Warnings: M/M sex, anal, oral, bottomNick, Grimm-related violence, gore. Dub/con maybe? (I don't know about dub/con since it is a dream sequence, but I'll add it anyway)
Summary: Juliette leaves Nick and he falls into his work to forget. As a Grimm related case surfaces Nick seeks Monroe's help, and the two make a startling discovery along the way.
Nick Burkhart stood looking at the taller man. Tilting his head back he wet his lips then threw Monroe the biggest smile he could muster. The Blutbad did not look impressed. But he did watch the pink tip of the younger man's tongue as it made its way slowly across the younger man's full lips. Nick narrowed his eyes seeing it for the victory it was, "Thanks a bunch, Monroe."
Grizzling under his breath the taller man stood back bowing slightly at the waist, "Oh please come in Detective Burkhart. I do so love these constant intrusions in my life."
"Oh come on!" Nick chirped, and for a fleeting minute the blutbad conjured the image of a baby bird hopping joyfully around his feet. Uttering a long drawn out sigh Monroe stepped through the foyer of his house and into the living room proper. Nick paused only long enough to flip through the manila folder clutched in his hand, "At least your life isn't boring with me around."
Shooting the Grimm a pained frown Monroe huffed, "I didn't think it was boring before you were around." But he knew that was a lie, and at least Nick had the good grace not to call him on it.
"Anyway…" Nick began but he paused sniffing the air, "Hey, what're you cooking? It smells good."
"Vegan stir-fry with brown rice. Can you just get to what you came here for?" Monroe added grumpily, but the wolf inside him begged for just a few more minutes breathing in the younger man's scent. Monroe kicked it hard, and the wolf whimpered. Nick shuffled through the pages of the news clippings and a few typed sheets before handing a photograph to the blutbad. Monroe took it then shrugged. Nick frowned and Monroe looked at the grainy black and white photocopied image a little harder. Then he shrugged again.
Nick sighed and Monroe deflated like a popped balloon. Finally the Grimm turned the picture slightly as if the new angle might make it more recognizable, "Do you know him?"
"No; should I?" Monroe queried. Nick shrugged.
"Well, I thought…"
Monroe huffed again, "What? That because he's a wesen I'd automatically know him? We don't have a wesen social network, Nick."
"Hey, those eisbeiber sure got the word out about me pretty damn quick."
"Those guys are all terrible gossips." Monroe said then swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Nick seemed fascinated by the entire process, and the wolf inside Monroe wriggled in glee. "Besides most of the wesen community, and I use that term loosely, tend to avoid any social interaction with Blutbaden. I think the prospect of becoming dinner might hamper relations between us."
"Relations between us?" Nick said making a waving gesture between himself and the taller man. Monroe was irked wondering if the Grimm was playing him.
"Between Blutbaden and other wesen," the clock-maker deadpanned. Nick shot him a smarmy grin, and Monroe knew he was being played.
"Oh, it was worth a shot," Nick said tucking the clippings and the photo away. He stood shuffling from one foot to the other and Monroe folded his arms across his chest. After a few moments he relented, and felt like slapping himself silly for it.
"I would invite you to dinner, but I'm sure you have a home to go to…" he said hedging his bets.
"Not anymore." Nick said and Monroe could smell the sorrow, deep and abiding, on the younger man.
"Oh, I'm sorry, dude. That's rough."
"Yeah, after the whole Adalind and the cat thing…" Nick said waving one hand vaguely in the air. And Monroe nodded.
"And the forgetting all about you thing."
Nick squeezed his eyes closed, "Yeah and that. Juliette hasn't been picking up her phone." And Monroe could see Nick calling, phone held to his ear, waiting. "Anyway she wanted a couple of weeks to get her stuff out of the house, and then she said her dad… her divorce attorney dad, would call me about the 'disposition of the community property'. So I've been staying at a hotel downtown near the station."
And Monroe was utterly screwed. He shuffled a few steps back from the Grimm, "Uhhh, I'll just go check dinner. You wanna beer?"
David Gilford settled onto the bed of his hotel room flicking the television on. He could just make out the thin, reedy voice of his wife Gertrude as she painstakingly "put on her face" in the small en suite bathroom. Gertrude cocked her head peeking around the bathroom door, "Are you sure that you don't want to come to the tournament with me? We could use a spare fourth in case Mitzi Hamner pulls one of her phony-baloney fainting spells every time she and her partner go belly up."
David sighed, "No thanks dear. The hockey game is on in fifteen."
"Hockey, Pfft," Gertrude said rolling her eyes. David sighed again. "Oh don't sigh at me."
David smiled as she gathered up her purse and sweater, "Hey old girl, give us a kiss."
Snorting Gertrude waddled over to the bed planting a loud smack on her husband's head, "Enjoy your hockey."
"Believe me I will," he responded but she was already disappearing out the door, "Oh hey…Gertie?"
