Tony sipped his second mug of coffee, seated at the bar counter with one leg crossed lazily over the other. Across from him, Percival Graves leaned stiffly against the marble island, arms folded, wand now tucked away—but tension still thick in his shoulders.
And sitting far too comfortably on a stool nearby was none other than Gellert Grindelwald, draped like a lounging cat in white silk and charm-oozing arrogance.
Tony raised his cup again. "You don't blink much, do you?" he asked, addressing Percival, who hadn't taken his eyes off Grindelwald in ten whole minutes.
"I don't trust snakes," Percival replied curtly.
"I'm more of a dragon," Grindelwald chimed in, swirling the last of his wine before glancing sidelong at Tony. "Speaking of—what do you think I should wear next to grab your attention, hm? Red velvet? Maybe something... sleeveless?"
Tony didn't miss a beat. "You could wear a bucket over your head and still somehow smirk with your eyebrows. It's a talent."
Grindelwald placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Sassy and quick-witted. You must get that from my side."
Tony muttered into his cup, "Unfortunately."
Percival rolled his eyes but said nothing—though his glare intensified.
Grindelwald's gaze flicked briefly to Percival, eyes narrowing with amusement, before he turned back to Tony with a softer expression. "Tony, may I have a hug?"
Tony looked up mid-sip. "What? No."
"You hugged me earlier."
"That was a charity hug," Tony said, waving his hand. "You were being dramatic, and I felt bad."
Grindelwald chuckled. "You didn't feel that bad."
Tony frowned. "Look, I don't like being touched. I barely let people shake my hand. I only allowed it because—ugh—you're technically family."
Grindelwald didn't argue. Instead, his voice dropped slightly, genuine this time. "Then I will never touch you again without permission."
A beat. "But I do need a hug. Just… this once?"
Tony sighed and set his mug down. "Fine. One hug. You get one."
He stood, moved forward, and with the reluctance of someone petting a particularly smug cat, wrapped his arms loosely around Grindelwald.
Grindelwald, however, melted into the embrace like it meant the world to him. He leaned in with alarming familiarity and nuzzled his face against Tony's neck.
Tony's entire spine stiffened. "Hey—hey—what are you doing?! Is this how wizards hug?!"
Grindelwald hummed. "You smell like coffee and genius."
Tony flailed slightly. "Stop narrating my scent!"
Then, a sharp shatter.
The two flinched and looked toward the counter—where Percival stood with a broken glass in hand, fingers curled so tightly they were turning white.
His eyes were burning holes through Grindelwald.
Tony blinked. "Uh… did you drop that?"
Percival didn't answer. His jaw flexed tightly, eyes still fixed on the sight of Tony and Gellert standing far too close.
Startled by the intensity, Tony gently pushed Grindelwald away and took a few steps back. "Okay, whoa, what's going on? Percival?"
Grindelwald smirked—triumph buried beneath cool civility.
"Oh dear," he said, brushing a speck of imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Did I upset someone? My apologies. I forget how… possessive certain people can be."
Percival didn't say anything. But his eyes spoke volumes.
Tony looked between the two and frowned. "Is this some old wizard grudge thing?"
Grindelwald's smile returned, but now it held something deeper. Amusement. Awareness. A glint of pride.
He thought to himself, Ah… the descendant of my old enemy. And yet, here he is—glaring like I just stole his favorite relic. Or something far more precious.
He turned to Tony, voice low and laced with something almost reverent. "I told you, Tony. We share blood. And I take care of what's mine."
He looked toward the windows, eyes glinting with sudden promise.
"Let the world watch. They'll see what I protect—and what I destroy."
Oh lord, he's so fucking dramatic!
Tony rubbed his temples. "Okay, I need three more coffees and someone to explain why wizards are more dramatic than Broadway actors."
Grindelwald raised his wine glass in salute.
Percival didn't smile.
And somewhere in between that tension, Tony realized he was caught in the middle of something personal.
Tony excused himself with a dramatic sigh, grabbing his phone. "You two play nice. I'm ordering food before one of you hexes the other into a toad. Anyone want shawarma?"
Silence.
Tony waved a hand. "Great. I'll get three, in case one of you ends up unconscious and needs a snack when you wake up."
As soon as he vanished down the hallway, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted.
———
The tension that had lingered quietly between Percival Graves and Gellert Grindelwald now thickened like smoke. The silence was no longer casual—it was sharp, poised, ready to cut.
Percival straightened from the counter, his posture like a drawn blade. His wand wasn't out, but his eyes were harder than obsidian.
"Let's get one thing clear," he said, voice low and stern. "Don't do anything suspicious around Tony. No manipulation. No mind games. No magic. You so much as blink the wrong way, and I'll stop you."
Grindelwald, lounging in his stool like a devil draped in silk, arched a slow brow. His pale fingers swirled the remnants of his wine lazily as he replied, "My, my. Possessive, aren't we?"
"This isn't a game," Percival snapped.
Grindelwald's eyes glinted. "On the contrary. Everything's a game if you play it well."
He set the wine glass down, stood, and stepped closer—not with menace, but with the slow, calculated grace of a predator testing the waters.
"Tony is not a child. He's a grown man. A genius. He can make his own choices," Gellert said, voice calm but edged with something deeper. "And he's blood. I wasn't joking when I said I protect what's mine."
That made Percival's composure finally crack.
"He's not yours!" he barked, eyes flaring with something dangerously close to anger—or jealousy.
Grindelwald blinked, then smiled, slow and deliberate. "Oh?" he drawled, tilting his head. "He's yours, then?"
"I—what—no, that's not—"
"Oh, Percival," Grindelwald chuckled, closing the distance even more. "So easy to rattle. Do you realize how loud your silence is when he's in the room? You watch him like he'll disappear." It's kinda funny, this descendant of Pervical Graves, He almost resembles that man.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Percival said through gritted teeth.
"But I do," Gellert whispered, now barely a breath away. "And let me tell you something, kiddo… If Tony weren't family, I would've suggested a threesome. It would've been glorious—you with your brooding intensity, me with my charm, and him... caught in the middle."
He punctuated the thought by lifting a hand and gently tapping Percival's chin with two fingers—casual, teasing, and absolutely intentional.
Percival stood frozen, caught between offense, shock, and the urge to summon a dozen hexes at once.
Grindelwald grinned wide and crackled with laughter, stepping back. "Ah, your face! That reaction alone was worth centuries of imprisonment."
Yes, that is definitely something he would do if the original Pervical Grave were to be here, He was a funny man.
Percival coughed, utterly mortified, color rushing to his face. "You—you're unbelievable!"
"I try."
Just then, Tony reentered the room holding a tray of coffee cups and a tablet. He blinked at the strange scene before him.
Grindelwald was practically glowing with smugness, leaning against the counter like a man who had just won the lottery. Percival, on the other hand, looked like someone had poured boiling water down his collar. His eyes darted away from Tony's gaze, trying to regain composure.
Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Okay, what did I miss?"
"Nothing," Percival blurted a little too fast.
"Everything," Grindelwald said at the same time, flashing Tony a wink.
Tony squinted between the two. "You know what? I don't want to know."
He handed out the coffee cups and muttered, "Next time I leave you alone together, I'm setting up a surveillance drone."
Grindelwald raised his cup in salute. "Please do. I love being watched."
Tony gave him a long, blank stare before muttering under his breath, "I regret finding out I was related to you."
But Grindelwald didn't seem offended. If anything, he looked proud—like a mischievous uncle already planning the next family dinner disaster.
And somewhere deep in his mind, Grindelwald made a mental note If Percival Graves wanted Tony… he'd have to prove he could protect him better than family ever could.