Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 12/?
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Monroe watched Nick hightail it out of the house as if it weren’t obvious that he was trying to get Monroe to feel some sort of ownership toward the place. Of course Monroe couldn’t help but feel warm at the thought that despite everything, Nick still wanted him around. However, he knew it was only a matter of time before he did something else - made some decision or failed to make a decision - that would result in Nick’s losing other things - people - that mattered to him. Monroe was a bad bet, and it was important that he left Nick before something else tragic happened. He’d promised to stay until he was fully healed, but in the meantime, he had to remind himself that this was Nick’s house, not his. He was just a temporary roommate.
That thinking was hard to remember a few hours later when he answered the door and was pushed aside by what had become a passel of young adults.
“Welcome back!” Holly threw her arms around Monroe’s neck, and his own automatically rose to hug her back.
“Uh, thanks,” he said, stunned at the unexpected onslaught.
“Pizzas coming through,” Hanson said, shoving past them in front of Barry, both of whom had arms filled with pizza boxes.
Distracted, Monroe asked, “What - ”
“Don’t worry. We got a vegetarian one too,” Gracie said, smiling as she followed the boys into he kitchen.
Holly pulled back, frowning as she sniffed. “You smell different.”
Monroe was saved having to try to explain something he didn’t understand himself by a loud thunk and Barry’s shouted, “Monroe, where do you keep the paper towels or, I guess, a broom or something?”
Monroe sighed, turning toward the kitchen as he shoved the door closed. He couldn’t think of a single accident where paper towels and a broom could be used interchangeably. It didn’t help that he hadn’t thought to buy either of those - or a mop, for that matter.
Two hours and five pizzas later (including the side salad Monroe had made and insisted they eat), they all reclined in the empty living room that easily lost that echo when suddenly filled with four more people talking at the same time.
They’d all caught him up on their lives, including that of the missing Roddy, who was buried in the snow in Ohio for his second year at Oberlin College’s Conservatory of Music. “He’s doing some sort of intensive class there for Winter term, but he’ll be back for about a week before spring term starts,” Barry said, flushing a little.
Monroe frowned at Barry’s strange reaction but let Barry explain about bouncing from job to job. He made a point of saying that he hadn’t gotten into any ‘real’ trouble lately. Monroe nodded appreciatively, choosing not to ask for clarifications on Barry’s use of ‘real’ and ‘lately’. He just decided to interpret it that Barry hadn’t been arrested in the past two years and be happy about that.
Gracie and Hanson had gotten their GEDs and were living together in a small apartment that Nick had co-signed with them. Gracie was working at McDonalds, and Hanson was doing odd jobs around town, again thanks to Nick and his connections. Gracie was saving a few dollars every paycheck for classes at Portland Community College. She blushed and grinned when Monroe told her that he was proud of them both - and not surprised at all at how well they were doing. Hanson hid a small grin behind another piece of pizza.
Holly was a freshman at Marylhurst University, just outside of Portland. Still quite shy and uncomfortable around strangers, she liked that she had the option of taking online courses and could still live at home. She explained that she and Gracie hoped that one day Gracie could transfer there with the credits she’d earn from Portland Community College, and maybe they could room together.
Holly grinned as she leaned against Monroe, nibbling on her third piece of pizza. She’d barely stopped touching him the entire evening as if worried that he was going to disappear again when she turned her head. Two years ago, Monroe had been convinced that his leaving town was the best thing for everyone, including the kids, as he’d thought of them once they started coming around, leaving stuff at his house, complaining that he never had any ‘good stuff’ to eat with their mouths filled with food from his refrigerator. But now that he sat there watching them, seeing how much they had grown during his absence, he wondered how much he’d been deluding himself.
The entire time he braced himself for the questions, uncertain what he was going to tell them. Since he’d returned, he made a concentrated effort not to think about any of it, and he hadn’t talked about it with anyone - except a few things he’d let slip to Nick. The kids had already seen and experienced way too much of the darker side of life; he wasn’t planning on adding to that. But no one mentioned his departure. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“So, ready to go?” Barry stood, wiping the crust dust off of his black jeans.
It took a few seconds for Monroe to realize that Barry was looking at him - and not asking him about the last two years. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah. We’re supposed to take you to the DMV to renew your license and then go furniture shopping. Well,” Barry amended, “I’m just driving.”
