Archive of Our Own

Ogrely Aggressive
Part Six of the Mutually Assured… Series

Nick was nervous.

It was ridiculous, and irrational, and it kind of pissed him off because of who his nerves concerned (she didn’t deserve them), but, nevertheless, that’s how he felt. His anxiety made him skip grabbing an early dinner, so he arrived at the old storage yard before their designated meeting time, and now he was starving, too. And then there was this… itch underneath his skin, this urge to just get inside the trailer and start reading. He was pretty sure this is what addicts felt when they were jonesing for a hit.

He heard her before he saw her… and not because of his enhanced senses but because Adalind started complaining as soon as she stepped just a single, no doubt designer clad foot outside of her little sports car. “Please, if you ever do decide to kill me, don’t let it be here. I simply cannot die down by the river, and this place is even more depressing than the thought of you actually beating me.” Nick was pacing when Adalind finally approached him, somehow the dirt and grime of the place magically - and he meant that literally - staying off of her. “Where are we, anyway? And why are we here?” She didn’t allow him the opportunity to actually answer. Instead, she practically propositioned him. Again . “When you said you wanted to show me something, I thought that meant we were finally going to see each other naked.”

For someone who even jokingly (he was pretty sure she was just joking) was referencing taking her clothes off, Adalind was dressed rather conservatively. Well, for Adalind. Her heels were still ridiculously high, and he didn’t even want to contemplate just how much her entire ensemble cost, but at least her pants weren’t leather, and her sweater wasn’t sheer. And, hell, she was actually wearing some color! “ This, ” Nick gestured towards the trailer, taking a few steps towards her and turning around so that they could stand side by side, “is my family legacy. It contains everything Grimm-related that my ancestors have collected over the centuries.”

“To the victor goes the spoils, huh? You Grimms need to find yourselves a better gig.” Despite her ridicule, Adalind rushed towards the metal door. When she found it locked, she started to hop slightly on her toes - suddenly uncaring that she was standing in a scummy mud puddle, impatiently demanding, “well, don’t just stand there. Beeil dich, Burkhardt!”

But he didn’t move. Not a single muscle. Well, besides his eyes. Because Adalind’s shirt was almost completely backless. Which meant that she wasn’t wearing - couldn’t wear - a bra. And her breasts were free. And she was bouncing . And now that he looked closely, he realized that the weave of her sweater wasn’t very tight, so, if he really focused his gaze and looked closely, would he be able to see her….

“Nick,” Adalind sang out his name, snapping him harshly back to reality. For a moment, he worried that she had caught him staring, that she had realized what had snagged his attention so thoroughly. But she seemed completely oblivious. “It’s cold out here.”

Jesus. Christ.

Nick had to clench his jaw so hard that it made not just his teeth hurt, but dual spikes of pain shot up to his temples. And the worst part was that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing to him. On autopilot, Nick stepped forward. He lifted his hands - the right holding his keys, while the left wrapped around the doorknob, and he was so close to her that he could taste her scent in the air. It was dark, and rich, and spicy, and heady, and Nick had never been more attracted to Adalind than he was in that moment, and she wasn’t even trying to seduce him.

They had been working together for two months, and she had taken every single opportunity during that time to flirt, and tease, and beguile, and tempt him, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t been successful, because Nick had been far more intrigued than his conscience wanted to admit. But it was now - when she wasn’t smiling at him coquettishly or inviting him into her bed - that he wanted her enough, that he wanted her so much, that he couldn’t… focus on anything else, and goddamn it, he was in trouble.

Adalind and all of her pale, smooth, velvet skin went first, Nick hopping up into the trailer seconds after her. As she started to roam the small space - running just the tips of her fingers across the spines of his books, spinning the potions around and around, contemplating the weapon’s cabinet but not opening it, Nick silently reined himself back in. What he was feeling was just lust. Physically, Adalind was a very attractive woman. But that was it. That’s where his appreciation of her ended. Yes, she was intelligent, and yes she could even be funny, and Nick had to admit that he admired her fortitude, her confidence, and even her moxy sometimes, but he didn’t actually like her, and as long as he remembered that fact, he’d be fine. They ’d be fine.

