The Friends You Make Here… by BymagaJones 7/?
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Monroe wasn’t sure how it happened, but eventually, everyone started spending their time at his and Hap’s house. At first he was kind of self conscious at the rundown look of their neighborhood, their house, their furniture, their appliances…
But no one seemed to notice.
Hank and Wu eventually brought in another sofa that they’d gotten from somewhere for free, and Juliette contributed some sort of chair made with some kind of gel inside. Monroe tried it once when he was alone and had to crawl out of it using some very ungentlemanly positions. But Juliette and Rosalee liked it, and Monroe found Hap fast asleep on it at various times, limbs hanging off at almost impossible angles. A used microwave appeared in the kitchen one day, and while Monroe didn’t plan on using it, he noticed the excited chatter when the others found it.
Nick spent most weekends with Monroe, staying at his apartment closer to the campus for convenience during the weekdays.
And Hap started dating Lenore, the study group girl, who seemed to adore the ground he stumbled upon. She was smarter than he was but just as good hearted. And even better, she was a Blutbad determined to walk a path similar to Monroe and Hap.
Monroe found himself making meals for ten, eight people and an additional two servings for Hap and Wu, whose metabolisms had to be unnaturally fast.
Juliette met Renard, a senior majoring in International Relations at JT and Global Studies at GN, something none of them had ever heard of happening. Wu maintained that Renard was some sort of freak of nature, which was only reinforced by his mysterious aura and refined stature the one time they’d met him. Juliette started spending more time with him and less with them, which ended up being okay with everyone once Hank finally wore Rosalee down and she agreed to date him.
One evening the others sat in the living room studying while Nick’s iPod played with the speakers he’d brought over. Most of Monroe’s class work now tended to be hands-on, so he used his free time to make a salad to go with the chili that was slowly cooking on the stove while he tried not to pout at the fact that he’d been relegated to playing Christmas music only two hours a day while the others were around.
He felt arms wrap around him and leaned back into Nick’s chest.
“I’ll surprise you one day,” Nick vowed.
Monroe smiled. He couldn’t explain to Nick that he’d smelled his boyfriend before Nick even walked into the house, and he could effortlessly sense which room Nick was occupying. And of course there was the fact that the hairs on his arms rose whenever Nick drew close. The first two things were a result of who he was. The last was a result of who Nick was to him. Which turned out to be Everything.
“So I was thinking about Christmas,” Nick said, his voice muffled by one of Monroe’s Christmas sweaters.
“Just let me know what time you need to be at the airport,” Monroe said, forcing back the part inside him that raged at his mate being so far from him for almost two weeks. The Thanksgiving long weekend had been difficult, but that’d been before Monroe had taken Nick into his bed, before their scents had merged. This time was going to be hell.
And they hadn’t even talked about their plans for Winter Term.
“Actually, Aunt Marie is going to be working out of the country, so I’m going to be staying in town. I was thinking that if - ooph!”
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 expected Monroe to be happy that he was staying. What he hadn’t expected was to be enveloped and shoved against the door to the backyard. He wasn’t prepared when Monroe kissed him, but suddenly nothing mattered but getting closer to this man.
He wasn’t sure what pulled them out of their fog, but he looked up to find the others standing just inside the kitchen, staring at them.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Wu asked, “So, is dinner ready?”
Nick hadn’t quite spoken the truth about his aunt, but she’d seemed relieved when he’d called her with his plans to stay at school for the holiday.
“Are your friends staying in town?”
“Just one.” The most important one. “I’ll be hanging out at his house.”
“I’ll send you your Christmas present.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he’d told her. “We can exchange gifts the next time we see each other.”
“Okay. Be good. Be safe.”
“You too.”
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
The days leading up to Christmas were the best Monroe ever remembered. Wu had left for his family’s house the moment his finals were over, and Hap and his friends took off soon after that. Juliette flew off to somewhere in Europe with Renard (Nick had demanded an itinerary and contact information just in case), and Nick drove Hank to the airport while Monroe took Rosalee and Lenore to the bus station. Monroe drove back to the house to pick up Nick, and they immediately went grocery shopping. Monroe made sure they got the best organic turkey and other foods he couldn’t grow himself while Nick seemed to spend his time trying to sneak bags of potato chips and cookies into the cart. Monroe complained, but most of it remained in the cart as they checked out.
Once they got home, they didn’t feel the need to leave. Monroe cooked, snuggling under the blanket with Nick in the living room, watching old movies when he didn’t need to be in the kitchen.
Nick decided that clothes weren’t necessary since it was only them, but Monroe vetoed that idea quickly, which turned out to be a good idea. Nick had met a few people in the neighborhood, but all of them seemed to stop by for short visits, most of them with plants or small gifts for Monroe, who never failed to send them back home with containers of food and snacks he’d made. Nick got the idea that this was something they did often, and he liked the idea of a community rallying around Monroe. It made him seem much less alone.
