Title: when I'm not with you
Author: Phnx
Fandom: Grimm (NBC)
Ship: Sean Renard / Nick Burkhardt; Monroe / Rosalee Calvert
Prompt: Accidently wrote March when I meant to write February. March Prompts: fresh starts | “what are you doing with that” | florist/tattoo artist | phone sex | major character death | Take Care - Drake
Summary: When Nick learns that Monroe's wild ex is back in town, that's the least of his problems, because Kelly Burkhardt has heard about the uptick in Blutbad activity, too, and she's going in armed. {AU where Nick was raised Grimmly by Kelly and Marie after the car accident.}



Nick listens to the voicemail silently. As soon as the message ends, he deletes it, as he always does, but the words are seared into his mind, for better or for worse.

Nicky. I’ve got word of some Blutbaden in Portland. I’m heading over there now. It shouldn’t take long, and I’ll be able to rendez-vous with you in a few days in Seattle to handle your Ziegevolk problem. See you soon.

For such a short message, there’s a lot in it for him to react to.

Your Ziegevolk problem, because he isn’t good enough to handle a simple problem on his own, so he needs his mother to swoop in and save him—never mind that he’s dealing with a full-scale operation, here, and a single person can’t possibly bring down the entire group.

Heading over there now, because of course Kelly Burkhardt hadn’t been delayed by the veritable city of Wendigo she’d encountered just yesterday in Wyoming.

In a few days, because she expects to find more serious problems on her drive from Portland to Seattle than making up for her son’s incompetence.

But what his mind is really stuck on is Blutbaden in Portland, because Portland is where Monroe lived.

---

Monroe wasn’t the first Wesen Nick had encountered—far from it. After the death of his father, Nick had been brought fully into the Grimm fold, first as a Kehrseite-Schliche-kennen who carried the crossbow bolts and the chains, and then as a Grimm himself, when the trauma of the life caught up with him. He grew up training in every weapon his mother and aunt could get their hands on, and his home-schooling was focused more on the vulnerabilities of different Wesen than on algebra or U.S. history; it was a miracle he even got his GED when he turned 18.

“Congratulations,” said Marie when he told them he’d passed the test. She was smiling, but her eyes were sad.

“Why did you bother?” asked Kelly. “You won’t need a Kehrseite job. We have other sources of income, you know.”

“I know,” said Nick, and he quietly stored his new diploma away.

So Nick had encountered a lot of Wesen over the years, but they rarely survived the encounter for long.

And none of them had been like Monroe.

Kelly Burkhardt and Marie Kessler didn’t precisely divide Wesen into “good” and “bad” categories, but they did rank them by difficulty of removal—a combination of different Wesen’s offensive and defensive capabilities, and maybe a little side of generationally inherited spite—and they were less likely to bother going out of the way to hunt Wesen who were weak enough for a Kehrseite to take down.

Blutbaden fell very definitively in the “hunt immediately” category. They were fast, they were strong, they were smart, and they were vicious.

“If it’s close enough to talk to you, you let it too close,” Kelly would tell him. “Use ranged weapons whenever possible, and if you do mess up and let it in range, then keep your eyes on those claws and fangs.”

Nick met Monroe on a rainy, miserable day when he hand-delivered his father’s old watch to the man that various online forums assured him could fix anything that ran on clockwork. Monroe invited him inside, brimming with excitement at the antique he’d get to play with, and Nick caught sight of his woge from behind when Monroe was pouring him fresh, organic coffee.

Is this too close? Nick wondered, as Monroe efficiently took the watch apart, all the while expounding on the advantages of a vegetarian diet and quinoa in particular. Monroe’s hands weren’t clawed—his nails were tidy and clean, and his fingers were careful and precise as they manipulated the delicate gears.

“Ah, here we go,” Monroe said. “Yikes, jeez. Sorry, man, there’s no fixing this part. I can source a replacement, but it’ll cost.”

“I can pay,” Nick promised. “I really appreciate this. This watch has a lot of sentimental value for me, and I was starting to give up on ever getting it fixed.”

“It’s no trouble—not that I wouldn’t go through some trouble for this beauty.”

They negotiated a price and a timeline, and as Nick headed out the door, Monroe said, “Oh, hey, you’re not from here, right? If you’re going to be staying in town for a while, you should stay away from Parkrose. Some shit has been going down there, lately.”