“So, is this some kind of initiation to the team - I can’t believe Monroe didn’t tell me about this place!, or are we here for a particular reason tonight?”

“Both,” Nick answered her, the question bringing him back to the immediacy of the moment and finally away from… everything else he had been thinking about. And feeling . “But Monroe’s never been here. You’re the first person I’ve shown all of this to, actually.”

Naturally , Adalind had been standing by the small sofa, looking at but not touching the various drawings and notes on the walls when he said this. Flashing him a stunning, sunny smile over her near shoulder, she leered, “you mean, I popped the trailer’s cherry?”

That remark was far too close to his own earlier thoughts, but Nick kept his face bland when he tilted his head to the side and simply said for what must have been at least the hundredth time, “we’re not having sex here, Adalind.”

“No, you’re right.” Her capitulation was too easy, and her next words confirmed it. “I don’t think it’s sturdy enough for what I have in mind. Plus, you know,” she glanced around objectively, “it’s a little cramped.” God, she made sex with her sound like a freaking olympic event. And, hell, maybe it was . Nick knew how explosive the two of them were when they were just talking ; what the hell would happen if they actually got physical with one another?

“So, anyway,” he took a deep, mentally cleansing breath. “Now, you know where the trailer is. Take a look around. Familiarize yourself with it. I might need you to come out here and get something for me someday, and it’ll be better if you know where everything is without me having to tell you. It’s not exactly like this stuff is easy to describe with an audience listening in on everything I say.” She was already opening drawers before Nick had finished his first invitation to do so. He found her enthusiasm and curiosity… appealing, which wasn’t helpful at that moment. “While you explore, I need to do some digging.”

“Oh, new case,” Adalind asked distractedly.

“Yeah, I think so,” he murmured, already opening the books. “I mean, there’s definitely a case. But I think it also might be a Grimm thing, too.”

She was genuinely interested when she asked, “oh really, why’s that?”

“It was something I saw in the guy’s file. It was like the doctors were trying too hard to explain the unexplainable… or, if what I suspect is correct, the Wesen.” Flipping through the pages he had already read many times before, so he kind of had an idea what he was looking for, Nick recalled Stark’s conditions from memory. “He has both congenital analgesia and abnormally dense bones. When I read that out loud to Hank and the Captain….”

“What did you just say,” Adalind brusquely interrupted him. 

Not picking up on her tone at first, Nick denied, “and, no, that does not make me Tennille.”

“Right now is so not the time for your outdated references, Nick!”

Rolling his eyes, he defended, “you’re the one who doesn’t even own a TV.”

“I don’t, because I stream everything instead, but I mainly said that to antagonize Hap, which, now that he’s dead, seems really awful, I know, but, at the time, it seemed harmless. And of course I watch television! I’m not a complete snob.” Adalind took only a second to reconsider her statement. “Okay, no, I am a complete snob, but, still, there are such things as guilty pleasures, and, god,” lifting her arms above her head - and, jesus, did her sweater have to lift so high as well? - so as to hastily and desperately gather her hair into a bun, Adalind raised her voice, “ none of this matters right now, because you are dealing with a Siegbarste, Nick! He is going to slaughter you.”

Laughing uncomfortably, he complained, “thanks for the vote of confidence, partner .”

“It’s nothing personal,” she huffed. “Your normal tactics and weapons just won’t impact this guy enough to kill him. And, Nick, you have to kill a Siegbarste, because they hold grudges, and they’ll never stop coming for you until either you’re dead or you manage to take him out.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know,” Nick mumbled more to himself than to Adalind.

Whether she heard him or not - and she probably did, because she was Adalind, she went and did just that: she told him something he hadn’t already figured out for himself about Siegbarstes. “You’re going to need a Siegbarste Gewehr… an elephant gun, and you’re going to need bullets coated in Siegbarste Gift.” By this point, she was pacing back and forth across the limited floorspace of the trailer, which pretty much meant she took two steps in either direction before having to turn around and start a new lap. Nick was kind of impressed that she wasn’t dizzy. “But they’re so rare! I have no idea where we’ll be able to get our hands on either of them in time, and it’s not like I can just whip up a batch of Siegbarste Gift whenever the mood strikes me. And he knows that. He knows that, and he knows that there’s a Siegbarste after you, and he did nothing to warn either of us or prepare you, and I…”

“ … need to calm down,” Nick cut her off, finishing her sentence in a way that surely she wouldn’t have. “Seriously, you were giving me a panic attack, and I know for a fact that I already have both the gun and the poison we’re going to need.”

