In his wolven state, Monroe's eyesight was not much better than that of a Kehrseite. In fact, just as is the case with actual wolves, his ability to see sharply into the distance was rather limited. However, his other senses..

The mouth-wateringly sweet yet masculine scent of the young detective pinned to the ground beneath him was burning his nostrils, making his head reel. Fresh, hot sweat on recently washed skin, interspersed with faint notes of shampoo, fabric conditioner, ink and coffee to create a perfect olfactory harmony that he had grown addicted to. And deep down, underneath it all, Monroe could smell his blood, pulsing deliciously, could hear and feel the other man's heartbeat against his chest, against his palm where he was holding the Grimm down by his wrist. Oh, if he could just bow down and..

"Hey, I think you made holes in my shirt!"

Nick's voice instantly snapped Monroe out of his happy little world of sensual overload and back into reality. He jumped to his feet in one giant leap, quickly retreating to a safe distance and regaining his human physiognomy. Though some other.. transformations that had taken place as a result of their brief closeness were more difficult to suppress.

"Sorry man. Should have been more careful with the claws."

Monroe could feel his face burn, and it wasn't just the familiar pain of the Woge. Thankfully, the detective seemed blissfully unaware. One of the things the clockmaker found most endearing about his friend was his relative naiveté, considering that he was a Grimm. And a cop.

"It's alright. I'll declare this my 'Grimm training' shirt."

Monroe withdrew a few more steps as he watched the other man scramble to his feet with a mixture of a laugh and a pained groan. In Nick's case, unlike any regular friendship, what the Blutbad considered a "safe distance" seemed to only increase the longer he knew the detective.

"I can't believe you got me – again! You're amazing. Shouldn't this whole Grimm thing come with enhanced reflexes or, you know, some kind of superpower?"

"I think your ancestors were more the 'knowledge is power' kind of folks. Well, apart from all the head chopping business."

Right now, Monroe was more than grateful that his daily Pilates sessions had taught him efficient breathing techniques, which allowed him to keep his usual half jovial, half sarcastic tone of voice. Still, what just happened had almost thrown him. And the fact that it only happened in his head did little to improve matters.

Nick chuckled and busied himself with the not undemanding task of brushing his clothes clean of earth, grass and tiny pieces of dead leaves. Monroe took the opportunity to stare at him with what he could only hope would be mistaken for a casual gaze. He found the way the young man moved and held himself, and about every single little thing that he did strangely enticing, though he could not put a finger on what it was exactly that attracted him.

Of course, the clockmaker had known for a while now that he had grown unexpectedly fond of this unusual friendship. The hours they spent together had been the happiest he had known in a long time, despite being beaten up by everything the Wesen world had to offer on a regular basis. Monroe was often catching himself peeking at his mobile phone, wondering when Nick would call with another shady case that needed his help. And he was usually someone who despised all this modern technology and tried to use it as little as possible (unless kitchen gadgets were involved). At times, the Blutbad even found himself resenting his beloved clocks for making the time until the next call appear longer.

However, he had done a decent job convincing himself that he simply enjoyed the detective's company because of his easygoing, yet straightforward and determined personality. Which he did. That he admired Nick's uncompromising stance when it came to moral issues. Which he also did, even though it annoyed the hell out of him when they first met. And, of course, being on first name terms with a real flesh-and-blood Grimm was something he was secretely proud of. But this was only half the truth. Or maybe more like 40%.

There was also something else, much deeper and darker, something about Nick that spoke to the very core of Monroe's animalistic self, setting his blood on fire in all the wrong ways. The first time he noticed his friend having this effect on him was when they shared a few glasses of Monroe's home-brewed ale, and the clockmaker assumed there was something wrong with the yeast he used that made him more light-headed than it should have. To think anything else would have been sheer madness. Sure, he was naturally bisexual, like most Blutbaden. But the last time he felt this kind of attraction towards a guy, well, towards anyone for that matter, was in his wild past and he did not like to think about it. His libido was intimately tied up with some other urges that could seriously jeopardise his peaceful existence as a Wieder Blutbad. But it was getting more and more difficult to remain in denial as things were progressively getting worse. And today.. today was bad.

Monroe's train of thought came to a sudden halt as Nick looked up, giving him a lopsided smile.

Very bad.

Monroe instantly turned on his heels and made towards the car park with the mechanical and slightly jerky movements of a freshly wound-up clockwork toy.

"Wait, I thought we were going to have another round!"

Nick quickly caught up with him.

"But, you know, maybe next time you could be a bit less.. forceful?"

"Hey man, you told me not to hold back, right?"

"Yeah I know", Nick laughed. "But Juliette already thinks I'm up to something weird, so once she sees all these bruises..".

Monroe bit his lip. Conveniently, he kept forgetting about Juliette – even though he still had very fond memories of her vegan salmon recipe.

As if it made any difference that he has a girlfriend.

But what concerned him even more was the fact that the thought of giving Nick bruises did not make him feel guilty in the slightest. Quite the opposite was the case, it was making his spine tingle.

"Who knows, she might like it."

"Hmm.. well, I did pinch a pair of handcuffs from work the other day, and.."

"Yeah, yeah, too much information. Listen.."

Monroe stopped in his stride and turned to face his friend once again. He had collected himself enough now to be able to bear being so close to him, without..

".. I don't think there needs to be a 'next time' anyway."

"What?"

"You're getting much better."

"Are you kidding? You just wiped the floor.. well.. the ground with me. And for a moment there, I did think you were going to bite me or something."

Monroe gave a laugh that sounded just the tiniest bit strained.

You don't even have the faintest idea.

"Great, I'm glad you appreciate my physical and artistic skills, and I would love to spend even more time fighting the evil of the world with you and all that shebang, but I do actually have a profession, you know."

He started walking again, brushing aside some tree branches that were hanging in his way, maybe a little harder than necessary.

"But I thought you were enjoying this."

"I am, and I also enjoy being able to pay my mortgage on time. Look, there is a whole.." – he made a sweeping gesture in the air – "this huge pile of clocks that are sitting in my living room, and they are not going to repair themselves. And I doubt that you are going to come and help me with my job."

"Ha, as if you would let me anywhere near your precious clocks."

"Damn right, you have the fine motor skills of a Siegbarste."

The Blutbad was more than relieved to finally arrive at the car park. He headed towards his Super Beetle, fumbling for keys, with Nick still not leaving his side.

"Listen, Monroe, did I do something to piss you off? I know I'm asking a lot, but we.."

"Please", Monroe leaned against his open car door with a sigh. "Can we discuss this another time? I have this appointment with a cuckoo.."

"A cuckoo?" Nick raised an eyebrow. "I haven't noticed one of those in my books."

"No man, a cuckoo clock supplier. Seriously, you should try and resurface in the human world once in a while."

He slammed the door in the other man's face and started the engine. As he drove off, he watched Nick spread his arms in a "what the hell?" gesture in the rear window, then walk over to his own car. Monroe was already missing his scent.


A/N: Well, that's still not a very long chapter, but I'm getting better, right? ;D I have no idea where to go from here though, so hope I'll get an inspiration. Please review to let me know if this is worth continuing :)