Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 9/?
Feb. 13th, 2016 12:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bymagajonesChapter 8 here
Chapter 9
Monroe wasn’t really sleepy when he thumped up the stairs to his room – the second master bedroom, he thought rolling his eyes and fighting back a smile. He paused a moment at the top of the stairs when he felt a strange feeling in his chest. He frowned, pushing at it with his free hand, worried about maybe a heart attack or a stroke. Then he realized that it was… maybe happiness. Or relief? He hadn’t felt either in so long that he’d forgotten how they felt. He pressed down on his cane with more force than usual, taking the last few steps to his room.
Disrobing to his boxers and t-shirt, he lowered himself to the bed, ignoring the pull of a few muscles as he attempted to come to grips with the fact that he was back in Portland.
Back with Nick.
He began to panic. What if it happened all over again? What if this time instead of Juliette and Rosalee it was Hank and Wu?
He didn’t realize he was shaking and cold until he felt Nick slide in the bed behind him, whispering, “It’s okay,” wrapping his warmth around Monroe, pressing a hand against Monroe’s heart.
Monroe wanted to lie and say that he was okay. He wanted to pull away and ask Nick to leave him in peace. Instead, he pressed Nick’s hand against his chest as if he could permanently embed it into his skin. He gave a shuddering sigh, closed his eyes, sinking into a wave of contentment in minutes.
He wasn’t sure what time it was when he awoke, but he was alone. He ignored the disappointment, recognizing how awkward the morning after would’ve been, and slowly pushed himself to sitting. He was now covered in the blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed, the clothes he’d just dropped the night before shoved underneath one of the windows. He chuckled at his first thought, that of course it wouldn’t have occurred to Nick to fold the clothes. He realized that Nick had probably only moved them so that he could close Monroe’s door.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Monroe slid back down the bed, pulling the blanket underneath his chin. Nick had held him last night. Nick had held him last night. Nick had held him last night. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. While he’d been recuperating, Monroe had felt Nick run a hand through Monroe’s sweaty hair, and the day before he’d pressed his forehead against Monroe’s. Nick had realized that Monroe needed help and had responded by comforting him physically. It hadn’t meant more than the times Nick had pressed his hands on Monroe’s cheeks to get his attention.
It had felt really good, though, Monroe had to admit.
He flashed back to when they’d found Holly. She’d been touch-starved, constantly hugging Monroe once she realized that he wasn’t a danger to her. At the time, he’d kind of figured it out, but he hadn’t really understood it. Now he got it. He’d wanted to press against Nick, fold the Grimm into him until they became one body. It was like he’d been withheld water, and Nick was an unending source suddenly there for the taking.
Only Nick wasn’t his for the taking. Nick wasn’t his at all.
Hearing a thump downstairs, Monroe knew he should get up. He just felt uncertain how to act in front of Nick. Should they talk about it? He really didn’t want to talk about it.
Finally he forced himself out of bed and donned his wrinkled clothes. He realized that he had nothing: no money, no clothes, not even a toothbrush. Thanks to that Drang-Zorn, Dante something, everything Monroe had owned had been reduced to ash. He’d learned his lesson that night as he stood in front of the ashes that had been his home. What was the point of cherishing possessions when they could be taken from you in the flick of a match? That was why Nick hadn’t found anything important in Monroe’s shelter in Alaska.
And it was a good thing he’d learned that lesson, because he’d have lost whatever he’d collected when the bad Grimm had kidnapped him. He hadn’t had to worry about anything left behind.
He was going to need money, though, for clothes and toiletries and rent – no way was he going to live in this house without reimbursing Nick.
The thought of returning to clockmaking made him nauseous. His shaking hands aside, he wasn’t sure that he still had the concentration, the care for detail anymore. Other than that, he didn’t really have any marketable skills, because playing a cello - which he couldn’t afford to buy in the first place - on the street for tips was not only a lame idea but also not a job. He’d have to come up with something fast.
He quickly handled things in the bathroom and headed toward the noises he’d heard.
