Personal Information Should Stay Personal!

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Monroe sighed irritably, tossing his tools down on the desk. He pressed two fingers to his temples, before running his fingers through his hair haphazardly and hauling himself to his feet.

Nick had the uncanny ability of showing up when Monroe didn't want him around.

He wrenched open the doorway with some huffiness; he had a headache and his eyes hurt from his intent concentration on his latest project. Nick was leaning against the door, the perfect picture of ease, an easy smile on his face and eyes bright with a certain kind of excitement that made Monroe almost forget his headache. Nick didn't have that look in his eye if he was here on a case, which was nearly ninety-seven percent of the time, so Monroe was mentally questioning the point of this visit.

"... What?" he questioned with some reluctance and mild curiosity.

"Happy birthday!" Nick responded cheerfully, leaving Monroe at a loss of words. He was sure that he hadn't... No, he wouldn't have mentioned it. He didn't celebrate with anyone else. Why would he have mentioned it? Taking advantage of the shocked moment, Nick had pushed past the Blutbad with a gentle slap to the shoulder and a "How old are you now, buddy?" comment that Monroe severely suspected that Nick already knew the answer to.

"You were snooping through files again!" Monroe hissed, bristling. He wasn't really angry, well, maybe just a little, but it felt weird when he knew Nick had access to his whole life story. "Personal information should stay personal!"

"But it's your birthday, and you didn't tell me," Nick responded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "And, for the record, I made a note of it back during the case with Robin Howell."

"You can not have remembered it! That case, the kidnapped girl?" he asked for clarification, to which Nick nodded over his coffee. "That was a long time ago!"

"Like I said, I made a note. Wrote it on the calendar," Nick replied, tapping Monroe's wall calendar for emphasis.

Oh, he thought it was funny. He thought he was real smart, picking up these little details. But it was only because he was a cop. It was only because he had had his folder out on a case before.

"Alright, fine. It's my birthday. Thanks," he added begrudgingly, scooping up his oven mitts off the counter, "for the... well wishes." He walked to the oven and cracked it open, pleased to find the top of his latest kitchen endeavour golden brown.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Cake, Nick," he mumbled, abashed for no reason. "Just cake." He gripped the sides of the pan and carefully slide the pan out, setting it ontop the range to cool.

"Oh! You make your own cake. It looks good." Nick had come forward to investigate, but Monroe just waved him away.

"Stay back. It's still hot and I haven't iced it. Stick around and I'll give you a piece. But, no singing. I just, I won't have it, Nick. You can have cake and celebrate," he said the word with such an air that even he could hear the metaphorical quotation marks around it, "my birthday, but no singing."

"Darn, that's just what I wanted to do, too."

Monroe rolled his eyes, despositing the mitts on the table top before turning back to the cake. It had turned out all right, after all. It smelled wonderful, at the very least.

"Hey."

Monroe glanced at Nick, trying to form the what now? question in his eyes before he stopped. Nick had extended a poorly wrapped item at him, waiting expectantly. Monroe opened his mouth to say something before he shut it, taking the present. "I'm only accepting this because you owe me, like, a hundred," he added before peeling the paper back.

It was a pocket watch.

"I found in it the attic a few weeks back. It doesn't work, and I don't know if it ever will, actually, but I figured, if anybody could find use in it, it'd be you. You're obviously a fan of clocks and it'll give you something to do when you're bored."

"... Huh." He turned the golden, albeit dusty, pocket watch over in his hand, weighing the small beauty experimentally. It had to be real gold, gold plated, that was. It was scratched; his trained fingers found the dents easily, but he didn't mind. It was a vintage, from maybe sometime in the Renaissance? It was hard to tell just by looking, he'd need to study it a bit more... "That's cool," he found himself saying, flipping it open. "I like it." Nick chuckled at his side, and Monroe could almost hear the Grimm's eyes rolling. "What?" he demanded, looking towards the detective.

"You like it. That's good." There was a little smile playing along Nick's lips, though, and Monroe wasn't quite sure what it meant, but with topics such as cooling cake and pocket watches and actually celebrating his birthday with someone else made him not want to question it. He just stole another glance at the watch- he'd really have to get into it later, he'd love to make that baby run- before setting it aside, pulling open the fridge to grab his chilled bowl of homemade frosting.

Maybe... once in awhile... he didn't mind if his personal space was invaded.

But only on his birthday. And only if he got a vintage clock out of it everytime.

That was enough for him.

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you... Haha, hope you all enjoyed it!

R&R would be much appreciated!