“Wait, what,” Adalind stopped her edgy, agitated movements, pivoted around, and leveled him with a startled stare.

“The Gift is over there on that lazy susan beside the Spirit Oleander, and there’s a really big rifle in the weapons cabinet.

Short and quick, Adalind barked out, “grab them, and then let’s go.”

If she thought he was a Grimm who was going to ask how high when she said jump, the Hexenbiest had another thing coming. “Except I have no idea where the Siegbarste is right now, and I’ve been up for more than 36 hours straight, so there will be no hunting ogres tonight. I’m going home, and I’m going to eat something, and then I’m going to sleep for at least six hours. Then and only then will I go after this guy. I’ll come back in the morning and pick everything up.”

“Why not just take it with you now?”

“Because I don’t like to take my Grimm stuff to the house,” Nick explained, though he could tell by Adalind’s expression that the revelation confounded her. “Separation of church and state, you know?”

“That is the stupidest thing you have ever said,” she snapped at him, glaring. “Siegbarstes will not recognize your philosophical and jurisprudential ideals, Nick! Besides, you share that home with your girlfriend.” It was only when Adalind reminded him of her that Nick actually thought about Juliette for the first time that evening. He was doomed. And a horrible boyfriend. “A very frail, Kehrseite girlfriend.”

But it was exactly that reason why Nick didn’t want Juliette to ever have a chance to see any of his Grimm paraphernalia… not because of her frailty but because she was human, and he knew that she would never be able to truly understand… any of his new reality. She wouldn’t understand what it meant to be a Grimm, what it meant to him. She wouldn’t understand Monroe, or Adalind, or any of the other Wesen he had met so far but who hadn’t made such a monumental impact on his life as the Blutbad and Hexenbiest had. She couldn’t understand, and he… kind of didn’t want her to.

But Nick didn’t say any of that to Adalind. Rather, he told her, “look, I didn’t originally work the Siegbarste’s case, so he’s not after me; I’m not his target. It’s just a coincidence that Hank was the investigating detective and arresting officer, and now, five years later, Hank’s new partner just so happens to be a Grimm.”

Despite his reassurances, Nick did stand up and gather his things to leave. Adalind wouldn’t be able to focus on learning the trailer that night. She was too wound up. Though her concern for his safety was a nice change, he, on the other hand, was too exhausted to really delve into her reaction. Besides, he’d just get a key to the Airstream made for her, and then she could come out to the storage yard and explore whenever she wanted. Separately. And alone.

As he ushered Adalind out of the trailer - allowing her to go first, because, if he was already damned, he might as well enjoy it, Nick guaranteed her, “but nothing is going to happen to me, Adalind.”

Famous last words, though, right?

----------

He was dreaming. And then he wasn’t.

A hand - soft, and delicate, and so alive and warm - slipped into his, and he was immediately pulled out of his nightmare. But it wasn’t jarring. The disjointed flashes of the Siegbarste attacking him, slowly killing him, were replaced with… peace. Just peace. And although Nick was grateful for the reprieve, he simply couldn’t face Juliette again. Not yet. Talking with her once about the fight in their home had been bad enough, and they had barely scratched the surface of what needed to be said.

He tried to apologize to her - for lying to protect her, for not being better at protecting her, for bringing his work home with him even if unintentionally, and for still sharing a home with her in the first place when everyone who knew the truth about who he was had been telling him for months that it was a bad idea. Nick even resented her a little bit, too, because, in trying to protect her from the part of him that was a Grimm, he had left himself vulnerable as well.

So, as cowardly as it was, and as much as Juliette deserved more from him, Nick pretended that he was still asleep. It wasn’t that hard to do between his injuries, the pain medication he was on, and the exhaustion he had felt even before a literal ogre tried to bludgeon him with his own house. If he had been tired before the fight, he was practically catatonic after it, making it easy for Nick to just keep his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even… or as deep and even as breathing could be with bruised ribs, and his body still.

