Author's Note: Hi everyone! So I had a few problems and a lot of stuff happening this week, which is why this update is so late, but in honor of the fact that MonRosalee seems official at this point, (thank you, writers!) I wanted to put this next part out. The flashback is one of my favorite things I've written in a long time, so I do hope you enjoy that part. Thanks for all your reviews: I'm impressed at how well this story took off at first. I didn't expect such a response, but it's good to know I'm not the only one who ships MonRosalee!
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own Grimm. If I did, I'd be writing episodes that feature these two quite more than is necessary!
Enjoy, my Grimmlins!
CHAPTER 2
The next day dragged on, and Monroe was a bundle of adrenaline-spiked nerves by the time seven slowly rolled around. He pulled up to Rosalee's house in his vintage yellow bug and was positively shaking once he cut the engine. He didn't understand why he was so jumpy. She clearly wanted to spend time with him – she had accepted his offer after all. He couldn't deny he really hoped there was something there between the two of them. He thought about the last time they had met at the shop a long three days ago.
"Monroe, hi!" An astonished and pleasantly surprised Rosalee exclaimed when Monroe entered the shop unexpectedly. She came around from the counter and enfolded him in a hug. "I've missed you," she whispered in his ear. Monroe blushed deep red and smiled.
"I've missed you, too," he said. Pulling away, he held out a small rose. Rosalee smiled and laughed aloud.
"I guess flowers are your thing, huh?" She asked, taking the rose and putting it up to her nose, taking in a long, indulgent sniff. She closed her eyes and relished the aroma, her shoulders slowly slackening as she exhaled. "Beautiful," she breathed.
"I saw it in a florist window on the way over," he confessed. "It sort of reminded me of you." He blushed and scolded himself mentally for sounding like such a lovesick puppy. Rosalee giggled.
"It's wonderful," she assured him. "Thank you so much." She smiled appreciatively at him. "I'm sorry, I never have anything to give to you," she admitted. "I'm not sure what you would like."
"Please," Monroe said, "just putting up with me is a gift enough." They both laughed. Rosalee set the rose in a small vase on the counter and filled it halfway with water.
"So what brings you up here?" She asks shyly.
"Oh… nothing," Monroe mumbled, his eyes down. He didn't know how exactly to phrase his answer. "I just… wanted to see how things were going… with the shop and all."
"Well that was very sweet of you," Rosalee said, and Monroe lit up with the joy of knowing he had played this one right. "The shop is going excellently actually. I couldn't be happier."
"Well good," he said. "I'm glad. And I'm glad you stayed in Portland."
"I am too," she admitted. They had gotten so close at this point that Rosalee was pressed against the counter with her hands clutching the lip, and Monroe was right before her.
"Can… can I call you sometime?" He asked her nervously. She grinned.
"Sure," she said, turning from him and clumsily ripping off a piece of paper from the pad on the counter. She pulled a pen from the pen holder, knocking the whole container over in the process. She blushed and bent over to get it, but Monroe was already there scooping up the scattered writing instruments and gathering them back into the pen holder.
"Thank you," she said, sounding flustered. Monroe smiled.
"No problem," he said easily, setting the container back on the counter. Rosalee quickly scribbled her phone number on one half of the paper, ripped it in half, and handed both pieces and the pen to him. He silently scribbled down his own number and handed it to her along with the pen, folding hers and sticking it carefully in his sweater pocket.
"So yeah," she said, feeling awkward as she did the same with his number. "Call me whenever."
"Great!" He exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically. She raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing.
"Is there anything I can get you, or will that be it?" She asked.
"Nah," he said. "I don't really need any of this stuff. You know perfectly well Blutbaden don't usually get sick. Or do drugs." She smiled.
"Yes, I do know," she said. They looked at each other a long moment.
"You… you want to take a walk or something?" Monroe asked finally. Rosalee cocked her head irresistibly.
"You know what?" She asked, switching the open sign in the window off. "Actually, I do."
What had followed had been the main event of Monroe's best day ever. This was one of his favorite memories, and he reflected on it as he walked up the driveway and to her door. The scent of spring hung in the air, and the sun was slowly setting, casting warmth upon him. It would surely be dark by the time they left the restaurant, but it would be okay. Monroe tended to like and retreat to the cover of darkness.
He was trembling, and he felt his face was already hot, which was the most annoying thing. He didn't want to be blushing already. His face would take on a permanent shade of red! His palms sweated worse than ever, and his stomach was wobbling with butterflies. He bit his lip. His vision was off too, which he had no explanation for. He hoped he wasn't losing his nerve. That would be bad. Before anything else could happen, he gathered up his courage and rang the bell.
Rosalee stepped out a moment later, looking – as Monroe's mind put it – positively stunning. The fuchsbau wore a short, red cocktail dress with black shoes sporting heels so high she was almost taller than her "date." But only almost. She had a sweater draped over her arm in case she got cold, and her face lit up at the sight of Monroe.
"Hi!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. All his trepidation and fear melted away and he hugged her back, realizing for the first time that maybe they felt the same way about one another. Perhaps she actually felt for him what he had been feeling for her since they'd met.
"Hey there," Monroe said. She pulled back, holding him at arm's length by the shoulder.
"You look fantastic," she said, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe it.
"Thanks," he said. "You don't look too bad yourself."
"Do you want to come in and grab a beer or something?" She asked him. He shook his head easily.
