Feb. 5th, 2013

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 3624
Tags: Sexual Content

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make any money from this.


  “Ok. Here is my spare set of keys.” Monroe went through the use of each key for the third time. “I put the lights on a timer. Stop in once or twice and just check on things.” He sighed and furrowed his brow. “I think that’s about it.”

                “I’ve got it, Monroe. Your house will be fine. Just go and have a good time at your clock party.”

                “It’s a clock convention, Nick.”

                “Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

                He walked out with a huff. I followed him out, shutting and locking the door behind me. I shooed him into the car and tossed his bag in the trunk for him. I waved as he drove down the street standing there until I couldn’t see his taillights anymore.

                I went home, kicked off my boots, and poured myself a drink. I plopped into the recliner looked around at the empty space, the bare walls. Juliette had taken a lot of our stuff when she left. In all fairness, most of it was hers or she picked it out. There were personal touches here and there – mostly souvenirs from day trips of antiquing with Monroe. He even picked out a nice mantel clock for me. I’d been in a rut after the break up but I bounced back quickly. Monroe had been determined to make me feel better and he succeeded. He may not always seem like it, but he’s a great friend to lean on.


“Burkhardt, I need you to go downtown and have another chat with our witness. I think she knows a lot more than she’s letting on.”

“Yes, Captain.”


                “Mr. Johnson, I need you to put down the gun. You don’t need to do this.”

                I had my gun aimed for the shot; so did he. Jennifer Smith – our key witness and an eisbiber I’d met through Bud – was standing next to me. She was the next target. A skalengeck – Eric Johnson – was killing all the wesen who were low on the food chain. He’d said that it was his duty to rid the wesen world of “low life scum.”

                He pulled the trigger and I pulled mine. In a matter of seconds he was down, taking his last breath. I holstered my gun and dropped to my knees. I pulled off my jacket and pressed it to the wound on Jennifer’s chest. I pressed as hard as I could, but she just kept bleeding.

                “Come on, Jen, stay with me. Help is coming.” I could hear the ambulance sirens.

She locked eyes with me and her lips curled into a small smile. “Thank…you…” She closed her eyes and one last breath slipped out.

“No, no, no! Come on. No!”

The paramedics had to pry me from her; I couldn’t let go. She was one of the sweetest people I had ever met. She always “forgot” to charge me for my doughnut at the bakery. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Had I gotten there a minute sooner…


I stood in the locker room shower, scrubbing the blood off my skin. No matter how hard I scrubbed I could still feel it – it was guilt more than blood. I should have saved her. Maybe if I was more of a grimm than a cop, I could have.



                “Yes, Captain?”

                “Why don’t you take a few days off – clear your head.”

                “But, sir…”

“I’ll see you Monday, Nick.”


                I sat in my car, outside my house. I looked at it – big and dark. That wasn’t what I wanted, or needed, right now. I put the car back into drive and made my way over to the one place that had brought me a great deal of comfort over the last few months. I pulled up in front of Monroe’s house, in my usual spot, and walked up to the door. Then I remembered that he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow night. I had already made sure things were in order, so there wasn’t much to be done. I sighed and went inside anyway. I kicked off my boots and poked around. I helped myself to a beer and walked around aimlessly.

                Monroe had a lot of stuff in his house: clocks and trinkets and personal items. I made a mental note to ask him about some of the stuff when he got back. I browsed his book shelf – a lot of classics. Then his dvd collection – again, a lot of classics. It was weird – the comfort that Monroe’s house brought me, even when it was empty. He had a record player, so I turned on some music. He had mostly classical, which I actually kind of liked – though I wouldn’t admit it to him.

                I got a chill so I grabbed the blanket that laid over the back of the sofa and wrapped it around myself. I laid down on the sofa and curled up. There was no way that I was going to sleep alone in my big empty house tonight. The sounds of the cello record lulled me to sleep.

                I woke up, but not where I fell asleep. I was in the guest room instead of on the sofa. I rolled over and stretched, looking around. There were sounds of movement coming from down the hall so I got up to explore. Monroe was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, cracking eggs into a frying pan. I stood back for a minute just watching him. He must’ve known I was there; he stopped what he was doing and turned around.


                “Hey.” I walked into the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

                “Yeah, we cut it short – a bunch of people didn’t show up.”


                “You sleep here all week?”

                I shook my head. “Just last night.”

                He nodded and flipped around the contents of the frying pan. He poured two mugs of coffee and sat them on the table. Soon he was setting plates on the table and flipping an omelet onto each one. He sat down across from me and sipped his coffee.

                “You want to talk?”

                “You remember Jen? She’s Bud’s friend.”

                “The one that always gives you a free doughnut, yeah.”

                “She was involved in a case. A skalengeck was killing wesen he deemed “unwothy.” I was too late. He shot her. I tried to save her. I tried so hard...but I couldn’t save her.”

                “Nick, you can’t save everyone.” There was a softness in Monroe’s voice I’d never heard before.

                “I know.”

                We finished breakfast in silence. I did more of pushing food around my plate than actually eating. He disappeared for a minute and returned with some clothes. He handed them to me and shooed me off down the hall. I showered, letting the warm water soothe the aches and pains that had surfaced overnight. I got out and dried off. His towels smelled like him; it was comforting. I sat on the edge up the tub, wrapped up in the towel. A knock on the door pulled me out of the thoughts.

                “You ok in there?”

                “Yeah. Fine.”

                I tugged on the clothes Monroe gave me – jeans and boxers I’d forgotten I left here and one of his shirts. The shirt was a little big, but it felt good, like I was wrapped in a never ending Monroe hug. I stepped out of the bathroom and almost ran into the attic steps. Monroe had one of those attics with the pull-down stairs that hide above the hallway ceiling.

                “Come on.” He tugged on my shirt, pulling me up a step.

                I followed him up into the attic and back a few feet. We sat down next to an unmarked cardboard box. He took a deep breath before unfolding the flaps of the box. I watched him, hands shuffling through the contents, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. He pulled out a few photographs, a pressed flower, a copy of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe, and a lilac-colored sweater. The photos were of a couple – early twenties. The guy looked a lot like Monroe.

                “Her name was Erica.” He holds the sweater, stroking it with his thumb. “She was the love of my life. I had every intention of proposing to her.” He paused for a while before continuing. “She worked at the corner store to help pay for school. I would go and pick her up every night and drive her home. One night I was running late – Hap and I were running through the park doing our usual stupid shit. I got there and some guy was at the counter; he was giving her a hard time. Next thing I know, he’s pointing a gun at her. I don’t remember much after that. I know I ran inside, tackled him. He shot her before I could get to him. She died that night in the hospital.”

                “What happened to the guy?”

                “He was found guilty, sent to jail. I knew some people back then…one morning the guards found him in his cell, ripped apart.”

                “I’m sorry.”

                “So am I.”

                We sat up in the attic for a while, in silence. I thought about Juliette and how glad I was that she just left. I don’t know what I would have done if she would have died at the hands of a wesen. Losing a friend is one thing, but losing Juliette probably would’ve killed me.