Nick hesitated. That warning had been a kindness, and an unexpected one. “The Schakal pack, right?”

Monroe woged, and Nick met his eyes.

(”How do they know what we are?” a fifteen-year-old Nick had asked Kelly. “Do we have a woge, too?”

“No,” said Kelly. “They just know. They see us see them, and they know.”)

Monroe jerked backward, crashing into his wall and knocking down his coat tree.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Nick, his hands raised, palms out. “Sorry, I just—sorry!”

“You’re here for the Schakals?” asked Monroe through his fangs.

“No, I’m here for the watch,” said Nick, confused.

They stared at each other for a while, Nick’s hands still up, Monroe still woged out.

Finally, Monroe asked, “Lunch?”

In the intervening years since that meeting, Nick has learned that Monroe is a history buff, Monroe is a great cook, Monroe is a total dork, and Monroe is a kind person. Monroe can also tear a human’s throat out with his teeth, but then, can’t Nick do that as well?

And when Nick ran into trouble dealing with a human trafficking ring run by a group of Siegelvolk, when his mother and aunt delayed on providing aid because the perceived the risk to Nick to be acceptably low, it was Monroe and his other Wesen friends in Portland who gave him the information and the local connections to bring down the ring.

A danger is coming to those friends that may be greater than anything they’ve ever faced before, and Nick isn’t sure that he can save them.

Monroe doesn’t pick up his phone, though Nick calls it three times. He doesn’t dare to leave a voicemail. Rosalee doesn’t pick up, either, but—

“Bud!” Nick exclaims with relief when the line connects.

“Nick! Hey, things are a little hectic at the moment—”

“Monroe and Rosalee aren’t answering their phones—is that related?”

“Probably, probably. Monroe’s ex showed up, and things got a little tense, you know, and she’s kind of a traditionalist, if you know what I mean, and—”

Nick grimaces. “Well, they’ve attracted the attention of a Grimm.”

“Sure, but things will calm down once—”

“A Grimm other than me, Bud,” Nick clarifies through gritted teeth.

Bud’s rambling pulls to a sudden halt. Then, “A—a Grimm other than you?”

“Yes, Bud. She’s only planning to be there a few days, and I don’t think she’ll go out of her way to look for your lodge, but stay out of her way, whatever you do. Keep the kids home from school if you can. I’m heading in now to help, but—” Nick’s throat closes for a moment, and he clears it uncomfortably. “But she’s better than me. If it comes to a fight, I don’t think I’ll win.”

“I—I understand. I’ll let everyone know, Nick. And I’ll find a way to get the message to Monroe and Rosalee.” Nick has never heard Bud sound so coherent before. He hopes it isn’t the last time they speak.

“I hope to see you soon. Be safe,” Nick says, and hangs up. Nick looks down at the briefcase full of toads and sighs, picking it up. He’s realistically done as much clean up here as he can, and he doesn’t have time to waste, anyway. He may be much closer to Portland than Kelly is, but his station wagon is weighed down by the trailer, and Kelly’s SUV will be cruising the interstates at 90 mph to his 50. Anyway, he needs to get there well in advance of her arrival, and she has a head start. He tucks the briefcase into the trailer and locks up, getting ready for the drive.

---

Nick leaves the trailer in an old RV park and circles around Portland, looking for signs of what may have attracted Kelly’s attention. Monroe isn’t home, and the spice shop is closed, but Bud has called with another update.

“Rosalee is staying with her mother,” Bud tells him. “She thinks Monroe’s phone might be damaged. She’s worried about him, but this plan is the only one they could come up with to take down Angelina.”

“Angelina?” Nick asked, scanning reflexively over the crowds out of the cafe window as he waited for the barista to make him his overpriced coffee. He should have just gone to the cafe down the street, where he only would have had to sacrifice his firstborn child for a brew rather than half the kingdom as well, but he’d been put off by the lines of people pouring at the door.

“She’s Monroe’s ex-girlfriend. A real nasty piece of work, that’s what the wife said. Still goes hunting Kehrseite, and not just on full moons. And she rides her motorcycle at all hours of night, and I don’t know how anyone is expected to sleep through—”

“Thanks, Bud,” says Nick hurriedly. “What’s this plan?”

“Monroe’s going to pretend to go along with her, and then he’ll attack her instead of the Kehrseite when he gets the chance.”

Nick closes his eyes. “...Is that really the best idea they could come up with?”

