Grimm Fic: Tru Luv 4Ever
Title: Tru Luv 4Ever
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1,400
Summary: It’s Nick and Monroe’s first Valentine’s Day!
A/N: Fill for guanin’s prompt on the Grimm Kink Meme.
----
Nick pulled his car up to the curb in front of his house and put it into park. He was staring out of the windshield for fully three minutes before he realized that he was doing it. “Man, I need some sleep,” he said to no one in particular and reached out to cut the engine.
He hauled himself out of the car, shut the door and trudged up the front walk towards the front door. All he could think of was sleep - getting as much of it as he could, as quickly as he could - plus a vague notion of looking forward to some morning cuddles in the warm arms of his favorite blutbad.
His latest case had been long, and exhausting, and he’d quite literally spent the last 72 hours in the same clothes, living on nothing but coffee and Snickers bars and interviewing too many clueless witnesses. In the end, the perp had basically confessed the second they’d gotten him into an interrogation room, and Nick wondered if all the legwork had even been necessary.
He eased the door closed behind him, not wanting to wake Monroe. Actually, he wanted Monroe awake very much, because he missed him so much, but he knew well the consequences of a cranky and under-rested blutbad, and he didn’t want to tempt fate. He locked up and walked as quietly as he could to the kitchen in search of a snack before heading up.
He opened up the fridge and grabbed the milk carton from the door, then bent over to see what he could make a quick snack of.
And then he saw it. There on the top shelf, carefully wrapped and resting on an elegant serving plate: a heart-shaped cream tart decorated with raspberries and drizzled with dark chocolate.
Nick straightened, closed his eyes and groaned as he suddenly realized that he had just screwed up royally. He glanced over at the wall calendar, saw that Tuesday, February 14th was encircled with a black marker, that someone - him, actually - had gone so far as to draw tiny red hearts around the date, and smiley faces, and had written down, “Nick and Monroe’s 1st Valentine’s” in the space beneath the date.
“Shit.”
He’d completely forgotten.
But not only had he forgotten the holiday, they wouldn’t have been celebrating it to begin with if he hadn’t made such a big deal about it.
”Come on, Monroe, it’s Valentime’s” he’d said.
Monroe’s left eyebrow actually touched his hairline as he replied, ”Are you pronouncing it like a 6-year old for a reason?”
“We should do something - you only have your first Valentine’s Day once, you know. As a couple.”
“You’re being uncharacteristically insistent about this. Why? The whole holiday’s a sham perpetuated by the greeting card and plush toy industries, you know.”
“Can’t I just want to spend a romantic evening with you?” Nick had wheedled. He’d even gone so far as to nuzzle his nose against Monroe’s neck when he’d said it, knowing he couldn’t resist him at that point. Of course, Monroe had given in.
So Nick went and drew silly hearts on the calendar, and Monroe spent weeks finding recipes to try out on Nick, and everything was set.
He had set it all up for a reason - had forced Monroe to agree to a romantic dinner, wine, dessert, the whole nine - because he had a damn great surprise planned. Until a case involving the murder of a city councilman’s nanny had been dropped into his lap and he’d forgotten all about it.
He put the milk away - trying and failing to ignore the unconsumed scallops and champagne grapes he also spied in the fridge - and shrugged out of his coat. Then he headed up the stairs, fully prepared to face the wrath of a stood-up blutbad
----
Nick leaned against the doorway of their bedroom and watched Monroe sleep. He was lying on his back with his arms flung above his head; the brown t-shirt he wore had gotten hiked up, exposing his belly, and he looked exactly like a great, big teddy bear. Nick’s heart melted, and then it broke because he’d managed to disappoint Monroe yet again - something he’d been doing a lot lately, and Monroe was always so understanding.
“What - you’re a cop,” Monroe would say. “I know it’s a package deal, Nick - sometimes your job has to take precedence. It’s not like you’re out golfing or something useless - you’re catching bad guys.”
Nick tiptoed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, got undressed and headed back to the bedroom. He got in as carefully as he could, backing up so that his back rested against Monroe’s hip, who always seemed to want some sort of physical contact with him when they were in bed. He was just settling his head into his pillow when a pair of arms encircled him and pulled him close.
“You’re home,” Monroe said, his voice sleep-scratchy and low in Nick’s ear.
“Yeah, finally.”
“You catch the bad guy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” Monroe whispered, planting a kiss on Nick’s ear and sighing.
“Sorry I missed Valentine’s,” Nick said.
“What? Oh, that’s OK, you were working.”
“But I saw the tart in the fridge you made. I missed it.”
“It’ll keep until tomorrow. You’ve been on for three straight days, you’re probably taking comp time tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“So we’ll have our dinner then.”
“But I stood you up.”
“You were working.”
