Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of the show's characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: When I started this, it was supposed to go in a different direction altogether. But I found that story didn't want to be written. So, I let this take me where it did.
Warnings: temporary gender swap, transformation, magical shenanigans, angst, hurt/comfort, first time, romantic tension, sexual tension, animal traits and behaviors, canon typical violence, mild sexual content.
Mélange
Chapter One
Whichever dead moron wrote that time heals all wounds had been wrong.
Because it had been nearly forty-eight hours since Nick had slammed his way out of the house. And he was still burning angry. The kind of angry that sticks around like an oil slick, churning heartburn that doesn't want to stay in your gut. The kind that makes you feel half-possessed. Pacing around the house with exhausted energy. Hands clenched into fists that had stopped aching hours ago and now just prickled with pins and needles. Like he'd punched them into the concrete wall in his basement one too many times and it was just the dying nerve endings that remembered they were attached at all.
Nick had tossed himself into harms way again. And hadn't told him. Again. He'd almost died. Again. It was only because Nick missed dinner that he decided to drive by the man's house and-
He caught his reflection in the hall mirror and winced. He had a black eye, which was bad enough. But he hadn't slept and there had been a whole lot of yelling after he got the stupid idiot untied. Hyperaware that an unfamiliar blutbad's scent was all over Nick's house and they had about ten seconds to get out before everything got really fucking bad.
He still didn't completely understand why a blutbad had decided to make Nick her personal chew toy. Or how Nick had been decidedly not dead when he'd found him, tied to a pipe in his own basement. Well, other than the whole Grimm thing in general. Because, present company excluded, that was actually a pretty tame example of how blutbadden historically dealt with Grimms.
He was so caught up in it, he almost didn't catch the sound of clumsy footsteps clipping the curb outside. His head swiveled towards the door so fast he heard something pop. Because he knew that scent way too well for it to be anyone else.
Nick.
Of course it was.
Unfuckingbelievable.
He stomped towards the door, whipping it open before the idiot could knock. Ready to give him a piece of his mind. Nose twitching as the scent hit his nose and-
"Look, Nick. I don't care what you-"
He stuttered off into nothing. Blinking in surprise as a woman with short, jet-black hair stared up at him. Eyes as big as saucers.
"Oh. You're not Nick," he said intelligently. "I could have sworn I smelled- I mean... what can I do for you?"
The woman's face scrunched like she was dangerously close to tears. That was when the rest hit. Belatedly realizing she was wearing clothes way too big for her. That she smelled like Nick. That she was wearing the same thing Nick had been wearing when he'd last seen him. That she was here, female and sweet, looking up at him like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered. The only one who could fix whatever had her on the verge of tears.
It couldn't be.
"Monroe, I-" the woman who smelled like Nick trailed off when he took a step forward. Scenting the air in heavy, exaggerated whuffs. Because he could smell Nick on her. He could smell the faint stink the female blutbad had left on Nick's clothes. Her clothes. And he could smell-
No freaking way.
"Oh," he said faintly, rocking back on his heels as everything ceased to feel real. "Oh. Shit."
The woman bit her lip. Looking painfully small as the gape of Nick's shirt collar showed off the curve of her throat. Pale and pretty.
"Monroe," the woman tried, scent dipping. Upset. "It's me...I- I don't know what happened, but-"
And just like that, all the anger he'd been holding on to dropped right out of his gut.
"Nick...what the hell happened?"
He wasn't a stranger to the urge to comfort when it came to Nick. But admittedly, this was a whole 'nother level of an instinctual itch. Because Nick was standing in his house in too big clothes, looking so lost and so confused all he wanted to do was crowd into his space and maybe offer a blanket.
Nick flung her - his - arms to either side. Jacket cuffs nearly swallowing half his hand.
"I have no idea!"
His eyebrows broke atmosphere.
"Well, someone better because this- this is a lot!"
Nick's mouth curved down, more defensive than pissed as he hollered back.
"I woke up like this!"
Which, fair.
He figured coming to and realizing you had breasts, and everything breasts were usually accompanied with, would be rather alarming. But considering this was Nick they were talking about; Grimm related shenanigans was basically a given.
It was only in the pause that he caught Nick wiping her - his – eyes.
Oh god.
He couldn't handle tears.
Jesus Christ.
"This is weird," he offered weakly. Not sure if he should try and deflect, distract, or maybe just pretend he'd left an element on in the kitchen. Caught in that weird place where you want to be supportive, but not make them feel more uncomfortable than they already were.
Ugh, he wasn't good at this.
"Dude, you have no idea," Nick replied, visibly deflating. Eyes glinting with unshed tears as he looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly.
"You smell like you, just sweeter. Female," he offered, woging to get a better grasp on it. Able to recognize the underlay of Nick's scent. Where the male and female parts differed from another. Familiar, but also new. "I'm going to go cross-eyed."
