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Nick had never been to a Christmas market, at least not as a patron. He’d been to one once after a murder had happened. So, when Monroe had told him about how they were so ingrained in German culture and invited him along, he’d jumped at the chance to go with him. The sheer number of vendors and offering had been overwhelming but the joy on Monroe’s face had made it worth his time. Also, he’d managed to sneak off and get Monroe a Christmas present while Monroe was off haggling over something. Hiding it in their home had been a bit harder but there were a few nooks and crannies Christmas hadn’t been sprinkled all over.
Truthfully, Nick liked holidays well enough but he wasn’t one to go overboard. The same could not be said for Monroe. He jammed holiday decorations in every corner – some of which he had carved himself. There were three trees of varying sizes and the light show outside was going to suck up most of this month’s paycheck. Nick sat back and let Monroe merry his heart out.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen doorframe.
“You could get the potato salad out of the fridge and let it come up to room temperature,” Monroe said over his shoulder, fussing with a pot of something on the stove.
Nick did that and, after a while of setting the table and finding the Patrick Stewart version of The Christmas Carol for later, he popped back into the kitchen. Monroe was frying the sausages for dinner. He’d made them himself. Nick had watched the alchemy of mixing the beef and pork with mustard powder, cardamom, mace, coriander, caraway seeds, ginger, and marjoram, all bought from that Christmas market. He’d never had homemade sausage before. The smell was divine.
Nick slipped an arm around Monroe’s waist and rested his chin on Monroe’s shoulder. “That smells delicious but I’ve never had potato salad and sausage for Christmas eve dinner.”
“It’s a tradition in Germany. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“And afterward, there’ll be gifts and some lebkuchen, and I have to introduce you to Feuerzangenbowle.” Monroe nodded to the pot on the stove. “Can you get the candles?”
“Sure.”
Nick strolled to the living room table where a small tree sat on one end and the other held the advent wreath. It felt surreal lighting the candles for the last time. He’d felt the same in the morning, opening the last of his advent calendar of coffee Monroe had give him as part of his Christmas gift. By the time he was done, Monroe had the platter of sausages on the table with the potato salad.
Nick sat down eagerly, slicing off a bit of sausage. He made a delighted sound. “Tastes even better than it smelled, which is saying something.”
Monroe beamed. “Glad you liked it.”
“It’s delicious. If you ever get tired of clocks, you could open a boutique meat shop.”
Monroe’s smile grew. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
He and Monroe ate the meal like wolves, no pun intended. He helped put dishes in the dishwasher while Monroe fetched two punch glasses and a metal bowl with a metal grate that fit over it. He poured the contents of the pot on the stove into the bowl. Nick watched the red waterfall take star anise, oranges, cinnamon sticks, and cloves with it.
Monroe pointed to a container with Santas on it. “Can you bring that and the glasses?”
“Sure.”
Puzzled, Nick followed Monroe into the living room. Monroe sat the bowl of mulled wine onto the glass-topped coffee table before going to the liquor cabinet to get rum. His bafflement deepening, Nick sat on the couch next to his lover. He surrendered the Santa container. Inside was a small loaf of sugar smelling strongly of rum.
“I am confused,” he confessed.
“You’ll see.” Putting the sugar loaf on the metal grate over the bowl of mulled wine, Monroe set it on fire.
“Okay, this is getting interesting.”
“Just wait.”
As the fire began to die, Monroe hit it with more rum, making it flame up and the sugar melt into the wine faster.
“So, my Christmas gift is meeting hot firemen.” Nick smirked.
“That would be the worse way for this holiday to go but no worries. I know what I’m doing.”
And so he did. Monroe managed to melt all of the sugar into the drink. Afterward, he ladled it into the punch glasses. He clicked his to Nick’s. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” Nick took a drink, his eyes opening wide. “Wow, that is some strong….what did you call this again?”
“Feuerzangenbowle.”
“It’s good.”
“Glad you liked it.”
Monroe settled against him as they drank the rum-wine punch. After the first glass, Monroe got up and fetched the lebkuchen and a stollen for them to have as dessert. He also brought back a wrapped box. Anticipating that, Nick had fetched the one he’d wrapped for Monroe. Granted it looked like he’d done it blindfolded and with two fingers. Meanwhile, Monroe’s looked fit for a magazine lay out.
“You first,” Nick said.
Grinning mischievously, Monroe ripped into it like a kid on too much sugar. His eyes widened as he saw the Icelandic wool sweater in a rich blue and He lifted it up, holding it against him. “It’s gorgeous, Nick. I love it!”
“It’s going to look so good on you.”
“I’ll wear it out on our next date,” Monroe promised. He carefully folded the sweater back into the box. He scooped up his gift to Nick and handed it to him with a huge, excited smile.
Nick opened it as carefully as if it were an evidence bag. Inside was a black coffee cup filled with chocolates he knew came from the Christmas market. A wooden box was under that. He hoisted the mug, seeing two men one in red and the other green were on this. “Oh, I know this. It’s from the Don’t Walk signs in Germany.”
Monroe bobbed his head. “The Ampelmännchen. They’ve become something of a mascot at this point.”
“They’re fun. Thanks. This is going to the office.” Nick set the mug aside and lifted the wooden box out of the bottom of the gift box. He opened it and widened his eyes. He lifted the book out of the case. Flipping it open, he saw it was a handwritten journal. “Is this from another Grimm?”
Monroe shrugged one shoulder. “I almost didn’t want to give it to you for the holiday. It seemed a bit grim, no pun intended. But there were a few things in there – according to my source – that isn’t in your book, and I want you to have all the information you can to stay safe out there.”
“It is a wonderful gift.” Nick leaned in, stealing a kiss.
“I have one more thing for you to unwrap,” Monroe whispered, his breath curling around the shell of Nick’s ear.
“Is it you?” Nick grinned.
“Oh, absolutely.” Monroe nipped Nick’s chin. “But maybe a little more Feuerzangenbowle first, let the food settle….and now I sound like I’m a hundred years old.”
“I’m not going anywhere. A little more drink sounds great.”
Monroe poured for them. “It might be a quiet little Christmas.”
“There are worse ways my Christmas could’ve ended, believe me.” Nick laughed. “Like getting called out to a homicide. The holidays seem to spike them.”
“I know.” Monroe traced a pattern on Nick’s arm. “Or one of my Wesen brethren could have become a problem. No, I’ll take quiet.”
“At least until we make some noise of our own.”
Monroe eyed him hungrily. “It’ll be a different type of Christmas carol.”
“And I’m in the mood to sing.”
Nick leaned in for more kisses. It was not going to be a silent night.