In which the guys wake to a series of surprises.

Nick woke as the sunlight streamed through the large window, feeling relaxed, warm, and comfortable. He was in a bed that wasn't his. He was naked. Someone stirred next to him. Captain Sean Renard rolled over on his back with a groan, and as he stretched, his hand brushed Nick's bare shoulder. The two men smiled slightly and looked into each other's eyes for a moment before the situation registered and Sean said what they were both thinking.

"Holy shit!" Sean backed away, and fell out of the bed. Nick looked over the edge and realized Sean was naked, too.

"Did we..."

"I'm not sure... I can't tell... I don't know..." Nick raised his hand to his forehead to brush the hair from his eyes when he saw it. A ring on his left hand.

"What the FUCK?" Now it was Nick's turn to lose his balance and fall out of bed. "Oh my GOD, what did we do last night?" Sean made a whining sound from the other side of the bed and Nick heard his head hit the floor.

"You mean you don't remember either? What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uhhhh, going to the burlesque show, and Monroe was drunk and he gave me a hug and told me he loved us..."

"Shit, that's the last thing I remember, too... okay, we need to not panic. Not panicking... Okay, let's get dressed and find the others and see if we can sort this out..."

"Okay. And not a word about waking up together naked, okay?"

"Okay..." Nick and Sean dressed quickly in silence, Nick watching Sean out of the corner of his eye. Sean pulled a soft-looking grey tee shirt over his well-defined muscles. After they were dressed, they walked out into the main portion of the suite.

"Oh, fuck," Nick said.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck," Sean agreed miserably. The suite was in shambles: broken bottles and glasses, torn upholstery, a chair somehow hanging precariously from the chandelier. They made their way into Hank and Bud's room, and found Hank asleep on a bed wearing only his boxers, one black sock, and a bright yellow feather boa. Bud's bed was still perfectly made. Sean gently shook Hank, and he came to with a groan.

"What the hell happened?" he asked groggily, then started. "Holy shit! Damn, I thought I was done waking up like this..."

"Quick, what's the last thing you remember?" Hank squeezed his eyes shut tight and thought for a long moment. Nick felt himself begin to fidget.

"Ummm... Burlesque show... bringing some of the dancers back... girl in yellow making eyes at me..."

"Okay, that's a little further than Nick and I got... Get dressed. Do you know where Bud is?"

"Mmmmno. He not in bed?" Sean shook his head.

"What about the bathrooms?" Nick asked, and Sean nodded, rubbing his temple.

"Yeah, good idea." It didn't take too long to find Bud, fully clothed, asleep in the large whirlpool tub in the 'hers' bathroom connected to his and Hank's room. Nick splashed some water onto the Eisbiber's face, and he woke with a startled woge.

"Oh, God... oh, Nick... Sean... what... what happened? Why am I wet? What the heck..."

"We don't know either," Hank said, pulling a shirt on. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Ummm... telling one of those nice dancers that I'm married. She didn't look too happy... But that doesn't explain why I'm here..."

"This is not good," Sean mumbled, "Bud, why don't you dry off and get changed before you catch a cold?"

"Well, Eisbiber don't catch... oh, yeah. Okay. Yeah." Bud pulled the plug and the tub drained. The cops left the room to give him some privacy. Bud reappeared moments later in dry clothes, towelling off his face.

"Now, where is Monroe?" Hank and Bud looked around at the damaged as they made their way toward the master bedroom.

"Reminds me of my college days..." Hank commented before he caught Nick's arm. "Uh oh..."

The door to Monroe's room was hanging off the hinges. Nick gulped. This was not good. Monroe's bed was mostly made up, but the edge of the bed looked like it had been clawed by an animal. A pair of rumpled pink silk panties were on the floor next to the bed.

"This is bad... This is very bad..." Bud muttered over and over.

"Now let's not jump to conclusions, Sean said quietly in an effort to calm him. "Somebody else might have... appropriated his bed..." They checked the bathrooms, but the Blutbad was nowhere to be found.

"Bud, can't you smell who was in here?" Nick asked.

"What do I look like, a Fuchsbau? And I can't smell anything except alcohol anyway..." Bud woged, hyperventilating. He composed himself and continued, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little freaked out right now..."

"Uh, with good reason..." Hank reassured him.

"Let's try calling him..." Sean said as he took out his phone. Nick heard Monroe's phone going off, and they followed it back to Sean and Nick's room. Monroe's phone was ringing in the pocket of Nick's pants from the day before, crumpled on the floor.

"Damnit, no good... I took his phone because he wouldn't stop texting Rosalee... wait, where's my phone?" Sean dialed Nick's phone, but the call went to voicemail. Nick's cop instincts kicked in.

"Okay, secure the perimeter, look everywhere you think Monroe would be able to fit... and even some places he might not. He does yoga, he might have curled up somewhere..."

"Yes, sir!" Hank and Sean agreed, and they divided to search the suite. After a few minutes, Bud scurried in to where Nick was searching holding a sheet of paper.

"Ummmm, Nick? I'm sorry to bother you, because we need to find Monroe, but, ummmm... you need to see this."

"What?" Bud handed the Grimm a computer printout and backed away slowly. A marriage license for the state of Nevada. Signed with his name. The other signature was completely unreadable.

"Shit... Well that explains this..." The Grimm held up his hand to the Eisbiber, whose face went pale.

"Oh, no... Do you remember...?" Nick shook his head. "Oh my gosh, Monroe is going to be mad! He made you promise him you'd stay sober and oh my gosh, we're going to have an angry Blutbad... He's going to be pissed we destroyed the suite, too... Oh God, he's going to disinvite us to the wedding..." Bud sank to the floor and woged again from stress.

"I don't suppose it would help to remind you we have to find him first?"

Half an hour later, they were sure they had looked everywhere possible and Monroe was not anywhere to be found. While they were all freaked out, Bud was nearly hysterical with panic, muttering to himself and shaking profusely. Sean sat, rubbing his face in his hands.

"We can't file a missing persons report... None of us can track him... I guess we're just going to have to wait for him to come back on his own. I guess if something really awful happens, they'd call Rosalee and she'd call us, right? She is his ICE contact, right?"

"And I'm his secondary," Nick confirmed. Hank groaned.

"Except we have his phone."

"Damnit... And we don't know if he would still have his wallet... Damn, damn, damn..."

"I guess it... It could be worse..." Bud said with an obviously false cheerfulness. Hank shot him a death glare.

"You did NOT just fucking say that." Bud gulped and shrank away.

There was a knock at the door, and all the men froze. Sean composed himself and went to the door. He cracked it, and a young Hispanic woman was standing on the other side. Nick could tell he was trying to prevent her from seeing the mess within.

"I have a message for Mister Sean Renard?" she said quietly, handing the man an envelope.

"Thank you," he said quietly with a nod. He waited until she had turned away before he closed the door. He opened the envelope, read the paper within, and his face went white.

"Oh God."

"What?" Hank asked weakly.

"Things just got worse." He showed them the note with shaking hands:

Sean:
This isn't over.
-E