A/N: Named after one of my favourite songs by Emiliana Torrini.
Tick, Tock
This clockwork will stop
You're the key for winding up my heart
Brick, Brack
If you don't wind me up
The sky will lie upon me like a passed out drunk
Without you I would never rise again
(Emiliana Torrini – Big Jumps)
Nick was a little boy once again. He was lying in his parents' bed on a lazy Sunday morning and his mother was threading fingers through his hair and telling him fairy tales he'd never thought would become reality one day. There was a comforting noise in the background, a steady buzzing and humming. It almost lulled him back into a deeper, darker sleep, were it not for the rhythmic beeping that punctured it. Cold electric light was seeping through Nick's eyelids, and after a while he lifted them, realising that he wasn't lying in his parents' bed. In fact, he wasn't lying at all. But the fingers stroking his hair, that part was real.
The detective reached up, capturing Monroe's hand in his own. Well, that rather small part of Monroe's hand that wasn't covered up by a cast.
"Hey, you're awake.. thank God."
Their eyes met, like every morning, but it had never meant so much before.
"No, you're awake, sleeping beauty, I've been up for an hour now."
Nick sat up and stretched with a groan. It had been a while since he'd spent a night like this. He'd slept sitting on a chair with his face in his elbow and his arm resting on Monroe's firm hospital bed. But his own discomfort was nothing compared to what the clockmaker had to be feeling right now. Just looking at his lover made Nick's guts twist in pain. The Blutbad's head was all bandaged up, hiding his hair, which in itself was a crime to nature, and he was sporting two impressive black eyes in addition to his own brown ones. In fact, Monroe's whole face was cut and swollen. His nose was covered up by a plaster and both his arms stuck in casts of various sizes, leaving the elbow area free on one side to allow for the drip. The Grimm opened his mouth to ask a silly question – but Monroe beat him to it.
"What the ever-loving hell are you doing here, Nick? Did you really spend the whole night here?"
"Of course I did", the detective confirmed grumpily.
"Well, you shouldn't have, they're gonna patch me up alright.."
Monroe lifted the two solid white sausages that now constituted his arms and inspected them with disgust.
"You should have gone home."
"Are you stupid?" Nick shook his head vehemently. "I couldn't just leave you! I needed to be here when you wake up. So I can shout at you."
"And they let you sleep on the ward?"
"Obviously. I said I'm your brother."
"Really? They believed you?"
Monroe attempted to raise an eyebrow but found that the muscles in his face were refusing to move in their usual fashion.
"We look nothing alike."
Despite the pain that was slowly spreading through his body as the drugs were wearing off Monroe felt a little sting. He understood perfectly well why Nick had said that. Hospitals were generally strict when it came to overnight visitors and while, politically, America had made some progress with regards to non-traditional relationships it took more than that to change people's attitudes. It was a much safer bet to say they were related. Of course, Nick could have just waved his police badge. But then the hospital staff might have thought Monroe was a particularly dangerous axe murderer, since he needed monitoring even when half dead. So he was grateful Nick didn't choose that option. And still, it fit the pattern that even after half a year the Grimm was still keeping the true nature of their relationship a secret. Which Monroe did not mind at all. As he had to keep reminding himself. Quite often.
"Well.. maybe I'm adopted."
Nick smiled faintly, the upwards curve of his lips melting away all those unhelpful thoughts. The clockmaker tried to sit up in order to get a little closer, and instantly a ball of agony erupted in his chest from where the pain sparked along every single nerve in his system. Monroe froze and clenched his jaw, desperately trying to avoid making a sound. He didn't want to alarm Nick even more. He could already tell the detective was quite upset with him.
"That bad?"
"Ah, you know..", he pressed out through gritted teeth, "just a twitch."
Judging by the expression on Monroe's face, when he said 'twitch' he meant that he was about to faint.
"I'll call the doctor", Nick reached for the red button, "they'll give you something."
"No, wait.."
Monroe very, very cautiously moved his hand to place it on Nick's wrist. As long as he didn't shift his torso it was bearable.
"Can we be alone, just five more minutes?"
He attempted a smile of his own. He wasn't sure how that went.
"Alright."
Nick mustered him skeptically. Well, at least one of them was making good use of his eyebrows. And then, with his other hand, the detective reached down to get something out a bag and plant it in the middle of the bedside table. It was the twin bell alarm clock from their bedroom. This was the moment Monroe noticed that the soulless digital one that used to be in its place had been unplugged and moved to the edge of the table. The rush of pain in his body was subsiding and all he could feel now was warmth and gratitude.
