This was written for another lovely prompt over on Dreamwidth! Hope you guys like it! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except for the troll...but I'm not sure I really want it O.o

Couch

The first time is happens, the only thing that keeps Monroe from well and truly freaking out is that fact that he's pretty sure it's an accident. Nick had shown up earlier that evening with some Grimm-related case tucked under his arm and was there to ask for his assistance. Monroe vaguely considers telling him to go find someone else to bother with his fairytale crime scenes but he knows that a) no one will believe Nick if he tells them what he's working on and b) Monroe is really the only supernatural being that Nick has come in contact with that hasn't tried to eat, kill, or otherwise permanently maim him in the past few weeks so their…friendship or whatever this was had grown a bit more in retrospect. Monroe doesn't know what they are, some people would say friends, and others would say acquaintances. He tends to refer to Nick as a lost puppy in the back of his mind because the younger man really is in way over his head and doesn't know his ass from Adam at this point in time. His aunt hadn't given him nearly the heads up he deserved.

So here they are, sitting across from each other on the couch because the kitchen table is covered in the internal organs of a clock Monroe had been putting together when Nick arrived. He looks over the notes Nick's written and makes a few mental ones of his own before coming to the conclusion that they're looking for a troll. All the victims disappeared around bridges, all of them looked like they had been bludgeoned to death with something heavy and solid, all signs indicate troll. He refrains from telling Nick this for a while because he's known the man long enough to know the first thing he'll do in the morning is go searching under every bridge in Portland to find the creature responsible. He's also known Nick long enough to know the detective will get squashed into Grimm-flavored jelly before he even gets close to reasoning with a troll.

Somehow, the conversation drifts away from the troll file to other cases Nick has been working on. Monroe is silently glad for this because he actually does have a deadline to keep and he doesn't have time to go troll hunting with Nick at this moment. There's a couple of other cases that pop up as they talk, domestic more than anything, and Monroe listens quietly as Nick rambles on. He quietly wonders why Nick is telling him all of this because there should be a line of police/victim confidentiality that Nick shouldn't cross but he doesn't say anything. Nick talks to him like he's a friend and Monroe has to admit it's kind of nice.

Eventually their conversation dies off and both of them sit in relative silence for a bit. They watch the basketball game on the TV but neither of them are really keeping score. Monroe can feel his eyes beginning to slide shut against his will but he doesn't really have the energy to force himself to get off the couch and go to bed. Besides, Nick is still there and he knows from experience how hard it is to get rid of him by now. Finally, he loses the battle of wills and closes his eyes, his head falling against the arm of the couch.

He wakes up to something warm and heavy draped across his legs and it takes him a second to remember where he is. The TV is still on but the game has long since ended and it's now stuck on an infomercial about a steam mop. The clock reads 2:37 and Monroe can already feel the crick in his neck as he struggles to sit up. Something stops him though, that warm, solid weight across his legs, and he looks down to see Nick literally draped over him.

The detective's face is resting against his knee and one arm is slung across Monroe's legs like he's reaching for something. Nick is laying on him. It's a pure knee-jerk reaction that causes Monroe to jump up and effectively dislodge the Grimm from his lap, spilling him in a startled heap onto the floor below. Nick is instantly alert, blinking quickly and trying to gauge where he in while simultaneously scanning the room for a threat. When he sees none, he looks up at Monroe who's still juggling between being completely freaked out and apologetic at the same time.

Nick saves him the trouble though and smiles sheepishly, apologizing in that innocent, child-like way that always makes Monroe want to clench his jaw until his teeth crack. Nick really is too nice for his own good and its going to get him into trouble one day. For God's sake, Monroe just threw him off the couch and Nick is apologizing for it!

Nick stands slowly, wincing just a bit and rubbing his hip from where he hit the floor. It's probably going to bruise and Monroe fights back the wave of guilt that accompanies that realization. Nick chances a glance at the clock and frowns when he sees the time. He has to be at work in a little less than five hours and Monroe still has an entire order to fill by tomorrow afternoon. Nick apologizes again and walks toward the door, grabbing his jacket and the troll file before he leaves. He thanks Monroe for his input and leaves quietly, the door clicking closed behind him.

