summary. theseus has never been one to run away from his problems, especially if it concerned his favourite american. ships. theseus x percival ( implied ) characters. theseus s., percival g., newt s. word count. 2.2k setting. after fantastic beasts and where to find them genre. hurt/comfort, a pinch of angst with a happy ending
Percival bitterly bites his lips. This was the fourth time he had sent a letter to Theseus, a long-time associate at the British Ministry of Magic. This also marks the fourth time Theseus has flat-out ignored any of them. According to Newt, a new acquaintance he made after he returned to MACUSA, his brother was doing all the Ministry things in Britain and “doing all of Travers’ work, unsurprisingly.” When he confessed about Theseus' unresponsiveness, Newt seemed a little lost but said he didn’t know why.
“A little busy on his side, perhaps?”
“Seems off character for him, unless he changed in the months I’ve been gone.”
“No, but I wish he did. Still a bothersome brat, he is.”
“Theseus?” “Newt. What brings you here?” Newt can hear the smile cracking through his voice. Theseus stands up from behind his desk and walks over to the door where Newt is standing. He stopped before his younger brother; his straight posture and commanding aura made Newt hunch a little more. Newt clears his throat and answers: “Uhm, I was wondering, well…you see, I’ve been talking with Percival Graves for a bit.”
Theseus freezes for a second but nods before returning back to his desk. Newt takes this as a sign and settles in a black, overly-soft armchair across the desk. As Theseus sits down, he hums - a deep and long one, before looking Newt in the eye. “I’m glad you’re making friends, then. Though I’d rather not think about how you had to almost die to do so.” Newt slightly groans under his breath at Theseus’ statement. “I had made them before that incident.” Theseus nods and says, “Not Mr Graves, though.”
Newt looks up instantly. Mr Graves? Weren’t they friends? “Well, at least Percival’s my friend.” At that, Theseus quietly chuckles as if it was almost funny. “Yes, Newt. At least you made a friend. Well, I hope you aren’t boring him with how to take care of magical creatures he’ll likely never come across or-” “Actually, he’s been inquiring about you.” Newt thinks that he catches Theseus’ breath waver a little, but his voice comes out stable. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Yes. He’s been sending you letters; he was wondering if you had received them.” The Auror hums and Newt squints a little, trying to figure out whether Theseus is trying to devise an excuse. Theseus has never been easy to read, Newt thinks, like most people. “I see…I haven’t received anything yet, but I’ll reply as soon as possible when I do.” Newt shakes his head unconvinced and walks up to Theseus’ desk. Theseus flinches slightly but gives Newt a questioning look: “Newt, what are you doing?” The younger brother shrugs but scans the desktop anyway. “I was hoping you had received them.” Theseus nods, but he remains silent. Suddenly, Newt’s voice rang through the Head Auror office:
“Accio letters from Percival!”
Letters appear on the desk between the two brothers. Newt gives his brother a disappointed look, but Theseus only grimly smiles. “America really got you thinkin’, huh.” An awkward stillness fills the room, and Theseus doesn’t fill it like he usually does. He must have realised that Newt wasn’t entirely stepping out of his ‘Newt-shell’, so he takes the letters himself, then forcefully opens a drawer and places them inside, still in an unopened, neat pile.
“You aren’t usually a liar. Or someone who runs away when someone’s reaching out to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Theseus shrugs before saying, “Maybe I don’t have the answer. At least not right now.” Newt folds his arms in front of his chest, huffing a little, causing his hair to rise slightly. “Percival is a friend of yours too. Shouldn’t you reach out to him? Like…he returned from being held in some bloody cell of Grindelwald’s. I, well, I think a good friend should reach out to people like them.” Theseus opens his mouth, probably to say something like bold of you to say, but instead, he shuts his lips back up with an unstable exhale. Given the calm atmosphere around them, he stands almost too abruptly and makes his way to the door.
“I have a meeting with Travers. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
Newt doesn’t reply, but he knows he doesn’t need to. Theseus walks out anyway, making sure the door doesn’t slam too hard and leaving Newt sitting alone.
“Theseus has received them?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell him that he owes me a visit. Sunday night: 6 pm for me, 11 pm for you pronto. And tell him to floo over into my office, I don’t want him splinching from the cross-continental apparition. If he doesn’t show up, I’m going to London and getting him myself.”
Newt later told Percival he had informed his brother, with no acknowledgement - only dismissal from him, telling him he had things to work on. He knows that Theseus had heard him - he could tell Theseus was hesitating before replying - but Percival also knows that Theseus was refusing the offer as if he had a choice.
“Merlin’s beard- Perc- Mr Graves?” Theseus was in his office, shocked at Percival’s sudden arrival. Percival looked around, scanning the British Auror’s office like a Niffler trying to find gold. Theseus’s shoulders drop, but his eyes never leave the American while going up and down his figure. Percival takes note of it but doesn’t comment as he makes himself comfortable on an armchair across from Theseus. Theseus sighs before giving Percival a crooked - and if Percival observed right - insincere smile. “What brings you here?”
“Maybe you should listen to your brother more. He’s starting to give good advice,” Percival comments. Theseus nods and says, “That wasn’t the answer I needed, and you’re lucky I’m working…overtime.” “Actually, Theseus,” Percival remembers, “I went to your living room and then your bedroom. I didn’t expect you to be working here at 11 pm on a Sunday.” Theseus shrugs and returns to leaning over the desk, scanning the papers Percival assumed were related to chasing Grindelwald down.
“Anyways. Theseus, it’s been a while, huh.”
Theseus looks up from his paperwork and tilts his head slightly. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for a few seconds. Percival observes how Theseus pauses and how his body almost freezes. He only seems to continue breathing when he finally speaks up.
“Yes. It has been.”
