Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Grimm" and fell in love with the Nick x Monroe pairing. This was mostly inspired by the pilot episode, 1x07, 1x08, 1x12 so it is loosely based in the late season one in terms of setting.

Warnings: temporary memory loss, injury, care-taking, hurt and comfort, animal traits, scenting, language, flirting, just guys being dudes, drama, romance, pining.

Abendrot

Chapter Ten

He was in the kitchen, puttering around and absolutely snooping on his own life when he found an empty bottle of wine behind a couple of vases on the top shelf. He brought it down curiously. Nose wrinkling at the dust as he thumbed the label clean.

He let go of a muted whistle.

'78 Bordeaux.

Damn. It was a shame he didn't remember drinking it.

He was about to turn and ask when he caught a sudden scent. Something clinging to the bottle. The little hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he frowned down at it. What was that? It was there, on the tip of his tongue, like a word he'd forgotten. Knowing he knew it as the sound of Nick channel-surfing in the living room grew muted and unimportant.

His vision flashed to red. Letting it happen as his mouth dropped open, inhaling deeply. Nose drifting down the cool glass as he tried to suss it out. Trying to pull it in, down or just deeper. Needing to understand. To force it. To yank it free and drag it bleeding and screaming into the open, until-

The next breath of air he pulled in made him shiver, cool against the damp part of his lips.

"Yeah and…what? You think I know everything about every creature out there?"

"I don't need you for what you know, I need your nose."

"Oh, I get it, so- little Timmy is stuck in a well… and you need Lassie to come find him? Boy, you really know how to butter a guy up for a favor."

"I've got a bottle of '78 Bordeaux in my trunk."

"…I can maybe catch a scent."

"Okay."

He'd waited until he had Nick over for dinner to open it. Planning everything without even thinking about it. He'd made a recipe he knew Nick would like and waited until he could smell the good vibes pouring off him before he brought it out. And, just like he'd hoped, Nick had smiled wide when he'd poured them a glass. Stomach doing flip-flops as he stamped down on the urge to rumble with pleasure.

Happy Nick was happy.

Happy Nick was here.

Happy he could provide-

"I thought you would've opened that by now?" Nick hummed, bringing it up to his nose for a sniff after a light swirl. Making a happy sound deep in his throat that almost made him miss his own glass.

"I was saving it for a special occasion," he answered easily, sitting down. Raising his glass for them to clink as Nick smelled like amusement and easy curiosity. Waiting until they'd both had a sip before pressing him.

"What's the special occasion?"

He'd faltered then. Realizing in a rush that he didn't have one.

Other than what was painfully obvious now.

That it'd been a date and neither of them had known it.

Oh.

Oh.

There it was.

The sound of shattering glass didn't reach him as the bottle slipped through his fingers. Gripping the counter for balance as he experienced the last eight months – no, more – in a shuttering, impossible rush.

That first moment outside his house when he'd looked up and found the Grimm standing there. Watching. Scaring the life out of him as he charged across the road, yelling. Sure he was about to die as the Grimm's eyes yawned black and all the words he was yelling pierced off into swan-song. Fighting tooth and nail to keep himself in check as the Grimm slammed him against his stairs and gripped his shoulders. Demanding to know about a girl. What girl? So close to showing the sharp of his fangs and kicking him into the nearest wall he could have wept in relief when another man ran in- confused. Police. It was the police. The Grimm was-

He remembered pissing on his fence and catching the Grimm's scent for the second time. Exploding out of his living room window and tossing him against the side of the house just to prove a point. Wanting to scare him off until he realized the Grimm didn't smell right. Instead of blood and brimstone, he was a mess of adolescent-tones, stress and second-hand sickness. His aunt. And before he knew it, he found himself offering him a beer and welcoming him inside. Still internally panicking as the confused Grimm hesitated, then followed him. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Telling him everything he didn't want to know as he tried his best not to seem threatening. Deciding that if he could convince the Grimm he wasn't a threat, maybe he wouldn't have to relocate to Cuba, or- you know, Antarctica.

But of course, Nick hadn't let him off the hook so easy.

Because there was still that missing girl. And the rival blutbad he'd been avoiding was responsible and suddenly he found himself helping. Helping a goddamned Grimm. Unable to fucking stop himself because Nick was a disaster and alone and had no idea what he was doing. Worse, he smelled like-

After that he couldn't seem to close the door. It was like the flood gates had opened or he'd peeked into Pandora's box. Because it wasn't long after that little girl's picture had been in the paper – happy smile, relieved parents – that his doorbell started ringing day and night. With Nick inexorably shoving his way inside, wheedling information and usually breakfast before he was whirling away again. And he let it happen every time.

