Chapter Text
Detective Nick Burkhardt stood in the field and shivered. He was tired of this, when was it going to stop raining. This was the third time in four days that he had been soaked to the skin, and he had enough.
Possibly the worst part was the bothersome tickle at the back of his throat. Nick was tough, but he knew he was coming down with something. He was doing his best to suppress it, but he knew that Hank or Wu would notice before long, and Renard too.
Then Nick would be sidelined and sent home like a child, and he just wanted to get whoever (or whatever) had killed their unfortunate victim.
Gary Willis was human. But it was still a weird case. For a start they hadn’t found a body as such, just a pile of jelly-ish goo which DNA said used to be a person called Gary Willis.
It was late, Nick’s lead was a dead end, as he had suspected it would be, he was soaked through, cold and miserable, to cap things off nicely he was so far out from the station by the time he got back his shift would have been long over.
He made it to the station, hunched miserably into his damp clothes, second change today, so he didn’t have dry clothes to change into in his locker.
Wu and Hank were gone, but Nick’s luck ran out when he practically walked into the Captain.
Sean Renard looked down at his Grimm, taking in every detail, the soaked and muddy clothing, the shivers, the red-rimmed big blue eyes that were practically begging him not to notice.
“Nick, go home.” He said firmly, holding on to the impassive mask he usually perfected around his men.
His Grimm looked up, trying for impassive himself and failing miserably. “I…” His eyes rolled up in his head, and he pitched forward into the startled Captain’s arms.
Sean thanked several deities at once that he had good reflexes as he suddenly found himself with a deadweight of exhausted Nick. Muttering a small curse, he swept the younger man up in his arms, staggering a little under his weight. For all that he was smaller than Sean, and slighter in build, Nick was no lightweight.
Sean’s wesen blood gave him above average strength, so he managed to carry Nick to his car without difficulty. Put Nick in the passenger seat, despite sleepy protests, ordered him to stay put and went back for his coat and briefcase.
By the time he returned to the vehicle, Nick was asleep. Sagged against the seatbelt which wasn’t going to be comfortable. Sean put a gentle hand behind Nick’s head and adjusted the seat so it tipped back a little, settling Nick so that he was resting comfortably.
The rain was still slashing down as Sean exited the parking lot, drew up at the entrance and had a minor debate with himself where he was going to take Nick. Dropping him home, where he would be on his own, and clearly sick, well… personal feelings aside, that was not the action of a man who cared about the well-being of his officers.
Having Nick in his home. Probably in his bed. Sweet torture.
Nick gave a sleepy mumble and turned towards Sean.
Sean sighed. He’d known from the moment he’d caught Nick as the younger man fell that he was going to take him back to Sean’s apartment. The Grimm was sick, Sean was… well, he needed to keep the lid on that one.
Getting into the parking lot, carrying his exhausted Grimm to the elevator, getting him upstairs and into Sean’s apartment without being seen, a cinch.
Nick roused sufficiently to walk, guided carefully by Sean, to Sean’s front door, was appreciative of what Sean was doing for him, and utterly unable to do anything for himself.
First order of business was going to be a nice hot shower to warm him up. As if Sean hadn’t realized that he was going to have to undress Nick and take him into the shower.
Peeling sodden clothing off a dozy and curiously compliant Nick was simple, getting him in the shower, holding him up and washing him without presenting the younger man with clear evidence of Sean’s real feelings towards him took every ounce of Sean Renard’s self-control. His inner wesen was practically howling as Nick slumped against Sean, resting his head on Sean’s shoulder.
Dammit.
Getting Nick out of the shower, dry and into a pair of Sean’s boxers and a clean long-sleeve tee shirt took a fair amount of self-control too. Putting him in Sean’s bed where the Captain could keep an eye on him.
More than an eye…
Sean pulled himself together firmly. He needed to focus, Nick needed fever reducers, something to drink, and some good hot food.
Soup was simple and warming, Sean had made some the night before and there was plenty left. He warmed the soup, and brought it to Nick.
Nick wasn’t quite so far out of it that he didn’t realize that Sean Renard was taking care of him. He wasn’t quite sure when he had fallen in love with his boss, and he had taken very great care not to reveal his feelings to anyone. Least of all Sean Renard.
Now Sean was taking care of him, and Nick was just going with the flow, too tired and sick to hold onto his carefully constructed shields.
For such a big guy, his boss was remarkably graceful and moved so quietly that Nick wouldn’t have heard him if the young Grimm wasn’t completely attuned to the Captain’s presence.
It felt amazing, Sean leaning in close, easing Nick upright so that he could drink the soup, Nick leaning against the much larger man, feeling the strong body against his… He closed his eyes and let himself lean a bit more against the reassuring warmth behind him.
Sean’s libido yanked so hard on his shields that the older man nearly lost it. To have Nick nestle back against Sean’s chest, rest his head on Sean’s collarbone, hear that pleased yet plaintive little sigh, as though Nick’s afraid that this is going to be taken away from him.
Dammit.
Nick is snuggled in Sean’s arms, he’s making these strange, slightly hoarse, yet pleased little noises, he’s rubbing his cheek ever so slightly against Sean’s collarbone, and Sean Renard, Bastard Prince of Portland, half-zauberbiest, Police Captain, political animal, not given to flights of romantic fantasy, is melting like a snowman in spring.
Sean can’t help it. He cuddles Nick closer, rests his cheek against the top of Nick’s head. Feels the sigh of contentment emanating from his sick detective. Hears this strange high, pure sound…
Nick had finished the soup, Sean helped him take the tablets, placing them on Nick’s tongue, held the glass of water, then eased the younger man down under the covers.
Cleared away the empty soup mug, and glass, berated himself all the way to the kitchen and back.
Placed the now full glass on the nightstand next to the bottle of Tylenol and straightened to leave.
The best intentions went straight out of the window when Nick rolled towards him, eyes shut, hand reaching out, the tiny bereft whimper went straight to Sean’s soul and nestled there.
He tried to step away. Tried to leave, to do the right thing. The right thing was to leave.
Sean stepped closer to the bed and sat down. Nick’s hand reached out and Sean took it in both of his. He didn’t have to hold the detective’s hand to feel the heat of the fever that was rolling off Nick in waves.
Gently he freed a hand and stroked Nick’s dark hair back off his forehead, “alright,” he whispered, “I’ll stay.”