It was early afternoon when we finally came down. We sat around for a while, watching dull daytime television, before deciding to go out. We went down town and mulled around a few antique shops and a used book shop. We stopped in a coffee shop for lunch before driving even further out of Portland. Neither of us had any kind of destination in mind, we just drove. Before I knew it, it was six o’clock and we were just outside Seattle – I hadn’t even remembered crossing over into Washington. I did doze off for a little while. We stopped in a few more shops before heading into a diner for dinner.

“Would I sound crazy if I said I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“Do you ever feel stuck?”

“Only every day.”

“Sometimes it’s hard trying to balance cop life and grimm life. I keep thinking that maybe if I was more of a grimm I could have saved Jen. Ya know?”

“Yeah. I think it’s admirable, though – you being more of a cop. You’re a good guy, Nick, everyone sees it.”

“Before she died…she thanked me.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

And that was that. We didn’t ever talked about Jen, or Erica, again. After dinner we started back for Portland, arriving at Monroe’s house sometime after ten. I didn’t bother going home, just crashed in his guest room. In the morning I did finally go home. I made a few calls – one of which was to a realtor. I decided to put my house on the market – I needed to move on, let go.


The house sold in mid-October. I bought an apartment that was a five minute walk from Monroe’s house and a ten minute drive to work. The things I had filled the small space well, giving it a cozier feel than that big house ever had – even before Juliette left. Monroe, of course, helped me fill any empty space with antiques and books and even a few clocks.

Things got better; it got easier balancing both of my lives. Monroe was obviously a wealth of support. As time went on, Monroe and I became even better friends. He became a lot more willing to tag along to hunt wesen with me. He got me to start eating a little more veggie-friendly. He even played his cello for me – after a lot of begging, that is.


                We were sitting on the sofa watching The Shawshank Redemption and demolishing a veggie-lovers pizza and a six-pack of Guinness. Maybe it was the beer getting to me, but I could have sworn that we kept getting closer to each other. By the time Tim Robbin’s character was crawling out of the sewer pipe, our shoulders were touching. I could feel my heart starting to race. When I turned my head to look at him, he did the same. Our faces were close, maybe a few inches apart at most. There was a part of me that wanted to close the gap, but the other part wanted to run away. I did the latter. I grabbed the plates and ran into the kitchen, immediately regretting my decision.

                Monroe and I had been spending a lot of time together, and I really enjoyed it. I was starting to think that maybe some feelings had surfaced. I just kept finding myself wanting to spend more and more time with him, wanting to go out to dinner with him, wanting to take him antiquing. I wanted him.

                When I went back into the living room, I sat on the other end of the sofa, keeping my distance. The movie was still playing, but I more or less just stared the screen rather than actually watching. I leaned over, laying my head on the arm of the sofa, and pulled my feet up on the sofa. I curled up, arms folded across my chest, and stayed like that until the credits started to roll.

                “Hey, uh, I’m gonna go. Got a gig pretty early tomorrow. I’ll text you or something.” Monroe got up and headed towards the door.

                “Oh, ok. Yeah, text me.” I was barely up to see him out when he was shutting the door.

                As I watched the door shut, my heart whined. I wanted to reach out for him, grab him, pull him close, and never let go. I turned off the television and the lights and wandered to my bedroom. I dug through my drawers until I found that shirt of Monroe’s that I was still borrowing. Well, actually I was keeping it. I was pretty sure he had forgotten I had it. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but that was ok. I stripped down to my boxers and pulled on his shirt. It still felt good, like a big, perpetual Monroe hug. I crawled into bed, curled up, and started counting sheep. I wondered, for a moment, about the possibility that I might sleep better if I had someone to share this too-big bed with. The last sheep I remember was 28 (which is Monroe’s birthday).


                I stood at Monroe’s door, a six-pack of Guinness in one hand, and a bag of veggie-friendly Thai food in the other. I was attempting to knock when the door opened and Monroe greeted me with a smile – which was nicer than his usual snark. He grabbed the bag of food and walked into the kitchen. I ditched my boots and coat at the door before following him. We ate in the living room, so we could watch the Star Warsmarathon that was on – we were both pretty big nerds. Somehow we ended up shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa again, but this time I wasn’t going to run away. Being so close to Monroe made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I know that it’s totally cliché, but it’s the truth.

                The credits began rolling and Monroe stood up. He went to step away, but I grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at me, brow furrowed.

                “Monroe, can we talk?”

                His expression softened and he sat back down. “About…?”



                “Yeah. It’s just that…” I paused; I hadn’t really thought about how this conversation was going to go. “I want there to be an ‘us.’”

                “Um…ok…” His face was all scrunched up.

                I sighed; he obviously wasn’t getting the point. I leaned in and pressed our lips together. It was weird and his beard was kind of itchy, but it was nice. He kissed back, somewhat. I pulled away, already knowing my cheeks had turned crimson.


                “Oh no. You don’t feel the same. Shit! I’ve ruined everything. Oh god, I am so sorry Monroe. I’m just…I’m gonna go.” I got up, practically jumping off the sofa, but I was pulled back.

                Monroe had grabbed my sleeve – just as I’d done to him – and pulled me back, practically in his lap. One hand reached up, cupping my jaw, and gently pulled my face back to his. Our lips met again and I could feel him smile into the kiss. He kept one hand on my jaw and the other he wrapped around my waist, pulling me as close as I could get. I could feel my body relax; I breathed a sigh of relief.

My hands fumbled with his shirt, trying to undo all the buttons of his flannel. It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time his flannel was thrown to the side. The rest of our clothes were shed much faster and soon it was all skin on skin.


He nodded and we quickly made our way down the hall, falling into bed, bodies never parting. Our lips met again, hungry and passionate. Our tongues danced – a battle for control that I quickly lost. This aggressive Monroe was a turn on. He knew all the right buttons to push and knew exactly what I wanted and needed. He nipped at my skin, paying special attention to my neck and collar bones. It felt so good; I knew all coherent thought was about to leave me. His skin was tacky with sweat as I ran my hands over all the skin I could reach. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer.

Our bodies moved together, every thrust driving me crazy. I moaned his name and I heard him growl. Fuck. I could feel my body tremble. More, more, more. Our eyes met, he stared down at me; a ring of red around blown pupils. Monroe nuzzled the crook of my neck, his beard tickling in the best way. His teeth – all of a sudden much sharper – grazed my skin. I fisted my hands in the sheets and tried to bite back my moans. Then I felt it – he bit me. His teeth sunk into the delicate skin of the crook of my neck. He was marking me, claiming me. It actually made my heart flutter.

He ran his hands over my chest, stomach; one hand wrapped around my cock. Fuck! Oh fuck! My hands moved from the sheets to Monroe, grabbing at him, just wanting to touch, to feel. With every thrust I was getting closer and closer. I heard a growl rumble in his chest and when Monroe howled I let go. I cried out his name; orgasm hitting me like a freight train. I clung to him, never wanting to let go. We laid in bed, panting, tangled up in each other. I stole one last kiss before laying my head on his chest and letting myself drift off into sleep.


                I woke up with Monroe’s arms wrapped around me, which is a pretty great way to wake up. I lifted my head just enough to see the time; it was only six thirty. Soft snored slipped past Monroe’s lips; he looked so peaceful when he was trying to sleep. For a while I just watched him, his chest rising and falling. I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to waking up like this every morning. I laid my head back on his chest and let myself fall back asleep.

