A/N: So yes I'm cheating on my OTP with this little three-way number, but I think you can still tell I'm a Nickroe kind of girl. (The way I've written Rosalee she seems like a bit of a sex slave.) (Oops.) (Sorry Rosalee, that wasn't the intention.)

Starts out with the obligatory angst but goes fluffy and cheesy later on. Hope you've brought grapes to go with all that cheese.

Inspired by my conversation with Markala and the S4 finale because who else can Nick possibly be with? Monrosanick should be canon. Please someone make Monrosanick canon!

"You should try to eat, Nick. You haven't eaten all day."

"Yeah man, I've made pancakes just the way you like them, no quinoa, just a ton of sugar." Monroe had just finished cooking and was pulling the apron over his head. "I know it's dinner time, but I thought we need some comfort food, right?"

Nick shook his head and continued to follow the convoluted geometric patterns on the coffee table with his eyes.

"I'm sorry, guys."

He couldn't eat. The thought alone was making him want to puke his guts out, and neither Rosalee's concerned tone nor Monroe's heroic attempts at being his usual jocular self were going to change that. He was unable to stomach more than half a bottle of beer either. Nick had been crying all day, and now he couldn't even do that. It was a struggle to just keep breathing.

"You know, it's not gonna do anyone much good if you starve yourself."

Nick sighed as Monroe placed the plate with the pancakes on the table in front of him.

"What good am I anyway? My mother.. and my girlfriend.. they're both dead because of m-"

"No no no, you can't even think like that, Nick!" Rosalee stopped him, leaning over from where she was sat next to him on the sofa and curling an arm around his shoulders. "Listen to me. None of this is your fault!"

"Of course it is, if I hadn't been so selfish to want to be a Grimm again.."

".. then I wouldn't be here, Nick", the Blutbad noted, "I would be impaled on a rusty spike somewhere in the - ."

"Monroe", Rosalee chided him.

"Sorry. I'm just saying, think of all the lives you saved being who you are. There's nothing selfish about that. And wasn't it Juliette who said that you needed to be a Grimm again?"

"Yes, but she only did it for me.."

"Yeah, and you did everything you could for her. Dude, we dug up and half-cooked a rotting corpse trying to help her! What else could you possibly have done? It was Juliette's personal choice to evil out."

"And now she's dead!" Nick sobbed, hiding his face in his hands. "I thought we would have kids one day.. I really thought.."

He felt Rosalee's arm tighten around his frame, and then Monroe's weight sank into the sofa on his other side.

"Nick", the Blutbad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder blade, just below Rosalee's much smaller one. "Juliette was about to kill you man. Don't keep trying to be the Romeo in this whole thing."

"Well, maybe Trubel should have let her..", the detective whispered into his palms, ".. if I were dead then -"

Rosalee did not let him finish, wrapping her other arm around him and pulling him against her chest.

"Don't, Nick."

"Why not", the young man mumbled, instinctively clasping the smooth fabric at the Fuchsbau's waist. "I've got nothing left, I've got no one left.."

"Well, that's not true", Rosalee was lightly stroking along his spine and Nick could feel her other hand meeting Monroe's, their fingers interlacing on his back. "You've still got us. We still care for you, and we're not going anywhere."

He exhaled, pressing his forehead into Rosalee's neck. He wasn't used to that much intimacy with his Wesen friends – or with any of his friends for that matter – but it was wonderful to be touched with such genuine affection, and it made the emptiness inside him feel a little less dark. Slowly, his guilt was shifting into a different direction.

"I'm sorry, you're right", he muttered, "I can't thank you both enough for letting me stay.. and for cleaning my place, I think I'll be able to go back tomorrow. Then I'll stop intruding on you."

"You're not intruding, Nick", Monroe reassured him, his voice soft in the detective's ear, making him realise how close they all were. Nick gave a small chuckle that sounded more like a sob.

"Thanks, but I know I am."

Surely, the clockmaker would have much preferred to be sitting next to Rosalee right now, without him being stuck in the middle. This was already the second night he was staying with them, occupying their sofa, the second night after Kelly's and Juliette's death.

"I'm always intruding, Monroe."