David looked around, "Ahh, damn it."
Thumbing the volume up on the TV he settled back reaching for his glasses. In ten minutes the gold rimmed spectacles were draped over his nose as David snored away. Suddenly his body twitched.
Jerking David moaned low in his throat as the faint red glow of the late afternoon sun faded into total darkness. Gasping he came away thrusting his hands up as his fingers clawed at the darkness above his face. He was in a hole, black earth spilling through his fingertips. Thrashing David began clawing at the dirt, tearing large clods of earth and tiny roots away from his nose and mouth, but more dirt began spilling into the hole surrounding him. With a shout David dug into the oft ground as it crumbled around him covering his eyes and nose. He snorted trying to sneeze mouth opening in a silent scream as more and more dirt fell onto his face.
Not quite an hour later the keys jangled in the hotel door, and Gertrude Gilford shoved the door in with her hip scowling angrily at no one in particular. She spied her husband stretched out on the bed, unmoving. "See, I told you so, David. I told you Mitzi Hamner would pull some stunt. I should have told her they had already given out the Academy Awards this year. I should have told her…David? David, honey?"
Stumbling forward Gertrude let her hand fall on his shoulder, shaking gentle. David rolled slightly and she gasped at the sight of his frozen face, mouth gaping open in sheer terror. From the rigid fixed features she could see he was dead. Uttering a sharp cry the elderly woman jerked back a tinny scream rising up in the still afternoon air.
Captain Renard stepped out of his private office into the main office space of the precinct. Two of his detectives were seated at their desks, Hank Griffin looking for all the world like he would love to climb the walls and Nick Burkhart carefully pouring over a few typed sheets of paper that must comprise the final paperwork on their last case. Some three weeks ago.
Hank sighed shuffling through the assorted detritus accumulated on his desk top. First arranging tape, stapler and paperclips then shuffling through then again. The captain smiled, both Hank and Burkhart had reputations as hands-on kind of detectives, not desk jockey types at all. Maybe that was why they we fast becoming the Portland PDs go to guys for homicides.
Renard shifted silently until Hank cast a glance over his shoulder offering the captain a smirk, "Anything I can do for you Cap? And I mean that… anything at all?"
Nick looked up frowning, "Hey, we're partners; if Hank gets to go I should go too."
"What is this kindergarten?" Renard asked with a faked grimace, "Hank is a big boy. I think he can find the way by himself."
"Yeah," Hank said leaping to his feet. "Besides somebody's gotta finish all this paperwork."
Nick frowned, "All this…it's like three pages, man. Come on, Hank."
Hank shot the younger man a blinding smile, "Sorry kid, duty calls."
Chuckling Renard handed the senior detective a thin manila folder containing a lonely sheet of paper, "Meet Sergeant Wu at the Granville-Mason Resort."
Now Hank pulled to a halt a frown marring his features, "Granville-Mason resort? Isn't there's some sort of senior citizen vacation deal going on there? What did somebody get a parking ticket on their golf cart?"
Waving over his shoulder the captain disappeared into his office, "Just go meet, Wu. There's a dead body in it for you."
Nick grinned at Hank and the other man snarled, "Probably some old geezer kicked the bucket in his sleep. Where's the glamour in that?"
"I'll trade you."
Shuffling into his jacket Hank waved a hand at his partner, "Oh hell no. See you later."
Sergeant Wu was standing beside the open door to a hotel room when Hank got to the Granville-Mason Resort building. Wu's partner Shelly Longe was talking quietly to an elderly woman sitting in a chair in the hallway, occasional she glanced up at Wu and then the detective as he made his way into down the hall.
Wu pulled Hank into the room motioning to the CSI agents meticulously combing over the duvet beside the rigor stiffened form of an elderly man. As the CSIs worked Hank moved to the bedside pulling on a pair of latex gloves, "So anything yet?"
"Well," the younger woman said frowning up at Hank, "Detective…it's kinda weird."
"Yeah," Hank said shooting her a grin, "Weird is my middle name. Hit me."
Chuckling she picked up one of the corpse's hands, "He has dirt under his fingernails. Black soil almost like potting soil, but there are no potted plants in the room. "And a look at this," she tilted the victims' head. "He has dirt in and around his mouth and nose. But he was found on the bed and his wife says he was not outside all day."
Standing the young woman brushed the knees of her trousers then shrugged, "Damned if I know what to make of it. Coroner's here. We're done, unless you want to see something else."
Shaking his head Hank stepped back as the coroner's men pulled a gurney into the room. "Nope I'm good. I'm gonna head back to the station and pick up my partner. By the time we get to the morgue the ME should have something to give us?"
The CSI agent nodded, "I'll tell the medical examiner to expect you."
Nick was standing at the doors to the medical examiner's office when Hank pulled up in their unmarked police car. The younger man had spent that last couple of hours finishing up all their tardy paperwork and was pacing briskly when his partner arrived.
