Graves is almost out the door when he hears Newt's footsteps running down the stairs. "Percival? Are you leaving already?"
"Yes. The President has called for a meeting about the World Cup and I'm supposed to present the proposal for security measures." Graves replies, shrugging on his coat. "Is there something you'd like me to pick up for you?"
Newt nods, pulling out a list from his vest pocket. "If you could pick these up for me, that will be most helpful. One of the Squid has contracted a nasty cold and I have to keep watch." Graves pulls a face that makes Newt laugh, patting him on his arm. "Have a good day at work." He smiles.
"Try to remember to eat at some point today. And keep that damn Niffler of my study, unless you want to spoil your Christmas surprise." Graves replies with the beginnings of his replying smile before he Disapparates into an alleyway near the Woolworth Building.
***
They had met for the first time under a canopy of summer flowers on a sweltering August afternoon. His family had attended in their full finery unsuitable for a wedding this simple, while Newt's had tried their best to remain stoic faced, failing at the sight of him walking down the aisle. Graves had been nervous that last week leading up to the big day; no one had asked him what he wanted for the ceremony or the reception after, his mother and cousins had taken over liaising with Newt's family about it, leaving it till that last bubble of time before inquiring whether he would like a black with yellow stripes tie or a midnight blue bow tie to match his suit.
Newt's hand in his at their first meeting had been shaking, unnaturally chilled. It wasn't till later that he learnt about how Newt had been in his suitcase up to the last minute tending to his creatures before his brother had to tear him out by his collar. Newt wouldn't look him in the eye when they exchanged vows, would not meet his gaze when their hands were sealed in their binding spells. They skip the customary kiss. But when he had finally gotten him alone, right before they had to leave the small room they had found refuge in for an agonising hour for pictures, he had assured his new husband that he is no monster and he won't ask for things Newt cannot provide.
After that, Newt had relaxed a little more by his side, going as far as to smile at him before he went to sleep on their marital bed while Graves took the sofa.
***
"... and here, here, and here." Graves signs each form with a flourish. He dismisses his personal secretary, but not before he tells her that he will be taking his lunch now. Making his quick escape before anyone could wave fresh documents (from hell) in his face, Graves definitely does not run and seek refuge in a little No-Maj cafe two blocks away.
"Coffee, black and a short stack." The waitress, Millie, says with a smile when he takes his usual seat. Graves pays her a smile of his own. He likes this place, likes the way everything from the fixtures to the faces of the patrons sit a little worn and hewn. It feels a lot more real than the varnished aesthetics that the Wizarding versions favour. Graves appreciates the feeling he gets here of how he can be just another regular customer, someone who does not have all those responsibilities he has, someone who has his order before he can even ask for it.
His coffee arrives and he curls his palms around it, savouring the heat. Graves picks his cup up, ready to drink before he sees them.
The husband is leaning heavily on his cane, listing to one side. But the wife is supporting him there, a smile on her face as she guides him into the cafe. Graves sees Millie take them to a seat by the window just in his line of sight. The wife seats her husband first before she takes hers, all the while holding his hand. The husband is jittery, shaking in the way that old people do when they have lost control of their bodies but not of their mind. There is a furrow in his brow that his wife notices, leaning over to kiss it away. And the moment she does that, his entire countenance changes. He smiles, lifting her hand in his to kiss. She laughs, the sound silent in the quiet din of the cafe, but Graves imagines that it must sound beautiful.
"Who are they?" He asks when Millie comes to bring him his short stack. "That couple by the window?"
"Oh, them? Mr and Mrs Carter, they are. Sweet as honey those two. Told me that they've been married 59 years next week and apparently they'd rented out the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria for the celebration! All their kids, their kids and some of their kid's kids are coming from all over for the do. When I asked her how they did it, she told me that the key is to constantly learn something new about your partner. They were an arranged marriage, you see? Didn't meet until the day of their wedding, but he told me that he fell in love the first time he saw her." Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispers, "The Mrs also told me that he was a bit of a Casanova back in the day, and then told me she's inviting all of his former lady friends just to rub it in their faces that she got the man and not them. Personally, I think she's just fibbing about rubbing it in their faces. People like her are too happy to care what others may think about them, and that is what makes it annoying. They do it without thinking." Millie steps away with a shrug.