“We’re your moral support,” Holly beamed.
“And we’re also supposed to make sure you don’t buy something crappy,” Hanson added.
Gracie punched her brother. “That’s not what he said!”
“He didn’t say those exact words,” Hanson admitted, “but that’s what he meant.”
“He meant that he wanted to make sure that Monroe bought what he wanted, not just what was on sale,” Holly said.
“Yeah, and only new stuff,” Barry added.
“Nick put you up to this?” Monroe knew he was a bit behind, but it had been a long time since he’d been around so many people, and these kids had had a way of making his head spin even two years ago.
Barry rolled his eyes as he started to pick up the pizza boxes. “How’d you think we knew where you lived?”
Monroe acknowledged the point and went upstairs to get his things while the kids cleaned up the pizza.
Before he knew it, he was riding shotgun, trying not to cover his eyes as Barry tore down the road, his attention everywhere but on the road in front of him.
The trip to the DMV went surprisingly fast. Monroe suspected it had more to do with the looks of displeasure tossed his way as the kids behaved atrociously, worse than the toddlers three rows down, than anything else. After that, Barry changed the plan slightly, taking them to a car lot owned by “this guy I know”.
Monroe leveled a glare at him. “If I buy a car from this lot, am I going to have to be worried about serial numbers and visits from Nick’s cop friends?”
“No!” Barry said, hands raised instead of on the steering wheel. “He’s an old school friend of my dad’s. Sometimes he lets me detail the cars and stuff. He’ll give you a good deal. He and dad are pretty close.” Barry gave him a steady look, letting him know that the owner was also a Jägerbar.
Partially appeased, Monroe tromped inside, followed by the kids, and let Barry have a few minutes with the owner. Monroe figured Barry was explaining that his group consisted of a couple of Blutbads and a couple of humans and that they all came in peace.
By the time Monroe stood in front of his 2011 Jetta SportWagen, he felt a little shell-shocked. It didn’t help that as soon as he’d said, “I think I like this one,” the others had piled into Barry’s car and disappeared in a flurry of excuses, leaving him to deal with the paperwork alone, furniture shopping assistance apparently forgotten.
His pocket vibrated, and he dug his out phone and answered it, still feeling a bit dazed.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
“I bought a car.” He thought about the insurance he’d just gotten without having done any research or listing the pros and cons of different companies.
“Well, I was hoping for furniture, but you were definitely going to need your own transportation. I’m assuming that everything went fine down at the DMV, then?”
“Nick, I just bought a car.” He hadn’t even checked the blue book value of the thing. Sure, he’d thought to ask for that history report, but he’d barely haggled, and for all he knew, he could’ve just spent thousands over what the car was worth.
Nick paused. “You just said that.”
And then there were the monthly payments. He was committed for, like, years. “A car. I’m standing in front of a car that I just bought.”
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
Despite the worry he heard in Nick’s voice, Monroe couldn’t contain the slightly hysterical laugh. “I haven’t driven in two years.”
“Monroe. Are your hands shaking?”
Frowning at the bizarre question, Monroe looked down to find the keys in his hand rattling against each other. “Huh. How’d you know that?”
“Where are you?”
Monroe told him, still staring at the key ring. “I need to put the house key on here,” he muttered absently.
“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”
Monroe was still patting at his pockets with one hand, trying to find where he’d slid the house key earlier, the other hand still holding the phone, when Nick pulled up right in front of him. He gave the Grimm a smile that felt a little tight around the edges. “Hey. That was fast. I can’t find the house key.” He suddenly had a terrible thought and looked up at Nick fearfully. “Maybe I left it in the door. All a thief would have to do is just turn it and walk inside. I don’t remember setting the alarm.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we only have some plates and rutabagas,” Nick said, taking the keys from Monroe’s hands.
“You don’t like those plates, do you?” Monroe asked mournfully.
“They’re very nice plates,” Nick said gently. “Why don’t you get into my car.”
“I just bought a car,” Monroe said. He realized he was being vague and gestured toward the purple vehicle beside him.
“Well,” Nick said, lips pursed, “you won’t have trouble finding it in a parking lot.”
“It’s used,” Monroe explained.