Monroe stands motionless for several second, staring at the closed door Nick had just departed from. He's tired and achy and a very small part of him wants to call Nick back in and tell him to just stay the night. An equally small part of him screams that it's a terrible idea because he can still feel the warm churn of heat in his belly from where Nick had been touching him and that feeling is enough to make him question everything that had happened between them in the past few months. Nick was gone and Monroe can still smell his cologne and the heat becomes more intense. His jeans are uncomfortably tight all of a sudden and he shakes his head forcefully, actively trying to banish the thoughts he refuses to let surface. God, he's tired. Maybe a good night's sleep will help…

Motel

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"Come on. Its one night and there's not another rest stop for the next sixty miles." Nick is looking at him stubbornly, one hand on his hip and the other resting on the guestbook for the roadside motel they'd stopped at. The manager is standing behind the desk, silently watching the two bicker from behind his dark rimmed glasses.

"Its one bed and we'd have to share it. I don't know about you but I'm a little hesitant to share a bed with another dude," Monroe growls and it's all he can do not to snarl at the manager for watching them. It's not his fault and he knows it but it would make him feel better if only for a second.

This trip had started off badly from the beginning and had taken a nosedive the longer it went on. Nick had discovered that his aunt had left some items in a safety deposit box, the contents of which were left to him in the event of her death. What she hadn't mentioned was the fact that they were safely tucked away in bank outside of Seattle. Nick had coerced Monroe into coming along and they had spent the better part of the day stuck in the car trying to get there. All that time and when they got there, the box contained little more than a few pages of the book Marie kept, a talisman of sorts, and a dagger with engravings of Runes on the handle. Monroe had to admit he felt a bit cheated; he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting in the box but it was certainly something more than that.

Then, to make matters worse, they'd blown a tire on the way back and spent the better part of an hour trying to get the spare to fit onto the axel. The flat had torn up the underside of the car and it would be a miracle if they made it home that night at all. The car limped along for another thirty miles before it finally gave out on the outskirts of a small town. It was late, they were tired, and there was only one motel within walking distance of their car. The problem was said motel only had one room available with one bed inside.

"Look, its not going to kill you to sleep in the same room as me for one night," Nick persisted while turning to the manager and handing him his credit card.

Monroe wanted to counter that yes, actually, it might, because he was still dealing with the symphony of confused feelings that were swirling around his head ever since Nick had fallen asleep on him back at his house. Being in the same room with him was hard enough but being in the same bed might be too much. Before he can bitch any further though, Nick has already accepted his credit back and taken the key the manager offers him.

"It's either the bed or the car, Monroe," Nick singsongs and for a second Monroe considers punching him. Instead, he sighs heavily and follows him out, ignoring the bemused chuckled from the manager as they leave.

The room is cold and musty when they enter and Monroe can tell the heater hasn't been turned on in over a month. There's a single, queen-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room, a grotesque paisley bedspread stretched over the top of it. It looks like Picasso and Dali got together for a kegger and threw up on the linens. Nick drops his keys on the table next to the door and scans the room for a second. Monroe really considers retracting his decision to sleep in the room rather than the back seat of the car.

"Home, sweet home," Nick says with a shrug as he pulls of his jacket and lays it across the table on top of his keys. He sits down on the edge of the bed and starts working at the laces on his shoes, glancing up at Monroe who still hasn't moved from the doorway. "Are you planning on sleeping by the door?"

Monroe rolls his eyes and finally walks into the room, sitting down on the other side of the bed and trying to act as casual as possible. "Alright man, but if you snore I'm going to knock you out of the bed." Nick laughs from the other side of the bed and it sounds so casual that Monroe is almost envious. He doesn't look as Nick takes his shirt off and keeps his eyes firmly glued to the wall. It's only when the younger man is curled up on his side, safely under that hideous bedspread, that Monroe feels it's safe enough to look over. He lays back against the stiff, lumpy mattress and tries to make himself as comfortable as possible while Nick turns off the light. The room immediately falls into a complete darkness and silence.

Monroe lays awake for a long time after Nick's breathing finally evens out enough to indicate he's asleep. He's laying on his side, facing the opposite wall, and Nick is only a few inches away. He could reach out and touch him if he wanted to…

He shakes those thoughts out of his head and forces himself to close his eyes and clear his mind. The internal struggle his human side and the wolf counterpart make that nearly impossible though. He's not sure how long he's been laying in the bed, thinking of absolutely everything other than the Grimm lying just behind him, but time is starting to run together. He's almost able to clear his mind enough to fall asleep when Nick does it.

