Fake It Until You… Well, Don't Have to Anymore

by OyHumbug

Needing evidence on a suspect but not having any probable cause, Nick decides to go undercover to further investigate Billy Capra. But he's not going in alone. He can't. Because, for his cover, he needs a girlfriend - a soon to be fiancee, so he calls in just one of his many, many chips with a new... friend. (Part Two of the Mutually Assured... Series)

2. Parts IV and V

IV.

Nick didn't know what to do.

For someone who had worked out every single detail of his plan to go undercover and find enough evidence to bring Billy Capra in, the one thing Nick hadn't considered was that he was now going to have to sell being in love with another woman.

And not just any woman. Oh, no! He had to convince his suspect that he was so in love with Adalind Schade that he was proposing to her.

At first, Nick had been relieved to have a point of reference. He'd loved. Hell, he was in love with Juliette. The ring he had with him was meant to be hers, because he wanted to propose and marry his long-time, live-in girlfriend. But Nick couldn't treat Adalind like he did Juliette. What he was doing with the Hexenbiest that evening wasn't cheating - of that he was confident, but it was dishonest, because Juliette had no idea of his… arrangement with Adalind, and, if he spoke to her, looked at her, touched her - even platonically - like he did his girlfriend, then that would make him feel disloyal, too.

In all likelihood, he was panicking for nothing. The room was already paid for, and their cover story - staying at the Bed and Breakfast to get engaged - would demand privacy. If they played everything right, they'd only have to pretend around Capra for a few minutes. The problem was that Nick's scene partner was Adalind. Anyone else and he wouldn't be worried, but the two of them couldn't be around each other for thirty seconds without bickering. Give them a few minutes, and they'd probably try to kill each other. Tempestuous passion was one thing, but murder?!

Yeah… Nick was pretty sure the Ziegevolk would see through that.

But then a cab was pulling up to the curb outside of the Bramble House, and Nick could see Adalind watching him from inside of the vehicle, a knowing, satisfied smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. He moved towards the car to open the door for her (that seemed like a soon-to-be fiancé thing to do), but Adalind was already there - helping herself, taking care of herself, and she was already talking, and, just like that, Nick was in the moment, his concerns all but forgotten.

"Do you know what I think would help with your credibility?" A conversation with Adalind was enough to give him whiplash. If it wasn't her pendulum moods - swinging from aggression to coquetry and then back again, it was her non sequiturs. "A five o'clock shadow, a little scruff."

He physically shook his head to clear away the confusion, but it failed to help. "What?"

And then Adalind was standing up on her tiptoes and cupping his jaw, any personal space between them disappearing with the intimate gesture. "These cheeks are as sweet and slippery as a cherub's bare wet ass." She laughed then, obviously amused by and enjoying herself. "Nick, dealing with a Grimm is bad enough. No one wants to put up with a prepubescent Grimm. And this face?" This time, she actually tapped her fingers against him. "It's the definition of a baby face."

The only thing he could think of as a response was, "for someone who's supposed to hate me, you sure think about me a lot."

"Nick," she chastised him playfully. "I don't hate you. We're dating. We're in love. We're getting engaged tonight."

He just sighed and stepped away from her, rounding towards the back of the cab to retrieve her luggage. "I'll get your bags."

"What bags," Adalind asked rhetorically. At the same time, she popped her shoulder out and indicated with a side tilt of her head the overnighter hanging on her sweater clad arm. If he wasn't mistaken, women called them totes. "This is all I brought with me." He'd thought it to be her purse.

"That's it?" He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or frightened by her light packing.

"We're not moving in, Nick; we're here for the night. I went home and changed after work, and we're here in this seemingly romantic setting about to be engaged. You do know what people typically do together to celebrate getting engaged, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware." He glared at her. "You do know that none of that will be happening tonight, right?"

"Just tonight?"

"Ever," he clarified. Was it just him, or had they already had this conversation just that morning? What was it with Adalind and her determination to bring up sex every single time they talked? Not that he was interested, but was she sincere, or did she just enjoy making him squirm?