Grinning the older man pulled the doors open, "Glad to see you could pull yourself away from all that tantalizing typing, Nick."
The Grimm shot him a look then motioned the other man ahead, "Yeah, next time you get to be the one mesmerized…"
"I believe I said tantalized," Hank offered. Nick rolled his eyes.
"So gimme the 411," he said and the other man shrugged. Finally Hank stepped into the antiseptic and formaldehyde smelling room that always made his skin crawl.
"I got nothin'." He said with a sigh, "Well, I got plenty of questions, just no answers."
The medical examiner was just pulling off a pair of blue latex gloves as both men walked into the room. She turned offering them both a puzzled frown, "You are absolutely sure that this body was found in a hotel room?"
Nodding Hank flipped the corner of the sheet draping Gilford's body then turned to the short, stout form. "Yep…his wife found him laid out on the bed like he was all settled in for a nap. When we got there she confirmed it with Wu. Mr. Gilford hadn't been out of the room since dinner last night. They even called room service for lunch before Mrs. Gilford went to her bridge tournament."
"That's damned odd," She walked over to the Formica topped shelves lining one wall. Pulling a silver tray out the medical examiner carried it back to the two detectives. "I pulled about 250 milliliters of this out of his mouth and throat. It's the cause of death…"
"And that would be…" Nick prompted. She smiled.
"Asphyxiation," Laying the tray gently on the corpse's chest she tugged the sheet back before using the corner to lift one eye lid, "See all this vetreal hemorrhaging? Clear sign of asphyxiation. He had about a cup of black soil in his mouth and throat, and smaller amounts in his lungs. I'd say he was buried alive."
As the two men left the coroner's office they headed for their car. It was a short drive a few blocks to the police station where they parted company. Hank headed home and Nick leaning against the side of his truck. Quickly he pulled his cell phone out of a pocket punching up a now familiar number.
The phone jangled briefly then a husky voice answered, sounding a bit annoyed. Nick grinned to himself, "Hey, Monroe…we just opened a case today and it sort of pinged something on my Grimm radar…"
Nick could almost see the blutbad's puzzled expression on the other end. He heard Monroe sucked in a deep breath, "Grimm radar? Is that like a real thing or is it a euphemism?"
Nick shook his head even though he knew the other man couldn't see him, "I don't know. It's like a feeling I get, that this case involves something that might be wesen connected. It feels off."
Sighing Monroe cast a quick glance at the clock on his mantle then carefully lay the clock he was working on down. "I'm getting wrapped up for the day and I thought that I'd get something going for dinner. Uhh, you wanna come on by, maybe eat and talk."
Smiling Nick opened his car door, dropping a slim manila folder onto the seat, "Yeah that sounds great. I really appreciate it. I….ummm."
Monroe barely contained his grin, "You own me one, I know. See you in what…half an hour."
"Traffic looks good, so yeah, half an hour."
Monroe tucked his phone away and quickly walked to the kitchen. After a few minutes he cleared the repair manuals and morning paper off the breakfast table before wiping it down. On a whim he went to the cabinet pulling out two plates and wine glasses. He laid out the table finishing it with the cloth napkins and silver flatware that had belonged to his grandmother. Things he rarely used.
When the table was set to his satisfaction the blutbad went to the fridge pulling out all the ingredients for grilled portabella burgers covered in Swiss cheese and cider roasted vegetables, before taking a bottle of Bordeaux out of the cooler.
He was half way through tossing the salad when Monroe hurried into his living room to retrieve the candlesticks from the mantle. He set them in the center of the table with the bread basket just as there was a firm knock on the door.
Nick was standing on the porch with a lopsided grin on his face, "I'm sorry that I just run to you when ever…"
Monroe waved him inside taking the younger man's jacket when he stripped it off, lying on the back of the sofa just inside the living room. Quickly the blutbad motioned Nick to follow, "I thought we'd eat in the kitchen."
Nodding Nick followed him inside only to pull up short once he caught sight of the warm golden glow of the candles, and sparkle of crystal and silver.
"Wow, it looks great. You really go all out for dinner, don't you?"
Shrugging Monroe blushed, "Sometimes you just want it to be special."
Nick paused staring up at the taller man. Monroe swallowed heavily licking his lips. Nick smiled and the blutbad took a deep breath. He could smell the thin layer of perspiration lying over the younger man's skin, the crisp salty ripeness of Nick's underlying natural body scent.
Biting his lips Monroe turned to the stove making a vague waving motion at the table, "You want to pour the wine? I'll dish this up."
When he turned around the Grimm was seated at the table looking at a file tucked under his right hand. Nick glanced up when Monroe placed the plate in front of him watching as the older man walked around to the opposite side of the table before taking a seat. Monroe watched Nick take another sip of his wine, followed the movement of his Adam's apple as it bobbed with each swallow.
