Grimm: Nossir
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,096
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Oops, here's more. Sequel to Yessir. Also, info on Valravne can be found here. I kinda hope they turn up on the show someday, because they sound pretty awesome.
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."
Monroe almost drops the phone when he reads the caller ID. “Uh, hey, man.”
“Hey, sorry to call so late,” Nick says, “Got a question for ya’.”
“Shoot.” He’s almost got a hold of himself now, not quite begging on his hind legs.
“You ever heard of Valravne?”
How can you be dismayed and excited at the same time? How is that possible? “Yeah, I have.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“They can be. They’re kinda territorial. And, like, moody. Bunch of sad sacks, really. You’d think being able to fly would help, but no, not in particular.”
A soft chuckle takes a direct path along Monroe’s spine. He rolls his eyes against the shudder, This is absurd. And Nick’s talking, “Okay, thanks for the information. I’ll call you later.”
“Hey, wait, so, what about Valravne? Are they in the area, are they causing trouble? They can be nasty, y’know. I’ve heard they like blood. Heart blood.”
There’s a pause before Nick says in his infuriatingly calm cop voice, “It’ll be okay, don’t worry about it.”
Which of course sends Monroe’s worry levels through the roof, “What?! How can-? You’re not going after them tonight, are you?”
A longer pause while Monroe’s pulse doubles. “You can come if you want.”
It’s Monroe’s turn to pause while his thoughts become a maelstrom. What kind of order is that- Is he really- didn’t think he would- I can’t- I have to- he’s telling me- but I can’t- have to stop- can’t not go...
“Hey, are you still there?”
“What-? Uh... No, uh- no.”
“No, you’re not there?”
“No. You... you go ahead. S-say hi for me.”
“Okay. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” Then he’s gone. And it’s a lot more difficult than it should be to take another breath.
Somewhere inside he knew this would happen. It had to- Nick’s a Grimm, he goes out and does battle with the baddies, that’s what Grimms do. And, because he’s a baby, he needs help. Monroe helps, even if it wasn’t his idea at first. Otherwise, he’s alone.
The alpha, the alpha, the old instincts wail, You protect him, he’s important, you’re expendable.
Monroe clamps his hands over his skull and does his best to breathe through the worst of it. Then he all but dives for his best coffee. There’s no point entertaining the notion of sleep, he might as well treat himself.
You should be at his side if he’ll have you, coward, weakling.
Mug in hand, there are half a dozen projects awaiting his attention. A world of tiny screws and gears and cogs that demand the gentle touch of a craftsman, not the desperate pawing of an animal. He just needs his hands to stop shaking, claws so near the surface.
They go through you to get to him, that’s how it’s done. Blood for blood.
Exercise, that’s the thing. He can’t escape his itchy, twitching body, but he can keep it busy. Jumping jacks, handstands, weights, his rowing machine- he just needs to drain the adrenaline. But as sweat stings his eyes he feels more hunted than ever.
When he dies you’ll be alone again. No alpha, no place, just broken clocks and cozy sweaters in your little house. How will you live with yourself?
He’s not really sure how he ends up in the basement. Seemed like the front door kept sneaking up on him. It’s better here, cool to soothe his body and dark to free his mind. He’s better than this. Stronger, not a slave to the old ways. But then there’s an irony- the old ways never said anything about having a Grimm for an alpha. He has to break this, for both their sakes. It’s not natural.
Your alpha is your alpha and you must respect it. If you can’t do that, what is the point of you?
His instincts and his reason must meet some stalemate, as he descends into a senseless black fog that doesn’t lift until gray light filters through a window well. Feeling as if he’s been ravaged by an illness, Monroe stands and shuffles up the stairs. He collapses into an armchair, takes in with dull interest the mess of diversion tactics he left in his wake last night. At least I didn’t break anything.
