With the absence of Jacob and Queenie, Newt was pleased to have Tina leaning against him as they strolled. The couple ambled dreamily on, carefree amidst the traffic of other night owls until they came to the perfect secluded alley where they could Apparate back to the brownstone. A sense of Deja vu crept into Newt's mind at appearing once again in the middle of the Goldstein residence. Tina was maddeningly quick to free herself from his delicate grasp, and for a moment all he could do was linger to blink after her like a star truck fool.
A new air of grace swept over her as she moved about her comfortable surroundings while she filled the apartment with light by issuing a few silent flicks of her wand. It was a domestic task, unceremoniously preformed, and still Newt could not quell the grin shaping onto his face. She was still draped in his tweed jacket, with the spills of her lavender skirt flowing from underneath; a sight that to anyone other than him would be so ordinary. To Newt, she was an absolute vision and he had a difficult time fighting back the fissure of possessive pride that worked through him watching Tina in his jacket.
"You can use Queenie's bed," Tina said, shucking off the jacket to Newt's silent dismay. She hung it on the back of the same chair he'd used hours before to steady himself after using the portkey, which made his smirk deepen ever so slightly.
"Yes, good." Newt nodded, forcing his focus to his abandoned jacket for the time being. She didn't seem to have caught his gawking, something he was mildly thankful for.
"I'm going to make some tea to warm myself up. You want some?" she asked, filling the kettle from the sink by hand.
He nodded again, this time allowing his eyes to focus on her shoulder as he spoke. "Yes, please. Thank you."
Tina threw him a quick smile and turned to the stove. "Make yourself at home."
Home, Newt thought to himself with a fond smile and a glance at his surroundings. After so many months of living in huts and cabins, some nights out and vulnerable under the stars — living like a nomad as he worked on his book — having a home seemed almost like a foreign construct to him. Even his flat in London felt so strange to him still. His case and the beasts had been the closest he'd felt to a home until he stood there alone with Tina in her apartment. Now, the walls around him gave him more of a sense of home than he had ever truly felt.
Domesticity wasn't a future he'd ever give much heed to; it was a concept he could not wrap his mind around. His scientific mind was virulently repulsed by stagnation, and the job he held at the Ministry was purely out of necessity. He was much more at peace in his own skin wandering the plains of Africa searching for Erumpents or the East Asian Mountains scouring for Nundu's and Demiguise. Still, as he lingered watching Tina put away clean dishes and ready mugs for each of them, he felt that he could live that mundane life, if it was a life spent by her side.
Newt blinked a few times, drawing himself free from his own ridiculously pleasant thoughts and moved to kick his boots off at the foot of what was to be his bed. For a brief few seconds he thought of suggesting they push the two beds together or even transfiguring them into one more accommodating for two people to share and almost immediately he felt his blood rush to color his cheeks. It was an intriguing notion, to be sure, but Newt opted to keep the thought to himself. Even if he did feel a deep and abiding connection with Tina, their courtship was still in its infancy. He was happy to keep treading their slow pace if it would keep from spoiling what they had.
"Has your sister already begun living with Jacob?" he asked noticing less of Queenies things lying around the space as he sat at the kitchen table a while later.
Tina's shoulders slouched significantly, and although he could see only her back, it was easy to assume a frown had twisted onto her features.
"No," she answered, sounding faintly disheartened.
Newt felt a pull of his heartstrings hearing the pang of grief he had abruptly caused her. "I didn't mean to be insensitive, Tina," he apologized softly.
A weak smile greeted him when Tina turned — a somber, forgiving expression — saying nothing more on the matter as she poured the steaming water into mugs. Tina remained silent, sitting adjacent to him, stirring her tea and looking pensive. He'd chased her into a web of her own thoughts unintentionally it seemed. Tension was beginning to bleed into their charming evening like a gloomy fog and Newt felt responsible. His focus fell to the mug sitting before him, studying it as if written on the white porcelain was the remedy to alleviate the latent grief. Meditatively, his calloused fingertips brushed across the chipped edge of the cup as he thought.
"I've got an idea," Newt proclaimed after a moment.
Puzzlement twisted Tina's features, a single brow hooking high on her forehead as intrigue dissolved her sorrow. He could feel the inquisitive weight of her eyes on him as he stretched to reach his suit coat, hanging on the chair next to him. Newt dug in the magically extended pocket for a minute, tongue poking out of his pursed lips as he blindly searched the plethora of contents.
"Ah! There you are." He grinned, brandishing a fresh bottle of Firewhiskey. "Why don't we properly toast the nation? It should warm you up while we're at it."
Tina dazzled him with a smile and a laugh that he felt all the way to his bones. That's better, he thought, seeing that dimple he loved so much press into her cheek as she continued to smile at him.
"Do you always carry a bottle of whiskey with you?" she asked, readily holding out her mug of tea.
Newt let out a chuckle, shaking his head, easily imagining how the situation might have looked to her. "Only when I know the country I'm visiting has an absurd law against selling it openly."
"Touché," Tina conceded with a nod.
