A/N: With Author!non and OP's blessing here's the follow-up! I have come back form work and am very tired, so I apologize for any blatant, awful errors. While direct belligerence was, perhaps, the easiest way for Percival to engage in small rebellion against Grindelwald, it was swiftly losing whatever small effect it had initially had. He was growing (rather understandably) predictable, and actions that Grindelwald had once treated with the slightest twitches to indicate his annoyance were now only met with an equanimity that Percival frankly found… disturbing. (Not that there was much about Grindelwald that he did not find disturbing). Which meant that it was time to change strategies.
He traced over the links of bespelled collar, and the easy way the cable chain settled into the hollow of his throat, mirroring the matching bracelet-cuffs that slid around his wrists (and his ankles, for that matter, though those were usually hidden by the hem of his trousers). Objectively, the jewelry pieces were rather flattering for a male, and Percival had to wonder what had possessed Grindelwald to enchant and use these particular pieces, or—perhaps more curiously—who had been their original intended wearer— the poor, wretched soul. (The irony of him pitying another trapped in the tender mercies of Grindelwald's bizarre fascination did not escape him.) Regardless, they were flattering, and it was clear enough by now that at least a third of Grindelwald's general entertainment was derived from lording his status and power over others.
He debated a few more moments, before resolutely unbuttoning the first two button of his shirt, and neatly rolled his sleeves just below his elbow, with a hint of the cuff peeking out from the roll. Goldstein had mentioned it was a flattering look, once, as they were preparing for an undercover operation. Even more importantly, it served to highlight the presence of the cuffs and collar. Percival glanced at the wall clock, and hastily folded and tucked a spare pair of handkerchiefs into his trouser-pocket. Grindelwald would be returning from the office, soon, and he had a few more things to prepare before the dark wizard made it back to his apartment. And while he might be attempting a new approach this evening, like hell was he going to clean up any spills with his tongue.
Percival went ahead and checked on the brine for the pork tenderloin, prepped the filling, and went back to finishing up the generic straightening up to do, as well as setting the library to rights, especially after his impromptu research topics earlierHe returned to the kitchen and eyed the icebox, which he knew still held a couple bottles of a very excellent dry Vermouth. As reluctant as he was to part with a bottle, it would definitely make for an excellent start for an alternative strategy. At the last moment, he pulled out a bottle and set it in a cooler, popping it open and pouring a small glass, half-full, and set the whole thing just out of sight on the kitchen counter, before moving swiftly to the door to let Grindelwald in.
Today, he didn't even bother meeting Grindelwald's gaze as he helped the wizard out of the coat, working with a simple efficiency that Percival was sure Grindelwald liked to imagine he had instilled. As Grindelwald mouthed off the usual pleasantries–dinner at 8, bring drinks to the library, oh this sock needed to be darned–Percival went ahead and dusted off the coat, hanging it neatly, so that when Grindelwald got around to asking how his day was (likely for the joy of talking at something that physically could not speak back at him), Percival deliberately, casually shrugged, as if to reply 'it was uneventful'. Grindelwald actually came to a full stop for a moment, almost staring, and Percival had to curl his toes tightly to keep from smirking, instead moving on as though nothing had changed, and his response had been the typical, blankly aggressive stare. Grindelwald didn't even bother invading his personal space, though Percival felt fairly sure he could sense the other wizard's eyes settling on the gold chain around his exposed throat, and the way it glimmered in the soft lamplight, before swiftly heading into the library.
Percival ducked quickly into the kitchen to grab the glass and bottle of Vermouth and ended up entering the library almost just as Grindelwald was settling down into the usual armchair. Grindelwald glanced at the vintage on the bottle, froze, took the time to look again, reading carefully, and then stared at the glass Percival sat down, as if it might bite him. Percival didn't think he'd ever seen the wizard so unsettled, and the sight warmed him from the pit of his stomach and outward. Grindelwald recovered quickly, however, and then waved an imperious hand at both the glass and Percival, as if attempting to tell the man to try it, without actually voicing the thought that Percival might have found a way to achieve the upper hand. Percival topped the glass, before taking a long, deliberate sip and setting the glass down and away, before grabbing a second glass at random and pouring out the Vermouth again, taking the soiled glass with him silently to the kitchen to place in the sink before Grindelwald could think to have him stay around… and also to give the wizard time to magically check the contents of it all himself, without Percival around to see.
