My first Grimm story! Lovingly written for a prompt over on the LJ/Dreamwidth page ^.- Hope you all like it! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing =/

Happy

He's not sure when it started exactly or how long it had been going on before he noticed it. It could have been days or it could have been weeks. All he did know is that he'd unconsciously started smelling Nick when he stopped by the house. Not in a "hey dude, you could really use a shower" kind of way, more along the lines of he could smell his emotional state. It was unusual even for him and he was used to the enhanced blutbad senses.

The first time he truly noticed it, Nick was happy. He wasn't sure why and he didn't ask. The Grimm had stopped by his house one afternoon to grab a beer (it really was impossible to get rid of him now) and there was just something about him that Monroe had never noticed before. Nick smelled like kiwis. He frowned as he thought that, wondering where such a random thought had come from in the first place, but it was true. Nick smelled like a fresh kiwi.

Somewhere down in the primal part of his brain, he recognized the fact that he was actively scenting on another man but he was too surprised by the smell to pay much attention to the realization. It wasn't unpleasant at all, it was nice actually. The more Nick smiled and laughed, the stronger the kiwi smell became. He vaguely thought about asking him about it but he knew the detective wouldn't know what he was talking about. So instead he just sat there quietly and listened as Nick rambled on about something, his mind still focused on the fact that the Grimm smelled like a fruit basket rather than whatever he was saying.

Excited

The next time it happened was very similar to the first in that when Nick walked in, he immediately smelled fruit in the air. The detective was excited about something, a case they had just cracked, and he'd come over to celebrate. Monroe congratulated him but he was more interested in the smell that seemed to be clinging to Nick today.

It was similar to the kiwi smell he'd had a few days earlier but there was something different about it. It smelled…lighter, bubbly, effervescent in a way. It was similar to getting a nose full carbonation bubbles, the sensation almost making him sneeze just thinking about it.

Nick was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands at the table. Monroe tries his hardest to listen to what he's saying but once again he's distracted by the scent. He wonders why he's noticing it so much now when he's known Nick for a few months already. Maybe because he hadn't been aware of it like he was now.

He gives up on trying to describe the scent in his head and listens to Nick instead. He decided that if Pop Rocks had a smell, that's what Nick would smell like right now. He settles on pink grapefruit for the time being and moves on.

Tired

Its late, later than usual when Nick stops by, and Monroe had just locked the front door when he hears a familiar rap against the wood. He frowns, debating for a second whether or not he should open the door and let the Grimm in because honestly, nothing is that important at 11:26 at night. The debate lasts for about five more seconds before he sighs and opens the door. He's prepared to ream Nick for showing up so late but one look at the detective's haggard appearance stops the rant in its tracks.

Nick looks tired, dark circles forming beneath his eyes like bruises, and Monroe vaguely wonders how long it had been since he'd gotten a full night's sleep. He's here to ask him about a case he and Hank are working, he thinks it could be Grimm related. Kids have gone missing in the area and were last seen playing in the woods near an old cottage. It screams "witch" and Nick has pretty much arrived at that conclusion before Monroe ever opens his mouth.

He's reading over Nick's notes at the coffee table, the detective sitting across from him quietly. He looks ready to fall asleep on the table and Monroe can literally smell the fatigue on him. Its like wet newspaper, the smell of heavy ink, thin paper, and dirty water all mingling together to create a truly pitiful picture. Nick's chin is resting in his hand as Monroe continues to read and he doesn't even have to look up to know the Grimm is about to fall asleep sitting up if he doesn't get up and move in the next two minutes.

He agrees that he thinks this is not simply a missing children case and that there's definitely some Grimm work involved before handing the papers back to Nick. The detective straightens a bit, rolling his shoulder back in an attempt to look a bit more awake. He looks ready to fall out of the chair and Monroe almost tells him to sleep on the couch. Almost. He is still a Blutbad, reformed though he may be, and allowing a Grimm to crash on his couch is still a little much to offer.