Newt eagerly poured them both a generous portion of the whiskey and raised his mug of spiked tea with a prideful flair that caused Tina to giggle.
"Here's to…" he thought a moment. "...to a charming evening celebrating the Independence of this grand country. May it forever stand as the British Empire's biggest failure."
Tina snorted an amused chortle and clanked her mug against his with enough force to chip it further. "Cheers!"
The tautness in the space melted away quickly once they moved to the sofa, toting with them the bottle of firewhisky. Conversation flowed plentifully, with such ease it was as though the two had known each other for years. Newt asked how things were at MACUSA, knowing the Aurors at the Ministry had their work cut out for them. Theseus often spent much of their weekly outing at his favorite Muggle pub going on at length how short handed his department was with all the riots going on throughout Europe. Tina however wanted to talk about his creatures.
"You left your case in England?" she asked while helping herself to more of the whiskey.
The tea had run out a while ago. Newt had offered to make more, but Tina seemed content with the strong flavor of the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey.
"I did," he said. "My mother and Theseus promised to take care of everyone while I'm here with you."
Tina's brows knit together, causing a slight crease to press into her forehead. "Theseus knows how to take care of your creatures?"
The blatant look of bewilderment holding steady on her face made Newt start to grin. He knew exactly how difficult it was to picture his brother in the role of animal caretaker.
"Surprisingly, yes." Newt sipped from his mug. Tina still looked unconvinced. "Mum remains the better of the two, it's true. But Theseus always does his absolute best, even if he manages it in a way that seemed hardly efficient."
It had all been Theseus' idea to begin with, wanting to try his hand at caring for creatures like his mother and brother did. Newt obliged eagerly, giving his brother multiple lessons and walkthroughs as to how to care for each beast properly; he'd even spent the better part of an afternoon writing up a handbook — a guide of sorts — so his brother could achieve each chore with ease and minimal bites or scratches. It was rare to see Theseus Scamander — War Hero — out of his element, and seeing to a case of hungry creatures was undoubtedly out of Theseus' comfort zone. Newt just hoped the bowtruckles would behave.
"I'm a little sad you didn't bring your case with you," Tina mused a moment later. "I miss your creatures…" she paused long enough to finish what remained in her cup before adding softly: "...Not as much as I've missed you."
The last whispered musing wasn't directed to him, and Newt thought maybe, he wasn't supposed to hear it. Tina was looking off into the distance to where her bed sat in the darkened part of the room — lost, it seemed, in her own thoughts. He wanted to respond with the same sentiment, to tell her that she was often all he thought about, but too much time had passed for it to be appropriate. Newt chose, instead, to memorize her profile: the soft dip of her nose, the plumpness of her lips, the slight point of her chin. He filed every inch of her image safely away so he could retrace it again when she wasn't near him. Newt even took the time to notice how beautiful she looked in the color purple.
"It's dull around here anymore," Tina was saying, still entranced with the shadows. A somber tone coated every word that broke past her lips as she spoke and for a moment, Newt thought she might cry. "Queenie's gone so much—"
She looked his way then, moisture shimmering in her brown eyes while a sad smile attempted to curl onto her face. "Your creatures would've brought a little more life into this place."
Tina scooted closer to him on the sofa, finally closing that narrow space that separated them and rested her head on his shoulder.
All at once, Newt felt guilty for having left his case overseas. He knew she hadn't meant any harm, but that didn't deter how he suddenly felt.
"I did bring Pickett," Newt said hoping to lessen some of the shame; maybe even break the increasingly somber mood of things.
Tina's head popped off his shoulder as a fresh smile and relieved hopefulness began to quickly brighten her features. Even the sting of guilt faded.
Before Newt could even move to coax the little creature from the breast pocket of his waistcoat, two leafy sprouts poked out with a barrage of merry tiny chirps.
"Hello, Pickett," she beamed at the bowtruckle.
He grinned in return, climbing out of the pocket, reaching for Tina to take him.
"Oh, tired of me, have you?" Newt teased.
Pickett shook his leafy sprouts with a look that seemed to convey he only wanted to greet his caretaker's friend properly.
"He was rather cross with me when we arrived," Newt explained as Tina gently took the creature from his pocket.
Seeing Tina interact with the tiny creature thrilled Newt in a way he wasn't sure he completely understood. Throughout the years, he had always been eager to teach his fellow wizards about the majesty and wonderment of the magical creatures he loved, but never had he ever yearned to teach another person about them like he wanted to with Tina — to share his world with her, fully.
"I'll bet!" Tina grinned as Pickett scaled her arm to her shoulder before planting himself in a nest of her hair atop her head. "I traveled once by portkey for work and it was horrible. I can only imagine how it must have been for him."
The subject of conversation seemed to vex the bowtruckle and he once more began to scold Newt. He chirped bitterly and stomped angrily, and threw in a raspberry to show his caretaker that he wasn't messing around. Tina snorted with laughter and Newt shook his head in feigned disapproval.
"That is certainly enough of that!" Newt gently reprimanded as he removed Pickett from Tina's hair. "Off to bed now, I should think."
