ain't no man righteous, no not one

by Anonymous

Summary:

In which Credence Barebone is raised by the gangsters who run the underbelly of Manhattan and is tasked with a job which introduces him to Percival Graves and will turn both of their lives upside down.

Chapter 1

Credence gets the message from a Patronus while he’s sitting in bed, reading a book, to come downstairs because there’s work for him. He watches the raven disappear from the end of his bed and sighs, in relief and resignation both.

He hasn’t been given any work in a week and while that can make him feel unsettled sometimes, he’s also enjoyed spending time alone, in his apartment or in the city he knows so well. Walking among people as only one of them and not anything more. But work will always call, he knows, and he climbs out of bed and pulls on a warm coat, for the cold December evening.

The speakeasy is a few floors below him, in the basement of the apartment building owned by Mister Gnarlak, who runs the speakeasy as well. Credence has lived here for so long now and while it isn’t the best, it’s his own and it’s home. Better than the two homes he had previously anyway.

Credence fingers the wand in his pocket as he walks downstairs and to the door leading to the back entrance of the speakeasy. He rarely comes in the front because Gnarlak is an informant and if there happens to be an Auror in, Gnarlak prefers to keep his face unknown to them at all times. But that’s fine with Credence, he doesn’t much like the atmosphere of the bar and he doesn’t drink, because he’s seen what it does to the people in there and wants no part of it.

Gnarlak is waiting for him when he pushes the door open and steps inside the backroom, which is half storage and half office, quiet, the voices in the bar distant and muffled. It’s only Gnarlak, none of his associates, and for Credence that’s always meant something bigger is going to be handed to him and him alone.

The first eleven years of Credence’s life are ones he’d prefer to forget, but they’re what led him here. He was adopted at one years old by Mary Lou Barebone and raised by her until the day he turned eleven. She was a no-maj religious fanatic and beat him for unnaturalness for four years before a witch had shown up at her doorstep, with a letter for him, a letter explaining he was a wizard and could go to wizarding school. It had been a few moments of joy, to know that he might not be alone with the strange things he could do. That she had nearly beaten out of him by then.

And Mary Lou had put on a good front for the witch. With a smile he knew was false, with the promise of sending him when the time came that he knew was a lie, and he hadn’t been able to tell the witch the truth. Of course, he hadn’t expected the truth to be anymore than increased beatings and not being allowed to join the wizarding world.

What he got instead was thrown out onto the streets, alone on his birthday, terrified, too terrified to ask anyone if they were a witch, so they might help him. He’d lived on the streets for months, wandering Manhattan and staying away from Pike Street. He’d barely survived and when Mister Gnarlak had offered him a warm place to sleep for a night, he’d accepted, because he was a goblin from the wizarding world.

But Credence never went to Ilvermorny. Gnarlak sent him to live with a wizard in his employment and for six years he had, being taught how to use the wand that had chosen him, and being taught how to use people too. How to work them, manipulate them, steal from them, lead them into traps. He was good at it, he found, from the very beginning.

Gnarlak says it’s his face. Innocent and angelic, he always snickers, and it gets them every time.

Credence doesn’t think he looks so innocent or angelic. That he merely looks like anyone else does and that is the most disarming thing about him.

Stealing and leading people into alleyways for a beating under the guise of needing help had quickly turned to stealing far more substantial things from wizarding homes and working people, working them to his advantage for information or various other things. He never killed them, he left that up to Gnarlak’s discretion, because he’d told him from the beginning he wasn’t a murderer. He could use the way he’d been used, he could manipulate the way he’d been manipulated, but he would never be able to kill.

Gnarlak tells him it’s the angel in him, but he always laughs when he says it. He’s never asked Credence to harm anyone all the same.

“Enjoyin’ your time off, Mister Barebone?” Gnarlak asks from his desk as Credence sits across from him.

“Enjoying catching up on reading,” Credence says with a smile.

“Reading,” Gnarlak says with a wrinkle of his nose. “You always did love to read.” He gestures at a file on his desk as he blows out a puff of green smoke from his cigar. “Go ahead and read that.”

Credence pulls the file closer and flips it open.

It’s a picture he sees first and he picks it up, raising his eyebrows as he looks at the man’s familiar face. He looks over it at Gnarlak, who only winks and gestures for him to go on.

Credence sets the picture aside and sees various newspaper clippings and enough timed and addressed entries in journal pages that he realizes Gnarlak has been keeping a close eye on this man for some time. They know approximately where he lives, a feat in itself really, but they know his work routine more, they know the places he frequents while working and while on his personal time.

“How long have you been trailing him?”

“Took us over a year to figure out what little is in there. He’s a man that knows what he’s doing. Wouldn’t have made much of himself if he didn’t. But he’s also arrogant enough to think no one will be able to do anything with the information, with enough time.”

Credence frowns as he looks at the picture again. At dark eyes and dark hair, a stern expression as he talks to the press, shoulders squared and confident in whatever he’s saying.

“And what is it you want to do with this information?” Credence asks as he looks at Gnarlak.

“That, my boy, is where you come in,” Gnarlak says while pointing at Credence. “I want anything and everything you can squeeze from him. I want you to work him, for as long as it takes, ‘cause we’re planning somethin’ big, Mister Barebone. We need to know things about MACUSA. Who better to tell us than the Director of Magical Security himself?”

Credence peers at him for a while before rifling through some of the information that’s in the file. There really isn’t much, but enough to start the job.

“The people I work have never been of his… caliber before,” Credence says. “He’s only gotten where he has because he knows the tricks. He knows what to look for. I don’t think he’s a man that’s going to be easily fooled.”

Gnarlak chuckles. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “But he’s never met you before, has he?” He shrugs, slow and casual. “There are rumors he’s seeing the President but I’ve heard other rumors that that’s just a front. That Director Percival Graves has a similar preference to yourself.”

Credence hums. He’s long gotten used to his preference for men being acceptable in the wizarding world and he’s long gotten used to that being taken advantage of by Gnarlak, but it keeps him paid, keeps him safe, keeps him satisfied, in a certain sort of way too. He’s been working men for ten years now, but nothing like this. Nothing that will last for any length of time, because a man like Director Graves will not be telling Credence anything about MACUSA anytime soon.

It’ll take trust. Complete trust. And complete trust takes a long while to build and an even longer time to build with an Auror, he suspects. He’s not exactly an everyday Auror either.

“What if he doesn’t bite?” Credence asks.

“Oh, I think he will,” Gnarlak says with a grin. “They always bite for you, Credence.”

Credence huffs a little and shrugs, because he supposes that’s true, and puts the picture back in the file. “Where am I starting?”

“He frequents a fine dining establishment. Got a connection with one of the chefs, he’s got a position for you ready. Waiter. Expect it to take a while,” Gnarlak says. “Armando’s, in Uptown. He’s there once a week from what we’ve gathered and the host will make sure you’re waiting his table every time.”

“Okay,” Credence says. “When do I start?”

“Thursday. Get used to it a bit first. He comes in on Saturday nights, almost always alone. Woo him, Mister Barebone, but make it last, huh? Make him fond of you.”

Credence smiles wryly. “To the best of my ability,” he says. “Anything else?”

“You need to brush up on Occlumency?”

“No,” Credence says after a moment of consideration. “I’m as confident in it as I’ve been for the last ten years.”

“Good,” Gnarlak says. “I don’t expect him to read you too much but protect yourself when you need to. Oh, yeah, almost forgot,” he adds, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. He slides it across the table to Credence. “It’s a shit place in East Village, but if you need to make it look like you’ve got a place, it’s yours. Furnished already, just drop by and keep it clean.”

Credence takes the key and puts it in his pocket. “Alright,” he says. “What’s the endgame for Director Graves?”

“Still workin’ that out with interested parties,” Gnarlak says with a grin. “But I don’t expect him to last much longer than a year, if you do this right. Get what you can out of him and I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”

Credence nods and looks down at the file in his hand. He’s never been given such a big job and it shows the trust these people have in him. He learned that making himself trustworthy was the most important thing he could do when he first met Gnarlak and his associates and he’s found an odd and dysfunctional family in it all. They’re cutthroat, of course, and they turn on each other often, but no one will ever turn on Credence.

They’ve all helped raise him, teach him, and he’s their man. Has been for sixteen years now.

It’s why he doesn’t feel much fear about this job. Everything he’s done so far has been leading to something bigger, something like this, and he’s confident he can do it. He’s confident he can handle it if it goes wrong too.

“Payment?”

“Twenty big ones.”

Credence raises his eyebrows and nods. “Alright then,” he says and smiles when Gnarlak winks at him. “Armando’s on Thursday. Do I have to wear a suit and tie?”

“Bow tie and tailcoat for the waiters, Mister Barebone. Chef Felix has what you need.”

“Bow tie,” Credence mutters and sighs. “Fine.” He stands and holds up the file in thanks. “I’ll check in with you when I’ve caught his attention.”

“See you Saturday night then,” Gnarlak says with a laugh. “Good night, Mister Barebone. Do us all proud.”

Credence waves over his shoulder and leaves the backroom. He goes back upstairs, into his apartment and walks into the bedroom. He sits on the bed and opens the file, setting Director Graves’ picture aside and beginning to read through the other information. But he finds his eyes drawn to the man’s face.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, and he’s only thirty-seven. Ten years older than Credence, but there’s a youthfulness to him, despite the grey at his temples. Stress of the job, Credence imagines, with a wry smile.

There’s no saying he’ll be able to break down his walls quickly, but he thinks he has a good chance of doing it all the same, if Graves is interested in men. It really might take a year, maybe longer, and Credence wonders what it’s going to be like, spending time with the same person for so long.

Building attachments, faking genuine feelings, faking love, because that’s what he’s going to have to do. This isn’t a one night stand looking for one slip of the tongue, but so much more. He’ll need to be in Graves’ home, in his life, and it will involve sharing more of himself as well.

They’d registered him with MACUSA when he was eleven, put in an official form of adoption and letter of homeschooling for him, covering all their bases, if Graves ever decides to look. His story is already established.

Everything should be in place for this and Credence sets the file aside and lies down, picking up the picture and looking at it for a long while.

This wasn’t life as he imagined it when he was told he was a wizard, and yet he likes it all the same, because he’d found a place he belongs. Found something that he’s good at, when it had been beaten into him for so long that he was only good at being a burden. He’s got the scars to prove it.