"Look," she turned serious. The change in tone was a relief to Nick. "We both know exactly what this," and she gestured between them, "is. Don't worry, Detective, I have no interest in deflowering you." Nick snorted - went to protest her judgement of him, but Adalind didn't give him a chance to talk. "Plus, you're the one insisting we remain anonymous - a dirty, little secret. I didn't bring any kind of identification with me - no license, no credit cards, not even my cell phone." Adalind paused long enough to bat her lashes at him. "I'm just trying to do what you want, Nick."

"Ha," he barked out a harsh, unamused laugh. "There's not a chance in hell of that ever happening either!"

She became serious once again, ignoring him. "If I showed up here tonight for a romantic evening with more than just an overnight bag, we'd be doing something wrong, and your suspect would become suspicious… of you."

Grudgingly, Nick had to admit to himself that she had a point, but he didn't have to tell her that. The best he could offer her was, "do you want me to carry your bag for you?"

"Thank you, but, no, I think I can handle it." He went to step away and pick up his own small bag which was sitting on the sidewalk several steps away from them, but, before he could, Adalind spoke once more. "If you really want to do something for me, though, you could pay the nice cab driver. I'm sure he has better things to do with his night than listen to us… banter."

"Hey, you two can make eyes at each other all night for all I care. The meter's still running, so I'm getting paid for this."

"Are you serious," Nick asked her, frustrated by her behavior.

Adalind laughed heartily, tossing back her head in amusement. At that precise moment, a light breeze stirred the air around them, and it made her softly curled locks - locks that were usually so harsh and straight - dance. The genuine joy and her more relaxed appearance in general made Adalind look softer, more approachable. She wasn't any less beautiful or elegant, Nick grudgingly admitted to himself, but the woman standing before him in her jeans, and flats, with no expensive jewelry in sight was someone who he, as a detective, made more sense with. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have needed to take a cab ride tonight. I have a perfectly good car - hell, a perfectly good bed - at home, but you wanted me to sleep here with you tonight, and you insisted that I take a taxi, so pony up, Sweet Cheeks."

Reaching into his back pocket, Nick pulled out his wallet. After fishing out several bills, he handed them over to the driver who, for some reason, felt the need to offer a parting remark. "Good luck with that one! You have your hands full with her!" Before he could tell him no such luck required, because he didn't have anything with Adalind, the cabbie drove off.

Between Adalind's behavior and attitude, the fare, and what felt like an attack on his honor, Nick's mood, which had already been on edge, darkened and soured even more. As he and Adalind walked towards the B&B - each of them carrying their own bags, a distance far too great for two people supposedly in love separated them. Annoyed with the Hexenbiest and wanting her to feel the same resentment, Nick sought to impugn her ego. Adalind took great pride in knowing more about the Wesen world than he did, and she liked to rub that in his face and use it against him. Even if he couldn't compete with her knowledge - yet, he could insinuate doubt in her and treat her as an incompetent… just as she treated him sometimes. The tactic would have the same effect… or so he believed.

"Whatever you do, don't let Capra touch you. The last thing we need is for you to be in his thrall."

Adalind paused in front of the stairs to the Bramble House's front porch. She turned to face him, and she met his gaze evenly, no sign of irritation marring her features. "Then don't give him a chance to touch me. I'm supposed to be yours, right? Well, then, mark me. Claim me. The Ziegevolk will stay away from me if you make him stay away from me."

He should have known that she'd take his insult and somehow turn it to her advantage. Nick wasn't sure if it was the lawyer in her or the witch. Maybe both. But what really stung about Adalind's calm response was the fact that she was right.