The bowtruckle gave Newt a final narrow-eyed scowl before resituating himself in the top pocket of the waistcoat.
"He's developed a mind of his own," Newt mused as he shrugged out of the garment to drape over the back of the sofa, not wanting to disturb the creature further.
"And right he should," Tina smirked around another swig of whiskey.
The bottle of Firewhiskey lay nearly empty at their feet, and it wasn't until Newt saw for himself how much — or rather how little — remained that suddenly his focus seemed to be teetering on the edge of sobriety. His own tolerance for alcohol was truly higher than he cared to admit. "It's the Irish blood in ye!" his mother always joked proudly. Newt however found little humor and no pride in the matter knowing his tolerance came from warfare. Still, Newt slyly moved the bottle under the sofa with a calculated kick so it wouldn't tempt them any further. Surely if he was beginning to feel the onset of a drunken stupor, Tina wasn't far behind.
She was still resting against him, head on his shoulder and her mood much improved having seen Pickett once more. Still, she was quiet. The apartment was peaceful, the only whisper of sound being Tina's soft steady breaths. His own lids felt heavy as his eyes swept over the apartment, stopping at the mantel clock, its hands reading midnight and marking the close of what had blossomed into a fine day. He watched every tick of the clock, counting the blissfulness of every passing moment as the length of his day started to weigh on him. He longed to rest his head, be it there on the couch or in the spare bed across the way. Newt remained sitting, despite his tired body, keeping still and relaxed to provide Tina with a suitable cushion, all too willing to sacrifice his comfort for hers.
"Are you asleep?" Tina murmured a while later, in a languid tone.
"No," Newt said, but his voice sounded tired.
She was quite only for a moment, and Newt thought maybe she'd drifted off before she could say any more, but that was not the case. Without any warning, she twisted against him and captured his lips in an abrupt kiss that rapidly yanked Newt out of his tiredness. The sudden taste of her mouth was decadent, both sweet and rich with flavor. The kiss was sloppy and eager, even a little frantic, Newt went so far as to think inexperienced. That did not stifle the explosive fire, burning hot and wild with hunger, to ignite within him however.
Tina's hands wove in his hair, tugging and tangling, egging him on with lascivious enthusiasm. A soft moan fell past her lips the second his fingers trailed down the ribbed bodice of her dress, only encouraging him even more. Newt moved a trail of delicate kisses along her jaw and down the strong column of her neck, nipping playfully at her protruding collarbone. He was only vaguely aware of Tina's hands pushing the braces from his shoulders before tugging his shirt free from his trousers as his mind suddenly muddled with rampant physicality.
"Tina…" Newt barely managed, his words getting caught on the moan that came from the feel of her cold fingers brush over the bare skin of his torso.
He was lost in her: the feel of her hands on him, her lips dancing chaotically with his — every one of his senses was flooding with the feel of her, and Newt wanted desperately to let himself surrender to those waves of emotions.
"Tina...Tina, stop," he whispered breathlessly, grabbing her wrists before her hands could finish undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Stop…"
"I'm sorry." A frown crossed her face and she wilted, looking away and letting her hair hang to hide her expression. "I thought we — um…"
Newt could sense the tears that were surely beginning to well in her eyes as he realized how his reluctance must have seemed to her. For a second time, he felt responsible for causing her pain.
With a tender touch, he tilted her chin so her focus was back with him. Hurt and confusion drifted plainly over her face, her emotions easier to see than the clouds in the sky, causing him to feel even worse about his tactlessness.
He caressed her cheek, sweeping a thumb over the bone to catch a tear as it fell, and smiled gently.
"I only meant, it is late and we have both been drinking. Allow me the chance to be a gentleman in this situation — I would hate for you to wake tomorrow with any regrets."
Another tear slid down her face, and her expression remained unchanged. Without a second thought, Newt kissed her again, chastely, and tender enough (he hoped) to convey his feelings since words were for the moment insufficient.
Tina sniffed, and laughed around a weak sob when he pulled away. "So you're not opposed to…?"
Newt grinned as blood rushed to color his cheeks, shaking his head. "I assure you, I am not."
"Just not now?" There was a twinkle in her eye when she met his gaze and Newt was bold enough to see that twinkle as hope.
He sighed, giving her a compassionate smile, seeing that he was right to assume the alcohol was toying with her. Tina's mind was usually quite sharp.
"No," Newt told her sweetly, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Should it happen, it will be when the time is right."
That answer seemed to comfort her as she gave him a lazy eyed grin before cuddling closer to rest her head on his chest
A/N:Sorry this was a day late, I got called into work yesterday so I never got the time to post anything! This may be my personal favorite chapter of this story, so I hope you all enjoyed it as well! Also thanks so much for all reviews! :D
Furthermore, you can follow me on Tumblr fandom-non-sense
That is where you can keep up with my progress, check out my favorite works by other talented authors and even find a link to keep me caffeinated so I write quicker ;).
Also HUGE thank you and shout out to my betas CuivienenGazer and katiehavok. They are the true heroes here and I owe them both so much for making these chapters readable.