Percival let the corner of his lips tick up as he heard the quiet flick of a wand sliding from Grindelwald's sleeve.
He returned, and stood silently near the side of the armchair, going for unobtrusive but available if needed. Perhaps not as fun as his normal level of direct belligerence, but the continuous slight hints of Grindelwald's surprise as Percival was genuinely accommodating made the change worthwhile. Grindelwald clearly wasn't sure whether or not it was to be trusted, and that was good enough. When the dark wizard 'carelessly' knocked over his glass, Percival knelt and pulled out one of his spare handkerchiefs to sop up the drink, and didn't bother to hide the brief look of distaste at the move. When Grindelwald gently gripped his chin to turn it to face him (an unfortunately all-too-common breech of his personal space) Percival tensed, not even trying to relax himself. Those more 'typical' reactions seemed to reassure Grindelwald that things hadn't gotten too out of hand, and Percival masked his relief.
Better to let Grindelwald slip back into the security of his oppressively massive superiority complex.
The dark wizard was now contented and taking the time to actually enjoy the bottle Vermouth and let Percival set about finishing preparations for dinner in peace.
When Percival walked in with the plate of stuffed pork tenderloin before Grindelwald, the wizard's eyebrows rose, slightly, before he waved his wand—apparently bored of the continued silence. Percival inhaled a short breath, and watched as Grindelwald's shoulders settled into the typical annoyance of what he was quite certain Percival would say.
Instead, Percival set the plate down easily in front of Grindelwald, and commented, quietly. "You know, I have wondered why a wizard such as you, so secure in wizarding superiority, enjoys watching things done the Muggle way–" Muggle, not No-Maj, Europeans, "–instead of with magic. Surely you don't think it is better done without magic?" Grindelwald froze so still, Percival couldn't have done more to stop the wizard if he'd cast Stupefy. It only took a few seconds for Grindelwald to recover, but those seconds were still a memory Percival was going to cherish, and the greatest victory he'd had yet.
"My dear Graves, it is less the actions themselves, and more spectacle of watching you to do them," Grindelwald drawled as he finally recovered his equanimity. Percival only dipped his head, in acknowledgement. It was better to cede that as a victory than it was attempt to make the point that he honestly had done many of the tasks the 'No-Maj way' before Grindelwald had seemed so intent on it. Better it seem a hardship than encourage the man to devise new ones.
"You've been in such an amicable mood today, will you be sitting down and telling me of your day without the usual 'encouragement', then?" Grindelwald asked as he began to cut into his tenderloin, mostly facetious.
So, Percival sat down, even as he made a slight face of disgust, and did exactly that.
"I finished mending the two dress shirts, rethreaded the buttons on the greatcoat. Wound the clocks, reorganized the library, sat down and read for a few hours," and here Percival hesitates, the way he would have if he were fighting the awful, dragging pull of attempting to resist Imperio, "–attempted to Floo the office and found that I could not–" because the secretary was out to brunch, and the office wards weren't sure what to do with two Percival Graves, not because the Floo failed to work at all. He would definitely have to attempt contacting Goldstein at home, though his timing would have to be perfect if he were to avoid any potential No-Maj discovery. "tucked the hem of a pair of trousers, started the brine for the tenderloin, and then spent an inordinate amount of time deciding where I would display your shrunken head. I then prepared for your return from work, checked the brine, and debated about whether or not I was going to bring out the Vermouth, decided yes, and then greeted you at the door." Percival swallowed, staring down at the knots in the wood of his dining table, mind suddenly racing at the possibilities of omission open to him if he outwardly cooperated more openly. It would be a very, very dangerous path to walk but maybe–
He was jolted out of such thoughts by Grindelwald's low chuckle. Percival stood abruptly, and goes to clear away Grindelwald's empty plate when the man grasped his wrist and held him still. Grindelwald dragged his thumb over the wrist-cuff briefly—intimately–before rotating his grip to rest two fingers over the pulse-point, feeling the way Percival could hear the uptake of his heart thundering in his ears.
