Playing House
by Sandrine Shaw
Adalind is so used to people giving her disbelieving looks when it comes to the parentage of her baby that the first time someone mistakes her and Nick for an actual couple, it completely unnerves her.
"Oh. No. We're not– It's not like that," she's quick to assure the shop assistant who keeps beaming at her like it personally delights her that Adalind is having a baby. They're only here to buy a stroller, for God's sake, and the only reason Nick is with her is because there's no way she's carrying the damn thing home by herself.
The assistant is quick to apologize. "I'm so sorry. I thought he was the baby daddy."
"He is," Adalind snaps, and the woman's expression turns sympathetic. "Oh, I see."
"I really don't think you do." There's part of her that wants nothing more than to enlighten Ms. Sticking-Her-Nose-Into-Her-Customers'-Relationships as to the precise nature of her history with Nick. Except maybe to take the woman's head off with a flick of her hand. Giving up her powers was a terrible idea.
Nick's hand at the small of her back is both soothing and warning.
"I believe you were going to show us that stroller..." He offers the sales woman a disarming smile that doesn't quite manage to dissipate the cool, judgmental stare she levels at him.
Later, when they exist the shop and put their new purchase into the trunk of his car, Adalind turns to him. "You know that she was not so subtly judging you for walking out on your pregnant girlfriend for some hot piece of ass?"
"How's that any worse than the truth?" Nick sighs. "You looked like you wanted to throw her across the room. I thought I should step in before things got out of hand."
Adalind shrugs. "Whatever. It's your honor she was insulting." The look Nick throws her tells her he doesn't believe her, that he knows what's bothering her was that anyone would look at them and think they were a happy, normal family, but he's kind enough not to bring it up.
Or maybe he's just as unnerved by the idea as she is.
#
The first time Nick holds his son in his arms, he feels a sharp pang in his heart. He wouldn't change who he is, but being a Grimm has been a lesson in sacrifice and loss, and he'd give everything to spare the tiny red-faced creature in his arms a similar fate. The Hexenbiest legacy won't make it any easier for the little guy in the long run; it'll only mean that he'll have twice as many enemies and will have to fight twice as hard to survive.
And yet, he's the most beautiful thing in the world. Nick softly brushes the baby's cheek with a shaky fingertip. "I can't believe we made this."
"I know. When you put a Grimm and a Hexenbiest together, it usually results in destruction, not creation." Adalind looks pale and exhausted, but she has the same expression of wonder on her face that Nick knows he's wearing.
Between the two of them, they caused plenty of destruction. But maybe this little boy makes up for some of it.
#
3 a.m. and Kelly is crying. Barefooted and exhausted, Adalind rocks him in her arms as she paces the room.
She rests his tiny head against her shoulder and whispers sweet, comforting nothings, burying her nose in his neck and smelling that soft, warm baby smell.
When she looks up, she notices Nick leaning against the doorway, all tousled bed-head and sleepy eyes, watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face. How long has he been standing there? Something prickles at the back of her neck. She knows that Nick isn't going to hurt her, not unless she'd give him a good reason and never while she's holding his son in her arms, but that certainty is at odds with what the old Hexenbiest instincts are telling her, warning her of turning her back to a Grimm, especially now that she's so vulnerable
"Do you want me to take over for a bit?" he asks.
It's those instincts and the overwhelming tiredness of barely getting any sleep in the last couple of weeks that make her response sharper than she means it to be. "No, I've got it."
Nick's face softens. He sighs. "Adalind. I know you got it. I just thought you might want to try and catch some sleep and leave baby carrying duty to me for a bit."
His tone is placatory, calming, and does nothing to provoke the tears shooting into her eyes. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to will the waterworks away, the helplessness of her situation making her sick, hormones and lack of sleep only adding to it. Taking a deep breath, she forces a smile on her face and hopes Nick will pretend to believe it, no matter how brittle and broken it looks. "Sure. Sleep would be nice, I guess."
When Nick takes Kelly from her, the back of his hand accidentally brushes against Adalind's cheek, and it feels a little like a jolt of electricity. Her eyes meet Nick's, and she knows he felt the same thing.
#
The hardest part about sharing a house, a child, a life with Adalind is how easy it is. The normalcy of it all.
It's not what Nick expected or wanted, even, and he keeps reminding himself that it's not real, that they're just doing this for Kelly's sake. But then he's coming home late to find Adalind curled up in the chair wearing one of his shirts, Kelly asleep in her arms, and the sense of family hits him in the chest with the force of a bullet fired straight at his heart.
Nick leans down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of Kelly's head, careful not to wake him up, and from up-close Adalind's soft, wistful smile takes his breath away.
