***SPOILERS FOR FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM***You have been warned.

Ever since I watched the movie, I've always wanted to do a cute little oneshot between Newt and Pickett. It's bittersweet, and I do hope you like it.

Enjoy!

A Mutual Understanding

Newt Scamander stared at the chandelier which hung directly above him. He lay on the sofa in the cozy living room of Tina and Queenie Goldstein's apartment, one arm rested on his forehead above his eyes to block out the warm light from piercing his already tired eyes. His other hand was crossed over his chest over his heart. Just below the fabric of his cloak there was a barely noticeable lump, the chest pocket in which he carried Pickett the Bowtruckle in.

The man sighed, blinking his moist eyes as he continued to fix his gaze at the ceiling. His mind was restless, occupied, and he thoughts were all on the one fantastic beast that was admittedly his favorite. He had many creatures in his suitcase that he cared for, but this one was different. Pickett had been his friend for years. He was one of the first few magical creatures he'd studied, and slowly, his friendship with the green little stick-like insect grew. Newt knew that Pickett had attachment issues, and that was the reason why he'd carried Pickett around in his pocket ever since.

The Bowtruckle had attachment issues. After what he'd done earlier in the bargain with Gnarlak the goblin, Newt could understand exactly how Pickett was holding a grudge against him.

Sure, Newt had always intended to get Pickett back even as he passed his friend to that greedy goblin. Not once did he think of letting the goblin take him away. But from the point of view of the Bowtruckle, it certainly seemed as if Newt was really going to let him go.

Fidgeting a little to shift his body into the curve of the sofa, Newt slowly let out a long breath. He closed his eyes, shutting himself out of the present, and allowing memories of past events consume him.

He was back at The Blind Pig; a magical speakeasy, somewhat like a Muggle pub, except the folks here were not the usual customers you see in a regular one. Gnarlak was sitting directly opposite him on a long roughly carved wooden table. Tina sat to his right, and both of them were looking at the Goblin, wondering how much it would take before Gnarlak agreed to share some much needed information with them.

Money, magical eggs… even some of the items newt treasured had been offered. Yet Gnarlak was not satisfied. He had refused, saying those items were not something which he valued enough. Newt had presented literally every item he possessed in his cloak, but apparently they were not good enough.

At wits end, and out of ideas, he leant forward, pushing the magical, unhatched egg closer to the Goblin, hoping against all hopes that Gnarlak would change his mind. Maybe, just maybe, if he tempted the Goblin a little more…

Gnarlak sat up straighter all of a sudden. A glint filled his eyes as he stared at something on Newt. Feeling slightly self-conscious at having Gnarlaks full attention focused at him, Newt dropped his gaze to the egg. But he Goblin's sudden interest as a favorable sign, and tried to maintain the eye contact with the Goblin, while nudging the magical egg closer.

"Wait a minute," Gnarlak said, leaning forwards towards Newt, "that's a Bow- That's a Bowtruckle, right?"

Newt could feel his heart freeze in that instant. A chilly tingle crept down his arms as he hesitated. His mind made the connection and he understood, at that moment, why Gnarlak had taken an abrupt interest in his cloak.

Unconsciously, Newt's hand went to his chest pocket – the one which contained Pickett – and felt the little creature poke its head out.

It was too late. Gnarlak had seen Pickett. It's greedy little eyes were locked upon the green creature.

Hastily shielding Pickett with his hand and attempting to stuff his friend out of sight, Newt could not bring his eyes to look at the Goblin.

"No," said Newt too quickly, and the Goblin's suspicions were confirmed.

"Oh, come on. They pick locks, right?" asked the Goblin, undeterred.

Staring defiantly back at Gnarlak with hardened eyes, Newt stated clearly, "You're not having him."

Gnarlak narrowed his eyes in displeasure, and Newt could tell he was not happy with the response he was given.

"Well, good luck getting out alive, Mr Scamander…what with the whole of M.A.C.U.S.A. on your back."

The goblin picked up his glass and stood up, signaling he was done negotiating with them.