Instead, he walks him to the door, watching carefully as Nick gets into his car and cranks the engine. Even over the gust of exhaust, he can still smell wet newspaper. Nick waves tiredly at him and drives away into the night. Monroe sighs and closes the door, locking it absently and turning off the lights.

Angry

Burned coffee. That's all Monroe can smell right now and Nick is pissed. He's never seen the younger man angry before, never really thought about it, but its truly a sight to behold. Nick has the man pinned to the ground with his knee, his gun pressed firmly into the back of his skull, and he looks like manslaughter charges are the only thing keeping him from using a bullet to make the man's head a human pinball machine.

The man was a child molester and a murderer and new evidence had come around that he'd been eating his victims. They'd been after this guy for months with no luck and Nick had finally asked Monroe to help him track him down. The man had been living in a small, unassuming brick house just a few yards away from an elementary school bus stop. It had been like walking into a candy store.

The man is struggling, giggling maniacally and trying to make a deal with the detective but Nick is having none of it. He pressed down harder with his knee and Monroe can almost hear a rib crack. He'd offered to help but Nick said no, content to pin the other man to the ground himself and make sure he couldn't move. Their backup should be here any second and Monroe is silently glad for that because it honestly looks like Nick is about to commit guiltless murder.

Scorched coffee. The smell is stronger now, almost overpowering, and Monroe scrunches his nose against it. There's a siren wailing in the background now and blue and red lights are just visible at the top of the street. A few seconds later, two officers are on the scene, saving the man from Nick's rage and whisking him away in the back of their car. Nick is standing there, shaking with anger, and Monroe makes a silent vow to never piss off the detective if he can help it.

Worried

He'll give the woman credit for getting the jump on him, he'd never even seen her coming. One minute he's following Nick through the house, the next the knife imbedded in his shoulder and he's flat on his back on the ground. He hears Nick yell his name but then the woman is after him as well and there's a terrible commotion in the hall and Monroe can't see anything.

The knife is sharp and long, the handle visible in his line of sight. Its not a deadly wound but it hurts like hell. He can hear Nick and the woman wrestling violently in the hallway, pictures falling off the wall and shattering to the ground, furniture being overturned, holes being punched through the wood panels. There's a single gunshot, a muffled thump, and Nick is calling his name again.

Monroe manages to pull the knife out with a gasp, dropping the bloody blade to the ground beside him and panting. The wound is already healing but that blade was silver so its going to take longer than usual for it to close. There's a large amount of blood on his shirt but he's not worried about it. Nick, however, is.

The detective drops to his side, eyes wide and panicked, and he's cradling Monroe's face in his hands. He pulls off his jacket, that silly leather jacket he always wore, and presses it hard against the wound. Monroe winces and tries to focus on anything but the fiery pain in his shoulder as the tissue tries to stitch itself back together. Nick is talking to him, trying to get a response, and he can smell the leather jacket that's covering his wound. Wait…that's not leather…its something different…acidic and sharp and burning. Its like rubbing alcohol.

Monroe frowns, realizing its coming from Nick. Nick is worried, Nick is panicking, and he's pressing down hard on Monroe's wound. His hair is disheveled from the fight, falling across his eyes in dark wisps, and there's a bruise forming on his cheek. His eyes are locked on Monroe's and he's talking to him but all Monroe can think about is the smell of alcohol. And Nick's eyes. God, they're beautiful and…whoa…he did not just think the words "beautiful" and "Nick" in the same sentence. Sure, the detective wasn't unattractive in any sense of the word but he was a man and he was a Grimm and Monroe was straight. Right? He'd been in love with Angelina and another girl named Emma in college and he certainly wasn't even remotely romantically interested in Nick.