"Hey," she whispers. "Rough day?"
It makes him wonder what she sees when he enters the room adorned with bruises and scratch-marks, his clothes sticky with the blood of some Wesen, if it makes the part of her that will always be Hexenbiest, powers or not, recoil. But there's no disgust in her eyes, only worry.
He shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound, crouching down on the floor next to them and watching Kelly sleep. "You could say that. Black Claw related attack. It's a mess. It's just– It's good to be home."
Home.
The words slip out without thinking. Home used to be the house he shared with Juliette. When did it become an abandoned, fortified warehouse inhabited by a woman who used to want him dead and a child conceived by subterfuge?
Adalind's finger brushes against his cheek, underneath the large, nasty cut that only just stopped bleeding. The gesture is hesitant, almost fearful, like she's not sure if she's allowed to touch him. "I'm glad you're home too. It feels safer with you here," she tells him, and he can't detect anything but honesty in her voice.
#
Adalind thinks about it long before it happens, as hatred turned into fear turned into gratitude turns into genuine affection, making her wonder what will be the thing the tips the scales towards desire.
She expects something monumental, something big and scary. The sharp relief after an attack, the adrenaline rush of thank God we're alive. A fight that has anger turning into a different kind of passion. Perhaps even some freaky love spell gone wrong – because wouldn't it be poetic justice if it was once again some supernatural mishap that pushed them toward reassessing their relationship?
Instead, it happens quietly, stealthily slipping past their defenses.
She's in the kitchen when Nick comes home, balancing Kelly on one arm while stirring the Bolognese sauce and humming an old children's song her mother used to sing to her. When she turns around, Nick watching them from across the kitchen counter with a smile on his face. He's on time, for once, and not wearing any new bruises, and the relief she feels at seeing him whole and happy is still foreign and strange to her.
"Dinner's almost done."
Nick takes Kelly from her with gentle hands, putting him into the high chair at the table, and making silly faces at him until he's giggling with childish glee. Adalind turns around and watches them fondly. After a moment, Kelly decides that the toy cube on his tray is more interesting than his dad, and Nick stands.
He looks at Adalind and smiles, tenderness softening his features as he reaches out to brush his thumb against the corner of Adalind's lips. His touch is sure and steady, and her heart is beating a storm in her chest. When he pulls back, Nick's finger comes away stained red from the sauce. He licks it off, and as Adalind's eyes follow the movement with her eyes, his smile turns a shade wicked.
It's her who leans in for the kiss, but by the time their lips meet, his hands are already cradling her face and his mouth is wild and hungry against hers.
The pasta boils over. Neither of them cares.
#
Back at the baby store, looking for toys, Adalind can't decide which one of the plushies to buy – the little pink elephant or the cute wolf with the large eyes (Monroe will make all kinds of indignant noises when he sees it) – and eventually throws both into her shopping cart.
She feels a pair of eyes on her, the feeling of being watched prickling at the back of her neck. She's about to alert Nick that they're being followed until she spots the shop assistant who was here when they got the stroller observing them with that same old judgment in her gaze. And, really?!
Adalind narrows her eyes.
"Hey Nick," she calls out, turning towards where he's trying out several large toy cars that Kelly is not going to care about for months yet, if not years. At the sight of Nick's gleaming eyes, she almost regrets tearing him away.
He puts the shiny red car in his hands down with visible regret and comes over. "Did you find everything?"
"Yeah, sure." She smiles, stepping into his space and rising up on her toes to kiss him.
It's not the kind of kiss she'd usually exchange in public, too deep and heated and intimate to be meant for the prying eyes of strangers, but there's only so much snobbish scrutiny she can take without feeling challenged.
When they break apart, Nick blinks, looking a little dumbfounded and flustered. His breath is heavy and labored. "What was that for?"
"I just felt like it."
His eyes dart to the shop assistant, who's now turned away, busying herself with the shelves, a visible blush of her cheeks. Nick sighs. "You were trying to make a point, weren't you?"
Adalind smiles. "Maybe. I still felt like it."
Nick snorts and pulls her in for another kiss, every bit as filthy and passionate as the last one. When he steps away, his eyes twinkle. "Yeah, I felt like it too."
#
"I love you," someone says in the dark of the night, in a sparsely furbished bedroom in a warehouse on the outskirts of Portland where a Grimm and a Hexenbiest lie next to each other. It's not the kind of fairy tale that ever makes it into the books. It should, by all means, upset the natural order of things and break apart the fabric of the universe.
A rustle of covers, bodies moving closer together. Then, after a moment of silence: "I love you too." Quiet and soft, but certain.
The world, as ever, keeps on turning.
The End.