"I much prefer you like this, " Grindelwald said, masking the way that–for a moment–his eyes flickered, unsettled, before he drew Percival's wrist in to inhale against the pulse point, as though breathing in the scent of him. Percival yanked his wrist away, and Grindelwald let go. Grindelwald then stood and grasped Percival's chin, tilting his face upwards.
Looking up into the dark wizard's eyes, there was some strange, unidentifiable emotion that Percival had not seen before, and as Grindelwald's hand slid down his neck to trace along the collar, Percival was reminded, again, of the threats made against those that he cares for and how very tenuous his position was. And, how little he knew of Grindelwald's motives. For a moment, he could have almost sworn the dark wizard was upset at the fear Percival knew he was not hiding well, stemming from the abrupt change of atmosphere and responses. He didsn't know this Grindelwald, didn't know what he wanted, didn't know why his eyes lingered so long at the way the chain dipped into the hollow of this throat, at the flex of his muscles as his frame tightened as he flinched away. (Or perhaps Percival didn't want to think about what it could have meant, sweet Merlin, he did not want to contemplate such possibilities.) But that fey expression passed, and the return of Grindelwald's casual cruelty and pleasure in fear was almost a relief.
"Thank you, Graves, for your exemplary behavior this evening and goodnight. I'll be retiring to the library for a short while longer, and I expect you to wake me at the usual hour."
As Graves returned to the kitchen, he could feel Grindelwald's eyes following him with a new sort of weight, a new fascination.
Percival wasn't sure if he won this round or not. Something had most definitely changed, between them but perhaps that was not a good thing.
[Fill] Alt. Continuation: An Attempt at Turning Tables
While direct belligerence was, perhaps, the easiest way for Percival to engage in small rebellion against Grindelwald, it was swiftly losing whatever small effect it had initially had. He was growing (rather understandably) predictable, and actions that Grindelwald had once treated with the slightest twitches to indicate his annoyance were now only met with an equanimity that Percival frankly found… disturbing. (Not that there was much about Grindelwald that he did not find disturbing). Which meant that it was time to change strategies.
He traced over the links of bespelled collar, and the easy way the cable chain settled into the hollow of his throat, mirroring the matching bracelet-cuffs that slid around his wrists (and his ankles, for that matter, though those were usually hidden by the hem of his trousers). Objectively, the jewelry pieces were rather flattering for a male, and Percival had to wonder what had possessed Grindelwald to enchant and use these particular pieces, or—perhaps more curiously—who had been their original intended wearer— the poor, wretched soul. (The irony of him pitying another trapped in the tender mercies of Grindelwald's bizarre fascination did not escape him.) Regardless, they were flattering, and it was clear enough by now that at least a third of Grindelwald's general entertainment was derived from lording his status and power over others.
He debated a few more moments, before resolutely unbuttoning the first two button of his shirt, and neatly rolled his sleeves just below his elbow, with a hint of the cuff peeking out from the roll. Goldstein had mentioned it was a flattering look, once, as they were preparing for an undercover operation. Even more importantly, it served to highlight the presence of the cuffs and collar. Percival glanced at the wall clock, and hastily folded and tucked a spare pair of handkerchiefs into his trouser-pocket. Grindelwald would be returning from the office, soon, and he had a few more things to prepare before the dark wizard made it back to his apartment. And while he might be attempting a new approach this evening, like hell was he going to clean up any spills with his tongue.
