Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Grimm" and fell in love with the Nick x Monroe pairing. This was mostly inspired by the pilot episode, 1x07, 1x08, 1x12 so it is loosely based in the late season one setting.
Warnings: temporary memory loss, injury, care-taking, hurt and comfort, animal traits, scenting, language, flirting, just guys being dudes, drama, romance, first time.
Abendrot
Chapter Three
It took him longer to get down the stairs than he'd like to admit. Trying to school his breathing when he realized he was the only one up. Getting a rather pleasant wash of scents as he reached the landing. All centered around the Grimm-shaped lump under the blankets in the living room. He approached the couch cautiously, deciding that friendly or not it wasn't a good idea to surprise a Grimm. Instead, he peered over the back as the man slept. One hand over his head, the other drifting into dead space between the couch and the coffee table.
He stared for a long time before finally shrugging and tottering off to do his morning Pilates.
Assuming at least that hadn't changed.
Unless they did it together?
He paused, looking back at the couch before shaking his head.
Nah. Nick didn't look like a Pilates guy.
Then again...he did Pilates.
Huh.
He doubled his workout, pleased when it left him with an achy, energized feeling. Being careful not to jostle his injuries too much, but actually feeling far better than he had when he woke up as he put away his gear and padded into the kitchen.
He was just about to break the quiet with the whir of the coffee grinder when Nick yawned - jaw popping. Sending a sleepy good morning in the vague direction of the kitchen as he paused at the counter and tried not to let the surge of déjà vu hit him like a load of bricks.
Because it felt familiar.
Like this exact moment had played out before.
"Coffee?" he offered firmly, popping his head out of the kitchen just in time to catch the man in mid-stretch. Shirt riding up to reveal an enticing strip of skin. Desperately trying not to stare as his world condensed down a scattering of moles and a grand total of about three dusky looking hairs. "It's a Guatemalan roast. Very robust."
"My favorite," Nick replied, wandering into the kitchen after him. Sleepy and mellow in all the ways he didn't know he found appealing until that very moment. "I didn't know you stocked back up. You've been holding out on me."
He snorted, slightly mollified. Choosing to ignore the little voice that wanted to snark something about how he honestly doubted it. He had a sneaking suspicions Nick got his way ninety-nine percent of the time when it came to just about everything. Somehow he doubted he was the exception.
"Not like that's high praise coming from a cop," he pointed out, sniffing haughtily. "You still smell like cheap bargain bin roast."
"Why do you think I'm over so often?" the man teased, eyes fluttering. Proceeding to spoon at least half a cup of sugar into his cup as he looked on, horrified. Forced to realize, as he gradually pried the sugar bowl out of the Grimm's hands and put it safely out of reach, that he might not be the only one who was flirting. Because Nick just smiled to himself. Watching him through the half-mast of his lashes like he had a secret.
It all felt very…rom-com. Only mostly without the second-hand embarrassment.
They ended up making breakfast together. Sitting down and knocking knees as they chowed down on breakfast sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee. The entire scene decidedly domestic as Nick scrolled the local news on his phone and he dumped everything but the flyers from the day-old newspaper on the side table and paged through it to see if there were any good deals. Slowly ramping up for the day as the closest clock ticked past 8:45am and he made a point to refill their cups with the last of the French press.
"Still don't remember, huh?" the man asked between mouthfuls of toast. "I'm not going to lie, I was hoping you'd wake up and- like you said yesterday- bounce. I'm used to you healing pretty quickly. Kind of gives me some perspective, actually."
"I'm fine," he assured, hating the frown that'd taken up residence on the man's face. Unable to shake the feeling there was something dangerous about it. Like they'd had this conversation before and he'd dug his heels in. "I feel loads better than last night. Woke up sore but the Pilates stretched it out of me."
"Are you feeling any better about all this though?" Nick asked. Waving his fork around. "Is there anything you want to know?"
'Want a list?' he thought sarcastically.
"I think so," he admitted eventually, chasing a bead of coffee around the rim of his cup before setting it down. Defeated by the gritty texture of the dregs. Hesitating for long enough that it got him a look. "I had dreams. Really vivid ones. You were in them. I think they might have been memories."
"What kind of dreams?" Nick pressed.
He leaned back in his chair. Still trying to make sense of the fragments.
"We were in the forest...I was chasing something- someone. You were telling me not to lose her. But the scent was wrong. Wounded and afraid, but not prey. Then we were here, watching TV. It was quiet. Good. Uh, I mean, I don't think it was connected, but it felt...familiar."
"If it felt familiar it probably happened," Nick told him carefully, twirling his fork between his thumb and forefinger. Making him want to ask about the first part – the part the man deliberately wasn't commenting on - before he got distracted by that warm scent rising between them again. "I'm kinda over here a lot."
The chime of quarter past nine gave them both an out.
"Don't you have a job?" he asked after a moment. Clearing their plates and cups as Nick checked his cell.
"I called in," the man replied. "Barring a murder spree, they can do without me for the day. I have a lot of sick leave saved up anyway."
His eyes strayed automatically to the Glock and holster that'd been left on the counter with the first aid kit the night before.
Oh, right.
A cop.
"So, a cop and a Grimm...how does that work?"
