This wasn't meant to have a second chapter but I wanted to write a date scene and I thought it would follow on fairly nicely from the previous chapter.
Percival has run into burning buildings, been in situations where the chance of survival was slim to none, even faced the formidable Grindelwald himself and yet he can't quite remember feeling as nervous as he does right then, wearing his finest suit and sat at a table in a charming Italian restaurant waiting for his date (who also might happen to be his soulmate).
As Percival works longer hours than Newt he had suggested they meet at the restaurant rather than Percival hurry to pick him up. However, he's quickly regretting this decision as it's nearing 7.50 and they had agreed on 7.30. To make matters worse, the waitress keeps giving him sympathetic glances as if she has a reason to pity him which she certainly does not because everything is fine. Newt wouldn't have got cold-feet or changed his mind. Surely not.
It gets to 8 and Percival has ordered a fire whisky to go with the bottle of wine sat on the table, hoping to soothe his frayed nerves. It also helps stall for time; the waitress is slowly getting past the point of sympathetic. When Percival is close to calling it quits and leaving, either to head over to Newt's or return home to drown his sorrows properly, said man comes stumbling into the restaurant, nearly falling over his feet in his haste. He practically skids to the table and Percival's first thought is that he's a mess, the second that at least Newt had always intended to come.
Beneath Newt's trademark blue coat is a white button up covered with an intricately designed burgundy waist coat and trousers that certainly fit in all the correct places. Of course, the dried, half-brushed off mud and mussed up golden curls ruin the image slightly but Percival is too relieved to be bothered.
"T-terribly sorry I'm late. There was an incident with the jarvey's and salamanders that I had to sort out. They were frightening the bowtruckles. I, I really am sorry."
Percival isn't surprised it has something to do with his beasts and finds he isn't even slightly annoyed. Newt in this state is rather an endearing picture.
"That's alright," he says honestly. "Though, I think you missed a spot."
Percival brings out his wand and mutters a scourgify that has the grime gone in an instant. The other customers, who had all been staring unashamedly since Newt's dramatic entrance, begin to return to their meals. Once Newt has sat down, a shy smile on his face, the waitress glides over, a quill and small roll of parchment floating beside her.
"Can I get you gents anything?" She asks with thinly veiled amusement.
"I already got us wine," Percival says, gesturing to the opened bottle on the table. "Unless you'd rather have something else?"
"P-perhaps some water as well?" Newt asks and the waitress nods, going off to fetch a jug and glasses. Percival nudges the menu closer towards Newt.
"I've heard the lasagna here is to die for," he recommends and his lips twitch in amusement when Newt's face disappears behind the large menu as he studies the food intently.
"Here you go. Do you fella's know what you want to eat?" Before Percival can speak, an odd expression momentarily forms on the waitress's face. She shakes her head, red-lipped grin returning and he decides not to question it. This is not a night for work.
"Lasagna please," he answers and his heart, the ridiculous thing it is, flutters when Newt asks for the same. With one last look behind her, at which Percival's hackles rise slightly as she's clearly looking at Newt, the waitress disappears and Percival turns his attention back to the man. He takes a second to appreciate how handsome Newt looks bathed in the candlelight of the restaurant, the warm light making his face glow. It's nice, finally allowing himself to have these thoughts.
"So, apart from the earlier mishap, did you have a good day?" Percival asks and to his delight, Newt comes to life, his expression and movements much more animated as he tells Percival all about the birth of a new crup named Winnie (which perhaps goes into more detail than Percival would have liked before dinner) and explains more about the fight which had caused him to be late. Near the end of his story, the climax of the spectacular battle, Newt abruptly snaps his mouth shut and his cheeks flame.
"Sorry. I-I've been talking a bit too long. I've been told it can be annoying," he apologizes and Percival instantly wants to hunt those down who made Newt ashamed to share his adoration of his beasts. While Percival may not share the same interest in them, just watching Newt speak about something he so clearly loves is captivating to him.
"No, it's absolutely fine," he responds vehemently. "Honestly, it's fascinating. You have no idea the number of dates I've been on that have just had me do all the talking."
Though his face remains flushed, Newt is clearly pleased. "You, um, you date much?"
"Not too often and rarely through my own pursuit. Occasionally my co-workers try and set me up with their friends when they think I've been cooped up in my office too long. I find it's just easiest to agree when that happens." His long suffering sigh has Newt letting out a quiet chuckle. "What about you?"
"Oh, uh. No, I don't really date. Too, too busy. Though, there was a girl at Hogwarts," Newt replies, his expression turning sour. Rather than go into those gritty details, Percival changes the subject.
"Then I'm certainly glad you agreed to come here with me." Taking a risk, Percival slides his hand to rest over Newt's and is treated to a bashful grin though Percival focus diverts, convinced he just saw something-
"Two lasagnas!"
The waitress places their meals on the table and Percival is effectively distracted by the delicious aroma of tomatoes and herbs that greet his nose. He takes the first bite and moans appreciatively. He's definitely glad that he'd taken Goldstein's recommendation. It truly is to die for and it doesn't hurt that at the sound of his moans, Newt had bitten his lips, pupils dilating ever so slightly.
He takes another bite and briefly closes his eyes, savoring the taste. However, when he opens them and goes back for more, he hesitates. He could swear there's less food than there had been just seconds ago and the missing chunk does not look like something cut with a knife...more like a-
A foot connects with Percival's shin.
"Ow! Did…did you just kick me?"
Newt looks mortified. "Sorry! N-nervous tick. I didn't mean to."
