Graves had barely been gone ten minutes before Newt started getting twitchy. He thought about popping his head round the door to see if Tina was still around but after a long moment of chewing on his lip, he decided it was perhaps not the best of ideas. His soul mate (and that sounded better every time he thought it) had asked him to stay put after all. He chafed a little at the restriction, but it was hardly as though Graves hadn’t had ample reason to caution him. Newt was very disappointed in Daisy himself.
Newt got up to inspect the bookshelves, quite unable to bear sitting down any longer. They all looked quite stern, well-bound copies of imposing treatise, and he hesitated for a moment. Surely that wasn’t all Graves read. He eyed a copy of ‘An Authoritative Guide to Relations with Lesser Species, and Obligations of the American Wizard’ dubiously. That looked distinctly like something Edgar MacMillan would haul around self-importantly, waiting for someone to look his way so he could loftily flick through a page or two.
‘Noblesse Oblige and No-Majes’ another proclaimed. ‘An Extermination Guide to Nuisance Beasts and Their Uses in Common Potions,’ had him flinching. Morbid curiosity had him pull the book off the shelf, ready to read through it and unleash the no-doubt numerous reasons why it was a terrible thing to own on Graves when he returned. He couldn’t believe that his own soul mate might read a thing like that!
He sprawled down on the floor, impatiently flicking it open – and then paused. The interior was clearly well-loved, the pages worn at the edges and yellowed from fingerprints. Far more interesting than that, though, was the title page inside: ‘The Wizards of the West: Wycombe meets the Wandslingers'
“Oh, you absolute sneak," Newt said with utter delight and settled down to read.
***
"Is there a reason you aren't using that very serviceable chair sat not three feet away from you, my own?" Graves asked, one dark eyebrow raised very expressively. Newt envied his ability. It was one of those things he'd never quite mastered.
He considered the question very carefully, leaving one finger in the book to mark his place. "I've never felt that books ought to be read in a chair," he said after a pensive moment. "It imposes rather too much rigidity on what should be a freedom."
"And you feel that sprawling over the floor solves this?" Graves said, unimpressed.
"Well, of course," Newt said. "One could hardly read about the exploits of Wycombe and his dashing temporary partner Clyde while sat down after all." He directed a mischievous smile up at his soulmate. It faltered when there was no recognition in the look Graves directed back at him. "Because Wycombe says that 'sitting at a desk leads only to the grave' to the Sheriff in chapter four. It's before the apparition chase," he explained awkwardly. Graves' expression didn't change and Newt cleared his throat, trying to ignore the blush creeping up hid neck.
"Do you - do you have any news on my creatures?" He asked. "And Miss. Goldstein of course."
Graves nodded, bringing out a familiar case. Newt lunged for it, then drew up, fluttering his hands at the look of a very immovable lock clamped over the top of it.
“President Picquery insisted,” Graves said, tone dry.
“Ah,” Newt said. “Ah, I see.” He couldn’t stop the disappointed pull of his lips. “I am very grateful of course,” he hurried to add, not wanting his soul mate to think him ungracious.
“You may be less so in a moment, my own,” Graves said. “This lock is to stay on unless it is removed in the presence of adequate supervision. You are not to have the key to it.”
Newt felt sick. “But – I need to feed them,” he protested weakly. “And the occamies, they get lonely without me, and Pickett gets bullied by the other bowtruckles.” He wrung his hands and tried to think of a way around this dictate. Daisy would have to test the lock of course. She had a far better mind for those kind of things than him.
Adequate supervision though. Newt frowned a little, and then looked up at Graves hopefully. “Are you adequate supervision?” he demanded and found his answer in the tiniest curl of his soulmate’s lips.
“Then,” Newt gestured expressively at his case and Graves rolled his eyes.
“Not here, my own,” he said. “Not after today’s events. We’ll wait until we get home first.”
Newt let his shoulders slump in acceptance, curling his magic into Graves’ own for a moment of comfort that was granted, along with a softening of Graves’ eyes.
“Then – home?” he said hopefully, followed up by a shy, “I’d like to see your home anyway.” He would very much like to see where his soulmate lived. He reached out for Graves’ arm, curling a hand around his wrist very briefly. The jolt of warmth that ran through him had him smiling in contented pleasure.
Graves was watching him intently, barely breathing. There was an intensity to his gaze that sent prickles down Newt’s spine and had him swaying towards Graves briefly, his eyes flickering down to lips. His own desire took him by surprise, but why should it? This was his soulmate, after all.
