Apparently, Grindelwald had spent the entirety of his stint at MACUSA adamantly avoiding paperwork. When one considered the persistence of various MACUSA bureaucrats whose primary job was to harass aurors to get their paperwork done, the sheer amount of unsigned and unsorted reports was a tribute to work place avoidance tactics.
Graves would even go so far as to say that he was impressed at what had to have been a very difficult execution of said tactics, were it not for the fact that he, Graves, was the one having to read, sign, and sort the damn things. If Graves didn't already hate Grindelwald for kidnapping him and stuffing him in a battered trunk for several months*, he definitely would have developed a deep dislike based solely on the towers of reports leaning precariously over him. Emphasis on towers.
Normally, Graves went through paper work quickly; the sheer volume of work before him would, under normal circumstances, take a few weeks. However, for the past few weeks he'd found himself distracted and struggling to make it through even a handful of reports. At the rate he was currently going, Graves was likely to spend the next two months reading reports.
He'd just picked up what seemed to be the fiftieth report on magic reveal via drunken escapades of teenagers when a loud crash echoed down the hall. Ah, yes. That would be the cause of his distraction.
Newt was visiting Tina again.
The omega had taken to visiting his new American friend at work frequently, be it to chat or to show her something that didn't belong in the MACUSA offices, much less America. Normally, Graves would bring the wrath of God upon any auror stupid enough to entertain a friend in the work place. But Newt, with his big eyes and curly red hair -- that is, Newt, who was responsible for unveiling Grindelwald, was an exception. That was it. For reasons of heroic services rendered to MACUSA, Graves allowed Newt to visit Tina without comment; it had nothing to do with the fact that having Newt on the aurors' floor meant that Graves had easy access to Newt's company, if he so desired.
Which he didn't. Desire Newt's company, that is.
Even sitting all the way down the hall with his office door closed, Graves could still smell Newt’s omegan scent— along with the man’s ever present smell of wild, likely dangerous, beasts. He could hear Newt babbling in excitement, though he couldn't make out what Newt was saying. Every so often, the sound of Newt’s laughter drifted from Tina's desk (typically preceded by a crash or bang; Graves suspected it was an abashed sort of laugh caused by reasons that, at this point, should long since have resulted in Newt’s arrest).
It was driving him mad. Newt was driving him mad.
Focus. He was Seraphina’s right hand man, the most powerful and skilled auror in the MACUSA, and a world weary alpha who was most definitely not controlled by his instincts. Particularly instincts telling him to mate with the walking hazard that was Newt Scamander. Graves was more than capable of reading a report without pining over the omega visiting with his subordinate next door.
“… an eye witness reported that the suspects charmed the undergarments of a no-maj department store to sing and chase passersby—“
Another crash, followed by a loud cry of "Newt!"-- presumably from Tina.
“He really didn’t mean anything by it! Horatio's just a bit bashful around people." Newt's voice rang down the hall, raised from its normal soft pitch to be heard over what sounded like an intense scuffle between the two wizards and Horatio. Several Horatios, at that. Whatever it was that Newt had decided to take under his wing this week was clearly well-endowed in the leg department.
Only Newt would think it was a good idea not only to cart around a magical creature with more than the standard amount of limbs but to name said creature 'Horatio'. He could picture the younger man smiling at some godawful beast, likely poisonous, while telling it something inane like, "You look like a Horatio!" Newt's eyes would crinkle around the edges and he'd get a little teary--
Graves tossed his quill to the side. Clearly he wasn’t going to get any work done so long as Newt was down the hall. With an irritated sigh, Graves pushed out of his chair, waving his wand to call his jacket over to him as he walked out of his office.
He needed air. Some fresh, cool air that didn’t smell like Newt Scamander, who was rapidly becoming a testament to Graves’ impressive self-control.
Graves pushed his way through the hall, making a beeline towards the elevator. Several witches and wizards saw him coming and ducked quickly out of his way. Anyone who had lasted at MACUSA long enough to be on the aurors' floor had developed a sense for when Graves was in A Mood.
“Lobby,” Graves said as soon as he stepped into the elevator.
The goblin inside looked at him. “That omega back again?” it asked.
There was a brief moment of silence during which Graves kept his eyes trained ahead of him, scowling. The goblin gave him a knowing look and pulled the lever in a smug, vaguely superior way.
When the elevator stopped, Graves did his utmost to leave the cart as quickly as possible while doing his best to look as if he was not trying to leave as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t do for the Director of Magical Security to do something as undignified as flee from the judgmental elevator goblin. The new aurors might get ideas.
No. Graves had an image to maintain and underlings to keep cowed.
Still, Graves couldn’t say that he was doing all that great with his image. He was one run-in away from attempting some asinine courting practice to woo Newt. Merlin knew what would happen if Graves did something that ridiculous. Seraphina would never let him forget it, Tina would start to feel a bit too comfortable sharing her thoughts with him, and Newt…
Graves paused. People dove around him, trying desperately not to run into the frozen director.*** Graves, caught up in his thoughts, didn't even notice.
Newt… what if Newt accepted?
Newt, with his big eyes and shy smile.
Newt, with his flowery sweet smell spiced with the smell of various magical beasts.
Graves shook his head. No, no— no Newt. No more thoughts of Newt. Graves' mind was a fortress, utterly under his control and susceptible to nothing. Especially not to Newt Scamander.
Newt, bringing a magical creature to his office instead of Tina’s, excited and babbling.
Newt, covered in dirt and who knew what else, hugging him when he came home from work.
Newt, carrying their pup—
Graves cursed and pushed his way through the doors. With a sharp flick of his wand, he aparated to the nearest market place. He had a few things he needed to buy and a friend to write. An omega would know how to kickstart a courtship, even if it was a courtship of Newt, who was likely to defy convention just by being in the same room as it.
It would seem that Perceval Graves was going to attempt an asinine courting practice, after all.
*- It was a pink trunk. With dollies on top.**
**- Graves suspected this was intentional on Grindelwald's part.
***- Rumor had it that the last person to do so was placed on janitorial duty for several months. Wandless janitorial duty. Other rumors suggested that the person was only rumored to be on janitorial duty; in fact, anyone who knew anything knew that the person had been disposed of so well that the consequent rumors had to be about something with more support to it. Such was workplace gossip.