So, Nick swallowed his pride, and he put a smile on his face. He wrapped his free arm around Adalind's shoulders and pulled her into his side. He was surprised when she didn't take advantage of their ruse to do something inappropriate and make him feel uncomfortable. Instead, she simply circled his own waist with her unoccupied arm, hooking two fingers in a belt loop on the opposite side of his jeans. She didn't cop a feel, and she didn't critique him or his hold on her. They walked up the stairs in tandem together, never missing a step. The entire chain of events was smooth, seemingly well practiced, and Nick decided it was safer for his peace of mind if he didn't contemplate why exactly that was the case. After all, one unpleasant Wesen mystery was already one too many. That last thing Nick needed was to investigate his own questionable actions.

There was no bell above the door, but the century Victorian still alerted its proprietor of their arrival with creaks and moans befitting a house of its age. "I'll be right with you," Billy Capra called out, and he was too true to his word for the Ziegevolk to have been doing anything of note for the case. He was talking as he rounded the doorway into the foyer, though his greeting came to an abrupt halt when his eyes landed on Nick. "Welcome to the Bramble…. Detective?"

"Wait, you know each other? You've been here before?"

Nick wasn't sure what Adalind was trying to accomplish with her questions, but it was Capra who actually answered her, saving him from scrambling to catch up with the Hexenbiest and whatever game she was playing now. "Oh, no! It's nothing like that. He just…."

"Relax," Adalind interrupted, smiling pleasantly at the suspect in reassurance before flashing a shockingly convincing look of adoration towards Nick. "I know he would never hurt me like that. He's too loyal, too dependable, too devoted." The man she described was exactly what she wanted to see from him before she revealed who she worked for, Nick noted.

It was that, or she was describing a dog.

Nick wasn't sure which option he liked better. What he did know, however, was that everything Adalind said was to sell their cover story and make Billy Capra feel at ease with them. He should have known that she'd be a natural at such emotional manipulations. Normally, such a skill would be a character flaw, but, now that she was using it to his advantage, Nick couldn't find it within himself to fault her. In fact, he appreciated the ability, because she was so good that she could drag his awkward and brittle self right along with her.

"Hank and I stopped by here yesterday to ask Mr. Capra some routine questions about our latest case. When I saw the place, I thought you might like it. So, I had a friend book it under his name… so as to keep it a surprise."

"Oh, I see how it is," she teased him, good-naturedly rolling her eyes. "You brought the work wife here first and then felt guilty. This is a pity date night."

Fawningly, the Ziegvolk simpered, "there could never be anything pitiful about you, Miss…?"

But Adalind didn't fall for the none too subtle hint, ignoring the request for her name. Somehow, she was neither rude nor obvious about it either. "Except my poker face. I can't bluff to save my life. It's so bad that Nick refuses to partner with me for game nights. It's probably the scientist in me," she reasoned with a self-deprecating shrug.

As Nick and the suspect both chuckled politely at her remarks, he found himself wondering just how complicated of a backstory had she made up for herself? And had she been thinking about it all day, or was she able to come up with it on the fly? But a scientist? Really?! It was Capra, though, who voiced the question. "A scientist, huh? Does that mean you're one of those crime scene techs we see on all those TV shows?" Was it just Nick or did Capra sound a little nervous?

"Definitely not," Adalind said with aplomb. "They have too many rules. I'm a chemist." The best lies always contained as much truth as possible, and the Hexenbiest was being completely honest about her lack of respect for authority. Plus, Nick figured he could see the connection between potion making and a mad chemist.

"I guess that's why you two work so well together," the Ziegevolk offered. Apparently, Adalind had put him at ease once more, because he was back to being his regular, ingratiating self. "You understand what physically attracts individuals to one another, and the Detective seems quite adept at reading people."

"We're just a match made in heaven," Adalind simpered.

"Speaking of heaven, I'd love to give you a tour of the garden. It's award winning. While beautiful at all times, I must admit that it is particularly enchanting at dusk."