“Oh god, Nick.”

Wait, that wasn’t…. “Adalind,” Nick gasped, snapping his gaze wide in surprise and astonishment when he recognized her voice and realized who was actually holding his hand. He had so many questions. What was she doing there? How did she know he’d been injured and was in the hospital? Had anybody witnessed her come into his room? Did he even care if someone did see her visiting him? But what he said was, “I should have taken the gun.”

She laughed… as he had intended, but it had a watery quality to it that was unfamiliar. “Now that you mention it,” Adalind started, tilting her head to the side and scowling at him pointedly. There was no heat in the gesture, however. “I think I do recall this rather intelligent - some might even say genius , smoking hot blonde giving you that very advice.”

“Rumor is she’s modest, too.”

“She sounds like quite the catch,” Adalind complimented, rubbing one of her thumbs along the top of his hand. “You should tap that.”

Nick grinned, then chuckled. It hurt, but the mirth was worth it. Deciding that he’d play along with her - after all, why the hell not? He could just blame it on the drugs afterwards or even just claim that he didn’t remember; multiple head wounds could be such a bitch - and wanting to keep the mood light - she’d been serious when she arrived, and, despite all of his claims to the contrary, Nick found that he actually preferred it when Adalind was playful and happy, he caught her off guard by saying, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Wait, did you just…? Oh, Nick,” she sighed, pouted. “That’s not fair. You can’t finally return the flirt when you’re too injured for me to do anything with it.”

“I’m bruised, Adalind, not broken.”

“Yes, but the only way you’re having sex right now is if it’s tender, and, if it’s tender, why even bother?”

Nick was so caught off guard by her response - because she was completely serious; Adalind wasn’t being facetious, or risque, or any of the other tactics she employed to give herself emotional distance - that it took him a moment to react. As odd as it was, that single statement told him more about her past relationships than all of the other conversations they’d had combined. Adalind certainly wasn’t an open book… about anything, but even the most inept and unobservant oaf would have been able to piece a few things about her together after all of her innuendos and come-ons.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he finally broke the somewhat awkward silence which had fallen over them. Why was it that it was so much easier to apologize to Adalind than it had been to say those same words to Juliette, the woman he had been planning on proposing to just a few months before? “The next time you give me advice about a Wesen, I’ll take it seriously.”

She shot him a side eye and grudgingly said, “apology accepted. But don’t do it again!”

“What, not listen to you?”

“Well, that, too, obviously,” Adalind acknowledged, dismissively waving the hand that wasn’t still holding his. “But I was talking about scaring me.” Before he could wrap his head around her confession… let alone appreciate it or tease her, the Hexenbiest was adding the caveat, “after all of the time, effort, and shoes I’ve invested in you, to make me think that it was all for nothing and that I’d backed the wrong horse? That was just cruel, Nick, and I’m supposed to be the evil one in this partnership.”

Did she just imply that…? Was he…? Was Adalind going to tell him the other man she was working with, the one who was coming after him?

Without thought to his injuries, Nick sat up in anticipation, in excitement, in impatience, and eagerness, and even a little bit of dread. His ribs screamed at him, his shoulder burned, and his head swam, but every last ounce of discomfort and agony would be worth it if he finally learned who was so desperate to control his Grimm powers that they had sent Adalind to kill his Aunt Marie so as to better and easier isolate and influence him.

“And here I thought the two of you were getting along better recently,” Monroe greeted boisterously, walking into the room and interrupting. Nick could visibly see Adalind repressing whatever she was about to tell him, whether intentional or spontaneous, and he slowly laid back down. “Your vibe had been less angry sex and more, well, just sex. But, hey, I guess this is one way for you to get him into bed!”

“Adalind didn’t do this, Monroe.”

“And I’m insulted that you would think so little of me,” she complained, bristling. “My attack style is far more precise. And lethal.”

Nick rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “It was a Siegbarste.”

“Really?!” The Blutbad’s eyes went wide, and his voice rose an octave. “That’s so coo… awful. That’s really awful, man. For you and your,” he waved in Nick’s general direction, “bones.” Sounding more like a little kid than an adult, he practically gushed, “ but a Siegbarste? Wow .”