Graves cleared his throat with some difficulty. “Home,” he agreed, picking up Newt’s case again. He reached out to wrap a hand around the back of Newt’s neck and then with the barest of pressures, the two apparated out of MACUSA.
FILL: Real!Graves/Newt/GrindelGraves - Accidental soulmates - 3/?
Newt got up to inspect the bookshelves, quite unable to bear sitting down any longer. They all looked quite stern, well-bound copies of imposing treatise, and he hesitated for a moment. Surely that wasn’t all Graves read. He eyed a copy of ‘An Authoritative Guide to Relations with Lesser Species, and Obligations of the American Wizard’ dubiously. That looked distinctly like something Edgar MacMillan would haul around self-importantly, waiting for someone to look his way so he could loftily flick through a page or two.
‘Noblesse Oblige and No-Majes’ another proclaimed. ‘An Extermination Guide to Nuisance Beasts and Their Uses in Common Potions,’ had him flinching. Morbid curiosity had him pull the book off the shelf, ready to read through it and unleash the no-doubt numerous reasons why it was a terrible thing to own on Graves when he returned. He couldn’t believe that his own soul mate might read a thing like that!
He sprawled down on the floor, impatiently flicking it open – and then paused. The interior was clearly well-loved, the pages worn at the edges and yellowed from fingerprints. Far more interesting than that, though, was the title page inside: ‘The Wizards of the West: Wycombe meets the Wandslingers'
“Oh, you absolute sneak," Newt said with utter delight and settled down to read.
***
"Is there a reason you aren't using that very serviceable chair sat not three feet away from you, my own?" Graves asked, one dark eyebrow raised very expressively. Newt envied his ability. It was one of those things he'd never quite mastered.
He considered the question very carefully, leaving one finger in the book to mark his place. "I've never felt that books ought to be read in a chair," he said after a pensive moment. "It imposes rather too much rigidity on what should be a freedom."
"And you feel that sprawling over the floor solves this?" Graves said, unimpressed.
"Well, of course," Newt said. "One could hardly read about the exploits of Wycombe and his dashing temporary partner Clyde while sat down after all." He directed a mischievous smile up at his soulmate. It faltered when there was no recognition in the look Graves directed back at him. "Because Wycombe says that 'sitting at a desk leads only to the grave' to the Sheriff in chapter four. It's before the apparition chase," he explained awkwardly. Graves' expression didn't change and Newt cleared his throat, trying to ignore the blush creeping up hid neck.
"Do you - do you have any news on my creatures?" He asked. "And Miss. Goldstein of course."
Graves nodded, bringing out a familiar case. Newt lunged for it, then drew up, fluttering his hands at the look of a very immovable lock clamped over the top of it.
“President Picquery insisted,” Graves said, tone dry.
“Ah,” Newt said. “Ah, I see.” He couldn’t stop the disappointed pull of his lips. “I am very grateful of course,” he hurried to add, not wanting his soul mate to think him ungracious.
“You may be less so in a moment, my own,” Graves said. “This lock is to stay on unless it is removed in the presence of adequate supervision. You are not to have the key to it.”
Newt felt sick. “But – I need to feed them,” he protested weakly. “And the occamies, they get lonely without me, and Pickett gets bullied by the other bowtruckles.” He wrung his hands and tried to think of a way around this dictate. Daisy would have to test the lock of course. She had a far better mind for those kind of things than him.
Adequate supervision though. Newt frowned a little, and then looked up at Graves hopefully. “Are you adequate supervision?” he demanded and found his answer in the tiniest curl of his soulmate’s lips.
“Then,” Newt gestured expressively at his case and Graves rolled his eyes.
“Not here, my own,” he said. “Not after today’s events. We’ll wait until we get home first.”
Newt let his shoulders slump in acceptance, curling his magic into Graves’ own for a moment of comfort that was granted, along with a softening of Graves’ eyes.
“Then – home?” he said hopefully, followed up by a shy, “I’d like to see your home anyway.” He would very much like to see where his soulmate lived. He reached out for Graves’ arm, curling a hand around his wrist very briefly. The jolt of warmth that ran through him had him smiling in contented pleasure.
Graves was watching him intently, barely breathing. There was an intensity to his gaze that sent prickles down Newt’s spine and had him swaying towards Graves briefly, his eyes flickering down to lips. His own desire took him by surprise, but why should it? This was his soulmate, after all.
Graves cleared his throat with some difficulty. “Home,” he agreed, picking up Newt’s case again. He reached out to wrap a hand around the back of Newt’s neck and then with the barest of pressures, the two apparated out of MACUSA.