The detective shifts behind him, a soft rustle of stiff sheets and linens, and suddenly there's an arm draped over his waist. Monroe freezes instantly, unable to process what the hell is happening for a few minutes. Nick is pressed up behind him, face resting between his shoulder blades and one leg tangling over Eddie's. Nick is fucking spooning with him!

He lays there, absolutely rigid, for about an hour trying to figure out a way to assert his dominance without outright raping Nick because dammit, he is not the little spoon in this situation! The wolf is aching to prove its alpha nature and Monroe is trembling trying to keep it under control. The last thing he needs to do is lose it and literally assert himself over Nick. That would make thing way more than awkward…

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, Nick turns away, back onto his side of the bed, and all limbs and body parts are accounted for. He mumbles something sleepily and it's more sound than words because Monroe can't understand it. All he can really hear is the rush of blood in his own ears and the snarl of the wolf still demanding to make Nick his bitch.

He lays there for the rest of the night, staring at the same patch of wall he'd been watching since he laid down. This is such a problem. The wolf is completely set on making Nick its mate and Monroe is totally powerless against that kind of desire because if he's really honest with himself, he wants it too. He doesn't know what to do about it right now though, all he knows is that its going to be an awkward car ride back to Portland.

Cold

Monroe swears to whatever god is listening that if Nick isn't dead by the time he finds him, he's going to kill him himself. He told him, he told him not to go out looking for that troll and helpfully pointed out all the horrible things said troll could do to him but did Nick listen? No, he did the exact opposite and tracked it out into the middle of the forest in the dead of winter. Alone! God, if Nick had a single self-preservation bone in his body, it had been voluntarily removed years ago!

Monroe leans his head out the window as the car weaves its way down the deserted road. The trees are high and dense overhead and covered in thick layers of snow. He can smell troll, a pungent, heavy scent that sticks in the back of his throat but he can also smell Nick and knows he can't be too far off the road. When the smell gets closer, he stops the car and steps out, his boots crunching on the fresh snow and ice lining the asphalt. He inhales deeply, Nick's scent coming from somewhere Northwest from where he's standing and it takes him just a split second to realize there's blood in the air as well. He growls softly, a flurry of panic swirling in his stomach, and takes off in the direction of the smell.

He finds Nick about a mile and a half off the road, slumped against the trunk of a tree and barely conscious. There's a gash across his forehead and blood covering one side of his face, dark and congealed from the cold. He opens his eyes when Monroe crouches next to him and gives him a painful smile. "Hey."

Monroe wants to yell at him and call him every name he can think of for being such an idiot but he knows there's no time for that. The troll is somewhere nearby, he can smell it without even trying now, and he has no idea where it is. He also has no idea how long Nick has been sitting in the snow with a head injury and he can tell by the bluish tint to the younger man's lips and eyelids that hypothermia is already beginning to set in. Without responding, he scoops Nick over his shoulder like a sack of sand and stands carefully. They need to get back to the car and away from the forest before the troll decides to come back for round two.

Nick is dangling over his shoulder, swaying a bit with each step Monroe takes, and he's mumbling softly. Monroe supposes he should be thankful that Nick is conscious and looks relatively unscathed save for the gash in his forehead, but he can't bring himself to feel relieved until they're safely out of troll territory. Behind him, Nick makes a smart remark about Monroe having a nice ass and its all he can do not to drop him in the snow and leave him there. He figures that would be counter productive to him rescuing Nick though, so he ignores it and keeps walking.

The car appears a few minutes later and not a moment too soon as a tree rattles behind them signaling the approach of the troll. Monroe turns just enough to see thick grey skin and ugly, boar-like features blending in with the snowy landscape behind them but he doesn't stop. The troll won't follow them onto the road, its only interested in protecting its territory. The missing hikers had simply gotten too close and had paid the price for their intrusion. He deposits Nick into passenger seat and slides in beside him, cranking the engine and shifting into drive. Within a few minutes, they're speeding down the road, away from the forest and back towards town.

Nick is still conscious but when he tries to talk his speech is slurred and Monroe knows he needs to get him warm before he does anything else. He turns the heater on full blast, hoping the hot air will help warm Nick up while simultaneously diluting the smell of his blood and make it easier for him to concentrate on the road. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly the material bends a bit beneath his fingers but it helps to keep him focused. Its taking every ounce of self control he has not to lose it with the smell of Nick's blood so close to him but he manages to keep everything contained until they can reach his house.

