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 Three

"So, you have some balls after all, weider..."

Her predatory sneer had his hackles up immediately. Already knowing he'd caught her off guard when he'd put on a burst of speed and lapped her. Forcing her to stop by lunging out of the brush less than two meters in front of her.

She'd snarled, woging as she flipped backwards. Putting space between them.

He had stood his ground. Eyes burning red.

Male blutbads had been killed for far less.

But here he was, deliberately making her heel.

He'd either gone insane or-

"You've claimed him," she hissed, claws sharp at her sides. Fangs visible behind lovely human lips as she spoke. "Disgusting."

"I don't want trouble," he growled. Posturing. Knowing his attempt to use his height to intimidate her was useless.

Holly had been feral, and a pup besides. This bitch was fully grown and sure of herself. The divide was massive. Female blutbadden were just as dangerous as males. And they usually had a chip on their shoulder to boot. He should know.

"You should have thought of that before you shacked up with a Grimm," she spat. "I'll be doing your pack a favor. A weider and a traitor? Hell, they'll probably thank me."

She wasn't wrong.

He cocked his head, taking in her scent. Able to pick up the stink of human fear. Fading like a distant echo. Figuring it said a lot that she'd chosen a human to abuse, rather than one of their kind. Projection and all that.

"What do you want?" he asked instead.

She chuckled darkly. Eying him like he was something to be pitied. Something she fully expected to deal with quickly so she could run Nick down and-

"Right now? I want you to try and stop me."

She woged, showing vicious, crooked teeth. He did the same. They moved in a tight circle, sizing each other up. But after a moment, he shook it off. He'd become a weider-blutbad to be more than this. He wanted to be more than this. He needed to try. He could give in places she might not. Maybe it would be enough to avoid bloodshed.

"He's different," he tried, knowing it was useless as soon as he opened his mouth. Watching as she shrugged off her rose long coat and let it fall into the wet leaves. "He's saved more wesen than I can count. He found a feral, a girl, one of us. He returned her to her pack."

She looked at him like he was particularly stupid.

"Grimms are killers," she snarled, glancing at her phone as it started to ring before tossing it on the ground and shattering it under her heel. "Just like us."

His claws shivered out from his nail beds.

Last chance.

"Back off. Leave town. He's under my protection," he growled. Pushing every inch of who he was and who he'd been into the words. "I haven't always been a weider."

The warning was clear.

But she just tossed her braid behind her with a confident flick.

"No," she replied, tone dangerous and low. Eyes flashing as she sank into a crouch. "I don't think I will."

He let her make the first move. Shifting fully as she blurred across the open space. Then- then he let all the control he'd worked so hard to build flow out of him like water through a sieve.

The horrible part was, he enjoyed it.

He was bleeding in more than a few places by the time he got the upper hand and hurled her into wide-set oak. Darker parts growling victory as she hit with a sickening thud. Standing over her as a wash of conflicting instincts surged like a rogue tide.

That this was right.

That he was right for protecting Nick.

For protecting what was his.

But there was an inconvenient truth attached.

Because he didn't want to kill anymore.

He would. He could. If he had to.

That was the thing.

Deep down, he probably didn't have to kill her.

But he wanted to.

Her neck was bleeding sluggishly, slow enough that it wouldn't be life threatening if she got help in time, when he heard Nick crashing through the undergrowth. Closing in like they had magnets between them.

That was the price.

The unhappy medium between instinct and who he was now.

She would have an alpha's scar, and the shame that came with it.

And he had blood. Retribution. Now he just needed her submission.

"You will leave," he growled, guttural and dark. "Or I'll find you and finish it. Do you understand?"

He licked his lips, smearing her blood across the back of his hand as he wiped his mouth. Keeping his boot on the small of her back as she scrabbled and hissed. Still trying to fight him. Willing himself to calm as her struggling slowed. Eyes almost downcast as she looked at him. Beaten.

"Just kill me," she rasped, blonde hair falling over her face. Hand tight around her neck as red welled between her fingers.

He could end it. By wesen law, it was his right.

"No," he returned, looking up as Nick broke the tree-line. Finding him, just as he did. Eyes no where else. "That isn't who I am anymore. And if I ever have to be that again, it will be for something worth it. Not you."

Nick was all he had the appetite for these days.

The she-bitch just stared at him. Wide eyes confused, cowed, but also grudgingly respectful as she slumped into the bloody grass.

He wasn't sure how much Nick heard, but there was something alive in the back of his eyes when he rested his hand on his arm. Something that had nothing to do with the blood smeared across his face or the wounds. He wasn't sure what it was, not exactly, but it was warm.

He'd just stepped out of the shower when he heard Nick's key turn in the lock. He cocked his head, listening. Doing nothing to toe the bathroom door closed or grab his robe as footsteps creaked on the stairs, moving towards the bathroom like he had an open invitation to every inch of his space.

And maybe he did.

Maybe that was what this was all about.

Or maybe Nick was trying to prove a point.

A polite knock echoed before Nick's upper half parted the steam. Leaning through the open door the same moment his hand drifted to the towel around his waist. Feeling a strange lack of embarrassment as Nick's gaze immediately went up and down the length of him.

"You okay?" Nick asked, eying him through the mirror as he turned back to the sink. Wiping the crusts from the slash that went from cheek to hair-line. It was ugly, but shallow.

The surprising part was that he was okay.

The female was alive, in jail, and not getting out anytime soon.

Nick was fine.

He was fine.

He nodded, water pearling off the ends of his hair. Trickling down his shoulders and back. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to untuck the towel and scrub it through his hair. He wanted Nick to see. He wanted to smell it. He wanted- but he didn't.

"You know, I could have sworn we had an argument about this a few days ago," Nick pointed out. Tone light, but not without teeth as he stepped closer. Almost crowding him. Too close. Much too close.

His chest heaved like he barely fit inside himself. Self aware enough to be wary as his wolf stretched.

"And don't say it's different. Because it isn't," Nick continued, so close he could feel the warmth of him against his back. "You sent me to the hospital thinking she was heading there. But you knew she wasn't."

He lifted his eyes from the sink. From the bit of hair wrapped around the drain and the chip in the porcelain. His eyes glinted red as he stared at Nick's reflection. Body humming with something. Something electric. Needy. Possible.

"Monroe?"

Nick was even closer now, stealing his space. And it made him want to turn around anyway. To see what the man would do when they were grazing skin, towel and pant-leg.

"Should I not speak to you for a few days to make it even?" he finally replied, scrambling for humor to hide behind as he tried to make the urge to do more die a swift death.

Nick huffed a laugh, knuckling the back of his head awkwardly.

"I'd rather you didn't, considering what happened last time."

The female Nick should have smelled better to his nose.

But she hadn't.

His Nick was the only version that smelled right. That smelled good.

He canted his head, inhaling throatily. Watching Nick watch him. It was only because he was close and paying attention that he caught the way Nick's scent thickened. Aroused. Smelling like that and looking at him. The sound that left him was more a growl than anything. Nick shouldn't have been able to tell the difference. But there was more to it. It was an overture. An invitation. Only maybe he did know, because Nick's mouth went slack, stepping forward like he wanted to-

Looking back, the oncoming breakdown was mostly because it had been Nick who'd moved first.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come.