In which the guys have one more encounter with Eric and get ready to go back to Portland...

The guys managed to get most of the suite in order, but there was still extensive damage.

"I guess it's a good thing I won all that money," Monroe muttered.

"How much did you win?" Bud asked.

"Well, I didn't tell Rosalee yet, but our wedding and honeymoon are paid off... And hopefully the damages to the hotel room... I feel so badly for the people who have to clean this up..."

"I still think you were counting cards." Hank muttered.

"Just because I can doesn't mean I did... Well, I might have used the odds when making that last double-or-nothing bet... Point is, if I wanted to, I could have wiped Frau Dorothea out, but I didn't want to get myself or her in trouble... Anyway, we should probably go get something to eat... Oh, crap, that reminds me, I want to stop at the Tiffany's downstairs. I want to pick out a wedding present for Rosalee..." Nick raised an eyebrow.

"Tiffany's? Really?" Monroe shrugged.

"Well, they have watches, too. I've always been curious about them, but I've never been in a Tiffany's before..." The others agreed, and they headed down toward the shops. When they arrived at the shopping level, Sean's posture changed, and he yanked Monroe back behind a column.

"Dude, WHAT?" The other men huddled around them.

"Eric!" Sean whispered, pointing toward the Armani store across the way, where Eric was standing. He looked like he was waiting for somebody.

"Oh, Eric..." Monroe muttered, his eyes flashing red, "I think I need a word with him..." He turned to Sean. "What do you think?" The two must have had a telepathic moment, because they smiled at each other in a way Nick found disconcerting. Sean nodded.

"By all means..." Eric came closer to the column they were hiding behind, and Monroe reached out. In a lightning-fast movement, he grabbed Eric and pinned him to the column by his throat. The Blutbad put his face so close to the Prince's that Nick was worried Monroe was going to lick him.

"Hi, Eric," Monroe said, his voice dripping like poisoned honey. "I heard you were looking for me. A little birdy mentioned that you made threats against me, and against the woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with. Now, the part about you threatening me, eh, doesn't really bother me that much. But let me explain what will happen to you if anything should happen to Rosalee.

"You and Sean are not the only ones who have intricate little webs of connections. I've met a lot of people in my life, and since I'm a pretty nice guy, most of them like me enough to help me out. Many of them owe me favors. Some of them owe me huge favors. And not just here in the States: Canada, Mexico, Australia, most of Europe, I know a guy. Or I know a guy who knows a guy. Or I know multiple guys. So let's assume you do take Rosalee. And we're going to say 'take' because there is no way that she would leave of her own free will, especially now. Wolves and foxes mate for life, and she is mine and I am hers. But I digress. Suppose you did manage to steal her away from me. I will find you, either by tracking her myself or through my contacts. And Rosalee will fight you every step of the way as well. Between us, you will never be able to rest.

"Now, when I catch you... not if, when... the hows and whys of your punishment will be determined entirely by how well you treated her. If you've kept her well-taken care of, I shall merely maim you, as a reminder to never, ever get between a Blutbad and his mate. If you were stupid enough to harm her or mistreat her in any way, I will kill you. And if you kill her, that is the last mistake you will ever make; see, if you think I'm... what did you call me? Emotionally fragile? You have no idea. I am Bruce fucking Banner, man. See, I will not kill you; not Monroe, the Wieder Blutbad who is a vegetarian and does yoga and sits for hours at a time working with tiny gears; no, the Monroe who will kill you will be a Blutbad who has lost his mate and has nothing else to live for; by the time I am done with you, there will not be a body left to find." Monroe punctuated the sentiment with a squeeze to Eric's throat, and the Royal's eyes bugged a little. "So come after us; I fucking dare you. It will not end well for you. Now get the fuck out of here, and remember what I said: I can find you, and I have a lot of people who owe me big favors." Monroe let Eric go. "Come on, guys, I think we're done here." When the Blutbad turned his back, Eric grabbed him around the neck. In a blur of movement coupled with a sickening crack, Eric Renard was laid flat on his back on the floor in front of Monroe, his arm bent at a unnatural angle. It was likely broken. Monroe released his grip on the Prince's wrist, and squatted down.