When I woke again, I was alone in bed. The smell of pancakes quickly hit me and I followed it out of the room and down the hall. I grabbed my boxers from the living room, slipped them on, then walked into the kitchen. Monroe was standing over the stove, clad only in pajama pants.

                I leaned against the counter. “Morning.”

                “Morning.” He smiled and flipped a few pancakes on a plate and handed it to me.

                I sat down at the table, slathered some butter and syrup on my pancakes, and did my best to avoid the awkward morning-after conversation. I knew it was coming and to be honest, I was petrified. It might actually break my heart if he wanted us to be some kind of one-time thing. He hadn’t said anything after I told him I wanted there to be an us, just kissed me.

                “We should talk about last night.” I couldn’t read him like I usually could – it made me nervous.

                “Yeah, I-I um…” Of course I was at a loss for words.

                “I never really gave you a reply after you told me how you felt.” He paused, sipping his coffee – no doubt stalling. “I really like you, Nick, more than I ever thought I would…or could…”


                “No buts. I like you and I want to be with you. I should’ve told you last night but I just got so caught up in the moment.”

                I smiled and knew a blush was taking over my cheeks. “So…”

                He let out a small chuckle. “So…”

                “Does that make us boyfriends or something?”

                “Or something…”


                He just laughed.

                “Let’s go out tonight, Monroe. Just you and me. Maybe dinner and a movie.”

                He nodded. “Or…we could stay in. I could cook you a delicious meal, open a nice bottle wine, we could watch a good movie – something better than those ho-hum blockbusters the cinema’s showing this week – and uh…maybe recreate part of last night.” He smirked.

                “Yeah, I think your idea sounds much better.” 

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 2182
Tags: Alcohol use

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make money from this.


“Dude, it’s like four thirty in the morning. You better have a damn good reason for being here.”

“Umm…you’re my friend and I wanted to see you…”

As I went to shut the door, Nick threw out his hand, catching the door before it closed. He pushed back and forced his way in.

I growled. “You really don’t have any respect for personal boundaries, do you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“What do you want, man? You know, normal people are sleeping right now.”

“Good thing you’re so weird.”

I growled again, but ultimately chose to ignore the remark – it was too early for this.

“Can’t a guy just drop by to see his friend?” He took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Sure, when it’s not such an unholy hour.”

He started to pout.

I sighed. “You want a beer? Coffee? Three-course meal?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

I put on the coffee and sat down at the table across from him. When I got a better look at Nick, I realized that something was plaguing him – it was written all over his face. For a second I debated whether or not I should ask. I should – Nick was my best friend – but I didn’t want to – it was three in the freaking morning. I didn’t have to decide because Nick just started rambling.

“She left. She just left. I got home and all her stuff was missing. At first I thought we’d been robbed…but there was a letter on the bed. She said she didn’t want to marry me; I’m already married to my job. She was tired of the lies and the secrets. She even thought I was fucking around. What did I do? I should have just told her.” Nick’s voice was pained.

“She wouldn’t have understood, you know that, and even if you would have told her, she probably would’ve thought you were crazy and left anyway. Didn’t your aunt tell you to break things off? I doubt she said that out of ill-will.”

Nick just nodded.

“Listen, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time when you when you got here. I should try to, uh, be more…pleasant. I am here for you, though. Relationships aren’t really my forte, but I’m pretty good at listening.” I got up and fixed us both a cup of coffee. I sat back down and slid one of the mugs across the table. “I have some Kahlua you can add if you want.”

Nick smiled. “Nah, I’m ok.”

We sat there, drinking our coffee, idle chatter filling the room. I made Nick an omelet and toast – insisting he eat before work. I even offered dinner if he wanted to come back over later; his favorite, too: homemade pizza with peppers and onions. Nick agreed, thanking me in advance.

I shut the door behind him as he descended the porch steps. I watched his taillights fade down the street before pulling out the Pilates machine. I stopped for a minute and a thought crossed my mind: Am I getting used to this grimm in my life? I sighed and started my normal routine – though, there really wasn’t anything normal about it anymore. But I had accepted that a while ago; I actually, maybe, sort of, kinda liked having Nick around.


            He came through the door around 6, reeking of dried blood and skalengeck. I looked him up and down when he walked into the living room. There was a low growl rumbling deep in my chest. I jumped up from the sofa and started poking at him, making sure he wasn’t too broken.

            “Monroe, I’m fine.” He pushed my hands away.

            “You’re covered in dirt and dried blood. You reek of skalengeck. You’re favoring your right leg, and your clothes are torn. You are notfine.” I sighed. “Go take a shower; you still have extra clothes in the guest room. I’ll get you all patched up. I just bought more gauze and a new jar of that really good salve. Dinner will be done shortly.” I shooed him off up the stairs.


            “Hey, Monroe, can you come here?” I heard him call down the stairs.

            I walked upstairs and into the bathroom. He was standing there, bare from the waist up. I winced seeing his pale skin covered in different shades of blue and purple. There were a few really nasty cuts running down the back of his shoulder. I got the jar of salved from the closet and started smoothing some over the cuts. I felt him shiver under my touch; I tried to be gentler. I massaged some into his shoulders and heard him sigh.


            “Yeah.” He nodded.

            “Dinner should, uh, be just about ready.” I walked back down stairs just in time to hear the stove timer go off. I pulled out the pizza and set it on the table – which was already set with plates. I could hear Nick walk in the room behind me. “There’s beer in the fridge.”

            “Ooh, Guinness!”

            We sat down at the table and it wasn’t long before we demolished the pizza. He helped with dishes, just as he always did when he ate here. He told me about the skalengeck he’d been chasing earlier. It was under the influence of some kind of drugs but they caught him. He was definitely really starting the get the hang of the whole grimm thing. I was actually kind of proud.

            We plopped on the sofa and I flipped through channels looking for something good to watch. I stopped when Raiders of the Lost Arkcame on – I knew it was one of his favorites. I really liked it, too. I’d studied history in college hoping to be a cool history professor like Indiana Jones – obviously that didn’t pan out. By the time it was over, there was a mess of empty bottles sitting on the coffee table. Nick had moved a lot closer and was leaning against my side.

            “Dude…” I poked his arm.


            “My arm’s asleep.”

            He got up and turned to face me, our faces only a few inches apart. His hands were on my thigh; he was leaning on his arms. He just kept staring at me. One of his hands slid up my leg. I was all nerves; I couldn’t move. He bit his bottom lip as his hand moved to my dick.

            “Nick…” He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head. “We can’t. You and Juliette just broke up and you’re drunk.”

            He was persistent. He wiggled closer, not quite in my lap. He pressed a soft kiss to my jaw and nuzzled my beard. I could feel my breath getting shaky. I tried to push him off, but he just kept grabbing at me.

            “Monroe, please…”

“Nick, come on. Not now.” I pushed him off me.

“But I want you…so bad.” That husky voice went right to my pants.

“Not like this. You're drunk and...I just…” I growled. “...I can’t.” The wolf was yelling at me: how dare you turn him down! Right now he was easy and, sure, that was what the wolf wanted, but I couldn’t let it happen like this.

“M-Monroe...” He tried to pull me close.

“No, Nick!” I pushed him away and got up from the couch.