He didn’t use his cane down the stairs but took it with him just in case. He’d gotten pretty steady, but all it took was one moment of disorientation, and he was flat on his ass, an undignified position to say the least. Besides, he liked his cane. Nick had found it in the woods around Lidiya’s home, trimmed off the excess branches, and sanded it somehow until it was smooth and solid in Monroe’s hands.
He found Nick in the bare living room staring out at the woods.
“Hey,” Nick said, turning around with an easy smile.
“Morning,” Monroe said a little gruffly, uncertain how to act around the man who’d held him all night.
“So I ran out….”
Nick continued to talk, but Monroe’s attention was diverted by the cup of coffee the Grimm was waving around as he spoke. “Is that coffee?”
Amused smile on his face, Nick asked, “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Umm, you ran out, and you have coffee?” Monroe said hopefully.
Nick laughed. “On the island in the kitchen.”
Beside the to-go cup, Monroe found a small pile of toiletries. First things first, he decided, taking a sip and closing his eyes as he welcomed the familiar taste.
“I know it’s not one of your organic, specially-brewed-in-the-dark-jungles-of-Columbia brands, but I figured it could do in a pinch.”
Monroe couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually drunk coffee, so at the moment, he was just thankful for the cup in his hands. “Thanks,” he said after a few seconds. He opened his eyes and glanced curiously at the pile.
“What I’d said earlier was that I bought you a few things to tide you over. Figured we could go out for some breakfast and pick up some clothes and whatever else we need.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Monroe cleared his voice. “I don’t really have any money right now, but –”
“Actually, you do,” Nick said, opening a drawer and pulling out a worn, brown leather wallet. “You left this in your car…”
Monroe took the wallet, the feel so familiar even after all this time. He felt pinpricks in his eyes and had to blink them away before opening it.
“I didn’t touch anything in it other than using your ATM card,” Nick said.
Monroe looked at him curiously, surprised to find Nick blushing slightly. “I forged your name on a power of attorney document so I could keep up with your money. You know, in case you ever needed it. Or something.” Nick faltered uncertainly at the end, his eyes sliding away from Monroe’s.
“Hey,” Monroe said, reaching out a hand and grasping Nick’s arm gently. “Thank you.”
Monroe had been so upset, so desperate to get as far away from Portland and its memories that he’d pulled out his cash before tossing his wallet, phone, and keys in his bug and took the first bus he could afford out of town. And while no one had voluntarily sat beside him, no one had really looked at him and his sooty clothes twice. After that, he’d caught rides with truck drivers, showering in various truck stops or wiping himself down in gas station bathrooms. That time was all a bit of a haze for him, since he’d spent so much of it trying not to just walk in front of a truck and end it all.
Even now, he wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t done it those first couple of days. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, fought back tears that he knew would never stop if he’d gotten them started, and felt guilty for each painful breath.
And then he started to understand that his death wouldn’t fix anything. Rosalee, Juliette, and Trubel would still be gone, he and Nick would still be alone, Nick would still hate him. In fact, it actually seemed a little cowardly to end his life. No, he deserved the pain of opening his eyes every morning with the knowledge of what he’d done. Living became the only way he could even attempt a penance that could never be assuaged.
He blinked, returning to the present, marveling at the fact that he now had something he’d thought he’d lost forever – Nick standing in front of him, smiling, his eyes soft.
They returned to the living room, gazing at the trees in silence as they finished their coffee.
As much as he would’ve liked a shower, Monroe just did the best he could using the washcloth Nick had bought him. Just the idea of getting clean to have to put on the clothes he’d been wearing for the past who knew how many days made him feel even dirtier. But he brushed his teeth, washed his face again, and put on the deodorant. He also took off the bandages on his fingertips. It was a little awkward, but he finally managed it by using his teeth. After staring down at his toes, he decided to keep those bandages, at least until he bought a larger pair of shoes. He then headed downstairs, his wallet in the back pocket where he’d kept it years ago.
They headed into town, Monroe surprised at how quickly they arrived.
