Fic: Comfortably Crazy - Grimm AU, pre-Nick/Monroe, PG-13
I don't know that I posted this on here. I wrote it for this prompt, which called for a role reversal - Monroe as grimm, Detective Nick Burkhardt as rehabilitated blutbad.
Title:Comfortably Crazy
Rating: PG-13
"Seriously? Like- Seriously?"
It goes against everything in Monroe's carefully polite nature to stutter and to question, to make his rather interesting new... friend repeat himself, but Monroe simply can't help it. Of all the crazy things that have happened since his mother fell ill... This isn't nearly the craziest.
But it sure feels like it.
'And why is that, huh?' Monroe scolds himself. 'Just 'cause he's hot, doesn't mean he's not a freaking monster!' Monroe's learned that, in the past few weeks, if he's learned anything: no one is as they seem. The sweet little girl at the end of Monroe's block is some weird-looking thing with hooked claws. Monroe's plumber is a giant beaver.
The good-looking police detective who busted Monroe's mailman for kidnaping is a goddamned werewolf...
'And what did you have to go and notice he's hot for!' Monroe scolds next. He's always nervous around Nick. He's supposed to be a Grimm - a legendary hunter of things like Nick and the mailman and that little girl - but he can't even look at the guy without going weak at the knees.
It's just his luck that Nick is a Wessen. Like Monroe's momma always said... The good ones are all taken or straight. ('Or, apparently, inhuman and carnivorous.')
"Settle down... I'm not that kind of a Blutbad anymore," Nick tells him, taking a swig from his beer. His lips are curved upwards where they aren't wrapped around the mouth of his bottle, and he leans against Monroe's counter top casually. But there's a sharpness in his eyes as he watches Monroe. Something that tells Monroe Nick is being more cautious than he lets on, and it sets the hair on the back of Monroe's neck on end.
He doesn't care what his mother's crazy old books say. He doesn't care what Nick says. Monroe may have been born to hunt and to fight and to kill inhuman creatures... But Momma had the right idea when she raised him to be normal instead. He could never take someone like Nick in a fight! Something like Nick, no less. And he can't say he'd ever want to.
"You're... what? Like a... vegetarian werewolf, or something?"
Monroe doesn't make any fast moves. He keeps his eyes on Nick's and his heart in them as he talks, and eventually Nick smirks. His relaxed pose actually becomes relaxed, and Monroe breathes easily for the first time since he came down to his kitchen and found "Detective Burkhardt" waiting for him.
"Blutbad," Nick reminds him. "And 'or something.' I don't hurt people." He gestures to the badge hanging around his neck on a chain. "In case you hadn't noticed... It's kind of my job to help them."
Monroe shakes his head. It's all he can do... It's a lot to take in all at once. The "delusions" that always plagued his mother - that led her to lock herself away (and, for the first eighteen years of his life, Monroe with her) - weren't really delusions after all. Werewol- Blutbads and Reapers and all manner of scary things do exist. And, whatever his mother had believed, those scary things don't - apparently - have to be scary. They live normal lives and have families and save little girls from murderous mailmen...
"What? Because I'm a Blutbad, you think I can't?" Nick asks blankly, but Monroe rushes to reassure him.
"No! No, of course not! I mean... no, I don't think that. I know you can help. You have helped! You saved that little girl! I just..."
'I wish I could do that...' Monroe catches the words on the tip of his tongue. He's choosing to see that as the gist of all his mother's Grimm books - that the Grimm are meant to help people. But, to be honest, he can't see anything in them about how. Just a lot about killing. About what to kill... and about how to kill it...
And is that his mother's legacy? The legacy of the all-mighty Grimm... Is that what Monroe's lived a lifetime of practicing yoga, and drinking wheat grass smoothies, and pursuing green alternatives in preparation for? To kill as many other species, in as macabre and medieval a fashion as possible...
"Monroe..."
Monroe's not sure what Nick sees in his face, but when he looks up from the floor, Nick isn't looking at him the way he looked at Monroe while Monroe was a suspect in the kidnaping... or the way he looked at Monroe when the both of them learned what the other is. Or even the way Nick was looking at him a moment ago...
In fact, Monroe's not sure a Blutbad is supposed to look at a Grimm like they're just- Just people. Like they would have looked at one another, maybe, before Monroe's Momma died and all this craziness began.