“Why? What would be so bad?” Nick was starting to sound desperate. His voice was becoming more like a whine. I didn't like seeing him like this.

“Because you'll be slammed up against the wall or bent over the counter or...pressed face-first down on my bed. It won't be sweet. It won't be gentle. It will be a MESS…and I could hurt you.”

Nick was silent.

“And that's not what I want.” I was practically pleading with him. If it was anyone else we would already be done, sweaty and panting. But this was Nick. It should be special and perfect. It hurt telling him no, pushing him away, when all I wanted to do was pull him close, make love to him. I’d wanted him for so long, and now I had my chance…but I couldn’t take it.

“You don't want to fuck me?” There was so much bite in those six words.

“That's not what I said. You know that.” There was another growl rumbling in my chest. “Of course I want you...just not like this: drunk, hurt, desperate.” I took a deep breath.

The look on Nick’s face was a mix of anger, desperation, bitterness, hurt, and maybe a little disgust.
            “I want to woo you, date you. I want to take you out and show you off. I want to go out to eat and make you try vegan food. I want to surprise you with fancy homemade dinners and great wine. I want to snuggle on the couch and watch movies with you. I want a relationship with you. I don’t want some one-time thing. I want to send you cute 'good morning' texts and bring you a homemade lunch at work. Nick, the way I feel about you...I've never felt like this about anyone.”

Nick just sat there nodding. I wasn't entirely convinced that he was listening to me. I sighed.

“Ok.” He finally said. He struggled to get up, gripping the sofa for dear life.

I scooped him up, carried him down the hall, and put him in the guest bed. “You can sleep here.” I left him there, lying in bed, staring up at me with those wide grey eyes. I walked down the hall and locked myself in my room. I flopped on the bed, not even bothering to get undressed. I sighed into the pillow.

Why did I have to be a good guy?

I tossed and turned all night and didn’t leave my room until it was time for Pilates. He was still in the guest room, passed out, when I walked down the hall. I managed to get in an extra hour of Pilates; I felt better. I poured a glass of water, gathered a couple aspirin, and set it on the nightstand for whenever Nick woke up.

            I took a long, hot shower. The water soothed my tense muscles. I got out, dried myself off, and threw on some clean clothes. I heard Nick groan from the guest room – must be up. I walked down the hall and leaned against the door frame.

            “How are you feeling?”

            “Terrible.” He was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. “Oh god, Monroe.” He flopped over, hiding his head in a pillow. “I am so sorry. You must hate me.”

            I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. “I could never hate you, Nick.”

            He picked his head up and gave me a sad kind of smile.

            “Shit, I should be flattered. Nick Burkhardt wanted to get all up on this.”

            He shook his head then flopped back into the pillow.

            “Don’t worry – I won’t hold your drunken shenanigans against you.”

            I heard him sigh.


            “Here’s the thing.” He sat up and looked at me. “Last night wasn’t some drunken shenanigan. Monroe, I do want you… a lot. Unfortunately it took a little inebriation to get me to act on it.”

            “Oh.” I nodded, collecting my thoughts. “I meant what I said last night, too.”

            He smiled and it went right to my chest. He had a smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms. We sat there in silence for a bit before I finally stood back up.

            “The shower’s free. There’re fresh towels. Uh, if you want I can whip you up something for breakfast – something to get rid of that hangover.”

            “Sounds good.”

            I went downstairs and into the kitchen to fix him some breakfast. I set the frying pan on the stove and cracked a couple eggs. I chopped up some peppers and onions to toss in, along with a diced tomato, and a few finely-chopped pieces of burdock root. I let it cook for a bit before folding it into an omelet to finish cooking. I put on the kettle and got two mugs ready for tea. I heard the shower turn off and lowered the heat on the stove. I warmed myself some oatmeal and sliced a banana on top. Nick walked in just as I poured hot water in the mugs.

            He plopped down at the table and I slide the omelet in front of him along with one of the mugs. He smiled and thanked me. I sat down across from him with my bowl of oatmeal and my own mug.

            “Oatmeal? I get an omelet and you’re eating mush?”

            “Excuse me, but I like oatmeal.”

            “So, uh, about last night…” He shoved a bite in his mouth, no doubt trying to make me finish his sentence.


            “You want to maybe go out sometime?” A blush worked its way across his cheeks and I stifled a laugh.

            “Yeah, I’d like that.”

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1638

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make money from this.


Monroe likes going to clock conventions. They’re a way for him to get out, be social, while still keeping the wolf tucked away. Well, he used to like conventions, when there was nothing at home to miss.

            The motel room is small, dingy, familiar. He stays in the same room at the same motel every time he’s in Seattle. The place is wesen friendly, as the owner is a fuchsbau. The walls are still the same dull blue, carpet still a dirty grey color. He’s pretty sure it may have once been white. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he slept on these exact sheets last time. Oh well, he thinks, it’s cheap and only for a few days.

            He sits alone in bed, watching the news on a tiny television set that might be as old as he is. He’s wearing a worn pair of pajama bottoms and his favorite sweatshirt. His phone vibrates and he grabs it from the nightstand; his lips curl into a smile when he reads Nick’s name on the screen.

Text: when r u coming home?

Text: Friday.

Text: oh

Text: Why? Grimm trouble?

Text: no

Text: You miss me, don’t you?

Text: yea

Text: *eye roll*

Text: no really
Text: I miss you

Text: Miss having someone to make you dinner.

Text: miss my best bud!

Monroe’s lips curl into an involuntary smile. He frequently catches himself smiling because of Nick in one way or another. He’s not really sure why. Nick drinks his beer and eats his food. He makes stupid jokes and drags him into dangerous situations. Nick is a cop and a Grimm and far too clingy. Why on Earth should Monroe miss him? Because maybe Monroe kind of likes Nick. A lot.

Text: Miss you, too, man!

Text: u dont mean that

Text: Yes, I do.
Text: It’s weird not having a beer with you before dinner.
Text: Ya know, my grandfather is rolling in his grave right now – the thought of me liking spending time with a Grimm!

Monroe waits for a smart-ass reply from Nick, but never gets one. He sighs and scrolls through his phone, reading all his old texts; he always saves ones from Nick. The texts go all the way back to when Nick had the case with the ziegevolk. He closes out of the messages and pulls up the keypad, dialing the number for the cab company. He cancels Friday’s cab and reserves one for Thursday morning instead. He finally gets a “good night” text from Nick and he replies with a simple “good night” back. He sets his phone back on the nightstand, pulls the covers up, and lets himself drift to sleep, lips still curled in a smile.


Nick has an especially long day at work; all of his leads turn into dead ends. The captain gives him the rest of the day off, along with tomorrow; he’s more than aware of how much Nick needs a little time off.

Normally, when Nick has a rough day and needs to clear his head, he goes over to Monroe’s house and they share a beer or two. Lately, he and Monroe have been playing a lot of card games. Nick’s not really sure why, but it helps. Monroe helps.

He’s pulling up in front of the empty house before he even remembers that Monroe is at that convention in Seattle. He shrugs and decides to just stay; he’s already there, so why not? He lets himself in with his key and sheds his boots and coat by the door before heading into the kitchen for a beer.