Nick smiled slightly. “I’m sure it is. Go get in my car, and I’ll be right back.”
Monroe knew that this strange fog he was in wasn’t natural, that he needed to snap out of it, but he found that he wasn’t quite sure how to do that. He tried closing his eyes but only got dizzy, so he figured he’d better do what Nick told him and made his way to Nick’s passenger seat.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Nick had been so focused on Monroe that he hadn’t considered that the owner of the lot was Wesen. So it took a few minutes for him to explain that he was a friend of both Barry’s family and Monroe - and that he wasn’t there to kill the Jägerbar. Eventually, the owner recalled hearing about the Grimm and his friend the Blutbad from years ago, and he promised that he’d given Monroe a good deal, agreeing to keep the car free of charge until Nick could get someone to drive it to the house. Nick had already decided not to ask someone from the lot to do it, because while his address wasn’t confidential, he was leery at having a strange Wesen just roll up into their driveway.
Within half an hour, he and Monroe were pulling up to the house, Monroe still worried and muttering about the house key. After confirming that Monroe hadn’t actually left the key in the door - although he had indeed forgotten to set the alarm, they went inside, heading straight for the kitchen, the only place downstairs that didn’t contain an echo.
Monroe was now convinced that he must’ve dropped the key somewhere, maybe at the DMV, because he hadn’t really been many places that day. He started rambling about how they had his address at the DMV, and he might’ve just as well have written it on the key itself, and Nick’d had enough. He grabbed Monroe and started patting him down, the move surprising Monroe into silence. He found the key in Monroe’s back pocket, squished underneath a surprisingly hefty new wallet. It had taken quite a bit of willpower not to squeeze a little; those Pilates really did a body good.
“Wow, thanks!” Monroe gave Nick a brilliant grin that fell a few seconds later, leaving him looking confused. “I know I’m not, I’m not acting right.”
“It’s okay,” Nick said. “Why don’t we go upstairs?”
“Okay,” Monroe said, preceding Nick. He looked back for a moment. “We need some furniture.”
Nick couldn’t help but laugh around his worry.
They separated at the top of the steps, but Nick quickly changed into his pajama pants and worn t-shirt before padding across the hall and through Monroe’s open doorway. Monroe had already turned down the bed and smiled faintly when he looked up at Nick. Without discussion, Nick turned off the light and slid under the blankets on his side of the bed, automatically sliding his body halfway over Monroe’s. He felt Monroe sigh, the Blutbad’s body relaxing slowly.
After a few seconds, Monroe asked, his voice loud in the silence, “How was the rest of your day?”
“I met with the bail bondsman and have a few people I need to track down.”
“Human or Wesen?”
“The bail bondsman or the skips?”
“Either? Both?”
“Donna - the bail bondsman - is definitely human. I’m not sure about the skips yet.”
Monroe yawned, then shifted a little, his hand resting on the one Nick had over Monroe’s chest. “So she gave you the… the skips, and then what do you do?”
“It’s not as exciting as it looks like on TV,” Nick said. “I spent the rest of the day on the computer and the phone, researching their friends and family, trying to find out as much information as I could. Tomorrow, I’ll start knocking on doors. Actually running into the skip just hanging out at his mom’s house would make things so much easier, but it’s usually a little tougher than that.” He kept talking until Monroe’s breath evened out in sleep, eventually falling asleep himself to the gentle beat of Monroe’s heart under his hand.
The next morning, Nick yawned and rolled over, his arm hitting the empty side of the bed. Rubbing at his eyes, he rose, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, strode downstairs to find a determined Monroe writing furiously on one of the notepads. “G’morning,” he muttered, heading straight for the coffeemaker, only to find his travel PPD coffee mug full and waiting for him. Smiling, he took a healthy sip and stood beside Monroe, leaning against him and the island to get a better look at the notepad. “What’cha writing?”
“So I figured out that I probably freaked out yesterday due to poor planning,” Monroe said so quickly that Nick wondered how many cups of coffee he’d already drunk. “I started thinking about how I’d just gotten insurance and bought this car without doing my due diligence -”
“Due diligence,” Nick repeated, hoping the coffee would kick in sooner rather than later.