"I. Wasn't. Kidding." The Blutbad stood, brushed his sleeves, and looked at his companions, who were staring at him wide-eyed. "What? Did you guys think I was joking?" Four heads shook. "Well, then, come on." They left Eric groaning on the floor. They rounded the corner and saw the Tiffany and Co. shop.

"Does, uh, anybody want to come in with me?" Monroe asked as they stood at the threshold of the store, clearly nervous about going in somewhere that fancy. Especially because he still had adrenaline coursing through his veins from having to flip Eric over his shoulder, probably breaking the Prince's arm in a few places. Nick had to concede that he certainly didn't look like a guy who should be shopping in there. Sean stepped up and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We're just looking. Unless we find something worthy of her." Monroe nodded, and the two men went into the shop together as Nick, Hank, and Bud watched the fountains. After a few minutes they, saw Eric pass, holding his arm. A few minutes after that, Hank spotted Dorothea wandering around, looking lost.

"Hello, Frau Dorothea!" Hank greeted her. She smiled.

"Oh, hello! You are Herr Monroe's friend!"

"Are you looking for somebody?"

"Yes! I was supposed to meet somebody last night and he never came; he then told me he would meet me today... But I do not see him..." The three men exchanged a look.

"Was his name Eric by any chance?" Nick asked.

"Yes! Yes it was!"

"Frau Dorothea, as... Herr Monroe's friends... we need to tell you that Eric is a very dangerous man. In fact, he threatened Monroe and Rosalee." The Mauzhertz girl's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

"But who would threaten Herr Monroe and his Schatz?"

"Somebody very terrible. Forget him. Do not see him. I don't think Herr Monroe would like if anything happened to you. And stay safe... Mausi." Dorothea nodded and scurried away in the opposite direction.

About half an hour later, Monroe and Renard came back out of the shop, the Blutbad carrying a Tiffany Blue bag.

"Did you get her a watch?" Bud asked. Monroe shook his head.

"Actually, no. I can get her something much better quality much cheaper through some of my contacts... I did look, they have a chronograph that was interesting, but they wouldn't let me open it up and take a look inside... Anyway, my mother always said that a lady should always have a good string of pearls, even if she never has anywhere to wear them. I don't think Rosalee has anything like that, so that's what I got her. And a pair of matching earrings. And a pair of diamond earrings for her birthday..." He turned to Sean. "She, um, doesn't need to know how much I spent. If she knew how much I spent on her, she'd freak out." The Prince raised his hands.

"I merely consulted, I did not see any price tags whatsoever."

"How much did you spend? If you don't mind my asking?" Hank said.

"Nope, not telling. Sorry. Suffice to say it's more than she'd be comfortable with, but she's worth every penny and then some." Hank smiled a little.

"Well, good for you, man. And hopefully you'll find excuses for her to wear them."

"I hope so, too. So I guess we should get something to eat, pack, and get ready to leave in the morning, huh?"

XxXxX

A little while later, the guys were back in the suite, silently watching the sun set over the Las Vegas Strip. They decided there probably wouldn't be any harm if they stuck to beer. Monroe was still fussing over his little notebook, his glasses sliding down his nose. Finally, Hank broke the silence.

"Monroe..." The Blutbad looked up.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about this weekend." Monroe looked up, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry it was such a mess. I'm sorry we're all sloppy drunks who couldn't keep our shit together and that you had to break Eric's arm..." Monroe shrugged and smiled.

"I actually think it was the best weekend I could have asked for."

"Really? You shittin' me?"

"Why would I bullshit something like that? My friends took me on a nice trip to a nice city, spoiled me rotten, and on top of it, I had some amazing sex with the woman I'm going to marry. Seriously, our second round? That wasn't sex, that was a religious experience... So even with the unfortunate parts, I'd say it was a pretty epic weekend." Nick snorted.

"Religious experience, huh? Care to go into more detail?" The Grimm asked with a smirk.

"Man, you guys are perverts. You really don't want to hear about that, do you?"

"Well, just saying, we'd like to know what you were up to while we were searching all over creation for you..." Hank commented slyly.