He finds himself aimlessly wandering around the house. He notices all the little trinkets sitting around, sharing space with countless clocks. He wonders how he’s missed them all the other times he’s been here. His fingers move over the spines of the books on Monroe’s shelves.

He starts to sway back and forth, matching the ticking of the clocks; he finds it soothing. He plops down on the sofa and notices one of Monroe’s flannels lying over the back of the sofa. For some reason he pulls it on over his t-shirt. He smiles; it’s like a perpetual Monroe hug. It smells just like Monroe and that comforts Nick even more. Nick’s never actually hugged him, but he’d really like to. He wants to wrap his arms around Monroe’s waist, wants to rest his head on Monroe’s shoulder.

He sighs, wrapping his arms around himself. Usually he and Monroe would be sharing a few beers and talking about what to eat for dinner – leftovers or take out. Nick remembers the leftover Chinese foods in the fridge and goes to help himself. Eating alone on the sofa is weird. He should be picking off Monroe’s plate – trading some veggie lo mein for an egg roll. Nick didn’t realize how integral Monroe has become to his life. He washes his dishes, dries them, and sets them back in the cabinet. He finds himself poking around the fridge again.

After another beer he’s wandering upstairs. He pokes his head into Monroe’s room; it’s remarkably tidy. Nick walks in and looks around, taking in every little detail. He sits on the edge of the bed, bouncing a few times. Wow, he thinks, soft. He sits there for a bit, not really doing much of anything. He wiggles, shuffling his body up the bed, and lays down. Really comfy, he thinks. His eyes fall shut and he wonders what sleeping next to Monroe would be like. Probably warm, cozy. He’s a cuddler, definitely the big spoon.

Eventually, Nick finds himself drifting asleep. He knows he should get up, go home, sleep in his own bed. But he can’t move, doesn’t want to; he needs the comfort of Monroe. He didn’t realize he’d miss his best friend so much; he doesn’t know what to do without Monroe. It was only Wednesday night and Monroe wouldn’t be back until late Friday afternoon. It’s going to be a long two days.


            Monroe’s up and ready by six o’clock and sitting in the diner across the street eating a doughnut by six-thirty. By seven he’s sitting in the back of a cab, on his way home. He spends part of the ride sleeping and part of it reading. He’s finishing the last page of his novel as the cab turns down his street. Monroe checks his watch; it’s ten-fifteen. He’s a little surprised to see Nick’s car parked out front. Surprised, but happy.

            Walking inside, he expects to see Nick on the sofa or in the kitchen, but both are empty. He sets his bags down, kicks off his shoes, and follows his nose. As he climbs the stairs, he realizes Nick’s scent is coming from his bedroom. Weird. He actually starts to fear for the worst, his brain splitting into a million different directions. He’s relieved when he sees Nick sleeping, his chest rising and falling.

Nick wakes up at about the same time Monroe crosses the threshold into the room. Their eyes lock in an awkward stare. Nick doesn’t move; he’s frozen. Monroe opens his mouth, as if to speak, but says nothing. After a few too many seconds of painful awkwardness, Monroe breaks the silence.

            “You’re…you’re in my bed. And that’s…you’re wearing my flannel.”

            Nick just nods and pulls the covers up to his nose, hiding much like a child would.

            “Umm…why?” Monroe’s voice is soft. There’s no anger, just overwhelming curiosity.

            Nick shrugs, letting go of the blanket. “I missed you.”

            “Oh.” Monroe’s not really sure what to think.

            “I’m sorry. It must smell like me everywhere. I’ll go.”

            As Nick goes to push off the covers, Monroe steps towards him. “No.” He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Nick. “I like when everything smells like you.” His voice is almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would wake him up and this would all be a dream.

            “Really?” Nick sits up and leans towards Monroe.

            He nods, fighting the urge to crawl into bed, curling his body around Nick, and snuggling him for the rest of the day.

Nick smiles, but then scrunches up his face. “I thought you weren’t coming to home until Friday.”

“I missed you.”

            Nick practically throws himself at Monroe, wrapping his arms around him, and pulling him in an almost-too-tight hug. They lay there, haphazardly, on the bed for a while, snuggled close. Nick nuzzles Monroe’s beard, finally noticing how Monroe smells like the woods – pine and rain – with just a hint of cinnamon. Nick already knows what he smells like: leather, gunpowder, and coffee, with a hint of aloe vera. Monroe had told him once, a few months ago.

            “I missed you.” Nick’s voice is soft. He plays with the hem of Monroe’s shirt. “I didn’t really know what to do without you.”

            “Can I ask you something?”

            Nick nods. “Of course.”

            “Why’d you come over?”

            “I had a rough day at work. I wanted to see you. You’re the first one I go to when I have a bad day. I forgot you were away; didn’t remember until I was already pulling up.”

            “So you stayed?”

            “Yeah.” It comes out as almost a whisper.

            “I’m glad you did.” Monroe dips his head down, kissing Nick’s neck. He runs a light hand over Nick’s flannelled chest. “It looks good on you.”

            Nick chews on his bottom lip, looking up at Monroe with puppy-dog eyes. His voice is low, “you know you’re not getting it back, right?”

            “I better not.” Monroe’s lips finally meet Nick’s and he smiles into their kiss. They kiss until they’re out of breath. Their cheeks are flushed, lips are swollen, and they’re breathing just a little heavier.

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)

Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Nick/Renard
Words: 1705
Tags: PWP, Sexual Content, Gift Fic

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make money from this.


Nick's sitting at his desk, filling out reports, when Wu comes up to him and steals one of his pretzels. Nick looks up, one brow raised. "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one leaving your food out. Oh, and the Captain wants to see you." And off Wu goes, pretzel in hand.

Nick finishes his sentence, gets up, and makes his way into Renard's office. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

"Ah, yes. Sit down." Renard sets his own reports to the side and waits for his detective to sit down. "Hank's worried about you and so am I."

Nick furrows his brow. "I'm okay, really."

"Juliette's moving out, I hear."

Nick just nods.

"I'm sorry." Renard's voice is genuine and filled with concern; Nick hadn't ever heard him speak like that.

"Thanks, Captain. But really, I'm fine."

"Alright then."

Nick nods and exits the Captain's office, returning to his desk and his report. He breaths a sigh of relief when he finishes it, knowing he can finally leave. He hadn't noticed it before, all the sad looks he's still getting from people. I'm fine, he tells himself.

Nick didn't really care much for the house, especially now that it was mostly empty. Juliette had been the one to pick it out, and fill it with furniture and little personal touches. It's not that Nick didn't have a say, he just preferred to make her happy. But none of that really matters now.

He's had to buy a new sofa -- well, one from the thrift store -- and a new television -- it was the floor model, marked down fifty percent. He's started putting out some of his old things, stuff that had found a home in the basement when he and Juliette moved in together. There's new photos on the mantle: one of him with Hank and Wu, another of him and Monroe, even one of him and Rosalee. He had school photos of Holly and Roddy hung up, too. 

Nick eats leftover lasagna that Monroe sent over, because honestly, Nick can't really cook. He washes his dishes when he's done, grabs another beer, and plops down on the sofa. He turns on a Redskins game and finally relaxes. 

There's a knock on the door that makes him jump. He thinks it might be Monroe, but he's got a key. Same with Hank. Carefully, he peaks out the window, checking to see who exactly is at his door. Hmm. He opens the door with a small, surprised smile on his face.

