goldsteins | hesitating won't make things happen

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hesitating won't make things happen

Tina remained few happy things about the later years of her childhood. The times before her parents had died were held precious and were her greatest, happiest memories. Few other memories could contend with the short time she'd had with her family. She'd stopped thinking about what she wanted the day they had died and lived, in short, to make things the best she could for herself and her sister (but of course, even in their adult lives they still had very little money).

She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.

The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.

Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.

Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.

Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.

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Tina looked amused despite the way she colored herself. She made quick work of transfiguring the clothing, but it seemed it wasn't quick enough. She'd be more bothered than she was if it wasn't Newt--and she trusted him.

"You can say that," She answered drily, shifting next to him. The fluttering sensation in her chest lingered, truly alight by the situation-- But now that she was waking and clothed Tina's nose wrinkled in thought.

"What's on the plans for today, then?" She questioned, eyes turned once more up at the man.

When he turns to look back at her, his face entirely red, still, to the point where his freckles stand out even more, he finds that she's transfigured her clothes expertly into an outfit more suited to her figure. He doesn't miss the look of amusement on her face, either, and he smiles sheepishly at her in turn.

"Well, I was going to go hiking on the mountain," he says. "See if I can't find something exciting or other to chase. I don't suppose you'd care to come with me?"

The woman brushed her hand through her hair, dark eyes remaining trained on Newt. A dazed sensation still lasted, the lasting surprise of the morning. Her brow raised in response. A hike, was it? She'd never been much for the outdoors, even in her Ilvermorny days. Exploring had seemed nice, but not practical and she had other worries.

"Are you sure it won't be something chasing us?" Tina answered decidedly in jest, though she had to wonder how many times that did in fact happen to Newt.

“I can’t promise it won’t be,” Newt tells her honestly, shrugging. The pair of them running for their lives seems to be a frequent occurrence, both in Darrow and back in New York. If he’s honest, he can’t say he minds that much when he has Tina running by his side.

He grins, having the grace to look a tad sheepish.

“It’s almost spring,” he says. “When everything is just starting to recover from winter. It’s one of my favorite times of year.”

She rolled her eyes for the non-verbal cue of of course. She may have been a thunderbird, but the more adventurous pat of herself she had locked up when she was a child. There were other, greater adventures.

"And your other favorite time of year?" She inquired quickly, "I've never been much of an outdoor person, but it couldn't hurt to see new things."

Right on cue, it seems, Tina rolls her eyes. Well, he can’t blame her for that; truly, it’s a miracle she wants to accompany him anywhere at all, given the danger he unintentionally courts every time he decides to make a venture of his day. He bites back a smile at the sight, already one of his favorite things about Tina.

“I like all times of year, really, but I am especially fond of summer,” he says. “I like the warmth, and the length of days.”

He considers her a moment before asking a question of his own. “And what about you? What is your favorite time of year?”

Tina cocked her head watching the man before her. Newt's idea of living was new to her-- Time in the world, visiting uncharted people and uncharted creatures. It sounded as strange as it did wonderful, but she wasn't entirely certain of her own feelings on it.

"Summer is nice," She answered, agreeably, pausing when he returned the question. It's not one she thought of too much. "Fall, I suppose. There was always a lot of holidays when we were kids. It felt warmer then, sometimes."

Edited 2018-03-25 11:56 (UTC)

He smiles at her answer. Somehow, Tina Goldstein finding the fall as her favorite season makes perfect sense to him, at least, from what he knows and understands of the woman beside him. He can picture, suddenly, her and Queenie, playing together in the leaves on the grounds of Illvermorny on cold, New England fall days. The image warms his heart; that warmth seeps through into his smile.

"Fall is the season for holidays," he notes. "Were you found of Halloween, by any chance?"

It's wonderful, he thinks, getting to know Tina like this. Perhaps these are details people don't care about but Newt does. He finds he wants to find out about how this beautiful, intelligent, and capable woman feels about just about everything in the world. And, never one to be able to suppress his emotions, the yearning shows clearly in his face.

Tina's never cared much to talk about herself. She was a private person and there was always better, more interesting things for them to learn about. The only one who needed to know her was Queenie, and she never had to tell Queenie anything-- Not really. To have someone ask anything about her is odd, but she wasn't dense either. For any relationship to work you had to learn about each other.

She couldn't help how her brow rose immediately at his question followed by a short nod. "We didn't celebrate Halloween until Ilvermorny," She answered, "frankly our school years were always a bit odd." Given that the holidays that were celebrated were Christain based in America their holidays were put to the side.

"Halloween's all right, but nothing special to the other holidays," She amended, "in our tradition fall is the beginning of the year. There's a whole month of holidays filled with good food and hopes for a new year. Yom Kippur was difficult as a child... but it was fun finding round foods to eat and seeing what sukkahs were made in New York."

The woman fidgeted before she shrugged her shoulders. "These days we just eat special foods and do something for the high holidays, though, so a lot of the charm has worn off."

"Oh?" Newt asks, curious. Then he remembers: of course they must have been odd, what with Tina and Queenie living at school most of the year before returning to the orphanage. That must have given them a severe sense of whiplash, or so Newt would imagine.