"Bud, you don't want to hear this, do you?" Bud shrugged.

"I may come off a little uptight sometimes, but I think it's because I've got kids. I think you'll understand when you and Rosalee have some... and I hope you do. It's hard work, being a parent; you need sense, endurance, luck, and a whole lot of balls, and I think you've proved many times over you've got all of the above..."

"Not to mention any kids you two have are going to be MENSA members and totally adorable," Sean commented.

"And we're going to spoil them to death," Nick added.

"...But anyway, point is, I enjoy a good marking story. They're always... oddly romantic..."

"Aww, Bud, you big softie!" Monroe smiled kindly at his friend. "Well, I guess I'm out-numbered... the first time we did it was just completely desperate; we didn't even make it to the bed. We just locked the door and went at it on the floor, still mostly clothed and she was still wearing the wig. When we finished, I remembered that I am, in fact, a gentleman, and I picked her up and carried her to bed. We rest for a few minutes, cuddling, and then she climbs on top and we start doing it again. Nothing matters except her. Then at some point, she climbs off me and goes over by the window, and the lights are shining in, reflecting off of her skin, and she is glowing. Like an angel... She beckons me to join her. I press her against the window and get back to it, and I hear her gasp; not a normal, heat-of-the-moment-during-sex gasp, but a sound of utter awe. And she makes me stop. The sun is rising over the Las Vegas Strip, and man, that was beautiful, with the mountains in the distance... I start going again, and we're watching everything... Then she turns to me, looks me right in the eye, and she is just awash in golden light... and she goes 'Mark me... Please.' Like, begging. And who was I to say no? A few minutes later, she lets me know she's ready... and we were both crying because it was just so beautiful and perfect and right... there are no words, guys. It was by far the most perfect sexual experience I have ever had..." Monroe took a swig of his beer.

"So how many times did you score last night?" Hank asked. Monroe nearly choked laughing.

"Well, he probably doesn't remember it, but Sean told us that I should, and I quote, 'give her a ride' for each of you. Which I did. Plus one for her, one for me, and I suppose one for good luck." Hank did the mental math.

"7 times? In 12 hours? You're bullshittin'. No man can do that!"

"Nope, still not bullshitting. Might I remind you, I am not only a man. I am a Blutbad who does Pilates and yoga who hadn't been able to mate in a few months... and we managed a couple hours sleep as well."

"So Monroe... while we're on the subject of your sex life," Sean sat back and tented his fingers, "where is the weirdest place you and Rosalee have had sex?" Monroe shook his head.

"Nope. She and I answered that question for you and Nick last night, and if you were too drunk to remember, I'm not telling you again." Sean held up his hands.

"Understood. So what still needs to be finalized before the wedding?" The guys talked long into the night, and eventually Hank and Bud decided to turn in. Once their door closed, Monroe and Sean turned to Nick.

"What do you want to do about Juliette?" Monroe asked quietly. Nick looked down at his lap, and felt a warm hand in his. Sean. Nick inhaled deeply.

"I'm going to leave... but I need a place to..."

"You can stay with me for a while," Sean interrupted, "at least, if that's okay." Nick smiled sadly. He felt Monroe's hand on his shoulder as well.

"We're here for you, buddy. We'll all go together and get your things. And Juliette left a very, very nasty voicemail for Rosalee today, so I'm sure Rosalee will want to come along. Nick smiled at his friends. Monroe slapped his legs and stood up. "Whelp, I think we should head off to bed... good night, guys."

"Night." Nick and Sean replied in unison. They made their way to their room and Sean shyly looked at the floor.

"So how do you want to proceed with this?" Nick said nothing, but cupped his boss's cheeks in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Sean willingly kissed back, gently at first, but soon the kiss grew deeper and more desperate and the Royal ran his hands through the Grimm's hair. They parted and Nick nearly ripped Sean's shirt off his shoulders, running his hands over the solid muscles. Sean gently pushed Nick backward on to the bed and climbed on top of him, showering him with gentle kisses.

"I hope we didn't drink too much," Nick sighed as Sean kissed his neck, "because I definitely want to remember this." Sean smiled, and they kissed again as he unbuttoned Nick's jeans.