“Angelina wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she knows where Monroe lives. She’s tough—she hasn’t been building her muscle from pilates and quinoa, if you know what I mean.”

Nick bites back a sigh. “Okay. Do you have any idea where they’ve gone?.”

“No, but those motorcycles aren’t subtle. I’ll ask around. We’ll figure it out soon.”

“I hope so.” Nick hears his pseudonym called, and he collects his coffee with a smile. “I don’t know when Kelly’s due in, but it can’t be long now. We don’t want to give her the excuse to snoop around.”

“Kelly? Is that the Grimm?” Bud laughs nervously. “Not Kelly Kessler, right? That would be crazy.”

“Yeah.” Nick carries his coffee back to the cafe window. In the crowded streets, he sees faces flicker as they rush by. They don’t look like unrepenting monsters. They look like people just living their lives. “You’ve heard of her?”

“...Nick, you’re not serious, are you? Kelly Kessler? That’s the Grimm? Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy—”

“Bud? What’s the big deal about it being Kelly Kessler?” There a Hexenbiest, there a Fuchsbau, there a Seelengut. All just normal people.

“She’s one of the most notorious Grimms alive! She’s a total monster, Nick, she’s not like—oh my god, no wonder you warned us about her coming.”

Nick looks away from the window. “Yeah,” he says. “So stay careful. Stay out of sight.”

“I’ll talk to the wife again,” says Bud. “She needs to hear this. Later, Nick.”

“Later,” agrees Nick tonelessly as the call disconnects. If there is a later.

“Kelly Kessler,” says a voice behind him. It’s a light voice—friendly and warm. Nick turns and finds himself looking up—a very tall man, then, and one wearing the kind of suit that suggests he had no trouble pulling up the funds for his nation-breaking coffee. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Though, if I recall correctly, she goes by Kelly Burkhardt, these days.”

“That’s right,” Nick tells him, because it’s no secret. “You’re Kehrseite-Schliche-kennen?”

“I’m in the know,” the other man agrees. “Sean Renard.” He pulls open his coat to display his badge and, incidentally, his sidearm. “Portland PD. And you are?”

Nick hesitates, then says, “Nick Burkhardt.”

Renard’s eyebrows shoot up. “I see. And what brings you to my city, Mr. Burkhardt?”

Nick has met actual royalty who ooze less possessiveness over their territory than this police captain is over his city. It should put him off, but somehow, Nick finds it charming. “I’m here to make sure my mother only goes after people who deserve it.”

“And who says who deserves it?”

Nick doesn’t have an answer for that. He looks back at the window at the distracted woges. “I just know that people who’ve never hurt anyone shouldn’t have to worry about a Grimm showing up at their door,” he says.

Renard looks at him in silence for a moment. “Mr. Burkhardt, I admire your commitment to justice,” he tells him. “As an officer of the law, I know all about its limitations, its misapplications, and even its intentional maliciousness. But I don’t think that the anarchy of the Wesen world is the best solution, either. I’ve been trying to advocate for a simple set of shared laws among Wesen communities, ones that will allow space for Wesen to uphold their traditions, but won’t allow any one community to face injury from another.”

“Is that really something for an outsider to determine?” asks Nick, side-eying him.

“Maybe not,” shrugs Renard. “But waiting for someone else to do it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.” He pauses as though for a reply, but when Nick remains silent, he adds, “I’d like to speak more with you on this topic, but that’s better saved for later.” He reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a card, elegantly embossed. “For now, I can help you find your Blutbaden friends.”

“What?” asked Nick, turning to face Renard fully. “How?”

“I’ve been having a team track the incident reports coming in. They’ve given me a fairly good idea as to the path the pack has taken.” Renard steps back and tilts his head. “Do you need a lift?”

Nick doesn’t. “Let me just grab some stuff from my car,” he tells Renard, who doesn’t even blink when Nick comes back with a suspicious black duffle.

Renard drives them to a small gas station on the outskirts of town where a team of cops are already assembled.

“They’re definitely here,” a uniformed officer confirms. He gives Nick a curious look and an easy smile, but Nick has the feeling that this man has already catalogued a worrying amount of information about him just from that quick glance. “They’ve settled in at a bar about a quarter mile up the road.”

“Thanks, Wu,” says Renard. “Who’s our man on the inside?”

“Detective Griffin,” says Wu at the same time that Nick says, “Monroe.”

