Grimm: Yessir
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1,117
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Gah, what am I even doing writing this? I have three other ideas that have been waiting so patiently for months and this is what I let take over my weekend? And I want to do a sequel?! *sigh*
Summary: From the grimm_kink prompt- "Eddie isn't sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way his wolf had started viewing Nick as alpha and he loves/hates how much that means to him."
Another night, another creepy, dirty, empty (he hopes) warehouse to inspect with the baby Grimm. Joy. Rapture. Please can I go home now?
“Head around back, see if they left a trail.”
“Yessir.” It just slips out, as easily as water. Monroe freezes, and prays to his ancestors that the Grimm who is also a detective didn’t notice. He risks a glance, and of course Nick is gaping at him like a landed salmon.
“Did you-? Please tell me that was sarcastic.”
Panic causes Monroe to do a strange dance involving outspread arms, rounded eyes, and a wobbly head while he sputters, “Y-yeah, duh, of course, totally- totally sarcastic, absolutely, I mean, come on, please, dude, don’t be ridiculous, that’s- like, I wouldn’t even because, yeah, stupid and, uh, right so, yeah.”
Nick lets the verbal car crash clatter to a halt before saying, “You totally meant it. Why did you call me sir?”
Monroe’s never been so happy to hear an unearthly moaning growl echo out of the shadows. He would rather fight for his life than explain to the baby Grimm exactly how much of a failure he is as a blutbad.
***
Of course, once the fighting’s over and they’re both still alive with mental and physical capabilities intact, the explanation remains.
“So,” Nick helpfully starts, “I’m ‘sir’ now?” His eyes dance with poorly contained amusement.
“Shut up,” Monroe snaps, returning his own eyes to the road ahead and keeping a death grip on the wheel.
“No, I’m pretty sure this is a thing we need to talk about. Maybe put on record.”
Monroe grimaces, because Nick doesn’t know how right he is. Monroe knows a lot of blutbad history, and he’s never heard of anything like this happening. It’s unprecedented. Mom would be so proud- right before she disemboweled me.
“Well, clearly you’re upset, anyway. And doesn’t talking about it, like, help?”
“Really? Golly gee, thanks, Doctor Phil.” But he heaves a sigh, and picks a place to start, “Okay, look. As far as blutbaden go, I’m middle of the pack. I’m not the biggest, or the strongest, or the fastest- I like to think I’m a bit smarter than average, but whatever, I’m not special, I’m okay.”
“You tore a man’s arm off.”
Monroe does cut a glance at Nick then, accompanied by a half-smirk, “Yeah, you keep that in mind.” He re-focuses, “Anyway, blutbaden get along okay when they’re all blood-related. But somebody’s always in charge. When I was with the family, that was my great uncle Lou. Honestly, I thought his name was ‘Sir’ until I was about twenty.”
“Really? Damn...” Nick’s voice is strange. Monroe doesn’t like it, makes him feel judged.
“It wasn’t like... you know, he wasn’t some tyrant or anything. I guess he could’ve been, but... It wasn’t a problem, doing things for him when he said to. It... it made you feel good, inside, I dunno.” He remembered the annual get-togethers- Lou could call for a beer and have five lined up inside of a minute, and he always made the final kill, no matter who brought the prey down. You lived for his approval in a smile or a pat on the shoulder or an empty chair at his side. He told the best stories. A lonely chill blows through Monroe’s mind.
“So, okay, how am I like your Uncle Lou?”
“Great uncle,” Monroe corrects, “And... I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been alone too long and... You know, I told you to not to bother me. How many times did I tell you? Now... now...”
“Now what?”
“Now you’re my fucking alpha,” Monroe snarls, hands clenching the steering wheel almost tight enough to bend, “And that’s fucked up. You’re a Grimm- no Grimm has ever been anything like an alpha to anyone, as far as I know. And I don’t want it but it’s too fucking late now, isn’t it. You came wandering across my path with your big doe eyes and your stupid questions and what was I gonna do, leave you to die?!”
“Well-”
“Yes! Any self-respecting blutbad would have done the deed himself! But nooo, I’m good now, aren’t I? So here we are, a Grimm and his fucking pet, excuse me while I find a bush to vomit into.”