He'd been quiet for a while, allowing Adalind to do most of the talking, but the last thing Nick wanted was to continue with their charade any longer than necessary. Plus, the point was to get access to the B&B and its grounds without Capra there beside him. As he moved to turn down the offer, Nick looked over towards Adalind, wanting to silently remind her that they were there to do a job. "That's nice of you to offer, but I think we'd just like to be alone." What surprised him was that Adalind was right there with him, returning his look and obviously on the same page. Once more, it was concerning how well they worked together when they weren't fighting. Or she wasn't trying to kill him.

"Of course," Capra immediately agreed. His easy acquiescence made Nick wonder if the Ziegevolk had other, better plans of his own. "Let me just go outside and get your bags for you, and then I'll show you to your room."

"There are no other bags," Nick declined the service, nodding to just the two overnighters he and Adalind carried.

Like they had known each other and been in a relationship for years, Adalind picked up the conversation's thread right where Nick left off. "What you see is all we brought. So, if you could just give us our key, and point us in the right direction…." She wouldn't be Adalind, though, if she didn't get in at least one sexual innuendo. "Nick's very good at taking directions. I promise. We won't get lost."

But, for once, it worked in his favor. It further supported their story that they were a couple blissfully in love and about to become engaged. It gave them an excuse to stay in their room the entire time they were there (as far as the suspect was concerned) and Capra an excuse to give them a wide berth. And it even made the Ziegevolk slightly uncomfortable, so he did exactly what Adalind asked, no objections.

Two minutes later, they were safely in their room… or, well, as safe as a Hexenbiest and a Grimm working together could possibly be, the door locked securely behind them.

V.

As soon as they were alone, Adalind went straight into the bathroom - not even stopping to put down her bag, and she had been in there ever since.

Not that Nick was complaining!

The break was nice… to say the least. It provided him with some quiet and calm to get himself recentered. As soon as she had stepped out of that cab, Nick had been distracted… which was something no one could afford. If he dropped his guard and Capra discovered why they were really there, Nick's very career could be in jeopardy. Worse, if he failed to find the evidence he was there for, then who knew how many more women the Ziegevolk would kidnap and rape.

So, while Adalind was doing god knows what in the bathroom (still not a complaint), Nick unpacked… the surveillance equipment he had borrowed from the precinct. Their room didn't provide him with views of the entire property, but, as luck would have it, it did overlook the garden - the one place it seemed like Capra took all his… conquests. If the suspect went anywhere, the tracking device Nick put on his car while waiting for Adalind to arrive would allow him to continue monitoring his behavior and movements, and, no matter what, eventually the Ziegevolk would have to go to sleep, right? When that happened, a wide awake Nick with too much on his mind (after proposing) to sleep could innocently wander the property. If he happened to locate a broken window or anything else of note to the case, he'd be obligated to (anonymously) report it… just like any other, non-cop guest.

Once everything was set up, Nick shrugged out of his coat and contemplated if he could get away with taking off his boots. On the one hand, it'd been a long day. After a sleepless night, he'd gotten up even earlier than normal so as to have time to corner Adalind at the cafe by her office. Then, like always, he and Hank had been tracking down leads all morning and afternoon. Besides coffee (which really didn't count), Nick hadn't put anything in his stomach since the night before. He was running on fumes, and the only way he'd manage to get something to eat was if Adalind had some snacks squirreled away in her tote.

Too bad Nick was pretty sure food never touched Adalind's way too expensive, leather bags. Hell, for that matter, he had a hard time imagining her eating anything besides bats, rats, and the souls of young children. He snorted out loud in amusement at his own thoughts… which were made even sweeter by picturing the Hexenbiest's reaction. The abrupt noise in the otherwise silent room was almost enough to drown out the soft moans suddenly emanating from the en-suite.

Almost.

Nick stopped where he stood, his tired feet forgotten, and just… listened.

She wasn't?

Right?

She wouldn't.

Would she?

This was an unsanctioned undercover operation. They weren't actually there to enjoy themselves, and they certainly weren't trying to draw further attention from the suspect. Yes, Nick had to grudgingly admit that Adalind had been great so far, but her role in their ruse was finished. She got him inside. That's all he needed from her. So, the… theatrics… weren't appreciated. Or warranted.