Still, he appreciated beauty as much as the next person and right now Nick was beautiful. It probably had a lot to due with blood loss. His eyes are closing and he can't stop them and Nick is panicking again. God, it smells like rubbing alcohol in here…

Depressed

Its a Wednesday when it finally happens. Nick shows up at his door, somber and resigned, and tells him that Juliette left him. He tells him that she couldn't take the lies anymore, that he was keeping secrets from her, and that he'd changed too much. She said he was a different person, he was jumpy and paranoid all the time now. Nick hadn't told her about the Reapers that had been staking out the house for the past two weeks.

Monroe makes them some tea and listens quietly as Nick vents. He's never been very good at comforting but he's a good listener so that's what he does. Nick doesn't cry, doesn't shake his fist at the sky or curse God and everyone else. He's depressed, obviously, but he also seems to be in a state of acceptance like this had been coming for a while. His aunt had told him that being a Grimm was a difficult job and that his relationship would suffer in the end. Apparently, now was that time.

Monroe sips his tea, inhaling the scent of chamomile and orange peel and clove and there's something else that's just on the outside of his senses. Its like black licorice or anise, heavy and sweet and weighted. He doesn't even have to guess that its coming from Nick. He's gotten used to unconsciously looking out for the detective's scent no matter how strange that sounds. He's noticed that he can only pick it up if the younger man is in an pronounced emotional state and each time its something different. He's been keeping track but he still isn't sure if he should tell him. That's a conversation he's not sure how to start.

Its late now, close to midnight, and Monroe doesn't have the heart to turn Nick away a second time. He offers him the couch and despite that heavy licorice smell, Nick actually smiles. The detective is asleep within minutes and Monroe tries to ignore the tiny flip in his stomach at the idea of Nick sleeping only one room away from him. He doesn't think Nick if going to suddenly go batshit crazy and murder him in his sleep or anything but its getting harder and harder to ignore the little surges of adrenaline he feels when the detective is near him. What the hell is up with that? He finds it very hard to sleep that night.

Pain

Its taking every shred of self-control Monroe possesses not to wolf-out right now. Seriously, every fiber of his being is literally aching to be set free, the urges clawing at him from the inside with the viciousness of a feral dog. His fists are balled at his sides and his jaw is clenched so tight he can feel his teeth creaking together. He needs to keep it together…Nick needs help.

They're in the middle of nowhere, the trees high and dense overhead, and Nick is bleeding from a bullet wound in the leg. The hunter had gotten a lucky shot off, the bullet ricocheting off a tree and striking Nick in the thigh. Monroe was uncomfortably aware that the tree was probably the only thing that kept the bullet from hitting him in the chest. He'd seen Nick go down and had stopped to help but the detective told him to catch the hunter instead. That had been the easy part and the hunter was now tied and incapacitated a few feet away. The hard part was trying to tend to Nick without trying to rip his throat out in the process.

There's blood all over his jeans and its traveling down his leg and its red, red, red. The inner wolf is snarling in anticipation, primal instinct telling him the younger man is injured and its an easy kill and- shut up! He shakes his head forcefully, pressing his hands down over the wound and ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Nick. They're a mile away from the road and even though Nick is struggling to stand up, Monroe isn't sure he can make it all the way back to the car. He's not sure if the wolf can make it all the back to the car.

The wolf smells blood and sweat and pain and it's a hot smell, like electricity crackling through the air. Its vaguely metallic and it has nothing to do with the blood, its like ozone being stripped away. His jaws clench tightly and he unconsciously tightens his grip on the younger man's leg. He needs to cover the wound, cover up the smell of the blood and the red, red, red color.

In one fluid motion, he tears off the sleeve of his shirt and ties it painfully tight around Nick's leg. The detective is pale and trembling slightly and Monroe knows that if he passes out, the wolf will dive in for the kill. He jerks him up suddenly, before Nick is ready, and the younger man has to lean against him heavily to keep from falling. The wolf is growling again, a cacophony of blood lust and dominance and desire. Right now Monroe's honestly not sure if he wants to eat Nick or fuck him stupid. He feels like he should be surprised by that thought but honestly, he's not. He'll think about it later when Nick isn't bleeding and losing consciousness and the wolf isn't trying to tear its way out of him to get to the vulnerable Grimm. He turns in the direction of the car, leaving the unconscious hunter on the ground behind them.