He listens as she explains her traditions and what she loves about the holidays in the fall. In a way, he thinks, it makes much more sense for the beginning of the year to be in fall instead of the dead of winter; fall still has some life left in it, after all.

"It sounds like you and Queenie managed," he smiles. "Does Queenie like Yom Kippur as much as you do?" There's no judgment in his tone; only gentle curiosity.

"Would you consider celebrating again here in Darrow?"

Tina didn't quite look at him while she spoke. She'd never been one to speak about herself and especially not about such private matters. Usually going "oh, I don't necessarily celebrate that," cause for a certain amount of awkwardness than the inquisitive questions Newt gave her.

Newt's question forced a laugh out of her while she shook her head. "I don't think most people like Yom Kippur," She answered, "it's not a happy holiday, necessarily. Though we both enjoyed Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot. Yom Kippur has a different kind of magic to it, though it's more solemn."

But he wasn't asking about what the holidays meant so she doesn't want to get into it. Instead she tilted her head when he continued and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't celebrate Chanukah since it just happened at home," She considered, frowning, "and Purim just passed. I'm named after that one, you know..."

She shook her head, still uncertain before adding, "I suppose it depends, but it's not the same by myself." And she was more culturally Jewish than she felt religiously, so it wasn't as if it had some religious impact on her. But growing up in the 20s in a city that (at the time) was half Jewish-- well, Darrow was more than a little odd feeling for a number of reasons.

"Oh, my apologies," Newt says with a bow of his head. "I didn't realize."

He listens as she explains the various holidays she celebrates, smiling as she describes her favorites. His interest peaks, however, when she mentions being named after one of the holidays.

"Purim?" He asks. "You're named after Purim?"

"I imagine not," he observes with a quiet smile. "It must be so hard without Queenie."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Tina admitted with a shrug. She had already learned that the man before her didn't know that much about her traditions. It was different when you lived in a large population of it, but she doubted England had such a thing for Newt.

Her eyes filled with mirth when he asked before she gave a short nod of her head. "My middle name, anyway," She answered after a moment, "Purim is the celebration of the book of Esther. She was an orphan turned queen who managed to prevent a man from performing a massacre. It's a very emboldening story for young girls when you think about it." And was why so many dressed up as Esther, to begin with.

She frowned in response; Always Queenie, they always came back to her. She bit down into her lower lip before shaking her head resolutely. "It's getting easier," She breathed out quietly before she glanced up at him earnestly "with you." And it was. Coloring despite herself, the woman's shoulders rose and fell once more before she tucked a strand of air away once more-- Eyes never quite settling on any one thing.

"Yes, quite," Newt nods. His smile brightens as Tina explains her name. "I like Esther. It suits you, very much I think. You share her bravery and determination." Perhaps others might find it an odd, old-fashioned name but to Newt, given what Tina's just told him about the name, and the fact that is part of Tina herself, he adores it very much.

Newt blushes again beneath her earnest gaze, thoroughly pleased but also still struggling to accept that anyone could consider him so.

Biting down on his lip briefly, he reaches over to take Tina's hands, squeezing them gently. "It's so much easier with you here with me," he tells her, his voice not quite a whisper. "I'm so glad you're here, Tina."

She colored at Newt's kind words while she gave a shake of her head. Tina had cared very little about herself-- her name was stuffy and old and she wasn't all that great. But it's pointless in that moment to argue with Newt about it-- Nevermind that it would be silly to.

"Well," She considered, casting him a brow, "you told me your name, it was only fair I told you mine. Rather or not I agree if any of it suits me."

Tina was surprised when it was Newt reaching for her-- though she really shouldn't be. Her heart thumped against her chest uncomfortable when she glanced up to smile at him in turn. "I wouldn't say I'm glad anyone is here," She mumbled, not unkindly, "but I am selfishly happy that you are." It's a quiet admission; She rarely wanted or did much for herself, but she was finding herself content with Newt there. She bit down on her lip once more before exhaling.

"Did I ever tell you my middle names, though?" He asks, curious. "Because it seems only fair that I should, now that I know yours."

He watches as she speaks, and from the way his chest tightens and his breath catches in his throat, he thinks he could listen to and watch Tina speak forever. His own heart thumps awkwardly fast in his chest, like someone behind in a race trying desperately to catch up.

"Well, if that makes us selfish, than I am very selfishly glad to have you here with me," he tells her, leaning in close to press a kiss to her lips, gentle and quiet as seems to suit the pair of them.

"You did," She supplied with a wry grin, "in our recent re-introduction." Darrow had seen fit to return her mentally at eleven for the duration, but though it felt like a hazy dream there was quite a bit she remembered from the experience.

It was selfish, truly, taking any delight from him being here. He should be in England publishing his book. Instead he'd been there for longer than herself, it's not a thought she likes to think about and it's one he quickly wipes away all the same.

Tina sucked in a breath in minute surprise. Newt seemed to like kissing. Not that she minded, she was finding she was quite enjoying it after the first mishap. Responding in kind beforee she beared a grin, dark eyes amused. "Well, then," She agreed quietly.

