Grimm Fic: A Monroe Family Easter
Title: A Monroe Family Easter
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1,700
Summary: Well, family holidays can be stressful for everyone… especially if you're a Grimm dating a Blutbad.
A/N: This one’s for virgo79 - thanks for the prompt, hon. It fills the Holidays square on my Dark Bingo card.
Happy Easter, everybody!
----
Monroe eased his battered VW beetle to a halt at a corner in the quiet suburban community and threw it into park. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Nick and gave him his “meaningful” expression.
“What?” Nick said. He was nervous enough to be meeting Monroe’s family for the first time, and Monroe’s suddenly eyeing him only ratcheted up his anxiety.
“We can still turn around. They haven’t seen us yet. I’ll make an excuse and we can just have a nice dinner closer to home.”
“What? Monroe, no. It’s Easter and your mother’s expecting us. That would be rude.”
“I don’t think you fully realize just what you’re in for,” Monroe pointed out slowly.
Nick merely stared at him, unblinking.
“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He put the car back into gear and they drove another two blocks to his boyhood home.
Nick was surprised to find that the house was utterly charming; set back on a wooded lot, it was a large and sprawling farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, green shutters and an absolute riot of daffodils decorating the front yard. Nick smiled down on them as he followed Monroe up the walk. “You really grew up here?” Nick noticed the treehouse in the side yard and the fact that the house backed up onto a large park. Given all the dark looks Monroe flashed whenever conversation turned to his childhood, Nick was somehow expecting a medieval castle and dungeon setup.
“Yeah, it was pretty great for a kid. Lots of paths for hiking, fishing - also hunting. I told you this might be a little weird for me.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Monroe sighed dramatically and the slump of his shoulders was almost enough for Nick to relent. But they’d driven nearly 90 miles to get here, and family, after all, was family. Monroe rang the bell.
The door opened seconds later and a tiny woman no more than five feet tall stood there, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hello, Mama,” Monroe said, and Nick stared at him; his normally snarky boyfriend’s voice had dropped to a near-whisper and he was shifting nervously from foot to foot.
She dropped her apron and held her arms out; Monroe stepped forward and they embraced, he with his arms around her shoulders, she with hers tight around his waist. “Mein Sonn, I’m so happy to see you,” she murmured in heavily accented English and Nick was almost embarrassed to be intruding on their tender moment.
They parted and Monroe kept his arm around her shoulders as he introduced them. “Mama, this is Nick.”
Large eyes the color of cornflowers peered up at Nick, sizing him up, and he quickly realized that her appearance as a standard issue, industrial-strength German mother was merely that. The eyes that held his were intelligent, and shrewd, and Nick had an inexplicable urge to drop to the ground and present her with his belly. He held out the bouquet of lilies he’d brought as a sort of shield instead.
“Hello, Nicholas,” she said, accepting the flowers.
He held out a hand. “Hel-hello, Mrs…”
“Ve vill have none of dat,” she said and knocked his hand aside. “Anna. Please call me Anna. Come, ve hug!” Nick held his arms to the side as she pulled him in for a bear hug that took the breath from him. She smelled like cinnamon, with an undercurrent that was something like flowers. He closed his eyes and remembered his own mother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Anna.”
“Come in, Schatzi and ve see your cousins!” she said, patting Monroe on the chest before she went back into the house. Monroe threw a panicked glance at Nick and led the way.
The house was about what Nick would have expected from a large German family - photos covered nearly every horizontal surface and the dark, wood-paneled walls were decorated with a variety of decorative plates and scenic paintings of the old country with the odd portrait of the Pope mixed in for good measure. The furniture in the parlor was covered with plastic slipcovers, and a plastic runner led the way from the front door to the kitchen. On their way through, Nick noticed a large dining table set up, with a few older men gathered at it, drinking schnapps, speaking in rapid-fire German and laughing; he assumed they were Monroe’s uncles. In the backyard, he glimpsed a crowd of young boys running around with abandon under the diffident supervision of their parents.
“No nieces or female cousins?” Nick observed.
“Our clan is very male-dominated. There’s no explanation for it - everyone just seem to have sons in our family,” Monroe said with a shrug. He went over to the kitchen table and snagged a deviled egg off a tray. Anna made a tsking sound and threw him an admonishing look, but when he looked away sheepishly, she beamed at him. Nick felt warm inside on Monroe’s behalf.