Graves shakes his head, grinning all the same as he cuts into his food. Millie leaves, but he sneaks quick looks their way as he eats. Watching the way she wipes away the drool on the corner of the husband's mouth, cutting up his food for him, feeding him. Something unsettling creeps into him then, wrapping around his chest like a hollow grip. Graves rubs his thumb over his wedding band, one he has not taken off since the day it was slipped on three years ago, and cannot help but to wonder.
***
Newt, of course, does not notice his strange mood when he returns home. The squid has a cold after all.
He had knocked on the door to the room they had converted for the habitats, presenting the items on Newt's list, be on the receiving end of a wide smile before the door is shut in his face. Swallowing and folding his hands behind him, Graves goes to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
The calendar Newt keeps by the door, at his insistence after he discovered in the early days just how often his new husband would disappear for days and weeks on end to 'rescue and rehabilitate' those 'poor, poor creatures but Graves I could let those poachers get away with those eggs even though I knew it would harm me'. For his own sanity, he had begged. And Newt does a pretty good job of marking down where he is going, and for how long he will be gone. Graves runs his thumb over a marking for a trip two months ago when he had returned with fresh wounds and more Occamy eggs, promptly keeling over the moment he stepped through the front door. Graves had felt a sort of utter helplessness then, something like how he feels now. Except now, he can probably put a name to that emotion. And, as much as the thought alone scares him, how he is hoping that it could happen in his marriage.
It takes a full week for the squid to be well enough, and another two days before Newt notices the strange mood.
"What's gotten into you?" He asks, squinting his eyes. It is a rare Saturday afternoon where both of them are sitting by the fire; Graves with a half-read book on his lap and his eyes on the grey skies outside, while Newt has the Bowtruckle perched on his head and Dougal, the Demiguise, on his lap. He isn't wearing his wedding ring, but he never does inside their home. "You seem... Very far away."
Graves has an apology on his tongue that he bites back, choosing to set the book aside. Taking Newt's free hand in his, he clears his throat. Graves wants to ask him if he had ever wanted more, if he had ever thought they could have more. He wants to ask Newt whether the idea of having a marriage filled with love, romantic love, was possible enough that it outweighed the risk of losing whatever comfortable medium they had landed since that day they exchanged vows that bound them to each other. But what comes out is, "Do you love me?"
Newt's eyes grow big, a high flush on his cheeks. He pulls his hand away. "What? Do you mean like other people? Like, other married people? Love you? This is sudden. Um. I-I mean, I find you likeable? What we have works and I don't... Percival, why are you asking me this?" He gets up and paces to the other side of the room. Graves folds his hands together on his lap.
"I saw a couple the other day. Married 59 years. Arranged, like we were. They looked so happy together and I just thought. Well, I thought why couldn't we have that?"
Newt wrings his hands. The way he does when he is nervous. He tilts his face away from Graves, and it curls something painful and unpleasant in him to recognise that as Newt being uncomfortable with his presence in the room. "But what we have is good. What we have is great, Percival. You promised me you wouldn't ask me for something I cannot give. Remember?"
Graves closes his eyes, turning his face away. "I remember." Reining himself in, he stands, abandoning his book. "I'm sorry I asked. Please forgive me and forget I ever brought this up." He leaves the room, not quite running to the privacy of his study.
***
He tries to patch things up in the intervening weeks. Graves leaves baskets of supplies for the creatures at the door of his room. He makes sure that there is also enough food for Newt every morning before he leaves the house. Quite unable to tamp down the bittersweet swell of satisfaction when he sees that the creatures are getting their meals and so is their human.