"Uh, hi."

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He steps aside and lets his visitor in. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what brings you over here, Captain?"

"You can call me Sean, we're not at work."

"Oh, right, sorry. Sean." The name seems foreign in his mouth. He never called his Captain by his first name. Even during the occasional masturbatory fantasy, Nick still cried out Captain.

"Looks like you've made this place your own." He looks around. It's not the fancy home he goes home to, but it's a hell of a lot cozier. He looks around a bit more, scanning the books his detective has on the shelf. "Got a lot of classics there." He gestures to the books.

"Oh, yeah. Monroe's suggested a lot of them."

"You two are...close?"

"Yes. No. Well, yeah...but not like that."

"I see."

"Do you want to, uh, sit down?" He gestures towards the sofa, stepping back. His heart jumps when he steps back right into the wall. He's glad Renard's eyes are focused on his cukoo clock -- courtesy of Monroe -- instead of on him.

"Not particularly." He steps closer to Nick, a mere two or so feet distancing them. He steps again. And again. He's starting to invade Nick's personal space, not that he really minds. Renard reaches up, places his hands against the wall on either side of Nick's shoulders. 


Nick's stuttering, his being caught off guard, causes a sudden flood of heat to course through Renard's body. He leans forward, capturing Nick's lips in a hungry kiss. When the shock wears off -- quickly -- Nick kisses back, the muscles in his lower stomach tensing. He's not really sure what to do with his hands; he wasn't used to being in this position. He runs them over Renards chest and fists them in his expensively-tailored suit.

They finally break to catch their breath. "Do you wanna see the rest of the house?" Nick pants out.

"Just your bedroom."

They're quick to tackle the stairs, taking them two at a time. They leaves pieces of clothing with every step, until they're both naked, falling into the bed. Nick's not used to being pinned down on the bed, but oh fuck he likes it. His hips buck up, trying to get some friction, some pleasure. Renard pushes him down, pinning his shoulders. He was in charge.

Nick leans up for another kiss, but is quickly denied; he whines. Sean's lips find Nick's neck, moving over his delicate, pasty skin. Kissing and nipping his neck, his jaw, his collar bones, until he has his detective writhing, begging for more.

Renard gets off on power, Nick's already realized this. With the little bit of coherent thought he has left, he comes up with a little plan. He decides to push Sean's buttons. See what really gets him off. 

Nick bucks his hips up again, earning himself just a small bit of friction. But that's not really what he's looking for. Renard forces him back down; inside, Nick's grinning. He pushes up against his Captain again, earning him another shove.

Renard slips one of his legs between Nick's, his thigh gently rubbing Nick's cock. Nick can hardly think, but he manages to wrap a leg around Sean, who allows it. He traces Nick's collar bones with his tongue, eliciting a deep moan from him.

Nick becomes interested in seeing what Sean will let him do with his hands. He runs his hands over his Captain's chest, feeling the refined muscles that are usually covered by a well-fitted dress shirt. Renard allows it. Nick moves his hands over the other mans arms, up and down his forearms, gently squeezing his biceps. Renard allows it.

Nick gets a little frisky. His hands stroll down Renard's body, lingering at his toned stomach, then moving further down his body. Sean removes his hands from Nick's shoulders, grabs his hands, and pins them above his head. Not allowed, Nick takes note.

Nick just lays his head back, eyes closed, and lets Renard do whatever he pleases. Sean sucks little red marks into Nick's skin, all over his neck and chest; he was a bit curious to see how Nick would hide them tomorrow at work. Maybe if he behaves I'll give him the day off, he thinks. Nick just goes with it, doing his best not to let his hips buck up. 

After a while, Renard lets go of Nick's hands. Sean's own hands explore his detective's body. Nick moans and grabs for the other man, hands settling on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his collar bones just slightly. Renard lets a little moan slip; Nick's heart skips.

Renard's had enough of the foreplay. He captures Nick's lips, kissing him hard and fast. Nick's hands slide down to the Captain's hips in attempt to pull him closer. Surprisingly, he allows it.

"I want to fuck you," Renard growls.

Nick can barely think. He tries to speak, but his words catch in his throat. He just nods, pulling Renard closer, bucking his hips up. Renard grabs Nick's thighs, and the latter wraps his legs around his Captain. Sean snakes a hand between them, giving Nick's cock a teasing tug, then moving right along to tease his ass. 

Nick's body is writhing and wriggling. He hated -- but oh how he loved -- to be teased. Briefly he's aware of the coldness on his body; Renard's moved away. But in no time he's back on Nick. Sean doubts the other man will care that he poked through his night stand in search of some lubricant. 

He presses one finger into Nick, who's breath catches. Renard likes the feel of Nick's body trembling beneath his own. He likes knowing he caused that tremble, likes knowing he can do a lot more. When Nick catches his breath, Sean goes for two fingers. Nick moans, long and loud, and his nails dig into the Captain's shoulders. Sean can only imagine what'll happen with he adds a third finger. 

Three fingers cause Nick to cry out. At first, Renard is actually a bit concerned, that maybe his lover's in pain. But then Nick starts moving, starts pushing himself towards Sean, trying to get him deeper. Renard grins. When he feels that Nick's stretched enough, he carefully removes his fingers -- making Nick whine -- and lubes up his hard -- and not to mention a bit neglected -- cock. 

Renard pushes himself into Nick's body, slow and smooth. He gives Nick a minute to adjust before he pulls his hips back and thrusts in again. Soon they get a steady rhythm going, Renard thrusting in, and Nick bucking his hips up to meet each thrust. They're rutting against each other like animals, the air fills with the musky scent of sex. Nick's moaning and yelling his lover's name. Even Sean lets a few moans slip.

Nick's the first to get hit by an overwhelming orgasm, splatting all over his stomach. He reaches out to pull Sean closer, blindly searching for his lips. He finds his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, and finally his mouth. Nick's moan gets lost in their kiss. Renard's hands fist in the sheets and his thrusts become sporadic. Oh god, he's almost there. Nick bucks his hips up with the little strength he has left, then Sean's coming, filling Nick up. They're both panting, both trembling.

Sean collapses, just managing to land next to Nick instead of on him. Renard decides that there's no way one of his little hexenbiests can do that. And Nick decides that he wants the Captain worried about him more often. 

"Still worried?" Nick finally manages.

Renard raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Maybe in an hour."

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1708
Tags: Slight spoilers for La Llorona

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make money from this.


Nick saunters up the sidewalk to Monroe’s porch. He’s carrying his gym bag – cover for one of his many Grimm weapons. His eyes move over all the Halloween decorations carefully placed throughout Monroe’s yard. Whoa.

                “Did you bring it?” Monroe calls from the porch.

                “You do this every year?” Nick walks up next to Monroe.

                “Are you kidding me? Halloween for us, come on, is like bigger than Christmas. There’s a long wesen tradition of the All Hallows Eve midnight woge. Running through the woods, scaring the crap outta villagers…sometimes literally.” He chuckles.

                “And you continue this fair tradition in Portland?”

                “ No, no, no. I mean, I would…if I could find some villagers. But, ya know, no. I can only imagine the fun my relatives must’ve had, man, back in the good old days.” He pauses. “Anyway, let me see it.”

