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He’s on his feet, gun in hand, before he’s even sure what woke him. It’s dark, too dark, and he silently wishes that Monroe and Rosalee would invest in a nightlight. Their guest room is cozy-practically a home away from home-but it’s hardly safe.
After a few seconds, a noise fills the air, and he’s quite sure it’s what pulled him from sleep. He can’t make out what, exactly, it is, but it sounds like Rosalee, and it sounds bad. Is she choking? Heart racing in his chest, he starts down the stairs, heading toward the noise.
If someone broke in under his watch, he’s going to break them. Monroe’s out of town, and at his request, Nick’s serving as protector for Rosalee. (Not that the woman can’t take care of herself, but knowing her way around a brick isn’t going to cut it for some of the threats they face, and after recent events, they’re all preferring ‘safe’ to ‘sorry.’)
The sound is coming from the downstairs bathroom, and he hesitates, hardly daring to breathe. He’s already lost her once. If something happens to her…
“Rosalee?” He knocks twice, in rapid succession. “You okay?”
All at once, the sound stops, and he freezes. Then-
“Yeah.” Her voice is weak, shaky, and decidedly not okay. “Just… Morning sickness. Stupid name,” she adds, and the air rushes back into him.
Slipping his gun into his waistband, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”
“Ye-” The last of her word is cut off by the sound, which he now recognizes: she’s sick. Of course.
Deciding to take the half-syllable as permission, he tries the door, stepping inside. Poor Rosalee is bent over the toilet, grappling with her hair with one hand, trying to balance with the other, looking absolutely miserable.
He kneels down behind her, gently catching her hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and she manages a hum of gratitude. After a moment, he sets to work, glad that Diana made him learn how to braid hair. Rosalee’s is more tangled than Diana’s usually is, but he patiently separates each knot, working her hair into a loose braid.
That dealt with, he rests a hand against her back, steadying her.
It feels like they stay there for a lifetime, but finally she pulls back, looking at him shakily. “Thank you.”
He nods. Of course he’s taking care of her; why wouldn’t he? “Feel better?”
She gives a watery laugh. “I think so. I just really, really hate this.” Horror flickers in her eyes, and she hurriedly adds, “Not being pregnant. I’m really happy about that. Gosh, I sound like a terrible mother. I know morning sickness is part of the deal, I just-”
Adalind told him about the adventures of pregnancy hormones, but he missed most of that with her. Now, he can see she wasn’t exaggerating.
“Hey.” He tugs her into his chest, and she goes easily, burying her face in her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She takes a few seconds to get herself under control, and he gently sways from side to side, trying to comfort her as best he can. Finally, she chuckles weakly. “Hormones suck. I’m sorry you have to deal with me in all my… Pregnant-ness.”
His lips twitch. “Hey, what are friends for?”
“I just… I’m tired all the time, you know?” Her words are muffled by his shirt. “And I’ll start crying at cat commercials-”
“If it makes you feel any better, I do that too.”
“-And I miss my husband, and I’m just-” She shudders, and he holds her a little tighter. “I know he’ll be home soon. And I know the kids will be here soon, and then they’ll be grown, and the next thing you know-”
“Hey.” He tugs her up, and she slowly follows. “Before you start worrying about your grandchildren-” She pales slightly, and he hurriedly finishes, “Why don’t we take care of now?”
She takes a deep breath, and nods. “Now’s good.”
“Good. So…” He considers. “Feel like eating anything? Or at least drinking some water?” Surely, after everything she’s just gone through, she’ll need to get something into her body.
“Yeah, I think… I think I can eat something.” She sounds surprised. “Maybe I’ll fix some soup, or-”
“Absolutely not.” He squeezes her arm. “Go sit on the couch, and I’ll fix you something.”
She arches a brow. “You’re going to cook?”
…. Okay, fair. “Even I can’t mess up reheated soup. And I have it on good authority that Monroe left enough vegetable soup in the fridge to feel a small army.”
Her eyes go soft at the mention of her husband, and she smiles, nodding. “Okay. Thank you. I’m gonna brush my teeth, and then I’ll be there.”
By the time she reaches the couch, he has a warm bowl of soup waiting for her. “I didn’t mess up the soup,” he assures her playfully. “And I even managed to find some crackers to put in it.”
She looks better, now; some of the color has returned to her face, and her eyes aren’t brimming with tears. “Look at you. Next stop: Top Chef.” She takes a bite of the soup, and her eyes close in pure bliss. “Mmm, this is perfect. Thank you.”
He’s about to reply, when his Grimm senses start to hum. He frowns, tilting his head to the side, seeking out the sound that’s grabbing his attention. Rosalee’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, obviously intent on questioning him. He holds up a hand- let me listen -and she nods. Then, he recognizes the sound, and brightens.
“Don’t thank me. Thank your husband.”
It takes a few seconds for his words to register. He can see the moment they click, and she beams, rising to her feet. “He’s-?”
The door creaks open as if on cue, and Monroe stumbles through, looking like he’s about to collapse on his feet. Rosalee rushes to his side, or tries, although she’s sort of stumbling herself. The two all but collapse against each other, murmuring softly, and Nick can’t help but smile. This is precisely how it’s meant to be.
“Thank you for taking care of her, man,” Monroe says, and Nick shrugs.
“Anytime.”
He’s about to leave, but Monroe stops him. “Hey, it’s the middle of the night. You can go home in the morning, okay?”
So with a smile, and a quiet bid goodnight, Nick slips back up to his room (the guest room, but he truly feels like it’s his sometimes). But he doesn’t go to sleep for a long time, just leans into his Grimm hearing, listening to the happy couple snuggling into each other on the couch, catching up on the past few days. Peaceful. Happy.
Just as it should be.