Graves works it out so that he leaves their house early enough that Newt isn't awake, and then late enough that he is asleep. It goes on to the point that his personal secretary tells him that there is nothing for him to sign or approve or to discuss, and makes him dismiss their entire department early so that they may all enjoy their long weekend ahead. Blinking owlishly, he thanks her, does as she says but stays there in his office until dinner before he makes his way home.
The house lights up when he steps in. Hanging his coat and scarf, he yawns a little, intending to skip dinner all together and to handle a bath after he has had a nap. Graves is two steps up the stairs when the front door burst open with such alarm, that Graves instinctively reaches for his wand.
"Oh, good! You're home." Newt says breathlessly. His blue coat is buttoned up wrong, and his collar is half upturned as if he has swept out the door in a hurry. Graves settles his heart, stowing away his wand before coming down.
"Is everything all right?" Graves ask, eyes running over Newt to assess for any injuries. Curiously, he is wearing his wedding ring, though Graves reasons that it is possible that he wears it out of habit when leaving the house. That calendar entry hasn't changed on his next trip two months from now, and he is sure he has left enough supplies the last time round. "Newt?"
Newt is flushed, panting like he has exerted himself. His eyes are bright, almost feverish. Graves is about to call for a doctor when Newt wraps his hand around his wrist, holding on tight. "I-I've done a bit of thinking. And I think. I mean, I know. I think I know that I don't like what we had."
Graves feels the pain of a lightening bolt spear his chest. He begins to draw away, when Newt tightens his hold.
"Oh, Merlin! I'm not getting this right!" He frowns, the beginnings of an upset turning the corners of his mouth a thin line. Graves moves his wrist, going to hold Newt's hand the way he has been taught to.
"It's okay. It's alright, just breathe Newt. I just need you to breathe." He says, taking and flicking his wand to summon Calming Draught from the kitchen. Newt stops him before he can uncork the vial.
Moving into his space, cradling his face, Newt leans in, slotting their mouths together. Their lips are too dry and the angle is all wrong. They bumped too hard against each other and he is sure that one of them has a split lip. Graves does not push him away but it's a near thing.
"I didn't take you to be cruel, Newt Scamander, but this is heartless of you." He says coldly. Graves turns to run up the stairs, only to be halted by his wrist being gripped hard again.
Newt is tearful in the face of his anger. "Please Percival... Please, just listen. Please." He chokes on his words, tears welling up. "Percival, I'm going about this all wrong." Graves cannot bear to see him cry because of himself. He has a half thought comfort on his tongue when Newt speaks again, the words tumbling forth like a wonderful fount given life. "I gave what you said some thinking. When you asked me if I loved you. I do, Percival, I do. I really do. And I am a fool for thinking that I could not love you too. Because I do, and I am sorry that I made you believe I couldn't. Please Percival, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I love you, I love you and I will work the rest of my life to make you see that I love y-"
Graves stoppers the fount with a kiss. Not that he could live without hearing that, but because his heart is bursting and half mad with joy. He drops the vial of Calming Draught on the rug, pressing their bodies together even as he ravages Newt's mouth. He lets his tongue penetrate him, map him, taste him before they have to break apart for air. "Is that how you kiss?" He hears panted against the corner of his smile.
"Have you never...?"
Newt's blush rises to the tips of his nose, creeping down under his collar. "Not until you."
Graves huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head to steal gentler kisses from his husband. "Then, I will teach you."
Newt ducks his eyes for a moment. When he looks back into Graves' gaze, he asks with a half-lidded whisper, "And what about sex? Would that be on the curricular?"
Something happy and warm curls at the base of his belly. "I will teach that too. If you want."
Newt smiles, soft and happy. "I think we are definitely overdue on that front." He pulls away to shed his coat and hanging it with Graves'. When he returns to his side, Graves takes his hand, kissing his wedding ring. Together they climb the stairs together to Graves' room, extinguishing the lights at the close of the door.
[A/N: The author would like it to be known that she has never seen the movie that the OP was talking about and she hopes that this is okay. *U*]
Fill: Real!Graves/Newt, Do you love me?