                Nick pulls the mace out of his bag and hands it to Monroe.

                “Oh baby. That’s the one. Beautiful. And just think of the history, man.”

                “All the skulls bashed in, bones broken, knees shattered.”

                “Hey, those who ignore the past, et cetera, et cetera. Now watch this.” Monroe attaches the mace to his skeleton contraption rigged up in front of the window. “Okay. Check this out.” The duo make their way into Monroe’s equally-decorated house. “Wait ‘til you see this!”

                Nick looks around. Monroe’s house reminds him of his childhood home in Rhinebeck. His parents loved to decorate for the holidays, especially Halloween. He turns his attention back to Monroe. “Whoa. Intense.”

                “Okay, come here. Come here, come here, come here. Okay, ready? Here it goes.” With the pull of a lever, the skeleton swings the mace, obliterating a defenseless pumpkin. “That’s pretty great, right?” He gives a hearty chuckle.

                “Unless you’re a pumpkin,” Nick jokes. “Promise me no one’s gonna get hurt.”

                Monroe sighs. “Fine. I promise.” He can sense something’s on Nick’s mind. “You okay, man?”

                “Huh?” Nick looks up. “Yeah. Fine.”

                “Liar,” Monroe says as he disappears into the kitchen. When he returns he hands Nick a beer. “You’re not on duty, right?”

                “Nah, it’s like…” He checks his watch. “…almost six.”

                “Oh, damn. Didn’t realize I’d been at it all day.” Monroe shrugs.

                “Fine.” Nick rolls his eyes. “At least feed me?”

                “Course. Pizza?”

                “I think you know me well enough to know that answer.”

                “Yeah, yeah. No mushrooms.”

                They poke around the house, finishing up the decorating, while they wait for their pizza. When it arrives they settle down in the living room with a few beers and a scary movie.

                “Halloween just really reminds me of my parents.” Nick pauses. “They went all out. Every year. We had the best house on the block.” He smiles. “They’d have given you a run for your money.”

                “Sorry, man.”

                Nick shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

                “Is that why you don’t decorate?”

                “No. I’d love to decorate the house, but Juliette hates Halloween.”

                Monroe’s eyes grow wide.

                “I know, man.”

                They finish their pizza and the movie. Nick helps Monroe carry their plates and bottles to kitchen. Nick opens the fridge and scrunches up his face.

                “Uh, Monroe…what’s that?”

                “Oh, that’s dirt pie,” he answers, not skipping a beat.

                “Dirt pie?” Nick debates throwing in a dog joke, but decides against it.

                “Mhm. It’s basically chocolate cake, filled with chocolate pudding, topped with a bit of chocolate icing, with crumbled up chocolate graham crackers on top. The gummi worms give it the final little touch. It’s supposed to be a fun Halloween treat…well, so says Martha Stewart.”

                “Do I get to have a piece?”

                “Of course. Bring it here.”

                Once again, they settle down on the sofa, this time with cake and a new movie.

                “Oh man, Monroe. This is amazing!”


                “You know, if you keep feeding me I’ll never leave.”

                “Yeah, kinda already found that out.”

                Nick just grins.

                “So, uh…how’re things at home?”

                Nick shrugs. “She still doesn’t remember me. She’s been talking about moving out.”

                “I’m sorry, man.”

                “Eh, don’t be.  I may have been the one to first mention it. We’re just not clicking like we did before. And sleeping on that sofa…dude, it fucking sucks.” He takes another bite of cake. “I told her she could stay in the house if she wanted, that I’d move out.”

                “Where would go?”

                “I don’t know, maybe a motel, maybe stay with Hank.”

                “Well, if you want, you can stay here. Door’s always open. Besides, you’re here all the time anyway.”

                Nick smiles. “Thanks, Monroe.”


                “Hey, Monroe, you believe in ghosts?”

                “Yeah, of course. Why?”

                “You know anything about La Llorona?”

                “The Weeping Woman? Yeah. Old Mexican legend.  Bit similar to the celtic banshee.”

                “Those kidnappings – the ones I told you about – I think La Llorona took them.”

                “What? You mean someone dressed up as La Llorona or…”

                “I’m not sure. There’s not a lot of solid evidence. But more and more it’s starting to look like a real ghost. I don’t know, though. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

                Monroe reaches out and squeezes Nick’s shoulder. To both their surprise, Nick leans into the touch.

                “Thought I was going crazy the first time I saw a wesen…but there was an entire world I just didn’t know about.” He turns to look at Monroe and their eyes lock. For the first time, Nick realizes that Monroe’s eyes are intense even when they aren’t red.

                “C’mon, let’s have some more pie.”


                Nick starts packing two weeks before Thanksgiving. Most of his stuff gets shoved into a storage unit, with the help of Hank and Monroe. The rest of his stuff – small, personal things – go with him to Monroe’s house. He’s all settled a few days before Thanksgiving, which he was actually kind of excited for.

                Nick and Hank are sitting on the sofa, beer in hand, football on the television. Monroe and Rosalee are bouncing around the kitchen, browning and seasoning, roasting and baking. Nick wanders into the kitchen and checks out all of the food.

                “Mmm…smells good!”

                “Thanks, Nick!” Rosalee smiles.

                Monroe starts carving the turkey and no sooner does he pull the knife away does Nick try to steal a piece. Monroe smacks his hand away and Rosalee giggles.

                “Dude, it’ll be on the table in a few minutes.”

                Nick rolls his eyes.

                “Can you get the wine out and open it?” Rosalee asks, as she covers the rolls.


                “And don’t you even think about putting your grimy hands anywhere near that pumpkin pie!”

                Nick sighs, feeling defeated. He grabs the wine, opens it, and sets it on the table. He walks back into the kitchen to offer some help to Rosalee as she carries some of the dishes out. When Monroe’s not looking, she sneaks a piece of turkey to Nick and they both giggle.


                                Monroe finds he actually likes having Nick around. Nick likes being there too. He had almost forgotten what it was like to come home to someone who knows you, remembers you. He likes coming home to a nice hot dinner too. He likes that Monroe knows his favorite meals and foods without it being written on the top of some recipe card. He’s still getting used to sleeping alone, though. But now, at least, he gets to sleep in a bed. Monroe thought it might be hard to have Nick in his house, thought his routine would get ruined. But it’s be remarkably easy to fit Nick into his life. He doesn’t even mind that his house – his territory – smells like his new house mate.

                “I was thinking about going apartment hunting this weekend.”

                “Oh?” Monroe tries not to sound disappointed.

                “Yeah, there were a few decent places in the paper. Figure you wanna get me outta here.”

                “It’s no problem, really. Besides, Christmas is coming. Do you really want to move over the holidays?”

                “I guess you’ve got a point.”

                “Just wait until after the new year.”


                Christmas comes and Nick’s happy he stayed. Especially when he gets to see the way Monroe’s face lights up when he pulls the antique toy train from its wrappings. Monroe actually hugs Nick in thanks. Then Monroe slides a box over to Nick; both of them have their lips curled into eager smiles.