Clearing his throat the blutbad realized he had been staring. Quickly he looked away taking a sip from his own glass, letting the rich red wine flow over his tongue. Still Monroe couldn't repress a shiver that ran along his spine, as he imagined he could see the tick of the younger man's pulse in his throat, imagined the rich red blood flowing through Nick's veins.
The detective picked up a forkful of vegetables them shut his eyes, "Ummm, this is great, Monroe."
"Uh, thanks," the blutbad began picking at his own food, "So what is it you wanted to see me about?"
"Oh, yeah," Nick said motioning to the folder with his fork, "It pretty much screams wesen related. I thought we go over it later."
Monroe nodded, "Sure we'll do it after dinner."
Blinking Nick flushed from the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair. Monroe swallowed the wrong way and hacked out a cough.
"I mean we'll talk about it after we eat."
After the meal had been consumed and the dishes washed the two men wandered into the living room. Nick was sprawled on the sofa as Monroe paced the length of the rug before turning quickly and pacing back again. He flipped through the few pages muttering; then dropped the file on the coffee table spreading out the flimsy sheets.
Monroe looked at the sheets of paper scattered on the table then back up at the young detective's earnest gray eyes. He felt a shiver crawl down the length of his spine. "Nick," Monroe paused scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Look, this…this is a little heavy for you right now."
"Oh and the Seigbarst wasn't? I'm a Grimm, Monroe."
"Yeah but this…it looks like this might be a Schlafen Fee."
"A what? English please, Monroe."
"You're gonna laugh. Everybody does… at first. A Schlafen Fee is a sleep fairy."
Nick sat back flabbergasted, "I'm lookin' for Tinkerbelle?"
Monroe snarled, "That's the kind of attitude that'll get you dead, Grimm. A Schlafen Fee ain't no tiny chick with iridescent wings and a green miniskirt."
The blutbad moved across the room settling heavily on the sofa by the younger man. Quickly Monroe grabbed Nick's arm tugging the Grimm around to look at him, "Schlafen Fee are dream warriors. Yeah, they exist in the real world, but they do their dirty work in the nether realm, the sleep world. And with a Schlafen Fee if you die in your dreams, you die in real life."
Betty Harper turned into the parking lot of the resort building on the main strip of downtown Portland. With a sign she glanced up at the multi-storied structure. At the far end of the row she could just make out the large blue and white shuttle from the United Airlines terminal at the airport. That meant that her sister and her bratty kids were probably already waiting in the lobby. Betty seriously wished that she had not allowed herself to be talked into this little drama. But her niece, her only sister's oldest child was getting married. They had all decided to meet that the Granville because it was so closed to the convention center and the bridal show.
Closing her eyes briefly Betty settled her forehead against the steering wheel. She could hear the swish of cars behind her and quickly turned off the engine before some passerby decided she had dropped dead in her car. The last thing she needed was to pay for a new window if someone decided to go all Good Samaritan on her.
As she turned top tug her purse out of the backseat Betty thought she saw a shadow flicker across the windshield. Gasping she jerked around in the seat. A faint play of sunlight through the dappled tree branches caused a figure to form against the brink wall in front of her car. Betty watched as the figure coalesced into the shape of a man. Laughing nervously the woman turned again reaching for her purse. She felt a yawn overcoming her.
Keeping one eye on the dark figure that now appeared to be standing beside the hood of her Chevy Betty leaned back in the driver's seat. She yawned again. Her head lolled forward as a tiny snore slipped past her lips.
The Betty found herself seated, not in her vehicle, but in a ridiculously over padded chair on the deck of a ship. She glanced around at the beautiful table setting and flicked a smile up at the waiter. Carefully the young man poured a glass of wine. As Betty reached for the crystal goblet she felt a tremor run through the table. The wine slopped over the rim of the glass splattering the white linen of the table cloth.
Another more pronounced tremor rattled the table causing the silver the clink against the china and Betty rose with a gasp.
The deck pitched wildly under her feet as the woman tried vainly to run to the door. A loud explosion thundered through the room and the deck suddenly pitched forward sending her sprawling. From across the room shouts and cried echoed. Betty struggled to her feet trying to flag down a passing crew member. The younger woman turned shooting her a solemn look, "You'd better head for the deck. They're filling the lifeboats."
Betty nodded, "Please I don't understand. Where am I?"
"Miss," the steward said taking her arm, "Please come with me."
Numbly Betty nodded casting a glance at the man's face, but some trick of the light kept his features swathed in shadow. "I…know you. You were outside my car…"
"Hurry now!" the steward said grabbing the woman by the arm. She struggled briefly.