He knows he should probably be driving straight to the hospital but the wolf straight up refuses to accept the idea of unfamiliar doctors handling Nick right now. It adamantly asserts the fact that he is in control of this situation and that Nick is his responsibility, no one else's. Monroe wants to argue that no, Nick needs a hospital and proper medical care but the protest doesn't make it very far as they've already parked in the driveway and he's scooping Nick out of the front seat and carrying him into the house. Well damn.

Nick is barely conscious now, the intense cold and possible concussion making him limp and uncoordinated as Monroe carries him inside. His eyes are open but they're unfocused and he keeps squinting up at Monroe like the blutbad is covered in fur. Honestly, Monroe wouldn't be surprised if he was.

He knows he should worry about the head wound but right now he's more concerned with getting Nick warm. He carries him into the bedroom and drops him on the bed, making quick work of stripping Nick's shirt off and moving for his pants. The younger man is confused but sits still while Monroe fumbles with the button of his jeans.

"At least buy me dinner first…" Nick mumbles and his words are slurred and jumbled together into a string of syllables that barely makes sense. Monroe frowns because his motor skills are becoming worse and he strips Nick's pants off in one fluid motion, nearly dragging the detective off the bed in the process. He catches Nick by the shoulder and drags him back onto the mattress, immediately tucking the quilt around him like a cocoon.

"I'll buy you dinner when you're not trying to get yourself killed by a troll," Monroe counters irritably, stripping off his own clothes and gathering Nick in his arms, pinning them both to the bed under the layers of blankets. He's easily six degrees warmer than Nick on a normal basis and now that the younger man is practically hypothermic, that six degrees will come in handy.

Almost instantly, Nick clings to him like a lifeline, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a Velcro monkey in order to absorb as much warmth as possible. His skin is cold and clammy compared to Monroe's and it makes the blutbad cringe for a second as he adjusts to the change in temperature. He can still smell Nick's blood, its threateningly close to him now, but he forces himself to focus on keeping a tight grip on the Grimm in his arms. The blood has dried so its not nearly as distracting as fresh but its still taking a lot of effort to ignore it. He figures he'll have to take him to the hospital for the head wound but for now he needs to get him warm.

Nick is sprawled all over him, latching onto every achingly warm inch of Monroe's body. Monroe has his arms looped around Nick's back and torso, trying to cover as much surface area as possible. He'd been forced into survival training when he was twelve and had learned first hand how necessary skin-to-skin contact was when hypothermia was involved. It didn't make it any easier when the person you were sharing body heat with happened to be the object of some very confusing desires. Their position was currently very intimate but Monroe wasn't worried about that, all he could feel was Nick's cold skin against his.

It took nearly an hour before the younger man's skin began to feel close to normal again. He was still shivering violently and clung to Monroe like an anchor but he didn't feel nearly as cold as he had earlier. He drifted in and out of consciousness, falling asleep for a few minutes at a time before jerking himself awake. Each time it happened, Monroe would shush him softly and rub his back, soothing him with quiet words and gentle pressure.

Monroe, for his part, had finally started to relax once Nick began to warm up a bit. Granted, he was still wound tight as drum from everything that had happened that evening but knowing that Nick was safe and alive and breathing in his arms was enough to make him release a breath he'd been holding since he found him in the woods. He'd have to have a serious talk with him later about the stupidity of chasing after a troll later but for right now he was just happy Nick was mostly okay.

"I thought I'd lost you…" He whispers into Nick's hair, concentrating on the soft, silky strands pressed against his jaw.

Nick smiles sleepily against his chest and closes his eyes. "I knew you'd find me…" And that's all that needs to be said before he relaxes and falls asleep, safe and protected in Monroe's arms.

"Always." Monroe tightens his hold slightly in response and listens to the Grimm's slow, even breathing. He'll always find Nick, no matter what.

Drunk

He finds out on his own how Nick's latest case ended and it's a crushing blow even though it was completely non-Grimm related and he had nothing to do with it. The little girl's body had been found about forty miles away, tucked in a drainage ditch and bound with her hands behind her back. She'd been dead for less than a day. They'd caught the man responsible but they hadn't been quick enough and another little girl was dead. It had been broadcast on every local news channel for the past three hours and it made Monroe's stomach churn every time he saw the story.