Christmas morning, Nick felt Monroe start to slide out of bed and tightened his arm around Monroe’s waist. “Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled.
Monroe groaned, dropping a kiss on Nick’s head. “I have to put the turkey in the oven.”
“I’m the only one eating the turkey. We can have peanut butter and jelly for all I care.”
“You say that now, but you’ll complain if we sit down to a huge meal of peanut butter and jelly.” Monroe said, but he curled back around Nick.
“How about I make it worth your while?” Nick curled a leg over Monroe’s hip and slid closer.
Monroe groaned, pushing until he lay on top of Nick. “The turkey can wait a few minutes.”
“Just a few minutes? I’m insulted. Where’s the romance?”
“In the bathroom with our toothbrushes,” Monroe said, reaching for the lube on the end table.
They eventually ended up downstairs, only about an hour later than Monroe would’ve liked, but Nick didn’t really care if they didn’t have dinner until midnight. He’d convinced Monroe to spend the day in their pajamas, promising that no one would be scandalized if for some reason someone felt the need to visit.
The doorbell rang for what Nick thought must’ve been the seventh or eighth time so far that day, and Nick dropped his bag of potato chips on the coffee table. “I’ll get it,” he called to Monroe, who was elbow-deep in a bowl of mashed potatoes.
He opened the door to find an older couple, the man in a worn t-shirt and the woman in what looked like a fur coat, a covered dish in her hands. Nick didn’t recognize them but figured they were another couple in the neighborhood.
“I’m sorry, I thought we had the right address,” the woman said, leaning back to look at the number on the house again. “We’re looking for Monroe.”
“Then you’re in the right place,” Nick said, smiling. He stepped back. “Please, come in.” He took the woman’s jacket, hanging it on the hook beside the door and called, “Monroe, we have guests.”
“Terrific!” Monroe called, always happy to greet his neighbors. For someone who was certain he wasn’t a people person, he was certainly loved by everyone in his neighborhood. He walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Merry Christ - mom, dad? What’re you doing here?”
“Since we knew you weren’t going to come home, we decided to visit you here,” the woman said.
Nick stood back, feeling a sudden awkwardness and wondered if it had to do with Monroe and his parents or the fact that Nick was there in his pajamas, obviously comfortable enough with the place to answer the door and welcome inside people he didn’t know.
He took the moment to study Monroe’s parents a little more now that he knew who they were.
Monroe’s mother wore a Christmas sweater, one much more toned down than the ones worn by her son. Her dark hair had streaks of grey and was cut short, curling just underneath her pierced ears. She seemed refined, stylish.
His father, on the other hand, must run warmer than his son even, with no jacket over his t-shirt publicizing the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. His threadbare jeans had obviously been worn quite a bit, as did the scuffed tan working boots. He sported what looked like a buzz cut a few weeks past needing a trim. His tan, weather-beaten face spoke of a life mostly spent outdoors.
After a moment’s hesitation, Monroe stepped forward, small smile on his face, as he shook his father’s hand and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Oh! This is Nick. Nick, these are my parents, Marguerite and Martin.”
Nick smiled and shook the couple’s hands, deciding to follow Monroe’s lead. If Monroe felt more comfortable introducing Nick as his friend, then Nick wasn’t going to contradict him.
“Have a seat,” Monroe pulled the blanket off the sofa and tossed it on the chair.
“I like the decorations,” his mother said, sitting down. “A little light, but I’m sure you’ve been busy with school.”
Behind her, Monroe rolled his eyes, and Nick smiled.
“The pajamas are a nice touch, if a little casual for visitors.”
“We thought we were going to be alone today,” Monroe said, his eyes seeking Nick.
Nick smiled faintly, seeing resignation. They’d planned on another day of cuddling on the sofa, eating the delicious dinner Monroe had made, and exchanging presents. But all day they’d been inundated with visitors, and by his expression, Monroe had realized that their ‘alone time’ wasn’t meant to be.
As disappointed as he was, Nick found himself looking forward to spending time with Monroe’s parents. He realized that while Monroe talked about school and work, he never mentioned his life before college, nothing about his family life or about growing up. So far, the only information Nick had gotten had been from Hap, and even the normally verbose man was surprisingly reticent about sharing details. So Nick decided to see this intrusion as a great opportunity to learn about Monroe’s childhood - and maybe have some stories he could tease his lover about later.
“We can always go change,” Nick offered.
“No need to go through all that trouble for us,” Monroe’s dad said gruffly. He nudged at his wife and nodded at the dish in her hands.
“Oh! I didn’t know if you’d already made some, but it’s rude to visit empty handed.” She held the dish up to Monroe.
A large grin spread across his face as he reached out and took the bowl. “You didn’t.”
She smiled back. “I did.”
“Awesome!”
Nick suddenly saw his boyfriend as he probably was as a child, eyes sparkling, large, excited grin on his face.
Monroe turned to Nick. “You haven’t had apple dumplings until you have had mom’s.”
“So you hadn’t already made them, then?” She asked.