"No, I'm fine," he said. "Thank you." She smiled.
"Okay," she said, taking his arm. "Shall we then?" Monroe's face became redder and hotter, if that was even possible. He stuttered incoherently for a second before scrapping the idea of a response and just leading her to the car. He held the door for her like a true gentleman, and then got in and began to back out of the driveway.
"So how are things?" Rosalee asked.
"With me?" Monroe asked, his hands shaking even on the steering wheel. His fingers had gone numb with cold, which was absurd for such a warm spring day.
"No, Monroe, with the car," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and shoving his arm playfully. "Yes with you."
"Oh," he said, his heart taking off. He was smitten. This was a decidedly bad thing. "Well, things are good."
"Mmm?" She asked, her eyes asking him for more. "Are you still working with the Grimm?"
"Yeah," he said, as if it was a confession. "Nick still calls me for any Wesen related things. But it's all good. Nick's a good guy."
"I know," Rosalee said. "I'm glad he solved my brother's murder, and I'm forever indebted to him. But he's got to be the most incompetent Grimm I've ever met." Monroe laughed.
"He's still learning the ropes, that's for sure," he joked.
"But did you see how well he delivered that egg for the Seltenvögel?" Rosalee continued. "That actually can't be classified as learning." Monroe nodded contemplatively. He really liked the way she found the good in others, he mused.
"So what else is new?" Monroe asked.
"Not much," Rosalee sighed. "To be honest, it's just the humdrum routine of daily life. But it's stability, and I do happen to like it."
"Well stability and ritual can be a good thing," Monroe said. "I mean, without one, you know what I might turn into."
"I know," Rosalee said, touching his arm. "A bloodthirsty killer. But you would never relapse, Monroe. You're too good for that."
"Well thanks," he said, blushing deeply. Rosalee noticed how his face turned red at every compliment she fired at him. Perhaps he was unused to such words. Blutbaden did not often hear compliments. Pack members did not usually say kind words to one another, as that apparently showed that the giver of compliments was weak. Rosalee hated this notion. If finding the good in others made people weak, then she must have been one of the weakest of all.
"So how was your day?" Rosalee asked. She desperately wanted to get into a deeper topic with him, but she didn't know how to start it off so it wouldn't be awkward.
"It was good," Monroe said, lying through his teeth. Truth be told, he had been worrying the whole day, and he'd accomplished little to nothing all day. He was jumpy and nervous, because his plan was to finally tell her how he felt about her: he was in love with her. "How was yours?"
"Eh," she said, shrugging. "You know. It was pretty boring, but I was excited for tonight, so that got me through." Monroe smiled.
"You really were excited for tonight?" He asked.
"Of course," she said. "I've been missing you. I'm really glad you called yesterday."
"Yeah," Monroe said thoughtfully, realizing for the first time that maybe saying what was on his mind wouldn't be so hard after all. "I'm glad too."
Monroe pulled into a spot at the restaurant. Cutting the engine, he turned toward her.
"Rosalee, I want to ask you something," he said, just as he'd rehearsed a thousand times in his head earlier in the day.
"Okay," she said uneasily. "Go ahead." With him facing her, she saw him full-on for the first time that night, and she noticed he looked different. His eyes were ringed with faint shadows, and they were bloodshot, which she'd never seen happen to him before. He was also sweating like crazy. She wondered if it had something to do with the date. Perhaps he was nervous like her and was showing outward signs of it.
"I've been wondering," he said, pulling her from her reverie, "what exactly are we?" She hesitated. Thoughts of his nervousness flew away in that instant. She'd been giving that a lot of thought recently as well, and she had no idea what the proper term for them currently was. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and creased her brow in confusion, suddenly realizing that she really didn't have a name for what they were. In the back of her mind, she mused, there really needs to be a name for that place between "dating" and "just friends." But then she wondered if they were really still "just friends" anymore. She had accepted an invitation for a date. And he had extended one. Maybe they should both stop skirting around the issue, stop being afraid of love, and embrace it wholeheartedly.
"See, I feel the same way," he said, referencing her lack of a response. "I just don't know what to call… this." Rosalee thought her response over carefully in her head before she spoke.
"I think…," she said cautiously. "I think… I think in my head I've just been considering you a friend. But I just feel like… there's something more…."
"Me too," Monroe said immediately.
"Maybe," Rosalee said, still carefully choosing her words. "We should start calling it 'dating.'" After all, this was a "date," right?
"I would like that," Monroe said, beaming. "I really care about you, Rose." She grinned.
"'Rose?'" She asked. "We just now decide to start dating and you already have my endearing petname picked out?" He shrugged, a silly little smile on his face.
"Now I can use it," he murmured. Rosalee laughed out loud. She peered up at him from behind her curtains of long hair and smiled slightly. She realized just how much she had come to care for the Blutbad since they first met and she'd saved his life. She was ready for a relationship with him. She gently took his hand in hers and squeezed it.
"As long as you don't call me vixen," she joked. Then, she let go of his hand and undid her seatbelt. "Let's go," she said softly.
A/N: So yeah, in case you didn't know, "fuchsbau" is German for "fox den," which I suppose means Rosalee is a fox, hence her last quip. (Blutbad is German for carnage, so... It feels like Fox and the Hound to me!)
I hope you all liked this! More to come soon! As always, reviews are appreciated and wonderful, and also helpful. Thanks to all who have shown their support already - I am quite grateful!
Ciao for now!
~PG22
