Labor Day Weekend Day One

"Wanna go see the fireworks tonight?"

Monroe didn't look up from the watch he was fixing as he responded with a sound and definite, "No."

"Well we're fuckin' gonna."

He let out an amused snort. "Nice, Gwen. Real nice."

"Come on…" She grinned at him from the couch where she lay. Her hands never stopped moving as she continued to stitch the sleeve of one of his many flannel shirts. Her fingers moved deftly with the practiced skill. "It'll be fun! Besides, you've been working too hard lately."

Gwen was, of course, referring to his time spent with the Grimm rather than his time repairing clocks. She still didn't know about that. And as far as Nick knew, the witch was completely okay with her wolf working with a Grimm. Fortunately, the two of them didn't spend much time together without him there to play referee.

"I don't like crowds."

"Oh hush, you were fine when we went to that strip club."

Monroe's olive skin went pink and he jerked in surprise. "It was not a strip club! It was-"

"A burlesque club, same difference."

"You made me go to that too!" He snapped at her, "I didn't want to! You said you were friends with one of the singers, but you lied."

Gwen lifted a shoulder, not looking up from her needling. Unapologetically, she asked, "Would you have gone with me if I had told the truth?"

"Well-"

"And did you not enjoy yourself?"

"That's not the point." With a huff, he went back to his clock repair, working a tiny gauge back into place a touch more firmly than necessary. It snapped in half. A frown laced his features momentarily, almost as if to apologize to the tiny, wounded piece of metal before pulling it out with a tiny pair of tweezers. He set it aside as Gwen wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

The witch stayed quiet; choosing to simply watch him work for a few minutes.

In the rather lengthy duration of her life, she had never been particularly domestic. Yes, her father and grandparents had made sure she knew her way around a kitchen, and cleaning didn't bother her(although it was far from her favorite thing in the world) but she had never been particularly…affectionate with her lovers(or even her husband, whom she had known for literally years before their marriage). Over time it seemed she had become more touchy feely(mostly likely because her birth parents had been 'barbaric cunts'- her father's words, not her own; she didn't remember enough of her birth parents to really comment), but never outside the family. It would be inappropriate.

She rested her head on his broad shoulder. In the back of her mind, she was curious as to why she had so easily warmed up to Monroe. Gwen didn't really care, however, and being with him was probably the happiest she had been in her life.

Even if it was just something as boring as watching him work. God I am such a dweeb, she thought to herself.

Monroe felt her smile against his neck, felt her blush too. A smirk tugged at the man's lips as she let out a quiet giggle. "What?"

"Nothin'." A hard, dramatic kiss smacked against his cheek before she pulled away from him.

Monroe's eyes left the watch and his breathe caught in his throat at the sight of her.

Gwen was pretty. She could turn a few heads even on her worst of days, but with her cheeks flushed pink and the warm, bright eyed smile on her face- he was stricken with love for her. He was actually a little embarrassed by the wave of emotion, but that didn't stop him from getting up.

He made his way toward her slowly, almost cautiously. His hands finally grasped her hips and he dropped his head to hers. Peering down at her, he nuzzled his nose against hers(having to lean quite a bit to do so, even with her popping up on to her tiptoes). His arms lowered, dropping past her waist, under her ass and Monroe lifted her up so that they were eye to eye.

"What's up, handsome?" The witch asked, completely trusting of his eccentric behavior. However, an amused brow did cock at him.

Instead of answering verbally, he began rubbing his face against hers. Then against her neck. A shriek of a laugh escaped her at the contact of his rough beard on her sensitive skin but he persisted. He marked her shoulders, before tonguing a lazy trail back up to her throat. His teeth locked onto her pulse gently and she could feel the light prodding of his extended canines.

Monroe was more than pleased that she wasn't afraid of him and had to fight back a few of the more…difficult instincts telling him to mate her. They were sated by him scenting her, but he knew that wouldn't last long. The urge wasn't exactly sexual, he could deal with sexual. Hell, the curvy brunette he was holding on to practically lived and breathed sexual.

This was…domestic.

This was scary. The thought of marking her and keeping her scared him. The thought had been in the back of his mind a while now, but he had made no attempts to bring the idea up to Gwen. Part of him feared rejection, another part of him feared this was just temporary for her. It wasn't a very large part of him, but it was still plausible. Gwen had expressed interesting in going back to traveling with her family. And another part of him, the largest part, worried he wouldn't be good enough for her. Wouldn't be able to satisfy her, wouldn't be able to keep her safe.

If he took her on for as a mate, he would have to protect her. Keep her safe at all costs. Especially if they started a family- Keep their Pack safe. The warm glow that had started in his chest at the thought of this tapered off into a dark pit of guilt as he set her back down. Monroe couldn't do that and keep working with Nick…but helping the Grimm was the right thing to do. He could feel it. And that instinct was almost as strong as this one.

Gwen's smile slowly faded at the hard stare he was giving her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The Blutbad swallowed and shook himself from his thoughts. They could wait until later. Her fingers brushed his cheek and he closed his eyes. Leaning into the touch, he spoke quietly. "Gwen?"

"Mhm?"

"Let's go to the beach."