The table, Nick noticed, was laid out for a buffet, practically groaning from a wide variety of smoked and roasted meats, salads and breads. As Nick eyed up a particularly tasty-looking sausage, Monroe snagged his wrist. “What?”
“The landjaeger? Has Jaegerbar in it.”
“What? No!” Nick pulled his hand back and kept it cradled against his chest.
“Yeah, my Uncle Anton smokes all his own meats. Keep away from the salamis, the kielbasa, and the braunschweiger too. And the ham - it’s Bauerschwein. And whatever you do, just don’t eat the horka, all right?” Monroe couldn’t suppress a shudder.
“Why, is there something - or someone in it - I should know about?”
“No, it’s just disgusting.”
As Nick took an involuntary step away from the table, a movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head. His eyes widened and he grabbed Monroe’s sleeve. “Monroe, the Easter baskets...”
“Yes, the chocolate bunnies are real bunnies,” Monroe said wearily, cringing. “What, no marshmallow chicks this year, Ma?”
“No, dey vere all out vhen I vent,” she replied. “De farmer said de late frost affected de hens.” She struggled to transfer a pile of potato salad into a large serving bowl, and Monroe hurried to help her.
Nick wandered over to the sliding glass door that overlooked the back deck and the rest of the property, to watch the kids out there playing. He thought maybe they were doing an egg hunt or something, but on closer inspection they seemed to be stalking small animals - a lad who looked to be about seven had already caught a squirrel and was tearing into it with his teeth. Nick quickly turned around, his face blanching. Monroe caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile.
Feeling like he had nowhere to stand comfortably in the kitchen, Nick wandered into the dining room, and was taking in the decorative plates hanging on the wall. They depicted typically pastoral hunting scenes, but on closer inspection, all the hunters were actually Blutbaden, and their game was human. “OK,” he said under his breath and silently reminded himself that all families had their own idiosyncrasies.
Nick backed away from the wall and into another person. “Excuse me,” he said, turning. A giant of a man - taller than Monroe by at least three inches - stood behind him. “H-hello,” Nick stammered, craning his neck to look at him.
“So you came with Monroe, huh?” the big man rumbled. “You a freak like him?” he asked, the menace unmistakable in his tone.
Nick felt his face redden, and mentally prepared himself for a fight. Dealing with homophobes was an unfortunate part of life, but he didn’t want to make a scene in Anna’s house. “Excuse me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even.
“A vegetarian?” the man spat, the contempt in his voice and on his face plain to see.
“Johnny!” Monroe called sharply. Nick glanced over and it seemed to him that Monroe’s body filled the entire doorway he was standing in as he glowered at the man. Johnny, for his part, immediately backed off. “I see you’ve met my baby brother, Nick,” Monroe said, sidling up to Nick and standing just behind him.
Nick held out his hand and Johnny shook it diffidently in a massive fist. “Pleased to meet you. I hear you’re a cop down in Portland.”
“Yeah, I uh…”
“You need a college degree for that?”
“Yes.”
Johnny looked disappointed and moved away.
“Sorry about that,” Monroe murmured to him, his voice low so that only Nick could hear. “My family isn’t exactly all-accepting of my life choices.”
“They know about us, right?”
“Oh, of course - that’s not an issue. My mom’s brother Ernst was gay.”
“OK, well, good.”
“They don’t know you’re a Grimm, though.”
Nick spluttered and Monroe held up a hand. “Hold on, now. My mom knows, but no one else. Believe me, if she accepts you, they all will.”
“And does she? Accept me?”
“Are you still breathing?” Monroe cocked his head as he caught some of the conversation going on at the dining table.
“You remember dat girl?” one of the uncles was saying. “She vas wery nice, a sveet girl!”
“Aw crap.”
“What?”
”Sveet to you, maybe, Anton, but…”
“Let’s go,” Monroe said, taking Nick by his elbow and ushering him back into the kitchen.
“What? They’re talking about old girlfriends.”
“Well, let’s just say they’re not exactly referring to sexual conquests.”
“Jesus, Monroe. I will never give you a hard time about not visiting your family again.”
“I won’t say I told you so…”
“Yeah, OK. How long before it’s not impolite to leave?”
