Maze Runner Imagines and Preferences

First fight part II - Gally

*your perspective*

It's hot in the Glade. I squint into the sun, eyeing everyone out working their various jobs, most of them shirtless.

"(Y/N)," I realise Frypan was talking to me, and I quickly spin back to him.

"Yeah?"

"Doesn't matter," he smiles.

"No," I wave a hand at the guy, "I wasn't listening, sorry."

"I know, I kinda get the feeling that if you had been listening you would've called bullshit about two minutes ago." Seeing my raised eyebrow, he elaborates.

"I was telling you the thrilling story of how I remembered when I was a kid I got captured by medieval pirates and sold into a slave market where I single-handedly fought off the entire Navy."

"Oh," I laugh, "sounds totally plausible." He shakes his head at my sarcasm.

"Come over here and chop onions, I should get the water on."

I do so, trying not to cry as much as I possibly can. I'm extra sensitive to onions, and ever since I got pregnant it's been ten times worse. I look down at my bump now, it's sort of hard not to when I'm almost due. I find myself getting side-tracked by thoughts of my baby, what its life will be like, what we'll call it, how we can possibly manage to raise a child in the Glade...

Right on cue, the father of said child appears across the kitchen counter, his muscled body gleaming with sweat.

"Hey princess," Gally says, a small smile playing around his lips.

"What do you want," I ask, still chopping onions.

"Newt told me to bring these over to you guys," he dumps a bunch of carrots in the sink, dirt still clinging to their roots.

"Ah," Frypan inspects them, "perfect. Thanks, Gally."

"No problem," my boyfriend pushes off the bench, turning to go.

"Nice chat," I call after him, but get no response.

Honestly, it annoys me how much he works. He's constantly out, doing everything he can whenever he can, he never has time for anything else. I love that he's a hard worker, that he gets things done and earns his spot as a Keeper, but seriously, I wish he'd take some down time for once.

"What's up?" Frypan asks as I forcefully scrap the diced onions into the frypan.

"Nothing," I lie, though even to myself I sound huffy and cross.

"That's a lie," the cook says, splashing oil into the mixture.

"It's just..." I stand back, pushing flyaway hairs out of my face. "I feel like he never does anything but work."

"You mean Gally?"

"Duh," I roll my eyes, "what's gonna happen when this baby comes? When he's a dad?"

My best friend frowns, stirring the onions pensively.

"I'm not a therapist," he says after a while, "but I think maybe you should talk to him. Not now-!" he adds quickly, "not when you're mad at him. Do it later."

"But..."

"No, you help me with this, then you do it after dinner."

I guess he has a point, if I talk to Gally now, I'll just get angry and end up yelling at him.

"Ok," I mutter, "guess you're right."

It won't be long until the runners get back, then we'll serve up the food and once I've finished with the dishes I'll talk to Gally.

"Hey," I slide down on the bed beside Gally, wiping my still-damp hands on my pants. One of the good things about being the only girl is my hut. Actually, it's more of a screened off shelter with a roof and a bed.

"Hey," he says, kissing my cheek lightly.

"I've been thinking," I hesitate, a knot of anxiety twisting my gut.

"Hm?"

"I feel like you're always working," I start off, trying not to sound like I'm accusing him.

"Um, ok," he sounds unsure, like he doesn't know where I'm going with this.

"And I'm thinking about what will happen when the baby comes..."

"You're worried that I won't be a good dad?"

That escalated quickly.

"No," I say hastily, "no, I think you'll be a great dad, I just think that you spend all your time at work, and never take downtime."

"So you're worried that when the baby comes I'll spend all my time working and won't do anything to help you?" He sounds hurt, and I realise that maybe this conversation wasn't a good idea.

"It's ok," I say, "we don't have to talk about this."

"No," he turns to face me, "I think we do. That's your problem, (Y/N), you never face up to uncomfortable conversations. You always back down and then things just fester."

Now he's attacking me? What the hell?

"I don't just back down," I say defensively, "maybe if you spent more time actually with me than working you'd see that!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" he sighs, running a hand through his short hair.

"You always prioritise working, you never have any time for anything else!"

"I don't prioritise work..."

"Yes you do!"

"You're just clingy," he says.

"I'm not..."

"You are, otherwise you wouldn't be complaining."

"And now I'm the bad guy," I roll my eyes, laying as much sarcasm and spite into the words as I can.

"You know what?" Gally gets up from beside me, walking towards the door. "I'm done."

"Gally wait!" I yell, heaving myself up to follow after him.

"What, (Y/N)?" he turns in the doorway, the dim light silhouetting his tall figure.

"I..." I can't find the words. "I'm sorry," I say softly, "I didn't mean what I said, I know that I sometimes back away from any confrontation, even when it's necessary."

We're both silent for a minute, and I almost turn around and go to bed when he sighs.

"(Y/N)," he steps back into the room, "I'm sorry you feel like I spend all my time at work, I just... I guess it's sort of like a release. I can just do what I'm good at, and I like it. And you're not clingy, that was dumb of me to say."

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thankyou," I smile, absently running a hand over my belly.

"It's ok," he smiles, "I know you find it hard to admit things sometimes."

"You're right there," I laugh ruefully, pushing my hair back off my face, "can we go to bed now?"

"Yeah, of course baby."