He saw his death in Nick's aunt's eyes that night in the hospital. But he hadn't run. Instead, he'd protected the only enemy his people had. The monster that lurked in the dark. All because Nick had asked him too. Nick with his stupid face, hopeful scent and good intentions. Nick who trusted him when he really, really shouldn't. Nick who-

He remembered finding himself in the grocery store one day. Standing in front of a display of sugary drinks he'd never in a million years buy. Only to put a case in his cart anyway, because Nick smelled like them sometimes and-

He remembered the months passing and Nick coming over one night, smelling like metal and frozen bleach. The scent of a woman, pissed off and brittle with tears, clinging to his clothes. He hadn't asked, he'd just handed him a beer. Staying sober as Nick had moved on to something stronger. Falling asleep on his couch as he puttered around in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner. Eventually creeping back out to look at him, choking on the lump that'd taken up residence in his throat. Unable to do anything but shake out a blanket and lay it over him. Only settling when Nick drifted deeper into sleep.

He blinked and suddenly he was in the forest. Nick was looking down it him. Something he couldn't define alive in the back of his eyes as Holly clung to him. Rediscovering a part of himself he thought had died a long time ago as he held her close. Soothing her with base rumbles as that warm feeling in his chest only seemed to spread the longer he looked up at Nick and-

Reapers.

No!

The counter under his hands groaned a warning.

He blinked again and found himself fighting with Nick in the arena. Back to back. Winning. Blood high and pounding under his skin as he kept his darker parts leashed. Refusing to let himself loose as Nick tried to get them out of this and-

He remembered long dinners and Nick staying the night on the couch more and more.

He remembered Holly- the first time she'd shown up at his house in the middle of the night. Smelling overwhelmed and irritated, the scent of her mother clinging to every inch of her in all the right ways. Expression caught in that same grimacing-frown as a sparkly blue headband glittered in her hair. Leaving him with no other option than to snort out a laugh and bring her inside.

He remembered Nick looking at him. Smiling at him.

He remembered the slow, languid circles they'd been making around each other for the past year without even knowing it.

He remembered how he hadn't felt so good in years, maybe ever.

He remembered how Nick had become the most important thing in his life and he hadn't understood what that meant until the Smatherhorn had cornored Nick in a corpse of tangled trees and suddenly all he could see was red. Leaping at it in a fury of claws, teeth and everything he had to give before the world went blank and-

Oh.

He remembered.

He remembered all of it.

"Monroe?"

Nick's hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sock feet curled at the toes as they appeared through the v of his legs. Trying to avoid the broken glass. Framing the label that was decorated with sharp shards. Standing out as something significant, when only minutes ago it'd been nothing more than a dusty curiosity.

"Monroe, you okay?"

"I remember," he said hoarsely. Hands uncurling from around the counter top. Deciding he'd care later about the cracks he'd put in the corners as he focused on the way Nick had stopped breathing behind him. "Nick, I-"

There was a beat.

A lonely moment of silence.

Then-

"Oh- thank god."

He barely had time to turn around before Nick was grabbing him in a fierce hug. Head grazing the underside of his chin in the best possible way as he found himself clinging right back. Rumbling a sob of contentment and gratitude into the soft of the Grimm's hair before dipping lower. Not questioning it or even pausing when Nick canted his head – showing his throat. He tickled his nose into the crease where neck met shoulder without an inch of shame. Inhaling. Aware on some level that Nick was burning his skin with happy tears – or maybe they were his. It was hard to tell.

"Welcome back… I missed you."

He huffed a laugh, pulling back grudgingly as he cleared his throat. Shaking his head.

"Believe it or not, I never left," he answered, voice hoarse. Mortified and content as he embraced the changes the last few days had brought, instead of running from them. Knowing that even if he did, Nick would just chase him down anyway.

It was a good thought.

For more than a few reasons.

But there he was, getting ahead of himself again.

"I know," Nick murmured, sounding just as wrecked. Blinking hurriedly as he looked up at him. Leaning in as he did the same. Forgetting about the glass. Or the sound of the tv blaring some DIY ad in the living room or the lunch he'd barely started on the stove.

"Did you mean it?" he asked. Too raw and pathetically hopeful not to ask. Wanting that spark- that perfect, messed-up, dizzying future he'd gotten a taste for over the past few days. The one they'd both been waiting to start.

"Every word," Nick told him, smelling so much like his that his throat caught. "You?"

He didn't have words.

He'd never been good at getting out the right ones.

So, instead, he just nodded. Head ducking low and into his chin as all the tension that'd been living in him since this had all started, drained out of him like water through a sieve. Making room for something new. Something better. Something that could be theirs, together.

It was Nick who kissed him first. Awkward, sweet and just a bit rough as he wavered on his tip-toes to reach. Dragging stubble and sharp jaw-lines like he'd almost missed his lips completely. But overall, he figured that not even getting his memories back could top it.

First kisses were kind of up there with Christmas and Halloween for him, apparently.

Or maybe it was just Nick.

Either way, finally.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone that stuck with me through that months long dry spell! This story is now complete.