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Nick/Monroe
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1,700
Summary: Well, family holidays can be stressful for everyone… especially if you're a Grimm dating a Blutbad.
A/N: This one’s for virgo79 - thanks for the prompt, hon. It fills the Holidays square on my Dark Bingo card.
Happy Easter, everybody!
----
Monroe eased his battered VW beetle to a halt at a corner in the quiet suburban community and threw it into park. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Nick and gave him his “meaningful” expression.
“What?” Nick said. He was nervous enough to be meeting Monroe’s family for the first time, and Monroe’s suddenly eyeing him only ratcheted up his anxiety.
“We can still turn around. They haven’t seen us yet. I’ll make an excuse and we can just have a nice dinner closer to home.”
“What? Monroe, no. It’s Easter and your mother’s expecting us. That would be rude.”
“I don’t think you fully realize just what you’re in for,” Monroe pointed out slowly.
Nick merely stared at him, unblinking.
“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He put the car back into gear and they drove another two blocks to his boyhood home.
Nick was surprised to find that the house was utterly charming; set back on a wooded lot, it was a large and sprawling farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, green shutters and an absolute riot of daffodils decorating the front yard. Nick smiled down on them as he followed Monroe up the walk. “You really grew up here?” Nick noticed the treehouse in the side yard and the fact that the house backed up onto a large park. Given all the dark looks Monroe flashed whenever conversation turned to his childhood, Nick was somehow expecting a medieval castle and dungeon setup.
“Yeah, it was pretty great for a kid. Lots of paths for hiking, fishing - also hunting. I told you this might be a little weird for me.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Monroe sighed dramatically and the slump of his shoulders was almost enough for Nick to relent. But they’d driven nearly 90 miles to get here, and family, after all, was family. Monroe rang the bell.
The door opened seconds later and a tiny woman no more than five feet tall stood there, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hello, Mama,” Monroe said, and Nick stared at him; his normally snarky boyfriend’s voice had dropped to a near-whisper and he was shifting nervously from foot to foot.
She dropped her apron and held her arms out; Monroe stepped forward and they embraced, he with his arms around her shoulders, she with hers tight around his waist. “Mein Sonn, I’m so happy to see you,” she murmured in heavily accented English and Nick was almost embarrassed to be intruding on their tender moment.
They parted and Monroe kept his arm around her shoulders as he introduced them. “Mama, this is Nick.”
Large eyes the color of cornflowers peered up at Nick, sizing him up, and he quickly realized that her appearance as a standard issue, industrial-strength German mother was merely that. The eyes that held his were intelligent, and shrewd, and Nick had an inexplicable urge to drop to the ground and present her with his belly. He held out the bouquet of lilies he’d brought as a sort of shield instead.
“Hello, Nicholas,” she said, accepting the flowers.
He held out a hand. “Hel-hello, Mrs…”
“Ve vill have none of dat,” she said and knocked his hand aside. “Anna. Please call me Anna. Come, ve hug!” Nick held his arms to the side as she pulled him in for a bear hug that took the breath from him. She smelled like cinnamon, with an undercurrent that was something like flowers. He closed his eyes and remembered his own mother.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Anna.”
“Come in, Schatzi and ve see your cousins!” she said, patting Monroe on the chest before she went back into the house. Monroe threw a panicked glance at Nick and led the way.
The house was about what Nick would have expected from a large German family - photos covered nearly every horizontal surface and the dark, wood-paneled walls were decorated with a variety of decorative plates and scenic paintings of the old country with the odd portrait of the Pope mixed in for good measure. The furniture in the parlor was covered with plastic slipcovers, and a plastic runner led the way from the front door to the kitchen. On their way through, Nick noticed a large dining table set up, with a few older men gathered at it, drinking schnapps, speaking in rapid-fire German and laughing; he assumed they were Monroe’s uncles. In the backyard, he glimpsed a crowd of young boys running around with abandon under the diffident supervision of their parents.
“No nieces or female cousins?” Nick observed.
“Our clan is very male-dominated. There’s no explanation for it - everyone just seem to have sons in our family,” Monroe said with a shrug. He went over to the kitchen table and snagged a deviled egg off a tray. Anna made a tsking sound and threw him an admonishing look, but when he looked away sheepishly, she beamed at him. Nick felt warm inside on Monroe’s behalf.