Percival went ahead and checked on the brine for the pork tenderloin, prepped the filling, and went back to finishing up the generic straightening up to do, as well as setting the library to rights, especially after his impromptu research topics earlierHe returned to the kitchen and eyed the icebox, which he knew still held a couple bottles of a very excellent dry Vermouth. As reluctant as he was to part with a bottle, it would definitely make for an excellent start for an alternative strategy. At the last moment, he pulled out a bottle and set it in a cooler, popping it open and pouring a small glass, half-full, and set the whole thing just out of sight on the kitchen counter, before moving swiftly to the door to let Grindelwald in.
Today, he didn't even bother meeting Grindelwald's gaze as he helped the wizard out of the coat, working with a simple efficiency that Percival was sure Grindelwald liked to imagine he had instilled. As Grindelwald mouthed off the usual pleasantries–dinner at 8, bring drinks to the library, oh this sock needed to be darned–Percival went ahead and dusted off the coat, hanging it neatly, so that when Grindelwald got around to asking how his day was (likely for the joy of talking at something that physically could not speak back at him), Percival deliberately, casually shrugged, as if to reply 'it was uneventful'. Grindelwald actually came to a full stop for a moment, almost staring, and Percival had to curl his toes tightly to keep from smirking, instead moving on as though nothing had changed, and his response had been the typical, blankly aggressive stare. Grindelwald didn't even bother invading his personal space, though Percival felt fairly sure he could sense the other wizard's eyes settling on the gold chain around his exposed throat, and the way it glimmered in the soft lamplight, before swiftly heading into the library.
Percival ducked quickly into the kitchen to grab the glass and bottle of Vermouth and ended up entering the library almost just as Grindelwald was settling down into the usual armchair. Grindelwald glanced at the vintage on the bottle, froze, took the time to look again, reading carefully, and then stared at the glass Percival sat down, as if it might bite him. Percival didn't think he'd ever seen the wizard so unsettled, and the sight warmed him from the pit of his stomach and outward. Grindelwald recovered quickly, however, and then waved an imperious hand at both the glass and Percival, as if attempting to tell the man to try it, without actually voicing the thought that Percival might have found a way to achieve the upper hand. Percival topped the glass, before taking a long, deliberate sip and setting the glass down and away, before grabbing a second glass at random and pouring out the Vermouth again, taking the soiled glass with him silently to the kitchen to place in the sink before Grindelwald could think to have him stay around… and also to give the wizard time to magically check the contents of it all himself, without Percival around to see.
Percival let the corner of his lips tick up as he heard the quiet flick of a wand sliding from Grindelwald's sleeve.
He returned, and stood silently near the side of the armchair, going for unobtrusive but available if needed. Perhaps not as fun as his normal level of direct belligerence, but the continuous slight hints of Grindelwald's surprise as Percival was genuinely accommodating made the change worthwhile. Grindelwald clearly wasn't sure whether or not it was to be trusted, and that was good enough. When the dark wizard 'carelessly' knocked over his glass, Percival knelt and pulled out one of his spare handkerchiefs to sop up the drink, and didn't bother to hide the brief look of distaste at the move. When Grindelwald gently gripped his chin to turn it to face him (an unfortunately all-too-common breech of his personal space) Percival tensed, not even trying to relax himself. Those more 'typical' reactions seemed to reassure Grindelwald that things hadn't gotten too out of hand, and Percival masked his relief.
Better to let Grindelwald slip back into the security of his oppressively massive superiority complex.
The dark wizard was now contented and taking the time to actually enjoy the bottle Vermouth and let Percival set about finishing preparations for dinner in peace.
When Percival walked in with the plate of stuffed pork tenderloin before Grindelwald, the wizard's eyebrows rose, slightly, before he waved his wand—apparently bored of the continued silence. Percival inhaled a short breath, and watched as Grindelwald's shoulders settled into the typical annoyance of what he was quite certain Percival would say.