"Cop first actually," Nick explained, wandering out to the living room and unzipping the duffle bag he must have gotten out of his car the night before. Pulling out a toothbrush and a change of clothes as he headed towards the bathroom to change. "And don't knock it. It's how I met you."
"Didn't that almost get me arrested?" he shot back, the picture of false innocence. Hearing the amused snort it got him as the bathroom door swung firmly shut. Catching the sound of the toilet seat knocking against the water tank as he ambled back into the kitchen and set the dishwasher.
It was bizarre how normal it all seemed.
He took that weird ass thought as a cue to get ready for the day himself. Having to reacquaint himself with the contents of his closet as more than a few items rang zero bells. Hunting and pecking around the line of hangers as he tried to convince himself he actually remembered when he bought that shirt or that pair of jeans, only to give up half-way down the line because he figured he was trying too hard. Reduced to running his fingers down soft, comforting fabrics because at least then he understood why he bought them.
He'd always had a thing for texture.
In the end he settled on simplicity. Choosing jeans and a green v-neck t-shirt that still had the tags on it. He grabbed a sweater as an after thought. Trying to tell himself that it was because he couldn't remember wearing it and not that it smelled so thickly of Nick he could have sworn the man had spent half a day just rolling in it.
And no. He refused to think about that anymore than he already had, thank you very much.
"Hey," Nick greeted. Looking up from the couch as he came downstairs. "I was reading a thing about short term memory loss. There are a few things they recommend to try and jog your memory. Wanna try?"
He shrugged, grabbing his keys.
"Sure, can't hurt. Beats being stuck inside all day waiting for something to happen."
He didn't fight him on it when Nick snagged them from him before he could make it off the porch. Sedately following in his wake as the keys jingled in Nick's hands like an overture.
"The one with all their memories gets to drive," the man said breezily. Starting the engine. Watching him make a face at the smell of drying blood and dirt from the night before.
Ugh.
He was going to have to get the entire interior shampooed. Again.
Wait. Again?
When had that happened before?
He was still picking his brain when they took an unfamiliar turn into a residential area five blocks up from his street.
"Mind if we stop by my place? I need to grab a few things," Nick asked as they stopped at a crosswalk for two kids to cross the street on their scooters. One of them was wearing a bright red sun dress with little white bows ringed around the collar. But he barely noticed. Too busy looking at Nick as the man's throat worked through a lean-edged swallow. Highlighting a pleasant rash of stubble he kind of wanted to follow with his teeth.
There was something about seeing the Grimm in the sunlight. In his car. Surrounded in all his smells that made him feel intensely relaxed. Unable to shake the feeling that everything was as it should be.
Less than 24 hours ago he would have laughed in his own face.
And probably booked himself an appointment for a CAT scan.
But now he knew better.
It was absolutely insane, sure.
But he liked it.
If Nick noticed he forgot to answer, he mercifully didn't call him on it.
He'd barely closed the passenger door when a sudden influx of virulent blutbadden scent nearly sent him careening sideways. Forgetting to comment politely on the nice two-story home with sweetheart shutters and landscaped walkway. Forgetting to keep his mouth closed as he tried to take in as much of the scent as possible without shifting. Forgetting not to trip over his own feet as his boots barely cleared the concrete sidewalk. Forgetting not to be so damn obvious about it as his hands closed into violent fists at his sides.
Hell, he was pretty sure he actually forgot to breathe.
Because it was him.
His scent was all over the place.
Drenched into the grass and the fence.
Hanging so thick in the air around Nick's home it's meaning was unmistakable.
A clear warning to any wesen in the area that this was his territory.
That the Grimm who lived here was protected.
His.
"You okay? What is it? Dizzy?" Nick asked worriedly. One hand coming up under his elbow, steering him towards the front porch. Hands warm. Grabby. Worried.
Holy Jesus, he'd pissed on a Grimm's fence!
"Yeah, fine, nothing!" he managed. Realizing he was sniffing the air just shy of manically before reigning himself in by brute force. Forcing himself to get a grip and shrug the man off as they walked up to the house on his own power. "What did you need again?"
Nick just looked at him as he flushed with embarrassed heat. Looking up at him like he wanted to ask but didn't. Just patted around in his pockets for his keys and turned them in the lock. Giving him a whole new problem to deal with when the concentrated scent of the man's home rippled over him in waves.
He waited until the Grimm had gone upstairs - muttering about razors and a charger - before he rushed out the front door and into the back yard, following the scent trail. He sniffed the air, shifting for a handful of seconds, just enough to get the full picture, before shaking it away again. The animal under his skin howling in approval.
Because the claim was indisputable. Etched into the stain on the wood fence enough to indicate a long-term claim. He'd been doing this for weeks, probably months. The last spraying was barely four days old. Drenched in the powerful rank of a blutbad male. His scent.
Only it was different from the scent that clung to his fence back home.
This wasn't just a claim on territory, it was a claim of mate. Telling the entire god damned world that his chosen lived here and anyone who trespassed or tried to take what was his would die bloody and screaming. As was his right.
He buried his head in his hands in the middle of Nick's slightly overgrown back yard.
Oh man, he was so fucked it was unbelievable.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.
