Chapter Text
The poachers had been apprehended and the creatures safely herded into Newt's case, so it was time to relax. Trying to be patient and more approachable, he had taken Newt to a local speakeasy - he didn't feel overly comfortable drinking somewhere public, but it seemed to be the right thing for Newt's sake. And he couldn't ignore that Newt seemed most uncomfortable when they were alone together, so going somewhere with other people around seemed only fair. He didn't want the other aurors he worked with to get the wrong idea about why he was inviting an attractive young consultant out for a drink, so a No-Maj speakeasy it was. He was talking to Newt about what had been happening recently in MACUSA since his return, and the young man seemed completely distracted.
Graves knew that Newt never found it easy to meet his eyes, but today he seemed more distracted than ever, squirming a little from where he was sat, his eyes seeming to dart everywhere other than Grave's face.
"Are you alright?" He asked the magizoologist, trying to ignore the way that a faint blush had crept up on his cheeks, the way he was nervously chewing a lip. He wasn't going to jump to conclusions, assume that he understood what was going on. With Newt that could often horribly backfire. Newt had said before that for one of his creatures, he had to not be predictable. But Newt seemed to always do that.
Newt nodded rapidly, his hair falling forwards over his face, and he brushed it back quickly.
"Yes Director Graves..." Newt's tongue flicked out and wetted his bottom lip, and Graves raised an eyebrow, trying to decide if the action was intentionally flirtatious or if Newt was just clueless about the impact he had on the other man.
"We've been through this. My name is Percival. You did really well today you know?"
"Thank you Percival. I do try, and I am glad all the fwoopers are safe. I will take care of them." Newt murmured quickly, and his gaze appeared to have settled over Graves' left shoulder. His eyes looked intense, and it wasn't Newt's normal level of distraction - whatever was happening over there, it had distracted him completely.
Newt jumped to his feet and vaulted the table as Graves turned around and caught sight of a black shape diving beneath a table.
"No you don't." Newt called out, racing through the room, seeming not to realise the chaos he was causing as he chased after whatever it was that had got out of his pocket this time.
Graves paused for a second, before deciding that Newt probably needed support. Even if he was entertaining when he couldn't handle things, Graves was aware that that wasn't what he should do - he was a representative of MACUSA, he couldn't have random magical creatures running loose in a bar. He didn’t want Newt to get into trouble either.
He dived after Newt, just as the other man slid beneath a table, and returned holding what could best be described as an oversized mole in his hands. It looked rather smug, until Newt held it upside down and began to tickle it. An avalanche of jewellery and coins slipped from it as it squeaked in distress.
This must be the infamous Niffler, the one that had caused chaos in a bank vault during Newt's last visit.
"Put it away before it escapes again and I'll let this slide." He informed him, raising his wand and getting ready to obliviate any No-Majs who had seen what had happened. Newt thanked him and scurried away.