Instead, Percival set the plate down easily in front of Grindelwald, and commented, quietly. "You know, I have wondered why a wizard such as you, so secure in wizarding superiority, enjoys watching things done the Muggle way–" Muggle, not No-Maj, Europeans, "–instead of with magic. Surely you don't think it is better done without magic?" Grindelwald froze so still, Percival couldn't have done more to stop the wizard if he'd cast Stupefy. It only took a few seconds for Grindelwald to recover, but those seconds were still a memory Percival was going to cherish, and the greatest victory he'd had yet.
"My dear Graves, it is less the actions themselves, and more spectacle of watching you to do them," Grindelwald drawled as he finally recovered his equanimity. Percival only dipped his head, in acknowledgement. It was better to cede that as a victory than it was attempt to make the point that he honestly had done many of the tasks the 'No-Maj way' before Grindelwald had seemed so intent on it. Better it seem a hardship than encourage the man to devise new ones.
"You've been in such an amicable mood today, will you be sitting down and telling me of your day without the usual 'encouragement', then?" Grindelwald asked as he began to cut into his tenderloin, mostly facetious.
So, Percival sat down, even as he made a slight face of disgust, and did exactly that.
"I finished mending the two dress shirts, rethreaded the buttons on the greatcoat. Wound the clocks, reorganized the library, sat down and read for a few hours," and here Percival hesitates, the way he would have if he were fighting the awful, dragging pull of attempting to resist Imperio, "–attempted to Floo the office and found that I could not–" because the secretary was out to brunch, and the office wards weren't sure what to do with two Percival Graves, not because the Floo failed to work at all. He would definitely have to attempt contacting Goldstein at home, though his timing would have to be perfect if he were to avoid any potential No-Maj discovery. "tucked the hem of a pair of trousers, started the brine for the tenderloin, and then spent an inordinate amount of time deciding where I would display your shrunken head. I then prepared for your return from work, checked the brine, and debated about whether or not I was going to bring out the Vermouth, decided yes, and then greeted you at the door." Percival swallowed, staring down at the knots in the wood of his dining table, mind suddenly racing at the possibilities of omission open to him if he outwardly cooperated more openly. It would be a very, very dangerous path to walk but maybe–
He was jolted out of such thoughts by Grindelwald's low chuckle. Percival stood abruptly, and goes to clear away Grindelwald's empty plate when the man grasped his wrist and held him still. Grindelwald dragged his thumb over the wrist-cuff briefly—intimately–before rotating his grip to rest two fingers over the pulse-point, feeling the way Percival could hear the uptake of his heart thundering in his ears.
"I much prefer you like this, " Grindelwald said, masking the way that–for a moment–his eyes flickered, unsettled, before he drew Percival's wrist in to inhale against the pulse point, as though breathing in the scent of him. Percival yanked his wrist away, and Grindelwald let go. Grindelwald then stood and grasped Percival's chin, tilting his face upwards.
Looking up into the dark wizard's eyes, there was some strange, unidentifiable emotion that Percival had not seen before, and as Grindelwald's hand slid down his neck to trace along the collar, Percival was reminded, again, of the threats made against those that he cares for and how very tenuous his position was. And, how little he knew of Grindelwald's motives. For a moment, he could have almost sworn the dark wizard was upset at the fear Percival knew he was not hiding well, stemming from the abrupt change of atmosphere and responses. He didsn't know this Grindelwald, didn't know what he wanted, didn't know why his eyes lingered so long at the way the chain dipped into the hollow of this throat, at the flex of his muscles as his frame tightened as he flinched away. (Or perhaps Percival didn't want to think about what it could have meant, sweet Merlin, he did not want to contemplate such possibilities.) But that fey expression passed, and the return of Grindelwald's casual cruelty and pleasure in fear was almost a relief.
"Thank you, Graves, for your exemplary behavior this evening and goodnight. I'll be retiring to the library for a short while longer, and I expect you to wake me at the usual hour."
As Graves returned to the kitchen, he could feel Grindelwald's eyes following him with a new sort of weight, a new fascination.
Percival wasn't sure if he won this round or not. Something had most definitely changed, between them but perhaps that was not a good thing.