Then the doorbell rings, and he’s at the door without really noticing what happened in between. Monroe opens it and Nick’s there and he grabs him by the shirt and yanks him inside, leaving two Starbucks cups to splash all over his front porch. He pins Nick to the wall and the time for pleasantries has long since passed as he takes lung-filling sniffs of the Grimm like gulps of water in the desert. Everything that Nick is lights up Monroe’s mind- and the one thing screamingly absent is the iron and dandruff scent of Valravne.
He pulls back, slowly, a kind of scorching cold shock in his gut, “There were no Valravne.”
Nick swallows, “Uh, no. There weren’t.”
“You said... you wanted me to come with you.”
Nick nods, as much as he can, “Yeah, and you said we have to do something about this alpha thing. So, I asked you to go, to risk your life, and you didn’t.” He actually smiles, “This is good!”
Monroe stares, totally unable to fathom the abyss of stupidity before him.
Nick’s smile slips away, “But, I mean, are you okay, man? Are you sick or something? You don’t look great, and, uh, my feet aren’t really touching the floor right now. Just by the way.” He taps the toes of his shoes on the wood.
“It didn’t work,” Monroe growls.
“It didn’t... so, I’m still your alpha?”
“Let me put it this way. If you weren’t my alpha, I would be kicking your ass up and down the street, do you understand?”
Nick sighs, as much as he can, “Yeah, yeah, I guess I do. And, I guess, last night... wasn’t much fun for you.”
“My memories aren’t too clear. Just a lot of pain, and guilt, and fear.”
Finally some damn contrition on Nick’s idiotic face, “I was trying to help.”
Monroe drags Nick away from the wall and drops him in the armchair with a terse “Don’t move.” He goes to reheat the mostly full mug of really good coffee that he left on the bathroom floor at some point. Then he sits on the couch and turns on the television.
“Uh...”
“Shut up. Just sit there.”
“Okay.”
Monroe’s learned one thing from the past ten hours. There’s no fixing this.
Please, Sir
Word Count: 1,096
Disclaimer: Recognize anything? Then it ain't mine.
A/N: Oops, here's more. Sequel to Yessir. Also, info on Valravne can be found here. I kinda hope they turn up on the show someday, because they sound pretty awesome.
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."
Monroe almost drops the phone when he reads the caller ID. “Uh, hey, man.”
“Hey, sorry to call so late,” Nick says, “Got a question for ya’.”
“Shoot.” He’s almost got a hold of himself now, not quite begging on his hind legs.
“You ever heard of Valravne?”
How can you be dismayed and excited at the same time? How is that possible? “Yeah, I have.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“They can be. They’re kinda territorial. And, like, moody. Bunch of sad sacks, really. You’d think being able to fly would help, but no, not in particular.”
A soft chuckle takes a direct path along Monroe’s spine. He rolls his eyes against the shudder, This is absurd. And Nick’s talking, “Okay, thanks for the information. I’ll call you later.”
“Hey, wait, so, what about Valravne? Are they in the area, are they causing trouble? They can be nasty, y’know. I’ve heard they like blood. Heart blood.”
There’s a pause before Nick says in his infuriatingly calm cop voice, “It’ll be okay, don’t worry about it.”
Which of course sends Monroe’s worry levels through the roof, “What?! How can-? You’re not going after them tonight, are you?”
A longer pause while Monroe’s pulse doubles. “You can come if you want.”
It’s Monroe’s turn to pause while his thoughts become a maelstrom. What kind of order is that- Is he really- didn’t think he would- I can’t- I have to- he’s telling me- but I can’t- have to stop- can’t not go...
“Hey, are you still there?”
“What-? Uh... No, uh- no.”
“No, you’re not there?”
“No. You... you go ahead. S-say hi for me.”
“Okay. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” Then he’s gone. And it’s a lot more difficult than it should be to take another breath.