"Monroe, you helped save that little girl, too."
On some level, Monroe knows that this is true. Even if all he did to help, in this case, was distract an evil were- Blutbad while a good Blutbad called for police back-up.
But still. Monroe needed to hear it. Maybe be needed to hear it from Nick. The first person Monroe's talked to about Wessen and Grimms besides his batty old mother...
"Was I supposed to?" Monroe finds himself asking. "Help, I mean. Am I supposed to help people?" It isn't until Nick lays his fears to rest that Monroe realizes he was terrified that Nick might tell him 'No.' Monroe grew up hearing about things with claws and fangs and fur... But what if he is the actual monster, whatever that psycho mailman may have done to a bunch of girls? The sweet little thing with the hooked claws at the end of the block has never hurt anyone... And Nick- Nick was a hero in that cabin. And the way he looked at Monroe, the moment they met... Like Nick was afraid of him. So afraid, for at least a second, that he couldn't even hide it-
Nick just looks at him. Monroe really wishes the Grimm 'powers', or whatever he's supposed to call them, that he inherited upon his mother's death had come with a little telepathy or mind-reading ability. He has no idea what Nick is thinking.
But then Nick says, "Forget what Grimm are supposed to do... What do you want to do, Monroe?"
Monroe doesn't have to think about it. "I want to help. I do, man.... I want to put all of this... Grimm business to good use. You know, to saving people... All kinds of people, instead of just killing them."
Apparently... that was exactly the right answer. Nick grins. It's a wide, real grin - nothing like the half-for-show one Nick hid behind his beer bottle before.
It's sort of something to behold.
"Well, alright then." Nick kills his beer- ('Finishes! Think, 'finishes', man! Enough with the killing!' Monroe scolds himself once more) and then cocks an eyebrow at Monroe.
The weak-knee thing happens again.
'Jeez, dude... What have you gotten yourself into?' Monroe asks himself. Whatever it is, Monroe can't help but feel good about it with Nick grinning at him that way. And if it's crazy to feel good about having an honest-to-god werewolf baring its teeth at him...
Well. Monroe always thought he'd been raised by an agoraphobic schizophrenic.
He's comfortable with crazy.
[end.]
Title:Comfortably Crazy
Rating: PG-13
"Seriously? Like- Seriously?"
It goes against everything in Monroe's carefully polite nature to stutter and to question, to make his rather interesting new... friend repeat himself, but Monroe simply can't help it. Of all the crazy things that have happened since his mother fell ill... This isn't nearly the craziest.
But it sure feels like it.
'And why is that, huh?' Monroe scolds himself. 'Just 'cause he's hot, doesn't mean he's not a freaking monster!' Monroe's learned that, in the past few weeks, if he's learned anything: no one is as they seem. The sweet little girl at the end of Monroe's block is some weird-looking thing with hooked claws. Monroe's plumber is a giant beaver.
The good-looking police detective who busted Monroe's mailman for kidnaping is a goddamned werewolf...
'And what did you have to go and notice he's hot for!' Monroe scolds next. He's always nervous around Nick. He's supposed to be a Grimm - a legendary hunter of things like Nick and the mailman and that little girl - but he can't even look at the guy without going weak at the knees.
It's just his luck that Nick is a Wessen. Like Monroe's momma always said... The good ones are all taken or straight. ('Or, apparently, inhuman and carnivorous.')
"Settle down... I'm not that kind of a Blutbad anymore," Nick tells him, taking a swig from his beer. His lips are curved upwards where they aren't wrapped around the mouth of his bottle, and he leans against Monroe's counter top casually. But there's a sharpness in his eyes as he watches Monroe. Something that tells Monroe Nick is being more cautious than he lets on, and it sets the hair on the back of Monroe's neck on end.
He doesn't care what his mother's crazy old books say. He doesn't care what Nick says. Monroe may have been born to hunt and to fight and to kill inhuman creatures... But Momma had the right idea when she raised him to be normal instead. He could never take someone like Nick in a fight! Something like Nick, no less. And he can't say he'd ever want to.
"You're... what? Like a... vegetarian werewolf, or something?"