“It feels like we’re living in another world, but Hank was right. It’s not really that much of a commute,” Nick said before Monroe could even voice his surprise.
They stopped at a diner that Monroe didn’t recall seeing before, and he wondered if he’d just never noticed it or if it’d popped up while he was gone. He shrugged, realizing that it didn’t really matter, as he picked up the menu. Once he and Nick had placed their orders, Monroe asked, “So, what’s the plan?”
“I figure the most important things to get right now are clothes and food,” Nick said, absently playing with the paper from his straw. “My things are at the office, but we need to buy you some new stuff. Your driver’s license expired while you were gone, so we can’t get you a car until that’s taken care of. I let your insurance lapse too.”
Monroe nodded. No point in paying for something that wasn’t being used. “So for right now, clothes and food.”
They stared at each other in awkward silence. For the first time since their disastrous first meeting many years before, Monroe really felt uncomfortable around Nick. They knew each other too well for small talk (besides, they’d been in each other’s pockets for the past couple of weeks), and anything else was too emotionally dangerous to get into in a diner.
Monroe searched his mind for anything remotely innocuous to talk about and was relieved when Nick’s phone rang. He tossed Monroe an apologetic look as he answered.
“I’m sorry,” the waitress said to Monroe as Nick spoke on the phone. “We haven’t gotten our food shipment in for the day, so we don’t have any of the vegetables for your dish except for onions.”
Monroe sighed inwardly, welcoming himself back to civilization.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
“I’m sorry to intrude on your first full day back, but I thought you’d want to know,” Hank said apologetically.
“It’s fine,” Nick said, pulling out a pen and grabbing a napkin. It went unsaid that a Grimm’s work was never done, and frankly, he’d been gone longer than he really should have been, leaving Portland open to all sorts of Wesen misbehavior. “Give me the address.”
“We’ve already processed the place, and like I said, I’m not absolutely sure that it needs your particular expertise,” Hank said, obviously surrounded by other people. “So you don’t have to rush here. Finish eating, text me, and I’ll meet you.” He rattled off the address.
Nick repeated it for confirmation and said, “I’ll see you in an hour, tops.” He hung up just in time to watch Monroe slide from his side of the booth. “Where’re you going?”
“I’ll be right back. Just have to help out with something,” Monroe said with a slight smile.
Nick frowned, curious, but relaxed as the waitress gave him a refill, shooting him a quick smile before following Monroe into… wait, was he going into the kitchen? Nick leaned forward, watching Monroe speaking to a kid Nick assumed was the cook. Monroe started waving his hands around, but Nick could tell from his gestures that he was getting worked up in an excited way, like he did when he was talking about his clocks. Shrugging, Nick took a sip of his coffee, snagged Monroe’s napkin, and began making notes.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
“…and then you just spread it on top of the brown rice, and voila!” Monroe said, dividing the apples and onion sauté onto three plates.
“That was so easy,” Tony, the twenty-three year-old cook said, stunned. He took a bite from his plate. “And tasty!”
Monroe chuckled.
They’d had a moment at first when he realized that Tony was a Siegbarste, and Tony realized that Monroe was a Blutbad. It turned out that, like riding a bike, Monroe’s fast-talking was something that couldn’t be forgotten. He’d quickly explained that he was just there to help and that as far as he was concerned, they were just two dudes interested in making sure that none of the customers died of food poisoning.
After that, things got better, and Tony started opening up. Turned out his father, who owned the place, had forced him to take the cook’s job after the previous one had quit in a huff. Monroe was getting the feeling that it was one of those paternal attempts to teach his son responsibility. Personally, he’d have started with a waiting job, but Monroe wasn’t a father, so he decided he wasn’t in a place to judge.
Until he realized that beyond burgers and fries – which were both still kind of iffy – Tony was totally out of his element. So Monroe showed him a few things like how to multitask as the two waitresses shot orders at them. He also gave the kid a quick course on how to make Apples and Onions, a simple vegetarian dish using their available herbs and some the few fresh foods he spotted while they waited for their shipment. Monroe would’ve preferred fresh herbs as well but considered himself lucky that they had what he needed at all, if only dried in bottles.