Credence smiles a little. “I look forward to meeting you, Director Graves,” he says quietly. He sets the photo aside and picks up his book to resume reading.

He’s got a couple nights to himself still after all.

——

Chef Felix supplies Credence with two different tuxedos and introduces Credence to the other employees and the manager of Armando’s, who tells him he comes highly recommended, but to remember this is a place of establishment.

Felix tells him if he can smile politely, bend to the every whim of high society witches and wizards with cheerfulness, and move quickly while he does it, he’ll be fine.

Credence can do all of those, but Thursday and Friday are more of a trial of his patience than he was expecting. Most people are kind enough and the people that aren’t are what he’s more familiar with, but the back and forth between the kitchen and the floor with hardly a moment to breathe is enough to make him glad he never was on a path that might make him a waiter.

Magic only helps some, rules of etiquette in place for how much he can actually use, for safety and the appearance of willingness to do things himself for these people.

There are a surprising amount of requests for Himalayan sea salt and Felix rolls his eyes and tells Credence it’s a new fad that’ll die down one of these days, but to give them the damn pink salt and let them ruin their food if they ask.

Credence likes Felix, who has an endless stream of gossip about high wizarding society, some of which he sends to Gnarlak, Credence knows, if it’s of particular interest. He’s funny most of all and helpful. He’s only aware Credence is here for Director Graves and not much beyond that and he doesn’t pry, which makes Credence like him even more.

Saturday comes quickly and after sleeping in late and thoroughly preparing himself for things that might go wrong on day one, Credence Apparates to the tall building to begin his shift. Armando’s is on the top floor with excellent views of the city and he takes the lift upstairs. He changes in the restaurant, uncomfortable being outside in a tuxedo with coattails of all things, because if the people he knows see him like that, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Pure Malt,” Felix tells him as he’s waving his wand over one of the ovens to flip a few chicken thighs in a sauté pan. “Bring him a glass when you see him sit down. A double, always a double. He’s used to that from his previous waiter.”

“How’d the previous waiter like him?”

Felix shrugs. “Tom liked him fine. He’s polite and professional. Never rude. Even smiles occasionally, he told me, but he doesn’t talk about work. He’s brought a couple Aurors in before, but that’s rare, so don’t expect it anytime soon,” he says. “An upstanding citizen of society, is what I’ve been made to believe.”

Credence smiles. “There are no upstanding citizens of society,” he says as he adjusts his bow tie.

“No, there are not,” Felix laughs. “Good luck, Credence.”

“Thanks, Felix,” Credence says and walks out onto the floor to begin his shift.

Graves comes in at seven-thirty, so Credence only has to endure high society with a smile plastered on his face for an hour, thankfully.

His real job begins when he sees the man himself walk in while he’s serving a table their entrees. He strides across the room behind the host, who leads him to what Credence knows is his usual table, and he’s dressed as well as anyone in here.

A handsome black suit, his coat taken at the front, and he’s an impressive figure.

Credence finishes with the table and walks to the bar to ask for a double of Pure Malt whiskey, the top shelf of whiskeys they serve, imported from Edinburgh.

He’ll never understand the appeal of alcohol, especially expensive alcohol, but then he’s not an Auror with all of the stress that comes with being one.

Once the bartender has handed him the drink and winked, Credence places it in the middle of a tray and walks to the table. It’s in the corner of the room, set off a little from other tables, with a good view out of the large windows and at the Manhattan skyline. Lights twinkle in skyscrapers and Credence knows it’s probably quite a sight when it snows, though it hasn’t yet the last three nights.

“Good evening, sir,” Credence says when he gets to the table, picking up the glass and setting it down on a cocktail napkin as he watches Graves look down at his open menu.

Graves looks up at him and his eyebrows raise, just a bit. “Good evening,” he says, his voice pleasant. Far more pleasant than on the radio. “Tom finally moved out of the city?”

Credence smiles. “He did,” he says. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight. My name is Credence.”

“Credence,” Graves repeats, the way people do when they recognize his name from their vocabulary but haven’t actually heard anyone named it. “It’s good to meet you, Credence.”

“You as well, Director Graves,” Credence says and is glad eye contact is encouraged here, because it lets him take in Percival Graves, the man, far more than his photograph.

Devastatingly handsome, Credence thinks, and there are far worse people he could have been asked to work. Attraction to him is easy, almost too easy, and from the way Graves’ gaze is lingering, he thinks he might be lucky that it’s already gone both ways.

“What can I get you this evening, sir?”

“Pumpkin squash soup to start, I think,” Graves says and picks up the tumbler of whiskey with a faint quirk of his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Credence says and smiles when Graves looks at him. His eyes are intense, calculating, but there’s interest in them all the same and Credence turns, walking away with a sense of accomplishment.

This might take time, but it also might be easier than he was expecting.

There are plenty of shared glances and yes, Director Graveses, over the course of the next two hours. When he tells Felix that Graves wants the crème brûlee cheesecake, he gapes at Credence and tells him he never bothers with dessert. That a second glass of Pure Malt is his usual final course and Credence shrugs when Felix raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe he’s just in the mood,” Credence says and smiles when Felix barks with laughter, leaving the kitchen to tend to other tables.

He’ll be working most nights, which is the only downside to all of this, but he’s liked most of his coworkers so far, even his manager. She’s a stern woman and seems pleased with him, beyond mentioning to try to come in with neater hair, but when he tells her his hair has a mind of its own, because he’s not about to style it until it shines, she smiles tightly and mentions her son’s hair is much the same.

And he knows that it’s more attractive than greased into a part anyway.

Once the cheesecake has been brûléed and drizzled with raspberry sauce and adorned with fruit, Credence takes the plate to Graves’ table and sets it in front of him.

“Here you are, sir. I might have to ask if I can take one home myself tonight,” Credence says. “It looks really good.”

“Haven’t had a chance to try it?” Graves asks with an amused smile. “It does look good.”

“I’ve only been here a week,” Credence says. “They’re working me through the starters and entrees first, so I might have an idea what I’m talking about when someone asks me what something tastes like.”

“Any favorites so far?” Graves asks and looks at Credence, his eyes still amused but the genuine smile on his face is one that Credence wonders if he’s even aware of.

Anyone could be charmed by Director Graves, even himself, and Credence supposes he probably does do some charming in MACUSA. Might be as good at it as Credence himself is.

Credence hums and narrows his eyes in thought. “The duck confit has probably been my favorite so far,” he says and smiles. “I tried the pumpkin squash soup first, actually.”

“And?” Graves asks with a faint smirk.

“Is it that obvious I hated it?” Credence asks with a laugh. “I think I didn’t expect it to be as sweet as it was.”

“Don’t wear that face when you’re trying to sell it,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence grimaces. “Yes, that one.”

“How should I sell it, do you think?”

Graves raises his eyebrows. “How should you sell it? Let’s see… nutty with a hint of sweetness from the pumpkin and nutmeg but refreshingly light on the end from the squash. The perfect palate cleanser for an entree,” he says and narrows his eyes. “Should I stick to my day job?”

“That was much better than my attempts to explain sweet in a variety of different ways, actually,” Credence says and smiles when Graves chuckles. “Did you quote what Tom told you one day?”

“I did not,” Graves says with a smirk. “But I have had dishes explained to me in every way imaginable for most of my life.”

Credence smiles. “I’ve only been on this side of fine dining, I admit,” he says. “As good as it all looks.”

Graves shrugs. “I like this as much as I like the hot dogs sold around the corner of the Woolworth Building,” he says. “Mostly I like that fine dining affords me privacy.”

“Of course, sir,” Credence says and wrinkles his nose. “I imagine it does. Let me give you your privacy so you might actually enjoy your dessert.”

“I didn’t mean from you, Credence,” Graves says with a smile. “But all the same, I don’t want to take you away from your other tables.”

“Someone probably does need Himalayan salt,” Credence says with a grin. “Enjoy the cheesecake, Director. Would you like another whiskey after, sir?”

“Not tonight,” Graves says. “But thank you, Credence.”

Credence nods. “Of course, sir,” he says and walks away.

Someone does need the Himalayan salt. Credence tells Felix they should just put it out on all the tables and laughs when he asks if Credence will be paying for it himself.

“Mel said you were over laughing with him,” Felix says with a grin. “No one laughs with Director Graves.”

Credence huffs. “Maybe these people would look at us as real people if we did laugh with them.”

“Nah,” Felix says. “You are not to be seen or heard beyond serving them. Besides Graves, apparently, but he talked with Tom too.”

“He must be more human than the rest of them,” Credence says and smiles. “Hard to believe, with what he does. You think he’d be worse than all of them.”

“Or better,” Felix says. “I mean, imagine what he sees. What he’s been seeing for a long time. You see the underbelly of this city when you’re on the side of the law, just the same as we do, and you either come out hating everyone or understanding everyone, just the same as we do. Easier to be human when you choose to understand. Easier to do other things when you choose to understand too,” he adds more quietly and with a wink.

Credence hums as he leans against the counter and nods in agreement. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “It definitely is.”

His work comes from a place of understanding people, after all, and he wouldn’t be successful in it if he didn’t. If he couldn’t read them, see their motivations, understand why they are the way they are. Understanding people became a defense mechanism when he was seven years old and it’s been the same thing for him for the last twenty years.

It’s been the downfall of many, Credence’s understanding of people, and as he thinks of Director Graves and his smile, the sound of his laugh, Credence knows that it will be his downfall too.

——

Credence tells Gnarlak how the night went when he gets home on Saturday. That Director Graves had asked how often he worked through the week and he smiles when Gnarlak laughs and says that ol’ Barebone charm is at it again.

But Graves doesn’t come in until the next Saturday night. Credence had hoped he might appear earlier, but it’s only the beginning, and he will see him every day at some point. He can feel that. That this is going to go exactly as he’s planning for it to and Director Graves, for all his accomplishments, all his achievements and talents, won’t have a clue.

Credence serves him a glass of Pure Malt and asks how his evening has been going and Graves smiles and tells him better now. He stays longer, working through a few courses, and he’s brought some work from MACUSA with him. Credence doesn’t try to read any of the files he’s opened, that’ll come in time, merely tells him bringing work to the dinner table is usually discouraged.

