So this has grown... a lot... I have no explanation for it. About three chapters ago I had thought it was done. Then more braincell explosions happened. Now I'm carefully guessing two or three more chapters till this monster is finally finished. Very careful guessing here!
Hope you all still enjoy yourselves :)
The bruises had bloomed the next morning and Nick sighed, wincing a little when some of them pulled in an uncomfortable way. He made it through paper work and bantered back and forth with Hank and Wu when the sergeant dropped by. They had a court appearance later that day, but it was a quick thing and both men called it a day.
Nick did his weekly grocery shopping, added some of the items Monroe favored, and dropped that bag off at his friend's home. While he mooched off Monroe now and then, mostly coffee and beer, he did repay him. Monroe grumbled about it, as usual, but he smiled when he discovered the goodies, including the – in Nick's opinion - hideously overpriced beer.
It came as no surprise that Sean was at his home, waiting patiently on the porch. It looked ridiculous, the tall, well-dressed man in his dark winter coat and red scarf, complete with leather gloves, sitting there. There was a paper bag next to him and Nick had to smile when he saw the logo. It was from a small coffee shop that made the best brownies and muffins Nick had ever tasted.
"I gave you a key," he called. "For a reason. Please don't tell me you lost it."
"I didn't." Renard rose fluidly, bag in hand.
"So why are you here?"
"I considered it rude to presume."
iRude to what?/i Nick stared at him, felt the echoes of the bond and shook his head. "You live as much at my place as I do at yours, Sean! You're always welcome to just walk inside when I'm not there. Nothing has changed. At least I thought nothing has…"
"A lot has changed, Nick."
He frowned. "Not that."
When the door closed after them did Nick give in to the temptation to kiss the taller man. Renard's hands were gentle, exploring, as they caressed him, mapping out his bruises. Of course he knew where they were; it was one of those weird abilities.
"I want you here," Nick told the other man when they separated. "Always."
Shadows chased each other through the green eyes, giving Nick an idea just how much the past weeks had hurt Renard. The psychic connection was back, but the regnant was still rather careful when it came to certain things. Like simply walking into Nick's home without the other man being there.
Nick kissed him again, with a lot more force, trying to apologize, to chase away the shadows and the guilt.
Renard's hand came to rest over Nick's ribs, warm and heavy against the bruise he had there. Nick had seen it in the mirror this morning. It was big and ugly and painful.
"You have grown so much," Sean murmured and brushed a gentle kiss over Nick's forehead.
"You still kicked my ass."
"You didn't use every weapon at your disposal."
Nick froze and pushed him back, gray eyes ablaze. Renard watched him, expression quizzical.
"Don't even joke about it," the Grimm said coldly. "And never mention it again!"
"Nick…"
"It's not a weapon!"
"It could be."
"No!"
The regnant closed the distance again. His touch was tender as he caressed Nick's cheek.
"Training all your abilities is important."
"This is something between us, Sean. Only us. It's nothing I could use in a fight against a lowen or a skalengeck or whatever. And I draw the line at using the bond as a weapon."
Renard inclined his head in acceptance. "Then I will always beat you, Grimm."
Nick snorted. "We'll see."
A kiss was brushed over his lips and Nick pulled the other man flush against him, enjoying the moment, though his body protested. He ached everywhere.
"You need to recover," Renard rumbled.
"I'm fine. Had worse."
"Hm, I know."
Nick smiled. "And I heal fast."
"That I know, too."
They ended up on the couch, watching a movie, having take-out and eating lot of unhealthy food, including the muffins and brownies Renard had brought along.
Anyone who knew Sean Renard would never have pictured the normally so imposing and well-dressed captain to lounge in black sweat pants, a black t-shirt, barefooted, eating chips out of a super-size bag. Not that the calories would make any difference. He burned up excess pretty fast.
Nick was dozing when the credits ran and he grumbled when Renard push-shoved him into the bedroom.
But he followed.
And he slept another eight hours, his body needing the recovery time.
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Life fell into place again. Slowly, not with a bang, the bond a warm constant between him and Renard. He still had to prod his mate sometimes, mostly until it really hurt, to get him to open up immediately, to involve the Grimm.
It worked.
With hiccups.
Nick called Frank Rabe a few more times, asking for clarification on some matters, getting a better understanding each and every time. He had come to realize what Renard's position really meant; not just power, but responsibility for more than a few wesen and their families. He was juggling duties, he was running territory that was larger than just Portland, and he had a cover to uphold: that of a police captain. He was mayor and king and sole leader and whatnot in one.
It was more than Nick had to deal with, being just a detective and a Grimm. It was a lot more and each decision wasn't done lightly.
Aunt Marie's proposal for the deal to end her life hadn't been considered lightly.
Yes, he understood that now.
And he honored her sacrifice, her decision and the heritage he had received.
Work was still the no-fly zone, so to speak. Renard treated him as usual, Nick was simply a detective, and their lives together were spent completely anonymously, away from prying eyes.
Maybe Hank suspected something; he dropped hints as to Nick's love life once in a while. But Nick didn't fall for the traps and simply countered with teasing his older partner about his latest female interest.