“I don’t make them. What’s the point of trying when they’d never be as good as yours?” Monroe was so busy unwrapping the bowl that he missed the proud smile his mom sent his way.
Nick almost got a little misty himself.
Monroe lifted the bowl to his nose and took a deep sniff. “Heaven in a bowl.”
His mother laughed and looked over at Nick. “That’s what he’s called my dumplings since he was a little boy.”
“I can’t wait to try them, then,” Nick said.
“Maybe we can lay out all of the food on the on the counter in the kitchen, and we can eat in here. This is the biggest table we have in the house,” Monroe explained, looking down at the coffee table.
“We know, Honey,” Monroe’s mom said, “Hap told us.”
Monroe blinked. “When did you talk to Hap?”
“Around Thanksgiving. He was with some friends on a road trip.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t say anything!”
Nick was surprised as well. Hap wasn’t known for keeping secrets.
Monroe’s father chuckled. “He’d been drinking a bit.”
“Such a surprise,” Monroe’s mother said dryly.
“He probably doesn’t even remember the conversation,” his father finished.
“Anyway, we decided to bring you a table as our Christmas present.”
Monroe stared at his parents in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that. You made dumplings and drove all the way here. That was more that I could’ve expected.”
“Well, we lugged the damn thing this far; we’re not taking it back,” Monroe’s father said gruffly.
“I’ll help you bring it in,” Nick said, heading to the door for his shoes and coat.
“Monroe can stay here and show me what he’s made for the meal,” his mother said, taking her son’s arm.
Monroe sent a dramatic “help me!” look toward Nick, who smothered a laugh as he pulled on his coat and followed the older man outside.
The table was covered by a tarp in the back of a beaten-down pickup truck. They took their time loosening the bungee cords and tie-down straps, and eventually Monroe’s father pulled off the tarp and started folding it haphazardly.
The table itself was an example of pure craftsmanship. Made from a dark wood, the circular top featured carved images. Nick was only able to trace what looked like a wolf before Monroe’s father started directing him in the steps needed to take to get the table off the truck and into the house safely.
Nick offered to stand on the ground while Monroe’s father eased it off the bed of the truck.
“Hell, son, call me Martin, and I’ll take you up on that. Just be careful; this table’s heavier than it looks.”
“I’m stronger than I look too,” Nick bragged, hoping he was right and that he didn’t do irreparable damage to the table.
Nick had just eased the table to the ground when Nick’s father - Martin - asked, “So how long have you been with my son?”
Thankful that the man had waited until the table was safe, Nick felt his heart pound even harder. He risked a look over to the other man, whose attention seemed focused on folding the blankets he’d wrapped around the table legs.
“A few months,” Nick said quietly.
“He seems happy, happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” Martin nodded for Nick to pick up his side of the table, and as one they began walking toward the back of the house.
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
“This is quite the spread,” Monroe’s mother said after perusing the food he’d made while he cleared Hap’s makeshift table made with empty kegs for legs and a large piece of wood for a tabletop to make room for a real table. “It seems like a lot for just the two of you.”
“Hap’s going to come back with his two friends, and he has a girlfriend. Plus, Nick’s roommates spend a lot of time here, and Rosalee hangs out here a lot too.”
“It sounds like you’ve created your own pack,” she said, looking through the cabinets and pulling out four plates.
“They’re not a pack,” Monroe said, harsher than he’d intended. He calmed himself and said a little softer, “you know how I feel about that.”
“Honey, packs are simply another way of describing a family you’ve created for yourself.”
“Packs are way more than that,” Monroe said, taking out the utensils.
“At their core, they’re about a bond. Everything else is just…” she looked around, “decoration. You choose what bows to put on it, what traditions to lay at its feet.” She put the plates down on top of the microwave, took the utensils from Monroe and put them on top of the plates, before taking his hands and looking into his eyes. “The trappings just help solidify the bond. They can be as simple as spending a holiday together or as rowdy as running through the forest - ”
“ - killing and tearing apart at everything in our path?” Monroe asked bitterly, turning his face away.
“You still judge? After three years?”
“I don’t just judge them! I judge me! I can’t undo the things that I’ve done, the hurt that I’ve caused. That life isn’t for me, and that’s why I can’t go back.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Monroe sighed, looking for the right words. In all of his conversations with his mother, he’d never found them before, but maybe this time… “How do you feel when you kill someone?”
She looked at him, confused. “You make it sound like we just walk around killing people like… like serial killers!”
“I felt -feel - guilt for what I did. Every time I let the wolf out, I lose control and become something that makes me feel ashamed.”
“You should never be ashamed of who you are!”
“And right now, the me that I am right now, isn’t ashamed. I feel like a decent person. I help people; I make things grow. I create; I don’t destroy.” He could tell by her face that she still didn’t understand.
After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Are you happy?”
“I am,” he said simply.
She pulled him down for a hug. “I don’t understand you, but I still love you.”
“I love you for trying,” he said, choking back tears.
