Thanks to everyone who read and to StyxxsOmega and Priyanka for reviewing.
Crosses over with What Strange Creatures ch. 35, but both stories can be read separately.
Barry watched Dad and Nick and Monroe head for the stairs and couldn't help but check that he was between said stairs and Roddy. Not that he was really thrilled about Dad being out of sight either, but he was a lot more sure that Dad could take care of himself.
"Would you chill?" Roddy said, shoving a controller at him.
"He's a Blutbad." A predator that Mom had considered worthy of mention, if only to repeat that they were violent and uncivilized and no one that a proper Jagerbar would ever associate with. And that was without—
"Yeah, no shit. And Nick's a Grimm and I'm an appetizer so I don't think anyone's making an argument that this is a traditional Thanksgiving."
Barry shook his head and shoved Roddy lightly. He couldn't really explain it, at least not without saying a lot more about that place than he was willing to, but Monroe read as way more of a threat than Nick ever had. Maybe he was just seeing things, but…. "You're telling me that you were worried about coming over here the first time but not hanging out with a Blutbad?" he asked instead.
"Well, I wasn't okay with it when he showed up as a random stranger at my front door in the middle of the night, no, but considering that I was on suspension for a fight I never asked for, a Grimm had popped up out of nowhere and dragged me and my dad to the police station not eight hours before—oh, yeah, and wouldn't let my dad go despite knowing full well he hadn't done jack—and the creeps who tried to beat me up were also trying to frame us for murdering my teacher I wasn't okay with a lot right then. Anyway, he plays cello. And he's a vegetarian."
Barry shook his head, but before he could say anything else the blinking 'start' on the screen caught his attention. "Hey, wait, why am I the stupid slingshot guy?"
"You were being dumb so I picked for you." Roddy's hand shot out and hit the start button before Barry's controller before Barry could stop him, and then his character promptly whacked Barry's over the head with its much-more-useful fighting staff.
"All right, you're going to die." Even if it was going to be tricky because seriously, who wrote a character with a slingshot for a weapon into a hand-to-hand combat game? Roddy blew a raspberry at him and then hit his character again, and Barry swatted Roddy's controller away long enough for his own useless combatant to get a kick in before Roddy pulled it back.
"Dork."
"You can't talk."
A few games later—Barry managed to start winning once he got a chance to switch to a character that had a useful weapon, obviously—and he yawned and rolled onto his back. "I'm getting hungry again. Want to go finish off that blueberry pie?" They'd all grabbed a piece between movies, but if he remembered right there was still a little left.
Roddy bit his lip. "You don't think anybody'll mind?"
That wasn't a no, and he grinned. "Nah, between the two that Dad picked up to go with Thanksgiving dinner and the other three that Nick brought we've still got one for each of us tomorrow. We'll have to be careful what lights we turn on so we don't wake Dad and Nick," or at least he hoped that it was Nick who'd taken his room, "but that's not a big deal." He had pretty good night vision, and he thought Roddy did too.
"Now you're not going to worry about Monroe?"
"Very funny. Dad's office was like a suite for my grandparents when I was little so it's pretty well split off and soundproofed and everything."
Roddy nodded, and the two of them headed up the stairs. Where it turned out that night vision didn't even matter because between the full moon and the light reflecting off the snow outside the kitchen was illuminated well enough to navigate with no difficulty anyway.
"So why did he come to your house in the middle of the night, anyway," Barry asked quietly as he pulled the mostly-eaten pie out of the fridge. "And why did you let him in?"
"Huh? Oh, Monroe." He shrugged. "I guess it was kind of technically more like seven or eight, and I wasn't really paying attention when I opened the door. Figured it was just one of my asshole relatives. Nick sent him over to talk to me because obviously I wasn't going to listen to a Grimm so a Blutbad was somehow the next best choice."
That actually sounded like something that Nick might do. Barry dropped half of the remaining pie onto a plate, pushing it towards Roddy and taking one of the forks that Roddy held out in return. "Talk about what? How to make rats tasty?"
"Fuck you." Roddy snagged a couple of napkins as they turned out of the kitchen. "And I don't know. Some stuff about Nick that I was too freaked out to listen to, some stuff about talent and life and I don't know what else that didn't make a lot of sense, and then I guess he decided that he'd said what he came to say because he just sort of got up and walked out again."
"Seriously?"
"I mean, he gave me a card, but…." Roddy shrugged and shook his head as Barry waved him down the stairs first. "It's probably better for everyone that he skips the motivational speaking gigs and just sticks to making clocks. Which you should never ask him about, for the record."
"What? Why not?"
"Because he'll tell you. In detail."
Roddy shivered, and Barry snickered.
"For real, though, what's freaking you out?" Roddy asked as they dropped back down in front of the television. "I'm pretty good at spotting dangerous—I don't exactly get a choice—and he made me plenty nervous at first, but he's not going to do anything. Hell, he's Nick's best friend."
Barry's good humor disappeared. "He just reminds me of some people."
"Wow, that clears things right up."