“And what’s with the formalities? We’re friends, Theseus. I haven’t heard you call me Mr Graves since you were 24 when we met.”
“Right.”
Percival raises an eyebrow at Theseus’ bluntness as the younger focuses on his paperwork. Usually, Theseus was affectionate to the people he considered friends or family. But now, Theseus was pausing too often, and his voice was quieter.
“You have quite the eyebags, Theseus. Torquil has been loading you with work?”
Theseus lets out a weak chuckle, and Percival gives him a soft smile, though Theseus doesn’t notice as his eyes stay down. Theseus’ hand stops when grabbing another paper from the stack when he catches Percival approaching him from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t stop the American when he stops right in front of the desk and takes a paper from the stack, his eyes scanning the document intensely.
“Theseus, this isn’t related to Grindelwald,” Percival said, voice filled with confusion. Theseus shrugs and continues reading his own document. Percival’s eyes darken, and he sternly asks Theseus: “Don’t tell me you’re doing all of Travers’ work.” Theseus sighs, finally taking his eyes off his paper and leaning back in his chair. “Not all, just some. Some of it’s related to…you know.” Percival groans at Theseus’ incompetence. “I don’t think an outline for his meeting next week is something you need to do, Theseus.” “No, but….” Theseus doesn’t finish his own sentence and leaves it at that.
“Percival, you haven’t quite answered my question yet. Why are you here?”
“Why have you been ignoring my letters?”
“I told Newt that I would reply once I received them.”
“The same person was the one who told me you had, in fact, received them. I hope I don’t have to accio them here too.”
Theseus grins shyly. “I didn’t think Newt would be corresponding this much.”
“Why have you been ignoring my letters?”
Theseus doesn’t reply and lets the question linger in the now-suffocating atmosphere of his own office. When he does, Percival’s heart softens instantly.
“My own demons weren’t telling me not to,” Theseus whispers, as if he didn’t want Percival to hear it. But he does, and he walks around the desk that separates the two and places a hand on the younger’s shoulders.
Percival understands - when he met Theseus, it was after the Great No-Maj War. One that Theseus willingly participated in against his own Ministry orders. He had found Theseus in the bathroom near his office when the British Ministry of Magic sent several Aurors as envoys to discuss how wizardkind was dealing with the consequences. Theseus was shaking on the ground but was silent. When Percival invited him to his office, he watched Theseus slowly accept where he was, and it started a close bond between the two ever since.
Percival has his own share of demons, but he has spent most of his years as Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and Director of Magical Security after rising up the ranks young. He may be an Auror, but he wasn’t fighting on the front lines most of the time as he wasn’t a Head Auror. Percival also was an American and a wizard who didn’t fight during a devastating war, even if it was only a No-Maj one. Theseus had spoken about it before: How the blood he spilt raided his head for days and nights on end. How the title War Hero was too much because he was nothing but a celebrated murderer. How he didn’t even know how his dear family was doing, and the nightmares intensified when he heard his little brother was dealing with Ukrainian Ironbellies.
Theseus’ voice snaps Percival out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be mad at me?” Percival grips Theseus’ shoulder a little more tightly, but Theseus doesn’t seem to mind. “No? Why would I be?”
“I was corresponding with…not-you. And I don’t know, but maybe I should have realised it wasn’t you,” Theseus’s voice fades when he continues, “I was talking to the very man I was supposed to catch.” Before Percival could speak up, Theseus goes on. “I should have known. I’m your friend…but I couldn’t even notice that it wasn’t you. What kind of Head Auror am I….” He doesn’t move, his document in his head now forgotten, gently flapping with the air around them.
Percival wants to bring Theseus a little closer as he feels Theseus’ vulnerability rising, but instead, he stays still as he replies. “I would never blame you, Thee….” He could feel Theseus’ shock from the way his back straightened. “Of course, you wouldn’t, Perce. I just…I just thought I deserved it. Like, you hating on me. It’d be justified, you know.”
Hearing Theseus’ words, Percival shifts so he can comfortably place both hands on Theseus’ broad shoulders - something that got Theseus flinching slightly - and gently squeezes them, causing the younger to relax. “Don’t worry; I’ve always got your back. You know that, right?”
Before either of them could blink, they had disapparated with a snap.
“Theseus- what are you- oh?” Shock dies down when Percival recognises the place around them to be Theseus’ living room. Theseus is now standing, removing his suit gracefully and folding it onto his couch. “Percy,” Theseus smiles as the nickname leaves his lips, “stay over for the night. It’s been a while.”
And Percival knows damn well that he has work the next day, but he figures the time difference will substitute for it. He also knows that Theseus has had a long night and desperately needs rest from the eyebags he’s sporting. So Percival follows Theseus’ example: Percival takes off his suit, places it on the couch and steps forward, facing Theseus. The other tilts his head slightly, not entirely understanding what his friend is doing until he holds his hand up, and a bottle of Sleeping Draught appears.
“I think you need some of this, Thee,” Percival says, feeling like he’s instructing a child. Not that he minds. Theseus only weakly laughs, exhaustion dripping with every breath he lets out. “I don’t like to rely on it too much. But I’ll listen to you.” “You better. Now where’s this bedroom of yours?”
Theseus raises an eyebrow. “It’d be terribly rude of me not to show you where you’d be staying the night; let alone leave you on your own in my own apartment.”
Percival rolls his eyes and drags him to a small corridor that he’d assume would lead up to Theseus’ bedroom. “We’re wizards, Thee. Plus, who says I’ll need my own bedroom?”
Theseus smiles widely and finally does what Percival had been expecting to happen today: be embraced in a tight hug.
(He didn’t expect to be man coddled by a sleepy Englishman and be told he’s the best thing that’s happened to him recently. But Percival finds that he doesn’t mind one bit.)