Brenda had to run over to greet a couple of new customers, and Tony took the time to lean in and whisper, “It’s really tight back here. Sometimes I have a tough time concentrating on anything else.”
Monroe nodded, remembering that Siegbarstes as a general rule didn’t like feeling closed-in. “I know some breathing techniques that might be able to help…” He quickly ran through a brief breathing exercise and had time for Tony to try it a few times before Brenda returned with three new orders. After a panicked look from Tony, Monroe sighed, nudged Tony to the side, and threw a couple of hamburger patties on the grill.
Eventually, he handed the spatula back to Tony and grabbed his plate, leaving the kitchen as Brenda, his waitress, dug into the plate Monroe had made for her.
“Sorry about that,” Monroe said, sliding back into his seat and putting down his plate. “The poor kid –” He stopped, staring at Nick’s empty plate. “How long was I back there?”
“About twenty minutes,” Nick said, taking a sip of his water.
“Man, I’m sorry,” Monroe muttered.
“No, it was interesting watching you work,” Nick said with a smile. “Kind of like getting a show with my meal.”
Monroe grinned, digging into his food. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry, and Tony was right; he did make a mean Apples and Onions.
Nick pushed a napkin over to Monroe. “So I made a list of everything I could think of that you probably want to do over the next few days. I’m sure you’re going to have more you want to add and probably some you want to take off, but I figured it was a good starting point.” He tilted his head toward Monroe’s hands. “How are the fingers?”
Monroe had been trying to avoid looking at his hands. His fingertips looked strange without nails, and he could tell that Tony had been aching to ask what had happened when he noticed them as Monroe washed his hands before starting to cook. He shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “They don’t really hurt; they’re just really, really sensitive.”
“You think they’re going to grow back?”
Monroe paused, his fork in midair. “I hope so.” He didn’t say anything about the fact that he hadn’t been able to tamp into his Blutbad self, because he just couldn’t go there. Saying it out loud made it real.
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 9
Monroe wasn’t really sleepy when he thumped up the stairs to his room – the second master bedroom, he thought rolling his eyes and fighting back a smile. He paused a moment at the top of the stairs when he felt a strange feeling in his chest. He frowned, pushing at it with his free hand, worried about maybe a heart attack or a stroke. Then he realized that it was… maybe happiness. Or relief? He hadn’t felt either in so long that he’d forgotten how they felt. He pressed down on his cane with more force than usual, taking the last few steps to his room.
Disrobing to his boxers and t-shirt, he lowered himself to the bed, ignoring the pull of a few muscles as he attempted to come to grips with the fact that he was back in Portland.
Back with Nick.
He began to panic. What if it happened all over again? What if this time instead of Juliette and Rosalee it was Hank and Wu?
He didn’t realize he was shaking and cold until he felt Nick slide in the bed behind him, whispering, “It’s okay,” wrapping his warmth around Monroe, pressing a hand against Monroe’s heart.
Monroe wanted to lie and say that he was okay. He wanted to pull away and ask Nick to leave him in peace. Instead, he pressed Nick’s hand against his chest as if he could permanently embed it into his skin. He gave a shuddering sigh, closed his eyes, sinking into a wave of contentment in minutes.
He wasn’t sure what time it was when he awoke, but he was alone. He ignored the disappointment, recognizing how awkward the morning after would’ve been, and slowly pushed himself to sitting. He was now covered in the blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed, the clothes he’d just dropped the night before shoved underneath one of the windows. He chuckled at his first thought, that of course it wouldn’t have occurred to Nick to fold the clothes. He realized that Nick had probably only moved them so that he could close Monroe’s door.
Rubbing a hand over his face, Monroe slid back down the bed, pulling the blanket underneath his chin. Nick had held him last night. Nick had held him last night. Nick had held him last night. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. While he’d been recuperating, Monroe had felt Nick run a hand through Monroe’s sweaty hair, and the day before he’d pressed his forehead against Monroe’s. Nick had realized that Monroe needed help and had responded by comforting him physically. It hadn’t meant more than the times Nick had pressed his hands on Monroe’s cheeks to get his attention.
