Title: Break the Night (Saints can't help me now)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Juliette. Monroe. Nick. This is how they howl.
Notes: I may have listened to Florence + The Machine's Howl on repeat the whole time I was working on this. Just maybe. The thing about Rogue Ales? Verifiably canon! Check out the labels on the beer Nick and Monroe drink (it's Rogue's American Amber, and Rogue's Dead Guy, and Rogue's Double Dead Guy.)
She's not blind. Her Nick is a very handsome man.
It's just most of the time he doesn't seem to understand it. Sometimes when Nick is out late, again, she'll think about it. She thinks that since Nick never spent more than a few months in one school from the time his parents died until college he had never quite learned all the unwritten rules of body language and distance. That, and because he stayed in places for such a short time Nick learned to make friends quickly.
Or, that's Juliette's current theory.
Nick draws people in with his good looks, charm, and seeming endless belief that makes people want to be better. He charges into people's personal bubbles and shares secret seeming smiles and she's watched them fall one by one. Drawn into the magnetic field that is Nick Burkhardt.
(she can't decide if he really doesn't understand the effect he has on people or if he knows and doesn't care. she can't decide which would be better.)
If she were jealous type she wouldn't have lasted these three years.
People might fall a little bit in love with Nick on a daily basis but it doesn't worry her because he doesn't see them. He doesn't fall in love back. His smiles are another investigative tool, perhaps driven more by instinct than intent but the end result is the same. Man or woman, married or single, Juliette is used to people falling just a little bit head over heels with him even if they don't realize it. As often as people have fallen in love with Nick, she's never worried about it because he's never fallen in love back. Ever since they started dating it's been like he hasn't even noticed the often outrageous flirting directed at him.
Besides, Juliette knows that Nick—who barely remembers his parents' relationship—sees love, comfort, and solace in the minutiae of living.
So, Juliette trusts him because at the end of the day Nick always returns to her. It's her that he wakes up to. It's her that fixes him coffee and breakfast. It's her hands that feed him and fold his laundry. And it's her that is keeps the home fire burning at night.
(she can't decide if this means they are the forever kind of love or if their love will never do more than flicker softly and then burn out. she can't decide which she would prefer.)
But then there is a new type of beer in their refrigerator and she is unaccountable afraid of what it means.
A new type of beer in the refrigerator, a steady elimination of red in his wardrobe, and—worse of all—a new person who is making him coffee in the morning. It sounds stupid and territorial because liking a new beer and easing out of reds into earthier tones doesn't mean he's breaking up with her. It's just she loved him in red and had always fancied him Clark Kent with his dark hair and blue eyes...except everyone else got to see Superman and she was the one who had Clark Kent all to herself. But there are extra circles under his eyes and an extra distance between them and it hurts.
Juliette knows that Nick isn't the type to cheat. But you can lose just as easily without sex getting in the middle.
That's why this scares her so much. She was prepared as a cop's future wife to not push too hard and let things go. But this isn't just work. She feels like she's loosing a competition she didn't even know she was in. Suddenly her coffee and bacon isn't enough for him in the morning as he dashes off somewhere else. Suddenly she's finding herself eating a lot more salads because Nick is never home for dinner anymore and then one day she's smelling his sweater and it smells of a different laundry detergent.
(she can't decide if she's lost him already or if she never actually had him. she can't decide if what they had could be called love.)
And this was never supposed to happen because Nick was never supposed to fall in love back.
He's not blind. Working with a Grimm is an invitation for disaster.
It just most of the time this Grimm doesn't seem to understand. Sometimes when Monroe is in the midst of his morning Pilates his mind will wander to Nick. Nick is descended from the Grimms of nightmare and old. His mother and Aunt were legendary for their danger and ruthlessness. Through his lineage, Nick's Grimm blood should sing with murderous intent and death. Nick's Grimm blood should ravage the Portland area wesen indiscriminately leaving a trail of heads and stakes in his wake. Nick's Grimm blood shouldn't even let him contemplate trusting Monroe with his life and family.
Monroe thinks that somewhere along the line Nick missed the memo on what being a proper Grimm entailed.
Some days Nick reminds him of nothing more than a collie dog. The one that looks at you with no doubt and the tennis ball in its mouth and just waits for the world to rearrange itself and you to throw the ball. Nick rushes in to Monroe's life and he wants to object but there is this part of him that just responds to that strength of will. When they are talking about a wesen problem over coffee in the morning or beer at night and Nick looks at him like he's on the inside and it's just him and Monroe against the world, it makes Monroe tell the little naysayer in his head to be quiet.
(monroe wonders when stopping over whenever nick had a problem became stopping over just because. and then nick is smiling at him over a cup of his finest craft roast coffee and monroe wonders if he even cares about when.)
If Monroe were a typical blutbad Nick would have been dead months ago.
But there is just something about Nick that makes him glad he's weider now. Monroe might put up a token protest but he likes it that Nick asks him to talk to Roddy; likes that he helps the eisbiber stand up for themselves; and likes the fact that there is still something so pure in Nick that he wants to give the seltenvogel's egg back to her. Nick isn't a Grimm like any of the stories tell and Portland is becoming a canton unlike any other he's aware of.
Monroe is continually surprised by this Grimm and it's the kind of surprise that seeps into your bones.
