Chapter Two: I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it
Nicole (Nick) Burkhardt was first and foremost a Grimm. It was programmed into her DNA, and when she came of age, her special abilities really kicked in. But Nick was also a cop in the Portland PD. When she was just fresh out of the academy, she landed a detective gig, making her the youngest female to do so in Portland PD history. She had two years on the force under her belt so far. For Nick, being a cop had always been as natural as breathing—instinctual and intuitive. It all made sense now: her stellar performance at the academy, a preternatural sixth sense, heightened awareness and fast reflexes. Grimm-enhanced performance.
After a long and grueling week (her current murder case involved a serial killer (human-version) most likely), the weekend finally arrived. Nick was ensconced in her small, but warm two bedroom home. A tiny blaze languished in the fireplace, long forgotten by the Grimm. She stood by the window, sipping a mug of green tea, watching the rain drizzle in the streets, lost deep in thought. It flared again, that feeling of being watched, stalked. But by what? It was maddening. Nick was a Grimm, albeit a neophyte Grimm, but a hunter and slayer nonetheless. She wasn't prey for some unknown adversary. Clouds shifted, blotting out what little moonlight was visible, plunging the street and her front yard into darkness. Something moved outside, a flicker in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to look and saw nothing. Something was definitely out there; in the darkness, of the darkness, and when it breathed out, the Grimm felt her body go cold, gooseflesh running down her arms. A foreign feeling bubbled in her chest. At first unrecognizable, Nick realized it was fear. She was afraid. In the past year, she had faced all sorts of unspeakable, unimaginable monsters, both Wesen and human alike, and never had she felt even an inkling of fear. But this was different—this was—she searched around for the right word, personal. Whatever was out there, it knew her, wanted her, and was coming for her. Nick would be ready, or so she thought.
Nick's cell phone rang, jolting her from her reverie. She looked down at the number, it was Monroe. "Hi, Monroe."
"Hey, sorry to be calling so late, but I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd give you a call. Can I swing by?"
"Um," Nick began.
"I have donuts."
"Well, in that case, come on over. I'll make coffee."
In the kitchen, Nick's thoughts turned to the creatures she hunted, Wesen, as Monroe referred to them. She had one particular Wesen on her mind. Nick wasn't sure how to handle her growing feelings for Monroe. She valued his friendship above all else. If she expressed sentiments that he might not feel inclined to reciprocate, she could ruin their friendship. That was not a risk she was willing to take. Life without Monroe was not something she wanted to contemplate. So, what was a Grimm to do? Why don't you continue doing what you've been doing?—Playing your little mind games with the Blutbad, a voice in her head suggested. It was true; she had been perpetrating her own form of psychological terrorism against the Blutbad for a few months now. It was difficult to reconcile her human feelings for the Blutbad with her Grimm instincts that demanded she dispatch him. Unrequited love and an arsenal of weapons—how romantic, the voice snickered. Of course, she would never physically harm Monroe, but that didn't mean she couldn't act out her aggression and frustration in other ways—ways that she would readily admit were cruel and immature. So high school. And if Nick were to continue to be honest about her feelings, at the heart of all of it would be a singular desire to see the side of Monroe that he kept meticulously contained. Wasn't that what it really boiled down to?—a yearning to see Monroe go full-Blutbad: all claws, and teeth, and savage desire. A narrative, in which the Grimm would have every right to exert her dominance over the feral Blutbad, had evolved over the months into a lush, and at times, depraved, scenario. She should leave the poor beast alone and dismiss this ridiculous fantasy, she admonished herself. Let Monroe enjoy his sedate life with his clocks, and Pilates and vegan meals.
Within minutes, there was a knock at her front door. "Wow, that was fast! When you said that you were in the neighborhood, you meant it." Monroe just gave her a lopsided grin and walked inside.
"Why don't you have a seat in the living room, and I'll fetch the coffee." Monroe made his way to the living room as directed and placed the donut box on the coffee table. Seating himself on the couch, he detected the faint scent of a foreign male. Scenting his surroundings, he determined that the odor was definitely that of a human male. Nick reappeared carrying two mugs of steaming hot coffee. "Here you are," she said, extending one of the mugs to Monroe. He just sat there, though, staring at her with an odd look on his face. "Are you alright?" she inquired. Nick moved closer to the Blutbad, her hand floating towards his face. She seemed to realize what she was going to do and dropping her hand, quickly veered off to the right and sat down next to Monroe.
"Have you been entertaining?" He asked with that same odd expression on his face.
"W-what?" the Grimm responded, perplexed.
"Entertaining," he enunciated slowly.
"Well," she hesitated. The Blutbad shifted, tensed. Sensing his agitation, she continued swiftly. "A new detective joined our unit a couple of months ago. I was chosen to assist with his orientation and training. Hank's been heads down with the Stark case, so I've been handling most of David's training. One night, about a week ago, we were working late at the precinct. We still had a load of paperwork to complete, so I told him that I would just take it home and work on it over dinner. He offered to cook dinner if I would complete the documentation. I couldn't refuse that offer; you know how dangerous I am in the kitchen. So he cooked and I did paperwork. I think he's lonely" she reflected. "His girlfriend, Juliette, recently broke up with him."
"Are you attracted to him?" Monroe asked quietly.
Nick was taken aback somewhat by the question, and her desire to sooth his agitation was wearing thin. "He's attractive, no doubt, but I don't think that I am attracted to him," she replied cagily. If Monroe was going to grill her, she thought; then she was going to have some fun with it. "You know, David and I were thinking about going to see that new action flick Friday, would you like to come? We could make it a double date; I believe David has a sister who is still single." Smiling mischievously, Nick picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. "Should I take your lack of response as silent consent?" The Grimm wanted to scream with laughter, teasing the Blutbad was deliciously delightful.
"He wants to fuck you," he murmured.
"Why would you say a thing like that?" The Grimm had never heard Monroe use such language. Placing the mug back on the table, she turned and faced him. His eyes were crimson and the pointed tips of his fangs rested on his lower lip. "Hey, just kidding over here! Really, I was joking about the movie and the double date," she said, eyes wide with alarm. Well, she wanted a reaction and she got one.
Fast as a rattlesnake, the Blutbad shot his hand out and grabbed the Grimm's wrist. Pulling her close, he placed his other hand behind her head and leaned in for a kiss. Nick's lips were full and soft; Monroe deepened the kiss. His tongue ran gently over the seam of her lips, requesting entry, which she granted. Her mouth was sweet and hot, and Monroe's head swam with the scent and taste and touch of the Grimm. Still kissing, Nick climbed into Monroe's lap, she could feel his arousal and pressed down on top of it, hips grinding. Monroe pulled back, "Don't start something you have no intention of finishing," he growled harshly.
"Okay, let's—not then." Monroe's inner wolf stalked off to go snarl in a corner, while the Grimm stood up and walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to make some more coffee, want some?" Receiving no reply, she shrugged her shoulders and busied herself at the coffee maker. A set of powerful arms wrapped themselves tightly around her, one arm around her hips, the other around her breasts. In a quiet, controlled voice, the Blutbad spoke: "I know you enjoy teasing me, but didn't your mother ever teach you not to taunt wild animals. It's not nice, and oftentimes, can be lethal." Kissing the point where her neck and shoulder met, he then ran his tongue up the side of her pale neck. The Grimm's eyes closed, and she gripped the counter to steady herself. She registered the absence of his arms just as she heard the front door shut. Turned on as she was, she would not go after him. If her goal was to frustrate and alienate the Blutbad, then this evening she could definitively declare: Mission accomplished.