“I suppose this is your table,” Graves says with a smile and closes the file, setting it aside. “I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Credence laughs. “I think it would only be rude if I was sitting at my table with you,” he says and smiles genuinely. “But unfortunately I have a few to look after.”

“If you ever feel like sitting at the table with me, Credence, I’d be more than glad for your company,” Graves says as he leans back in his chair with a faint smile, gazing at Credence with some sort of soft affection that’s a little overwhelming this soon.

Even for Credence.

“Here?” he asks and he’s joking, to give himself time to think of a proper answer.

“Preferably not,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Somewhere else. Maybe somewhere you’d actually enjoy.”

Credence smiles and bites his lip. He sees Graves’ eyes fall to his lips and wetting them is only partly intentional. “I have to think about it,” he says slowly. “It’s not that I don’t want to! But…”

“I understand,” Graves says with a small smile. “More than you know, I understand. Let me know if you're up for it when you’re ready. I do come in most Saturdays.”

“I admit I was looking forward to this one,” Credence says quietly and looks down at the table. “And I’ll be looking forward to the next one as well.”

“So will I,” Graves says and he reaches out, pressing his fingers against the side of Credence’s wrist. “I think I’ll finish the night with another whiskey.”

Credence smiles and looks at Graves. “Of course, sir,” he says softly and walks away.

He gets the drink from the bar and brings it to Graves’ table, setting it on a fresh cocktail napkin. “Anything else, Director Graves?”

Graves peers up at him, the epitome of confidence and relaxation, and he smiles, a gentle thing that makes Credence’s stomach loop. “No, thank you, Credence,” he says. “It’s been another pleasant evening. I’ll see you next Saturday.”

“See you then,” Credence says with a smile. “Sir,” he adds hastily and grins when Graves chuckles, holding up his whiskey. “Good night, Director Graves.”

“Good night, Credence.”

Credence works through most of the next week, getting quicker and anticipating what guests will want so he stays out of their hair, for everyone’s sake, and he hears from his manager three times that he’s been praised for his work.

It would make him laugh, but it means he’s struck a balance that works for everyone, and if it endears him more to her, then all for the better.

Director Graves comes in on Saturday, nearly an hour later than normal. Credence had begun to wonder if he wouldn’t be in at all but he’s relieved to see him when he’s delivering entrees to a nearby table and sees him sitting at his usual one.

Their eyes meet and Credence smiles before turning away and walking to the bar. He gets the usual double of Pure Malt and takes it over on a tray and sets it on a cocktail napkin.

“Good evening, Director Graves,” Credence says. “Late night at the office?”

“A few individuals decided to make nuisances of themselves in Brooklyn,” Graves says with a wry smile. “It’ll be in the paper tomorrow. MACUSA’s Healer in the infirmary is a hard woman to please.”

Credence raises his eyebrows. “You were injured?”

“Nothing a little burn concoction couldn’t fix,” Graves says and grimaces, like he’s experienced it a few too many times. “Had to go home and get the stench off once it had healed the burn.”

“You were in a wand fight tonight,” Credence says slowly, “and you still felt like going out after?”

Graves laughs. “I am unfortunately used to wand fights,” he says. “It’s best to keep the routine going. If I’d stayed at home, I’d drink more than half of a bottle of whiskey for dinner.”

Credence huffs. “I suppose this is a healthier way to spend your evening,” he says and smiles. “Hopefully you’ll enjoy a good night of sleep after. What can I get you, Director?”

Graves tells him what he’d like for his entire meal and Credence puts the first order in the kitchen. He visits his other tables and gets them what they need in between taking courses out to Graves and managing to fit in some light conversation here and there.

It’s Christmas in just five days and busier because of it. By the time the clock is inching toward a quarter until eleven and people are finally beginning to disperse, Credence finds himself tired in a way he usually isn’t.

If this all goes according to plan, he wonders how soon he might be able to quit working here.

The times that Gnarlak has Credence do a job for a customer, Credence never meets that customer, and he finds that to be a far better arrangement than seeing hundreds of people each night and trying not to fling their precious pink salt at them.

“You look like you’re ready for a good night of sleep yourself, Credence,” Graves says when Credence is flicking his wand at the table to gather the dishes into a neat pile.

Credence shrugs, smiling. “It gets busier each night it gets closer to Christmas. I imagine Christmas Eve is going to be a nightmare.”

“Aren’t you off on Wednesdays?”

“All hands on deck,” Credence says with a sigh. “I’m told it’s even worse for New Years.”

Graves chuckles. “I’m sure it is,” he says and smiles. “It’s a bit of a nightmare this time of the year in my office too.”

“Criminals are very active during the holidays, it seems,” Credence says. “Will I see you the Saturday between holidays, Director?”

“I have to find some peace in my weeks, so I imagine you will,” Graves says with a soft smile.

Credence bites his lip and glances at his few remaining tables and coworkers, but no one is looking his way. “You know that Italian place on 37th?”

“I do.”

“I like it there,” Credence says. “A lot. One of my favorite places to go. If your, umm… offer is still on the table.”

“It is,” Graves says warmly. “You’re working the next two Wednesdays? Do you still have Sundays off?”

Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Tomorrow and next week, if you have the time.”

“Better tomorrow than next week for both our sakes’,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Does seven work for you?”

“It does,” Credence says. “I’ll meet you there?”

“Perfect,” Graves says. “Might I walk you out tonight?”

Credence raises his eyebrows and bites his lip. Not even men who are genuinely trying to pick him up outside of his work have ever really been proper gentlemen. Not that Credence frequents areas with proper gentlemen outside of his work.

“That… yeah, that sounds nice,” Credence says. “Meet me in the hall in about twenty minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all,” Graves says with a smile as he gazes at Credence. There’s softness to him, that peculiar affection, but Credence recognizes the beginning of heat there too.

Not a flame he will be fanning tonight, even if he wouldn’t necessarily mind doing so.

Credence takes care of Graves’ bill and makes one more stop at his table to give him a few Sprinks back. He leaves then, winking at Credence, and walks toward the hall where he will collect his coat.

After finishing his two remaining tables, he walks into the kitchen and organizes the bills from his tables and puts them away. If he’s moving quickly, well, only Felix grins at him. He changes then, out of his least favorite clothes he’s ever owned, and into his own, soft and comfortable and warm, most of all, because it has snowed today and it’s freezing out.

Credence says good night to his coworkers and walks out into the hall, smiling when he sees Director Graves waiting for him, bundled in his own long, fashionable coat. Anita’s, he thinks, the style recognizable from the numerous wealthy businessmen he’s worked in the past.

“Are those coattails as painful for you as they are for me?” Graves asks and offers his arm.

Credence laughs for a while, unable to help it, taking his arm. “You have… no idea,” he says with a smile as they walk to the lift. “I hope I don’t look as silly in them as I feel.”

“Not silly at all,” Graves says. “Just a bit dramatic. I like this look on you.”

“Thank you,” Credence says with a smile as they step into the lift when the doors open. He presses the lobby floor. “Though these are more comfortable than fashionable, but that's been my take on what I wear for a long time now.”

“So the coattails are a new experience for you?”

“And the bow ties.”

“No dress robes?”

Credence huffs and smiles. “Not really,” he says and shrugs as he looks at Graves. “Except for a funeral or two.”

“Close to you?” Graves asks.

“Just to the family,” Credence says. “I would’ve worn this if I’d been allowed.” He tugs lightly at his coat and smiles. “Have you ever worn coattails?”

“One time,” Graves says with a chuckle. “A masquerade ball, if you can believe it.” He shakes his head when Credence gapes at him. “My father’s friends were very theatrical and I was sixteen, forced to go. It’s never happened again, in any case.”

Credence grins. “Lucky you,” he says. “I have to bring you pumpkin squash soup with the most sincere smile on my face while wearing coattails and a bow tie.”

Graves laughs. “Have your smiles been insincere?”

“Well,” Credence sighs when they step off the lift and into the lobby. “Not for everyone, maybe.”

Graves smiles as they walk out of the large doors and into the cold night. They both look up when they see it’s snowing, very lightly, and Credence smiles.

“The first week is always beautiful at least,” he says and walks leisurely down the sidewalk with Graves, toward the alley most people Disapparate out of. “Before it tends to get bothersome for the rest of the season.”

“Exactly how I feel about it,” Graves says with a wry smirk. “Snow is by far my worst enemy.”

Credence nods. “I can see why it might be for you. I do like to walk through Central Park occasionally though. It’s beautiful when decorated for Christmas.”

“I haven’t done that in years,” Graves says. “I never remember to.”

“Maybe that can be a part of the peace you look for in your weeks too,” Credence says. “Walking through Central Park and taking in the sights.”

“Maybe you can remind me to do that, when you see me,” Graves says. “I won’t likely forget.”

“Maybe we can do it together sometime,” Credence says with a smile as he looks down at the sidewalk. “If you ever have the time.”

Graves sighs as they reach the alley and stop once they’ve turned inside. “I’m more than glad to make time for that, Credence,” he says with a smile. “Here.”

Credence looks up at him and bites his lip when Graves pulls off his very fine looking scarf and wraps it around Credence’s neck, tucking it up near his ears.

“Your ears are red,” Graves says with a chuckle that’s fond. “You look cold.”

“I probably use more warming charms than most people in the winter. I never seem to get warm no matter how hard I try,” Credence says as he reaches up to touch the soft wool. It smells good, like aftershave and the cologne Graves wears. “Thank you, Director Graves.”

“You’re welcome, Credence,” Graves says and smiles, softly. “Please call me Percy.”

Credence smiles and looks down at the ground. “Percy,” he says quietly. He looks at him. “Thank you, Percy.”

Percy smiles again and adjusts the scarf a little more. “If it’s not too forward of me,” he says, “I would very much like to kiss you good night.”

“I would very much like to be kissed good night,” Credence says and if he’s a bit breathless, well, no one else is around to hear it. Only the one who matters.

The smell of his cologne is stronger when Percy moves closer, something expensive and heady, intoxicating, and Credence sees the heat in his eyes again. Feels the burn on his own skin, his cheeks hot with it, but he’ll need to keep his head tonight.