“Yeah. If I’d done my research, made sure that I was making a good financial plan, then I wouldn’t have gone off the rails and needed you to come rescue me.”
Nick frowned. “You know I don’t mind rescuing you.” In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.
It was Monroe’s turn to frown. “If I’m in a pit about to be skewered by, say, a Drang-Zorn, then yes, by all means save me. But all I did yesterday was buy a car. As a grown-ass man, I should be able to handle that by myself.”
“You’re still recuperating -” Nick started.
“All I have left are the scars.”
Nick wanted to say something about the emotional scars being the toughest to heal or something to that effect, but he just wasn’t awake enough for that kind of conversation. Instead, he pulled the pad out of Monroe’s grasp, ignoring the, “hey!” from his side.
“So, this is your to do list for the rest of the week?”
“The day,” Monroe said.
Nick arched an eyebrow. “That’s a lot to take on.”
“We’re both sick of sitting on the floor. As God as my witness, we will have furniture by tomorrow,” Monroe said with a little grin.
“That reminds me.” Nick pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and after a few seconds, pulled out a credit card in Monroe’s name. He held it out to the man beside him. “Just charge the furniture on there.”
“I can’t do that,” Monroe protested.
“You’re on the account, and your name’s on the card. There’s a fairly sizable amount in there, so you shouldn’t have any problem.”
“No, I mean I can’t spend all of your money.”
Nick tried to keep from looking hopeful. He’d hoped Monroe would protest, maybe offer to purchase some of the furniture himself. It had nothing to do about the money. He wanted Monroe to feel invested, and purchasing furniture could be the beginnings of his tie to the place.
“I need to pay rent at least.”
Anger quickly rose inside of Nick, and he slammed the card onto the counter. “You’re not my fucking tenant; you’re my friend!” He snatched his keys from the end of the counter and slammed out of house, peeling down the driveway.
By the time he reached the gate, he regretted his outburst, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and apologize. He might have said it anger, but he meant it. He’d been bending backwards to show Monroe how important he was, and he was getting awfully tired of working so damn hard. He wasn’t about to stop, but he just needed some time to shore himself up.
And he’d forgotten his damn coffee.
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 12
Monroe watched Nick hightail it out of the house as if it weren’t obvious that he was trying to get Monroe to feel some sort of ownership toward the place. Of course Monroe couldn’t help but feel warm at the thought that despite everything, Nick still wanted him around. However, he knew it was only a matter of time before he did something else - made some decision or failed to make a decision - that would result in Nick’s losing other things - people - that mattered to him. Monroe was a bad bet, and it was important that he left Nick before something else tragic happened. He’d promised to stay until he was fully healed, but in the meantime, he had to remind himself that this was Nick’s house, not his. He was just a temporary roommate.
That thinking was hard to remember a few hours later when he answered the door and was pushed aside by what had become a passel of young adults.
“Welcome back!” Holly threw her arms around Monroe’s neck, and his own automatically rose to hug her back.
“Uh, thanks,” he said, stunned at the unexpected onslaught.
“Pizzas coming through,” Hanson said, shoving past them in front of Barry, both of whom had arms filled with pizza boxes.
Distracted, Monroe asked, “What - ”
“Don’t worry. We got a vegetarian one too,” Gracie said, smiling as she followed the boys into he kitchen.
Holly pulled back, frowning as she sniffed. “You smell different.”
Monroe was saved having to try to explain something he didn’t understand himself by a loud thunk and Barry’s shouted, “Monroe, where do you keep the paper towels or, I guess, a broom or something?”
Monroe sighed, turning toward the kitchen as he shoved the door closed. He couldn’t think of a single accident where paper towels and a broom could be used interchangeably. It didn’t help that he hadn’t thought to buy either of those - or a mop, for that matter.
Two hours and five pizzas later (including the side salad Monroe had made and insisted they eat), they all reclined in the empty living room that easily lost that echo when suddenly filled with four more people talking at the same time.
They’d all caught him up on their lives, including that of the missing Roddy, who was buried in the snow in Ohio for his second year at Oberlin College’s Conservatory of Music. “He’s doing some sort of intensive class there for Winter term, but he’ll be back for about a week before spring term starts,” Barry said, flushing a little.