“Damn it, Monroe, can you let me beat myself up just a little?” Nick sat up and looked down at him. “I’m a bad boyfriend, I missed Valentine’s Day.”
“So what?”
“So I made you plan a stupid, romantic dinner and you made a nice dessert, and I completely forgot about it.”
“You forgot about it?”
“And I feel really bad.”
”You forgot about it?”
“Like I said -“
“Didn’t it mean anything to you? All I did for you? Made you a nice dinner, dessert - your favorite, I might add. And you forgot about it?” Monroe’s voice was rising at the ends of his sentences, a sure sign he was upset.
Nick swallowed, and wished he could shrink into a tiny, tiny thing and disappear between the gaps in the floorboards. “I’m sorry.”
Then Monroe sat up, wrapped his arms around him and chuckled into his ear. “Come on, these things happen, babe. Seriously, there’s always tomorrow.”
Nick hit him on the shoulder, but snuggled up against him just the same. He was really glad Monroe was awake so he could have him to talk to. In lots of ways, these minutes before they fell asleep were his favorite of the day.
“Oh, but wait!” Nick said, remembering that is was still technically Valentine’s Day - for another fifteen minutes, anyway - and he could at least give Monroe his present. “I did remember one thing!” He got up, padded over to his sock drawer, and removed a small box from the bottom of it. He returned to the bed and presented it to Monroe with a flourish. “I got you something.”
Monroe’s eyes lit up but then he looked at Nick admonishingly. “You shouldn’t have. It’s just Valentine’s Day, it’s not important.”
“It is. You are. Open it.”
Monroe pulled the ribbon off and eased the box open to peer inside. “What the - Nick!” he breathed, suddenly speechless. He pulled the antique pocket watch out of the satin pouch it was nestled within and held it close to his face, inspecting the face and other markings. “Patek-Philippe, diamond movement, circa 1900. Whose is it?”
“It’s yours.”
“What? No! This thing is… well, it’s worth more than both of us make in a year!”
“It was my grandfather’s. And it has never worked, at least not in my lifetime. I thought you’d enjoy restoring it, and then you could, you know, keep it. I mean, I don’t really have a use for it, and I know you’ll -“
Nick’s words were cut off as Monroe kissed him breathless. “I take back everything I ever said about Valentine’s being a stupid and useless holiday,” he said when they parted.
“I take it you like it, then,” Nick snarked, and Monroe pulled him down on top of him in the bed.
“Let me show you how much,” he growled, and Nick laughed as Monroe nipped him on the neck.
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1,400
Summary: It’s Nick and Monroe’s first Valentine’s Day!
A/N: Fill for guanin’s prompt on the Grimm Kink Meme.
----
Nick pulled his car up to the curb in front of his house and put it into park. He was staring out of the windshield for fully three minutes before he realized that he was doing it. “Man, I need some sleep,” he said to no one in particular and reached out to cut the engine.
He hauled himself out of the car, shut the door and trudged up the front walk towards the front door. All he could think of was sleep - getting as much of it as he could, as quickly as he could - plus a vague notion of looking forward to some morning cuddles in the warm arms of his favorite blutbad.
His latest case had been long, and exhausting, and he’d quite literally spent the last 72 hours in the same clothes, living on nothing but coffee and Snickers bars and interviewing too many clueless witnesses. In the end, the perp had basically confessed the second they’d gotten him into an interrogation room, and Nick wondered if all the legwork had even been necessary.
He eased the door closed behind him, not wanting to wake Monroe. Actually, he wanted Monroe awake very much, because he missed him so much, but he knew well the consequences of a cranky and under-rested blutbad, and he didn’t want to tempt fate. He locked up and walked as quietly as he could to the kitchen in search of a snack before heading up.
He opened up the fridge and grabbed the milk carton from the door, then bent over to see what he could make a quick snack of.
And then he saw it. There on the top shelf, carefully wrapped and resting on an elegant serving plate: a heart-shaped cream tart decorated with raspberries and drizzled with dark chocolate.
Nick straightened, closed his eyes and groaned as he suddenly realized that he had just screwed up royally. He glanced over at the wall calendar, saw that Tuesday, February 14th was encircled with a black marker, that someone - him, actually - had gone so far as to draw tiny red hearts around the date, and smiley faces, and had written down, “Nick and Monroe’s 1st Valentine’s” in the space beneath the date.
“Shit.”
He’d completely forgotten.
But not only had he forgotten the holiday, they wouldn’t have been celebrating it to begin with if he hadn’t made such a big deal about it.
”Come on, Monroe, it’s Valentime’s” he’d said.
Monroe’s left eyebrow actually touched his hairline as he replied, ”Are you pronouncing it like a 6-year old for a reason?”
“We should do something - you only have your first Valentine’s Day once, you know. As a couple.”
“You’re being uncharacteristically insistent about this. Why? The whole holiday’s a sham perpetuated by the greeting card and plush toy industries, you know.”