They look at each other.

“Monroe is a civilian who has infiltrated the group,” Renard explains without missing a beat. “Griffin is at the bar posing as a customer.”

“Ah,” says Wu, raising his eyebrows.

“Our friend here is Nick Burkhardt, a combat specialist,” Renard continues, gesturing to Nick. “Based on our intel, I thought his skills might be needed.”

The officers seem to accept this easily enough, but Nick can’t imagine that this is standard procedure.

“Here’s the plan,” Renard announces. “Nick and I will go in first and try to bring the group in peacefully, with Detective Griffin there to act as immediate backup. For now, I want all of you cutting off all access points—this gang is dangerous, and I don’t want any of them escaping to hurt more people.”

Nick has to suppress a shudder at the way Renard’s voice darkens as he speaks. The officers nod somberly, even though Renard’s plan is absolutely batshit. There’s something about the way Renard speaks that’s almost hypnotic. Everything he says sounds rational, as though it’s totally reasonable to let a random unknown join their team and to send the captain in basically unprotected. Who is this Sean Renard guy?

“Let’s go,” Renard tells Nick, who hefts his duffle and follows Renard back to his car.

Once they’re out of sight of the team, Nick crouches in the seat to unzip the duffle and arm up. With one on the road, Renard watches the knives and guns disappear onto Nick’s person without comment, but his eyebrows go up when Nick finally pulls out a studded bat and rests it on his lap. “What are you doing with that?”

Nick looks at him. “What do you think?”

“Fair enough,” says Renard evenly. “Are you ready?” They’re approaching the bar.

Nod nods.

“I was serious before.” Renard adds. “We’re going to try to deescalate first. If you can—”

“It’s a little late for that,” Nick interrupts, tilting his head to one side. “The fight has already broken out. It sounds like Detective Griffin has joined in, too.”

Renard turns to stare at him. “You can hear that from this far away?”

Nick shrugs. “Watch the road, Renard.”

They pull into the parking lot, and Renard has barely slid to a stop when Nick jumps out of the car and jogs into the bar.

It’s a full-on brawl inside, with fallen bodies strewn across the floor and glasses flying through the air. Nick dives into his first close-quarters fight against Blutbaden already swinging.

“If it’s close enough to talk to you, you let it too close,” Kelly had said.

This, Nick reflects, is definitely too close.

There were maybe twenty participants in the fight, seven of them Blutbaden, which is more than Nick hoped would be here, but fewer than he expected. Of the Kehrseite combatants, only three are still fighting, and they’re joined by one of the Blutbaden.

“Monroe, incoming,” Nick warns, mostly so that Monroe doesn’t try to attack him, too, as he weaves his way through the Blutbaden and they fall around him.

“Use ranged weapons whenever possible, and if you do mess up and let it in range, then keep your eyes on those claws and fangs.”

The fangs end up being a bigger problem than the claws, really. Blutbaden have powerful jaws, and getting caught by them just once would be a serious issue, but it’s easy enough to dodge the wildly swinging claws or redirect them toward a foe. All told, the battle is easier than he expected, and it isn’t long before he’s sheathing his knife and leaning on his bat.

“You okay?” he asks Monroe.

Monroe stares at him, wide-eyed, as do the conscious Kehrseite around him. “Uh. Holy shit, Nick?”

“What?” asks Nick, frowning.

Renard clears his throat from the door. “Detective Griffin, if you could call in the other officers, we’ll get our friends here secured.” He pauses delicately. “They are alive, right?” he asks, not making eye contact with Nick.

“Yes,” Nick snaps back, offended.

“Right. Good.” Renard tugs at his shirt collar uncomfortably. “We’ll need a medic team, and we’ll need to take witness statements when everyone wakes up.”

“Yes, sir,” answers the Kehrseite who must be Detective Griffin. When he stands up to his full height, he’s huge, and Nick wonders briefly what’s in the water in Portland.

His phone buzzes, and he pulls away from the group. “Burkhardt,” he greets.

“Nick!” It’s Rosalee, and she sounds panicked. Nick freezes. “I heard from Bud—Kelly Kessler is coming to Portland?”

Nick exhales slowly. “Yeah. But we’re going to handle this. I’ve got Monroe with me now, and he’s okay. We’ll head back home now.”

“We need your statements,” argues Detective Griffin, but Renard says, “We’ll get them later. I know where to find them; I’m their ride, anyway. Nick will try to stay in town.”