Nick kept training with Monroe, the blutbad only too happy and eager to try out all the different weapons in the trailer. He liked watching Nick wield them, commenting on his moves, his stance, his speed. Nick knew he was improving and he was getting a hang of things.
Renard continued to train with him, too. In his own way. And not always as an ambush. Nick enjoyed those sessions, too, not just because some of them ended very enjoyably. It wasn't always about sex. It was about learning more about his mate, getting to know him in a new way, and seeing Sean fight was amazing. It was truly breathtaking.
Sean Renard was breathtaking. Seeing him lose himself in his true nature, become what he was, let go and just… be… Nick had to smile at the sight and he knew it was a very sappy, silly smile.
Picking up on the emotions, the regnant cocked his head, feeling along the bond. Nick just shrugged, shields down, letting his mate feel what he felt. The other man's expression was priceless as he couldn't contain his reaction, as the gentler emotions broke through. Composure went out the window lightning fast and Nick smiled more.
Then he swung at Renard with a roundhouse kick and the regnant went flying. The stunned wheeze that followed that maneuver turned into a laugh. Sean was on his feet, none the worse for wear, easily able to take such a blow, and grinned.
"Congratulations, Grimm."
"Trained by the best," was the cheeky reply.
He would never hurt his mate through their psychic link, but he would use it now and then to get the upper hand.
The next move was Renard's and it was a fast, hard kiss that had Nick want more, but he stopped himself from launching a new, very different attack.
Sean grinned knowingly.
Yep, training was fun. A lot of fun.
And now he knew how to involve the bond to a degree that could handicap the regnant, but not cripple him, and it had very… interesting results.
Nick planned to make good use of it. Not just for the fun of it but also because it was yet another unknown factor that was evolving more and more. It was both a strong point and a weak spot, and he had to handle himself here as well.
Being a Grimm was never dull and the learning never stopped.
Renard looked down at him, eyes filled with knowing and understanding. His hands were running over Nick's ribs, his back, calming and centering. His lips brushed over one temple.
"You are not my weakness," he murmured, apparently getting very good at picking up such things. "You are my strength."
Nick let the soothing caress blank his mind, let it whisper across the connection, and he knew how much he was the other man's balance and stability, but he also realized that a mate was a dangerous weapon for anyone to use.
He had no intention to be caught off guard easily.
He had no intention to let him get hurt.
Ever.
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It was at the beginning of February that she called. Renard had been mostly out of contact with his older sister due to so many responsibilities crowding up on him, so much that had moved back on his list of priorities while he dealt with the broken bond and, as a result, regaining Nick's trust. Simply because they were physically back together and the bond was healthy once more didn't mean he could just lean back and let things happen.
He trusted Nick. He always had. And he involved his mate. He explained things, went over past cases to give Nick an insight into what had been going on behind the scenes. Take the Lowen Games. Nick didn't have to like the truth behind it, but he finally understood that the gladiator-like games hadn't just been an old tradition recently revived; it had been the regnant's way of dealing with the unsavory characters of his protectorate.
Nick learned that human morals and ethics didn't always apply to wesen matters, and that his mate was primarily a Guardian and only as a secondary profession also an officer of the law.
When Mireille called, Nick had gone off on a stake-out with Hank and Renard was working through a stack of mails on his laptop. He checked the called id and sighed when realized it was her.
"Mireille," he greeted her neutrally.
"Sean!" She sounded as cheerful as always. "Am I calling at an inopportune time?"
"Yes. I'm working."
"You're always working."
"What do you want, Mireille?"
"Oh, you are in a dapper mood, brother," she teased. "This is simply a social call. I wanted to know how you and Nick are doing."
"Fine."
"Really?"
Renard sighed. "You talked to Nick," he stated.
"He gave me the same lines, Sean. And of course I talked to him. We talk a lot. More than you and I, actually."
"Miri…"
"You told him. The truth about his aunt."
He sighed. "Nick."
"Like I said: we talk. And I love your mate. He's a dear. He told me what happened, what he did, and I know how painful that must have been for you and him. I'm glad things smoothed over."
Renard leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you know everything. Why call me?"
"Sisterly love and worry?"
He chuckled. "Right."
Up until the day his older brother Maurice had decided to 'test' the bond, had come into Sean's territory unannounced and attacked the regnant's mate, there had been no direct family contact. Mireille had talked to him after that. Within the six months following Maurice's attack, Sean had had more contact with his sister than in the prior six years.
And she had met Nick, whom she had talked to through texts, emails and phone conversations before seeing him in person.
The contact had persisted. Even with Renard himself.
Yes, Nick had changed a lot for him. He had even managed to install a sense of family in wesen who weren't known for close bonds that went outside their own mate and offspring.
"And Nick is truly getting to me," Mireille confessed. "His idea about family and support. I simply had to call you."
Sean smirked. "Right."
"You are my brother, Sean. And while family is a different concept for him, I like him a lot. I'm very glad this worked out for both of you."
"Thank you. You could have sent a mail."
"And miss the chance for such a lovely chat? So, Sean, tell me about the last weeks..."
tbc...