A/N: Here comes the second chapter :) Thanks for the reviews, hope you all like the caring that now comes after hurting Nick..

Enjoy!

Monroe just climbed off of the Wildesheer he had been fighting, as he heard a really ugly noise that couldn't be healthy, no matter where it had come from.

One look around him answered his silent question as he saw yet another Wildesheer holding, or more like choking, Nick while pounding the Grimm's head against some metallic construction repeatedly.

No matter how resilient Nick was, that could be no good for his head. Good for Monroe that the guy was so into beating Nick up that he didn't notice the Blutbad coming from behind. Monroe jumped and scalped him easily, catching Nick as he fell from the now lose grip of his attacker.

"Nick? Can you hear me, man?" His Grimm was no longer looking like a walking dead, which was a progress, but out like a light.

Monroe let the two of them sink to the ground, leaning Nick against the metal thing and then crouching down next to him, his hand buried in Nick's dark hair, searching for a wound. And a wound did he find, ugly and steadily oozing blood.

"Ooh, not good, so not good," Monroe muttered and tried to decide what he should do.

First, check for other injuries, that sounded good. His now bloody hand searched Nick's body up and down for shifting bones or other blood leaking injuries, and Monroe was relieved when it was just two broken ribs - though the rest were probably cracked or at least bruised -and the cut on Nick's temple that he noticed. Sure, the ribs would hurt like a bitch and the rest of Nick's body would be covered in bruises the next day, but it was better than twenty broken bones.

Despite the injuries being rather small, one thing was for sure; he couldn't let Nick stay here, the wounds needed to be tended to.

"Do you have a fist aid kid in the trailer, buddy? Probably not, right? Okay, hospital or Rosalee?"

If they drove to the hospital, there would be trouble explaining how Nick got hurt and probably a police investigation. If they drove to Rosalee, there would be arguing, possibly, and the chance that Nick couldn't be treated properly. But then they could still drive to the hospital.

"Rosalee it is," Monroe sighed and carefully scooped the unconscious Grimm in his arms.

Somewhere in between hoisting Nick into his Beetle and calling Rosalee to give her a heads-up, Nick groaned, what caused Monroe to glance at him.

"Yeah, hold on, Rosalee, I think he's coming to," Monroe said and drove a bit more slowly. "Nick? Can you hear me, dude?"

Nick just squinted and groaned again, his eyes not even halfway open before he pressed them closed again. "Oh god, that hurts," he hissed and tried to take a deep breath, only then remembering about the rib that he thought he had felt breaking. Caught halfway between breathing in and out, Nick tried to stay as still as possible to not aggravate the broken bone any further. Except that didn't help much.

"Nick?" Monroe asked again, Rosalee in his ear completely silent, and took in the pallor of his friend's skin, the cold sweat and the dried blood in his face. Nick really didn't look too good.

"Listen, I'm taking you home, alright? Rosalee'll come over and try to patch you up, how's that sound?"

Nick just groaned again and desperately tried to find a more comfortable position without moving too much. He really didn't care what Monroe was saying, he was in pain, in a lot of pain.

"You rather wanna go to the hospital?"

Well, that rang a bell. "No, no hospital. Too much to explain," Nick rasped and dared to open his eyes again. It was almost dark by now, but the little light was enough to make his headache even worse and his stomach churning.

"Okay, I'll take you home, just.. take it easy, alright?" Monroe said and concentrated on the street again, the sooner he was home, the faster Nick would get help. "Rosalee, did you get that? Great, thanks, really. Look, I know we have a lot to talk about… yeah, later, alright."

Monroe hung up and sped up a bit more. Nick was never this silent.

"Nick, tell me what hurts, man."

"Right hand, chest, head, feel sick," Nick groaned and took a steadying breath through his nose. Throwing up with a broken rib was never fun, he knew from experience.

"You want me to pull over? Don't puke in my car, alright?" Monroe said and desperately wondered if he had a bucket somewhere, just if he wasn't fast enough. Then he noticed something else, "What's wrong with your hand?" Maybe he could distract Nick a bit from the nausea.

"Punched with it. Got the angle wrong, guess I sprained it. And I won't puke in your car, promise," Nick answered and opened his eyes again. It was better when he saw where they were driving than just feeling the movement, even though the light hurt.