Percy’s hands are impossibly warm when he cups Credence’s cheeks and when he kisses Credence, his lips and nose aren’t nearly as cold as Credence knows his own are, but it doesn’t seem to bother Percy. They both warm up quickly anyway, when Credence grabs the front of Percy’s coat and Percy gently presses him back against the brick wall.

A kiss goodnight has turned into something more passionate and it’s easy to get lost in this, Credence thinks. To get lost in Percy, in his warmth, in the taste of whiskey and nutmeg on his tongue, in the scent of his cologne.

When they break apart to breathe and Percy kisses his cheek and jaw, slowly down toward his neck, Credence tips his head back, his breath clouding above him and looks up at the stars. He’s been waiting for this moment and yet he’s a little annoyed it’s here.

“Percy,” he whispers and fails at holding in a whimper when Percy kisses the sensitive skin below his ear, pulling the scarf down to do so. “Percy, I, umm… oh… wait, wait a minute.”

Percy pulls back and looks at Credence, his lips rosy and his eyes dark, and Credence wants to be unraveled by him, at this very moment. “Sorry,” he says. “I know I said I’d kiss you good night. Too much?”

“No,” Credence says with a helpless laugh. “Well, maybe.” He wrinkles his nose. “I just… I wanted to tell you before we… before we go out tomorrow. I’m not looking for… umm, well, I’m not looking for…”

“Anything serious?” Percy asks with raised eyebrows.

Credence grimaces. “Not that,” he mumbles. “I’m actually not looking for a… one and done thing. I don’t want to take this further with you if that’s all it’s going to be. I know you’re a busy man, but I’ve been looking for something more serious for a while now.”

Percy looks over Credence’s face, a faint smile on his own, and he hums, sliding his hand to the back of Credence’s neck. “I normally do the one and done thing,” he says with a bit of a self-deprecating smirk. “But when I started talking to you, that’s not what I wanted either. I’d like to take you out and enjoy my time with you. If you’d rather wait for the physical aspect, I’m glad to. I like you, Credence, and I’d like to continue to get to know you.”

Credence watches him speak, his heart hammering against his ribcage, and he smiles then. “Good,” he sighs in relief. Relief for a few different things. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to continue getting to know you as well. Outside of Armando’s.” He grins when Percy chuckles. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven?”

“You will,” Percy promises and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Credence’s lips before he pulls away. He takes one of Credence’s hands and squeezes it briefly. “Sleep well, Credence.”

“You too, Percy,” Credence says with a smile. He squeezes his hand in return before he lets it go. He Disapparates out of the alley and to the alley next to his apartment building.

He leans against the wall there, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply a few times, to quiet his heart. He doesn’t normally feel quite so swept away and wryly thinks he should have let Percy take him home, so the physical aspect could have distracted him from the romantic one.

It’s not that he’s never felt his heart race a little harder when he’s working a man. But Credence will have to wrangle it in, because he will be seeing Percy regularly, rather than simply forgetting him and letting him become a memory, never asking Gnarlak what might have happened to him.

He goes upstairs and into his apartment and gets into the shower to wash the night off. And maybe to give himself a little relief and a little bit of the physical aspect to cling to, to allow himself the thought that he can enjoy that, but he can’t enjoy more. He’s in this to learn about MACUSA and it’s innerworkings.

Percy Graves is a job and he will end a job and Credence has already made peace with that. He had when Gnarlak handed him the file.

Credence won’t disturb that peace.

——

Credence wakes up later than he usually does, plagued with nightmares, which happens occasionally. He’s tired, his sleep not restful, and he spends most of his day in his apartment reading.

A nap isn’t out of the question but only serves to make him more groggy.

He finds Gnarlak in his office a little after six and tells him he’s got a date.

Gnarlak laughs. “So soon?” he asks and grins. “How about that? What’s he like? Respectful?”

Credence smiles. It might be a job but anyone who has ever treated Credence disrespectfully tends to reap what they sow. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s nice. Funny too. And he likes me. Very much.”

“I thought he just might,” Gnarlak says and waggles his long finger at Credence. “Don’t let him rush it.”

“Already told him I’m interested in something serious,” Credence says. “It turns out he is too.”

“He’s never been noted to be seeing anyone and you’ve got him wrapped around your finger in a few weeks,” Gnarlak says as he puffs on his cigar, turning back to some paperwork. “This is why you’re my favorite, Mister Barebone.”

“I’m your favorite because you’re fond of me.”

“Well,” Gnarlak says with a shrug, glancing at Credence with a wink. “Don’t tell nobody.”

Credence chuckles. “I’m going to get ready,” he says and stands, walking to the door.

“Am I expectin’ you home tonight?”

“Didn’t you just say not to rush it?”

“I’ll leave it up to your discretion, if he’s serious about you already.”

Credence smiles. “Then maybe not,” he says and shakes his head when Gnarlak snickers. He leaves the office and walks to the door leading to the stairs inside, going back into his apartment.

He showers and dresses in something casual. The Italian place isn’t ritzy but it’s got some pretty incredible food all the same. He’s only ever been there on his own or with people he’s working, because Gnarlak always wants him to stay away from him and his associates in the public eye. His greatest weapon, he says sometimes, and it’s best if no one knows about him.

Credence agrees. It affords him privacy and security too, to not be seen with gangsters, to merely be a wizard to anyone who might look at him twice.

He leaves his apartment and Disapparates out of the alley and to 37th Street. He looks up at the brownstone, standing in the small patio space behind it, the entrance into the restaurant. It’s on a quiet street and looks like a normal home to no-majs, but when Credence steps inside, it’s anything but. The Extension Charm makes for a large restaurant, decorated well with light hardwood floors and live grapevines creeping along the cream-colored walls. It smells like rich, hearty Italian food and Credence takes a seat in the waiting area for Percy.

Percy arrives precisely at seven and Credence smiles when he walks in, dressed as finely as ever, everything about him immaculate. He wonders what he looks like when he’s anything but immaculate but pushes that thought away for later as he stands.

“Good evening, Director Graves,” Credence says when Percy has spotted him and walks up to him.

“Good evening, Credence,” Percy says with a faint smirk. “It just occurred to me I don’t know your surname.”

“Barebone,” Credence says and grins. “I’m sure you still don’t know it.”

Percy chuckles. “You’re right,” he says. “No-maj born?”

Credence shrugs. “I don’t actually know. No-maj raised for a time,” he says and smiles when Percy frowns, looking at the host and asking for a booth.

They’re led across the restaurant and to a booth in a corner, quiet and intimate, and they thank the host when he places menus in front of them, including the list of wines that are available this week.

“Do you want to get a bottle?” Percy asks as he gestures at it.

“I don’t drink,” Credence says. “I never found a taste for it. Get whatever you’d like though.”

Percy chuckles. “I never know if I should find someone who doesn’t drink untrustworthy or enviable,” he says with a smirk. “It’s probably never a good habit to take up.”

“That’s what I’ve always thought. I’ve seen what alcohol does to people when it’s not an enjoyable experience for them,” Credence says with a smile. “But I know I’m in the minority. I’m sure if I was in your shoes a glass of whiskey would be more welcome.”

“It does help to keep my head on straight,” Percy says with some wryness.

They both get iced tea.

Once they’ve ordered dinner - chicken parmigiana for Credence and lobster ravioli in a tomato cream sauce for Percy - they fall into conversation and it’s easy. So easy and far more carefree than they’ve been able to enjoy in Armando’s. Credence finds he has a new appreciation for waiters and waitresses and is glad he’s never been the type of person to demand Himalayan salt just because it’s the trend of the month.

Credence tells Percy he was working in Staten Island doing various different jobs before he met someone who offered him a better position at Armando’s and had taken it, despite no experience in restaurants, because he wouldn’t have to worry so much about rent anymore.

Percy buys it, because he may be used to hearing lies, but Credence is very practiced in hiding them.

“So what does a day in the life of the Director of Magical Security look like?” Credence asks with a smile, putting his chin in his hand.

Percy chuckles. “A lot of paperwork,” he says and smiles. “A lot of meetings with the President. And, occasionally, getting to plan raids or arrests of particular note.”

“And stopping wizards who decide to pull their wands on each other in Brooklyn.”

“That too,” Percy says and shakes his head. “Tempers tend to fly high around the holidays, not just criminal activity. It stopped being amazing to me many years ago just how often we tend to lose our heads and forget the Statute.”

Credence smiles. “You’d think they would remember, it’s a hefty price to pay for breaking the Statute,” he says and hums when Percy nods in agreement. “You’ve put away or taken down some of the worst we’ve seen in the last decade. What’s it like to hunt them down?”

Percy narrows his eyes in consideration. “It’s interesting. Fascinating sometimes, always a puzzle with many pieces to fit together,” he says. “If you have the mind for the work, it’s easy to look past what they’re actually doing and find the pattern so you might predict their next moves. To find and follow them and eventually, as you say, put them away or take them down.”

“I can’t even imagine going up against the type of people you do. I know you’re immensely skilled in defense, but they have to be just as skilled in the Dark Arts.”

“They are,” Percy agrees. “And sometimes we pay the price for that. But I’ve only landed myself in St Lyptus’ a few times over my career.”

“Is that why they made you Director?”

Percy laughs. “That and a few other reasons,” he says with a smile. “I deal in politics as well as law enforcement.”

Credence smiles as he gazes at Percy. “I have to admit it’s strange to be on a date with you. Not bad,” he says hastily. “But you know the President. You sit on the Court. Everyone knows your face.” He squints in thought. “I doubt they know you have a thing for pumpkin squash soup though.”

“I’d prefer if that didn’t make it to Witches Weekly,” Percy says while laughing. “I am human, you know.”

“I do know,” Credence says. “I bet most people don’t realize it until they talk to you for a little while though. I was nervous when I knew I had your table.”

“You didn’t seem nervous.”

Credence shrugs. “I learned how to hide that a long time ago,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a wreck when I first said hello to you.”

Percy’s smiling warmly as he looks at Credence. “Hopefully some of that’s been eased by now.”

“Mostly,” Credence says and grins. “Still nervous about a few things. But I also know you ate a slice of cheesecake when you don’t like dessert to stay a little longer at my table.”

“I do like dessert,” Percy says with put-on defense. “Dessert doesn’t like me. But you’re right that I wanted to stick around longer. I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” Credence says with a smile as he looks down at the table.

