Parker and Nick piled into Lucille from the passenger side, while Hardison got behind the wheel. Nick had a list from Monroe clenched in his hand, which Parker wasted no time in removing.

"That's a lot of vegetables," Parker remarked.

"Hey!" Nick looked at Parker, realising she'd taken the list. "How did you…?"

"Don't ask," Hardison laughed. "Just don't ask."

"So is Monroe vegetarian?" Parker asked, unfazed by Nick's confusion.

"Yeah," Nick replied carefully. "It's one of his coping mechanisms."

Parker huffed out a 'hmm' sound. "Eliot loves steak."

"Yeah, but Eliot is like Mr. Control," Hardison offered. "Must be all the super secret military training."

"What other stuff does Monroe do?" Parker was curious now.

"Uh," Nick paused for a second. "He does pilates."

"Eliot does tai chi," Hardison supplied.

"He plays cello."

"Really?" Hardison perked up. "Cool!"

"Hardison plays violin," Parker answered Nick's confused expression.

"Oh," Nick was silent for a second before continuing. "He fixes clocks too. That's his business, and it really helps him focus."

Hardison made an excited squeaking noise that startled Nick, but made Parker laugh.

"Hardison restores watches," Parker answered again. "It's one of the only lo-tech things he does. Bet you wish you'd stayed behind with Eliot now, dontcha?"

Hardison pursed his lips and tightened his hands on the wheel. "There's plenty of time."

"You can talk about it over lunch," Nick said as he tried to get the list back off Parker. After a few failed attempts, Nick couldn't help the wry smirk that surfaced. "Why don't you just hold on to that for me?" Parker grinned at Nick in response.

(~*~)

Monroe watched silently as Eliot flitted around the kitchen. He had a notepad open, and every few moments he would scribble something down or cross something else out. Monroe had always liked to watch Eliot work. The intense focus and almost constant movement was soothing.

"I missed this." Monroe eventually spoke up.

Eliot stopped long enough to smile at Monroe, before picking up a knife and a leek. "It's been a while," Eliot conceded; his attention turning to chopping as he spoke. "We'll have to make an effort to see each other more."

"Trust me, now I know where you are, I'll be keeping tabs on you, Spencer."

Eliot laughed. "From what Nick said, I should be the one keeping an eye on you."

"What did he say?!" Monroe looked panicked, and Eliot took a moment to grin up at his friend before answering.

"That you get into trouble a lot now you're hanging out with a Grimm. What kind of trouble, he didn't say."

Monroe heard the gentle demand for information in that sentence. Taking a deep breath, Monroe began. "Well, I may have gotten my ass kicked a few times. Beaten up by some Reapers. Kidnapped by Lowen, although that wasn't really Nick's fault. They had this fight club thing going on. He saved me, actually. Put himself right in the cage next to me," Monroe laughed, clearly endeared. "The guy is an idiot. No survival skills."

"Good thing he has you."

Monroe didn't know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject. "You didn't tell me what you're making for lunch."

"Barley stew," Eliot replied. "Leeks, potatoes, barley, mushrooms, tomatoes. Should be enough flavour that the others won't notice there's no meat."

"You don't have to go to this trouble for me," Monroe protested.

"I want to," Eliot said, leaving no room for argument. Monroe nodded once. He knew better than to talk back about this. Eliot liked to cook, and catering to people he cared about was his way of showing appreciation and love.

"Want a beer?" Monroe eventually asked, getting up and heading for the fridge.

"Yeah, just don't get the unlabelled bottles," Eliot warned. "Hardison is trying to make his own microbrews."

"Not good?" Monroe asked, taking in Eliot's expression. Eliot wrinkled his nose in response, causing Monroe to laugh. He took two labelled bottles from the fridge and handed one to Eliot.

Taking the bottle, Eliot stopped working long enough to open it and take a swig. "Hey, if you're up for it later why don't you, me and the Grimm head to the woods for a little sparring?"

"I'd like that," Monroe smiled with genuine enthusiasm. "To tell you the truth, he's getting to be a handful for just me."

Eliot chuckled, but refrained from answering. The glare Monroe shot his old friend told the Hitter he didn't need to say a word.

"So… you and Nick?" Eliot spoke up after a few moments' silence. Monroe screwed up his eyes and groaned in despair. He should've known Eliot wouldn't let it lie. Eliot laughed at his reaction.

"We're… Hell, I don't know. The guy messes up my radar, y'know?"

"I get it, man. Trust me, I do."

"And it's not like I don't have options," Monroe stood up as he spoke. Eliot smiled to himself when Monroe started to pace. He'd known something was weighing on his friend, and it was just a matter of getting him to talk. "Angelina came back. I mean, I'm not that stupid: we were never a good fit… Ok, so I did kinda take a spill there."

"Meaning?"

"We ran together," Monroe looked suddenly guilty. "Slept together. I killed a rabbit."

"Everyone relapses now and again," Eliot verbally brushed away the mishap.

"But it's not just Angelina," Monroe continued. "I almost had something going with this feisty little Fuchsbau too, and yet again this… thing gets in the way!"

"She knows about Nick?"

"Yeah." Monroe sighed. "Hell, the whole of Portland knows about Nick by now! He's making friends in the community all the time. There's a lodge full of Eisbiber sending him baked goods for Chrissakes! Nick Burkhardt is about as far from being the boogie man we were told stories about as it is possible to be."

"And you love him."

"And I what?!" Monroe stopped moving to glare at Eliot. The Hitter was completely unfazed.

"I hear it in your voice when you talk about him. I see it in your eyes when he's in the room. Whether you like it or not, my friend, you've got it bad for that Grimm."

Monroe's groan was louder than the last one, as he slumped back into the kitchen stool, Eliot's amused chortle ringing in his ears.