It had felt really good, though, Monroe had to admit.
He flashed back to when they’d found Holly. She’d been touch-starved, constantly hugging Monroe once she realized that he wasn’t a danger to her. At the time, he’d kind of figured it out, but he hadn’t really understood it. Now he got it. He’d wanted to press against Nick, fold the Grimm into him until they became one body. It was like he’d been withheld water, and Nick was an unending source suddenly there for the taking.
Only Nick wasn’t his for the taking. Nick wasn’t his at all.
Hearing a thump downstairs, Monroe knew he should get up. He just felt uncertain how to act in front of Nick. Should they talk about it? He really didn’t want to talk about it.
Finally he forced himself out of bed and donned his wrinkled clothes. He realized that he had nothing: no money, no clothes, not even a toothbrush. Thanks to that Drang-Zorn, Dante something, everything Monroe had owned had been reduced to ash. He’d learned his lesson that night as he stood in front of the ashes that had been his home. What was the point of cherishing possessions when they could be taken from you in the flick of a match? That was why Nick hadn’t found anything important in Monroe’s shelter in Alaska.
And it was a good thing he’d learned that lesson, because he’d have lost whatever he’d collected when the bad Grimm had kidnapped him. He hadn’t had to worry about anything left behind.
He was going to need money, though, for clothes and toiletries and rent – no way was he going to live in this house without reimbursing Nick.
The thought of returning to clockmaking made him nauseous. His shaking hands aside, he wasn’t sure that he still had the concentration, the care for detail anymore. Other than that, he didn’t really have any marketable skills, because playing a cello - which he couldn’t afford to buy in the first place - on the street for tips was not only a lame idea but also not a job. He’d have to come up with something fast.
He quickly handled things in the bathroom and headed toward the noises he’d heard.
He didn’t use his cane down the stairs but took it with him just in case. He’d gotten pretty steady, but all it took was one moment of disorientation, and he was flat on his ass, an undignified position to say the least. Besides, he liked his cane. Nick had found it in the woods around Lidiya’s home, trimmed off the excess branches, and sanded it somehow until it was smooth and solid in Monroe’s hands.
He found Nick in the bare living room staring out at the woods.
“Hey,” Nick said, turning around with an easy smile.
“Morning,” Monroe said a little gruffly, uncertain how to act around the man who’d held him all night.
“So I ran out….”
Nick continued to talk, but Monroe’s attention was diverted by the cup of coffee the Grimm was waving around as he spoke. “Is that coffee?”
Amused smile on his face, Nick asked, “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Umm, you ran out, and you have coffee?” Monroe said hopefully.
Nick laughed. “On the island in the kitchen.”
Beside the to-go cup, Monroe found a small pile of toiletries. First things first, he decided, taking a sip and closing his eyes as he welcomed the familiar taste.
“I know it’s not one of your organic, specially-brewed-in-the-dark-jungles-of-Columbia brands, but I figured it could do in a pinch.”
Monroe couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually drunk coffee, so at the moment, he was just thankful for the cup in his hands. “Thanks,” he said after a few seconds. He opened his eyes and glanced curiously at the pile.
“What I’d said earlier was that I bought you a few things to tide you over. Figured we could go out for some breakfast and pick up some clothes and whatever else we need.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Monroe cleared his voice. “I don’t really have any money right now, but –”
“Actually, you do,” Nick said, opening a drawer and pulling out a worn, brown leather wallet. “You left this in your car…”
Monroe took the wallet, the feel so familiar even after all this time. He felt pinpricks in his eyes and had to blink them away before opening it.
“I didn’t touch anything in it other than using your ATM card,” Nick said.
Monroe looked at him curiously, surprised to find Nick blushing slightly. “I forged your name on a power of attorney document so I could keep up with your money. You know, in case you ever needed it. Or something.” Nick faltered uncertainly at the end, his eyes sliding away from Monroe’s.