“Now let’s talk about that boy of yours.”
Monroe froze, mid-hug, thoughts about frying pans and fire running through his mind.
His mother pulled away with a little laugh. “We’ve known you liked boys since you were a pup. But you also liked girls, so we hoped that you’d eventually settle with one, give us some grandchildren.” She shook her head. “If this one takes, I guess we’re going to have to pin our hopes on your brothers and sisters.”
Monroe covered his burning face with his hands. “Mom!” All of a sudden, he was sixteen again, forced to listen to her talk about Angelina.
“He’s a cute one,” she said, clearly enjoying Monroe’s discomfort. “Although,” she leaned closer, “a human? Their bodies are so fragile.”
Monroe wanted to tell her that he knew for certain that Nick wasn’t as fragile as she might think, but he didn’t want to invite her into that part of his life. Once he opened that door, he knew she’d walk right through it and never look back.
He was saved having to choose a response by the door flying open, Nick walking backwards with a familiar table. “That looks like - ”
“It’s not ours,” his mother assured him, making him exhale with relief. “Your father made one similar, and this one’s yours.”
He stepped forward and helped the final few feet, deliberately not looking too hard at the top. There’d be time enough for that later, when he was alone.
Dinner that afternoon turned out to be the most fun he could ever remember with his parents. For the first time, they treated him as an adult, even going so far as to treat Nick with almost as much warmth as they did Hap, whom they’d known since he was a pup. It was obvious from his looks to Monroe’s mother that his father knew Nick was more than just a friend as well, but they rolled with it.
Despite their protests, his parents finally agreed to spend the night at the house, using Monroe’s room since he didn’t want to have to subject them to Hap’s room. Unfortunately, that meant that he and Nick were either going to have to sack out in the living room on the sofas - which were comfortable enough for studying or cuddling during a movie but were way too narrow for sleeping through the night - or braving Hap’s room themselves.
“How bad can it be?” Nick asked as they washed the dishes while Monroe’s parents unpacked and settled into Monroe’s room.
Monroe shuddered. “I still have nightmares.” Nick laughed, and Monroe said, “Why don’t we do this? We stay in there if all we have to do is change the sheets, but if it requires disinfectant, bleach, or any kind of bug repellant, we stay in the living room.”
Monroe noted smugly that the possibility of bugs shut Nick up pretty quickly.
Fortunately, Hap’s room was cleaner than Monroe had ever seen it, Monroe attributing the difference to Hap’s girlfriend. Sure, they spent most of their time at Lenore’s place than Hap’s, but Lenore wasn’t the type to appreciate finding a moldy piece of pizza underneath a bed. Nick opened the window to let out the scent of stale weed while Monroe changed the sheets and added a couple of blankets, and they were ready to bunk down.
They came downstairs and found Monroe’s parents dressed in sweats, tying up their sneakers.
“They like to drive around a bit before bed, calms them down in an unfamiliar place,” Monroe said. It was way easier than having to explain to Nick that his Blutbad family had a tradition of woging and roaming free on Christmas Eve and needed to find a relatively safe place to do it.
“Alone at last,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around Monroe. He did a trick with his leg, and Monroe fell onto the sofa, a grinning Nick lying on top of him. “How much time do you think we have?”
“They’re night owls, so I gave them a key,” Monroe said, sliding his fingers through Nick’s hair. “We’ll probably go to bed before they do.” Nick smiled, slow and easy, and Monroe’s heart surged. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’ll definitely be going to be in bed before they do.”
“I like the way you think,” Nick said, then sighed and laid his head over Monroe’s heart.
Monroe loved it when he did that, all of his protective instincts screaming that this was good, this was right. He wrapped his arms around Nick tightly and just held on.
“I like your parents,” Nick mumbled, his mouth pressed against Monroe’s chest.
Monroe felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. His parents seemed to finally accept that he wasn’t going to be the predator they’d expected, which was something he’d given up ever hoping would happen. On top of that, they not only met Nick but seemed to like him and accept him in Monroe’s life. Monroe wasn’t sure if they realized that Nick was his mate, but he’d only come to that realization a few weeks before himself. He was sure things would probably go to hell in a couple of days, but for right now, he was more content than he could remember being in a long time.
The doorbell rang, and Monroe groaned.
“I thought you said you gave them a key,” Nick said.
“I did. And it’s way too early for them to come back,” Monroe said, smelling an unfamiliar scent on the other side of the door. It wasn’t one of his neighbors or his parents.
“Who could be visiting at nine o’clock on Christmas night?” Nick asked.
Monroe allowed his protectiveness to rise to the forefront as he eased from underneath Nick. “Wait here.”
For some reason, his instinct was telling him that whatever was behind that door was trouble; the only question was, was it human trouble or Wesen? It didn’t smell like any Wesen he recognized, but the smell wasn’t quite human either. He looked through the spyhole but could only see a dark shape blocking the lights he‘d used to decorate the house and the yard. Bracing himself, he opened the door.