Dinner comes then and Credence is a little envious that their waiter is allowed to use magic to levitate their plates down to them. They thank him and Credence sighs as he looks at Percy.

“We’re only allowed to use spells to clean tables or carry particularly heavy dinner trays to tables, you know,” Credence says. “And nothing else. Doing it by hand apparently makes people feel more important and welcome as a guest.”

“That’s how most restaurants are that deal in high society,” Percy says with amusement. “I am a great proponent of actually using the magic in our veins to make our lives easier and more convenient.”

“Maybe if you start telling the owners of all these high society restaurants that you feel that way, they’ll start changing their policies,” Credence says and smiles when Percy chuckles. “I only get away with not having to buy pomade because my hair doesn’t cooperate and my boss told me she understood.”

Percy continues to laugh. “I like your hair as it is,” he says. “I’m not sure I can picture you with pomade in it.”

“Good,” Credence says. “Because you’ll never see it either. It’s got to be a bad look.”

“I don’t think you could ever look bad,” Percy says with a smirk. “But you are lucky the just rolled out of bed look is something you can get away with at work.”

“The President would probably never take you seriously if you strolled into MACUSA the same way.”

“That’s assuming she ever takes me seriously anyway.”

Credence grins as he cuts into his chicken. “There are a lot of rumors in Witches Weekly, you know. About you two.”

Percy grimaces. “I do know,” he says. “If I knew I might have columns dedicated to my love life in a rag magazine, I might have chosen a different career. Do you read Witches Weekly, Credence?”

“No,” Credence says with a laugh. “But I’ve heard the rumors anyway.”

“You’ll be glad to know they’re only rumors,” Percy says with some dryness. “The President and I are close friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

Credence smiles. “I am glad to know that,” he says. “You went to Ilvermorny together, didn’t you?”

“Grew up together,” Percy agrees. “Same year in Wampus. What was your House?”

“I didn’t have one,” Credence says and smiles faintly when Percy looks at him, his eyebrows raised. “I was taught at home.”

Percy peers at him. “There’s some mystery surrounding you, Mister Barebone.”

Credence laughs. “Not really,” he says and takes a bite of his dinner, waving his fork. “I was put in an orphanage not long after I was born and adopted by a no-maj. When my letter was delivered, she put me out on the streets. Kind woman, I know,” he adds dryly as Percy stares at him, looking taken aback. “The wizarding world found me though. I was adopted by a man who believed he was a better teacher than any I would find at Ilvermorny and it was his right to teach me at home anyway. Left there the day I turned seventeen and never went back.”

It’s almost all completely true. Credence never got along with Holt, never looked at him as family, because Holt didn’t treat him as family. He treated him like an employee in training and once his training was done, Credence had left. They see each other now and then still, Holt running the same smuggling business he always has, but there’s no love lost between them.

Percy takes a bite of his dinner and is quiet for a moment or two as he watches Credence. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to experience Ilvermorny,” he says. “You seem to have found some peace and happiness.”

Credence nods. “I have,” he says. “It took a long time but the last ten years of my life have especially been what I’ve always wanted. I might not have a family but I have people who care about me all the same. It’s not a glamorous life, maybe, but I’ve only ever wanted to be content. I think that’s all anyone can ask for anyway.”

“It is,” Percy says with a faint smile. “Life has too many downs to always be happy, doesn’t it? I do know a little something about not having family myself. Well, not anymore. Not something I would’ve liked to have in common with you, honestly.”

“By 1920 a lot of people were left without a family they loved. I’m okay not having the people who chose to be my family in my life,” Credence says softly. “What happened to yours?”

“Not the war or flu, certainly,” Percy says. “I lost my sister, mother and father all in about three years. Lifestyle choices,” he adds with a wry smile. “Extended family is withered down to just about nothing too but that’s what Pureblood mentality does to you.”

Credence wrinkles his nose. “Once you start running out of cousins your blood gets a little less pure,” he says and smiles when Percy points his fork at him in agreement. “It sounds like you have some found family though.”

“One or two,” Percy says with a smile. “It sounds like you do too.”

“Better than blood,” Credence says fondly. “Not that I knew my blood either way.”

“Never looked?”

Credence shakes his head. “I might be sympathetic to some reasons my family might have put me in an orphanage after I was born but not sympathetic enough to care who they were,” he says. “I prefer to not know. I only kept the name Barebone because I’ve known it my whole life and the man who adopted me didn’t care much either way.”

“The woman who adopted you named you?”

“Mhmm,” Credence hums. “I didn’t have a name at all before then.” He smiles. “I know it’s not a nice name. Not the way she meant it to be, with Christianity in mind.”

“A religious woman,” Percy says and frowns in distaste. “She’s lucky she’s protected by the Statute.”

“Would you have arrested her if you saw her throw me out on the streets?” Credence asks with amusement.

“I would certainly have liked to,” Percy says. “She’s also lucky the no-maj orphanage system is the mess it is or the police might have done it for me.”

Credence chuckles. “I was just happy to get away from her, you know,” he says with a smile. “If she hadn’t kicked me out, I might be stuck there today, for all I know, without even a wand.”

“I’m glad the wizarding world found you. And I like your name,” Percy says with a soft smile. “You’re a remarkable person, Credence. People only come out of what you did one of two ways.”

Credence bites his lip and his heart thumps harder. “Hating the world and people or understanding them both,” he says quietly.

“And being better for it,” Percy says in agreement.

Oh, Director Graves, Credence thinks as he smiles at Percy, you’ve no idea.

“I’m glad to have met you, Percy,” Credence says as he gazes at him and his heart is heavy in a way it usually isn’t. “You’re a good man.”

Percy smiles and it’s a smile that says he might not agree, the way Credence doesn’t agree he’s a remarkable person. But for Percy, it’s true. He’s a good man, that isn’t hard to see now that Credence has gotten to know him beyond just knowing who he is from his work.

There will never be a guarantee that even the person tasked with protecting people, wizard and no-maj alike, is a good person themselves.

But Percy is. He came out of what he did understanding the world and people and being better for it, the opposite of what Credence would be in his eyes, if he knew the truth about him.

“Thank you, Credence,” Percy says with a faint smile. “You want some dessert?”

“I want you,” Credence says softly.

Percy gazes at Credence for a while, like he’s looking for hesitation or doubt or a lie, but there are none to be found. His eyes are a bit darker then and he nods, lifting his hand to their passing waiter and asking for the bill.

When Credence slides his hand toward him, Percy takes it, his warm and comforting, his thumb brushing over Credence’s.

Once the bill has been paid and they walk out of the restaurant, into the back patio, they see it’s covered lightly with snow now. It’s gently falling and Percy’s arm slips around Credence’s waist and he leans into him, looking at him.

“My place or yours?” Percy asks with a smile.

Credence laughs. “Mine’s a hole in the wall. Yours, please.”

Percy chuckles and after he’s tightened his grip, they Disapparate from the restaurant and with a crack, they’re in an alleyway. Percy kisses Credence’s cheek and takes his hand, leading him out onto the sidewalk.

Credence glances around the Upper West Side and smiles, because their approximation of where he lived was estimated to be one of these high rise apartment buildings.

The lobby is beautiful, with beautiful people in it, so different from what Credence knows, but he suspects this will become a place he visits often. Percy leads him to a lift and they take it up to what must be the top floor or near it. Even the hallway is nice, no bare walls and ugly grey paint like Credence’s spare apartment building is.

Percy’s apartment is as handsome as he is. Dark floors and wooden beams on the ceiling, magnificent windows that look out across Central Park and Manhattan, and the snow is falling heavier now, obscuring the view a little, but it’s a breathtaking sight all the same.

Credence doesn’t get much more of a look though, because Percy pulls him close and Credence comes willingly. This kiss is much like their first one, passionate and heated, but there is a sense of direction to it, a sense of urgency.

He slides his hands across Percy’s shoulders and holds onto him, moaning when Percy’s own hands move further down than the small of his back.

When they break apart, it’s only to take their coats off and Credence moves his hands to Percy’s jacket, unbuttoning it before undoing his tie and pulling it off. He drops it unceremoniously to the ground but Percy only chuckles and kisses Credence’s jaw, moving down along to his neck.

Credence unbuckles Percy’s belt and drops it too. “I know what I want tonight,” he says with a soft sigh of pleasure as Percy nibbles at the sensitive skin on his neck.

“Oh?” Percy asks and kisses Credence’s neck before pulling back to look at him. “Tell me.”

“I want to suck your cock,” Credence says and smiles when Percy’s eyes grow darker, his eyelids heavier. “And then I want to ride you until you come inside of me. But if you have something else in mind, I want to hear it.”

Percy chuckles, low with arousal. “I think I can get on board with that, sweetheart,” he says and moves his hands to Credence’s ass, squeezing it. “Bedroom?”

“Yes, please,” Credence says with a grin. After they’ve kicked their shoes off and Percy has led Credence into his bedroom, turning on a lamp, Credence stops him from pulling off his waistcoat. “Leave it on. Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Percy raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Anything for you,” he says. “You like the suit on?”

“I’ve never seen a man that looks as good in a suit as you,” Credence says and finds that he means this, completely. “I want you naked after. But if you ever want to fuck me while wearing it…”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Percy says with a chuckle. “You are very sure of what you want, aren’t you?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Credence says as he watches Percy sit on the edge of the bed and spread his legs open invitingly. “I’d like to hear everything you want too.”

Percy smirks. “I don’t mind at all, Credence,” he says and it’s in a husky sort of way that sends a surge of arousal through Credence’s blood. “If I can give you what you want, I gladly will. I plan on doing this as often as we have the time and mood for it.”

Credence smiles as he gets onto his knees between Percy’s. “Good,” he says softly. “I want this as much as I want to know you. All of you, someday.”

He finishes buttoning the waistcoat and does the same to Percy’s shirt, pushing them open but leaving them on. He looks up at Percy, who is watching him with a faint smile, arousal plain on his face and he moves his hand to Credence’s hair, brushing his fingers through it.

“You’re stunning, Credence,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

Credence’s cheeks feel warm and he smiles as he looks down at Percy’s trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them. “Thank you,” he says. He tugs on Percy’s underclothes until he frees his cock and looks it over, flushed with blood, thick and perfectly sized. He sighs and looks at Percy. “You’re perfect all around, you know.”

