Work Text:
After all the time he had spent pursuing Nick, Renard found it strange to suddenly be the focus of his attention. The change was subtle at first. Nick would come to him for reasons that had nothing to do with work or sex, reasons Renard did not always fully understand. The subject of the man Nick had killed in particular kept recurring and sometimes he had to exercise all his control to keep from snapping back. There was something he ought to be saying, but he just couldn't figure out what. Touching Nick was so much easier and although Renard kept waiting for the thrill to fade, it never happened.
In the meantime, Nick's favorite snacks and soft drinks appeared on the grocery list for his housekeeper. Ever since the woman had caught sight of the two of them leaving together in the morning, she kept smiling approvingly and muffins appeared at regular intervals. Camille didn't even complain about the way Nick's things often ended up strewn across the apartment. It was very disquieting.
When Renard got a call from a number he didn't recognize late in the night, he was instantly alert. At least it was just his police phone. With a sigh, he took the call.
“Yes?”
“It's Monroe.”
Renard could hear the apprehension in the Blutbad's voice. He forced himself to answer civilly and, in return, got a garbled tale about some Schakal youths and a stolen car. Nick was speaking in the background, voice tight with pain.
“I'm on my way.”
It took Renard some thirty minutes to throw on a jacket and drive to the deserted backroad Monroe had named. He hadn't seen any other car since the last intersection and the woods closed dark and forbidding around his headlights. A perfect place for a setup. The two heroes were standing at the side of the road, both looking rather worse for wear. As Nick climbed into the car, he threw Renard a dark glare.
“Don't ask.”
Which immediately set off Monroe.
“He got run over by his own car, that's what happened. The car he was supposed to be watching!”
Nick half turned, although the quick motion obviously hurt him.
“We talked about this! You were supposed to watch the car while I went after the Schakals!”
“Oh yeah? Because you can see three feet out in those woods?!”
“I can hear just fine, though, thank you very much!”
It was like kindergarten. Renard wisely kept his mouth shut until they had dropped off Monroe.
“Do you need a doctor?”
Color was slowly returning to Nick's face and he shook his head.
“It already stopped hurting. Just take me home, please.”
Nick's new address had been added to his file at work, so that wasn't a problem. Neither man spoke during the drive and as Renard briefly glanced over, Nick's eyes were once more opened wide, empty and unblinking. As the car stopped, however, he seemed perfectly all right.
“Do you want to come upstairs?”
It was probably for the best, Renard told himself. Those Schakals were still out there and Nick clearly wasn't up to dealing with them. Besides, who knew when he would be invited back? The apartment Nick had rented after moving out of the house he had shared with Juliette had come furnished – mostly cheap formica and chairs that didn't match. Renard stood back as Nick made his way into the bedroom, knowing better than to try and help without being asked. Bruises were blossoming down the left side of that strongly muscled torso, bad enough to make Renard hiss in sympathy.
“You need to rest. Go to sleep. If those Schakals followed us, I'll deal with them.”
Perhaps he'd deal with them even if they had turned tail and run. He went to fetch Nick a glass of water and when he returned, the latter had already closed his eyes. Renard hesitated for a moment. He very much wanted to snoop. Then, with a sigh, he draped his jacket over the back of a chair and sat down on the bed. The mattress was too soft, but when he felt Nick's weight settle against him, he didn't mind much.
“Sean?”
Looking down, Renard was surprised to find Nick awake after all.
“I've been meaning to talk to you.”
This couldn't be good.
“Yes?”
“There's another Grimm in town, a girl. When she arrived, she didn't even know what she is.”
Whatever Renard might have been dreading – that certainly hadn't been it. His head was spinning. Even half a year ago, he would have said that Nick didn't know just how much a temptation such a young woman would be to any ambitious royal. The look he was receiving now, however, had a decidedly steely quality. Renard shook his head at the unspoken question.
“I don't want her.”
A few more seconds passed, then Nick relaxed.
“I should hope not. She's only 19. Anyway, there's no need for you to get involved. I just wanted you to know in case I decided to take her along during some of our investigations.”
“Very well. I guess I don't have to tell you to keep her off the radar as much as possible.”
Nick made a small harrumphing noise and wrapped an arm around Renard's waist.
“I'd keep myself off the radar, if I could.”
As they both knew, however, it was a bit late for that.