The healer [Maze runner Newt x OC]

Grace lingered near the shower house door, gnawing at her bottom lip as her concern grew. Newt had been in there for a long time, and knowing how much strain his injured leg caused him, she couldn't shake the feeling that something might be wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The humid air clung to her skin as she called out tentatively, "Newt? You alright? You've been in here a while."

A faint voice answered over the sound of running water. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just forgot my towel. Could you pass it to me?"

Grace's cheeks warmed instantly, but she grabbed the towel from where it was folded neatly on a nearby bench. Turning her head firmly toward the wall, she held it out in his direction. "Okay, you can grab it now."

She heard the shower door creak open and the quick movement of water-dampened feet. Then came the unmistakable sound of Newt's soft chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me right now?" she asked, a mixture of indignation and embarrassment coloring her voice.

"Absolutely," he said with amusement. "You look ridiculous staring at the wall like it's going to bite you."

"Well, excuse me for respecting your privacy," she shot back, though her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

The next moment, strong arms suddenly grabbed her waist. Before she could protest, Newt spun her into the spray of the shower, soaking her instantly.

"Newt!" she shrieked, sputtering as water streamed down her face.

He was laughing outright now, the sound infectious despite her indignation. Grace turned around quickly, ready to give him an earful, but her words caught in her throat when her gaze met his. Her hands landed instinctively on his bare chest, and her cheeks burned as she realized how close they were.

"Y-You're impossible," she managed to stammer.

He gave her a crooked grin before leaning in and capturing her lips in a kiss. His hands settled on her waist, steady and warm, as her arms slid around his neck. Her fingers tangled in the damp strands of his hair, pulling him closer as her initial surprise melted into the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, she tried to regain her breath, her cheeks impossibly warm. "Newt," she muttered, her voice exasperated but soft, "you're practically naked."

He smirked, unbothered. "And?"

"And," she said firmly, stepping back, though her hands lingered on his shoulders, "I'm happy to make out with you after you're dressed."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference," she replied with a raised brow, "is that I won't have to worry about that towel slipping and showing me things I'm definitely not ready to see."

Newt chuckled, his expression teasing as he gently brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. "Alright, alright. I'll get dressed. Spoilsport."

"Thank you," she said with exaggerated politeness, giving him a playful glare before stepping out of the shower stall.

As Grace walked out of the shower house, smoothing her damp hair, she nearly collided with Minho. His eyes flicked between her soaked clothes and flushed face, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward in amusement.

"Well, well," he drawled, crossing his arms. "Have fun in there?"

"Shut up," Grace shot back, her voice sharp but her cheeks betraying her. "Nothing happened. We just... made out a bit."

"Uh-huh. Sure." Minho's grin widened as he leaned casually against the wall. "You're blushing like crazy. So either you're lying, or Newt's gotten very good at kissing."