Nick doesn't answer his phone when he tries to call him and Monroe can't really say he's surprised. Hell, due to the press coverage Nick probably turned the damn thing off to avoid calls from the local media requesting an interview. He drives over to the detective's house, noting Nick's car in the driveway, and walks up to the front door, knocking softly. It takes much longer than usual for Nick to answer the door and when he does he looks like hell.

The younger man's eyes are red and his hair is disheveled and sticking up in odd angles that make him resemble a Japanese anime character. He smells heavily of alcohol, like he'd been dipped in a vat of bourbon and hosed off with a gallon of beer. This case had hit him hard, harder than any of the other ones Monroe had seen him work, and it had ended in the complete opposite way he'd hoped.

Nick looks a bit confused when he sees Monroe standing on his front porch but he lets him in, stepping aside wordlessly and gesturing into the empty house. It had been a little over a month and a half since Juliet had moved out and Nick was still trying to adjust to having the house all to himself.

Monroe follows him into the living room quietly and notices the half empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table. Part of him wants to admonish Nick for drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle and the other part of him doesn't blame him at all. He knows its no way to deal with personal problems but he has to admit he's done the exact same thing in the past so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Nick is sitting silently on the couch, staring at the continuous scroll of new across the TV. The reporters have taken a break from talking about the little girl's murder but Monroe knows its only a matter of time before college degree journalism brings it back to center court. He sits down beside Nick, saying nothing but watching him warily from the corner of his eye.

Nick isn't crying, he isn't angry, he just stares blankly which is more unnerving than either of the other two. Finally, Monroe can't take it anymore and he says his name, almost hesitantly. Nick turns to look at him then, dark eyes filled with guilt and failure, and it breaks Monroe's heart more than he realizes.

"I told her mother I would bring her home safely," Nick mutters softly and Monroe feels his breath catch in his throat just a bit as he speaks. He's never heard Nick's voice sound so hollow before. "We were so close…so fucking close…and we were too late…" Nick shakes his head furiously and takes the half-empty glass of whiskey from the coffee table and finishes it in one gulp. He winces as the liquor burns all the way down but it helps him think about something else for a second.

Monroe wants to say something to reassure him, he wants to tell him he did everything he could and that it wasn't his fault. He wants to tell Nick everything will be alright but he knows it's a lie so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he scoots across the couch and cups his hand over the back of Nick's neck and squeezes gently, a firm yet soothing pressure he hopes conveys the message he can't put into words.

He looks away when Nick drops his head into his hands and the smell of salt and tears assaults his senses. He pretends not to notice Nick digging his fingers into his scalp hard enough to bruise. He lets him cry because it needs to happen and its healthier than the self-induced alcoholism Nick was putting himself through earlier.

They sit wordlessly for nearly an hour, Nick leaning heavily against Monroe's shoulder and Monroe wrapping his arm around him protectively, offering silent comfort where he could. Eventually the tears stop and Nick is spent and miserable. His shoulders hitch a little with the remnants of sobs and he's scrubbing at his face furiously in order to get rid of the remaining tears. Monroe says nothing, he just cards his fingers through Nick's hair and presses a light kiss to the top of his head.

The alcohol is starting to take its effect and Nick is drowsy and heavy against Monroe's shoulder. Its close to midnight and Monroe figures he should show himself out but he's worried about leaving Nick alone. As if to answer his unspoken question, Nick's hand tightens on his arm just enough to stop him and he can barely look him in the eye when he asks.

"Please stay?"

Monroe just nods and shifts further down on the couch, gathering Nick in his arms and stroking his back gently. Nick hides his face in the crook of Monroe's neck and the blutbad can feel warm, hot tears against his skin. He manages to grab the remote and change the channel before the news team can circle back to the little girl's murder and he turns down the volume. Nick is sprawled across his chest, long legs splayed out over the couch cushions in a drunken stretch. They stay like that for the rest of the night, Nick finally falling asleep against Monroe's chest and Monroe rubbing small, soothing circles into his back.

Sunday

Monroe wakes up with a sneeze, Nick's hair tickling his nose and brushing across his jaw. He blinks in the early morning sunshine, glancing to the window and making a mental note to get darker curtains the next time he goes to the department store. Its early, just past 6 am, and he'd consider cursing Nick for waking him up so early if the younger man didn't look so damn adorable when he slept.

