newtralize | The End Of Love

[Newt only shifts a little but stays asleep. Newt was used to sleeping with creatures constantly, so it doesn't affect him much when Percival nestles himself into his hair. Likely, Pickett has done it plenty of times, so Newt doesn't awaken from his sleep.

However, it's the morning that comes that Newt finds himself waking up confused. There's a warmth pressed to him that's comforting and he thinks of sleeping longer until he's suddenly wide awake. A warmth. Pressed against him. It was a decent size too (was it human-sized?). Newt sits upright immediately and looks to his side.

He blinks once. Twice. And then he yelps.] Wha-!

[ The night is blissfully comfortable. He doesn’t toss and turn, the warm keeping him settled, and so much so the light from the sunrise doesn’t stir him (though keeping his head tucked to Newt’s shoulder does well to help with that). What does start to wake him, however, is the body beside his moving away.

A small, drowsy grunt leaves him and in the next moment Percival startles awake at the yelp. Everything all at once catches up to him and in his scrambling away from Newt he kicks the makeshift bat-box in the process, grabbing the blanket from it to cover himself before it has a chance to fall off the bed.

Holding out a hand as if to pause them from anymore panic, words fail him both in his mind and on his tongue until the sound of Newt’s heart reaches a pitch in his ears and he blurts out: ]

I can explain.

[ That was, if the horror of all this doesn’t immediately kill him in the next few seconds. ]

[Newt shoves the fact that Percival is naked and in his bed with him for a moment because the clatter of the box catches his attention. There's another spike of panic at the idea of the bat he had been caring for was hurt from that. Except the box doesn't seem to move. There's no way the creature wouldn't have been startled and-

He stares at the box and then back at Percival for a good minute.] Oh, bloody hell. Well? You can't just say that and not, you know. [He gestures at the other to continue.]

Please do explain why I've woken up to you, naked mind you, in my bed with me. [Newt's face is unbelievably red. It didn't help that the other was attractive. Pericval looked like he definitely had gone through some suffering, but that didn't change the fact that the other was easy on the eyes. It made it worse for Newt. Merlin. Naked and attractive and in his bed.

Newt really wants to die.]

[ Three seconds pass, then 20, 48 and—Hell. Newt starts into him and Percival closes his eyes realizing he’s not dreaming. Or dead, for that matter. Well. Dead again. The thought twists his stomach, a reaction he only supposes he feels because his stomach has some substance to it—which only makes it worse, on some level. ]

Alright— [ He manages to mutter though the lump in his throat, though Newt continues shortly after and he wonders how he’ll get the words out.

As weak as Percival still feels, he at least no longer looks as pallid as when they first met here, though the embarrassment is doing well to camouflage that. He’s still thin, similarly to the bat, some odd but healed scars wrapping around his wrists. He balls his fist, trying not to focus any more on Newt’s heartbeat and opens his eyes. ]

It was me. [ His eyes lift to meet Newt’s and they search over his face. ] The bat. Back home, I di— [ The word catches on his tongue. ]

It was the only way they could save me.

[The magizoologist is still very much mortified, but it's very hard to be particularly upset at the man. He doesn't need the other to say it outright for him to fill in the blanks. It does well to sober him up somewhat.

It also reminds him that we never talked at length about the events back home. He had ushered the other to sleep first and then they had quickly left after-

Oh.

Well, at least that suddenly made a lot of sense.

He doesn't want to think about what the last moments of Percival's life was like. It hadn't occurred to him to deeply consider what became of the man because his time was short and his time with Grindelwald (as Percival) was even shorter.

Thinking about it now was quite saddening. There was no way Percival deserved whatever he endured until his final moments.

He'll have to do better about his circumstances here.] A vampire, right? That's why- [Thinking about being pinned down by the other on his bed when they're currently next to him, naked, is not a line of thought he wants to go down. It just makes him go redder.] You didn't have to flee. It doesn't seem like you're adapting to well to it all.

[How long had Percival gone without feeding proper until now? And suddenly the amount of blood he had wasn't probably adequate to how much he had starved himself.]

[ Is he shaking? He’s shaking. Why is he shaking? Certainly it isn’t the lack of food he’s had—or the little that’s been so graciously given to him under false pretenses (though that’s not something to chase after right now)—and it most certainly isn’t his mind trying to deal with what all had happened back home now that he's admitting it out loud.

It also couldn’t possibly be the sound of Newt’s heart, still th-thumping in his ears. Newt’s words make it past that, focusing his attention again. ] Yes, [ The small admittance mutters from his lips like something ashamed that he wasn’t able to control himself.

Percival shifts to sitting on his legs so he can cover himself better. ] I did, [ He says with more sureness. ] I couldn’t... it felt like I wanted to hurt you. [ That guilt returns to his face as his brows knit and eyes focus on shaky hands pulling the blanket over him. ] I won’t have that.

[ Unlike the tremble that’s working through his body the shake of his head is confident. ] There are limited resources here. I’m making due.

[ That is, not very well at all. ]

Well, that's no surprise if you're starving yourself. [Newt says it matter-of-factly. If he were upset at the other for almost attacking him, it isn't showing at all.

