Prompt: Newt has been distant the past week, focusing only on Tina and their work. You try to strike up conversation with him at dinner, but, after many failed attempts, grow irritated and leave early. Queenie decides to take matters into her own hands.

Rated: PG-13

Written by: inkstainedfanfics

• • •

You sit at the dinner table with no goal but to enjoy the meal as Queenie flutters around, stirring pots with both her hands and magic. She already denied your offer to help, so you decided to pass the time talking with her. Newt had disappeared somewhere, probably inside the case, and you had immediately decided against a walk when you glanced at the growing grey clouds outside.

Inside is warm and cozy. You're wearing your favorite gold sweater. The heat from the cooking keeps out the bite of chilly air rattling the windows. Queenie is humming a jazzy tune you've never heard before, only stopping to giggle at Jacob's red face when he bumps into her.

"I'm sorry." He says as his face turns a shade of tomato red.

"It ain't a problem, honey." Queenie doesn't break a stride. "What is it you're making?"

You're pretty sure she asks it for your sake, given the sounds your stomach has been making since he stuck the pastries he'd spent all afternoon making into the oven, and the smell had spread throughout the small room.

"Special strawberry turnovers."

"What makes them so special?" You ask, raising your voice over the bubbling, clanking, and simmering sounds filling the area.

"They're my momma's recipe. Filled with love and one other special ingredient."

Queenie swings by Jacob with the pot of stew in hand. "I don't think nutmeg is very secret, honey." Five bowls float down into their places around the table as Queenie sets the stew in the center.

"I never said –"

"You don't have to." She smiles at him and lifts the pot's lid.

The rich smell wafts over the table to you. You breathe it in, closing your eyes to revel in the memories it brings back. Your mother always made beef stew with potatoes and chopped carrots for special occasions. Mentally thanking Queenie, you slide your chair back and step toward the pot, scooping the stew in until it nearly sloshes out the side. Queenie merely smiles at you and twirls around Jacob.

She resumes her humming. The turnovers mix with the scent of the stew and your mouth waters. The windows shake, generating a beat that Queenie forms her music around. Jacob's laugh fills the warm room, and your entire world, for once, is at peace.

Your content joy only expands when Newt walks in, messy auburn hair plastered against his forehead from the rain sprinkling outside, giant, beautiful smile stretched across his face. You glance at your stew, fighting the huge smile trying to break upon your face. Queenie kicks you under the table and, when you meet her gaze, lifts an eyebrow. You give a quick nod before staring back down at your food, trying to resist beaming.

The fight becomes much easier when Tina walks in behind Newt, also covered in water, smile upon her face.

You can't hear what the two say to one another over Jacob's curse.

Newt and Tina jerk their heads toward him as the blistering pan clatters to the ground. Tina rushes over to help, flipping the sink's faucet on with a flick of her hand and dragging Jacob's poor finger under it.

Newt shakes his head, runs a hand through his watered-down hair, and drops into the chair next to you.

The butterflies return, choking you. You take a deep breath. You've known Newt for years. If there's anyone you can hold a conversation with, it's him.

"So, where were you?"

Newt looks over at you, almost surprised, like he hadn't noticed you there when he sat. He smiles. "Oh, Tina and I had some things to look in to."

"What kind of things?"

"Just some laws regarding a case we're working on." He cranes his head to peer at Tina and Jacob.

You resist pursing your lips. "What case?"

Newt glances back at you. "It's nothing that would really interest you. Just some boring lawmaking work." Before he even finishes the sentence, he's looking back over at the two.

"It must be raining really hard out there."

Newt is bouncing his leg now, gaze darting between you and Tina. "It's quite stormy, yes."

With a sigh, you give up on talking with Newt for now. Queenie shoots you an amused look you ignore when you think about kicking Newt's shin. That would certainly get his attention.

You don't even realize you're scowling until Tina turns around and notices. You instantly wipe it, forcing yourself to smile and tell her nothing is wrong.

The chair screeches against the wood floor when she tugs it out. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." You pause. "I'm glad you and Newt could make it back in time for dinner."

"So are we. I didn't think we'd make it before the rain started really coming down."

She's right. Rain pounds against the windows. The table shakes as thunder rumbles nearby and a streak of lightning breaks through the depressing dark lurking outside.

You sip in the thick stew. "You're lucky." You look back at Newt. "If we get a chance, do you want to stop by that pastry shop we saw yesterday sometime this week?"

You managed to pry Newt away from Tina's side the day before and invited him on a walk before he could change his mind and let her steal his attention again. You'd rushed him out the door before she could enter the room. It's not that you don't like Tina. She's sweet if a little frazzled all the time. You two get along well enough. It's just that Newt has spent nearly all of his free time with her this past week. It wouldn't bother you much if it weren't for the way he looks at her: nervous but with a smile.

You'd seen that expression on plenty of boys at Hogwarts when February rolled around and they were wiping their hands on their robes and casting spells to lower their voices. Newt has a crush and it isn't on you.

Still, you aren't willing to lose your best friend to some new girl. "The shop with the little cupcake in the window?" You'd squealed when you saw the yellow cupcakes with speckled shells resting on the top. You had grown up near the ocean, so anything that reminded you of it was an instant buy for you. You didn't have any money, though, so Newt had promised to return with you in a couple of days.

"I already went." He looks everywhere but at your eyes.