For a split second, Nick contemplated banging on the bathroom door and telling her to knock it the hell off. Luckily, he quickly changed his mind. Confronting the sounds Adalind was making would only encourage further conversation between them. No, willful ignorance was the route to go in this situation.

At least that would have been the route until those quiet sounds became higher, fuller, longer. Just… more. The moans became whimpers, and the whimpers became pants, and grunts, and cries. As Adalind seemed to climb higher and higher, Nick found himself wandering closer and closer to the closed door between them. She was teetering on the edge, that thin, razor line sounding almost painful.

A loud noise - flesh making contact with a wall perhaps… or maybe the side of the clawfoot tub - made Nick jump. Before he could adjust to his surprise, Adalind was whimpering his name, the vowel elongated and stretched until he could only imagine her burning lungs gave up and demanded a fresh breath, the last two letters coming rapidly and short after the first two seemed to just… float in the air between them. And then he heard a slight splash… like her body had been suspended in the air above the water just as her climax had been suspended - until it wasn't, Adalind only collapsing back into the tub once her release washed through her.

The sound of her panting… and the realization that, in all likelihood, Capra had heard everything Nick had just heard brought him back to himself, to the room, to the case. Real or not, he was afraid the sounds the Hexenbiest made would be with him long after that night, and he could only wonder in trepidation just when exactly they would come forth to haunt him. Would he be at work? Maybe he'd be alone in his aunt's trailer, and, while not ideal, at least then he'd be in private. Or what if he suddenly heard Adalind reach orgasm while in bed with Juliette?

It was this thought that was further souring his mood when Adalind reappeared in their room. Her hair was gathered in one of those perfectly messy but far from effortless buns on the top of her head - still dry even after her bath, and she'd changed again, putting on pajamas. "You know, we're not actually here to enjoy ourselves," he snapped… more angry at his own traitorous thoughts than he was at Adalind's actions.

"You're welcome, by the way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

After grabbing lotion from the bag she'd brought back out of the bathroom with her, Adalind answered, "there's no way a Ziegevolk as potent as your suspect will be able to not do something after that performance."

"Yeah, you're quite the actress," he sniped.

But Adalind just smirked, lifting her right leg and placing her foot against the mattress of their king sized bed. "Who said I was acting?" she queried with a challenging quirk of her brows before bending over her leg and applying moisturizer. It was then that Nick realized her Stanford crop tank had very deep arm holes, granting him, cursing him, with a generous view of the curve of her breast. Her braless breast.

Swallowing thickly and unable to look away - he wanted to look away, but he just… couldn't, Nick responded, "you mean you were…?"

"Masturbating," Adalind supplied for him. Without missing a beat or sparing him a glance - so, obviously, she wasn't doing and saying these things to torture him… at least, Nick didn't think she was, she switched legs before repeating the same massaging motions as she rubbed the cream into her pale, smooth skin. "We're not twelve. It isn't taboo. Or, at least, it shouldn't be." When she was finished, she stood back up to her full height… which wasn't much, especially in bare feet, tossed the lotion bottle back into her bag, and then faced him with her hands on her hips. "As for whether or not I actually climaxed, the answer is yes. Even though choking out your name was probably the worst cock block ever, I was still able to get the job done. I take orgasms far too seriously to fake one."

"Ever?"

"Faking an orgasm is a self-defeating prophecy, Nick. If you let a guy get away with a subpar performance but yet he thinks he got the job done, how will he ever get better? He'll think he knows what he's doing. There's no lesson in that."

"And you're all about the teachable moments, right?" He wasn't sure why he was pursuing this line of conversation, but, for some reason, there was just something about Adalind that seemed to bring out the worst in him. She made him crazy, and impulsive, and he forgot who he was, who she was, and what they were or were not supposed to be doing.