Just some more turns and they would be in front of Monroe's house, thank god.

The moment Monroe parked his Beatle, he let a relieved sigh escape his lips. They had made it home without any incidents and it looked like Rosalee was already there, too.

He took his key and exited the car, making his way over to Nick's side, the Grimm wasn't really in any condition to open the door by himself.

Monroe carefully opened the door, knowing that Nick was slightly leaning against it, and then went to unbuckle his friend who grinned despite himself. "You know I'm not a baby, right? I can do stuff like that myself."

"Oh yeah? Well, then I guess I don't have to help you get out, hm? Never mind the two broken ribs you have." Monroe bantered - there was no sharpness in his words, just fondness.

Before any more words could be exchanged, the front door of Monroe's house opened and Rosalee came into view.

"Monroe? Nick?" she called and already headed towards them, it must be quite bad, when they didn't come out of the car immediately.

"Yeah, it's us. Just trying to convince Nick here that he might need a little help getting inside," Monroe answered and pointedly looked at Nick.

"Alright, alright. Maybe I could use a hand," Nick murmured and shifted his legs that they were dangling out of the car. That, however, also meant that his upper body was no longer supported by the car seat and that in turn was just plain painful. He sucked in a shallow breath and held out his good hand somewhere in the direction he knew Monroe was standing.

Monroe snorted and slowly helped Nick out of the car, trying not to hurt him any further. They somehow made it into the house and to the couch – the stairs up to Nick's room were out of discussion – where he let Nick sit, but not lay down yet.

"Nick, listen to me, okay? We need to take of that shirt, it's full of blood, and I need to take a look at those ribs. Are you still feeling nauseous?" Rosalee questioned and frowned at the grey tinge of Nick's skin, just like Monroe had done in the car.

"Yeah, okay.. yeah," Nick answered and closed his eyes, the world was spinning after the trip from the car to where he was sitting.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" Rosalee clarified and stroked her thumb over his temple, mindful of the cut, wanting to soothe him a bit.

"Dunno."

"Just tell me, if you need a bucket, alright?" She waited until Nick had nodded and then turned to Monroe. "Can you help him out of the shirt? I have basically brought the whole spice shop to the kitchen and will make something for the pain and nausea."

"Yeah, alright." Monroe nodded and turned to Nick, before he could even open his mouth to say something however, Rosalee was back and gave him a trash can. "Just for emergencies."

"Good idea." The Blutbad placed it within easy reach and then tried to coach Nick into taking off his sweater and shirt. He could tell it was hurting by the way Nick grimaced every now and then and tried to not notice the tears that were standing in the Grimm's eyes but were refused to fall.

"Ssh, it's okay, I've got you, Nick. You're okay," he knew he was telling lies but it made both of them feel better, until the shirt finally lost the battle and got off. Why did Nick always have to wear so close-fitting stuff?

Once Nick had gotten rid of the shirt, Monroe wished he still had it on. Nick's torso was covered in bruises, a lot of skin red and blue, the places around where the broken bones were dark blue, almost black.

"Oh, boy." Monroe sighed as he took in the pitiful picture of his friend in front of him.

"I heal fast," Nick said and tried to get a smile out of Monroe. It was true, at least, he really did heal a lot more quickly than the average human. That was also why he refused to go to a hospital, he knew that his injuries weren't so severe that they needed to be prodded by doctors, his body told him how badly he was hurt. "And I'd really like to lie down, my head is killing me."

"Just wait until Rosalee has her Trank down your throat, then you can rest, okay?" Monroe said and silently begged his girlfriend to do whatever she was doing faster, it was killing him to see Nick hurting. "How's that nausea?"

"Better. I don't feel like puking up my guts right now," Nick smiled and was grateful when he saw Rosalee walk back into the living room. She was carrying a glass of something in one hand, a bowl of warm water with a washcloth in the other. And somehow there was also tube of ointment pinned between her arm and body.

"Nick? I want you to drink this and then lie down, while I wash the blood off your face and take care of you ribs. You can rest, but we'll need to wake you up every hour to check up on you concussion and make you take some more medicine, alright?" Rosalee asked and handed him the glass of Trank she had made.

Nick took a sniff of it and frowned, it smelled really bitter and just disgusting.

"I know it doesn't smell, or taste, good, but try to keep it down, okay?"