"No! This isn't right! Let me go," Betty tried to pulled free, tried to run but the man scowled then grabbed her by the waist hauling her physically to the deck. Betty turned screaming as he flung her over. She hit the water with bone breaking force, and began sinking. Struggling weakly Betty tried to push above the slick smooth surface of the cold sea. "I was in my car. I was…"
The dark shape of the steward crashed own from the deck of the ship. With a snarl he grabbed Betty by the nape of the neck forcing her head under the water. As the cold overtook her she floated limply to the surface water streaming out of her nose and mouth.
The steward watched as Betty's corpse sank into the cold black depths. "Sorry dear. Can't allow you to wake now can I?"
Once again Sergeant Wu was standing in a parking lot waiting for the detectives to arrive. As he stood he contemplated exactly how many times he had done this very same thing. Unfortunately his musing was cut short by the appearance of the unmarked patrol car pulling up in the space beside the victim's blue Chevrolet.
Hank Griffin and Nick Burckhardt strolled around the parked vehicle glancing at the sheet covered form. Wu stepped back lifting the drape and motioning at the woman's body lying across the driver's side seat, hands still resting firmly on the steering sheet. "Wait until you get a look at this."
Nick stooped over taking the corner of the sheet from the officer, "She looks damp."
"Damnedest thing," Wu said shaking his head. "The inside of the car is bone dry. It must be at least one hundred in there, but the body was almost waterlogged."
"What!" Hank exclaimed, "You're kidding me?"
Shrugging Wu grinned at him, "I told you…damnedest thing. I've seen a lot of those lately, though."
"Tell me about it," Nick muttered.
Hank leaned over his partner's shoulder grimacing at the soggy swampy smell rising from the corpse. Clapping a hand on Nick's shoulder he grinned, "I think I'll mosey into the office and see if they have security cameras in this area of the parking lot."
Nick shot him a glare, "This end is the public lot, and I doubt it."
Grinning his partner waggled his eyebrows, "It doesn't hurt to ask."
"Fine," Nick said drily, "I'll just wait here for the coroner's wagon to show."
He didn't have that long a time to wait, and Hank appeared just as the modified hearse moved slowly out of the parking lot. The two detectives climbed into the car and followed along. Hank shrugged as Nick pulled into traffic and offered his partner an apologetic look, "I spoke to the manager of the resort. Just like you thought that end of the parking lot is public so the resort security doesn't have any surveillance cameras located there. Although I don't see how we can classify this as murder. How does someone drown a person in a parked car? In broad daylight miles from any water."
Shrugging nick frowned, "I suppose they could have drowned her somewhere else and brought the body back to the car. But the seats and carpets should have been wet. And there was no water anywhere in that car."
Hank glanced at him, "So where does that get us?"
"Nowhere, pretty damned fast."
The resounding knock on his front door caused Monroe to jump in his seat. With an angry mutter the blutbad flicked the remote turning the volume on the TV down as he rose ambling to the front door. Nick was standing on the stoop with a grin on his face and a paper bag in his hand. He held the bag aloft, "I brought veggie burgers from Dooley's. Have you had lunch yet?"
Sniffing the bag the blutbad's stomach rumbled. Quickly he cast a glance over his shoulder catching half the flickering image on the television screen before standing aside vaguely motioning the Grimm inside, "Come on before it gets started."
Nick blinked, "What gets started?" he asked casting a glance over his shoulder as if he expected all hell to break loose in the streets. Monroe grumbled under his breath scurrying into the living room, "You know where the plates are, dish it up. I'll get the sound turned up."
"Sound turned up on what?"
Now the blutbad look seriously aggrieved, "My show."
"What?" Nick said wandering out of the kitchen with two plates of food balanced precariously over his arm, and two bottles of soda. "I would have gotten beer but I'm still on duty until five."
"Shh," Monroe said accepting the plate while sliding over to make room for the younger man on the sofa. Nick sighed and the blutbad rolled his eyes, "It's my story."
"The Young and the Hopeless. It's on everyday at one o'clock." Monroe said with a grin. "I love Duke and Laurie. You should have seen their wedding last year."
"You do realize I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Jeeze, Nick what have you been doing for the last fifteen years?"
Blinking Nick grinned, "Uhh, something productive with my life?"
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes eating while Monroe hung raptly on every word coming out of the television. Nick sat in amazed silence trying to following the convoluted story issuing from the screen. Finally he gave up in favor of savoring his meal. When the blutbad had also eaten his lunch and was casually scrounging fries off of the detective's plate Nick turned.
"There was another killing at the resort today. A woman drowned in a close car, miles from any water. Can these sleep fairies attack in daylight?"
Monroe cocked an eyebrow, "Sure…why not. They can attack anytime you sleep. Usually they spend a few days feeling a person out. Going into their dreams and looking over the lay of the land. Then when they get ready to feed they go for the kill."
Nick frowned, "So this dream killing serves a purpose for them?"
Monroe nodded, "Yeah they feed on fear. And what better way to get a good meal than with what a person fears most."
