homestead.

On her welcome tour around the Glade, Alby had told Marie that the Homestead had originally been a small one room building, just big enough to hang a dozen or so hammocks from the ceiling. But as time had gone on their numbers had doubled, and then tripled, and so the building had been extended a number of times. The building now stood three stories high, a higgledy-piggledy looking but deceptively sturdy building, the latest addition to which stuck out from the left side. Marie's own room was more like a little shed, annexed from the building with a separate door for her ease of access. Looking towards it now, Marie was struck with an idea.

"Okay Captain, we're taking a detour."

Gally grunted again, his head beginning to loll to one side. Marie paused briefly to heft the boy's weight back onto her shoulder, before setting off again, this time towards her little annex. She'd dump Gally on her cot, and then sneak upstairs to sleep in his room for the night. Except when Marie kicked open the door to the shack and attempted to lay Gally's half passed out shank ass on the bed, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

"Gally, let go," She hissed at him, "I have to go." She tugged her arm away, but his grip was firm.

"No," the builder mumbled, "Stay."

Marie's heart lurched in her chest. She wanted to stay, wanted it so badly it hurt. But Gally was drunk, there was no way he meant it in the way she wanted him to. She had to stay strong.

"I can't Gal."

"Can," he replied stubbornly, "Just- c'mere."

She was about to say no again, when the boy opened his eyes a fraction and tugged gently on her arm again.

"Please, Marie?"

Well, how could she say no to that?

"Okay." She murmured, and Gally's eyes closed again as he smiled blissfully.

Slowly, gently, Marie allowed Gally to pull her onto the bed next to him, tried not to gasp aloud as he manhandled her onto her side so they could both fit on the narrow cot. She pulled the covers over the two of them, snuggling down into the thin mattress. When Gally's arm wound itself around her waist and tugged her closer to him, she didn't resist, only sighed gently and leaned back against his broad chest.

Marie knew in the morning there would be questions. Maybe a discussion, but probably an argument. She knew in the cold light of day Gally would regret being so open with her, so vulnerable. He would be angry and embarrassed, and he'd more than likely avoid her for a week until he got over himself. So for now, selfishly, she allows herself to enjoy the closeness, and shuts her eyes against the darkness of the room.

The song Marie sings is a traditional Irish/ Scottish folk song, and it goes by a number of different names, including Go Lassie Go, Wild Mountain Thyme, and Blooming Heather. The title also comes from the song. "Bower" is a Scots word for a shelter, or a retreat. For example, like a little shack on the side on the side of a building where a young girl may retreat to for privacy. Ahem.