And all hell broke loose.
Chapter 7
Monroe wasn’t sure how it happened, but eventually, everyone started spending their time at his and Hap’s house. At first he was kind of self conscious at the rundown look of their neighborhood, their house, their furniture, their appliances…
But no one seemed to notice.
Hank and Wu eventually brought in another sofa that they’d gotten from somewhere for free, and Juliette contributed some sort of chair made with some kind of gel inside. Monroe tried it once when he was alone and had to crawl out of it using some very ungentlemanly positions. But Juliette and Rosalee liked it, and Monroe found Hap fast asleep on it at various times, limbs hanging off at almost impossible angles. A used microwave appeared in the kitchen one day, and while Monroe didn’t plan on using it, he noticed the excited chatter when the others found it.
Nick spent most weekends with Monroe, staying at his apartment closer to the campus for convenience during the weekdays.
And Hap started dating Lenore, the study group girl, who seemed to adore the ground he stumbled upon. She was smarter than he was but just as good hearted. And even better, she was a Blutbad determined to walk a path similar to Monroe and Hap.
Monroe found himself making meals for ten, eight people and an additional two servings for Hap and Wu, whose metabolisms had to be unnaturally fast.
Juliette met Renard, a senior majoring in International Relations at JT and Global Studies at GN, something none of them had ever heard of happening. Wu maintained that Renard was some sort of freak of nature, which was only reinforced by his mysterious aura and refined stature the one time they’d met him. Juliette started spending more time with him and less with them, which ended up being okay with everyone once Hank finally wore Rosalee down and she agreed to date him.
One evening the others sat in the living room studying while Nick’s iPod played with the speakers he’d brought over. Most of Monroe’s class work now tended to be hands-on, so he used his free time to make a salad to go with the chili that was slowly cooking on the stove while he tried not to pout at the fact that he’d been relegated to playing Christmas music only two hours a day while the others were around.
He felt arms wrap around him and leaned back into Nick’s chest.
“I’ll surprise you one day,” Nick vowed.
Monroe smiled. He couldn’t explain to Nick that he’d smelled his boyfriend before Nick even walked into the house, and he could effortlessly sense which room Nick was occupying. And of course there was the fact that the hairs on his arms rose whenever Nick drew close. The first two things were a result of who he was. The last was a result of who Nick was to him. Which turned out to be Everything.
“So I was thinking about Christmas,” Nick said, his voice muffled by one of Monroe’s Christmas sweaters.
“Just let me know what time you need to be at the airport,” Monroe said, forcing back the part inside him that raged at his mate being so far from him for almost two weeks. The Thanksgiving long weekend had been difficult, but that’d been before Monroe had taken Nick into his bed, before their scents had merged. This time was going to be hell.
And they hadn’t even talked about their plans for Winter Term.
“Actually, Aunt Marie is going to be working out of the country, so I’m going to be staying in town. I was thinking that if - ooph!”
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 expected Monroe to be happy that he was staying. What he hadn’t expected was to be enveloped and shoved against the door to the backyard. He wasn’t prepared when Monroe kissed him, but suddenly nothing mattered but getting closer to this man.
He wasn’t sure what pulled them out of their fog, but he looked up to find the others standing just inside the kitchen, staring at them.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Wu asked, “So, is dinner ready?”
Nick hadn’t quite spoken the truth about his aunt, but she’d seemed relieved when he’d called her with his plans to stay at school for the holiday.
“Are your friends staying in town?”
“Just one.” The most important one. “I’ll be hanging out at his house.”
“I’ll send you your Christmas present.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he’d told her. “We can exchange gifts the next time we see each other.”
“Okay. Be good. Be safe.”
“You too.”
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
The days leading up to Christmas were the best Monroe ever remembered. Wu had left for his family’s house the moment his finals were over, and Hap and his friends took off soon after that. Juliette flew off to somewhere in Europe with Renard (Nick had demanded an itinerary and contact information just in case), and Nick drove Hank to the airport while Monroe took Rosalee and Lenore to the bus station. Monroe drove back to the house to pick up Nick, and they immediately went grocery shopping. Monroe made sure they got the best organic turkey and other foods he couldn’t grow himself while Nick seemed to spend his time trying to sneak bags of potato chips and cookies into the cart. Monroe complained, but most of it remained in the cart as they checked out.
Once they got home, they didn’t feel the need to leave. Monroe cooked, snuggling under the blanket with Nick in the living room, watching old movies when he didn’t need to be in the kitchen.
Nick decided that clothes weren’t necessary since it was only them, but Monroe vetoed that idea quickly, which turned out to be a good idea. Nick had met a few people in the neighborhood, but all of them seemed to stop by for short visits, most of them with plants or small gifts for Monroe, who never failed to send them back home with containers of food and snacks he’d made. Nick got the idea that this was something they did often, and he liked the idea of a community rallying around Monroe. It made him seem much less alone.
Christmas morning, Nick felt Monroe start to slide out of bed and tightened his arm around Monroe’s waist. “Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled.