"...Oh, yes," Newt remembers now, flushing at the memory. The corners of his lips twitch up, both embarrassed and amused all at once. "Right. I do recall telling you I have the middle name of a dog."

Newt lacks any shame for delighting in Tina's presence here with him. If he can't be back home, publishing his book and continuing his studies, he's glad, at least, to be stuck in the same place as Tina once again.

"Indeed," he agrees when they part. It feels terribly improper, kissing Tina in his bed. And he finds he likes it all the more for that.

"You did," She agreed mildly, the hint of a laugh in her voice, "and I still believe mine's the more terrible naming convention. At least you chose the nickname of an animal. And, well, you're you." He called himself Newt-- besides an animal name made sense for him. No one wanted to be named after a porcupine.

Propriety was the least of her worries. Though she did concede they should probably move eventually. She smiled at the man before sighing and going after the locket that had been resting with her wand. "You probably need to get to feeding your creatures," She offered hastily.

"Newt also sounds better than 'Newton,'" he points out, smiling himself. "My brother got the elegant name of the family. Theseus." He shakes his head. The theme of one of his middle names, Artemis, and his brother's first name isn't lost on him, nor the irony of those aforementioned names.

"I do," he admits, reluctant though he is to see her move. A thought strikes him, then. "Would you like to come help me feed them?"

"Only if you want to sound like a lizard," She disagreed lightly with a shake of her head, "but either way it hardly matters, does it?" It was her way of saying she disagreed, but she wasn't going to put the focus on it any longer.

She nodded while she placed the necklace around her neck. An anticipated answer, but it's not followed up by an anticipated question. Tina glanced at him, before offering a smile. "I'd like that."

"I suppose I do want to sound like a lizard, all things considered," Newt says with a smile that's only a tad rueful. Mostly knowingly smug, though.

He lights up when she accepts, utterly pleased.

"Excellent," he says, beaming. "I'm sure they'll all be happy to see you. The Occamy still remembers you, you know." Though whether that's due to the Occamy's memory or the fact that Newt speaks to his creatures about Tina all the time is anyone's guess.

"All things considered," She agreed lightly with a roll of her eyes. The woman shook her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before offering him another smile.

She rose a brow, partly amused at his statement. "Why is it I'm not too sure about that," Tina answered after a moment, the laugh in her voice. The few times she'd been in the case she doubted she left an actual impact on any of the creatures. How could she have? It was the man before her she did, and that was something she was beginning to admit to herself.

"Well, you have little reason to trust me, after all," Newt teases, smiling at her as he does so. "Given that I've dragged you across the length of New York, gotten you arrested and nearly executed, among other things."

"But," he continues, still teasing, "you should still trust me anyway."

He takes a moment to lean over and tuck a stray piece of hair behind Tina's ear, smiling gently at her. "They'll be happy to see you, I promise."

"If I recall correctly," Tina quipped, bow rising in amusement, "those were all things I caused. And if I recall correctly you lied to me about a number of things during that time." His wand permit, the billywigs, the puffeskin...

And, yet, despite the fact he'd no reason to help her Newt had followed her silent plea. Really, if one of them shouldn't trust the other it should be him. She'd been nothing but trouble.

She smiled tentatively at him her breath catching. "If that's what you say," the woman answered amicably, "but I've never been good with animals, magical or no."

"Then I'll just have to teach you," Newt tells her, smiling. "That is, if you would like." He doesn't want to presume what Tina might want; he's presumed enough of other women in the past, and it didn't end well for him.

It's an incredible thing to consider, really. How Tina Goldstein ended up in his bed. And now they're off to tend to his creatures together. The warmth exuding from such a moment catches in his heart like the flame of a candle, illuminating some part of himself he forgot even existed: the part of him hoping to make moments like this part of his life someday.

"The Mooncalves are the easiest," he explains. "They're gentle and will be happy to devour whatever you put in front of them."

It's startling to realize that this isn't uncomfortable. Awkward at first, yes, but there's a sense of home that can't be extinguished around Newt. The same sense that followed since they'd met, really. For as different as they were, they were in as many ways similar. It was easy to be around Newt and she found she didn't mind-- any of it.

Which is part of the reason her brow shoots up when he goes from I will teach you to if you would like. It felt more hesitant than the earlier discussions of his creatures. Her teeth caught on her lower lip and she listened as he continued before deciding.

"Newt," She started, brows pinching as she pressed a hand to his shoulder when she came closer, "I thought I made my opinions clear a while ago." Did she, she wondered? She'd tried anyway, but expressing herself never came easily and with Newt things were always...

...They were always a piece of work so she breathed out and tried again. "Of course I want to learn about them. All of them," She said deliberately, "but I also want to learn about you. Why else do you think I'd agree to something as crazy as joining you in looking for creatures?" She tries for a bit of humor there, having not forgotten she agreed to join him on a hike through the woods after feeding his creatures. Were it anyone else she never would have agreed.

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hesitating won't make things happen

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