When he opened his eyes, she looked doubtful. So he flashed her a weak smile to ease her worries. It didn't exactly help, but she returned it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster(not a hell of a lot).

"Give me an hour?" Gwen asked, the sparkle returning to her dark eyes. "I'll make it worth your while."

The Blutbad agreed and allowed her to give him a soft peck on the cheek before scampering out the back door. He sighed faintly and went back to his clock repair.

Little over an hour later, a knock roused him from a rather stubborn rusted closed pocket watch. Monroe rolled his eyes at her need to knock, but called out for her to enter anyway. The brunette skipped through the back door, picnic basket in the crook of her elbow and clad in-

"Is that my shirt?" Monroe asked with wide brown eyes. "When did you take my shirt?"

"I like this shirt!" She chirped, giving him a twirl. The red flannel went almost to her knees, making it look more like a heavy dress than a shirt. When she spun, he could see she had a pair of denim shorts underneath.

He shook his head, "So do I! That's why I bought it!"

Her brown eyes rolled at him. Changing the subject, she asked, "You ready to go?"

"I guess," He eyed her with annoyance. "I'm not gonna get that shirt back am I?"

"Don't pretend like you don't like me wearing it." She smiled impishly. "If you're a good boy I'll let you take it off me later."

Monroe scoffed and stood. Just because she was right didn't mean he was going to admit it. He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and shrugged it on.

Being early September, neither of them were terribly concerned with the slight chill in the air. The sky was clear("Perfect for fireworks!" Gwen pointed out with a grin as they wander up to the Bug), the leaves were scattered along his yard. The woman kicked the small pile he had raked earlier, but Monroe didn't comment. More had fallen anyway, he'd have to rake again tomorrow.

It would take little over an hour to get to Cannon Beach. They had been driving through the woods about forty minutes when they began arguing over the radio.

"I just don't see why you won't just submit." Gwen chuckled.

Monroe batted her hand away from the tuner gently. "No more Alice Cooper, Ceridwen, I'm begging you."

She blew a raspberry at him and went to reach for it again. He pushed her hand away. She pushed back. They were too busy arguing the merits of classic metal to notice they were out of gas. At least, until the Bug rolled calmly to a stop and shit out on them.

Perplexed, the woman cocked a brow. "Are we there already?"

Monroe sighed and banged his head against the steering wheel. "No."

"Are we gonna have awesome forest sex?"

"No."

"Than why are we stopped, babe?"

"Because we didn't fill up the tank before we left." He groaned. His grip on the wheel tightened as Gwen opened her door. Without looking up, Monroe asked, "Where ya goin', Ceridwen?"

"I'm gonna check things out."

"Hey- no!" His hand shot out to grab her, but missed as he hollered. "That's what the stupid bimbo always says before she gets it!"

Sticking her head back in the open window, she pointed a finger at him. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just call me a bimbo."

"I- damn it, Gwen!"

Monroe unbuckled his belt and threw his door open. The sun was just beginning to dim, casting an orange glow over the empty forest. Completely empty. The Blutbad's eyes swept over the area, but alias, there was no witch to be found. He sniffed at the air absently, but came up short.

"Gwen?" He called out. A scowl lined his face at the nervousness in his voice. "Gwen!"

A giggle from his left. He whipped around just in time to catch her dart before a tree.

"Gwen, come on…" Monroe swallowed anxiously. "This isn't a good idea."

A flash of movement from his right…how had she moved so fast? He wondered, the wolf having perked at the thought of a chase, growled just below the surface. Another shriek of laughter left the woman and a rolled up wad of red flannel hit him on the back.

Monroe's eyes bled and he grinned. Sniffing the air, he caught a very faint taste of her arousal and took off like a shot toward it.

After an hour, the wolf grew tired of the rut. He had come so close- just for her to disappear into the shadows like a wisp of smoke. At first it had been fun. Now it was just frustrating. He had found all of her clothing, right down to her blue flipflops.

The wood was dark, the moon was high and the air was completely still when he screamed, "Where the fuck are you?"

A hand met his shoulder and Monroe tackled her to the ground. His fangs bared at her as he grabbed her by the throat. He ground his hips into her own, eyes never leaving her face. Blackness had leaked from her pupils into flowing rivers over her cheeks and brow, her lips twisted in a smirk as she moved up to kiss him.

The Blutbad slammed her back down. His grip tightened on her throat, but Gwen didn't panic. Instead, she showed her neck and whimpered as she tried to pull him closer. "Monroe…"

The man sighed, desperately trying to regain control. "You shouldn't have teased me."

Her hands made quick work of his belt. "I know. I'm sorry…"

A low growl slipped passed his lips as the witch began to stroke him, giving his weeping cock the attention it deserved. His red eyes bore into her black and he rasped, "This is where you belong you know."

Gwen nuzzled her cheek against his, her hand never stopping its gently ministrations.

"Under me."

The woman moaned at his words. He could smell her getting wetter and slid his hand between her legs. Monroe grinned wickedly at her, licking her exposed neck as he teased, "That's a good witch."

He felt her shudder and set upon her like the ravenous animal he was.

A/N: Smuttier than I intended, but you can't have a wolf in the woods without some sex. You just can't.