Monroe frowned at Barry’s strange reaction but let Barry explain about bouncing from job to job. He made a point of saying that he hadn’t gotten into any ‘real’ trouble lately. Monroe nodded appreciatively, choosing not to ask for clarifications on Barry’s use of ‘real’ and ‘lately’. He just decided to interpret it that Barry hadn’t been arrested in the past two years and be happy about that.
Gracie and Hanson had gotten their GEDs and were living together in a small apartment that Nick had co-signed with them. Gracie was working at McDonalds, and Hanson was doing odd jobs around town, again thanks to Nick and his connections. Gracie was saving a few dollars every paycheck for classes at Portland Community College. She blushed and grinned when Monroe told her that he was proud of them both - and not surprised at all at how well they were doing. Hanson hid a small grin behind another piece of pizza.
Holly was a freshman at Marylhurst University, just outside of Portland. Still quite shy and uncomfortable around strangers, she liked that she had the option of taking online courses and could still live at home. She explained that she and Gracie hoped that one day Gracie could transfer there with the credits she’d earn from Portland Community College, and maybe they could room together.
Holly grinned as she leaned against Monroe, nibbling on her third piece of pizza. She’d barely stopped touching him the entire evening as if worried that he was going to disappear again when she turned her head. Two years ago, Monroe had been convinced that his leaving town was the best thing for everyone, including the kids, as he’d thought of them once they started coming around, leaving stuff at his house, complaining that he never had any ‘good stuff’ to eat with their mouths filled with food from his refrigerator. But now that he sat there watching them, seeing how much they had grown during his absence, he wondered how much he’d been deluding himself.
The entire time he braced himself for the questions, uncertain what he was going to tell them. Since he’d returned, he made a concentrated effort not to think about any of it, and he hadn’t talked about it with anyone - except a few things he’d let slip to Nick. The kids had already seen and experienced way too much of the darker side of life; he wasn’t planning on adding to that. But no one mentioned his departure. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“So, ready to go?” Barry stood, wiping the crust dust off of his black jeans.
It took a few seconds for Monroe to realize that Barry was looking at him - and not asking him about the last two years. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah. We’re supposed to take you to the DMV to renew your license and then go furniture shopping. Well,” Barry amended, “I’m just driving.”
“We’re your moral support,” Holly beamed.
“And we’re also supposed to make sure you don’t buy something crappy,” Hanson added.
Gracie punched her brother. “That’s not what he said!”
“He didn’t say those exact words,” Hanson admitted, “but that’s what he meant.”
“He meant that he wanted to make sure that Monroe bought what he wanted, not just what was on sale,” Holly said.
“Yeah, and only new stuff,” Barry added.
“Nick put you up to this?” Monroe knew he was a bit behind, but it had been a long time since he’d been around so many people, and these kids had had a way of making his head spin even two years ago.
Barry rolled his eyes as he started to pick up the pizza boxes. “How’d you think we knew where you lived?”
Monroe acknowledged the point and went upstairs to get his things while the kids cleaned up the pizza.
Before he knew it, he was riding shotgun, trying not to cover his eyes as Barry tore down the road, his attention everywhere but on the road in front of him.
The trip to the DMV went surprisingly fast. Monroe suspected it had more to do with the looks of displeasure tossed his way as the kids behaved atrociously, worse than the toddlers three rows down, than anything else. After that, Barry changed the plan slightly, taking them to a car lot owned by “this guy I know”.
Monroe leveled a glare at him. “If I buy a car from this lot, am I going to have to be worried about serial numbers and visits from Nick’s cop friends?”
“No!” Barry said, hands raised instead of on the steering wheel. “He’s an old school friend of my dad’s. Sometimes he lets me detail the cars and stuff. He’ll give you a good deal. He and dad are pretty close.” Barry gave him a steady look, letting him know that the owner was also a Jägerbar.
Partially appeased, Monroe tromped inside, followed by the kids, and let Barry have a few minutes with the owner. Monroe figured Barry was explaining that his group consisted of a couple of Blutbads and a couple of humans and that they all came in peace.
By the time Monroe stood in front of his 2011 Jetta SportWagen, he felt a little shell-shocked. It didn’t help that as soon as he’d said, “I think I like this one,” the others had piled into Barry’s car and disappeared in a flurry of excuses, leaving him to deal with the paperwork alone, furniture shopping assistance apparently forgotten.