“How did you even know I was here?”

“Dude,” Monroe reeled back, widening his eyes. “Detective gets pulverized by an escaped convict in his own home? That story is like catnip for the local news. It’s everywhere, and I figured the chances were pretty good that the detective in question was probably you.”

Well, Nick guessed that also explained Adalind’s presence by his bedside. He had been debating the best way to get the Siegbarste Gewehr from his trailer - either check himself out of the hospital AMA and hope the Grimm abilities extended to driving with a concussion or calling either Monroe or Adalind to go and pick it up for him - when he’d nodded off, the abuse his body had taken catching up with him… and perhaps the drugs he was on, too. In the sense that they were both at the hospital now, so he could ask them for their help, maybe he should have been grateful to the news stories about him, but, really, Nick was rather irritated with the press coverage, particularly their description, embellished by Monroe or not, of his condition.

“Man, good luck with this case, but count me out! Siegbarstes are notoriously hard to kill. I mean, unless you have a Siegbarste Gewehr…”

“He does,” Adalind interrupted at the same time that Nick practically boasted, “I do.”

“Yeah, well, fine. But what are the chances that you also have some - and trust me, the irony of this poison’s name is not lost on me - Siegbarste Gift?”

“Got that, too,” Nick told him smugly.

Monroe’s jaw dropped open, and that was before Adalind added for good measure, “everything’s back at the trailer.”

“What trailer,” the Blutbad queried. He sounded both intrigued and wary… which could pretty much describe most if not all of their interactions since meeting. Well, besides that time when Nick accused him of abducting a little girl, but who was keeping track?

Monroe was. Monroe was definitely keeping track.

“Adalind will show you,” he told his friend. To Adalind herself, he nodded across the room where what was left of his stained and sliced clothes were folded and stacked on a chair. “The keys are over there.” It was only once she stepped away from his hospital bed that he realized she had never once let go of his hand. “Once you have everything, bring it back here. If I know Hank, he’s going to use my getting hurt as an excuse to position himself as bait. I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of here or find Hank in time, but I’ll worry about that after we have the gun.”

Rejoining them, Adalind groused, “Hank should have thought of that before you were attacked as a means to get to him.”

“That’s… friendly,” Monroe snarked, reminding them all of Adalind’s task in regards to the Kehrseite detective. But if that was still her assignment from her other partner, she was obviously ignoring it… at least for now. “And I still want to know what exactly this trailer is.”

“Basically, it’s a Grimm archive - hundreds of years of texts, potions, and weapons - all locked away in an Airstream,” Adalind informed Monroe.

“So, basically, it’s a cool, secret clubhouse,” Monroe interpreted in a way that only Monroe could. Turning what passed as a pout for the Blutbad onto Nick, he complained, “and you showed it to a Hexenbiest before me?!” If they were kids as the use of the word ‘clubhouse’ should have implied, then ‘a Hexenbiest’ would have been replaced with ‘a girl.’

Nick just smirked, though. “Now you finally know how I feel.”

---------

“We have a problem,” Adalind announced, marching into his hospital room with Monroe on her heels. Despite her words, there was a dazzling smile stretching wide across her face. She was always bright - both in intellect and in appearance with her blonde hair and pale skin, but, in that moment, Adalind practically glowed. Nick would have excused it as a side effect of his concussion, but it wasn’t painful; it was a joy to see. “This one,” Adalind gestured over her shoulder with her thumb in the sheepish Blutbad’s direction, “this one a little ogrely aggressive ,” that pun earned her some well deserved eye rolls, “with your Grimm toys.”

“A Siegbarste Gewehr is not a toy!”

“It is when you handle it,” Adalind quipped back, grinning under Monroe’s harsh glare and Nick’s bark of unadulterated laughter. Before she continued, she handed Nick back his keys, which he just shoved underneath the scratchy hospital sheets. “When I handle it, however,” she continued conceitedly, “it’s a weapon.”

