Nick is a cop. If anyone asks, he is a damn good cop.

Nick is a Grimm. If anyone asks, he is not a very good Grimm.


Nick looked over the case. It was a relatively simple one and, as of yet, there were no wesen involved. Though the way all his cases were going, he should put Monroe and Rosalee on speed dial. Nick flipped through the victim's contacts list. They were already contacted but wouldn't be in until the next morning. The rest was just asking whether anyone recognized the man in the dark jacket. After that, it was open and close. He reached into his pocket and felt nothing.

That was not supposed to happen.

He eventually got his car keys back. The officers had passed it along always, three steps ahead, until Nick threatened (strike that and say "insinuated") that the coffee machine would have an "accident". Then everyone was ready to cough up the information. He felt bad about blackmailing them but what other way was there?

Wu looked sheepishly at him. "Sorry, Nick, it's all part of the fun. You weren't really going to get the machine, right?"

Nick chuckled. "No, I can't live without coffee."

"And neither can I." Hank appeared with another file. "The vic. had a record. Not here. Somewhere around New Orleans." Whoever said the detectives had it nice was mistaken. The chairs were horrible.

They sat in their not-so-comfy chairs. Hank opened the file to reveal one assault, a bar fight during Mardi Gras. Nick sighed and sunk into his "unsinkable into" chair. That was a waste of time and now the DA was going to give them hell for letting information the defense could use into free range of the investigation. But, it could be worse. The DA could be angry that they didn't take it into account and faced the fire in court. Either way they were going to be burned.

Hank must have noticed, because he smiled that grin that said "you need to take a night off". And when he said "off" it was in a fluorescent pink plastered in strobe lights and pumped out Lady Gaga's Just Dance. Did he mention it glowed in the dark? Yes, it glowed in the dark.

"Take the night off." Nick didn't argue. The family was coming in tomorrow. Then they would ID the guy and everything would be very nice and done.

Getting into the car, Nick realized exactly how messy the wagon was getting. There were papers scattered about. Some were on wesen and more than a little incriminating. He started to organize them. wesen notes into the glove compartment and disposable (read "not a lot of information in them") case notes were ordered into a pile by case in the back seat. Looking at it, his priorities were screwed up. Nick stuffed the notes into a paper bag and wrote a note in his note book to bring them into evidence. The new guy would have so much fun shredding and recycling them.

Among the many sheaves was a box. It was a circular, plastic box with two openings. One said "to share" and the other was "not to share". It advertised "Wintergreen" and "Sugar-Free" in sparkly letters. Nick was momentarily stunned.

Not that mints were spectacularly stunning. He was just a little surprised. Nick did not eat mints. He was one of those people born with eternally fresh breath. He smelled the same after getting up in the morning or eating a basket of onions with a side of sardines to his usual after toothpaste-mouthwash routine. He never really thought much of it. But, then Aunt Marie had good breath too. Maybe it was a Grimm thing. Hilarious, right? After fighting for all that was good and right, Charles Darwin gave them nice breath. He would curse the man as he died smelling minty fresh.

But back on topic, he stared at the box, which was not his, and wondered who it belonged to. Juliet was a chewing gum person. Hank liked using a spray freshener. Nick shook the box. There was no rattle of sugar-free, minty goodness. He opened the box and found it stuffed with paper. He gingerly pulled out a note. The paper was yellow and folded into fourths. He unfolded it to reveal neat, slanted writing.

Get milk.

Standard. Couldn't guess who with that.

Be careful.

Interesting, but ambiguous. Nick realized exactly what this situation looked like. He was in a car staring at folded post-its like some detectives stared at evidence. People would start thinking he was crazier than they already did.

Nick pulled out of the parking lot. At least, no one messed with his brakes or killed the battery. He pulled into the drive way of his happy home and checked for watchers. The eisbeibers had laid-off the spying but there were others. No one on the street looked like a creeper. More like no one on the street, in the bushes, or up a tree looked like a creeper.

He was almost out of his car when his phone went off. Juliette. He sat back down in the seat and hit the "call" button.

"Hey." She sounded well, but not entirely cheerful.

"What's up?" He asked.

Her voice was apologetic over the line. "Well, I can't get home early tonight. An old lady wants me to check up on her cat."

"I'll see you later, sweetie."

"Bye, honey." They fell into the couple nickname calling. A minute later, Nick hung up. The idea to take his Grimm notes struck his as he got out of his car. The evening air was temperate. Nick tried to remember where he stowed his light jackets last fall, before the Grimm life took over; it felt like a life time ago. He was glad the house was cool. He walked past the AC on his way to the kitchen and checked the temperature. It was the mid-seventies. Not bad.


Lasagna was always better the second day. He didn't care what Monroe and Juliette had to say about it. Nick plopped on the couch and turned on the TV. There was depressingly nothing on. Nothing on meant nothing interesting on. He reached into his pockets and noticed something.

His phone was gone.


Wall of Disclaimers is up.

This was a birthday gift to me from a friend. I received an empty mint box because I couldn't think of anything else to ask for that was immediately on their person. Sure, I got a few weird looks, but I explained it afterwards.

Anyhow, I hope you like it. If you do, please tell me.