Somewhere inside he knew this would happen. It had to- Nick’s a Grimm, he goes out and does battle with the baddies, that’s what Grimms do. And, because he’s a baby, he needs help. Monroe helps, even if it wasn’t his idea at first. Otherwise, he’s alone.
The alpha, the alpha, the old instincts wail, You protect him, he’s important, you’re expendable.
Monroe clamps his hands over his skull and does his best to breathe through the worst of it. Then he all but dives for his best coffee. There’s no point entertaining the notion of sleep, he might as well treat himself.
You should be at his side if he’ll have you, coward, weakling.
Mug in hand, there are half a dozen projects awaiting his attention. A world of tiny screws and gears and cogs that demand the gentle touch of a craftsman, not the desperate pawing of an animal. He just needs his hands to stop shaking, claws so near the surface.
They go through you to get to him, that’s how it’s done. Blood for blood.
Exercise, that’s the thing. He can’t escape his itchy, twitching body, but he can keep it busy. Jumping jacks, handstands, weights, his rowing machine- he just needs to drain the adrenaline. But as sweat stings his eyes he feels more hunted than ever.
When he dies you’ll be alone again. No alpha, no place, just broken clocks and cozy sweaters in your little house. How will you live with yourself?
He’s not really sure how he ends up in the basement. Seemed like the front door kept sneaking up on him. It’s better here, cool to soothe his body and dark to free his mind. He’s better than this. Stronger, not a slave to the old ways. But then there’s an irony- the old ways never said anything about having a Grimm for an alpha. He has to break this, for both their sakes. It’s not natural.
Your alpha is your alpha and you must respect it. If you can’t do that, what is the point of you?
His instincts and his reason must meet some stalemate, as he descends into a senseless black fog that doesn’t lift until gray light filters through a window well. Feeling as if he’s been ravaged by an illness, Monroe stands and shuffles up the stairs. He collapses into an armchair, takes in with dull interest the mess of diversion tactics he left in his wake last night. At least I didn’t break anything.
Then the doorbell rings, and he’s at the door without really noticing what happened in between. Monroe opens it and Nick’s there and he grabs him by the shirt and yanks him inside, leaving two Starbucks cups to splash all over his front porch. He pins Nick to the wall and the time for pleasantries has long since passed as he takes lung-filling sniffs of the Grimm like gulps of water in the desert. Everything that Nick is lights up Monroe’s mind- and the one thing screamingly absent is the iron and dandruff scent of Valravne.
He pulls back, slowly, a kind of scorching cold shock in his gut, “There were no Valravne.”
Nick swallows, “Uh, no. There weren’t.”
“You said... you wanted me to come with you.”
Nick nods, as much as he can, “Yeah, and you said we have to do something about this alpha thing. So, I asked you to go, to risk your life, and you didn’t.” He actually smiles, “This is good!”
Monroe stares, totally unable to fathom the abyss of stupidity before him.
Nick’s smile slips away, “But, I mean, are you okay, man? Are you sick or something? You don’t look great, and, uh, my feet aren’t really touching the floor right now. Just by the way.” He taps the toes of his shoes on the wood.
“It didn’t work,” Monroe growls.
“It didn’t... so, I’m still your alpha?”
“Let me put it this way. If you weren’t my alpha, I would be kicking your ass up and down the street, do you understand?”
Nick sighs, as much as he can, “Yeah, yeah, I guess I do. And, I guess, last night... wasn’t much fun for you.”
“My memories aren’t too clear. Just a lot of pain, and guilt, and fear.”
Finally some damn contrition on Nick’s idiotic face, “I was trying to help.”
Monroe drags Nick away from the wall and drops him in the armchair with a terse “Don’t move.” He goes to reheat the mostly full mug of really good coffee that he left on the bathroom floor at some point. Then he sits on the couch and turns on the television.
“Uh...”
“Shut up. Just sit there.”
“Okay.”
Monroe’s learned one thing from the past ten hours. There’s no fixing this.
Please, Sir