He still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the fact that his friend wasn't the same awkward yet weirdly amiable loner he'd met four years ago. Back then, Nick had no qualms about pushing himself into the Blutbad's life because, well, it wasn't like Monroe had anything better to do with his free time. Back then, Nick was in a perfect relationship and actually felt sorry for his friend at times. And now the tables had been turned completely, Monroe was a different man altogether, he even seemed to have grown more and more handsome over the years. Obviously, being with Rosalee became him, which was no surprise. The Fuchsbau was the kindest, most accepting person Nick had ever met, she had a talent for bringing out the best in people. Her and Monroe were great together and Nick had nothing but love and respect for both of them. He needed to stop interfering with their marital bliss.

"You know, you guys should really go to bed, I'll be fine down here, I'll just.."

He tried to wriggle out of Rosalee's embrace, starting to feel a little uncomfortable being hugged by his best mate's wife like this, all whilst Monroe was sitting right next to him.

"What about you, Nick?" Those arms were holding him gently yet firmly, not allowing him to withdraw. "Have you slept at all last night?"

The detective shook his head. That was his intention at least. What he actually accomplished was rubbing his face against Rosalee's collarbone, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin, not unlike the pleasant, familiar smell that lingered in the Spice Shop. He was holding on to it for dear life, trying to push away the images that were flooding him.

"I can't..", he clenched his teeth, inadvertently pulling at the Fuchsbau's blouse between his fists, ".. every time I close my eyes, I-.. I see my mother's head and.. Oh God.. I can't.. I just can't.."

Once again his mind was dipped in dark, gooey blood and he was already sinking when he felt warm lips pressed against his, lifting him out of those numbingly cold depths and stopping him from drowning. Nick froze – though that term seemed thoroughly inaccurate, no, what he felt was the exact opposite of freezing, but he did hold still, and Rosalee wasn't moving either, as if wishing to give him something else to hold on to, something more substantial than just her smell.

It was slowly, very slowly that the detective's grey matter started to regain some of its processing powers, and then from one moment to the next he realised what was happening and jerked away, unable to escape completely as he instantly bumped into another body.

"Oh God", Nick stammered, "How did this- I don't even know how this happened, Monroe, I honestly don't -"

He whirled around, fully expecting to be punched; as friendly as him and the Blutbad were, this was still completely unforgivable. Yet what made contact with his mouth was not a fist. It was another pair of lips, hotter than the first one, rougher, too, but not disagreeably so.

This time Nick was able to react a little faster, speechless as he backed off just enough to stare into a pair of expressive brown eyes glowing with such sincere emotion it almost choked him. He'd never noticed that kind of depth in Monroe's eyes before, and all he managed to do was mumble something inarticulate along the lines of "Eh?" before the clockmaker wrapped a hand around his neck and gently drew him in, their lips meeting once again.

By now Nick had given up wondering what was going on, or why. His brain seemed to have finally reached a point where it could no longer be bothered to react with shock or even surprise. All he got from it was the neural equivalent of a shrug, then a tentative nod as Monroe added a little more pressure to this innocent, closed-mouth smooch, cradling the detective's face in his big, warm hands.

He did not let go of it even as he ended the kiss, lightly sucking on Nick's lips before withdrawing.

"Nick, look at me."

It was only now the detective realised his eyes were closed, and despite what he'd been saying earlier he was not thinking about his mother's head in a cardboard box right now. Instead, his mind was filled to the brim with Monroe. And Rosalee too, who was leaning into him, her soft chest against his back, arms wrapped around his middle.

".. Monroe..", he cleared his throat, opening his eyes – and instantly losing himself in the intensity of the Blutbad's gaze, ".. what is.."

"There are people who love you Nick", Monroe was tenderly stroking the Grimm's cheeks with his thumbs, "who would go to the end of the world for you. Like your mother. She wanted to protect you, and if given the choice I'm sure she would do it all over again. Like me and Rosalee would too. Because that's just how love works, and if we don't try and protect our loved ones what's even the point? We all have to live with that. So don't you wish yourself dead. Don't you ever say that again, ever, you understand?"

"Hn", Nick opined, hopelessly overwhelmed. Monroe had never been one to shy away from talking about feeling, but.. did the clockmaker just tell him that he loved him? Well, that wasn't big news, of course, they were close friends, the three of them, so, naturally, they all held deep affection for each other. But using those exact words, especially after kissing him, on the mouth, that was just..

"Come here.."