Monroe groaned, dropping a kiss on Nick’s head. “I have to put the turkey in the oven.”
“I’m the only one eating the turkey. We can have peanut butter and jelly for all I care.”
“You say that now, but you’ll complain if we sit down to a huge meal of peanut butter and jelly.” Monroe said, but he curled back around Nick.
“How about I make it worth your while?” Nick curled a leg over Monroe’s hip and slid closer.
Monroe groaned, pushing until he lay on top of Nick. “The turkey can wait a few minutes.”
“Just a few minutes? I’m insulted. Where’s the romance?”
“In the bathroom with our toothbrushes,” Monroe said, reaching for the lube on the end table.
They eventually ended up downstairs, only about an hour later than Monroe would’ve liked, but Nick didn’t really care if they didn’t have dinner until midnight. He’d convinced Monroe to spend the day in their pajamas, promising that no one would be scandalized if for some reason someone felt the need to visit.
The doorbell rang for what Nick thought must’ve been the seventh or eighth time so far that day, and Nick dropped his bag of potato chips on the coffee table. “I’ll get it,” he called to Monroe, who was elbow-deep in a bowl of mashed potatoes.
He opened the door to find an older couple, the man in a worn t-shirt and the woman in what looked like a fur coat, a covered dish in her hands. Nick didn’t recognize them but figured they were another couple in the neighborhood.
“I’m sorry, I thought we had the right address,” the woman said, leaning back to look at the number on the house again. “We’re looking for Monroe.”
“Then you’re in the right place,” Nick said, smiling. He stepped back. “Please, come in.” He took the woman’s jacket, hanging it on the hook beside the door and called, “Monroe, we have guests.”
“Terrific!” Monroe called, always happy to greet his neighbors. For someone who was certain he wasn’t a people person, he was certainly loved by everyone in his neighborhood. He walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Merry Christ - mom, dad? What’re you doing here?”
“Since we knew you weren’t going to come home, we decided to visit you here,” the woman said.
Nick stood back, feeling a sudden awkwardness and wondered if it had to do with Monroe and his parents or the fact that Nick was there in his pajamas, obviously comfortable enough with the place to answer the door and welcome inside people he didn’t know.
He took the moment to study Monroe’s parents a little more now that he knew who they were.
Monroe’s mother wore a Christmas sweater, one much more toned down than the ones worn by her son. Her dark hair had streaks of grey and was cut short, curling just underneath her pierced ears. She seemed refined, stylish.
His father, on the other hand, must run warmer than his son even, with no jacket over his t-shirt publicizing the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. His threadbare jeans had obviously been worn quite a bit, as did the scuffed tan working boots. He sported what looked like a buzz cut a few weeks past needing a trim. His tan, weather-beaten face spoke of a life mostly spent outdoors.
After a moment’s hesitation, Monroe stepped forward, small smile on his face, as he shook his father’s hand and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Oh! This is Nick. Nick, these are my parents, Marguerite and Martin.”
Nick smiled and shook the couple’s hands, deciding to follow Monroe’s lead. If Monroe felt more comfortable introducing Nick as his friend, then Nick wasn’t going to contradict him.
“Have a seat,” Monroe pulled the blanket off the sofa and tossed it on the chair.
“I like the decorations,” his mother said, sitting down. “A little light, but I’m sure you’ve been busy with school.”
Behind her, Monroe rolled his eyes, and Nick smiled.
“The pajamas are a nice touch, if a little casual for visitors.”
“We thought we were going to be alone today,” Monroe said, his eyes seeking Nick.
Nick smiled faintly, seeing resignation. They’d planned on another day of cuddling on the sofa, eating the delicious dinner Monroe had made, and exchanging presents. But all day they’d been inundated with visitors, and by his expression, Monroe had realized that their ‘alone time’ wasn’t meant to be.
As disappointed as he was, Nick found himself looking forward to spending time with Monroe’s parents. He realized that while Monroe talked about school and work, he never mentioned his life before college, nothing about his family life or about growing up. So far, the only information Nick had gotten had been from Hap, and even the normally verbose man was surprisingly reticent about sharing details. So Nick decided to see this intrusion as a great opportunity to learn about Monroe’s childhood - and maybe have some stories he could tease his lover about later.
“We can always go change,” Nick offered.
“No need to go through all that trouble for us,” Monroe’s dad said gruffly. He nudged at his wife and nodded at the dish in her hands.
“Oh! I didn’t know if you’d already made some, but it’s rude to visit empty handed.” She held the dish up to Monroe.
A large grin spread across his face as he reached out and took the bowl. “You didn’t.”
She smiled back. “I did.”
“Awesome!”
Nick suddenly saw his boyfriend as he probably was as a child, eyes sparkling, large, excited grin on his face.
Monroe turned to Nick. “You haven’t had apple dumplings until you have had mom’s.”
“So you hadn’t already made them, then?” She asked.