Instead, Newt awkwardly climbs out of bed before shuffling through his drawers before tossing the other a pair of pajama pants. They'll probably be too long, but at least they're something in the meantime. For Newt's sake, he would hope the other would at least be semi clothed. Especially because Newt start's undoing the top bottoms of his shirt.] You need to eat. I won't have you starving, you know. [It's not exactly something he's completely comfortable with. There's a certain amount of intimacy with how close they'll be and Newt has not ever been particularly close with anyone before.

And he certainly doesn't want to do this with Percival naked...in his bed.] Honestly, I'm more upset that you let yourself get to this point as you did. There's no reason to deny yourself something your body now needs.

[For all his discomfort, Newt can forego it because his want to help Percival far exceeds the awkwardness. Even as he slides his shirt off.]

[ Percival doesn’t the energy to so much as sigh at Newt’s scolding. It’s certainly deserved, and he doesn’t necessarily disagree with it, but with his energy dropping off so quickly again reacting to it isn’t his first concern. He busies himself instead with nitpicking at the blanket, making sure he’s decently covered.

At least until the pants come into view. He looks to Newt before looking back to the pajamas with a quietly embarrassed: ] Thank you, [ As he picks them up. Well, that solved that; at least he didn’t have to leave here (again) entirely nude.

Turning his back to Newt and hanging his legs over the edge of the bed, Percival starts the draining process of clothing himself without exposing himself to the other man (again). Newt’s fussing does cause a small huff of laughter to leave him. ] There isn’t anymore you can do than you already have.

[ Even sitting the pants are loose on him and when Percival stands with some effort he slips them up with him and ties it together. ] I was looking for alternatives that weren’t disgusting. [ As it turns out, clearly, there aren’t any. That, or Percival is the most finicky vampire to exist. It’s possible it’s both.

He’s careful to turn and face Newt with how the fabric bunches at his ankles, another sentence on his tongue when he gets an eyeful of the other shirtless. Percival blinks once, then twice after he looks the redhead over, tamping down the urge to jump him. Again.

Fingers reach out to touch the dresser beside him for balance—grounding—as he swallows. ] What are you doing?

You say that, but- [Newt drapes his shirt onto the back of his chair before turning towards other. His face is a little red and he won't look at the other.] I believe that I have the ability to help you exactly with what you need.

[He rubs at his arm absentmindedly. Newt was all pale skin and freckles. With his shirt off, all the scars and burns that litter his arms and torso were exposed to the other.] After all, what you need is blood. To say that I can't do anymore seems rather silly to say.

[A twitch of a smile.] You need to eat. [Despite his slightly shy demeanor, his tone was rather firm.] This would be better, wouldn't it? The shirt would just be an obstruction. [And he doesn't want to get blood on it.]

You're still hungry aren't you?

[ Percival wants to argue that Newt has already given him blood and, yes, it only took drops to fill him in the form of a tiny bat, but this was different. Vastly so. He wants to argue it, if only he had the energy for it. Because while he doesn’t speak the rest of his control is being spent on not letting himself give in then and there, the urge only growing stronger the more he notices the pumping of Newt’s heart. ]

Famished, [ The word tumbles out of him with a will of its own, and Percival lifts his hand to press a finger over his mouth as if that would stop the already spoken word again or any others from following it. He closes his eyes and takes a moment, unsure. It was only going to get worse again, wasn’t it?

He starts with a small, swaying step towards Newt, then another once he’s found some balance and only stops when he’s not but an arm’s length away. Eyes are bought back up to the other’s face, as weary as they are hungered, and he asks in a soft tone: ] You’re sure?

[For all of Newt's seemingly docile nature, he doesn't balk at all as the other slowly closes the space between them. Doesn't flinch even though the other looks at him hungrily. Was he uncomfortable? Most definitely. It wasn't about the fact that he was offering himself as a meal, but just the awkwardness of the physicality of it all. Something foreign to him.

He offers a smile though.] We wouldn't be in this current position if I weren't sure. [A bit of a shy laugh.] I hope you don't think I just randomly strip in the company of others like this.

[Newt gestures a bit to the bed.] I don't think it would be safe for either of us to do this, uhm, standing. [Because Percival seems to not have all his balance and Newt can't imagine that he'll be able to keep his own once the other starts feeding.]

[ Newt speaks and whatever little pull Percival felt himself starting down vanishes with a snap, followed by a flash of guilt. He might be famished but that’s no reason for him to lose his head. This was dangerous for them both; he needed to focus. Only the thing Newt refocuses him on is equally unhelpful—for different reasons. ]

I, [ Am thinking it now, The thought rolls around his head as he bites his tongue. Why was he thinking of it? Was he that one-minded right now? Percival shakes his head slowly. ] It was the furthest thought in my mind. [ Was. It might have been a split second apart, but still.

Looking over his shoulder Percival looks at the bed, a mess from all their startle. ] Of course, [ He nods. Their position here was less a moment of eagerness than it was holding a steak in front of a starving man; his restraint was waning by the second now that Newt willingly made an offer. ] Please, [ He motions as he leans against the dresser with both arms. ] I wouldn’t want either of us hurt.

The End Of Love

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