Percy chuckles. “As long as you think so,” he says and hisses when Credence wraps his hand around his cock and gives him a slow stroke. “Fuck, Credence.”

Credence likes hearing his name come out of Percy’s mouth that way. Grunted and with a low, simmering pleasure. His own cock throbs but he’s more concerned about Percy’s. He moves closer and grips Percy’s hip as he leans in and licks the bead of precome off the tip of his cock.

He takes Percy into his mouth and closes his eyes as he listens to him groan. His fingers are still in Credence’s hair but he’s not gripping or guiding him. Credence is glad for it, thinks it’s the gentleman Percy is continually proving himself to be, and moves further down his cock, slow and gentle.

“Fuck,” Percy swears again, his breath hitching. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

Credence hums around Percy’s cock and takes him in deep before pulling up, once he’s slick with spit. He holds the base of Percy’s cock, over his trousers, and swirls his tongue around the head, just until Percy curses with more fervor.

He moves, up and down along him, and Percy’s fingers do tighten then, but not enough to hurt. His groans and the whisper of Credence’s name makes him whine and he finds he’s more eager to be fucked than he has been in a while.

The sound of his mouth moving over a cock has always been a turn on to Credence and it’s only more so with Percy. Obscene outside of a bedroom to most people and Credence wonders if Percy will let him do this to him outside of a bedroom. Outside of the apartment.

That thought is a turn on too.

Credence can feel Percy’s thigh muscles tightening when he moves faster and slows down to work on the head of his cock, tasting more of his precome, dipping his tongue into the slit, until Percy’s hissing at the sensitivity.

He only takes him deep into his throat a few more times, so Percy might not come, but it’s hard not to keep going, because the sounds Percy is making are beautiful.

“Fuck!” Percy chokes out when Credence takes him all the way in. “Credence, if you still want to ride my cock, you better do it or I’m going to come down your throat,” he says through a few heaving breaths.

Credence pulls off of him and licks his lips as he looks up at Percy, a few strands of his dark hair hanging over his forehead now, and he looks a bit ruined. Possibly the best thing Credence has seen to date.

He grins. “You couldn’t go again?” he teases as he strokes Percy’s cock, slow and loose.

Percy huffs a little, moving his hand down to Credence’s mouth, his thumb brushing over Credence’s lower lip, until Credence takes it into his mouth and sucks on it.

“I’m sure I could,” Percy says with a lazy smirk. “But I’d rather come inside you first tonight. Maybe down your throat next time. I’d like to return the favor too.”

Credence hums around Percy’s thumb before letting it go. “Sounds good to me,” he says with a smile. “Do you like being fucked too?”

“I do,” Percy says. “Haven’t been in a while but I’m looking forward to it with you. I think I’ll enjoy just about everything with you, Credence.”

“Good,” Credence says and wipes his chin off. “When was the last time you were with anyone? And where’s your lube?”

Percy chuckles and holds his hand out toward his nightstand. The drawer opens and a bottle of personal lubricant zooms into his hand. “It’s been a while since I took someone home at all. Over a year,” he says and smiles. “I don’t go out except to Armando’s and a bar with a colleague.”

“I guess I got lucky then,” Credence says with a smile. “Your long days probably don’t help.”

“They do not,” Percy sighs in agreement. “But then I haven’t wanted to spend time with anyone in a long time either. I’ll have the time to give you that you deserve from me.”

Credence stands on achy knees and leans in, kissing Percy gently. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’m glad you feel the same way I do.” He pulls back and takes his shirt and undershirt off, tossing them on the ground.

Percy looks him over with a sigh of pleasure. “Beautiful,” he says and pulls his waistcoat and jacket off all the way. He reaches forward and hooks his fingers in Credence’s trousers, pulling him closer.

Credence lets him, smiling and moving his hands up, brushing his fingers through Percy’s hair as he works on getting Credence’s trousers off. He kisses Credence’s navel and alongside the line of hair leading to his underclothes. Percy kisses Credence’s hip then and looks up at him as he pulls those off.

He’s sweet, sweeter than most, not in a rush for either of them to finish. But then, Credence has never done this with anyone - job or not - where they mean to have it continue. Where they mean for this to be the first of many.

“I want to get you ready,” Percy says. “How would you like me to?”

“I probably won’t need much,” Credence says and laughs when Percy raises his eyebrows in a way that says you don’t say. “I might do this more often than you.”

“I’ve gathered,” Percy says and pinches Credence’s ass. “I like the confidence in you. Were you tired of it not being serious?”

Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says and pulls back a little. “I think I’ve been tired of that for a while, actually. Lay on your back, I want to be on top of you.”

Percy gets out of his trousers and moves onto the bed, lying down and offering his hand to Credence. Credence takes it and straddles his waist. He looks Percy over, the strength he has in him, the smoothness of his skin, only marred by a scar here and there.

He slides his hands along his abdomen and chest, over his shoulders and leans down so he can kiss Percy. It’s a slow and gentle thing and Percy’s arms are tight around his back.

Credence rocks his hips until their cocks slide together and he moans. They break apart so Percy can grab the lube, which has rolled down toward his thigh, and his hand slides along Credence’s back before stopping, once he feels anything but smooth skin.

He looks at Credence then with a frown and Credence only smiles.

“Later,” he says. “I’ll tell you later. I want you in me, Percy.”

Percy furrows his brow and looks like he’s been thrown off kilter, which Credence has done to him a few times tonight, but that’s okay for now. “Alright, sweetheart,” Percy says and gets lube on his fingers, until three are slick with it.

Credence moves forward to make it easier, holding himself up, and closes his eyes, biting his lower lip when Percy’s fingers move back and to his hole. He spreads the lube slowly around it, thankfully the kind that goes warm once it’s on skin, and slides one finger inside and Credence gasps.

“Oh,” he whispers. He whines when Percy’s finger curls in him, finding his prostate and rubbing against it. “Right there, Percy.”

Credence looks down at Percy and the way Percy is looking at him is enough to throw him off kilter too. There’s such affection in his gaze, more than Credence deserves so soon, and he doesn’t know what Percy sees in him, but it simultaneously thrills and terrifies him.

Percy slides another finger in as they look at each other and Credence’s mouth falls open as he moans and gently rocks back against his fingers.

“You’re a damn work of art, Credence.”

Credence grins and laughs through the pleasure, his cheeks hot. “What does that make you then?”

“A fucking lucky bastard,” Percy says with a smirk and curls his fingers until Credence is moaning again. “That’s it. You want another?”

Credence can only nod while Percy’s stroking him the way he is and try not to rock back too hard when Percy pulls his fingers out but pushes three in. He gasps and tilts his head back, his toes curling.

“Fuck yes,” Credence gasps. He presses back more insistently until Percy begins to thrust his fingers in and out of him, an easy slick, slide. “Percy,” he whines, his cock throbbing between them, leaking heavily. “That feels so good. I’m ready. I want you in me.”

“Alright, love,” Percy says roughly and sounds rather ruined again. He pulls his fingers out and when his hand grips Credence’s hip, it’s dry and clean.

Credence sits up and he’s breathing unevenly as he looks down at Percy. He licks his lips and picks up the lube, putting some in his palm and feeling it warm up. He moves back and spreads it over Percy’s cock, watching Percy’s head tip back, the line of his throat an incredibly fine sight.

He slicks his own cock as well and moves forward, until he can reach back and grasp Percy’s cock, holding it steady. Credence looks at Percy then as he presses down against the head and bites his lip when he slides in with only a slight burn that’s gone as easily as it came. His body is well used to this. He moves down slowly then, until he can let go of Percy and seats himself on his lap.

“Fuck,” Credence whispers and adjusts himself until he’s comfortable, reaching back and grasping onto Percy’s thighs. “Oh, you’re perfect, Percy. You feel so good.”

“Credence,” Percy moans and holds tight onto Credence’s waist. “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. If only you knew.”

Credence can see the faint shadow of snowflakes on the wall in front of him, the window curtains open behind him, and he wonders what he looks like with them falling behind him, wonders what Percy would look like in the same way.

He moves then, a few slow rolls of his hips, moaning at the feel of Percy’s thick cock shifting inside him. Percy whispers please and Credence slides up and back down, slowly, until he finds the right rhythm.

It’s easy to move faster then, both of them pushed well to the edge of arousal, and Credence rides Percy with determination, a harsh slap of skin on skin ringing through the room. He cries out, broken, each time Percy is buried deep in him.

Percy’s groans are music to his ears and his hands move along Credence. Over his thighs and hips, his stomach and around to his back. He touches Credence like he’s worth something, worth being touched, worth being admired, and if Credence’s next cry sounds a little more broken, it doesn’t seem to bother Percy.

He wraps his hand around Credence’s cock instead, slick with lube and strokes him. Credence’s movements falter and Percy’s other hand on his hip guides him back into it, but his skin is on fire and he’s so close.

“I need to come,” Credence gasps and looks down at Percy, at the pleasure on his own face, at his hand on Credence’s cock. “Oh, Merlin, please, Percy, I want to come!”

“Come, love,” Percy says hoarsely, twisting his wrist just right as he strokes Credence. “Let me see you.”

Credence shudders and he tightens his grip on Percy’s thighs as he moves a bit harder and faster, enough to push him over the edge. He throws his head back with a cry of Percy’s name as he comes, hot and wet, his ass squeezing Percy’s cock with each spasm that moves through his own.

Percy groans, long and low, and it must be just enough for him too, because Credence feels his cock pulsing inside of him. He looks down through the haze of his orgasm and at Percy, at the way his brow is furrowed, his mouth open as he fills Credence with his come.

He’s beautiful, Credence thinks a bit wildly, beautiful in every way, and Credence wants to see this, as often as he can, all the time, forever.

He leans forward and presses his hands on the bed by Percy’s shoulders, looking down at him, moaning softly as he finishes. “Oh,” he pants. “Oh, Merlin.”

Percy smiles through a heavy breath and moves his hands up, sliding along Credence’s hips and over his lower back. He leans up and Credence meets him, kissing him, only a brief thing as they catch their breath.

“You’re incredible, Credence,” Percy says. “Everything about you.”