Confused

When Monroe does finally break down and tell Nick about his ability to scent him, the detective is understandably confused. He doesn't freak out (which Monroe was expecting), or get angry (which Monroe was also expecting), he just sits and listens quietly as he tells him about the things he smells.

He tells him about the different cases they'd been on, how Nick had smelled a different way during each one. He tries to make is sound less creepy but there's just no getting around that; he's been smelling Nick every time the detective walked through the door for a few months now and it was becoming almost second nature to pick up on how he was feeling from one day to the next based on his scent.

Right now, Nick smells like cough syrup. Its sweet and sugary and medicinal as he listens and Monroe casually mentions this to him. Nick looks surprised for a minute before bursting out laughing. He laughs for a good five minutes, finally calming down enough to giggle and joke that he'd never been told he smelled like a pharmacy when he's confused. Monroe laughs a little at this and is somewhat relieved the detective hasn't run screaming for the hills yet. Maybe Nick has gotten a little more used to the weirdness that invaded his life only a few months ago. He can hope at least.

Sick

He refuses to admit he's worried. There has to be a perfectly good reason he hasn't seen or heard from Nick in over a week. He's relatively certain he hasn't done anything to piss him off or give him a reason to be avoiding him so that only leaves him one other conclusion: something was wrong. He contemplates a couple of different approaches for remedying this situation. Option A) call him. He'd tried that on Tuesday and hadn't gotten an answer. Option B) go up to the police station and ask his partner where he was. He'd done that on Wednesday and Hank had just told him Nick was off for a couple days. Option C) casually drive by Nick's house and see if he was home. He was still working up the nerve to do that.

Finally, after another full day passes without so much as a word from the detective, Monroe gets in his car and drives over to his house, parking in the driveway and walking up to the front door. He can smell sickness from the porch. He steps inside, frowning when he realizes the door is unlocked and that's completely unlike Nick.

The younger man is asleep on the couch, half covered with a limp fleece throw that's nearly crawled its way off the couch and onto the floor. He opens his eyes a little when Monroe crouches down next to him, smiling faintly. He has the flu, that much is certain, and he looks like fresh hell. His hair is damp with sweat and sticks to his forehead in some places and Monroe can feel the fever radiating from his skin from where he was sitting.

The whole room feels humid and stale and there's a smell somewhere between buttermilk and moldy bread hovering around Nick. Monroe makes a conscious decision not to tell him this for fear it will lead to some unpleasant ramifications. He wanders into the kitchen, snagging a dish rag from the drawer next to the sink and wetting it under the faucet. Nick flinches when the cold wetness touches his face but he relaxes after a second and lets Monroe press it against his forehead and neck. After a few more minutes, he falls asleep, his breathing steady if not a little congested.

Monroe sits down next to the couch and figures he'd better make himself comfortable. He's not going anywhere for a while.

Poison

He's really not sure how much she'd given him or how she'd even gotten it to him in the first place but if he ever sees her again, she's going to be in pieces in his back yard. Nick is curled on his side, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, and he's just about to go through another round of dry heaves. Monroe is at his side, absently rubbing his back with one hand and grinding Elora root with the other.

The poison isn't immediately fatal but it can be if something isn't done about it. It causes everything to contract violently, seizing up and leaving the person at its mercy. Its like having food poisoning on steroids. The victim eventually dies from dehydration because they're unable to keep anything down and it's a slow, painful process. He knows how to cure it, he's seen it before, but it took almost an entire day to find the ingredients he needed to dilute the poison in Nick's bloodstream.