“ You killed the Siegbarste,” Nick requested clarification. Although, really, her appearance said it all. There was some kind of plant - either a fern or a tall grass - dangling from her hair, she had grass stains on her pants, her formerly white sweater was smeared with mud, and she was favoring her right shoulder. She hadn’t just gotten her hands dirty; it looked like she had literally rolled around in the muck.

“Butter fingers kept dropping the bullets,” Adalind started to explain, but she was quickly cut off by a justifying Monroe.

“It was raining out and a pretty momentous occasion!”

Nick frowned. “You mean a dangerous situation? For Hank? Because there was an actual ogre trying to kill him?” Despite chastising his friend for his seeming lack of concern for the Kehrseite cop, Nick had to silently admit that he was a little irked with Hank himself.

“Speaking of which,” Adalind picked the tale back up. “While someone was experiencing first time jitters - seriously, we’re talking virgin with an elephant gun in his hands,” Monroe grumbled but didn’t actually interrupt, “Hank was getting well acquainted with the Siegbarste’s fists, foot, and Ford.”

Alarmed, Nick yelled out, “he ran him over?”

Oh so helpfully , Monroe corrected, “actually, it was a Chevy.”

“But that didn’t work with my alliteration. Plus, Ford or Chevy? Who cares? My point was that the Siegbarste used a truck in the fight while you were playing 52 pick up with the Gift coated bullets.”

“Is? Hank? Okay?” Any patience Nick might have had for their little ‘Two Wesen Comedy Routine’ had long since evaporated.

“No thanks to Monroe,” it was Adalind who answered him, “but yes. Right around the point when the Siegbarste picked up a boulder …”

“It was really just a big rock,” Monroe disputed.

“ … which is the definition of a boulder ,” the Hexenbiest challenged, whipping her head to the right to glare at their friend. In doing so, she at least knocked the wilting plant matter from her hair. “ Anyway , that’s when I stepped in, took charge, took the gun, and blasted that hideous, dermatologically challenged monster with an underbite straight into Potter’s Field, because nobody’s going to want to claim his sorry ass for proper burial!”

Monroe snarked, “and you say I’m the aggressive one?!”

Adalind folded her hands together in front of her and fluttered her lashes down as she demurely cooed, “I simply did what needed to be done. Any Hexenbiest would have done the same.”

Except… Nick was pretty sure they wouldn’t have - at least, not to defend and protect him, a Grimm. Seriously, Nick told her, “thank you.” It stung a little bit, however, to say those words - not because, shockingly, he was saying them to Adalind, but because, thanks to Hank’s stubborn pride, Nick had been forced to put his friends in a dangerous situation. If Hank had simply followed the department’s plan, then Nick would have had enough time to collect the gun from Monroe and Adalind, sneak out of the hospital, and kill Stark for himself. Instead, Hank had insisted on playing the hero and going it alone, forcing Nick to send a Blutbad and a Hexenbiest to do a Grimm’s job. To do his duty. It didn’t matter that, in their own reluctant ways, Monroe and Adalind had become his Wesen partners; the onus of dispatching the Siegbarste should have fallen on Nick.

“You can thank me by rationing Monroe’s access to the Grimm trailer.” Circling them back to her original point, Adalind teased, “you should have seen his face when I opened up that weapons cabinet! He looked just like a young Hexenbiest on the day she receives her first witch’s hat. Spoiler alert: that’s pretty damn eager.”

“Oh, come on! I wasn’t that excited!”

“Wait,” Nick wanted to rewind the conversation. His brain was still snagged on something Adalind had said in passing. “You mean witch hats are a thing?”

“Well, yeah,” she told him like it was obvious. “But we don’t actually wear them. They’re for making Zaubertranks.”

“I mean, I’m a horologist!”

Adalind held up her hands in feigned innocence. “You said it, not me.”

Ignoring her… well, at least verbally; the Blutbad still sent a scowl in her direction, Monroe pressed forth, “that means I like taking things apart and putting them back together again. I like figuring out how things work. Clocks or a Grimm’s rare and antique arsenal, they’re still intricate and interesting machines.”

“Most of Nick’s weapons are big sticks ,” at that, Adalind flashed him a coy wink, “super sharp and shiny blades, or big sticks with super sharp and…” Monroe sniffing the air cut her off. “Uh, don’t tell me you’re getting emotional ?”