Nick's thoughts trailed off as he was pulled into another hug, only this time he ended up pressed into Monroe's chest, the thick woolen fabric of the Blutbad's cardigan tickling his nose. He felt his eyelids fall shut against his friend's shoulder as he melted into the heat of two bodies enveloping him. It was seeping through his skin, matching the heat of Monroe's quietly passionate words inside him, and for the first time in the last thirty-six hours or so Nick was actually aware that he was still alive, that he still had a heart that could beat pretty fast and a stomach that could flutter when Rosalee's small hands started to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, stroking him underneath the fabric. That his mind was not too numb to form a wish.

Oddly and inexplicably, what it wished for this very moment, more than anything else, was to kiss Monroe once again. And as insane as that was, it was in no way crazier than anything else that had happened to his life lately. At least, for a change, this was a crazy thing he actually wanted to happen.

Little by little, Nick relaxed his grip on Monroe's cardigan, cautiously winding his sweaty hands around the Blutbad's comfortingly solid frame. And then, slowly, he let his face slide up along his friend's neck, breathing in his scent, as much as he was able to breathe at all. It was not as sweet as Rosalee's, but strangely soothing and, somehow, nostalgic, like the smell of well-loved books and wooden toys.

Yet once they were cheek to cheek Nick paused, nervously fingering the coarse fabric at Monroe's back. It was such a bizarre situation. Maybe, Monroe's earlier kiss had just been friendly and wasn't asking for any follow-ups. Yet Rosalee had just finished unbuttoning his shirt, and then he received an approving little squeeze where Monroe's hands were resting on his waist, lightly yet steadily. It was enough to make Nick inch sideways until he could pull the clockmaker's lower lip into his mouth in what was most probably not just friendly contact any longer. Though he really had no idea what it was, he'd certainly never kissed a guy before, let alone a married guy who, incidentally, happened to be his best mate.

And yet, this wasn't nearly as weird as kissing Juliette had been ever since the day of Monroe's and Rosalee's wedding, even if not taking into account that evening when she was blonde. There had always been a hint of passive aggression and unspoken reproach lurking in the background, despite Juliette claiming to have forgiven him for the fact he'd been, for all intents and purposes, assaulted by Adalind.

No, there was nothing at all uncomfortable about the way Monroe's mouth was brushing against his, gently tugging at his lips, obviously in no hurry to turn this into a French kiss. Or the way Rosalee slid his shirt down his shoulders just enough to softly suck on his neck, giving him goosebumps the size of a Jinnamuru Xunte's eye at a time where he thought he wouldn't be able to feel anything ever again. It made him remember all the times he was a little ashamed watching his friends kiss, not only because, for some reason, he found himself wondering how that felt, but also because he couldn't help being jealous. He'd always put it down to the fact that what Monroe and Rosalee had was so damn perfect, so effortlessly harmonious, and they were already married, whereas his own, much longer relationship seemed to be falling apart a little more every day. But maybe there had always been more to it. Well, he was in no shape to analyse the situation in any depth right now. The one thing he knew for sure was that whatever the fuck they were doing here it felt good, better than anything that had happened to him lately, and that he wanted to touch Monroe's hair, he'd always wanted to touch Monroe's hair, that wild, unruly mess of dark curls. And now he could, and it felt wonderful between his fingers, thick and pliant and not too soft.

There was a hand in his own hair too, but it wasn't Monroe's. Nick could feel it slide down to his chin and then his face was being carefully turned to the side and Rosalee's lips took over, much more animated than the first time. Suddenly, she was sat on his lap and Nick clawed his hands into the sofa cushion, not daring to touch her, but hardly able to stop her either. He was just a guy after all, and Rosalee was beautiful and heavy against his body in the best possible way, taking away that horrible, detached feeling he'd been suffering all day and replacing it with the good kind of light-headedness. The detective was disappointed when he was finally given the opportunity to breathe, because who the hell needed tobreathe, but then his mind quickly found a new focus when Rosalee leaned across to kiss her husband, just inches away from Nick's face. He'd never seen two people making out from up that close, and this was a full-on, all-stops-pulled-out, proper (or, rather, improper) type of kiss. He could only stare, open-mouthed, unable to peel his eyes away from their tongues rolling against each other and suddenly realising he was incredibly aroused and there was absolutely no way Rosalee would not be aware of that. As if to confirm his suspicions the Fuchsbau was rotating her hips against him ever so slightly, all whilst still lip-locked with Monroe, and even that barely noticeable little movement provided enough friction to make the young man's skin burn with lust and embarrassment, and the desperate need for one of them to be snogging him like this. Both of them, preferably.