She just shrugged in response, apparently bored with their conversation. Reaching for her bag once more, Adalind removed a short, thin robe. Though she put it on over her shorts and tank, she didn't tie it. He would have preferred footie pajamas and a straight jacket, but he'd take what he could get. "So, what are you going to do if, by the time we leave tomorrow morning, you have nothing on Capra?"

"Oh, he's guilty!"

"That's not what I'm asking, Nick," she slightly scolded him. "If you don't find any evidence, you can't arrest him, and, if you don't arrest him, it's even more important that you maintain your cover story."

He shrugged. Really, he wasn't worried about the scenario she was presenting, because Nick was convinced there was evidence somewhere in or around the Bramble House. He just needed the chance to find it. "We can just say that you turned me down."

"After that?" With her thumb hitched over her shoulder, Adalind indicated the bathroom from which she had emerged victorious several minutes earlier. When he didn't respond, she started to wander around the room, contemplating her own question. "I guess we can always say that you couldn't afford a ring. After all, you're just a detective."

"I might not make your kind of money, but I sure as hell can buy my girlfriend a ring," Nick defended crossly.

"Well, as long as Capra doesn't know that…."

"He knows there's a ring. Hank told him."

"Wait," she stopped her pacing. Tilting her head to the side, Adalind observed him closely. When that seemingly didn't work, she advanced towards him. Nick found himself retreating from her, backing up, but, eventually, he ran out of space, and they ended up with his back against the wall and Adalind standing directly in front of him. "What?"

"He likes to tease me about it, because I can't figure out how to propose. But not all of us have as much practice in that area as Hank does," Nick defended himself.

Too bad he was purposefully avoiding what Adalind really wanted to know, and too bad he knew that she wouldn't let him get away with it. "You told me there wasn't a ring. Just this morning, you said that."

"No," Nick argued, sliding around her and trying to put as much distance between them as he could. "I told you that you wouldn't be wearing any diamonds."

"Semantics!"

"Says the lawyer," he quipped. Off her glower, he said, "look, I don't see why any of this matters. I will get Capra one way or another, and my relationship with and the ring I bought for Juliette are none of your concern."

"Oh, it most certainly is my concern!"

Returning her glare, he challenged, "how exactly do you figure that?"

"Because she's Kehrsite," Adalind snapped. Though she kept her voice low, there was no mistaking the ire and derision lacing the soft tones. "You are so not the whirlwind romance kind of guy, so that means you've been with this human for a long time. Seeing as how you only saw your first woge - me, I'm guessing - a few weeks ago, she certainly never tripped your trigger… so to speak, so there's no way she's wesen. And, because she's Kehrsite, she's a weakness for you. Weakness means vulnerability, and you getting killed by someone other than me at this point serves absolutely no purpose for me… not to mention the fact that our current arrangement would be a waste of my very valuable time and effort."

"Loving someone is never a weakness."

"It is when that love puts both of you at risk." When he didn't say anything, she lobbed several rhetorical questions at him. "Has she noticed your strange behavior yet, your disappearances, your unexplained absences? What about the increased amount of blood on your clothes, the more violent cases you're involved with now? Have you let her see your injuries; have you let her see how quickly you now heal from those injuries? Has she witnessed the violence for herself yet, because it'll happen. It's inevitable. Has she been targeted as a means to get to you? Has she been hurt because of you? When will you being a Grimm get her killed?"

"You know, you should have asked a few questions before you tried to kill my Aunt Marie, because I think the two of you actually would have gotten along. She, too, thought she should have a say in my relationship with Juliette, and she also told me to break up with her."

"If she wouldn't have had cancer, maybe I would have partnered up with her and sent a priest with a scalpel after you instead."

Since they had struck up their unorthodox and unholy alliance, they didn't talk about the details of their recent past, but Adalind's remark all but confirmed Nick's suspicions that, not only had she attacked his Aunt personally, but she had also sent all of the others after Marie as well until, finally, someone had succeeded. "I'm only going to tell you this once: stay out of my personal life. I don't like you, I don't respect you, and I don't trust you." At least, he didn't trust her in regards to anything besides her own instinct to survive. "So, I don't care what you think about my relationship with Juliette."