Detective Griffin mouths ‘try?’ disbelievingly.

Finally, someone who isn’t fully hypnotized by Renard. Nick rolls his eyes at Detective Griffin, shrugging, and the other man shoots him a little grin.

“Nick, Monroe, I’ll drop you both off by Nick’s car,” Renard offers solicitously, and although Nick expects the return journey to be a polite interrogation, it’s mostly silent, with Monroe in the backseat staring between Nick and Renard with wide eyes.

“Nick,” Renard tells him when he pulls to a stop by Nick’s car, which thankfully hasn’t been towed yet, though it has been ticketed. “Remember what we discussed before. Call me. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.” He glances at the ticket under Nick’s windshield and says, “Give me that—I’ll handle it.”

Monroe’s jaw drops open as Nick hands the ticket over. “Call him like for a date?” he asks Nick.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Renard calls back with a smirk. “You should come by my place. I’m a great cook, you know.”

“I’ll call you,” Nick promises, dragging Monroe into the station wagon before he can dig them in any deeper.

“Dude,” says Monroe. “Are you really going to call him? I mean, I guess I can see the appeal, but him just promising to disappear tickets and witness statements is super suspicious.”

“He was joking about the date, Monroe,” Nick sighs, shifting gears and pulling out of the space. “And yeah, he’s extremely suspicious. He has some sort of huge plan in the works to organize a government or something for Wesen, at least locally.”

“Damn.” Monroe looks over at him from behind his bruised face, which is already starting to heal. “And he’s trying to seduce a Grimm to his side to be his enforcer.”

Nick winces. “Probably yes, though again, this is a metaphorical seduction.”

“Sure, Nick,” Monroe agrees peaceably. “I definitely didn’t see him checking you out this whole time.”

“You definitely didn’t,” Nick says firmly, because believing anything else would be a road to madness. “Where should I drop you off? Maybe you should stay at the spice shop tonight.”

“My house should be fine now that Angelina and her pack are locked up.”

Nick frowns doubtfully. “You’re pretty well-known in the Wesen community as a local Blutbad, and Kelly is coming here specifically looking for Blutbaden starting trouble.”

Monroe raises his eyebrows. “Well, I won’t be starting trouble, will I? Someone would have to be looking for me specifically to bother finding my address.”

“I guess.” That’s likely true, Nick considers. Kelly will be looking for crime reports and social media posts about disturbances and strange behavior. She won’t be looking for random suburban clock repair people whose most suspicious behavior is how much quinoa they go through every week. “You’re the first person I’ve told who hasn’t freaked out about Kelly Kessler coming to town, by the way,” Nick says, his mother’s maiden name sitting strangely on his tongue. “Even Renard seemed a little touchy about it.”

“Holy—Kelly Kessler?”

“There we go,” Nick muses, and he settles in to listen to Monroe’s increasingly hysterical account of every one of Kelly Kessler’s famous slaughters.

Monroe is still going strong when Nick drops him off at his house. “Are you sure you’ll be fine here?” asks Nick seriously.

“No where in Portland is safe,” Monroe says blankly before stumbling out of the car and into his house.

Theatrics aside, he’s probably right. Nick pulls out of the driveway feeling cold. He still hasn’t decided how to handle this confrontation, other than to assure Kelly that the problem has been taken care of and that they’re free to leave. He hopes that will be enough.

It’s dark when he arrives at the trailer park, and he slows as he drives past the empty RVs, looking around. There’s a sense of something dangerous in the air, and it’s only when he arrives at the family trailer and sees a light on inside that he is certain what it is.

He knocks before he enters. “Mom,” he greets. He looks around and adds, “Aunt Marie.”

“Nicky,” Kelly says. She doesn’t stand, but Marie does, and she comes over to give Nick a hug. “Good work with those Blutbaden.”

Nick stiffens in Marie’s hold, and she pats him on the arm as she pulls away.

“Though I noticed you missed one.” Kelly looks at him dead-on. She’s still dressed in combat gear, Nick notices.

But then, so is he.

“No, I didn’t,” Nick replies evenly. “I had a friend who’s a Wieder Blutbad infiltrate the group. He was even injured protecting Kehrseite tonight.”

“Then it will be easier to take him out.”

Nick shifts on his feet, incidentally placing him more fully in front of the door. “I suppose it would, but we’re not going to do that.”

