i'm just me after all

Teenagers winding up on his door step sniveling about their awkward inter-species love lives are one thing (seriously, if he has to put up with one more crying jag from Barry about Roddy not liking him he might just kill the jagerbar), babies however are a completely different ball park.

He does the only reasonable thing he can think of and calls the police. Its nice for once, to have to police to be on your speed dial. 

Hank and Nick show up and the baby starts to cry when she sees Nick, its little baby face woging into that of a Blutbad, which explains why she was placed on Monroe’s doorstep and not someone else’s, at least, that’s what Nick thinks. 

Hank just laughs because this is the first baby that hasn’t taken to Nick, like ever, and this is funny to him. If Monroe weren’t in such a panic about having a crying child that isn’t his in his arms, he’d be much more liable to laugh, he’s sure of it. Instead he tries to shush the baby while Nick’s face falls. 

Nick slips into the kitchen and manages heat up the milk for the baby, which Monroe has never understood. 

“Nick is the baby guy,” Hank says, leaning against his counter, watching as Nick busies himself with the baby, which has finally calmed down in the presence of milk. 

“What?” Monroe asks, twisting his hands together as he watches them. 

“He just, if we get a call that involves a baby he goes for it like no bodies business, he wants kids. He keeps bugging me to settle down and actually procreate until he remembers that any child of mine is going to be messed up.” 

Monroe looks over at Nick, who’s smile is wide and loving in the face of a baby and his heart twists when he thinks of the way Nick looks after all the Wesen kids he’s picked up along the way. 

He sighs and shakes his head when Nick coo’s at the baby. He’s in for a long night. 

Nick doesn’t realize he’s doing it, how can he? Monroe is positive that Grimm books only mention how to kill a blutbad, not woo one. It’s not like Nick needs any help in that department, but he figures that Nick would like to know that he is wooing him. 

Its not like Monroe can just say it either, because Monroe really likes to avoid awkward moments, and Nick and awkward moments happen a lot, so he’d love to not have another testicle conversation. Because that was the epitome of awkward. 

So he doesn’t say anything, and he honestly thinks the wooing will stop, that Nick will finally get the picture and stop wearing red, that he’ll stop letting Monroe watch his back, but no, it just gets worse. One day Nick just grabs his neck and Monroe practically goes belly up in the worst way possible. It takes all his control not to tackle the other man into the ground. 

Speaking of which, play fighting was a really, really bad idea too. Monroe is staring to think there actually is a How to Woo Your Blutbad in Ten Easy Steps book in that trailer, because Nick has hit up the ten easiest steps. 

And he’s not stopping, the neck grabs become a thing, Nick pulling him in close to whisper in his ear, like Monroe doesn’t have enhanced hearing. Nick squeezes his neck gently and its all Monroe can do not to whine and beg for Nick to fuck him. 

It all comes to a head when Nick is watching some stupid game at his house and literally does a odd yawn and stretch that has his hand on the back of Monroe’s neck and Monroe can’t take it anymore, he really really really can’t. 

At least Nick doesn’t shove him off when Monroe kisses him. In fact the groan of approval makes Monroe positive that there’s a Wooing for Dummies book in that stupid trailer. 

Monroe should be concerned about something, but the world is tilting out of control and all he notices is that Nick keeps running a hand through his hair. He knows its a nervous trait, so he wants to stop and think of what could be making Nick nervous and then he remembers that he’s bleeding, and that’s probably what is making Nick nervous. 

He remembers Nick’s hands pressed to his side as he curses about the creature of the week and Monroe’s eyes flutter shut. 

“Monroe do not close your eyes,” Nick’s voice is panicked, and there’s a hand slick with blood on his face. 

“M’fine,” Monroe mumbles. 

“We’re almost to Rosalee’s she can help you, I promise, just please keep your eyes open.” 

“Kay,” Monroe says, and opens his eyes to look at Nick. 

He runs a hand through his hair again and Monroe realizes his blood is all over Nick’s face, its all over Nick. Monroe reaches a hand out for Nick, and Nick grabs his hand and squeezes tightly before starting a mantra that Monroe can’t make out. Or maybe its just his heart beat screaming at Monroe. 

—-

The next thing he knows he’s in Rosalee’s back room and Nick is hovering anxiously while Rosalee concocts something that he knows is going to taste bad. 

“How long was I out?”

Nick makes an anxious sound and grabs Monroe’s hand again. 

“Just a few hours,” Rosalee says, bottling her potion and handing it to Nick. “Once I got the poison out of your system you were able to heal the majority of it yourself.” 

Nick is still bloody, his eyes wide as he takes Monroe in. “Don’t you ever do something like that again,” he whispers fiercely. 

“Save you?” 

“Get hurt.” 

Nick’s heartbeat is still screaming at him, so he leans up despite the wound in his side and pulls him down for a slightly bloody kiss. “You’ll keep me safe though,” he says, before drifting off back to sleep. 

At first, she’s amused with the flowers, and the gifts that Monroe keeps leaving her at the shop, until she’s invited out to dinner with him. She accepts, because they’re friends, and she plans to make that clear, but it seems he’s only doing this out of a misguided sense of something, because he spends the whole meal talking about how Nick doesn’t like that particular wine that Rosalee is drinking, isn’t that funny? How uncultured can a man get right? 

Rosalee is still amused, Monroe is her friend and they’ve asserted that and he’s stopped leaving her gifts, but he still pines and refuses to deal with the fact that he’s in love with the only natural predator he has. It’s almost fate, if she believed in such things. 

The thing is, it probably wouldn’t be so amusing if Nick wasn’t in the exact same boat. She hears he has a girlfriend, but with the way the man never smells like anything resembling a female she has to wonder if its true. Not when he comes into her shop to check on her with a smile on his face and the stink of Blutbad scented into his very pores. 

“Why don’t you tell him anything?” She asks Monroe as they talk over herbs and healing remedies one night. She is emboldened by the wine in her hand, but she’s been meaning to ask for some time now. “Tell him how you feel, how his girlfriend wont ever understand our world because she’s not in it, she’ll never understand him.” She would continue, but Monroe has upset his coffee table and is standing there staring at her. He looks broken. 

“I can’t, he’d. I just, I can’t lose him.” 

Rosalee understands. She’s not amused, not anymore. It’s more sad than anything else.