“Can’t I just want to spend a romantic evening with you?” Nick had wheedled. He’d even gone so far as to nuzzle his nose against Monroe’s neck when he’d said it, knowing he couldn’t resist him at that point. Of course, Monroe had given in.
So Nick went and drew silly hearts on the calendar, and Monroe spent weeks finding recipes to try out on Nick, and everything was set.
He had set it all up for a reason - had forced Monroe to agree to a romantic dinner, wine, dessert, the whole nine - because he had a damn great surprise planned. Until a case involving the murder of a city councilman’s nanny had been dropped into his lap and he’d forgotten all about it.
He put the milk away - trying and failing to ignore the unconsumed scallops and champagne grapes he also spied in the fridge - and shrugged out of his coat. Then he headed up the stairs, fully prepared to face the wrath of a stood-up blutbad
----
Nick leaned against the doorway of their bedroom and watched Monroe sleep. He was lying on his back with his arms flung above his head; the brown t-shirt he wore had gotten hiked up, exposing his belly, and he looked exactly like a great, big teddy bear. Nick’s heart melted, and then it broke because he’d managed to disappoint Monroe yet again - something he’d been doing a lot lately, and Monroe was always so understanding.
“What - you’re a cop,” Monroe would say. “I know it’s a package deal, Nick - sometimes your job has to take precedence. It’s not like you’re out golfing or something useless - you’re catching bad guys.”
Nick tiptoed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, got undressed and headed back to the bedroom. He got in as carefully as he could, backing up so that his back rested against Monroe’s hip, who always seemed to want some sort of physical contact with him when they were in bed. He was just settling his head into his pillow when a pair of arms encircled him and pulled him close.
“You’re home,” Monroe said, his voice sleep-scratchy and low in Nick’s ear.
“Yeah, finally.”
“You catch the bad guy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” Monroe whispered, planting a kiss on Nick’s ear and sighing.
“Sorry I missed Valentine’s,” Nick said.
“What? Oh, that’s OK, you were working.”
“But I saw the tart in the fridge you made. I missed it.”
“It’ll keep until tomorrow. You’ve been on for three straight days, you’re probably taking comp time tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“So we’ll have our dinner then.”
“But I stood you up.”
“You were working.”
“Damn it, Monroe, can you let me beat myself up just a little?” Nick sat up and looked down at him. “I’m a bad boyfriend, I missed Valentine’s Day.”
“So what?”
“So I made you plan a stupid, romantic dinner and you made a nice dessert, and I completely forgot about it.”
“You forgot about it?”
“And I feel really bad.”
”You forgot about it?”
“Like I said -“
“Didn’t it mean anything to you? All I did for you? Made you a nice dinner, dessert - your favorite, I might add. And you forgot about it?” Monroe’s voice was rising at the ends of his sentences, a sure sign he was upset.
Nick swallowed, and wished he could shrink into a tiny, tiny thing and disappear between the gaps in the floorboards. “I’m sorry.”
Then Monroe sat up, wrapped his arms around him and chuckled into his ear. “Come on, these things happen, babe. Seriously, there’s always tomorrow.”
Nick hit him on the shoulder, but snuggled up against him just the same. He was really glad Monroe was awake so he could have him to talk to. In lots of ways, these minutes before they fell asleep were his favorite of the day.
“Oh, but wait!” Nick said, remembering that is was still technically Valentine’s Day - for another fifteen minutes, anyway - and he could at least give Monroe his present. “I did remember one thing!” He got up, padded over to his sock drawer, and removed a small box from the bottom of it. He returned to the bed and presented it to Monroe with a flourish. “I got you something.”
Monroe’s eyes lit up but then he looked at Nick admonishingly. “You shouldn’t have. It’s just Valentine’s Day, it’s not important.”
“It is. You are. Open it.”
Monroe pulled the ribbon off and eased the box open to peer inside. “What the - Nick!” he breathed, suddenly speechless. He pulled the antique pocket watch out of the satin pouch it was nestled within and held it close to his face, inspecting the face and other markings. “Patek-Philippe, diamond movement, circa 1900. Whose is it?”
“It’s yours.”
“What? No! This thing is… well, it’s worth more than both of us make in a year!”
“It was my grandfather’s. And it has never worked, at least not in my lifetime. I thought you’d enjoy restoring it, and then you could, you know, keep it. I mean, I don’t really have a use for it, and I know you’ll -“
Nick’s words were cut off as Monroe kissed him breathless. “I take back everything I ever said about Valentine’s being a stupid and useless holiday,” he said when they parted.
“I take it you like it, then,” Nick snarked, and Monroe pulled him down on top of him in the bed.
“Let me show you how much,” he growled, and Nick laughed as Monroe nipped him on the neck.
----
Thank you for your time.