"Yes. The President has called for a meeting about the World Cup and I'm supposed to present the proposal for security measures." Graves replies, shrugging on his coat. "Is there something you'd like me to pick up for you?"
Newt nods, pulling out a list from his vest pocket. "If you could pick these up for me, that will be most helpful. One of the Squid has contracted a nasty cold and I have to keep watch." Graves pulls a face that makes Newt laugh, patting him on his arm. "Have a good day at work." He smiles.
"Try to remember to eat at some point today. And keep that damn Niffler of my study, unless you want to spoil your Christmas surprise." Graves replies with the beginnings of his replying smile before he Disapparates into an alleyway near the Woolworth Building.
***
They had met for the first time under a canopy of summer flowers on a sweltering August afternoon. His family had attended in their full finery unsuitable for a wedding this simple, while Newt's had tried their best to remain stoic faced, failing at the sight of him walking down the aisle. Graves had been nervous that last week leading up to the big day; no one had asked him what he wanted for the ceremony or the reception after, his mother and cousins had taken over liaising with Newt's family about it, leaving it till that last bubble of time before inquiring whether he would like a black with yellow stripes tie or a midnight blue bow tie to match his suit.
Newt's hand in his at their first meeting had been shaking, unnaturally chilled. It wasn't till later that he learnt about how Newt had been in his suitcase up to the last minute tending to his creatures before his brother had to tear him out by his collar. Newt wouldn't look him in the eye when they exchanged vows, would not meet his gaze when their hands were sealed in their binding spells. They skip the customary kiss. But when he had finally gotten him alone, right before they had to leave the small room they had found refuge in for an agonising hour for pictures, he had assured his new husband that he is no monster and he won't ask for things Newt cannot provide.
After that, Newt had relaxed a little more by his side, going as far as to smile at him before he went to sleep on their marital bed while Graves took the sofa.
***
"... and here, here, and here." Graves signs each form with a flourish. He dismisses his personal secretary, but not before he tells her that he will be taking his lunch now. Making his quick escape before anyone could wave fresh documents (from hell) in his face, Graves definitely does not run and seek refuge in a little No-Maj cafe two blocks away.
"Coffee, black and a short stack." The waitress, Millie, says with a smile when he takes his usual seat. Graves pays her a smile of his own. He likes this place, likes the way everything from the fixtures to the faces of the patrons sit a little worn and hewn. It feels a lot more real than the varnished aesthetics that the Wizarding versions favour. Graves appreciates the feeling he gets here of how he can be just another regular customer, someone who does not have all those responsibilities he has, someone who has his order before he can even ask for it.
His coffee arrives and he curls his palms around it, savouring the heat. Graves picks his cup up, ready to drink before he sees them.
The husband is leaning heavily on his cane, listing to one side. But the wife is supporting him there, a smile on her face as she guides him into the cafe. Graves sees Millie take them to a seat by the window just in his line of sight. The wife seats her husband first before she takes hers, all the while holding his hand. The husband is jittery, shaking in the way that old people do when they have lost control of their bodies but not of their mind. There is a furrow in his brow that his wife notices, leaning over to kiss it away. And the moment she does that, his entire countenance changes. He smiles, lifting her hand in his to kiss. She laughs, the sound silent in the quiet din of the cafe, but Graves imagines that it must sound beautiful.
"Who are they?" He asks when Millie comes to bring him his short stack. "That couple by the window?"
"Oh, them? Mr and Mrs Carter, they are. Sweet as honey those two. Told me that they've been married 59 years next week and apparently they'd rented out the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria for the celebration! All their kids, their kids and some of their kid's kids are coming from all over for the do. When I asked her how they did it, she told me that the key is to constantly learn something new about your partner. They were an arranged marriage, you see? Didn't meet until the day of their wedding, but he told me that he fell in love the first time he saw her." Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispers, "The Mrs also told me that he was a bit of a Casanova back in the day, and then told me she's inviting all of his former lady friends just to rub it in their faces that she got the man and not them. Personally, I think she's just fibbing about rubbing it in their faces. People like her are too happy to care what others may think about them, and that is what makes it annoying. They do it without thinking." Millie steps away with a shrug.