Nick isn't looking for blood and death and domination through fear. Most Grimms view wesen as automatically bad, but Nick isn't like that. One night over a beer—something from Rogue Ales of course, Monroe likes to educate his Grimm on wesen and decent microbrews at the same time—they are both a little deep in their bottles and Nick tells him the words his dying Aunt gave him and how in his grief he viewed the world of a Grimm through the eyes and duty of a police officer.
(monroe wonders if aunt marie knew she made nick as atypical as monroe did by telling nick grimms found the "bad ones." and then nick gives him this look of fondness and care and monroe thanks her even if she didn't mean to.)
Monroe likes providing for Nick—there is something that satisfies a long dormant ache when he stocks up on extra bagels and beer.
Being weider means many things but it definitely means giving up the pack. Pack is good and bad. Pack means blood and death and so Monroe has to give it up. But pack also means tenderness, love, and care and Monroe misses that. Pack means casual affection and being sloppy with personal space. Being weider means no more of that. It means control above all else. It means constant awareness. And it is exhausting.
Nick slides right into the hole Monroe tries to pretend doesn't exist.
A casual hand on his arm, the bump of a shoulder, and that ridiculous sprawl across Monroe's couch...Nick is in Monroe's kitchen hovering over Monroe's shoulder and Nick is at Monroe's table. Nick smiles at him like he's worth all of a siegbarste's gold. Nick brushes up against him like he's trustworthy beyond measure. Nick lights up like the Portland skyline the first time Monroe makes him dinner. The night he volunteers to wash Nick's sweater after an encounter with a frog wesen in a particularly stinky bog, Nick looks at him like he's Christmas, his birthday, and the fourth of July come all at once.
(monroe wonders how some one like nick could be so affection starved to be so ridiculously grateful for the simplest things. and then nick has fallen asleep and is burrowing into his shoulder while they watch a movie and monroe's inner wolf sighs 'pack.')
And this was never supposed to happen because Grimms and blutbad don't mix but no one got around to telling that to Nick.
Nick just might be blind because he can't see his way out of this.
He understands that once upon a time Juliette was his happily ever after. Then fairy tales came to life and happily ever after was not the Disney kind of princes and princesses riding off into the sunset of a house with a picket fence and 2.5 children. Rather happily ever after was filled with sisters sacrificing for sisters; unrequited lovers sacrificing for their beloved; parents sacrificing for their children; and children sacrificing for their parents. Happily ever after must be fought for and paid for with sweat and tears, with cleverness and pain, with strength and duty.
Juliette is what is expected.
She is softness and light. Juliette is delicate fragility with her big beautiful eyes and care for every living thing. She is Disney's Snow White, plucky when it's cute with animal attendants. She deserves the big old house that is slowly filled with children and strays; their children's height marked off on the kitchen door; and summer barbeques filled with other wives who know exactly what not to ask.
(nick thinks he should be able to give that to her. he thinks that long long ago he would have been able to.)
If Nick were less of an outsider maybe it never would have happened.
The day he buys the engagement ring is the day everything changes and he can't help but think of it as a harbinger for what was to come. And then Aunt Marie is dead and he's seeing strangers everywhere and it's confusing and he doesn't like it. Nick had made Portland his home. He had learned the ins and outs of the city, of being a detective, of being Juliette's. But now there's a whole knew set of rules and protocol to learn and when Monroe offers him a beer it feels like a lifeline in a storm.
Monroe is fascinating.
He is order and chaos. Monroe is sheer blutbad strength and an iron will no matter how he covers it up with routines and clocks and hipster sweaters. He isn't a fairy tale at all. He fixes clocks and fixes Nick on his path. He teaches Nick the rules he didn't even realize existed and takes care of him. His cello and the ticking of his clocks soothe Nick on his bad days. His coffee and voice are what truly wake Nick up in the morning. Monroe never has to worry about what not to ask because there isn't anything Nick wouldn't tell him.
(nick thinks it's just like moving to yet another new town when he was younger where he doesn't understand the unspoken rules again. he thinks that long long ago he was the roddy of this tale.)
When Monroe offers to wash his sweater he knows that it's too late for a happily ever after to this tale.
Nick knows that love isn't always flashy and loud. Nick knows that sometimes, most times, love is quiet. Love is the solid presence of your beloved. Even before his parents died Nick knew that something was twisting uncomfortably. He didn't know it at the time but death like the kind a Grimm brings leaves a mark on you as visible as the underside of a hexenbiest's tongue. After their death he moved around so much all that was left was the impression of yet another school with yet another set of interchangeable people.
Monroe is nothing like Juliette except in the ways that count.
He's like Juliette because Monroe trusts Nick, takes care of Nick, and loves Nick. Monroe isn't interchangeable with anyone though. Nick doesn't cheat. But Nick can feel his heart slowly disengaging from Juliette and it realigning itself with Monroe. Nick can feel their connection reinforced by Monroe's hand on his arm waking him from bad dreams, their connection strengthened through ridiculous—but tasty—vegetarian dinners, and their connection swaddled in the scent of Monroe's homemade rosemary thyme laundry soap.
(nick thinks of his red haired princess at home in their victorian castle who never pushes out of love and thinks of the browned haired man whose couch he's currently on who pushes him back but has still always backed him up. nick thinks long long ago there was no such thing as a fairy tale only life.)
And this was never supposed to hurt so much because he loves them both but even he knows it's only a matter of time before she become he.