His pocket vibrated, and he dug his out phone and answered it, still feeling a bit dazed.
“You okay?” Nick asked.
“I bought a car.” He thought about the insurance he’d just gotten without having done any research or listing the pros and cons of different companies.
“Well, I was hoping for furniture, but you were definitely going to need your own transportation. I’m assuming that everything went fine down at the DMV, then?”
“Nick, I just bought a car.” He hadn’t even checked the blue book value of the thing. Sure, he’d thought to ask for that history report, but he’d barely haggled, and for all he knew, he could’ve just spent thousands over what the car was worth.
Nick paused. “You just said that.”
And then there were the monthly payments. He was committed for, like, years. “A car. I’m standing in front of a car that I just bought.”
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
Despite the worry he heard in Nick’s voice, Monroe couldn’t contain the slightly hysterical laugh. “I haven’t driven in two years.”
“Monroe. Are your hands shaking?”
Frowning at the bizarre question, Monroe looked down to find the keys in his hand rattling against each other. “Huh. How’d you know that?”
“Where are you?”
Monroe told him, still staring at the key ring. “I need to put the house key on here,” he muttered absently.
“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”
Monroe was still patting at his pockets with one hand, trying to find where he’d slid the house key earlier, the other hand still holding the phone, when Nick pulled up right in front of him. He gave the Grimm a smile that felt a little tight around the edges. “Hey. That was fast. I can’t find the house key.” He suddenly had a terrible thought and looked up at Nick fearfully. “Maybe I left it in the door. All a thief would have to do is just turn it and walk inside. I don’t remember setting the alarm.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we only have some plates and rutabagas,” Nick said, taking the keys from Monroe’s hands.
“You don’t like those plates, do you?” Monroe asked mournfully.
“They’re very nice plates,” Nick said gently. “Why don’t you get into my car.”
“I just bought a car,” Monroe said. He realized he was being vague and gestured toward the purple vehicle beside him.
“Well,” Nick said, lips pursed, “you won’t have trouble finding it in a parking lot.”
“It’s used,” Monroe explained.
Nick smiled slightly. “I’m sure it is. Go get in my car, and I’ll be right back.”
Monroe knew that this strange fog he was in wasn’t natural, that he needed to snap out of it, but he found that he wasn’t quite sure how to do that. He tried closing his eyes but only got dizzy, so he figured he’d better do what Nick told him and made his way to Nick’s passenger seat.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Nick had been so focused on Monroe that he hadn’t considered that the owner of the lot was Wesen. So it took a few minutes for him to explain that he was a friend of both Barry’s family and Monroe - and that he wasn’t there to kill the Jägerbar. Eventually, the owner recalled hearing about the Grimm and his friend the Blutbad from years ago, and he promised that he’d given Monroe a good deal, agreeing to keep the car free of charge until Nick could get someone to drive it to the house. Nick had already decided not to ask someone from the lot to do it, because while his address wasn’t confidential, he was leery at having a strange Wesen just roll up into their driveway.
Within half an hour, he and Monroe were pulling up to the house, Monroe still worried and muttering about the house key. After confirming that Monroe hadn’t actually left the key in the door - although he had indeed forgotten to set the alarm, they went inside, heading straight for the kitchen, the only place downstairs that didn’t contain an echo.
Monroe was now convinced that he must’ve dropped the key somewhere, maybe at the DMV, because he hadn’t really been many places that day. He started rambling about how they had his address at the DMV, and he might’ve just as well have written it on the key itself, and Nick’d had enough. He grabbed Monroe and started patting him down, the move surprising Monroe into silence. He found the key in Monroe’s back pocket, squished underneath a surprisingly hefty new wallet. It had taken quite a bit of willpower not to squeeze a little; those Pilates really did a body good.
“Wow, thanks!” Monroe gave Nick a brilliant grin that fell a few seconds later, leaving him looking confused. “I know I’m not, I’m not acting right.”
“It’s okay,” Nick said. “Why don’t we go upstairs?”
“Okay,” Monroe said, preceding Nick. He looked back for a moment. “We need some furniture.”
Nick couldn’t help but laugh around his worry.