Monroe lapses into a black silence, the only sound in the car his infuriated breathing.
Eventually, Nick sniffs, “Well I’m sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you.”
And Monroe can almost appreciate that Nick’s attempting humor at all. It’s sweet of him. He sighs again and smiles, a little.
“You really don’t have to do everything I say. Not that it isn’t, y’know, tempting- or flattering. But... I release you, or whatever. I am not your alpha, you are not my... beta?”
Monroe has to chuckle at that, “Doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s too late now. I wouldn’t know where to start, making this-” he waves a hand between them, “stop. It’s never happened before. I didn’t know it could happen outside a blutbad’s family. I don’t know how much control you have over me, if I’ll ever be free or if it’ll pass to our kids on and on forever.”
“Jesus,” Nick murmurs. Monroe glances over to see him staring at the road, shaking his head, looking... well, grim. “I am not comfortable with this, I’ll be honest.”
“That makes two of us, trust me.”
“Yeah, but- at least you’re a little used to it, with your Great Uncle Lou. I have no idea how to be someone’s alpha.”
“Well, dragging me off in the middle of the night to almost certain death seems to work fine.”
It’s supposed to be funny, but Nick just looks at him, eyes filled with miserable apology like Monroe never ever saw from Lou. It makes his stomach go sour and an awful anxiety scratch at his brain.
“Hey, don’t look like that. Please? Look, there’s a diner down the road, we can drop in and I’ll get you some food. How’s that?” He smiles while his thoughts race, Anything, anything, just please stop, I need you to.
Nick’s eyes only get sadder, “It’s already happening, isn’t it.”
Monroe blinks, and recognizes his emotions for what they are. The need to please, to secure his place. Five sweating beers in a row and a bloody heart and a pat on the head... That’s a good boy, little Eddie. He wants to fight it, knows he should to maintain his Weider lifestyle, but... “Well, I’m hungry, so deal with it.”
Nick sighs, “Okay. That’s- that’s good.”
And it’s enough, a tiny hit of pleasure at his alpha’s approval. I’m so screwed.
Sequel: Nossir
Word Count: 1,117
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Gah, what am I even doing writing this? I have three other ideas that have been waiting so patiently for months and this is what I let take over my weekend? And I want to do a sequel?! *sigh*
Summary: From the grimm_kink prompt- "Eddie isn't sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way his wolf had started viewing Nick as alpha and he loves/hates how much that means to him."
Another night, another creepy, dirty, empty (he hopes) warehouse to inspect with the baby Grimm. Joy. Rapture. Please can I go home now?
“Head around back, see if they left a trail.”
“Yessir.” It just slips out, as easily as water. Monroe freezes, and prays to his ancestors that the Grimm who is also a detective didn’t notice. He risks a glance, and of course Nick is gaping at him like a landed salmon.
“Did you-? Please tell me that was sarcastic.”
Panic causes Monroe to do a strange dance involving outspread arms, rounded eyes, and a wobbly head while he sputters, “Y-yeah, duh, of course, totally- totally sarcastic, absolutely, I mean, come on, please, dude, don’t be ridiculous, that’s- like, I wouldn’t even because, yeah, stupid and, uh, right so, yeah.”
Nick lets the verbal car crash clatter to a halt before saying, “You totally meant it. Why did you call me sir?”
Monroe’s never been so happy to hear an unearthly moaning growl echo out of the shadows. He would rather fight for his life than explain to the baby Grimm exactly how much of a failure he is as a blutbad.
***
Of course, once the fighting’s over and they’re both still alive with mental and physical capabilities intact, the explanation remains.
“So,” Nick helpfully starts, “I’m ‘sir’ now?” His eyes dance with poorly contained amusement.
“Shut up,” Monroe snaps, returning his own eyes to the road ahead and keeping a death grip on the wheel.
“No, I’m pretty sure this is a thing we need to talk about. Maybe put on record.”
Monroe grimaces, because Nick doesn’t know how right he is. Monroe knows a lot of blutbad history, and he’s never heard of anything like this happening. It’s unprecedented. Mom would be so proud- right before she disemboweled me.
“Well, clearly you’re upset, anyway. And doesn’t talking about it, like, help?”