"It's not…." He stabbed at the pie. Roddy wasn't as bad as Dad, maybe, but it still wasn't something that he wanted to get into. "I don't want to talk about it."
Roddy rolled his eyes. "Fine. But would you at least try to stop being weird?"
Barry stuck his head up above the low stone wall he and Roddy were crouched behind—him more crouched than Roddy, obviously, and he still wanted to know who'd decided that adults against kids was in any way fair when 'adults' included a terrifyingly accurate Grimm and a Blutbad he still wasn't too sure about even if both Roddy and Nick insisted that he was okay—and threw a couple of snowballs as close to full-force as he dared without risking hurting anyone. And then he waited for Roddy to pop up as well before lobbing two more with considerably less force while Roddy just ducked again. "You ready?"
"Yeah, but are you sure you'll be okay?"
"I'm fine, as long as the sun's out it's not a big deal." Barry's jacket was currently spread out in the snow, piled with half the snowballs that Roddy had been furiously packing, so Barry was down to his sweatshirt and jeans. But whatever, it had been his lighter jacket anyway since there was no way he could have thrown anything wearing the one he'd outgrown while he was in prison, and they weren't going to be out here long enough to matter. And they weren't going to be using Roddy's jacket to transport anything no matter what Roddy argued; even with the addition of one of Barry's old sweatshirts over his t-shirt underneath he was still shivering a little.
A couple balls came in from an odd angle, missing them both but kicking up snow in their general direction, and since Barry'd be blind not to recognize Dad's jacket disappearing when he risked a look he didn't feel bad letting a couple really rip. And then tossed a couple more more towards where Monroe and Nick had been as Roddy folded and lifted the jacket quickly, scrambling towards the opposite end of the wall.
If either Monroe or Nick had had the same idea and were circling to get behind them this was going to end really badly, but whatever, they had to do something to even the odds. And he was willing to bet that Roddy was faster about packing snowballs than pretty much anyone.
He popped up again and caught Nick reading a throw, getting his own off quickly before ducking back down, and then braced himself and stood for a volley. And Monroe and Dad both nailed him. He hit the ground spitting out snow and then sent a less-than-aimed barrage of his own back. And then remembered to make a few lighter throws too, since they had to believe that Roddy was still over here with him long enough for Roddy to find a position.
A few more quick exchanges and he had to pause and make a few new snowballs since his pile was almost gone, but then his phone buzzed with the expected signal, and he stood and began to throw. Once he was clear of the shelter of the wall Nick, Monroe, and Dad focused on him, no surprise, but before they managed to pummel him too badly Nick lurched suddenly forward and swiveled. "He's behind—"
Something, probably a snowball to the face, cut him off, and from the look of things Roddy got Dad and Monroe as well as they turned. And since their backs were now to Barry, he took the opportunity to unload the remains of his stack.
Of course no one's surprise lasted very long, and Roddy was pretty thoroughly coated in snow by the time his mad dash back across the lawn was done, but considering that he was still cackling as he dove over the wall and landed beside Barry….
"That was so good," he said when he managed to catch his breath. "You should have seen their faces—"
Snow abruptly rained down on both of them, and Barry tried to shield him automatically, but if Dad hadn't yelled "Pause!" they'd both have ended up snow-covered lumps.
"Frank? What's up?" Nick called.
"That was my watch, turkey, stuffing, and bread should be done so we'd better go take them out of the oven and get the rest of the food started.
Dad and Monroe had made a literal diagram for how they were supposed to get lunch ready since the store instructions that Dad had brought home had assumed they had like ten ovens, and after a cautious glance over the wall Barry stood up and dusted himself off.
"I think that was cheating," Monroe said, brushing snow out of his beard as Roddy stood as well.
"Two against three and you all started it anyway," Roddy said. "We were just going to bury Nick's truck."
Barry and Roddy were the only two who'd gotten really snow-covered and the only ones who ended up needing to change and throw things in the dryer, and by the time they got back to the kitchen not only was the turkey, stuffing, and bread waiting under foil on the counter, so were the casserole dishes Monroe had brought, and there were more pots bubbling on the stove as the microwave timer counted down. Carrots, Barry noted as he leaned over the burners, apparently this was where the Brussels sprouts Dad had been worried about had ended up, gravy, obviously, some kind of fancy cranberry stuff….
"Barry, find a tablecloth, would you?" Dad asked. "And Roddy, I think you know where the plates are?"
"Sure," Roddy agreed, letting the foil fall back over whichever of Monroe's dishes he'd been peering into.
Nick joined them to help set the table a few minutes later, and for some reason Monroe bringing over glasses of wine for each of them made Roddy stick his tongue out in Nick's general direction, but fortunately for Barry's stomach it was only a few minutes after that when Dad waved at them to start moving the bigger dishes to the table.
"Hope everybody is hungry," Dad said as he brought the turkey over last, and Barry's chest caught a little when he realized that Nick had ended up where Mom usually sat. But Monroe was beside Nick and Roddy had grabbed the seat beside Barry, and the food smelled good even if it wasn't exactly what she would have made. And they were supposed to be making this something new.