Credence smiles before biting his lip. “You are too, Percy,” he says and leans down to kiss his chin. He sits up again because Percy is softening, keeping him inside for a moment longer, and looks at his come over Percy’s stomach.

He’s going to be horny for a month, he knows, and if they don't see each other as often as they’d like, he has plenty to remember in the meantime.

After a bit of a mess that Percy swiftly cleans up, Credence rolls onto his back next to him and looks at the windows, at the thick snowfall outside. He smiles and looks at Percy then, who waves his hand over his stomach so that mess disappears too.

“I can’t do that,” he says and smiles when Percy looks at him. “Wandless magic. I can barely do nonverbal magic.”

Percy smiles. “Not many who spent seven years at Ilvermorny can either,” he says. “Well, nonverbal is taught in sixth and seventh, but not wandless. Hard thing to master.”

“You make it look so easy,” Credence says and moves onto his side to face Percy, resting his hand on his stomach with some hesitation.

Percy picks his hand up and kisses his knuckles. He holds it then and smiles. “Took me a long time to learn it,” he says. “A lot of training to master it. But it keeps me alive, so it’s worth it.”

Credence smiles. “Maybe you can give me some pointers on nonverbal magic someday,” he says. “Not that I think I’ll be using it for defense. But it’d be nice to be confident in nonverbal.”

“I can definitely do that,” Percy says with a chuckle. “You damn well better not need it for defense.”

“Just to clean my apartment and not say Scourgify fifteen times as I do,” Credence says with a cheeky smile.

Percy smiles and shakes his head, leaning over to kiss Credence’s forehead. “It’s a nice image though, you wandering around yelling Scourgify at everything,” he says and chuckles when Credence elbows him. “You staying tonight?”

“Maybe,” Credence says. “Do I have to leave at four in the morning so you can go to work?”

“I don’t leave at four,” Percy says. “I leave at five.” He laughs when Credence groans. “We can sleep in a little. Maybe aim for six. Six-thirty is pushing it, they’ll send the hounds after me if I’m so late.”

“Aren’t you the boss?”

“The boss that’s never been late before.”

Credence sighs. “You’re a workaholic, aren’t you? You don’t even get to the restaurant until seven.”

“I take long lunches to break up the day,” Percy says and smiles. “And I’ll be taking the time off when you have time of your own, remember?”

“True. Still makes you a workaholic,” Credence says. “Do you do anything for Christmas?”

“Not really,” Percy says. “Get a few gifts by owl in the morning and make some good food and drink some good whiskey. Catch up on a book or two.”

Credence smiles as he watches Percy. “You like to read?”

“I love to read. Spent a lot of my time in Ilvermorny in the library reading for leisure if it wasn’t for homework. I wish I had the time to do it more often.”

“I wish you did too. Reading is the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes,” Credence sighs and rests his head near Percy’s shoulder, looking up at the windows, snowflakes drifting past them. “My friends always give me a stack of books on Christmas and I spend the rest of the day in my apartment reading. They all drink too much for it to be enjoyable for me otherwise.”

“Have you ever had an enjoyable Christmas?” Percy asks and squeezes Credence’s hand.

“If you mean by eating a Christmas feast and spending time with loved ones while feeling the holiday spirit, no,” Credence says quietly. “But it’s not so bad, reading in my apartment. It’s peaceful.”

Percy hums. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he says and kisses Credence’s forehead when he yawns. He raises his hand until the sheets and comforter slide over them. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Credence says with a smile, mostly for himself. “Thanks, Percy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Percy says and the lamp turns off with a click. The moonlight isn’t so bright, hidden behind the thick storm clouds, but it’s brighter than Credence’s room by far.

He watches the snowfall for a while and listens to Percy’s slow and deep breathing, feeling it beneath his hand. Credence falls asleep to that, more of a comfort than it’s ever been before.

——

Credence wakes in the morning to Percy’s warm hand rubbing his lower back and the touch of his lips on his shoulder.

It’s such an unusual way to be woken up, Credence thinks, foreign to him, but he’s already relaxed into it and he smiles to himself before turning his head and looking up at Percy.

Percy smiles, propped up on his elbow, the lamp on, a soft enough light that it’s not bothersome. “Six,” he says quietly. “As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day.”

Credence hums and stretches, moving his arms out from under his pillow and propping himself up enough so he can steal a kiss. “We should do that soon,” he says and smiles. “I’m gonna go home and go back to bed though.”

“I envy you,” Percy chuckles and leans down to kiss Credence again. His hand slides up and down along Credence’s back and the scars don’t seem to bother him. “Want to shower with me before you go?”

“Yes, please,” Credence says.

They get up after that and Credence envies Percy for the obvious energy he already has. He hadn’t had nightmares and he’d slept well, but the night before hadn’t been ideal. He suspects relaxing for Percy is as stressful as not having any time for relaxing is for Credence.

Hopefully they strike a nice balance soon enough.

Percy’s shower is large and the water is warm and he stands behind Credence as he washes his hair for him, possibly the best thing he’s ever felt. Percy rinses his hair clean and moves his hands down along Credence’s shoulders and arms.

“I know it’s ugly,” he says, because he can feel Percy’s stare.

“It’s not ugly,” Percy says quietly, something tight in his voice. “Nothing about you could ever be. I only wish you hadn’t suffered it.”

Credence hums as he grabs the soap and wets it so he can clean himself. “It was a long time ago,” he says and smiles. “I had to stop caring about them or I’d never move on. It did take me a few years to be comfortable shirtless in front of anyone though.”

“You’re beautiful, Credence,” Percy says. “I hope others have told you that.”

“Not the way you do,” Credence says and bites his lip, glad he’s turned away because his eyes burn unexpectedly. He’s going to have to get over this little hurdle soon so he can refocus on why he’s doing this.

Twenty big ones and his continued safety, his continued security.

Percy’s loss will shake up the wizarding world for a long while. It’s bound to change things and for the better, for him, for the people he knows. For a while anyway.

But MACUSA will be damaged as well, taken advantage of, even if they come back stronger after.

Credence turns around once he’s got a hold of himself and looks at Percy with a smile, handing him the soap. “Come on, you don’t want to be later than you already are.”

Once they’ve finished and dried and dressed, Percy wraps his arms around Credence and kisses him, slow and deep, and Credence holds on, and knows this is just the first of many mornings.

Credence Disapparates out of the alley after telling Percy to have a good day and appears in the small walkway between Gnarlak’s office and the stairs. Dawn is breaking and Credence looks up at the sky as it begins to brighten, the stars still faintly visible.

He smiles and walks inside, upstairs and into his apartment. He kicks his shoes off and collapses into bed, grabbing Percy’s picture off of his night stand. Credence looks at it for a while, tracing the lines of his face, and thinks about knowing the man now. Knowing who he is, what he’s like, and it’s strange, what just a few weeks can do.

Credence falls asleep with Percy’s picture on his chest and doesn’t wake until the sun has long been in the sky.

——

“Do you know how horrible this is?” Credence asks Felix on Wednesday night, around seven in the evening. “Do you?”

Felix snickers as he throws a handful of freshly made pasta into a pot of boiling water. “You knew this would be a long job,” he says as he looks at Credence with a grin. “Sometimes you gotta sacrifice a little, Cree.”

Credence groans and stretches his arms in different directions, trying to get the ache out of his shoulders. He’s hiding in the kitchen for a minute or two, down by Felix’s station, and the other chefs are talking loudly down along the way.

Christmas Eve is a nightmare. Credence wishes his manager, Astoria, was on the take, so he only had to work a couple days a week and not five of them. Not Christmas Eve, especially, because it’s an absolute nightmare.

The holiday spirit in high society means more booze, but it also means having to say Merry Christmas every five minutes and granting their frankly ridiculous requests, because they feel even bolder than they already are, like they’re due their nonsense because of the holiday.

He doesn’t even get anything out of this. Just some extra coin, not nearly as much as he earns otherwise, and he won’t see Percy until Saturday. An entire week of pretending to be normal, of pretending this is a regular job, all so he can work a man and he fears he might be stuck here for a long time yet.

“I hate my job,” Credence says petulantly.

“You love it,” Felix says. “Or you wouldn’t do it.”

“I’m going to get myself a nice apartment after this,” Credence declares. “Away from the bar. Something with nice floors. And windows. I don’t care what anyone says about it.”

“At least you’re aiming big,” Felix says and laughs. “Nice floors and windows. I don’t want to know what you’re getting paid,” he adds quietly and winks at Credence. “But maybe aim even bigger.”

“I can’t be too showy,” Credence sighs. “Well, maybe I can. I don’t know, we’ll see.”

They look at Ry as she walks down toward them, her eyebrows raised. “Credence, you have two tables looking for you. Better get to them before Astoria notices you’re hiding,” she says with a faint smirk before turning on her heel and leaving.

Credence sighs. “I hate my job,” he says and smiles wanly when Felix pats his shoulder. “Four more hours.”

“Four more hours,” Felix agrees as he flicks his wand at the stove.

Four more hours goes by quickly, as much of a nightmare as it is, and he only gets the chance to hide one more time, mostly so he can catch his breath. He changes in the bathroom as soon as all the diners are gone and he’s dealt with organizing the bills. His coworkers wish him a Merry Christmas as he leaves and he wishes them one as well, while thinking that he can’t wait to never see their faces again. Besides Felix, whenever he drops by the speakeasy.

It’s supposed to be a white Christmas and when Credence steps outside into an abysmally cold night, he glances up at the sky, covered by thick clouds. At least he can watch it snow tomorrow while reading and recovering.

“Busy night?”

Credence jumps and looks around and his mouth falls open when he sees who is leaning against the building just down the way from him. He can’t help his laugh and smile.

“You have no idea,” he says and walks to Percy.

Percy’s smiling too and he’s been home, because he’s out of a suit, though still wearing his warm and fashionable coat. He opens his arms and Credence slumps into them, resting his head on his shoulder.

“That bad, huh?” Percy asks with a chuckle as he rubs Credence’s back.

“I’m coming down with a bad case of ague on New Years Eve,” Credence mutters as he holds tightly onto Percy. “It’s so late. How was your night?”

“Not as bad as yours, sounds like. I wanted to see you,” Percy says and kisses the back of Credence’s neck. “Cracked down on an illegal potions brewery this morning but it was quiet otherwise.”