Monroe doesn't make any fast moves. He keeps his eyes on Nick's and his heart in them as he talks, and eventually Nick smirks. His relaxed pose actually becomes relaxed, and Monroe breathes easily for the first time since he came down to his kitchen and found "Detective Burkhardt" waiting for him.
"Blutbad," Nick reminds him. "And 'or something.' I don't hurt people." He gestures to the badge hanging around his neck on a chain. "In case you hadn't noticed... It's kind of my job to help them."
Monroe shakes his head. It's all he can do... It's a lot to take in all at once. The "delusions" that always plagued his mother - that led her to lock herself away (and, for the first eighteen years of his life, Monroe with her) - weren't really delusions after all. Werewol- Blutbads and Reapers and all manner of scary things do exist. And, whatever his mother had believed, those scary things don't - apparently - have to be scary. They live normal lives and have families and save little girls from murderous mailmen...
"What? Because I'm a Blutbad, you think I can't?" Nick asks blankly, but Monroe rushes to reassure him.
"No! No, of course not! I mean... no, I don't think that. I know you can help. You have helped! You saved that little girl! I just..."
'I wish I could do that...' Monroe catches the words on the tip of his tongue. He's choosing to see that as the gist of all his mother's Grimm books - that the Grimm are meant to help people. But, to be honest, he can't see anything in them about how. Just a lot about killing. About what to kill... and about how to kill it...
And is that his mother's legacy? The legacy of the all-mighty Grimm... Is that what Monroe's lived a lifetime of practicing yoga, and drinking wheat grass smoothies, and pursuing green alternatives in preparation for? To kill as many other species, in as macabre and medieval a fashion as possible...
"Monroe..."
Monroe's not sure what Nick sees in his face, but when he looks up from the floor, Nick isn't looking at him the way he looked at Monroe while Monroe was a suspect in the kidnaping... or the way he looked at Monroe when the both of them learned what the other is. Or even the way Nick was looking at him a moment ago...
In fact, Monroe's not sure a Blutbad is supposed to look at a Grimm like they're just- Just people. Like they would have looked at one another, maybe, before Monroe's Momma died and all this craziness began.
"Monroe, you helped save that little girl, too."
On some level, Monroe knows that this is true. Even if all he did to help, in this case, was distract an evil were- Blutbad while a good Blutbad called for police back-up.
But still. Monroe needed to hear it. Maybe be needed to hear it from Nick. The first person Monroe's talked to about Wessen and Grimms besides his batty old mother...
"Was I supposed to?" Monroe finds himself asking. "Help, I mean. Am I supposed to help people?" It isn't until Nick lays his fears to rest that Monroe realizes he was terrified that Nick might tell him 'No.' Monroe grew up hearing about things with claws and fangs and fur... But what if he is the actual monster, whatever that psycho mailman may have done to a bunch of girls? The sweet little thing with the hooked claws at the end of the block has never hurt anyone... And Nick- Nick was a hero in that cabin. And the way he looked at Monroe, the moment they met... Like Nick was afraid of him. So afraid, for at least a second, that he couldn't even hide it-
Nick just looks at him. Monroe really wishes the Grimm 'powers', or whatever he's supposed to call them, that he inherited upon his mother's death had come with a little telepathy or mind-reading ability. He has no idea what Nick is thinking.
But then Nick says, "Forget what Grimm are supposed to do... What do you want to do, Monroe?"
Monroe doesn't have to think about it. "I want to help. I do, man.... I want to put all of this... Grimm business to good use. You know, to saving people... All kinds of people, instead of just killing them."
Apparently... that was exactly the right answer. Nick grins. It's a wide, real grin - nothing like the half-for-show one Nick hid behind his beer bottle before.
It's sort of something to behold.
"Well, alright then." Nick kills his beer- ('Finishes! Think, 'finishes', man! Enough with the killing!' Monroe scolds himself once more) and then cocks an eyebrow at Monroe.
The weak-knee thing happens again.
'Jeez, dude... What have you gotten yourself into?' Monroe asks himself. Whatever it is, Monroe can't help but feel good about it with Nick grinning at him that way. And if it's crazy to feel good about having an honest-to-god werewolf baring its teeth at him...
Well. Monroe always thought he'd been raised by an agoraphobic schizophrenic.
He's comfortable with crazy.
[end.]