"So David Gilford was afraid of being buried alive, and Betty Harper was afraid of drowning? Makes sense that they would go for that in a nightmare. People have less control over their dreams."
"Bingo," the blutbad said grimacing. "The real bitch is that once they have you targeted they can link you to someone else in your life and go for broke. Two kills at once is sort of a Schlafen Fey double header. It's what they live for."
Nick sighed, "That is a bitch. How do you fight them?"
"Don't know, didn't your Aunt have anything about that in her magic trailer?"
Shaking his head the detective shrugged, "Nada. Zilch…it seems like these guys are pretty rare."
"That and the fact that almost no one survives an attack. You have to get them in the dream world and not many people can do that."
"Once they start entering your dreams you can prepare for it though, right?"
"The problem is most people don't realize that the Schlafen Fey is in their dreams right away."
Captain Renard was waiting for the two detectives as they entered the squad room. Nick couldn't help but imagine an enormous spider waiting patiently in its web for some hapless fly to buzz right in, and he and Hank were the flies. Renard smiled at the younger of the two men almost as if he knew what Nick was thinking. Flushing Nick followed the captain into his office.
Renard waved the two men into seats then folded his hands in front o him, smiling silently. "These two recent homicide cases have come to the attention of the media. And that never bodes well for us."
Hank nodded silently and the captain continued, "So I've decided to be a little more proactive in this investigation, just so we can stave off any panic amongst the general populace."
Frowning Nick narrowed his eyes, "Proactive how?"
Renard smiled again. "Proactive, as in undercover."
Hank snorted, "Undercover…is someone at the resort a suspect because I haven't seen anything that leads to that conclusion."
Renard shrugged, "Both deaths occurred at the resort if Betty Harper's death in the parking lot still counts as being part of the resort. I have a feeling that our perp is someone attached to the resort in some way. So I'm sending one of you undercover to stay at the resort for a few days."
Hank frowned now, "I've talked to the manager several times. He knows me as a detective."
"So that leaves Nick."
"Wait…what?" the younger man said glaring at his partner. "I'll still need backup."
Renard shrugged, "How about your civilian consultant."
"Monroe?" Nick said. And the captain nodded.
"I believe that you have used him as 'unofficial' backup before. Might as well get him officially on the payroll. He seems to be pretty knowledgeable."
Swallowing hard Nick offered the captain a weak grin, "Yeah sure."
The blutbad was at the door by the time Nick had pulled his car into the driveway. Monroe stood arms folded across his chest watching the younger man's progress up the driveway to the porch. Nick shot him a grin as he pulled to a halt.
Monroe sighed, "If you spend any more time over here the neighbors are going to think we're dating."
"Funny you should say that," Nick said blushing furiously. Cocking an eyebrow, he motioned the other man inside. Narrowing his eyes Monroe stepped aside following the Grimm into the house.
As Nick's truck pulled into the public parking lot at the resort complex Monroe was giving the Grimm a sullen look. Nick cleared his throat but before he could speak the Blutbad held up a hand.
"We've been over this a million times, Nick." Monroe hissed in an aggrieved tone of voice. "I don't think that you truly appreciate just how dangerous Schlafen Fey really are. We might be under attack and not even notice it. At least not until it's too late."
The Grimm sighed, "Well, what do you suggest we do? Just ignore it until it goes away."
"Historically, yeah, that just how people have dealt with this."
"Well," Nick said, "Then it's time to change history."
By the time that Monroe had gathered his belongings for the trip and then the two men had swung by Nick's place for his clothing and personal effects it was well past dinnertime. As if to delay the inevitable they drove to the closest restaurant and had a leisurely meal then a short stop to a nearby bar for a quick drink. The quick drink turned into a couple of beers and a prolonged game of darts with a couple of Eisbeiber who were by turns enthralled and terrified of the Grimm and his Blutbad associate.
When neither Nick nor Monroe could conceivably think of anything else to delay their trip to the resort they trudged out to Nick's truck and headed across town. The late night traffic added twenty minutes to their stalling but finally they pulled into the parking lot, gathered their bags and hightailed it to the lobby.
The clerk at the desk of the resort looked up as the two m en approached her. She flicked her eyes over the taller man feeling unsettled at his lumber-jack like plaid shirt and full scruffy beard. But the other man, smaller, pale skinned and such gorgeous blue, blue eyes.
Nick sauntered forward tossing the clerk a toothsome smile and she preened. Casting a glance over his shoulder Nick waggled his eyebrows. Monroe just rolled his own eyes. Clearing her throat the clerk captured Nick's attention and the Grimm sighed glancing down at her nametag.
Stretching her shoulder so that her breast seemed even perkier the girl said, "Hello gentlemen how may I help you?"
"Uh, Kelly…I'm Nick Burkhart and this is my partner Eddie Monroe. We have a reservation for a suite for the convention."