You raise your eyebrows at your stew. "I thought we were going to go together."

"Well, Tina and I saw it. It looked lovely and the shopkeeper offered us free croissants if we came in so we did. I'm sorry. We can go in tomorrow if you'd like. They have wonderful peach Danishes."

You shake your head and push back from the table. "That's fine." You shrug off the weight of everyone's stares as you stand. "I'm not feeling very well. I think I'll go lie down."

Newt stands, too, and calls out your name, but you're already halfway to your room. He calls it one more time before you close your door and flop onto your bed, tears welling up in your eyes. That was your shop. You were supposed to go there with him.

You wipe at the tears, annoyed. It's not like you two are dating or have even expressed any sort of explicit interest in each other. He's allowed to be interested in other girls. He's allowed to take them to pastry shops. Even if the pastry shop is one that you found together.

You drag yourself to the top of your bed and yank the covers over your head. Despite your best efforts, the tears keep coming. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had known Newt for years but not felt anything like this until four months ago. Maybe he never would.

You wipe at the tears again and close your eyes, taking deep breaths. The rain pounds in a steady beat against your broken window. You shiver and pull the heavy comforter tighter.

The storm strengthens then wavers while you lie in the bed, trying to relax and convince yourself to be happy for Newt.

Someone knocks on your door.

"Don't come in." You hope Queenie will just leave you alone for a while.

Then the voice comes through and your heart freezes mid-beat. "I was wondering if we could talk."

Newt's voice, so nervous you can almost picture the pained expression on his face, weaves through your room. You hesitate.

"I just want to talk. If you aren't feeling well after that, I'll go."

You kick the sheets off, taking as little time as possible to throw them back up and make them look undisturbed. A quick glance in the mirror leaves you relieved: your face isn't red or puffy. The tears may as well have never existed.

You carefully pull the door open, peering through the crack at Newt. He's biting his lip but smiles when he meets your eyes. "Could I come in?"

You nod and push the door open farther, stepping back to leave room for him. He follows you to the bed. You both sit on the edge, close enough to restart your heart and send it into a skittering rhythm.

He sets a small paper bag on his lap but doesn't let go. Instead, he folds and unfolds the top, staring at the ground until you clear your throat.

"I just spoke with Queenie."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, she thought she should try to help. You know she means well, but this situation is awkward enough. It's too late to tell her not to, though, so you may as well find out what she said.

"Oh?"

He holds your gaze easily now. "I suppose she's right. I have been acting like a, well, like a dope, as she put it."

You can almost hear Queenie say it, how her accent would drag out the o. "That's normal, though."

Newt's smile only graces his face for a moment. "I wanted to apologize if you feel like I've been ignoring you. I haven't meant to. Tina and I – we have a lot of work to do."

"Newt, I understand."

"I don't think you do."

You swallow the lump creeping up your throat as you consider your next sentence. It takes a breath, then two, but it finally comes out, interrupting Newt. "I know that you two are ... interested in one another."

Genuine shock crosses Newt's face before his brows furrow and he lets out an incredulous laugh. "You think I want – No, I was right, you don't understand."

He laughs again as your cheeks redden. "But the way you look at her... You must."

"I can assure you that I don't. In fact," it's his turn to blush as he holds the bag out to you, "I bought you something earlier. I meant to surprise you with it later, but I suppose now is as good a time as any."

The white paper crackles as you take it and peer inside. A speckled shell balances on a towering pile of cream frosting.

"The cupcake?" You meet his hazel eyes.

"I noticed it was the last one in the window. I wanted to go to the store with you, I did. But when I asked the baker if he would have more tomorrow, he told me that was the final batch, they had no more shells. I know how much you loved them, so I went in and bought it. I didn't mean to upset you. I just ... didn't want you to be disappointed."

"Newt, that's so sweet."

He chuckles, bowing his head. "I told you I'm not interested in Tina that way." He looks at you from under his eyelashes. "I'm – I'm interested in you that way."

You don't know what to say, but hope that taking his hand in yours for a moment is answer enough. Newt seems to understand. He ducks his head, blush deepening, smile widening, and squeezes your hand.

After a moment, you let go and reach into the bag, drawing out the cupcake he saved for you. You gently split it in half with your hands, offering half to Newt.

"I guess I should thank Queenie, shouldn't I. I was ready to yell at her for interfering." Some guilt hangs in your chest. Queenie meant to help, and you had gotten angry. You'd have to apologize soon. She definitely heard.

Newt nods as you pick the shell off the top of the frosting and bite into your half. "She may have just saved us some trouble."

"A lot of trouble." You mumble, mouth full of honeyed cake. You take another bite, and Newt laughs. You can feel the frosting hanging off the tip of your nose, clinging to it. Before you can lift your hand, Newt leans over, breathtakingly close, and wipes it off in one quick motion. Without missing a beat, without any sort of hesitation, without even a warning, he presses his lips against the spot. It's just a peck, just a small kiss against the sweet frosting's old spot, and then he's standing, walking toward the door, and pulling it open, turning to grin at you.

"I hope you feel better soon."

The door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone to process what just happened.

• • •

A/N:

Sorry for the slow updates! I was in California!

Also there was this dude behind me in the Harry Potter Hogwarts building who CALLED NEWT UGLY. I NEARLY TURNED AROUND AND PUNCHED HIM IN DA FACE.

Anyways, until next time, 

wild serenity.