Newt's heart sank. The goblin was their only hope of locating the remaining creatures that had escaped his suitcase. If he couldn't find them back…no, he had to.

But that would mean…

A lump formed in his throat as he knew what he had to do. And Newt swore, he swore with all his heart, that he'd get Pickett back, no matter what. He wasn't really going to give his friend away.

Newt could hear his voice shaking, "Alright."

Gnarlak had already taken a couple of steps away from their table, but he heard Newt's words. The Goblin stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Newt, who seemed to have drained all his energy just to say that one word.

His movements were slow, and his fingers were not as steady as he would have liked. Newt fumbled with his cloak pocket, reaching in the fabric to fish out the Bowtruckle, who had suddenly sunk down to the bottom of his pocket.

Gripping Pickett's spindly little body, he tugged it gently out. Pickett must have somehow understood what was about to happen, because he clung even more tightly than ever before to the lining of the pocket.

"Pickett," said Newt in barely a whisper.

The struggling Bowtruckle had lost its grip on the fabric and was now grappling helplessly at Newt's hand, which held him firmly. The strong claws Bowtruckles were known for were useless. The two friends stared at each other for a long time and perhaps many non-verbal words passed between them.

But that moment was brought to an end as Gnarlak grabbed Pickett in his grubby hands.

With his eyes locked on the curious little creature, Gnarlak let out a hoarse, "Aww".

True to his word, Gnarlak told them bits and pieces of where Newt's other escaped creatures had gone. Even as Newt listened carefully, he could not help but hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes, and wiped them away before Tina, or anyone could see.

Newt had managed to get Pickett back, just as he'd promised himself. The chaos which ensued seconds after in the speakeasy made it much easier for Newt to rescue Pickett from the goblin's clutches. Unfortunately, that did not put their situated back to normal so quickly. Pickett had been rather quiet in his cloak pocket for some time. They'd managed to wrestle the remaining creatures back into his suitcase, and were now coaxing them into their respective nests.

Not being able to bear the silence from Pickett, he pulled the Bowtruckle out of his pocket. The tiny creature gave him a small scowl as he was tugged out into the open.

"Well, I think we need to talk," Newt said, walking away from the rest of his friends who'd followed him to round up the loose creatures, "I wouldn't have let him keep you, Pickett."

He looked directly at the miniscule green eyes, almost begging Pickett to believe what he was saying.

"Look, I'd rather chop of my hand than to get rid of you, not after everything you've done for me," he said, watching Pickett standing at the back of his hand, "Now, come on –"

Pickett purposely turned his head away, showing Newt his back.

Snorting at Pickett's antiques, Newt continued, "I think we've talked about sulking before, haven't we, Pickett?"

The Bowtruckle twisted around to face him.

"Come on, give me a smile," Newt pleaded, "Picket, give me a smile. Give me a –"

Pickett stuck out his lower lip in a pout, "Pffffftttttttt."

Newt raised an eyebrow. He supposed he wasn't going to be forgiven so easily after what he'd done.

"Alright, now that had been easy." He mumbled out of sarcasm, before placing Pickett back safety into his pocket.

A movement from under the folds of his cloak brought Newt sluggishly back to the present. He could feel Pickett squirming a little beneath his fingers.

It made him sigh again. He wished Pickett could understand his intentions. He wished Pickett could understand how he felt. And most of all, he hoped all this had not ruined their friendship and ended it just like that. It meant too much to him.

Newt felt a small weight on his fingers. He could have easily brushed off the feeling for a strand of hair, but after spending so many years with the companion in his pocket, he knew better. Eyes closed, Newt could almost visualize Pickett's tiny green fingers wrapped around his index finger, as though trying to reach out to him… to reassure him.

And he smiled. His worries washed away; his heart light and whole once again. His troubling thoughts immediately fled, and Newt was whisked away into a land of peaceful dreams.

So...how did you find it? After all, it is the first time I've written this genre. I usually stick to fast paced plots, but I wanted to try something different. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated :) Thank you!