The detective is pale and trembling on the bathroom floor, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. He smells like bleach and it has nothing to do with the fact that Monroe has had to disinfect the floor twice since Nick stumbled in that morning. The poison itself smells like ammonia but coming from Nick is smells like straight Clorox. Its disgusting and it makes his nose burn but he doesn't say anything.

He dumps the remaining root into a mug with the other ingredients and fills the cup with hot water. The mixture in the mug doesn't smell any better but he really doesn't care as long as it gets Nick to stop trying to heave up his liver.

Nick makes a face when he tries to hand him the cup and shakes his head and Monroe rolls his eyes. He scoops the Grimm off the bathroom floor and forces him to drink the foul smelling concoction. Nick coughs and sputters and curses him in every language he knows but the mixture does its job. It takes two full days for the smell of bleach to disappear as the poison works its way out of his system but Monroe doesn't complain. The alternative was dead so he goes for the former.

Content

Monroe doesn't know what to call it. Puppy love sounds stupid and true love sounds even worse but he can't ignore the fact that he's falling in love with Nick. He fought the notion tooth and nail for months before finally sighing in acceptance and realizing it wasn't going to go away no matter how much he pushed the ideas away.

Nick is on the couch next to him, eyes barely open as he watches the basketball game on TV. This had become a lot more common lately, especially now that Juliette was gone. Nick would come over to his house or he'd show up at Nick's and the two of them would spend the evening together. There was nothing sexual about it (the inner wolf bitched about that incessantly) but it was a nice way to spend their free time.

The room is warm and still and it smells like sugar cookies. Monroe knows its coming from Nick, he doesn't even question it anymore. When they're sitting like this, quiet and comfortable on the couch, Nick smells like vanilla and cinnamon. Its cute in a way, endearing certainly, and Monroe has told him this on at least one occasion. Nick simply smiles and the whole damn house smells like a fucking bakery.

Somehow, Nick squirms his way over until his head is resting on Monroe's shoulder and the blutbad freezes momentarily. This was not unexpected, it had happened before, but the inner wolf sends a jolt of electricity straight to his groin that says one thing: Want.

He refuses to take advantage of this situation for two reasons: first, he's not sure if Nick even wants that kind of relationship or if he's just being cuddly because he's still trying to get over Juliette. That thought stings like a band aid being ripped off but Monroe refuses to bring it up. Second, he knows that if he takes that plunge, there's not turning back. If he gives into the urges and lets the wolf take control, its all downhill from there. It was different with Angelina because if he lost control he wasn't afraid of hurting her, he knew she could take it. Nick was different though; Nick was human.

Nick's hair is tickling his neck and he's warm and pliable against Monroe's shoulder and dammit it smells like cookies. Monroe's pretty sure if he wasn't so close to ripping Nick's clothes off with his teeth that he'd be hungry. He forces himself to watch the game and ignore the sleeping Grimm on his shoulder.

Clean

He's not sure how much longer he can take it. If he doesn't do something about this situation with Nick soon, he's going to lose what little mind he has left. Its been getting increasingly harder to control himself and its even worse now because Nick is in the next room using his shower. He can feel the wolf snarling incredulously at him.

They'd gotten caught in the mud on the way back to the car, thick, boggy muck clinging to their clothes and skin. It was going to be hell getting it out of the upholstery but Monroe wasn't worried about that at the moment. He'd kindly offered Nick the first shower because he was pretty sure he'd break something if he had to be in the same room with him for more than a few more minutes.

His mind kept wandering to the shower, to where Nick was standing, wet and naked and slick. His pants are uncomfortably tight and he grips the edges of the counter top tightly as he struggles to contain himself. Nick was just a few feet away…Nick was naked…Nick…He hears him open the door and turns just in time to see the detective walk down the hall clad in nothing but a towel. Oh God dammit…

Nick is standing in the door of the kitchen, the towel hanging tantalizingly around his waist and tiny trickles of water still snaking their way down the planes of his chest. His hair is wet and falling across his eyes and there's a glint in them that he's never seen before. He smells like soap and hot water and everything clean and Monroe's fingers lose circulation from the grip he has on the counter.

