[ It's one of those days where everything comes together and demands Graves' attention at once. While he's excellent at delegating and leaving tasks in his subordinates' capable hands, he's responsible for the end product, and he oversees the hundreds of moving parts that make up MACUSA, making an entire slew of decisions where necessary. To be the President's right-hand man in addition to running the two largest departments within the institution takes savvy, diplomacy, a profound competence and an ironclad will to succeed -- Graves possesses all of these, but it means his personal life is sacrificed, hours given over to his life's work, his duty to the wizarding community.
It has, on the occasion, been a point of contention with Credence and Newt both; Newt, especially, who still harbors a distrust for Picquery, especially so for Credence's sake -- after all, the boy had been severely hurt by them before. Graves owes them, too; the both of them had found him, and were there as he recovered, fought ferociously to restore himself, whether it's with his own demons or MACUSA who believed he would be better off on an extended vacation.
And now, things are finally back on track. He'd taken both Credence and Newt as lovers, caring little for the unprecedented nature of their union, and things are settling into an equilibrium that he finds himself appreciating. Credence is blossoming, growing into himself under their tutelage, and Newt is opening up, too, and Graves considers all of that an acceptable development. Of course, they're still a work in progress (and considering their temperaments they always will be), but the penthouse Graves owns is at least more lived in, now.
Tonight, he comes home just after one in the morning; aware that one or both of his lovers would probably be asleep, he's quietly showering in the guest room, only entering the main bedroom after he's done. It's dark, and he doesn't bother flicking the light on when he finds his way to the bed, clad in impeccable silk pajamas and looking forward to finally spend some time with his loved ones.
The bed seems a little emptier, and he immediately senses why when he gets in under the blankets: Credence is the only one in it, a warm and comforting presence, and he finds himself smiling briefly, running his fingers through Credence's hair. ]
You're sleeping on your own. [ He murmurs quietly, seeking him out. Newt must be working in his case nearby -- the man usually forgets the time of day when he's busy, although he would never not come whenever Credence calls out for him. ] Were you lonely?
homecoming.
It has, on the occasion, been a point of contention with Credence and Newt both; Newt, especially, who still harbors a distrust for Picquery, especially so for Credence's sake -- after all, the boy had been severely hurt by them before. Graves owes them, too; the both of them had found him, and were there as he recovered, fought ferociously to restore himself, whether it's with his own demons or MACUSA who believed he would be better off on an extended vacation.
And now, things are finally back on track. He'd taken both Credence and Newt as lovers, caring little for the unprecedented nature of their union, and things are settling into an equilibrium that he finds himself appreciating. Credence is blossoming, growing into himself under their tutelage, and Newt is opening up, too, and Graves considers all of that an acceptable development. Of course, they're still a work in progress (and considering their temperaments they always will be), but the penthouse Graves owns is at least more lived in, now.
Tonight, he comes home just after one in the morning; aware that one or both of his lovers would probably be asleep, he's quietly showering in the guest room, only entering the main bedroom after he's done. It's dark, and he doesn't bother flicking the light on when he finds his way to the bed, clad in impeccable silk pajamas and looking forward to finally spend some time with his loved ones.
The bed seems a little emptier, and he immediately senses why when he gets in under the blankets: Credence is the only one in it, a warm and comforting presence, and he finds himself smiling briefly, running his fingers through Credence's hair. ]
You're sleeping on your own. [ He murmurs quietly, seeking him out. Newt must be working in his case nearby -- the man usually forgets the time of day when he's busy, although he would never not come whenever Credence calls out for him. ] Were you lonely?