Graves shakes his head, grinning all the same as he cuts into his food. Millie leaves, but he sneaks quick looks their way as he eats. Watching the way she wipes away the drool on the corner of the husband's mouth, cutting up his food for him, feeding him. Something unsettling creeps into him then, wrapping around his chest like a hollow grip. Graves rubs his thumb over his wedding band, one he has not taken off since the day it was slipped on three years ago, and cannot help but to wonder.
***
Newt, of course, does not notice his strange mood when he returns home. The squid has a cold after all.
He had knocked on the door to the room they had converted for the habitats, presenting the items on Newt's list, be on the receiving end of a wide smile before the door is shut in his face. Swallowing and folding his hands behind him, Graves goes to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
The calendar Newt keeps by the door, at his insistence after he discovered in the early days just how often his new husband would disappear for days and weeks on end to 'rescue and rehabilitate' those 'poor, poor creatures but Graves I could let those poachers get away with those eggs even though I knew it would harm me'. For his own sanity, he had begged. And Newt does a pretty good job of marking down where he is going, and for how long he will be gone. Graves runs his thumb over a marking for a trip two months ago when he had returned with fresh wounds and more Occamy eggs, promptly keeling over the moment he stepped through the front door. Graves had felt a sort of utter helplessness then, something like how he feels now. Except now, he can probably put a name to that emotion. And, as much as the thought alone scares him, how he is hoping that it could happen in his marriage.
It takes a full week for the squid to be well enough, and another two days before Newt notices the strange mood.
"What's gotten into you?" He asks, squinting his eyes. It is a rare Saturday afternoon where both of them are sitting by the fire; Graves with a half-read book on his lap and his eyes on the grey skies outside, while Newt has the Bowtruckle perched on his head and Dougal, the Demiguise, on his lap. He isn't wearing his wedding ring, but he never does inside their home. "You seem... Very far away."
Graves has an apology on his tongue that he bites back, choosing to set the book aside. Taking Newt's free hand in his, he clears his throat. Graves wants to ask him if he had ever wanted more, if he had ever thought they could have more. He wants to ask Newt whether the idea of having a marriage filled with love, romantic love, was possible enough that it outweighed the risk of losing whatever comfortable medium they had landed since that day they exchanged vows that bound them to each other. But what comes out is, "Do you love me?"
Newt's eyes grow big, a high flush on his cheeks. He pulls his hand away. "What? Do you mean like other people? Like, other married people? Love you? This is sudden. Um. I-I mean, I find you likeable? What we have works and I don't... Percival, why are you asking me this?" He gets up and paces to the other side of the room. Graves folds his hands together on his lap.
"I saw a couple the other day. Married 59 years. Arranged, like we were. They looked so happy together and I just thought. Well, I thought why couldn't we have that?"
Newt wrings his hands. The way he does when he is nervous. He tilts his face away from Graves, and it curls something painful and unpleasant in him to recognise that as Newt being uncomfortable with his presence in the room. "But what we have is good. What we have is great, Percival. You promised me you wouldn't ask me for something I cannot give. Remember?"
Graves closes his eyes, turning his face away. "I remember." Reining himself in, he stands, abandoning his book. "I'm sorry I asked. Please forgive me and forget I ever brought this up." He leaves the room, not quite running to the privacy of his study.
***
He tries to patch things up in the intervening weeks. Graves leaves baskets of supplies for the creatures at the door of his room. He makes sure that there is also enough food for Newt every morning before he leaves the house. Quite unable to tamp down the bittersweet swell of satisfaction when he sees that the creatures are getting their meals and so is their human.