                “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

                Nick tears off the paper and pulls off the lid. There are two large, leather-bound journals in the box. Nick pulls the top one out and flips through the pages. It bears a striking resemblance to his tome on blutbaden, except it’s written in English. He takes a closer look and realizes that it’s Monroe’s handwriting.


                “I’ve been at it for a while. I go out to the trailer here and there, while you’re at work. I started before you even moved in.”

                Nick doesn’t say anything; he’s a bit in shock.

                “Thought it might makes things easier when you’re looking for something specific, ya know, since you can actually read it. I’ve only finished the blutbaden and jägerbar tomes. I’ll do the others, if you want.”

                “Y-yeah, of course. Monroe…this is…perfect.” His fingers trace the spine of the book. “Thank you.” He sets the book back in the box and turns to Monroe. “Not just for this, but for everything. You’re always helping me out, you’ve given me a place to stay. I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to thank you.”


                They talk about having a little get-together for New Year’s Eve, but ultimately decide against it. They stay in, just the two of them, with a kitchen full of snacks and a fridge full of beer. Finally, they start counting down.

                “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…happy New Year!”

                Nick throws his arms around Monroe and pulls him into a big hug. It lasts a few seconds longer than it probably should. Nick pulls away first, but only enough to look up at Monroe. His hearts starts beating faster as he leans up on his toes, standing eye-to-eye with Monroe. They both lean until their lips meet in a long-overdue kiss.

                Nick smiles. “Happy New Year, Monroe.”

Pillow Talk

Feb. 5th, 2013 05:16 pm
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1008
Tags: Fluff

A/N: I don't own Grimm or make money from this. Also, this was actually written prior to Season of the Hexenbiest. Like, way prior.

Monroe walks to the front door and opens it up to find Nick standing on his porch.

“Hey, Monroe.”

“I gave you a key, you can use it.”

“I know…I just feel weird.”

Monroe rolls his eyes and steps aside to let Nick in.

“Uh, why do you have a bag?”

“I was hoping I could stay here, just for a night or two.”

“Yeah, sure. Problems at home?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, guest room’s yours for however long you need it.”

“Thanks, man.”

Monroe orders them a pizza – veggie lovers as always – and he pulls two cold Guinness bottles out of the fridge. They tune into a hockey game and have a bit of a guy’s night. Eventually Nick’s got enough beers in him to loosen up and pretty much spill his guts to Monroe.

“Dude, she’s never gonna remember.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t make new memories. You wooed her once, you can do it again.”

“I thought that, but it’s just not working. It’s not even that she doesn’t know me, it’s that it seems like maybe she doesn’t want to, you know? Like, we tried for a while but we’re just not clicking like we did before. I’ve been sleeping on the sofa for over a month. I use the sofa pillow and the quilt Bud’s wife made. She never even offered me my pillow.”

“And you’re too damn proud to go ask for it.”

“And I feel bad just going and taking things. I’m trying to be nice, be a gentleman…but damn I’m so sick of all this. Yesterday I was having another nightmare and she woke me up on the sofa. She wasn’t her normal self, wasn’t sweet or gentle. Then she got all bitchy and left for work. Monroe…I just can’t take it anymore.”

“Maybe you two should just call it a loss and move on. I know it probably feels like you’re throwing away the last three years, but it seems like you’re hurting. You don’t deserve that, Nick. Like I said, the guest room is yours for as long as you need it…and as long as you want it.”

“Seriously, Monroe, thanks.”

“I’ll get the dishes, you go get some sleep.”

Nick changes and flops into the guest bed. All the tension leaves his body and he finally relaxes for the first time in over a month. Oh man, a bed. He’s out like a light in all of about five minutes. At first all is well; he’s sleeping like a baby. Then a nightmare creeps in.

Monroe’s half asleep when his ears perk up. He can hear Nick rustling around across the hall. He decides to get up and check on Nick. Just in case. He pokes his head in and Nick’s almost trembling. His browns are furrowed and he’s frowning. Monroe knows he’s having a nightmare; he remembers that look from when he visited Nick in the hospital after that case with the siegbarste. He lays his hand on Nick’s shoulder and gently gives him a shake.

“Nick, wake up.”

Nick screams, grabbing the pillow and proceeding to smack Monroe with it.

“Dude…what…are…you…doing?” He asks between hits. “Knock…it off…” He grabs the pillow and smacks Nick, just once.

Nick looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Monroe tosses the pillow aside, sits down on the edge of the bed, and pulls Nick into a big bear hug. Nick clings to him, still shaking with fear. It’s a while before Nick calms down and Monroe loosens his grip.

“Another nightmare?” Monroe asks.

Nick nods.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Nick shakes his head.

“You want coffee? Or do you want to go back to bed?”

Nick settles back into bed, giving Monroe his answer. He goes to get up, return to his own bed, but Nick grabs his shirt sleeve.

“Stay? Please?”

Monroe nods and crawls into bed next to Nick. It should probably be weird, but somehow it’s not. Nick feels safe; Monroe’s so warm curled around him. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to sleep in the same bed with someone. Hell, he’d practically forgotten what it was like to sleep in a bed. Monroe doesn’t mind either. Nick’s his best friend and he’s known about the nightmares for quite some time. He hates seeing Nick sad or hurt or – especially – scared.

They fall asleep and end up sleeping through the night, peacefully. Monroe’s the first to wake up. He stays in bed, keeping an eye on Nick until he finally wakes up. Briefly Monroe wonders if Nick has to go to work, but he isn’t going to say anything right now. Nick turns so he’s facing Monroe and buries his face in his friend’s chest. Monroe tightens his arms around Nick and one hand snakes up to tangle in his raven locks.

Monroe’s the first to break the silence, his voice is low.

“I think you should stay here.”

Nick nods. “Me too.”

And he does. He’s there a week before he finally ends things with Juliette. She’s relieved, happy. And Nick’s not really sure how he feels about that. He tries not to think about it, just about packing. It doesn’t take him long to pack up all his things; he doesn’t really have much. Juliette is the one with all the stuff. She picked out the house, filled it with her things and things she picked out. Nick just went along with whatever she wanted. Maybe that should have been his first sign.

Things work well with Nick and Monroe. Nick was over there a lot anyway, so him staying there wasn’t too weird. He ends up in bed with Monroe quite a bit. The nightmares aren’t as frequent or as bad; he just really kind of likes snuggling with Monroe. It feels nice, safe. Nick decides he’ll keep at it as long as Monroe lets him. And little did Nick know that Monroe had no intentions of ever stopping him.

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1706
Tags: Slight spoilers for Over My Dead Body
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
 AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: General Audiences
Pairing: Nick/Monroe/Rosalee
Words: 601
Tags: Polygamy, Fluff, OT3
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: General Audiences
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 905
Tags: Christmas, Fluff, hurt!Monroe
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 2246
Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Explicit Sexual content, sick!fic
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 2654

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 1787
Tags: Explicit Sexual Content
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Teen
Pairing: Monroe/Hap
Words: 880
Tags: Bromance, Mild language
lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Teen
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 307
Tags: Brief Sexual Suggestion, Short Fic, Drabble

lastgrimmstanding: (Default)
AO3 Link: [click here]

Rating: Mature
Pairing: Nick/Monroe
Words: 2379
Tags: Violence, hurt!Nick, protective!Monroe, Language, Intimacy


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February 2013

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