Crashing Back to Reality
"Nick, it's... it's like one in the morning."
"Yeah. We just got back... Sorry to bother you."
Monroe blinked hard against the light of the entrance, peering out at the Grimm silhouetted against the rain. He didn't know why, but something just seemed off. He didn't realize what tipped him off until later.
"What... What are you doing here?" Monroe muttered, stretching and rubbing his eyes, before ushering Nick in quickly. "Shouldn't you be at home, crashing?"
Nick sank onto the steps.
"She said no."
Monroe looked at the Grimm in mild confusion. "No? What are you talking about, man?" He fished in his memory for a moment, trying to figure out... but, no. He couldn't recall anything that Nick may have been talking about. He was tired.
"Juliette," Nick breathed, slumping against the wall. He looked exhausted. "I asked her to marry me and she said no."
He had not seen that coming. He honestly had not seen that coming. He hadn't even known that Nick was going to... No. Just... Really? Marie Kessler had warned Nick against it, and he proposed to her?
It only proved what Monroe had already known: Nick was stubborn.
"Well," Nick continued, drawing Monroe out of his reverie. "She didn't say no, really, but it was more... that she couldn't do it right now."
"The whole 'it's not you, it's me' thing?" Monroe asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"Actually, no, just the opposite... She said she was..." Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "She said that she couldn't until I let her in."
"Oh."
Silence reigned in the stillness of the night. Monroe could hear the steady pitter-patter of the rain as it hit his roof.
He didn't know what to say.
"Uhh... Sorry, man." He rubbed the back of his head before shoving away from the wall and padding to the kitchen. The linoleum was cool against his feet and he shivered, grateful that he had, if not hot coffee, a microwave to make it hot.
He put some water in a mug for himself, and some cold coffee in another, setting both mugs into the microwave. He punched in two minutes and bustled around until he heard the telltale beeping. He pulled out both cups, plopping a teabag- chamomile tea, because he definitely could not handle coffee at one in the morning- in his before walking himself back to the staircase.
Nick hadn't moved.
"Here. Coffee. On the house."
Nick looked up slowly, almost frowning. He ended with a snort, taking the mug. "Thanks."
Good, progress. Some level of humour. He could run with that. He could work with that. "Yeah, no problem. Because I always, you know, make coffee at one in the morning."
"I bet you do, Monroe... I bet you do."
"Hey, what does that even mean?" he shot back. Well, this had taken a turn he hadn't looked for. As long as it cheered Nick up...
When Nick only smiled faintly, sipping at his coffee, Monroe, hesitantly, went on. "So, what are you going to do now...?"
"Well..." Nick cleared his throat. "I have to tell her. I mean... I can't keep all of this a secret anymore." The look of disdain on Monroe's face must have shown, because Nick reacted harshly after a glance at him. "What do you expect me to do? I love her, Monroe. Can't you understand that?"
"No," Monroe replied simply, shrugging. "No, I can't. Maybe, at one time, I could have, but now..."
"What wouldn't you do for Rosalee?" Nick monotoned. "What don't you do already?" he continued, suddenly looking very tired. Monroe felt awkward for reasons he didn't understand as he looked into the dregs of his tea. "Come on, man, I know how much time you spend at that shop with her. Tell me; what wouldn't you do for her?"
"That's not the same..." Monroe muttered, busying himself with his tea again. He was the one put on the spot and he didn't like it at all.
"It is the same, Monroe, just a difference in... species, y'know?"
"Ah, Nick..." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired. And, at the same time- and this was something that was very foreign to him- he had to play the supporting friend. "If... If you really love her, man, I guess only you are gonna know what to do. Just follow your gut. Only one person knows what you're going through and that's you. Either way, er, I hope things go well." There. There, he'd said something that didn't sound totally bogus.
... Oh, who was he kidding? It sounded totally bogus.
Nick laughed from his perch on the stairs and Monroe, awkward again, turned to head back to the kitchen.
"Hey, Monroe."
Hearing movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Thanks. For the warmed-over coffee and cheesy advice."
"Hey, I'm not at my best at one in the morning! Come by after eight and we'll be singing a different song."
Nick smiled warmly, passing back the empty mug. "Yeah, we'll see about that one... Go back to bed. I'll call you later."
"Right. Be careful. And, uh, Nick? Good luck. You'll need it."
"Thanks," Nick replied a bit sarcastically, letting himself out.
It wasn't until later, when Nick was long gone and Monroe was buried back in his bed that he realized what had irked the conversation. Nick had said sorry. Nick had said sorry and Nick had said thank you.
He mulled that for a quick second. But then he smiled. He didn't mind this friend thing so much, after all.
Seeing as how I hated how Grimm didn't put any emphasis on Nick telling Monroe [or Hank] about Juliette turning him down, I wrote this. Here's to new beginnings and better chances, Nick! [Even if I don't like Juliette, lol.]