“Hank’s here,” Monroe announced.

Before Nick could react - express his sincere gratitude to his friends again or even say goodbye - or ready himself for Hank’s appearance, Monroe and Adalind were gone, and his investigative partner was strolling into Nick’s hospital room, Hank’s gaze caught by something over his shoulder. The Kehrseite looked about as bad as Nick looked and felt, though he would have the benefit of his Grimm abilities to speed along the healing process. Even seeing for himself how badly Hank had been hurt before Adalind had the chance to take out the Siegbarste wasn’t enough to completely eradicate his annoyance with his friend and coworker. It did help, though.

“I could have sworn I saw…,” Hank’s words trailed off, words that were said more to himself, but Nick heard them clearly anyway. Monroe and Adalind must have managed to slip away just in time, Hank catching a fleeting enough glance of them to doubt his own eyes. “Nevermind,” he visibly shook off the confusion. “My mind’s playing tricks on me. Must be the head injuries.”

“Or exhaustion,” Nick volunteered helpfully. Smirking, he continued, “then again, it also might just be your age.”

“Old man jokes when you’re the one in the hospital bed, while I’m the conquering hero?”

Nick had to swallow down his frustration and resentment towards Hank’s boast. “You got Stark, then?”

As Hank launched into his less than insightful account - after all, he had already heard the story, and it had been told by the two people actually responsible for ending the Siegbarste’s revenge tour through Portland, Nick allowed himself to zone out of the conversation. If his partner noticed, he’d just say it was the medication making him drowsy, but Nick really wasn’t worried about that. He’d been a Grimm for all of three months, and it hadn’t taken him long to realize that most of the world saw what they wanted to see - himself included just a short time ago. It wasn’t that he expected Hank to somehow look beyond his Kehrseite capabilities, but for a man who was supposed to be a detective, Hank missed a hell of a lot of clues about Nick himself: lies that really weren’t good enough, hasty coverstories, and details that couldn’t be explained.

Speaking of the unexplainable, despite the fact that he should have been sleeping and the fact that he already had company in the form of his friend, Nick found that, as he laid there in his hospital bed with Hank standing beside him, reciting the play-by-play of his standoff with the Siegbarste, he missed Monroe and Adalind. He found himself wondering what they were doing. Were they just going straight home, or were they too hopped up on adrenaline, so they were going to hit a 24 hour diner for greasy food, decaf coffee, and brownies a la mode? Had they exhausted everything there was to say about their latest case and moved on to other Wesen topics, or was Adalind still taunting Monroe about his… performance anxiety? And perhaps most importantly: who drove when they went out to the trailer, when they followed Hank? Because if Monroe was slightly miffed that Adalind got to see the Airstream first, then Nick was going to be downright pissed if Monroe rode in Adalind’s Audi before he did. That car was gorgeous - too pretty, in fact, for Nick to resent the Hexenbiest and her wealth.

What he could resent, however, was that he was starting to see that she and Monroe had been right all along: maybe it wasn’t a good idea for him to date a Kehrseite. Nick loved Juliette. He truly did. But was he holding onto their relationship out of stubbornness, because he didn’t want to give up anything from his former non-Grimm life even as he fully embraced everything new his Wesen knowledge and abilities were giving him? He had changed so much since that fateful morning when he saw Adalind woge for the first time. In needing to keep Juliette safe and protected from the Wesen world and his Grimm nature - a safety the Siegbarste had shattered just as easily as he had shattered glass, revealing it to be more of an empty gesture than an actual possibility, Nick hadn’t allowed her to witness those changes. He had realized that evening, as he continued to get to know his new self through his relationships with Monroe and Adalind, that he was becoming a stranger to the girlfriend he insisted upon keeping, to the woman he claimed he was still going to propose to, to the Kehrseite he loved but couldn’t allow to love him… at least, not completely.

Even with his realizations keeping him awake long after Hank left, Nick continued to wrestle with his thoughts, trying to somehow get his mind, his conscience, and his heart to align, because, until he could do just that, he wouldn’t know how to move forward with either of his lives or how to meld them into one, and he was starting to realize that that - the man and the Grimm in harmony - was something he really wanted. And probably needed.