“Nicky—”

Marie interrupts. “Kelly.”

Kelly grinds to a startled halt.

“We have bigger priorities than kicking up dirt over one ‘Wieder’ Blutbad,” Marie continues. “We’ll have this conversation again when he turns back to his roots.”

“If,” Nick corrects through his teeth. “And he won’t.”

“Anyway,” says Marie pointedly when Kelly bristles, “tell us about Seattle, Nick.”

Nick does. He describes how he investigated the trafficking ring, how he dismantled its support structure, and how he poisoned toads to make its Ziegefolk leaders impotent.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Kelly frowns, distracted.

“I had help from a friend of mine,” Nick tells them.

“Another ‘Wieder’ Blutbad?” asks Marie.

“No.” Nick hesitates for a long moment. “A fuchsbau.”

The two sisters exchange glances, communicating silently. “As your aunt said, we have bigger priorities than hunting down anything not currently causing any problems,” Kelly says finally.

Nick relaxes very slightly. “Mom,” he says quietly, “Aunt Marie. They really are my friends. My best friends. They help me when I need it, they cook for me, they let me crash with them. You remember the thing with the Jinnamuru Xunte? They’re the ones who helped me take him down, they’re the ones who researched and mixed the medicine that saved my sight. I’ve seen as well as you have the kind of terrors Wesen can commit. But not everyone is like that.”

After a stiff moment, Marie says, “Then I guess we owe your friends a thank you.”

“Portland is a strange city,” muses Kelly, changing the subject abruptly. She’d taken the news about Nick’s near-death at the hands of the Jinnamuru Xunte poorly at the time; it had been one of the only times Nick had ever seen her cry. “I heard there’s even a Renard here.”

“Sean Renard,” Nick confirms. “I met him. Weird guy. He wants to build a Wesen governing body or something.”

Marie and Kelly stare at him.

Nick shrugs uncomfortably. “He was strongly hinting that he wants me involved. Monroe said he’s trying to seduce me into being his enforcer.”

“Grimms have a long history of taking on that kind of role alongside the royals,” says Marie after a moment. “And I suppose that having some kind of shared, recognized laws could be a good thing.”

“...Seduce?” asks Kelly. “Excuse me?”

“Monroe’s word,” Nick hurries to assure her. “Renard was definitely joking when he said he was open to dating me.” From their expressions, they don’t believe him, and maybe that’s in part because they haven’t actually met the strange, commanding man. “Do you think he wants to recreate the royalty here in Portland, then? Is that his goal?”

“It’s not such a big leap of the imagination,” says Kelly dryly, “given that he’s the illegitimate son of Frederick Renard, the king.”

“He’s what?”

“Make sure you learn everything you can about him before you fully consider his preposition,” cautions Marie. She adds pointedly, “Either preposition.”

“It was definitely a joke,” Nick repeats distantly.

Nick had been planning to sleep in the trailer, but with all three of them here, it would be a tight fit. They stay the night in a nearby motel instead, and it isn’t until the next morning over breakfast that they exchange full updates on their recent hunts.

Marie is explaining how she joined up with Kelly when they hear a voice cry out, “Nick!”

Nick, facing away from the voice, winces, but Bud is hovering beside their table before Nick has a chance to decide what to do.

Bud, in his typical nervous way, is flickering, fur blossoming around his neck and jaw one moment and then fading the next, but he’s too fixated on Nick to notice anything about the other two people at the table and any reactions they may have. “Nick, I’m so glad I ran into you! I heard from Monroe and Rosalee that everything was settled last night, and I’m so relieved, I can’t even tell you, and the wife told me I was being ridiculous, because of course you’d get everything fixed up, but I couldn’t help worrying, you know, and the kids kept having nightmares about Blutbaden coming after them, and you know I might have had a bad dream or two myself, I don’t mind telling you, and—”

“Bud—”

“—and I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast with these lovely ladies, I just wanted to give this to you.” Seemingly from nowhere, Bud produced a classic woven picnic basket. “The wife made the quilt and the pies—she thought you might not have known the weather would be turning, and you might not be prepared for the cold, and of course you can never have too much pie, you know the wife makes the best pie—”

“Thanks, Bud,” Nick says hurriedly. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“The quilt is lovely,” says Marie. “This is one of your friends, Nicky?”