“I don’t make them. What’s the point of trying when they’d never be as good as yours?” Monroe was so busy unwrapping the bowl that he missed the proud smile his mom sent his way.
Nick almost got a little misty himself.
Monroe lifted the bowl to his nose and took a deep sniff. “Heaven in a bowl.”
His mother laughed and looked over at Nick. “That’s what he’s called my dumplings since he was a little boy.”
“I can’t wait to try them, then,” Nick said.
“Maybe we can lay out all of the food on the on the counter in the kitchen, and we can eat in here. This is the biggest table we have in the house,” Monroe explained, looking down at the coffee table.
“We know, Honey,” Monroe’s mom said, “Hap told us.”
Monroe blinked. “When did you talk to Hap?”
“Around Thanksgiving. He was with some friends on a road trip.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t say anything!”
Nick was surprised as well. Hap wasn’t known for keeping secrets.
Monroe’s father chuckled. “He’d been drinking a bit.”
“Such a surprise,” Monroe’s mother said dryly.
“He probably doesn’t even remember the conversation,” his father finished.
“Anyway, we decided to bring you a table as our Christmas present.”
Monroe stared at his parents in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that. You made dumplings and drove all the way here. That was more that I could’ve expected.”
“Well, we lugged the damn thing this far; we’re not taking it back,” Monroe’s father said gruffly.
“I’ll help you bring it in,” Nick said, heading to the door for his shoes and coat.
“Monroe can stay here and show me what he’s made for the meal,” his mother said, taking her son’s arm.
Monroe sent a dramatic “help me!” look toward Nick, who smothered a laugh as he pulled on his coat and followed the older man outside.
The table was covered by a tarp in the back of a beaten-down pickup truck. They took their time loosening the bungee cords and tie-down straps, and eventually Monroe’s father pulled off the tarp and started folding it haphazardly.
The table itself was an example of pure craftsmanship. Made from a dark wood, the circular top featured carved images. Nick was only able to trace what looked like a wolf before Monroe’s father started directing him in the steps needed to take to get the table off the truck and into the house safely.
Nick offered to stand on the ground while Monroe’s father eased it off the bed of the truck.
“Hell, son, call me Martin, and I’ll take you up on that. Just be careful; this table’s heavier than it looks.”
“I’m stronger than I look too,” Nick bragged, hoping he was right and that he didn’t do irreparable damage to the table.
Nick had just eased the table to the ground when Nick’s father - Martin - asked, “So how long have you been with my son?”
Thankful that the man had waited until the table was safe, Nick felt his heart pound even harder. He risked a look over to the other man, whose attention seemed focused on folding the blankets he’d wrapped around the table legs.
“A few months,” Nick said quietly.
“He seems happy, happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” Martin nodded for Nick to pick up his side of the table, and as one they began walking toward the back of the house.
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
“This is quite the spread,” Monroe’s mother said after perusing the food he’d made while he cleared Hap’s makeshift table made with empty kegs for legs and a large piece of wood for a tabletop to make room for a real table. “It seems like a lot for just the two of you.”
“Hap’s going to come back with his two friends, and he has a girlfriend. Plus, Nick’s roommates spend a lot of time here, and Rosalee hangs out here a lot too.”
“It sounds like you’ve created your own pack,” she said, looking through the cabinets and pulling out four plates.
“They’re not a pack,” Monroe said, harsher than he’d intended. He calmed himself and said a little softer, “you know how I feel about that.”
“Honey, packs are simply another way of describing a family you’ve created for yourself.”
“Packs are way more than that,” Monroe said, taking out the utensils.
“At their core, they’re about a bond. Everything else is just…” she looked around, “decoration. You choose what bows to put on it, what traditions to lay at its feet.” She put the plates down on top of the microwave, took the utensils from Monroe and put them on top of the plates, before taking his hands and looking into his eyes. “The trappings just help solidify the bond. They can be as simple as spending a holiday together or as rowdy as running through the forest - ”
“ - killing and tearing apart at everything in our path?” Monroe asked bitterly, turning his face away.
“You still judge? After three years?”
“I don’t just judge them! I judge me! I can’t undo the things that I’ve done, the hurt that I’ve caused. That life isn’t for me, and that’s why I can’t go back.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Monroe sighed, looking for the right words. In all of his conversations with his mother, he’d never found them before, but maybe this time… “How do you feel when you kill someone?”
She looked at him, confused. “You make it sound like we just walk around killing people like… like serial killers!”
“I felt -feel - guilt for what I did. Every time I let the wolf out, I lose control and become something that makes me feel ashamed.”
“You should never be ashamed of who you are!”
“And right now, the me that I am right now, isn’t ashamed. I feel like a decent person. I help people; I make things grow. I create; I don’t destroy.” He could tell by her face that she still didn’t understand.
After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Are you happy?”
“I am,” he said simply.
She pulled him down for a hug. “I don’t understand you, but I still love you.”
“I love you for trying,” he said, choking back tears.
“Now let’s talk about that boy of yours.”
