"Stay With Me" (Grimm fic)

Grimm
Nick/Monroe
Rated G

A/N :: Sadly, I don't own Grimm.

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I was frantically rushing around in the trailer trying to tidy up. There were clothes strewn everywhere – the trailer was an absolute mess. I stuffed the food wrappers and take-out containers in a trash bag, walked out to my truck, and tossed the bag in the back seat. I went back inside and tried to cram all my clothes in the drawers under the bed. How in the hell did I make such a mess in two days? There was a knock on the door and I just about had a heart attack.

“Dude, it’s just me.” Monroe let himself in. “Are you…cleaning?”

“Yeah, you know…it just got kind of messy in here.”

“Oh.” Monroe sat down at the desk. He started peeking in the drawers.

“You are so nosey, man.”

“Come on, you got all this cool stuff in here.” He opened another drawer. “You sure do have a lot of snacks in here, too.”

“Um…wesen literature makes me hungry.”

“Why do you have clothes in this drawer?”

“Um…I-I…uh…”

“Wait a minute. Are you staying here?”

I sighed. The jig was up. “Yeah, but just for the past two days.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I plopped down on the bed, feeling utterly defeated.

“What are you – oh…Sorry.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Why didn’t you go stay with Hank? Or you could’ve come to my house. I have a guest room…not to mention running water and heat.”

“I don’t know. Everything’s just so complicated. This was just the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, get your shit together; you’re coming to stay with me.”

“Monroe, you don’t have to.”

“You’re right: I don’t. But I am, so let’s go.”

XXX

                “You want peppers in your omelet?”

                “You’re making me breakfast?”

                “Yes. Cheese?”

                “Um…yeah, both. Thanks.”

                “There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge or there’s coffee brewing. Help yourself. Toast?”

                “Wow. Um, yes, please.” I poured myself some orange juice and sat down at the table.

Spending the night at Monroe’s house was like spending a night in a fancy bed and breakfast. There was this coziness here that – now that I think about it – was never in mine and Juliette’s house. It was weird; I never saw Monroe as being cozy.

                Monroe placed a plate in front of me. That was the best looking omelet I’d ever seen. He sat down across from me with his own plate and I smiled at him. This was nice; why did I even think I could live in that cramped little trailer.

                “Thanks, Monroe, for all of this.”

                “It’s no problem, really.”

                “This is delicious!”

“Thanks. So, I’m curious, how did you think living in that trailer was going to play out?”

                “I don’t even know. I figured if Marie could do it, so could I.”

                Monroe just shook his head at me. “Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need. I have to do some grocery shopping today, anything you want?”

                “Um…cheetos?”

                “Sure. Oh, I’ll go and get you a key made, too.” He seemed oddly cheery this morning.

                Monroe got up from the table and put his plate in the sink. I shoved the last bite of omelet in my mouth and handed him my plate. I offered to do the dishes but he waved me off. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I just felt the overwhelming need to thank him. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

                “Um…”

                “Thanks, Monroe.” I let go of him and went to get ready for work.

XXXXXX

                “Hey, Nick. What’s up?”

                “Did you have anything planned for dinner tonight?”

                “Not really, no. I was just about to get up and rummage through the fridge for something to make us.”

                “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m going to pick something up. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes – just have to hand in my report. I’ll pick something up and then I’ll be home. Sound good?”

                “Sure. I’ll see you in a little while.”

                I hung up the phone, slipped it into my pocket, and then it hit me.

                Home?

                I’ve been staying with Monroe for the better part of a month. There hasn’t been any kind of discussion about finding a place or moving in or anything like that. Monroe had said that I could stay with him as long as I needed. To be honest, I really liked staying with him. I was in no hurry to find another place. I did my best not to seem like I was taking advantage of Monroe. I helped with dishes and cleaning. I took out the trash. I surprised him with 6-packs of microbrew and even a bottle of his favorite top-shelf red wine. I bought us dinner once a week. Maybe it’s weird, but it feels like home. Monroe feels like home.

                I handed my report in to the captain, grabbed my jacket, and headed to the parking lot. I decided to swing into our favorite pizza place and get a veggie pizza – Monroe’s favorite. I made sure to ask for extra banana peppers – again, Monroe’s favorite. While I waited for the pizza, I walked down the block and picked up a 6-pack. As I was walking back to grab the pizza I took notice of an antique shop. Somehow I’d never really taken notice of it. I dropped the beer off in car then walked across the street. It was small so I knew it wouldn’t take long to walk through. I was perusing some pocket watches; one of them caught my eye. It was white gold – at least that’s what the tag said – with the most intricate little designs engraved on both sides. I popped it open. The face was white gold with roman numeral made of a jade inlay. It was an absolutely gorgeous watch. Monroe must be rubbing off on me. I couldn’t help myself; I walked up the counter and asked the young woman if she could gift wrap it for me. Box in hand, I picked up the pizza and headed back to Monroe’s house.

                I climbed the porch steps, juggling the pizza and the beer – I slipped the gift box in my jacket pocket. I tapped on the door with my foot. Monroe opened it and grabbed the 6-pack, lightening my load. I did my best to keep the grin from my face – I really wanted to surprise Monroe with the watch. I set the pizza on the table and Monroe got the plates.

                He lifted the lid of the pizza box. “Veggie pizza with extra banana peppers?!” Monroe looked like a kid in a candy store. “Oh no, what do you want? Are we hunting a hungry pack of jägerbars or something?”

                “No, no. Nothing like that. I just…I know it’s your favorite.”

                “My favorite beer and my favorite pizza? What’re you up to grimm?”

                “It’s just a thank you. I know I’ve been here for a while. I really appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

                “You know, I like having you here.”

                “You do?”

                “Yeah. I actually wanted to suggest something.”

                “Ok?”

                “Maybe you could stay here indefinitely.”

                “Like move in? For real?”

                “Yeah.” Monroe nodded and smiled.

                “I’d love to!”

                “Earlier when you called about dinner…you said you’d pick up dinner and then you’d be home. I just…it really made me happy. I don’t know why. It’s probably dumb.”

                “No, it’s not dumb. After I hung up I was nervous that you’d be freaked out; I kind of said it without really thinking about it. But then I really thought about it and this really does feel like home.”

                We both smiled.

                “Oh, I got you something today. While I was waiting for the pizza I walked down to grab a 6-pack and I passed an antique shop. When I was walking around, I bought you something.” I handed him the box. “I hope you like it.”

                He pulled the ribbon off and set it on the counter. Then he pulled off the lid. I swear I saw tears welling up in his eyes. He smiled as he pulled the pocket watch out of the box. He held it in both hands, turning it over, popping it open, and thoroughly inspecting it. Then he looked up at me – he had the softest expression on his face that I’d ever seen.

                “You know how I’m always reminding you how many you owe me?”

                “Yeah. I think I owe you like 47.”

                “No you don’t.”

                “How many?”

                “Zero.”