“Really? Golly gee, thanks, Doctor Phil.” But he heaves a sigh, and picks a place to start, “Okay, look. As far as blutbaden go, I’m middle of the pack. I’m not the biggest, or the strongest, or the fastest- I like to think I’m a bit smarter than average, but whatever, I’m not special, I’m okay.”
“You tore a man’s arm off.”
Monroe does cut a glance at Nick then, accompanied by a half-smirk, “Yeah, you keep that in mind.” He re-focuses, “Anyway, blutbaden get along okay when they’re all blood-related. But somebody’s always in charge. When I was with the family, that was my great uncle Lou. Honestly, I thought his name was ‘Sir’ until I was about twenty.”
“Really? Damn...” Nick’s voice is strange. Monroe doesn’t like it, makes him feel judged.
“It wasn’t like... you know, he wasn’t some tyrant or anything. I guess he could’ve been, but... It wasn’t a problem, doing things for him when he said to. It... it made you feel good, inside, I dunno.” He remembered the annual get-togethers- Lou could call for a beer and have five lined up inside of a minute, and he always made the final kill, no matter who brought the prey down. You lived for his approval in a smile or a pat on the shoulder or an empty chair at his side. He told the best stories. A lonely chill blows through Monroe’s mind.
“So, okay, how am I like your Uncle Lou?”
“Great uncle,” Monroe corrects, “And... I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been alone too long and... You know, I told you to not to bother me. How many times did I tell you? Now... now...”
“Now what?”
“Now you’re my fucking alpha,” Monroe snarls, hands clenching the steering wheel almost tight enough to bend, “And that’s fucked up. You’re a Grimm- no Grimm has ever been anything like an alpha to anyone, as far as I know. And I don’t want it but it’s too fucking late now, isn’t it. You came wandering across my path with your big doe eyes and your stupid questions and what was I gonna do, leave you to die?!”
“Well-”
“Yes! Any self-respecting blutbad would have done the deed himself! But nooo, I’m good now, aren’t I? So here we are, a Grimm and his fucking pet, excuse me while I find a bush to vomit into.”
Monroe lapses into a black silence, the only sound in the car his infuriated breathing.
Eventually, Nick sniffs, “Well I’m sorry I’m such an embarrassment to you.”
And Monroe can almost appreciate that Nick’s attempting humor at all. It’s sweet of him. He sighs again and smiles, a little.
“You really don’t have to do everything I say. Not that it isn’t, y’know, tempting- or flattering. But... I release you, or whatever. I am not your alpha, you are not my... beta?”
Monroe has to chuckle at that, “Doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s too late now. I wouldn’t know where to start, making this-” he waves a hand between them, “stop. It’s never happened before. I didn’t know it could happen outside a blutbad’s family. I don’t know how much control you have over me, if I’ll ever be free or if it’ll pass to our kids on and on forever.”
“Jesus,” Nick murmurs. Monroe glances over to see him staring at the road, shaking his head, looking... well, grim. “I am not comfortable with this, I’ll be honest.”
“That makes two of us, trust me.”
“Yeah, but- at least you’re a little used to it, with your Great Uncle Lou. I have no idea how to be someone’s alpha.”
“Well, dragging me off in the middle of the night to almost certain death seems to work fine.”
It’s supposed to be funny, but Nick just looks at him, eyes filled with miserable apology like Monroe never ever saw from Lou. It makes his stomach go sour and an awful anxiety scratch at his brain.
“Hey, don’t look like that. Please? Look, there’s a diner down the road, we can drop in and I’ll get you some food. How’s that?” He smiles while his thoughts race, Anything, anything, just please stop, I need you to.
Nick’s eyes only get sadder, “It’s already happening, isn’t it.”
Monroe blinks, and recognizes his emotions for what they are. The need to please, to secure his place. Five sweating beers in a row and a bloody heart and a pat on the head... That’s a good boy, little Eddie. He wants to fight it, knows he should to maintain his Weider lifestyle, but... “Well, I’m hungry, so deal with it.”
Nick sighs, “Okay. That’s- that’s good.”
And it’s enough, a tiny hit of pleasure at his alpha’s approval. I’m so screwed.
Sequel: Nossir