“We’ll take care of her, hm? She’s going to be alright.”
Tina nods, her eyes wide as Newt wipes a tear from her cheek. Queenie has finally fallen asleep, and they’ve been led into the hall to wait for an hour while the healers perform some tests. “I just keep thinking about how much we’ve missed. Months and months, Newt. Years. She didn’t get to see the wedding…”
She tucks her chin over his shoulder, and he threads a few fingers into her hair, dropping a kiss to the side of her head. “I know. I know, love.”
“How is it possible to be so relieved and yet so, so sad.” It is not a question, and so he does not try to answer it, but he finds her hand on his chest and squeezes it.
They stand together for several minutes, rocking slowly, the clock in the empty hall ticking away as her slow breaths wash over his neck. He steadies them with an arm wrapped around her back, pressing another kiss to her temple.
“Newt?” she asks finally, her fingers slotting between his.
He waits for her to finish the thought, and instead finds himself being pulled a few feet along the hall. Tina waves her wand beneath a sign that reads Excess Storage, and a moment later, they are in a small, dimly lit storage room, the latch clicking shut behind them.
“What are we--?” Tina stops Newt’s fumbling questions with a few fingers brushed across his mouth. Her eyes are dark and determined and so very lovely. Her first kiss is deep, gentle, questioning. “Oh,” he gasps out, lifting his hand to her hip to steady them.
She kisses him again, more urgently this time, a whimper falling from her lips when he reaches to cradle her jaw, kissing her back with equal tenderness, if not so much fervor. Her hand weaves into his hair, and his glides around to her back to press her closer. Newt sighs at the familiar press of their bodies, the velvet warmth of her tongue finding his, and she hums softly, her fingers curling into his shirt collar.
Newt swallows when she pulls away. “I don’t suppose we’re meant to be doing that in a storage cupboard,” he points out.
When she doesn’t respond to his teasing, he sweeps his thumb across her cheekbone, smiling softly at the way her lips turn up for just a moment. Her eyes are a mess of emotions—warm and bright and sad and tired; relieved and worried. “I want to—“ She finds his hand at her back, threading her fingers through his, and looks down. “It’s like I can feel myself building this wall. So it doesn’t hurt as much. And I don’t—I don’t want to do that.” Her voice breaks on the final word, and he aches most of all for the little Tina he can so easily imagine; an open, sensitive girl, who stood at her parents’ sickbeds far too young and realized that if she felt everything the way she’d been accustomed, her legilimens sister would bear that burden, too.
He considers for a moment, searching her face, then glances around the dimly lit room. “Sit here,” he offers, guiding her to a tall stool a few feet away. He keeps their hands joined. “Close your eyes,” he whispers.
She complies, her hand slightly more relaxed in his.
Her mannerisms are familiar enough that she is relatively easy for him to read. The slightly raised, tense set of her shoulders. The worried press of her lips and furrow in her brow. The trusting relaxation of her hand resting in his.
He reaches for her hair, first, smoothing a strand behind her ear and running his thumb along her temple. Her lips turn just slightly, her hand flexing into his, and so he brings her fingers to his lips, kissing first her knuckles, then the back of her palm, then turning her hand to press a lingering kiss the inside of her wrist.
She breathes in once, deeply, then out again as he picks up her other hand and repeats these gestures.
He settles her hands in her lap, satisfied when her fingers slip from his without tension. He turns his attention to her face, running a calloused thumb across her eye and around it, along her cheekbone, and down to the corner of her lips. His mouth follows his finger, dropping featherlight kisses first to her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.
She sighs and reaches for him, her hand landing on his chest, and he covers her hand with his own, their fingers intertwining as she guides his mouth to hers with her other hand curled beneath his chin.
They kiss slowly, deeply, an exquisite surrender to the intensity that has always been between them—to the choice to be vulnerable that they have made ever since the moment Tina worked up the courage to ask if Leta Lestrange liked to read, and Newt offered to bring her a copy of the book in person. Their hands remain joined on Newt’s chest, while Newt lifts his free hand to burrow in her hair, and Tina leaves hers to hover at his neck and feel every shift of his muscles.
They do not move for several moments after. When Newt finally speaks, his voice is gravely. “Better?” he asks.
She opens her eyes slowly, as though waking, her gaze finding his. She touches his cheek where stubble has begun to grow, her fingers gossamer light. “Better,” she agrees. Her eyes are no less complicated than they were before, but they seem somehow more settled. She sighs as they drop their foreheads together, her eyes slipping shut again. “Can we stay here for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“Promise me you’ll remind me of this when things are difficult this week.”
“Promise.”
She peeks at him out of one eye, looking skeptical. It is a gesture so familiar, so beloved, that he cannot help his soft laughter.
“I promise, love,” he repeats in earnest, and a moment later he is rewarded with a grin that spreads across her face.
“I know,” she admits, straightening his bowtie. She stands. “Now then. New admissions ward?”
He offers her his hand, casting a quick spell to ensure that the hall is empty, and pushing open the door. They enter the hallway together, hands linked to face whatever challenges and wonders the day will bring.
Poor Queenie was pitching an absolute fit as he came yelling up the stairs and down the hall... Or, well, actually she was just sort of excitedly boofing out what was likely a hello, but Rias was sitting in bed with her arms crossed when her door slammed open.
The large dog pushed herself against Pakku's legs, promptly leaving them covered in red hair. It had been far too long since he had shown up, and judging by her excitement she assumed she was going along too.
"Great, Pakku. Look at what you've done. Queenie thinks we're gonna all go have a family dinner on the freaking moon."
It was Queenie who had pulled Rias over toward the man to ask for directions, so she hadn't even hesitated to reach out and tug on his shirt of attention. The large dog at her side sat down, job done for the moment, and allowed herself to be petted on while Rias tried to work out what to say.
"Ah... Actually, yes? I mean, no? I mean... Yes to I need help, no to everything being okay..." She shook her head as if to physically clear it and started again. "I don't know where I am? Nothing looks familiar, and when I told Queenie to take me home she just pulled me over here, so I don't think she knows either..."
It was probably a bit silly to be this excited about seasonal help, but Rias couldn’t help herself. Today was special. It was her first day training someone entirely on her own without any help, and she was alonebin charge of the shop.
She could almost smell that assistant manager position.
Everything was all set up and ready: brand new pressed apron, a blank name badge and a selection of paint markers, and the stack of paperwork about the new hire. Since it wasn’t a delivery day she even had Queenie, the large husky chow mix laying down behind the counter with her heavy head on Rias’s feet.
In five more minutes Yanteru Dereko would arrive for his first shift at the flower shop, and Rias was vibrating with excitement.
It would be impossible to miss the building. The only flower shop on the street, positioned on the corner, with large windows and a tiered display of seasonal plants outside.