Nick casually asks for some spare clothes but there's a tone in his voice, flirtatious, sexual, and inviting. Monroe knows he's going to have to get past him to get to the bedroom and maybe Nick is counting on that. He shakes his head sharply, catching a strong smell of shampoo that nearly drives him over the edge. Nick hasn't moved and Monroe is about to lose it completely.

He takes a staggering step toward the door and suddenly the Grimm is there, all dark eyes and desire, and Monroe can't take it anymore. Nick's mouth is on his, hot and forceful and demanding, and Monroe is demanding him right back. The towel falls to the floor and Monroe can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears.

Arousal

How they made it to the bedroom without killing each other is a minor miracle in and of itself. A chair in the hallway didn't share the same luck however and suffered a gruesome fate as a pile of firewood on the ground. There's deep scratch marks on the wall leading to the bedroom from Monroe and he knows he'll have to patch that up in the morning. Just like he knows he'll have to patch up the ripped couch cushion and cracked kitchen table as well.

Nick is under him, kissing and nipping at his skin, and Monroe can't get his clothes off fast enough. The blankets are a tangled mess around them, curled around wayward legs and arms, and they'll more than likely be shredded by the end of the night.

Monroe bites down on Nick's collarbone, harder than he means to, and the younger man gasps half out of pleasure and half out of pain. He doesn't break the skin, not quite, but he can smell the blood bursting from the capillaries and pooling just beneath the surface. He can smell Nick as well, a hot, heavy musk, primal and masculine, that screams sex.

There are hands everywhere and there's so much skin. His hands are pinning Nick to the bed and the detective is writhing and moaning beneath him. He can feel the younger man's erection pressing firmly into his hip and his grinds into him in response. Nick is gasping his name, soft and breathless and desperate, and Monroe can smell the tang of blood as his nails bite into the flesh of Nick's hands.

They establish some kind of rhythm but its sloppy and fast and hard. Monroe can't escape the deep, feral growl that rumbles somewhere deep behind his sternum as Nick gasps his name one more time before going rigid in release. Monroe finishes a few seconds later and for a minute they both just lay there, breathing hard and boneless. Eventually, he's able to pull away and he turns, gathering Nick in his arms and pulling him against his chest. He can still smell the shampoo in Nick's hair and mud clinging to his own skin but he's lost in exhaustion and the room darkens.

Nick

When Monroe opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the shredded curtains on the wall. He has no idea when that happened. The bed is a complete mess, pillows and sheets everywhere, and the room is humid and stale with the smell of sex. Nick is still asleep in his arms, his head tucked under Monroe's chin like a child. His dark hair is disheveled and mussed on top of his head and his eyelashes flicker a bit beneath closed lids. Monroe thinks he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

He nuzzles the top of Nick's head gently, breathing in a scent that's distinctly him. He smells like fresh cut grass and sunlight and trees and everything Monroe loves about being outside. Its like sleeping with a sunny Spring day in his bed. Nick is breathing slowly, his chest rise and falling in a gentle rhythm and Monroe can feel his heart beating steadily against his chest. There is no place in the world he'd rather be.

His thumb brushes over the darkened bruise on the younger man's collarbone, evidence of their fling the night before. He hopes it wasn't a fling, he'd never been much of a one night stand kind of person and he didn't know if he could take it if Nick was just looking for a one nighter.

The detective stirs slightly, eyes fluttering for a second before he opens them completely. He smiles at Monroe, warm and comfortable and loving. He tells him to go back to sleep and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before snuggling against him again. Monroe wants to laugh and cry all at the same time and tightens his hold on the man in his arms. He doesn't care if he's a Grimm, that's never mattered. All he cares about is Nick.

He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of warm sunshine and green grass, and holds Nick tightly.