Nick's mouth curved up in a shallow, mirthless smile. Chin sharp and perfectly framed by high cheek bones and the same short hair Nick had been sporting since the start. He looked exactly like, well, if Nick had been born a woman instead of a man.
It threatened to make him feel some sort of way.
He shook the dangerous train of thought away.
"I feel really stupid," Nick muttered, raking a hand through his hair until it stuck up in spikes. "I was fine until I got here. Weirded out, but fine."
He shrugged. Already feeling they were going to need something stronger than beer.
"Estrogen is powerful and not to be trifled with," he returned sagely. Pleased when Nick snorted. "Besides, you just woke up with lady-parts. That feels like a good reason to freak out to me."
"Thank you, Doctor Monroe," Nick hummed, smiling for real this time.
"Hey, we'll figure it out," he assured. Thinking about how insane his life had gotten since Nick had barged his way into it. "It's kind of what we do, huh?"
He wasn't sure what to do when Nick looked like he wanted to cry again.
At least this time he was smiling through it.
That was good, right?
"Okay, what the hell happened? Start from the beginning," he insisted after bundling Nick onto the couch with a bottle of stout beer. Remembering, when he opened his cabinets, that he usually didn't keep the hard stuff around anymore.
Nick made a face, but launched into it after a healthy swig.
"After we- after I left, I went to the trailer. I remembered my Aunt had been working on a volume about female blutbads. I thought maybe there was something that would help."
His eyebrow arched.
"You didn't think to ask the resident blutbad?" he panned incredulously.
Nick frowned. So far, their argument had been carefully parsed around. But now, here they were.
"Look, neither of us were in the right frame of mind for that conversation, okay?" Nick answered.
Honestly? He couldn't have agreed more.
He'd been so angry about Nick putting himself at risk. About not telling him he'd recently arrested a female blutbad for beating the shit out of her very human boyfriend. Then also not telling him when she escaped from jail and went on the lam. In fact, he'd been so angry he nearly bent his steering wheel driving them back home. Figuring the only thing that might make her think twice about coming for Nick would be having to cross into an unknown blutbad's territory.
That was the theory anyway.
And they were both still alive so far.
Which was probably the only good thing that'd come out of that night.
He hazed a frustrated breath before letting it go.
"You should have told me," he finally rasped.
Because honestly, that was pretty much what it came down to.
Nick blinked. Looking down at his beer, before looking back up again.
"You do enough already, Monroe. I thought I could handle it. Besides, she was supposed to be in lock up. When she realized I was a Grimm, it was open season on top of holding a grudge for booking her."
Nick was an idiot, but hell if he wasn't the idiot he'd apparently chose.
He shook his head, remembering the mist of red that had fallen over his vision when her scent hit his nose. Nick's yard. Nick's house. Nick. He was drenched in her. It wasn't a claim, but to him it almost hadn't mattered. She scent was where it didn't belong. Drowning out all the lingering notes he left on Nick's property, either in person or by proximity. And that had felt-
"I knew what I was getting into, getting shoe-horned into helping a Grimm," he pointed out firmly. Realizing that they never could have had this conversation that night. "Becoming friends with Grimm. Having dinner nights with a Grimm. All of it. I knew the risks. If she'd killed you, how the hell do you think I would feel? God knows what she was going to do to you. If I hadn't gone looking for you... "
It tickled something in his hind brain, laying it out like that.
Because it felt like he was on the cusp of saying something else.
"Why did you come? How did you know?" Nick asked, curious.
He shrugged. Aware his answer for this one was weaker.
"You missed dinner. Weren't answering my texts. What was I supposed to think?!"
But Nick had missed dinner before. He'd gotten back to him hours after he'd called or sent a text. It wasn't often, but it happened. Sometimes the delay was Grimm related. Sometimes it was because Nick was a Police Detective who turned the saying of being married to the job into an artform.
Like he said, he didn't have a good answer. He was neurotic and worried, and Nick was a magnet for disaster. And… and he like it best when Nick was here. He stalled there. Caught. It was a dangerous place to be. But at the same time, it felt like he'd been right here more times than he could count.
"Thank you," Nick said, startling him out of it. Voice quiet and feminine. Lovely, but already making him desperate to hear Nick's voice. "Thank you for getting me out. She- she said something while she was tying me up. Something about you. I think she knew about you. About you helping me."
He swallowed hard, but not for the obvious reason.
He'd already figured the female would have his scent.
She would have smelled him on Nick the moment he met her.
A Grimm with a blutbad's scent was an oxymoron. Not to mention a red-flag.