Nick nodded and just thought to get it over with. Taking as deep a breath as he could, he put the glass to his lips and took a hearty gulp. It really tasted as disgusting as it smelled and it made him gag against his will. Monroe grabbed the trash can and put it in Nick's hands while taking the glass from him, wincing in sympathy for the younger man.

Nick closed his eyes and focused on breathing in and out, he had felt better before, but after the gagging, he now felt like throwing up any second.

Nick retched again but thankfully, nothing came back up. His hands were shaking by now and he felt the cold sweat on his forehead. Next, he felt the couch dip next to him and then Rosalee's hand on his back, rubbing circles.

"Monroe's getting some peppermint oil and ginger tea, you'll feel better soon, I promise," she said and Nick enjoyed her soothing tone.

"I'm right here, dude. Tea's ready in some minutes and until then you can sniff some peppermint oil, it'll help," Nick heard Monroe saying and felt his heart rate slowing down a bit.

He opened his eyes again and took one last calming breath before putting the trash can back down, but still in easy reach.

"Well, that was close."

"And not too comfortable with those ribs, I guess," Monroe said and placed the open little flask of peppermint oil on the table next to Nick's head.

"No, no it was not," Nick answered wincing and eyed the rest of the Trank suspiciously, "Do I need to drink the rest of it?"

He really really didn't want to force that stuff down his throat again – he'd rather have the tea Monroe was making.

"It'll help with the pain and the nausea, so it would be best if you drank it. Maybe smaller sips, this time," Rosalee said and gave him the glass again.

Nick somehow managed to get the drink down, even without actual gagging this time and was more than happy to be allowed to lie down afterwards.

"I'd rather have you on your side in case you get sick, but that wouldn't do your ribs any good. So, you can lie down on your back but you say something the moment you feel like you're about to throw up, alright?" Rosalee asked and waited for Nick's careful nod, before she and Monroe helped him lie down, chest lightly elevated from the pillows.

Nick was aware of Rosalee cleaning at first the wound at the back of his head and then starting on the cut and split lip, not everything was feeling warm and fuzzy and he slowly succumbed to sleep – the Trank did help, even if it was disgusting.

Monroe sighed and looked up from his oily fingers; he had been putting ointment onto Nick's ribs. The Grimm was sleeping safe and sound on his couch, the whole body black and blue, although there was no longer blood to be seen.

Rosalee had finished cleaning Nick's wounds and bandaging his hand in record time and still had looked up to find a sleeping Grimm in front of her, now Monroe sat with him and renewed the ointment from time to time.

"Hey. I guessed you could use a tea," Rosalee sat down on the other armchair and put a cup of tea on the little tale, peppermint oil still on it.

"Yeah, thanks."

How did you best address the elephant in the room?, he thought and then just ran with it.

"Rosalee, listen, about what my dad said – "

"You don't have to apologize, Monroe. They're traditional and I can understand that it was a – let's say surprise – to them that I am a Fuchsbau."

"It still gave them no permission whatsoever to say the things they did. If they can't accept you, so be it, it's their problem. I know that I love you, Rosalee, and that I will marry you, no matter what my parents think of it."

"I love you too, Monroe," Rosalee smiled back and knew that everything was alright between them, "Maybe they just need some time and then we start again."

"That would be nice," Monroe answered and glanced at one of the many clocks in their home, "Time for another concussion check."

He stood up and approached Nick, lightly shaking his friend's shoulder to wake him up.

"Nick Burkhardt, at your place, 2014, Wildesheer," Nick mumbled and closed his eyes again. "I feel fine, headache's almost gone. Now let me sleep, please?"

Monroe chuckled to himself and covered the young Grimm with a nearby blanket. "Okay, buddy, you got yourself a deal. But I'll stay downstairs, so just say something when you don't feel good."

"Alrigh'."

Monroe turned to find Rosalee grinning at him.

"What? Do you have any idea how often we've done this? I mean, this is not the first time I've had a concussed Nick on my hand," Monroe said and cringed at how that sounded. "Boy, he really can't stay out of trouble if I can't think of any new questions to ask, can he?"

"No, but he's got you to check up on him, so he'll be alright."

A/N: I'd let it end here, but of course there is always the possibility of continuing and a bit more taking care of Nick... Tell me what you think?