Nick did not quite get his way when Rosalee returned her attention to his person, eyes sparkling at him for a brief moment before she leaned down and began kissing along his neck and bared chest, down his stomach, the dark line of hair that led south from his navel.. The Grimm was watching helplessly as her head slid deeper and deeper down his body, feeling Monroe's lips brush the side of his face, until Rosalee slipped onto the floor in between his parted legs, hands on the button of his jeans.

".. whoa ..", was all that Nick could stammer, well aware he had not succeeded in uttering anything coherent for quite a while now. This was seriously getting out of hand. He whipped his head around to throw Monroe an alarmed look of the hey-are-you-aware-your-wife-is-doing-this-to-me-what-the-everloving-hell kind of variety. But, astonishingly, the clockmaker responded with a smile that gave him adorable little wrinkles around his eyes – and then Nick gave up protesting. Not that he'd been truly protesting to start with. He was pretty sure there had never been a time in the whole history of mankind where a guy had refused a blowjob, under any circumstances, and he was not going to break new ground here. Most definitely not with Monroe pulling him into another kiss.

The Blutbad's mouth was still flushed from Rosalee's earlier efforts and Nick sank into it with all he had, finally feeling Monroe's wet tongue tracing the curve of his lips. It went through him like a hot current. It made him close his eyes and open his mouth, almost obediently, and then all of his senses reached out and pointed like the whiskers of a curious cat. He'd been with Juliette for so long he already forgot what it felt like, a first deep kiss, how beautiful and intimate that was, how enjoyably nerve-wracking, the exploration, the tasting and sliding, the negotiating of a shared rhythm. He'd never had a kiss quite like it before, tender and hard at the same time, more demanding than a woman's. It made him feel weak and secure all at once, it made him feel dizzy, and yet Nick had never been so conscious of anyone or anything in his whole life, the heat and texture of Monroe's lips, the heaviness of Monroe's hand in his hair, stroking the nape of his neck, the scratching of Monroe's stubble and the sweetness of pancakes on his tongue. He must have eaten a few on the sly.

And then, suddenly, the mad jolt of pleasure as he felt another mouth on him, making him gasp.

".. oh-.. God.."

He could almost taste his friend's grin against his lips.

".. yeah.. that's what I usually say..", the Blutbad muttered and Nick wanted to remark what a lucky bastard he was, but all he could do was moan into Monroe's mouth, in a way that was unspeakably embarrassing just for another person to hear, but to have someone actually kiss him through it was so deliciously bad it was good. So good. So hot it scorched out all the pain and despair of the last couple of days, and weeks, and months, at least for these few dazzling moments, Nick's brain gratefully soaking up the unexpected rush of dopamine in his system.

He desperately clawed a hand into the shawl collar of Monroe's cardigan, clashing their lips together in what had stopped being kind and gentle some time ago. And with his other hand he finally dared to touch Rosalee, winding it into her silky hair and feeling her head going up and down underneath his fingers, sucking and licking him.

".. fuck.."

Nick was ashamed to realise he really wasn't going to last much longer. He was already shaking, his heartbeat coming out in breathless pants.

".. nn.. fuck.. I.."

Monroe did not allow him any further elaborations, silencing him and pressing him into the sofa, captivating him in every possible way so that Nick had no choice but to come with Monroe's tongue thrust deep into his mouth, making everything sharper and brighter and full of colours.

And then he was leaning back into the sofa, utterly spent, seeing stars against the background of his dark eyelids but finally in control of his own mouth, and there were hands softly stroking him and someone suggested that they should all go get some sleep.

A/N 2: This is the first time I've written something that's not entirely M/M, so hope you liked it. I've planned this as a multi-chapter story that develops into a three-way relationship, there wouldn't be nearly as much conflict as in my other longer stories, just lots of love and sex in various combinations (and Hank coming to visit them all). But I'm not sure I'll find the motivation to write it with everything else I've got in my head.

What WOULD motivate me are reviews, so please drop me a comment :).