Credence wonders which one it was, as he knows of a few. He pulls back to look at Percy and smiles as he grips his coat. “That’s good,” he says. “Seeing you tonight almost makes up for work.”

“Almost?” Percy laughs. “Anything bad happen?”

“No, not like that. Though one of my tables kept snapping their fingers at me like I’m a dog. My boss told them to knock it off though,” Credence says and smiles when Percy shakes his head, lips thinned. “I think I pulled at least four muscles in my shoulders and I can only hope I have a salve at home.”

“Always good to keep a stock of muscle strain salves at home,” Percy says. “Among others. You need some help?”

Credence smiles. “My apartment isn’t exactly something I’m eager to invite you to,” he mutters. “Not after yours.”

And he really isn’t, because the place Gnarlak gave him is awful. He’d been a bit shocked when he checked on it and did what he could to make it livable and to make the furniture more comfortable, but it’s still in a bad area and he’s fairly sure there’s something living in the walls of the bedroom that is neither a rat or cockroach infestation.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Percy says with a smile. “Or we can go to mine.”

“Good luck getting me to leave after.”

“Then don’t.”

Credence smiles and looks down at the collar of Percy’s coat. “That would be spending Christmas together, you know.”

“I do know,” Percy says and moves back, taking Credence’s hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Credence laughs. “Alright. That sounds nice,” he says as they walk down the sidewalk to the alley. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever helped me put a salve on.”

Percy glances warily at him before they turn into the alley. “I suppose I’m going to have to get used to you laughing about something like that.”

“Laughing about it is better than crying about it,” Credence says with a smile. “I like taking care of myself, you know, and I doubt my injuries have ever been as bad as yours since I joined the wizarding world. But it’s nice to have someone that wants to help too.”

“It is,” Percy agrees. “I do know what you mean, I like taking care of myself as well. Better than the infirmary at MACUSA.” He smiles wryly. “Ready?”

Credence nods and they Disapparate out of the alley and appear next to Percy’s building. They walk inside and take the lift upstairs and Credence smiles when they walk down the hall to Percy’s door. It’s such a different world and it’s not so far away from his own.

Maybe he really will get that apartment when this is all over.

Credence takes his coat off and follows Percy into his bathroom. He raises his eyebrows when Percy opens a cabinet he had assumed carried toiletries but is mostly full of various salves, balms, creams, ointments and other concoctions.

“Merlin,” he says. “You have your own infirmary.”

“I really do not like the infirmary in MACUSA,” Percy says darkly as he grabs a tub and holds it up. “If I can do it myself I do.”

“So you wander home injured from battles with Dark Arts practitioners just so you don’t have to go to the infirmary?” Credence asks with amusement as he pulls off his shirt and undershirt, setting them on the counter.

“I write reports first at MACUSA detailing my injuries before I go home to take care of them,” Percy says with a smirk. “Unless they’re broken bones. Though that hasn’t happened in a while.”

Credence shakes his head. “I could never do what you do,” he says. “Not just because my education wasn’t as extensive. I can’t imagine how quick you are with a wand.”

Percy smiles. “A necessity if I want to stay alive. Which I do,” he says and gestures out to the bedroom.

Credence walks into the bedroom and sits on the bed and smiles when Percy sits behind him. When he opens the tub, it smells like chamomile with the faint sweetness of cherries. The good kind of salve, Credence thinks idly, and closes his eyes when Percy rubs some onto his shoulders, digging his thumbs in now and then.

“Feels good,” Credence says quietly.

“You going to fall asleep?” Percy asks with a low chuckle.

“I just might,” Credence sighs. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Very,” Percy says and puts more salve on his shoulder blades. He kisses Credence’s neck when he’s done and stands, walking into the bathroom to put the tub away and wash his hands.

Credence watches him with a smile and stands to get out of his trousers before slipping back into Percy’s bed, sinfully soft and comfortable, lying down on his stomach. He feels Percy’s fingers in his hair and listens to him leave the bedroom.

By the time Percy is getting into bed next to him, Credence is half asleep. Percy doesn’t seem to mind, merely kisses Credence, gently, and turns the light off. His arm around Credence’s back is warm and Credence feels safe, well taken care of, in a way he can’t remember experiencing.

Any injuries he’d earned when he lived with Holt he was told to walk them off or fix them himself, if he could, and by the time he was an adult, Credence was self-sufficient and the idea of even asking anyone for help made him uneasy.

It’s not that he’s injured often doing what he does, he really isn’t, and he doesn’t expect that to change, but he does like the idea of Percy soothing his aches earned from Armando’s for however long he’s working there.

Credence is asleep before his thoughts spiral much further than that.

——

Christmas with Percy is better than Christmas alone. Better than any Christmas Credence has had, better than reading by himself and wishing his friends didn’t drink all day, so he might be able to spend it with them.

But Percy makes him breakfast, waffles and bacon and eggs, and gives him a series of books, stacked and wrapped with a red ribbon. He’s never even heard of them and Percy tells him they’re old, written by a witch a long time ago, but that he thinks Credence will enjoy them.

He only kisses Credence when he mumbles about not having anything to give him and tells him his company is enough.

Credence’s aches and pains are long gone but he aches in a different way. Not a way Percy can soothe, not a way he himself can soothe, so he distracts himself with sex, something he’s used to distract himself many, many times.

It’s good with Percy, better than good, but the intimacy is different. The way Percy looks at him when he’s rocking into Credence, the way he kisses him, the way he makes it last, no urgency to finish, scares Credence.

His attempts to make it less intimate, less personal, later in the evening before they have dinner, don’t go the way he wants. Percy is good at unraveling him in many different ways, even with a certain distance when they fuck, and Credence knows he’s going to have to slow the frequency in which they do if he wants to come out of this unscathed.

Credence thinks he might cry when they eat dinner together, because it’s even more intimate than sex. But he stays over again all the same and Percy kisses him good night the same way he has the previous two nights they’ve spent together, and something as small as that, something developing into a routine, scares Credence too.

He’s glad to go home in the morning, Percy off to work, and sleeps for a few hours. After he’s looked through the stack of books that are on his sofa, he walks downstairs and through Gnarlak’s office, into the bar.

It won’t open for a few more hours and most people are back to work, but those that aren’t whistle suggestively at him until he gives them a rude hand gesture in return and they dissolve into laughter.

Gnarlak is sitting at one of the tables, counting and organizing a large stack of Dragots, and Credence slumps into the seat across from him.

“Mister Barebone decides to grace us with his presence,” Gnarlak says as he puffs on a cigar. “Christmas with Director Graves already, huh?”

Credence shrugs. “I am very good at what I do,” he says and smiles when Gnarlak winks.

“No one better,” he says. “You gonna start squeezing him soon?”

Credence is glad that Gnarlak is patient enough to know he can’t yet. “What I can,” he says. “Soon enough.” He bites his lip as he looks at the shining stacks of coins. “Have interested parties decided what they want done with him?”

Gnarlak shrugs as he slides a stack of ten Dragots to the other side of the table. “A day will come they’ll ask me to have you lower his guard,” he says. “Get him someplace. Ambush him. We ain’t got nobody so skilled in Legilimency to break into his mind but we’ll have enough on MACUSA by then for other, more important plans. Whether they ask for a ransom or whether they keep a hold of him for someone who might pay a bigger price to get access to his mind when we’ve finished our business… who knows?”

Credence watches him as he speaks and hums, looking down at the table. “There are some people who would be very interested in his mind,” he says slowly. “For more than a payday with the information they might be able to sell.”

“That’s right,” Gnarlak says with a wide smile. “Not anything I’m interested in. But no one knows the Dark Arts better than him. He’ll offer some answers if the right person comes along with the right amount of coin. Imagine what he must know about the Department of Mysteries. He ain’t no Unspeakable, but he’ll know things all the same, won’t he?”

“He will,” Credence agrees. He picks up a Dragot from an uncounted pile and turns it over in his fingers. “This might not take a year.”

“Movin’ quick?” Gnarlak asks and looks up at Credence. “Just because he’s head over heels doesn’t mean he’s spilling secrets anytime soon. You got the year, use it all.”

Credence sighs as he puts the Dragot back. “I just don’t want to spend another Christmas with him.”

“Well,” Gnarlak says and grins, “couldn’t have been all that bad.”

“Not all of it,” Credence says and laughs. “I’m going to catch up on the reading I missed yesterday before work.”

“How is the restaurant business, Mister Barebone?”

“If I don’t throw myself out of the window in the next few months, I’ll let you know then,” Credence says dryly as he stands.

Gnarlak snickers and flicks a Dragot at Credence. He catches it and smiles before leaving the bar and heading back upstairs to his apartment.

Credence sits on his bed, pushed into the corner of the room so he can look out of the window when he reads. It’s grey and drab outside but there’s no snowstorm to watch. He sighs and picks the first book he had started reading from the series Percy had given him.

That might have been the best part, Credence thinks idly. Legs tangled together, reading their own books, the fireplace roaring, with glasses of hot cider to enjoy. Quiet and peaceful and comfortable, most of all, and Credence thinks about Percy’s face, whenever he’d glanced over his book at him.

One day that face is going to look different. One day he’s going to know and Credence doesn’t know if he’ll be there or not, but he’s not entirely sure he’ll handle it well.

Because if he spends another Christmas with Percy, he worries he might be in love with him by then. If everything keeps going the way it has been, Credence thinks he will be in love with him before this winter is even over.

He doesn’t know how to stop that. If he pulls away, Percy will wonder why, and he can’t get any work done if he puts distance between them. There are no flaws he can focus on, not that he’s seen yet, to maybe build up resentment instead of love.

Percy’s perfect, he’s already told him that, and he’d meant it.

The idea of telling Gnarlak the truth hits him but he dismisses that as quickly as it had come. That would make Credence bendable, it would put holes in his armor, it would mean he bleeds easily, and when someone bleeds easily, they can’t be trusted to withstand what the job asks for.

It’s a mess, Credence thinks, but he’s gotten himself out of messes more times than he can count. He’ll figure out a way to protect himself.

He has to.

Notes:

Credence: I totally got this

Credence, .5 seconds later: I totally don't got this

I told my friend I never thought I'd write a character with Ron Perlman's voice in mind but here we are. I know this is different but I hope you enjoy it all the same.