Nick is sprawled half on top of him, half off the bed, in a position that doesn't look even remotely comfortable. One arm is tossed over Monroe's chest, the other dangling down by his side, and his head is tucked under the blutbad's jaw. Monroe has grown accustomed to the fact that Nick sleeps like he's been tossed from a moving vehicle and has gotten used to waking up with him stretched out over the top of him like a human blanket. The sheets have shimmied down his back and he's hopelessly tangled in them, legs and hips caught up in the loops and folds of material. Still, even in the awkwardness of his sleeping position, Monroe thinks he's beautiful.

Nick's hair is falling over his eyes in soft, silky waves and his dark eye lashes flutter just a bit as he dreams. His breathing is slow and steady, a constant tickle against the side of Monroe's neck, and he looks completely and utterly relaxed against the blutbad's chest.

Monroe lets out a contented sigh and busies himself trying to untangle Nick from the sheets without waking him. They'd been together for just under two months and Monroe still enjoyed waking up like this; he liked it even more when it was Sunday and neither of them had to be anywhere. It had been difficult to break himself to his routine when Nick first started staying over but he found it much easier now…the Grimm tended to be a welcome distraction.

As far as sleeping together went, Nick was a good bedmate to have. He didn't have any unusual quirks like snoring or sleep walking but he did tend to cuddle. A lot. Monroe thought he'd be used to it from all the other times Nick had platonically become a human octopus on top of him. Still, it did surprise him to wake up after their first night together to find Nick on top of him, literally hugging him like a teddy bear. It was strange at first but now Monroe found it endearing.

The sheets jerk against his leg and Nick lets out a muffled "huh?" before opening his eyes slowly and looking around. Monroe silently curses himself for waking the younger man up but its not an unwelcome experience. He smiles warmly, reaching up and brushing some flyaway hair from Nick's face. The detective, for his part, leans into his hand and damn near purrs.

"God, you're like a freakin' cat," Monroe mutters but it doesn't stop him from brushing his fingers through Nick's hair, short fingernails scraping lightly over his scalp. If Nick could become more boneless, he just did.

"Well at least cats and dogs get along, right?" He mumbles sleepily, tucking his head back against Monroe's shoulder. He's all sleep-warm and lazy and the wolf in Monroe's head tells him it's the perfect time to claim Nick but he ignores it like a champ. They'd gone three rounds the night before, no wonder Nick was still tired.

"I swear to God, I don't know how you get so tangled in the sheets," Monroe says with a scowl, still trying to dislodge Nick from the sheet trap he'd designed around himself.

"It's a gift," the younger man mutters with a shrug.

"More like a curse." Monroe gives up his mission with a sigh and realizes the easiest thing is to get Nick to help him. "Get off for a second so we can fix the sheets." Even as he says it, he knows he doesn't want Nick to move. Nick makes some kind of childish pouting noise in the back of his throat and Monre can't help but chuckle because he feels the same way. "Come on, you're going to get cold."

The detective shakes his head slowly and stays where he is. "I never get cold when I'm around you. Its like sleeping next to a furnace."

"On top of, you mean."

Nick waves his hand flippantly and lets it drop back onto Monroe's chest. "Technicalities." He snuggles a bit more against Monroe's chest and yawns. "I'll be fine, I won't get cold."

Monroe considers arguing for a minute but realizes it's a losing fight. He sighs and tightens his arms around Nick, large, warm hands running slowly up and down his back. "Alright, but I don't want to hear you bitch about being cold later."

Nick smiles sleepily against his chest and nods. "Promise." He closes his eyes and within a few deep breaths, he's back asleep. Monre watches him for a few seconds, memorizing the smooth lines of his face and jaw. He'd always found Nick attractive but had never let himself pursue that thought process until very recently. Now, he could think it all he wanted and never feel strange about it.

He finds the quilt hanging halfway off the bed and manages to snag it with one hand without jostling Nick awake again. Pulling the quilt over the top of them, he tucks it around Nick and leans back, admiring his work. He certainly wasn't going to get cold with Nick stretched out over the top of him and he was relatively certain Nick would be fine as well but it was formality more than anything. He presses a gentle kiss to Nick' temple, breathing in his scent for a minute before closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off to sleep once more.

Hope you guys liked it! :D