“Hey,” Monroe said, reaching out a hand and grasping Nick’s arm gently. “Thank you.”
Monroe had been so upset, so desperate to get as far away from Portland and its memories that he’d pulled out his cash before tossing his wallet, phone, and keys in his bug and took the first bus he could afford out of town. And while no one had voluntarily sat beside him, no one had really looked at him and his sooty clothes twice. After that, he’d caught rides with truck drivers, showering in various truck stops or wiping himself down in gas station bathrooms. That time was all a bit of a haze for him, since he’d spent so much of it trying not to just walk in front of a truck and end it all.
Even now, he wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t done it those first couple of days. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, fought back tears that he knew would never stop if he’d gotten them started, and felt guilty for each painful breath.
And then he started to understand that his death wouldn’t fix anything. Rosalee, Juliette, and Trubel would still be gone, he and Nick would still be alone, Nick would still hate him. In fact, it actually seemed a little cowardly to end his life. No, he deserved the pain of opening his eyes every morning with the knowledge of what he’d done. Living became the only way he could even attempt a penance that could never be assuaged.
He blinked, returning to the present, marveling at the fact that he now had something he’d thought he’d lost forever – Nick standing in front of him, smiling, his eyes soft.
They returned to the living room, gazing at the trees in silence as they finished their coffee.
As much as he would’ve liked a shower, Monroe just did the best he could using the washcloth Nick had bought him. Just the idea of getting clean to have to put on the clothes he’d been wearing for the past who knew how many days made him feel even dirtier. But he brushed his teeth, washed his face again, and put on the deodorant. He also took off the bandages on his fingertips. It was a little awkward, but he finally managed it by using his teeth. After staring down at his toes, he decided to keep those bandages, at least until he bought a larger pair of shoes. He then headed downstairs, his wallet in the back pocket where he’d kept it years ago.
They headed into town, Monroe surprised at how quickly they arrived.
“It feels like we’re living in another world, but Hank was right. It’s not really that much of a commute,” Nick said before Monroe could even voice his surprise.
They stopped at a diner that Monroe didn’t recall seeing before, and he wondered if he’d just never noticed it or if it’d popped up while he was gone. He shrugged, realizing that it didn’t really matter, as he picked up the menu. Once he and Nick had placed their orders, Monroe asked, “So, what’s the plan?”
“I figure the most important things to get right now are clothes and food,” Nick said, absently playing with the paper from his straw. “My things are at the office, but we need to buy you some new stuff. Your driver’s license expired while you were gone, so we can’t get you a car until that’s taken care of. I let your insurance lapse too.”
Monroe nodded. No point in paying for something that wasn’t being used. “So for right now, clothes and food.”
They stared at each other in awkward silence. For the first time since their disastrous first meeting many years before, Monroe really felt uncomfortable around Nick. They knew each other too well for small talk (besides, they’d been in each other’s pockets for the past couple of weeks), and anything else was too emotionally dangerous to get into in a diner.
Monroe searched his mind for anything remotely innocuous to talk about and was relieved when Nick’s phone rang. He tossed Monroe an apologetic look as he answered.
“I’m sorry,” the waitress said to Monroe as Nick spoke on the phone. “We haven’t gotten our food shipment in for the day, so we don’t have any of the vegetables for your dish except for onions.”
Monroe sighed inwardly, welcoming himself back to civilization.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
“I’m sorry to intrude on your first full day back, but I thought you’d want to know,” Hank said apologetically.
“It’s fine,” Nick said, pulling out a pen and grabbing a napkin. It went unsaid that a Grimm’s work was never done, and frankly, he’d been gone longer than he really should have been, leaving Portland open to all sorts of Wesen misbehavior. “Give me the address.”
“We’ve already processed the place, and like I said, I’m not absolutely sure that it needs your particular expertise,” Hank said, obviously surrounded by other people. “So you don’t have to rush here. Finish eating, text me, and I’ll meet you.” He rattled off the address.