The table, Nick noticed, was laid out for a buffet, practically groaning from a wide variety of smoked and roasted meats, salads and breads. As Nick eyed up a particularly tasty-looking sausage, Monroe snagged his wrist. “What?”
“The landjaeger? Has Jaegerbar in it.”
“What? No!” Nick pulled his hand back and kept it cradled against his chest.
“Yeah, my Uncle Anton smokes all his own meats. Keep away from the salamis, the kielbasa, and the braunschweiger too. And the ham - it’s Bauerschwein. And whatever you do, just don’t eat the horka, all right?” Monroe couldn’t suppress a shudder.
“Why, is there something - or someone in it - I should know about?”
“No, it’s just disgusting.”
As Nick took an involuntary step away from the table, a movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head. His eyes widened and he grabbed Monroe’s sleeve. “Monroe, the Easter baskets...”
“Yes, the chocolate bunnies are real bunnies,” Monroe said wearily, cringing. “What, no marshmallow chicks this year, Ma?”
“No, dey vere all out vhen I vent,” she replied. “De farmer said de late frost affected de hens.” She struggled to transfer a pile of potato salad into a large serving bowl, and Monroe hurried to help her.
Nick wandered over to the sliding glass door that overlooked the back deck and the rest of the property, to watch the kids out there playing. He thought maybe they were doing an egg hunt or something, but on closer inspection they seemed to be stalking small animals - a lad who looked to be about seven had already caught a squirrel and was tearing into it with his teeth. Nick quickly turned around, his face blanching. Monroe caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile.
Feeling like he had nowhere to stand comfortably in the kitchen, Nick wandered into the dining room, and was taking in the decorative plates hanging on the wall. They depicted typically pastoral hunting scenes, but on closer inspection, all the hunters were actually Blutbaden, and their game was human. “OK,” he said under his breath and silently reminded himself that all families had their own idiosyncrasies.
Nick backed away from the wall and into another person. “Excuse me,” he said, turning. A giant of a man - taller than Monroe by at least three inches - stood behind him. “H-hello,” Nick stammered, craning his neck to look at him.
“So you came with Monroe, huh?” the big man rumbled. “You a freak like him?” he asked, the menace unmistakable in his tone.
Nick felt his face redden, and mentally prepared himself for a fight. Dealing with homophobes was an unfortunate part of life, but he didn’t want to make a scene in Anna’s house. “Excuse me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even.
“A vegetarian?” the man spat, the contempt in his voice and on his face plain to see.
“Johnny!” Monroe called sharply. Nick glanced over and it seemed to him that Monroe’s body filled the entire doorway he was standing in as he glowered at the man. Johnny, for his part, immediately backed off. “I see you’ve met my baby brother, Nick,” Monroe said, sidling up to Nick and standing just behind him.
Nick held out his hand and Johnny shook it diffidently in a massive fist. “Pleased to meet you. I hear you’re a cop down in Portland.”
“Yeah, I uh…”
“You need a college degree for that?”
“Yes.”
Johnny looked disappointed and moved away.
“Sorry about that,” Monroe murmured to him, his voice low so that only Nick could hear. “My family isn’t exactly all-accepting of my life choices.”
“They know about us, right?”
“Oh, of course - that’s not an issue. My mom’s brother Ernst was gay.”
“OK, well, good.”
“They don’t know you’re a Grimm, though.”
Nick spluttered and Monroe held up a hand. “Hold on, now. My mom knows, but no one else. Believe me, if she accepts you, they all will.”
“And does she? Accept me?”
“Are you still breathing?” Monroe cocked his head as he caught some of the conversation going on at the dining table.
“You remember dat girl?” one of the uncles was saying. “She vas wery nice, a sveet girl!”
“Aw crap.”
“What?”
”Sveet to you, maybe, Anton, but…”
“Let’s go,” Monroe said, taking Nick by his elbow and ushering him back into the kitchen.
“What? They’re talking about old girlfriends.”
“Well, let’s just say they’re not exactly referring to sexual conquests.”
“Jesus, Monroe. I will never give you a hard time about not visiting your family again.”
“I won’t say I told you so…”
“Yeah, OK. How long before it’s not impolite to leave?”
----
Thank you for your time.