They separated at the top of the steps, but Nick quickly changed into his pajama pants and worn t-shirt before padding across the hall and through Monroe’s open doorway. Monroe had already turned down the bed and smiled faintly when he looked up at Nick. Without discussion, Nick turned off the light and slid under the blankets on his side of the bed, automatically sliding his body halfway over Monroe’s. He felt Monroe sigh, the Blutbad’s body relaxing slowly.
After a few seconds, Monroe asked, his voice loud in the silence, “How was the rest of your day?”
“I met with the bail bondsman and have a few people I need to track down.”
“Human or Wesen?”
“The bail bondsman or the skips?”
“Either? Both?”
“Donna - the bail bondsman - is definitely human. I’m not sure about the skips yet.”
Monroe yawned, then shifted a little, his hand resting on the one Nick had over Monroe’s chest. “So she gave you the… the skips, and then what do you do?”
“It’s not as exciting as it looks like on TV,” Nick said. “I spent the rest of the day on the computer and the phone, researching their friends and family, trying to find out as much information as I could. Tomorrow, I’ll start knocking on doors. Actually running into the skip just hanging out at his mom’s house would make things so much easier, but it’s usually a little tougher than that.” He kept talking until Monroe’s breath evened out in sleep, eventually falling asleep himself to the gentle beat of Monroe’s heart under his hand.
The next morning, Nick yawned and rolled over, his arm hitting the empty side of the bed. Rubbing at his eyes, he rose, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, strode downstairs to find a determined Monroe writing furiously on one of the notepads. “G’morning,” he muttered, heading straight for the coffeemaker, only to find his travel PPD coffee mug full and waiting for him. Smiling, he took a healthy sip and stood beside Monroe, leaning against him and the island to get a better look at the notepad. “What’cha writing?”
“So I figured out that I probably freaked out yesterday due to poor planning,” Monroe said so quickly that Nick wondered how many cups of coffee he’d already drunk. “I started thinking about how I’d just gotten insurance and bought this car without doing my due diligence -”
“Due diligence,” Nick repeated, hoping the coffee would kick in sooner rather than later.
“Yeah. If I’d done my research, made sure that I was making a good financial plan, then I wouldn’t have gone off the rails and needed you to come rescue me.”
Nick frowned. “You know I don’t mind rescuing you.” In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.
It was Monroe’s turn to frown. “If I’m in a pit about to be skewered by, say, a Drang-Zorn, then yes, by all means save me. But all I did yesterday was buy a car. As a grown-ass man, I should be able to handle that by myself.”
“You’re still recuperating -” Nick started.
“All I have left are the scars.”
Nick wanted to say something about the emotional scars being the toughest to heal or something to that effect, but he just wasn’t awake enough for that kind of conversation. Instead, he pulled the pad out of Monroe’s grasp, ignoring the, “hey!” from his side.
“So, this is your to do list for the rest of the week?”
“The day,” Monroe said.
Nick arched an eyebrow. “That’s a lot to take on.”
“We’re both sick of sitting on the floor. As God as my witness, we will have furniture by tomorrow,” Monroe said with a little grin.
“That reminds me.” Nick pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and after a few seconds, pulled out a credit card in Monroe’s name. He held it out to the man beside him. “Just charge the furniture on there.”
“I can’t do that,” Monroe protested.
“You’re on the account, and your name’s on the card. There’s a fairly sizable amount in there, so you shouldn’t have any problem.”
“No, I mean I can’t spend all of your money.”
Nick tried to keep from looking hopeful. He’d hoped Monroe would protest, maybe offer to purchase some of the furniture himself. It had nothing to do about the money. He wanted Monroe to feel invested, and purchasing furniture could be the beginnings of his tie to the place.
“I need to pay rent at least.”
Anger quickly rose inside of Nick, and he slammed the card onto the counter. “You’re not my fucking tenant; you’re my friend!” He snatched his keys from the end of the counter and slammed out of house, peeling down the driveway.
By the time he reached the gate, he regretted his outburst, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and apologize. He might have said it anger, but he meant it. He’d been bending backwards to show Monroe how important he was, and he was getting awfully tired of working so damn hard. He wasn’t about to stop, but he just needed some time to shore himself up.
And he’d forgotten his damn coffee.
Entry with links to each chapter