#fbawtft

So I warned you that TEMU-level FB boys happened.

Well, immediately after building, Percival existing set both brothers off. (It's okay guys, I understand. He's hot.) Newt kept getting distracted, mostly by the local animals, so Percy got to make a move on These first. However, once given the time to warm Newt up (I'm very mad, i thought i set them to partners, but APPARENTLY NOT), naturally, wild sex happens. Now Theseus is mad. I may have forgotten to turn off jealousy. Oh well. This is fine.

Theseus is just furious about the whole thing, but he's not ONCE taken it out on anyone. Instead, he goes to the bathroom mirror to talk himself down. It's pathetic and adorable. He's also a puddle boy like Sharp. If Percy tries to do the same, I'm gonna blame it on them being Aurors.

"I've botched this, haven't I?"

Newt won't meet your eyes, fingers fidgeting with his napkin. The restaurant is lovely—candles, white tablecloths, the sort of place normal people bring dates. But Newt has never been normal, and watching him try is somehow worse than if he hadn't tried at all.

"What makes you say that?"

"I've talked about Mooncalf mating habits for twenty minutes." His ears are red. "And doxy dental structure. And you haven't touched your food because I keep—I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

You reach across the table, stilling his restless hands. "Newt."

He finally looks up, blue-green eyes anxious behind falling curls.

"I asked you to dinner because I wanted to spend time with you. That includes the Mooncalf expertise."

"Most people find it tedious."

"I'm not most people." You squeeze his fingers. "Though I am wondering why you chose here instead of somewhere you'd actually enjoy."

He blinks. "This is where people go on proper dates. Pickett said—" He stops, looking mortified. "I took romantic advice from a Bowtruckle."

Your laugh startles both of you. "What did Pickett suggest?"

"Flowers. Candlelight. Trying not to talk about creatures." Newt's smile is self-deprecating. "I managed one out of three."

"The flowers are lovely," you assure him, nodding at the slightly wilted bouquet he'd thrust at you earlier—clearly picked from someone's garden. "But next time, take me somewhere you love. Show me your world, not what you think I want to see."

His expression transforms—hope and relief and something warmer. "There's a Kelpie sanctuary outside the city. It's not romantic, exactly, but—"

"It sounds perfect."

"Really?"

"Really."

But that said, because everything in my brain eventually bleeds together, all this has given me is the mental image of some friendly get-together, wherein Newt says plainly:

"I liked your old haircut better." And that isn't to say that he dislikes anything about her. He simply wants to know why she changed it.

But smiling back, calmly, without a hint of malice, she replies, "I liked it better when you don't have a boyfriend."