Nick repeated it for confirmation and said, “I’ll see you in an hour, tops.” He hung up just in time to watch Monroe slide from his side of the booth. “Where’re you going?”
“I’ll be right back. Just have to help out with something,” Monroe said with a slight smile.
Nick frowned, curious, but relaxed as the waitress gave him a refill, shooting him a quick smile before following Monroe into… wait, was he going into the kitchen? Nick leaned forward, watching Monroe speaking to a kid Nick assumed was the cook. Monroe started waving his hands around, but Nick could tell from his gestures that he was getting worked up in an excited way, like he did when he was talking about his clocks. Shrugging, Nick took a sip of his coffee, snagged Monroe’s napkin, and began making notes.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
“…and then you just spread it on top of the brown rice, and voila!” Monroe said, dividing the apples and onion sauté onto three plates.
“That was so easy,” Tony, the twenty-three year-old cook said, stunned. He took a bite from his plate. “And tasty!”
Monroe chuckled.
They’d had a moment at first when he realized that Tony was a Siegbarste, and Tony realized that Monroe was a Blutbad. It turned out that, like riding a bike, Monroe’s fast-talking was something that couldn’t be forgotten. He’d quickly explained that he was just there to help and that as far as he was concerned, they were just two dudes interested in making sure that none of the customers died of food poisoning.
After that, things got better, and Tony started opening up. Turned out his father, who owned the place, had forced him to take the cook’s job after the previous one had quit in a huff. Monroe was getting the feeling that it was one of those paternal attempts to teach his son responsibility. Personally, he’d have started with a waiting job, but Monroe wasn’t a father, so he decided he wasn’t in a place to judge.
Until he realized that beyond burgers and fries – which were both still kind of iffy – Tony was totally out of his element. So Monroe showed him a few things like how to multitask as the two waitresses shot orders at them. He also gave the kid a quick course on how to make Apples and Onions, a simple vegetarian dish using their available herbs and some the few fresh foods he spotted while they waited for their shipment. Monroe would’ve preferred fresh herbs as well but considered himself lucky that they had what he needed at all, if only dried in bottles.
Brenda had to run over to greet a couple of new customers, and Tony took the time to lean in and whisper, “It’s really tight back here. Sometimes I have a tough time concentrating on anything else.”
Monroe nodded, remembering that Siegbarstes as a general rule didn’t like feeling closed-in. “I know some breathing techniques that might be able to help…” He quickly ran through a brief breathing exercise and had time for Tony to try it a few times before Brenda returned with three new orders. After a panicked look from Tony, Monroe sighed, nudged Tony to the side, and threw a couple of hamburger patties on the grill.
Eventually, he handed the spatula back to Tony and grabbed his plate, leaving the kitchen as Brenda, his waitress, dug into the plate Monroe had made for her.
“Sorry about that,” Monroe said, sliding back into his seat and putting down his plate. “The poor kid –” He stopped, staring at Nick’s empty plate. “How long was I back there?”
“About twenty minutes,” Nick said, taking a sip of his water.
“Man, I’m sorry,” Monroe muttered.
“No, it was interesting watching you work,” Nick said with a smile. “Kind of like getting a show with my meal.”
Monroe grinned, digging into his food. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry, and Tony was right; he did make a mean Apples and Onions.
Nick pushed a napkin over to Monroe. “So I made a list of everything I could think of that you probably want to do over the next few days. I’m sure you’re going to have more you want to add and probably some you want to take off, but I figured it was a good starting point.” He tilted his head toward Monroe’s hands. “How are the fingers?”
Monroe had been trying to avoid looking at his hands. His fingertips looked strange without nails, and he could tell that Tony had been aching to ask what had happened when he noticed them as Monroe washed his hands before starting to cook. He shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “They don’t really hurt; they’re just really, really sensitive.”
“You think they’re going to grow back?”
Monroe paused, his fork in midair. “I hope so.” He didn’t say anything about the fact that he hadn’t been able to tamp into his Blutbad self, because he just couldn’t go there. Saying it out loud made it real.
Entry with links to each chapter