Bud lets loose an anxious woge right as he looks over at Kelly and Marie, and whatever he sees on their faces makes him pale and jolt backward. Nick stands quickly to catch him and helps him into the chair beside him.

“Yes, this is my good friend, Bud,” Nick tells her. “Bud, this is my mom and my aunt.”

“Oh,” says Bud, relaxing a little. “Oh. That’s good. That’s good, right?”

“We came to town for business, but it seems Nicky took care of it before we arrived,” Kelly tells him briskly. “Now we’re just here to see him.” She leans across the table, her hand extended. “Kelly Burkhardt,” she says.

“Kelly… Burkhardt,” repeats Bud blankly.

“And I’m Kelly’s sister and Nicky’s aunt, Marie Kessler,” says Marie, smiling at Bud a little.

“Kess…ler…”

“I can see why Nick likes you,” Kelly tells him, grinning suddenly. “I’d like anyone who made me pie and quilts, too.”

“We can make you pie! And quilts!” Bud blurts, and he tries to stand as though to acquire these pies and quilts instantly, but Nick places a hand around his shoulders to keep him in his seat.

“Anyway, we’re not worried about your friendship with a lodge of Eisbiebers,” Kelly says to Nick. “But I’m still not convinced about the Blutbad.”

“Oh, Monroe is alright,” Bud tells her thoughtlessly. “He and the wife do pilates together.”

The four of them consider that for a moment.

“Your wife is also an Eisbieber?” asks Kelly finally.

“Oh yes, she’s from a very old family, too, and you know, I never thought I had a chance with her back when we first met, but—”

“How charming,” says Marie, and she actually sounds sincere.

Kelly tosses back her coffee like it’s a shot. “Portland is such a weird city,” she tells Nick. “Are you really thinking of staying here?”

Bud looks like he can hardly contain his excitement at the idea.

“Yeah,” Nick says quietly. “I like it here. I like my friends here. And… I’m intrigued by Renard’s suggestions, though I’ll do my research, like you said.”

Kelly hums. “Just make sure you don’t accept any courtship gifts from him without running it by us, first,” she tells him.

“Courtship gifts?” gasps Bud.

“There’s no courtship,” sighs Nick. “And I’ll prove it right now.”

He pulls out the fancy card Renard had given him, and he types a quick text.

Renard, this is Burkhardt. I’m still thinking about your offer, and I’m open to more discussions. To be clear, you were joking about dating, right?

“See?” says Nick, turning his phone toward the rest of the table. “Now I’m sure that it’ll take a while for him to reply, but—”

“He already sent a message,” says Kelly. “It reads ‘Not even slightly joking. Dinner?’”

“Mom, come on, it does no—oh. It does say that.”

“I can’t wait to tell the family!” Bud enthuses. “Wow! The lodge will be so happy to hear that you found someone, Nick.”

“...Thanks,” Nick says hoarsely.

“Remember—no gifts,” Kelly tells him, standing. Marie stands, too, and the two come across the table to hug him tightly. “Nicky,” Kelly continues, “I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye, but I love you, and I trust you. I’ll leave this to you. But you know that you can always call us if you need help, and we’ll come.”

Nick reflects that, despite his frustration with his mother’s delay over the situation in Seattle, she had been on her way to him, even though he hadn’t, strictly speaking, requested her aid. “I know,” he whispers. “Thanks.”

“I love you, Nicky,” Marie tells him. “We’ll be in touch, and we’ll see you soon. And,” she looks up at him seriously, “I’m glad you’ve made such good friends.”

“Thanks, Aunt Marie.”

Bud and Nick watch the Kessler sisters leave, and then Bud turns to Nick to ask, “Does this mean I can send the kids back to school?”

“Yeah.” Nick looks back at him. “I’m sorry about all the trouble, Bud.”

“No, no, these things happen.” Bud tells him. “The kids’ll be so disappointed. The wife’ll be thrilled, though.”

Nick stays in the cafe a little longer after Bud leaves, his heart as full as the picnic basket resting at his feet. When he picks up his phone to leave, he sees that he has received another string of messages from Renard.

Tonight? You can come to my place and stay over. There’s no need for you to be camping out in hotels while you’re staying in my city.

Bring pyjamas

Or don’t

Your choice

Nick closes his eyes. What an ass this guy is, he thinks, but he’s smiling as he stands to leave.

Portland really is such a weird city. He thinks he could really love it here.