But Nick was looking at him in that way he'd been doing more and more lately. It was a look that never failed to make him feel itchy and restless. Because sometimes it showed too much. More than he was comfortable with. More than he understood. More than he was ready to try for.
"So," he said, clearing his throat. "You went to the trailer. Then what?"
As far as redirects went, it was clunky and obvious. But Nick took it anyway.
"I was reading my Aunt's volume when there was a sound outside. I got up to look out the blinds when my knee hit a side panel and a hidden drawer popped out. I was looking through it and found this mirror thing. It looked old. I was holding it, looking at myself and- nothing. I must have hit my head or something because the next thing I knew, it was the next day, and I was on the floor. I didn't realize anything was wrong until, well-" Nick shared, pausing to gesture at his chest. "Then I started freaking out."
Mirror thing?
"Like a handheld mirror?" he asked, squinting as he tried to picture it.
Nick nodded, fiddling with the label on his beer. The fingers were smaller than he was used too, more narrow and tapered. But still host to the same callouses from years at a gun range. That, at least, made the weight in the back of his throat a bit easier to swallow around.
"It looked old, really old."
Great.
"Alright," he decided, draining his beer and patting his pockets for keys. "First things first, we need to get that mirror."
Nick cocked her - his - head.
"Yeah?"
If his black eye hurt less, he would have rolled it. Disgustingly fond as Nick abandoned his beer on the coaster and nearly tripped over the too long leg of his jeans.
"Unless you want to stick around in that body long enough to discover why women have the right to commit justifiable homicide at least once a month," he quipped.
Nick made a face and bounded towards the door. Drowning in his clothes so thoroughly he was starting to wonder if they needed to make a pit-stop at Walmart so he didn't get arrested for kidnapping or worse.
It wasn't until they were in the car, hands brushing as they tried to buckle up at the same time, that he realized the excitement behind Nick's smile might have been because of the word: "we," more than anything else.
Huh.
The changes to Nick's scent were more obvious in the close confines of the car. And because he had enough self-awareness to admit he liked it – having always been a sucker for the sweet, earthy tones women put off - he quickly tried to find Nick – his Nick - underneath it.
It was the kind of thing that only got weirder the longer he thought about it.
Because he liked women.
He liked how they smelled.
He liked how they looked.
He liked a lot about them.
But… he wanted Normal Nick.
He liked how Normal Nick smelled.
Not this.
He shook himself, causing Nick to side-eye him from the passenger seat. Holding himself ridged when his eyes flashed red in the rear-view mirror.
"What is it?" Nick asked. Tugging at his jacket as it tightened around the chest, stuck in the fold of the seat. Highlighting the soft of small breasts.
Oh god, this was so fucking weird.
"Your scent," he admitted, not really thinking the explanation through as he left it there.
Sometimes he forgot Nick wasn't another blutbad who understood stuff like this.
Nick wrinkled his nose. Lifting her - his - arm to take a whiff.
"It's not that," he sighed, wondering if he could explain it without sounding like a deviant. "I know your scent. It's ingrained. Familiar. I could find you anywhere. Scenting is important to blutbads. You smell like you, but not you. It's messing with my head is all."
Nick looked at him for a moment, cheeks flushed. Drumming his hand on the arm rest before speaking.
"I read something about that. How in packs, scent is how blutbadden reaffirm group bonds. Even if they haven't seen each other in years."
He snorted, turning left at the stop light as they took the usual route to the trailer.
"I don't know how much your ancestors knew about us, other than how to kill us," he shot back. Sarcastic until he realized he should probably treat the moment a bit more gently. Blutbads had earned their reputation after all. "But the scenting part is mostly right."
"So, I'm pack?" Nick questioned. Pixie face so at odds with everything he was familiar with he had to hold himself back from recoiling.
Was Nick pack?
Something in him wanted to howl.
Yes.
No.
It hadn't started that way. Nick had been dangerous. A Grimm. Then, worse, a baby Grimm who had no idea what he was doing. So new to the job he'd decided a weider blutbad for a side-kick was a good idea. But slowly, eventually, things had changed. Nick had become pack. A friend. Blutbads didn't have many of those, but Nick had fit somehow.
Only, Nick wasn't just pack anymore.
He wasn't that type of stupid or that blind.
He just didn't know what to do with it.
He didn't know what the difference meant.
What he did know was that Nick was the guy he chased on the slightest chance he could be in trouble. Nick was the guy he cooked for. Who drank his coffee and dragged him out of the house at all hours of the day and night like it was a given he'd follow him. Nick was the guy he'd killed for. Bent his rules for. Nick was-
He pulled into the lot with his tongue thick and useless in his mouth. With Nick looking at him. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. So, he did.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely as they coasted to a stop. "Your pack."
For such an intimate thing, it somehow managed to fall short.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come.
Reference:
- Mélange: a mixture; medley.