"Five minutes. They'll need to check you over again, in your condition.."
Monroe was angry at himself for his earlier discontent. What did it matter what words the detective chose to describe their relationship to third parties? The important thing was that Nick was here, with him, that he'd stayed at his bedside the whole night, watching over him. Well, sleeping over him, more like, but still, what more could Monroe ever want from life?
"What condition am I in then?" He asked, almost cheerfully. "Come on, give me the lowdown."
"Well.."
Nick reached into his pocket.
".. you asked for it.."
He pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolded it. Then unfolded it once again.
".. I've got a list", he explained in response to the Blutbad's concerned look. "Let's see. Concussion. Seven cuts that needed stitching. Some more that didn't. You've lost a lot of blood. Broken nose.."
"I can tell", Monroe grumbled, "this is the worst part."
".. your collarbone is broken too. Four cracked rips.."
That explained the pain in his chest.
".. haematomas. A couple of dislocated fingers. But doc said it will heal alright. You'll still be able to do your clock thing.."
Monroe was pretty impressed Nick had asked specifically about that. He looked at his boyfriend with boundless affection and missed a couple of items from the list. He was definitely doing better on the smiles front now.
".. fractured wrist. On the other side. And.. oh.. er.. seems I skipped this one before.."
"What is it, Nick?"
The detective's apparent embarrassment was making him a little nervous.
"Says here you've also broken your pubic bone. How the hell do you even do that."
"Oh, it will be alright", Monroe reassured him. There was a hint of incongruous smugness in his voice. "It won't affect anything once it's healed."
"That's not what I'm concerned about", Nick snapped, red-faced. "You've broken bones I didn't even know existed."
"At least you got a free anatomy lesson."
"That's really not funny, Monroe, you're seriously hurt!"
The Blutbad sighed, squeezing Nick's hand. As much as he was able to squeeze anything.
"Don't worry, honestly dude, I'll be fine. You know when sometimes you read in the papers how someone's recovered from injuries pretty quickly and doctors talk about miraculous healing and all that?"
"And?"
"I'm pretty sure, at least half the time they're talking about Blutbaden", Monroe explained, not without pride. "We're better at healing than humans. Well. We're also better at hurting than humans."
"I could see that", Nick muttered under his breath.
"Seems only fair."
"Still, you'll have to stay in the hospital for at least a week. They're not sure about internal injuries yet."
At this point Monroe noticed that in addition to all his other restrictions he was also unable to shrug in a sufficiently expressive manner. So he had to use words instead.
"I don't mind man, as long as you're visiting me and bringing me proper food. Hey, did you hear 'Wolf and Hare' are doing take-away now?"
"Stop joking around!"
"I would never joke about their heavenly avocado soufflé."
"Do you ever stop thinking about food?!"
"No, not really."
Nick sighed and remained silent for a moment. Uh oh. It was approaching. The talk. Monroe could see it on the Grimm's stern face.
"Stop distracting, Monroe. I'm really angry with you. What was that all about? I had my gun. I had the Doppelarmbrust ready. There was no need for this. What were you even thinking?"
"Uh", the Bludbad tried cautiously, "maybe I wasn't thinking?"
"Yes. I know you weren't. They were probably about to surrender, and then you just jump in and attack them. You killed four of them on your own, for God's sake!"
"Oops. Sorry."
"We were going to bring them in for questioning, remember? Not rip them into pieces!"
"Yeah. And we thought there would be two, not five. It was a trap. You don't know Schackals like I do. They're eating babies, man! They were never going to surrender. They wanted to kill you, Nicky. I could see it in their evil little eyes. They were about to.."
The next couple of words came out in a snarl. Nick quickly intervened when a surge of red flooded the Blutbad's eyes.
"Hey hey hey, alright, chill out, it's over", he put a calming hand on his lover's shoulder. "You're not supposed to move or get agitated."
Monroe obeyed, leaning back and taking a deep breath.
"And be it as it may, I'm not a baby, Monroe! I'm a Grimm. I can take pretty good care of myself."
"I know Nick, I know", the clockmaker sighed. "I mean, with my brain I know all of that. But when I see that someone's about to hurt you it's like my brain's just packing up and going on vacation and all I wanna do is rip out throats. Sorry man."
There was such a stark contrast between the violent content of Monroe's words and the apologetic, sheepish expression on his face it was almost comical. Nick could not help but chuckle and shake his head.
"That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"Yeah?" Monroe made a mock-disappointed face. "I really need to up my game then."