Graves works it out so that he leaves their house early enough that Newt isn't awake, and then late enough that he is asleep. It goes on to the point that his personal secretary tells him that there is nothing for him to sign or approve or to discuss, and makes him dismiss their entire department early so that they may all enjoy their long weekend ahead. Blinking owlishly, he thanks her, does as she says but stays there in his office until dinner before he makes his way home.
The house lights up when he steps in. Hanging his coat and scarf, he yawns a little, intending to skip dinner all together and to handle a bath after he has had a nap. Graves is two steps up the stairs when the front door burst open with such alarm, that Graves instinctively reaches for his wand.
"Oh, good! You're home." Newt says breathlessly. His blue coat is buttoned up wrong, and his collar is half upturned as if he has swept out the door in a hurry. Graves settles his heart, stowing away his wand before coming down.
"Is everything all right?" Graves ask, eyes running over Newt to assess for any injuries. Curiously, he is wearing his wedding ring, though Graves reasons that it is possible that he wears it out of habit when leaving the house. That calendar entry hasn't changed on his next trip two months from now, and he is sure he has left enough supplies the last time round. "Newt?"
Newt is flushed, panting like he has exerted himself. His eyes are bright, almost feverish. Graves is about to call for a doctor when Newt wraps his hand around his wrist, holding on tight. "I-I've done a bit of thinking. And I think. I mean, I know. I think I know that I don't like what we had."
Graves feels the pain of a lightening bolt spear his chest. He begins to draw away, when Newt tightens his hold.
"Oh, Merlin! I'm not getting this right!" He frowns, the beginnings of an upset turning the corners of his mouth a thin line. Graves moves his wrist, going to hold Newt's hand the way he has been taught to.
"It's okay. It's alright, just breathe Newt. I just need you to breathe." He says, taking and flicking his wand to summon Calming Draught from the kitchen. Newt stops him before he can uncork the vial.
Moving into his space, cradling his face, Newt leans in, slotting their mouths together. Their lips are too dry and the angle is all wrong. They bumped too hard against each other and he is sure that one of them has a split lip. Graves does not push him away but it's a near thing.
"I didn't take you to be cruel, Newt Scamander, but this is heartless of you." He says coldly. Graves turns to run up the stairs, only to be halted by his wrist being gripped hard again.
Newt is tearful in the face of his anger. "Please Percival... Please, just listen. Please." He chokes on his words, tears welling up. "Percival, I'm going about this all wrong." Graves cannot bear to see him cry because of himself. He has a half thought comfort on his tongue when Newt speaks again, the words tumbling forth like a wonderful fount given life. "I gave what you said some thinking. When you asked me if I loved you. I do, Percival, I do. I really do. And I am a fool for thinking that I could not love you too. Because I do, and I am sorry that I made you believe I couldn't. Please Percival, I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. I love you, I love you and I will work the rest of my life to make you see that I love y-"
Graves stoppers the fount with a kiss. Not that he could live without hearing that, but because his heart is bursting and half mad with joy. He drops the vial of Calming Draught on the rug, pressing their bodies together even as he ravages Newt's mouth. He lets his tongue penetrate him, map him, taste him before they have to break apart for air. "Is that how you kiss?" He hears panted against the corner of his smile.
"Have you never...?"
Newt's blush rises to the tips of his nose, creeping down under his collar. "Not until you."
Graves huffs a quiet laugh, tilting his head to steal gentler kisses from his husband. "Then, I will teach you."
Newt ducks his eyes for a moment. When he looks back into Graves' gaze, he asks with a half-lidded whisper, "And what about sex? Would that be on the curricular?"
Something happy and warm curls at the base of his belly. "I will teach that too. If you want."
Newt smiles, soft and happy. "I think we are definitely overdue on that front." He pulls away to shed his coat and hanging it with Graves'. When he returns to his side, Graves takes his hand, kissing his wedding ring. Together they climb the stairs together to Graves' room, extinguishing the lights at the close of the door.
[A/N: The author would like it to be known that she has never seen the movie that the OP was talking about and she hopes that this is okay. *U*]