More than a bit confused, Percival shakes his head. "…It's fine. Try to aim away next time, I'm not as indestructible as they say," he teases, glad when Newt laughs, even if it does sound slightly strained. Poor man must be more anxious than Percival thought. Keeping a closer eye on Newt and his food, Percival continues to eat and it's as he's chewing the final few bites that a crash sounds. His twists his head behind him and sees that a waiter has fallen to the floor, shards of broken plates surrounding him. A couple of the waitresses help clear up the mess, all of them looking incredibly puzzled.
"I think I need the bathroom," Newt quickly says and bemusedly, Percival watches him hurry away, narrowly dodging the hovering, repaired plates. Percival turns back to finish his meal, freezing as he watches a piece of Newt's lasagna float upwards in the air. It pops out of existence.
Just as Percival thinks to cast a spell, he is all of a sudden face to face with an alarmed demiguise who enters a brief staring competition with Percival before leaping from Newt's chair onto the next table. That is all that's needed for havoc to ensue.
The demiguise is flinging itself from table to table, dodging spells from alarmed customers and staff and upon feeling something slither along his shoe, Percival looks down to see a small occamy wind itself around his ankle. Before he can begin to shake it off, he hears the door open and sees not a guest, but a diricawl casually waddle inside. The bird-like creature scans the room and once it spies Percival, it lets out a loud caw and apparates, appearing right before him to peck him in a spot that has his eyes watering and body crumpling in on itself.
While Percival tries to fend off more attacks from the vicious beast Newt comes flying out of the kitchen door (Percival doesn't even want to know what he was doing in there), his arms outstretched and expression determined. The diricawl manages to get his hand just as he's sidetracked by the sight of a niffler gleefully scurrying away from the magizoologist. The thieving creature barges past Percival and Newt nearly crashes into him. Even though the diricawl is still latched onto his fingers, Percival manages to catch the other man whose face is pale and horrified.
"I didn't bring them here!" He cries over the sound of screaming customers.
"I believe you," Percival assures him, wincing as the diricawl finally lets go. "But we ought to get them out of here before the Aurors are…" Percival trails off as the door barges open and in come Goldstein and Ramay. Fortunately, Goldstein has Newt's case and it's with a group effort that they manage to collect the escaped beasts with little injury (apart from Percival's abused hand and groin). Percival had been stunned at just how much cutlery the little niffler could store.
Once they're all caught, Newt and Percival are kicked out of the restaurant and banned. Rightly so, he supposes, but Newt looks terribly upset. Goldstein gives her friend a sympathetic hug before she leaves to sort out the paper work.
Ramay just stares at Percival like he's gone mad before he too apparates away.
"I apologise," Newt says quietly, eyes downcast to his feet. "This was a t-truly awful date."
"Was it?" Percival presses a finger to Newt's chin and gently tilts his head upwards. "Because while I could have done without the diricawl, I thought it was hilarious."
Percival begins laughing, the madness of the situation catching up to him, and Newt bears the same expression Ramay had just worn.
"But…but how?" He stammers and Percival's laughs die down.
"I've never had such an interesting date," Percival explains. Seeing Newt still doesn't look convinced, he says, "Let's go into your case."
"You…want to go into my case?" Newt repeats, dumbfounded. Percival nods and after going to a more discreet location, they head inside. This isn't the first time Percival has been inside the magical suitcase but it still takes his breath away, the sheer complexity of it all, the range of habitats Newt has created for his beasts. It's incredible, much like the man who invented it.
"I knew when I asked you to give us a shot that I wasn't just considering a relationship with you, but your creatures as well," Percival begins as they wander around. When they pass the sulking niffler Percival gives it a few pats on the head to which it snorts crossly at him. Newt still looks worried and so Percival takes his hand, stroking his thumb against his skin. "And I want you to know that while I might find them a menace on occasion they're a part of you, a part I am completely willing to get to know."
They pass a poffle of puffskeins which emit a symphony of humming as they bounce around the pair. Newt stops to croon at them and this only makes them louder and start jumping on top of each other to get closer. Percival's eyes soften at the sight.
"I don't want you to worry about hiding them from me," he continues. They carry on, stopping beside a grassy area where a burrow sits at the bottom of a small hill. A baby fwubbing ventures out and Percival slowly reaches down to pick it up, perching the little animal in the crook of his elbow. He looks at Newt expectantly. "Go on, touch it."
"Her," Newt corrects gently but he does and Percival almost feels reassured himself when the fwubbing trills and turns cotton candy pink.
"Like you said, it might all be garbage but I'm willing to give this a real good go and I want you to be comfortable, to not hide yourself or be ashamed. Though, I would great appreciate it if you remembered to close the latch of your case properly."
Newt snorts, his countenance much lighter than before.
"Thank you Percival," he says, daring to rest his forehead against Percival's. "You…you're very different to other people. Good different."
Bored, the fwubbing springs down from Percival's arms, her job done. With her now gone, Percival is able to rest his hands lightly on Newt's waist.
"May I kiss you?" The magizoologist whispers and his throat dry, Percival can only nod and close the remaining distance between them.
However, rather touching tender lips, Percival suddenly feels as though he's been pricked with a splinter and he jolts backwards to find he hasn't kissed Newt, but a bowtruckle.
"Pickett!" Newt exclaims and the stick creature cheerfully floats down to the ground using a tissue, something sounding suspiciously like laughter coming from him. Newt folds his arms irritably. "I knew I shouldn't have mentioned the date to them," he huffs. "They really can be naughty, protective things when they want to be and-"
As much as Percival would listen to Newt speak for hours about his beasts, he finds that kissing the man is an equally, if not more, enjoyable pastime.
A few little notes: It was Pickett the waitress was staring out and the reason the beasts all managed to get to the restaurant was because in his haste Newt hadn't shut his case properly and they wanted to see the human their caretaker wouldn't stop talking about. Also, Newt wasn't going to kick the demiguise, just nudge him out from under the table, however he missed and Percival got the full impact.
I hope you liked it!