31 - Morning
Harry groaned and dragged himself into a seating position. With momentous effort he placed his feet on the ground, wincing as it caused a twinge from one of his bruises, but with pure force of will he managed to get himself upright.
The hardest part was over.
Bleary-eyed, he stumbled to the shower and let the warm water soothe his tired, aching body.
After his shower he at least felt more human, but not in any way less disgruntled. He hadn't been able to get nearly enough sleep.
Next time Monroe could be the one staking out the murderer's house in Nick's car, no matter how 'unlikely' it was that the Lausenschlange would return there compared to their other leads.
Or, you know, the police, who actually got paid for this bloody stuff.
With an annoyed huff he admitted defeat and opened the curtains, scowling at the pre-dawn barely-there light.
When Nick inevitably stopped by again for coffee, he would give the generally bright-eyed, insufferably cheerful Grimm a well-deserved glare because it wasn't right to keep a baker from having a good night's rest.
It really wasn't fair that the Detective could combine his day job with their extra-curriculum activities, and in some cases even get to take sick days when he got injured from his own half-baked plans.
Harry, on the other hand, still had to get up far too early to get everything ready before opening up.
He really hoped that the Captain wouldn't take today to show up again, because what he really needed was a nice, calm day for a change and not another verbal chess-match.
The wizard snorted, who he was kidding, he'd decided to own a bakery.
With practised hands he went through the usual morning preparations. Compared to some of his more demanding customers, the Captain and even the dratted Lausenschlange, were far more reasonable and easy to handle.
It was going to be a long day.
Around mid-morning, it was Hank, not Nick, who showed up to get them their customary coffee.
Harry glared at the poor man anyway.
The unruffled detective seemed to take it in stride, "Bad day?" Hank asked easily, as if he got glared at by bakers every other day.
Harry's motions were easy and careful as he prepared the drinks, but his voice was a little petulant; "I'm not a cop. Next time you can do the stakeout, while I'll sleep like a regular person who needs to get up early the next morning."
The detective chuckled, "Welcome to a life of crime-fighting, my friend. There is no rest for the wicked. That means we don't get to rest either."
The wizard frowned as he handed over the coffee, "At least you get paid for this nonsense."
Hank shook his head, "For the Grimm stuff… man, not nearly enough."
At that, the wizard couldn't help but smile – Hank dealt with a lot of weirdness and always handled it well. The man had once confided to him, when it was just the two of them, how freaked out he'd been when he hadn't know it was all real.
But then, on one of the cops' more personal cases, Nick had told him that he wasn't going crazy – after Carly, his goddaughter who needed him – turned out to be one of the Wesen.
Well, Hank had to either accept it or let them both down. And he wasn't one to turn his back on his partner. The man had stuck with the Grimm, getting dragged further and further into this strange life perhaps even more willingly than Harry himself.
On a whim, Harry added one of his freshly-baked chocolate muffins. "Here you go then, just for you – for putting up with that ridiculous partner of yours."
"Thanks, Harry," Hank grinned, "I'll make sure to eat it right in front of him, and rub it in his face that you like me better."
The wizard laughed, "You go do that, Hank. Have a good day!"
The detective left with a small wave of his muffin-holding hand.
Well, alright, perhaps it was worth it – lack of sleep and all. But he couldn't admit that to Nick or he'd never get any peace.
Word Count: 700