Monroe froze, mid-hug, thoughts about frying pans and fire running through his mind.
His mother pulled away with a little laugh. “We’ve known you liked boys since you were a pup. But you also liked girls, so we hoped that you’d eventually settle with one, give us some grandchildren.” She shook her head. “If this one takes, I guess we’re going to have to pin our hopes on your brothers and sisters.”
Monroe covered his burning face with his hands. “Mom!” All of a sudden, he was sixteen again, forced to listen to her talk about Angelina.
“He’s a cute one,” she said, clearly enjoying Monroe’s discomfort. “Although,” she leaned closer, “a human? Their bodies are so fragile.”
Monroe wanted to tell her that he knew for certain that Nick wasn’t as fragile as she might think, but he didn’t want to invite her into that part of his life. Once he opened that door, he knew she’d walk right through it and never look back.
He was saved having to choose a response by the door flying open, Nick walking backwards with a familiar table. “That looks like - ”
“It’s not ours,” his mother assured him, making him exhale with relief. “Your father made one similar, and this one’s yours.”
He stepped forward and helped the final few feet, deliberately not looking too hard at the top. There’d be time enough for that later, when he was alone.
Dinner that afternoon turned out to be the most fun he could ever remember with his parents. For the first time, they treated him as an adult, even going so far as to treat Nick with almost as much warmth as they did Hap, whom they’d known since he was a pup. It was obvious from his looks to Monroe’s mother that his father knew Nick was more than just a friend as well, but they rolled with it.
Despite their protests, his parents finally agreed to spend the night at the house, using Monroe’s room since he didn’t want to have to subject them to Hap’s room. Unfortunately, that meant that he and Nick were either going to have to sack out in the living room on the sofas - which were comfortable enough for studying or cuddling during a movie but were way too narrow for sleeping through the night - or braving Hap’s room themselves.
“How bad can it be?” Nick asked as they washed the dishes while Monroe’s parents unpacked and settled into Monroe’s room.
Monroe shuddered. “I still have nightmares.” Nick laughed, and Monroe said, “Why don’t we do this? We stay in there if all we have to do is change the sheets, but if it requires disinfectant, bleach, or any kind of bug repellant, we stay in the living room.”
Monroe noted smugly that the possibility of bugs shut Nick up pretty quickly.
Fortunately, Hap’s room was cleaner than Monroe had ever seen it, Monroe attributing the difference to Hap’s girlfriend. Sure, they spent most of their time at Lenore’s place than Hap’s, but Lenore wasn’t the type to appreciate finding a moldy piece of pizza underneath a bed. Nick opened the window to let out the scent of stale weed while Monroe changed the sheets and added a couple of blankets, and they were ready to bunk down.
They came downstairs and found Monroe’s parents dressed in sweats, tying up their sneakers.
“They like to drive around a bit before bed, calms them down in an unfamiliar place,” Monroe said. It was way easier than having to explain to Nick that his Blutbad family had a tradition of woging and roaming free on Christmas Eve and needed to find a relatively safe place to do it.
“Alone at last,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around Monroe. He did a trick with his leg, and Monroe fell onto the sofa, a grinning Nick lying on top of him. “How much time do you think we have?”
“They’re night owls, so I gave them a key,” Monroe said, sliding his fingers through Nick’s hair. “We’ll probably go to bed before they do.” Nick smiled, slow and easy, and Monroe’s heart surged. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’ll definitely be going to be in bed before they do.”
“I like the way you think,” Nick said, then sighed and laid his head over Monroe’s heart.
Monroe loved it when he did that, all of his protective instincts screaming that this was good, this was right. He wrapped his arms around Nick tightly and just held on.
“I like your parents,” Nick mumbled, his mouth pressed against Monroe’s chest.
Monroe felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. His parents seemed to finally accept that he wasn’t going to be the predator they’d expected, which was something he’d given up ever hoping would happen. On top of that, they not only met Nick but seemed to like him and accept him in Monroe’s life. Monroe wasn’t sure if they realized that Nick was his mate, but he’d only come to that realization a few weeks before himself. He was sure things would probably go to hell in a couple of days, but for right now, he was more content than he could remember being in a long time.
The doorbell rang, and Monroe groaned.
“I thought you said you gave them a key,” Nick said.
“I did. And it’s way too early for them to come back,” Monroe said, smelling an unfamiliar scent on the other side of the door. It wasn’t one of his neighbors or his parents.
“Who could be visiting at nine o’clock on Christmas night?” Nick asked.
Monroe allowed his protectiveness to rise to the forefront as he eased from underneath Nick. “Wait here.”
For some reason, his instinct was telling him that whatever was behind that door was trouble; the only question was, was it human trouble or Wesen? It didn’t smell like any Wesen he recognized, but the smell wasn’t quite human either. He looked through the spyhole but could only see a dark shape blocking the lights he‘d used to decorate the house and the yard. Bracing himself, he opened the door.
And all hell broke loose.