"It's your - or more likely her - funeral, Romeo, but whatever. Suit yourself." With no more care than if they had been discussing the weather, Adalind, once more, returned to her overnight bag where it was laying on top of the still made bed. She sat on the edge, pulling out and putting on slippers.

Retrieving something from his own bag which was situated on the desk by the door, Nick held the item out towards Adalind. "Here. Take this."

She didn't lift a finger. Instead, a finely shaped brow was raised in disregard. "What is that?"

"It's a cell phone."

"No. It's really not." The amount of disdain dripping from her voice would have puddled on the hardwood floors if actually a liquid.

"Fine. It's a burner phone. You know, untraceable?" Impatiently, Nick waved it at her, but, still, she refused to take it. "It's so we can communicate without anyone knowing about it."

"While I would normally appreciate your return to discretion after this morning, I cannot be seen with such an outdated piece of crap." Smirking, Adalind added, "I'm an Apple loyalist."

"At least you're loyal to something other than yourself," he quipped under his breath. Apparently, she could still hear him, though, because metaphorical daggers were sent careening in his direction. Once again, Nick was grateful that she had packed lightly. After all, he wouldn't have put it past her to bring weapons along otherwise. "Look, would you just take it?" When she wouldn't, he dropped it down beside her on the bed. "Between you and Monroe, I'm going to go bankrupt."

"Who's Monroe?"

Waving off her question, Nick quickly and easily replied, "he's a Blutbad who helps me with this Grimm stuff sometimes."

"Wait, there's someone else who helps you," Adalind asked, standing up. With hands clenched at her side and teeth gritted together, she continued, "there's someone else who could have done this?"

Without meeting her piercing, hostile, almost silver in its intensity gaze, Nick admitted, "he's not always a willing participant."

"Story of your life, apparently!"

"Plus, he's a guy."

"So," she argued petulantly.

Nick decided to just ignore her. "Anyway, my point is that I cannot afford to buy you a new iPhone every time we work together on a case. As you pointed out earlier, I'm just a detective, and you don't go into police work for the money. Plus, it's not like this Grimm gig pays me anything either."

"Well, besides the satisfaction of my company and cosmic brownie points." Adalind started sidling closer to him, and Nick immediately knew he would not like what came out of her mouth next. "But, if you're looking for a little side hustle…?"

"I'm going to get some rest while I still can." Nick plopped down on the room's sofa, knowing to leave the bed for Adalind… even if he was the one going to sleep. "It'll be a few hours before Capra goes out. If he goes out. And it'll be even longer until he goes to sleep. Wake me if there's any movement."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Don't know; don't care. That's your problem."

"Actually, no," Adalind argued with him. But Nick's eyes were already falling shut, and his breathing was evening out. With every word she said, Adalind's voice got quieter and quieter, farther and farther away. "I'm only here because you all but deputized me but without any of the fun perks like handcuffs, guns of either and/or both the taser and glock varieties, or even a siren so I can drive as fast as I want anywhere I want. So, now, I'm bored. Are you even listening to me, Nick?"

He wasn't.

The last thing he consciously remembered was emitting a fairly loud snore to which Adalind responded by hitting him in the head with a pillow. If he wasn't so tired, he might have marveled at how easily he had been able to fall asleep, locked in the same room with a woman who, less than a month prior, could have killed him. But he was tired, so he didn't marvel, and then he just… slept.

oooooooooo

A/N: While she's speaking about Nick's chin/cheeks and not his lips, Adalind quotes Liz Phair's "Supernova" in Part IV. Also, if you're interested, I have a Pinterest sub-board for this series (Mutually Assured...) where I post visuals to go along with the stories. But, be warned, I do work ahead, so teeny-tiny spoilers.

Thanks,
Charlynn