They both gave a short laugh, but almost instantly all amusement was dissipating from Nick's face and he was serious once again.
"You know, we can't do this kind of thing together anymore, if you can't control yourself.."
"No no no, don't say that, Nick!" Monroe gave him his most persuasive puppy dog eyes. "I love going all Starsky and Hutch on naughty Wesen asses with you. I'll learn to hold back, I promise."
Nick gave a vague grumbling sound and rolled his shoulders. He had to admit he quite enjoyed it too. For any regular couple, investigating crimes together would have been a rather peculiar way to bond. But for a highly irregular Grimm-Blutbad couple it was perfect. Though Monroe was usually in charge of all the research and the tracking, and making sure that whoever they were chasing didn't get away. He preferred to stay in the background to avoid doing his species name justice. Nick had never seen him like this before. Well, they'd never been in such serious danger before. Yesterday, at that abandoned industrial estate, Monroe was like a god. A god of total destruction. He took a big jump, and then all Nick could see was a cloud of red and body parts flying through the air. Parts that weren't attached to their bodies any longer. Later, in the police report, Nick read that his colleagues had been picking up limbs a hundred metres away. Everything was happening so fast, and wasn't at all what they'd agreed would happen. Nick was so stunned it took a little while until he managed to join in. By then it was almost over. There was only one guy left for him, and Monroe was just standing there, breathing out growls, all wild and hairy. Blood was running down his chin and claws, building a little pool at his feet. Nick was well aware that dating a latent killing machine should freak him the hell out. But it didn't. Monroe was so damn strong, and here to protect him against any imaginable evil in the world. He thought it was hot as fuck. Until the Blutbad collapsed in a wet heap on the ground. Nick's heart was collapsing too, and that part wasn't hot at all.
He scrunched up his face at the painful and way too recent memory.
"I can't loose you, Monroe."
Nick very gently picked up the clockmaker's hand, brought it up and held his face into the fingers that weren't bandaged. Monroe stared at him in surprise. Such tender expressions of affection weren't really Nick's territory.
"When.. when you were lying there and I thought you might die, I just.. I couldn't even breathe, I -"
The clockmaker felt his chest tighten. Seeing Nick so genuinely upset hurt more than the broken ribs.
"Hey, come on man, it's really not that bad." He just wanted to say something, anything, to lighten the mood. "And even if I'd died, you would have found someone else soon. I mean, you're pretty enough, it's -"
"Oh, shut up, you idiot!"
Nick let go of his hand, and the sudden sharpness in the detective's voice cut him off almost literally.
"I love you, you know?" Nick barked. "And I'm not pretty!"
Monroe exhaled. It was just like that deeply satisfying feeling whenever he inserted the last missing screw into its proper place inside a complex clockwork and suddenly all of that dead machinery sprung to life, and worked, and was whole again. Only this was a million times better. He'd been waiting for Nick to tell him that for so long. Every hour of every single day for six endless months. But so far, all he'd been getting when telling Nick he loved him were suboptimal responses such as "that's nice" or "I know" or even "hey, those 'duffy noise' potatoes are really good, can I have some more?". He never pushed it though. He knew how much that meant to Nick, saying those words. It was a huge jump for Nick, a leap of faith.
Monroe laughed out, leaning back into the pillows – but hardly noticing their soft support against his back. He felt like flying. There was obviously a sufficient amount of drugs in his system still.
"Well, Nick, if I'd known it takes this much for you to say that you love me I would have hired a couple of Schakals to beat me up a long time ago."
"Still not funny", Nick pouted and looked down at the bed sheet. The blush on his cheeks really suited his boyish appearance and almost made him look like a teenager who'd been caught exchanging little hand-written love notes in class.
"Hey", the clockmaker reached out to brush his hand through his boyfriend's hair. What he actually achieved was to clumsily rub his cast against Nick's scalp. "I love you so much it hurts more than any stupid fracture I'll ever have in my life. Uh. In a good way, I mean."
Nick looked up, giving him one of those crooked smiles that Monroe adored.
"And you really don't need to worry man. I'll be here to love you for a long, long time."
He grinned.
"Even if you're adopted."
A/N 2: Please review! :)
I will write at least two more Nickroe one-shots. One will be called "Out" (guess what this one will be about ;)), the other will be called "Why Monroe hates his birthday and how he learns to love it".
(P.S.: If you're reading "The Line" or "Unconditional" - I've started the next chapter for both, but I've also gone back to work, so it might take a while to update..)