Her face fell at the same time that her breast deflated slightly, but she gamely carried on, "Let me just look at the registration book."
The book turned out not to be a book at all but the computer table on the counter in front of her. She flicked a finger across the screen then smiled up at both men, "Yes I see it right here."
Picking up a stylus she shoved the table at Nick, "Please sign here and I'll get you your keys."
Scrawling his name across the screen Nick waited patiently as Kelly returned with two key cards. He accepted them both then shoved one at Monroe. The Blutbad fumbled with it for a moment then tucked it into his pocket. The girl narrowed her eyes at him and Monroe snorted. Quickly she scanned the floor looking at their meager luggage, "Do you need a redcap to help you with your things?"
Monroe hurriedly picked up both bags slinging Nick's duffle over his shoulder and taking a firm grip on his own small suitcase, "Naw I think I've got it. Ready to go…sweetheart?"
Nick flinched then turning shooting the taller man a blinding smile and Monroe swallowed hard.
They found their room at the end of the hall on the third floor. It was a basic suite with a queen-sized bed tastefully dressed in white linen and a thick white duvet. Across the room from the bed were a small seating area with a sofa and two arm chairs facing a television cabinet and the mini-bar refrigerator. On the opposite wall was the large bay window. On the other side of the room was to door to the en-suite bathroom.
Monroe whistled appreciatively, "Well, at least the department doesn't skimp on the accommodations."
Nick sighed looking from the bed to the Blutbad and back again; quickly dumping the contents of his bag on the sofa the Grimm called out, "Dibs on first shower."
He fled the room leaving a disgruntled Monroe to careful fold the detective's clothes into dresser drawers while simultaneously unpacking his own things.
Nick was asleep by the time Monroe had finished his own nightly ritual of teeth brushing, humming tunelessly to himself in the shower and rigorously drying his hair with one of the warm fluffy hotel towels.
Cautiously he peeked out of the bathroom and when he was satisfied that the Grimm was in fact dead to the world he hurried across the room pulled the covers down and slipped into the bed. Their unfortunate difference in height meant that the Blutbad was now laying with his head just above Nick's and every time Monroe breathed he got a snout full of the younger man's war, enticing scent.
Monroe shuffled on the bed settling down. Even with his back turned he could still smell the other man. Nick's warm scent slipped deeper and deeper into the blutbad's senses stirring something inside him, something better left undisturbed. Finally, Monroe drifted off to sleep. And suddenly he found himself standing in the middle of a small clearing deep in the forest.
Moonlight bathed the tall pines surrounding him and Monroe cocked his head back looking up at the pale gray and lavender sky. A breeze drifted through the underbrush causing it to rustle and he jerked around sniffing at the air.
A soft, sweet scent was carried on the breeze making Monroe's voice rumble in his chest. He sighed. The warmth of the night air and that pervasive scent made the blutbad's blood run just a tiny bit hotter. He shivered despite the sultry heat. Quickly Monroe began stripping out of his clothing until he was gloriously naked under the full moon.
From somewhere behind him the wind rustled again sounding almost like a silky whisper. The voice trembled over Monroe's limbs driving itself deep into his brain, "You know what you want. What you truly desire. Give in…give in to your instincts."
"Yeah," Monroe replied. The transition came without conscious thought. And the wolf ran.
Somewhere from up ahead of him a twig snapped, and Monroe flinched at the sound of it. Then his lips pulled back in his snout and he grinned. Panting the blutbad stilled for a moment and his ears pricked forward catching the sound of shuffling feet. The hunt was on.
Barreling through the underbrush Monroe caught sight of a lithe form on the trail ahead of him. The figure was smaller, but definitely male. And the scent was more than familiar. He leapt forward bringing his hands up and caught the figure by the waist swinging him around.
Nick's eyes were wide and fearful as he was manhandled and he brought a fist up. But his shoulders slumped when he got a good look at his assailant. "Monroe, what are you doing? Dude, we need to keep a look out for this thing."
"Maybe you're lookin' for the wrong 'thing', Grimm."
"What?" Nick asked weakly trying to pull away, put some distance between himself and the blutbad. "Come on, don't mess around. We're runnin' outta time here, Monroe."
A growl rumbled low in the blutbad's chest and he lunged forward seizing the younger man by the wrists. Then he jerked Nick around until the Grimm's back was pressed against Monroe's chest. With one hand wrapped around Nick's waist the Blutbad grabbed the neck of his leather jacket tugging it down his arms. Nick's shoulders were jerked back arms flailing with the pressure of having the garment forcible pulled off.
"Oww," the Grimm objected, "Cut it out. Be careful with that…what's the hell the matter with you anyway?"
"Don't worry its fine." Monroe said tossing the coat over his shoulder. His big hand scrabbled at the waistband of the smaller man's jeans, tugging at the button. Nick jerked away managing to pull free but the claws of Monroe's left hand raked over the thigh of his pants leaving frayed material in their wake.
