Beta: ever_obsessed (LJ)
Characters + Pairing: Nick/Monroe, Nick/Juliette
Rating: PG-13-ish. (Nothing too adult, but not entirely safe.)
Some spoilers for Three Coins in a Fuchsbau (1.13). Takes place some hours after the episode.
Slash herein.
Several hours after three enslaving gold pieces had been hidden, Nick laid wide awake next to his lean, auburn headed love. Staring blankly at the dark ceiling, his mind cycled from the briefness of his grasp on the coins to how deeply they seemed to affect him. He told himself not to think about them, drifting to thoughts of Juliette, whether or not the ring he bought so many months ago should be returned. His mind snapped back to the coins, over again, and finally his mind pulled from the three relieved discs and landed on a familiar scruffy face.
Nick didn't care to look at the clock. Still in his pajamas, a plain blue tee and gray lounge pants, he bounded to his station wagon, pulling away from his and Juliette's residence. A silver van at a stealthy distance followed. The black haired detective took a breath, shaking his mind from the thoughts of coin-triplets once again. He pulled up to a familiar driveway, and parking on the street, stepped out. As he strode to the front door, hands tucked deeply in jacket pockets, the silver van stalled, lights out. A familiar auburn-haired woman silently opened the door, soundlessly treading toward Nick, stopping in a shaded spot to observe.
After a moment, the door opened. Nick entered, locking out the world with a barely audible clack. Juliette, unable to track her suspicious mate further, trailed back to her vehicle. She waited several minutes, taking note of the house and its surroundings before fleeing home.
Monroe, eyes hardly open and clothed in a set of red long-johns, hazily stared at the intruder.
Coyly, he stated, "If this is anything wesen-like, I always end up as the damsel in distress. So, yeah, before you say anything, let me know what color works best with my complexion so I can pick out a lovely dress."
Nick smirked, shaking his head slightly. "It really isn't."
The detective crossed into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and rummaged through. Still at the doorway, Monroe gazed inquisitively toward the refrigerator. "That's... unusual for you."
"Is that tuna? I thought you were vegetarian," Nick stated, muffled somewhat by the open cooler. Monroe headed to the kitchen. "Yeah, I am, except Wednesdays, Saturdays, and when I crave a really good tuna melt." The Blutbad closed the fridge, observing the charcoal-haired man with disbelief.
"What's with the red onesie?"
Monroe looked down at himself. "Oh, these. These are my celebratory pair. Yesterday was the anniversary of the day I committed to quit mauling things. You know, animals, people... other wesen."
Nick nodded.
Baffled, Monroe asked, "So if you're not here about us 'creatures,' why are you here?"
For the first time that night, Nick looked directly into Monroe's eyes. "I felt like it." Monroe nearly jolted. Both maintained silence for a minute, until Nick asked for beer. Monroe, still taken aback, responded:
"Innit too early for alcohol?" He squinted, eying the detective. He gave a vague shrug, opening the fridge to grab two beers. "You have to get home sometime, so don't get too smashed."
"You know, Monroe; when you're being sarcastic, you do this cross-eyed thing."
"For real?" Monroe sputtered. Being completely secure wasn't his strong suit, but such a strange detail wasn't something he expected nor wanted Nick to notice. Nick affirmed, smirking.
"Fine, beer." Monroe thrust a brown bottle into his harrier's hand. Deadpanned, he inquired, "So what's bothering you?"
After a brief conversation about the three coins, Nick describing how neurotic the coins made him feel, the pattern of ownership, and the history, the conversation trailed off into sipping beer, quick glances and confronting gazes. The muted minutes that followed consisted of both men advancing slowly toward one another, narrowing the gap between them.
"Well, Nick, I gotta tell you," Monroe interjected, musing, "If this is going somewhere, I should let you know, I have exactly zero condoms and I don't usually have a reason to stock up. It's been a while since I've knocked steins with anyone if you know what I mean."
Nick let out a feral laugh. Monroe's eyes widened. "But I also have to mention that I've been somewhat afraid of other guys parts from the moment I first saw a lamprey."
The Grimm wrapped his right hand around the Blutbad's arm. Awkwardly, the other man leaned into the grasp. A beat later, Monroe started, "This probably isn't illegal, right?"
"Illegal? I doubt it. Taboo, maybe." Nick smirked.
"What's more taboo, that you're a Grimm and I'm a Blutbad, or that we're both guys?"
A few minutes later, two half empty bottles joined the trash bin. Nick clumsily leaned in, gracelessly hugging his new confidant. After a quick drive home and brew still on his breath, he entered his home to find lights on and Juliette still waiting. He'd barely closed the door before she began.
Disturbed, she confronted him. "I followed you."
Nick stood in the doorway, a hole being burned through him by his girlfriend. He said nothing.
"Are you cheating on me?"
The detective broke eye contact, sitting. "What makes you say that?"
"I saw her car. The yellow antique beetle," Juliette fumed. "How long?"
"I'm not cheating on you. That's a friend's car. I needed someone to talk to about guy stuff."
"That's it? You're really not... Oh." A faint smile crept across her face.
She thought, recalling the ring she'd found weeks prior. "I didn't want to ask, but... I found a ring in your sock drawer."
It rushed back to Nick. The night all this Grimm-stuff started, he was going to propose to her. Excitedly, he burst from the chair, darting to the bedroom. "I'll be right back," he exclaimed. Almost an instant later, he raced back down the hall with a small velvet box in his hands. On one knee, he proposed. She said yes immediately, giddily laughing with teary eyes. The twosome roughly kissed.
After a minute of gazing at each other, they ambled to the bedroom and slipped under the sheets. The auburn-haired miss dozed off quickly, leaving her now betrothed still very much awake, not thinking about tokens, but instead about what transpired between Monroe, Juliette, and himself. Guilt began to pry away at him.