Quickly the blutbad pulled Nick's wrists up over his head holding both in one large, warm palm. With the other hand he tugged Nick's jeans open pushing them and his boxers down to the knee. Nick yelped in surprise at his sudden and swift partial disrobing, "What the hell, Monroe!"
His outraged cry was muffled when the larger, bulkier body of the older man pressed in close behind him. Growling deep in his throat Monroe slid a knee between Nick's thighs parting his legs abruptly. The smaller man began struggling in earnest then. But it had all the effects of a minnow buffeting against a shark. And the blutbad grinned nosing the other man's hair; breathing his scent deeply.
Leaning forward Monroe pushed Nick down, using his greater weight and strength to force the younger man onto his knees. Nick reared back trying to buck the other man off him, and Monroe issued a low rumbling growl, "You're only making this harder on yourself. I like it when you fight."
With the fingers of one hand digging painfully into the Grimm's shoulder and the others wrapped firmly around his waist Monroe dug both of own knees into the ground using the momentum to push his thick, leaking cock into the crease of Nick's ass.
Now the Grimm uttered a panicked grunt scrambling both hands over the hard packed earth trying to pull himself out from under the blutbad. Chuckling Monroe gripped his shoulder harder and drove forward. Fortunately for the Grimm, in his transformed state Monroe's dick came out of its protective foreskin glisten with pre-come, easing his entry. Nick stilled cried out from shock, and pain. And the wolf inside Monroe howled.
Monroe pulled out and thrust back inside the younger man feeling his eyes roll up in his head from the pure raw pleasure. Nick grunted and Monroe reached around long, slender fingers finding the younger man's cock, stroking over it one then twice. Too his surprise and glee Nick groaned low in own throat, panting. Then Monroe grasped Nick's cock giving it a gentle tug. Nick's back went rigid and he moaned swelling in the Blutbad's hand. "Oh…God! Monroe," Nick whimpered.
Monroe closed his eyes shivering as the wolf sprang free. He drove himself forward, thrusting in and out of the smaller body with abandon. Gasping and panting he barely was aware enough to keep his hand wrapped around the younger man's dick. Nick moaned thrusting back and Monroe rocked behind him, driving in hard enough to lift the other man off his knees. The rough thrusting reached a peak and Monroe was coming; a howl splitting the night air. From somewhere in the back of his mind the blutbad was vaguely aware of the fact that his hand was still moving over Nick's cock. Then the younger man stiffened crying out and a warm wet heat was spilling over Monroe's fingers.
Weakness flooded Monroe's body and he fell forward bearing Nick to the ground beneath him. The Grimm uttered one slightly incensed squawk then jabbed an elbow into the larger man's ribs. Grumbling under his breath the blutbad rolled to the side pulling Nick in tightly against him, letting his eyes droop closed.
When Monroe became aware again he realized two things. One his body was fully relaxed for the first time in months, a slow languorous feeling spreading from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and secondly that as his hand slid out from under his chin he wasn't laying on some leaf-strewn forest floor, but a firm cotton covered mattress. He was in a bed, the same bed he had shared with Nick the night before. It had been a dream. Sighing Monroe closed his eyes briefly, inordinately grateful, and yet somehow disappointed that the night's activities had all been a dream.
And yet Monroe took stock of himself as he slipped out of bed. His body felt like he had run five miles, tee-shirt sticking to his skin still half soaked in sweat, pajama pants pushed down. And he felt thoroughly fucked out. Casting a glance over his shoulder the blutbad quickly rummaged through his bag for clean underwear, then stalked quietly to the bathroom for a shower.
Nick awakened slowly, rolling over. Every muscle in his body was sore, from his shoulders to his ass. He tugged at the tee-shirt he was wearing looking at the long scratches marring his skin. Wincing the Grimm sat up. The scratches were pale pink in the early morning sunlight, not deep enough to require medical attention and Nick wondered how he had acquired them. Then he rolled around on the bed grimacing as his boxers pulled at the thin line of hair trailing down from his navel to his groin. The material was crusted over, sticking to his skin, and the Grimm flushed. He had dreamed…about Monroe.
God! He'd had a wet dream about Monroe! Crap, Nick hunched over elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands. He had dreamed that Monroe chased him in the woods last night. Chased Nick and caught him and done terrible, delicious things to him in the forest under the silvery moonlight.
Sighing Nick rubbed at his back trying to forget the feeling of terror and delight that the chase had caused in him. Monroe was his friend, and Nick was ashamed to have had such a dream, and as Monroe appeared fleshly showered Nick pulled his clothes out his pack tossing his friend a pained grin then ran for the sanctuary of the bathroom. Still as he washed away all the evidence of his guilty dream Nick couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that it hadn't been real.
Part two…coming soon