Prompt Challenge:

by adelindschade

Summary:

Challenge: 1000 words or less (+/- 100)
Edit: Challenge Failed. Word count: 1191
Prompt: Sexual Compatibility

A look into the insane chemistry between rivals-turned-lovers.
Smut suggested, not explicit. Fluff delivered.

Notes:

Challenge Failed. Word count: 1191

Edit: For background purposes, they still reside at the loft. (It’s big enough to renovate with other levels not in use.) Kelly and Diana are out of the master bedroom, in their own, preferably. NADALIND have the privacy they deserve.

Bonus Drabble: Adalind's thoughts on Nick's Clothing

Chapter 1: Prompt Challenge: Sexual Compatibility + Bonus Drabble: T-Shirt

Nick and Adalind were very physical, expressive individuals. More so, they both had very dominant personalities.

The result?

Spectacular sex.

Nick himself was quite covert about his bedroom habits. He preferred to keep that private. When his Grimm abilities came about, his habits intensified, and while Juliette was someone he loved and cherished, it was evident the sexual compatibility of that relationship had irreparably shifted. She had trouble satisfying his vigorous stamina and he had to be careful not to take it too far, fearful he may harm her. He never said anything but in retrospect, he could come to terms there were some aspects of that relationship, abet physically, that was undoubtedly biased.

Adalind, on the other hand, was an energetic lover who was always up for a challenge. Granted, she was flippantly crass about her sexual habits, had years to discover what she liked and what she didn’t, and had no issue doing some things that others would have shied away from while not the least bit afraid to tell Nick off if something was off-limits.

Like hair pulling.

That was an absolute no-no.

For someone open to just about anything, she was very sensitive about her scalp.

He was happy to oblige and even made an effort to massage it after an exhausting round, a gesture she told him to never, ever stop doing. If she wasn’t already fatigued, the small gesture would lull her asleep, contently so, on his bare chest.

When they first started engaging in intimacy on a regular basis, it was an exciting new venture. He enjoyed exploring new territories with a lover who surprisingly kept up with his demands. In return, she could depend on him to be very observant to her needs, and eager to listen to her instructions. Certain ticks set them off – like how she tended to dig into his shoulders a bit too rough, leaving bruises, or his habit of nipping (and leaving marks). Yet, such ticks stoked them further, and left them utterly exhausted after a couple rounds.

As time progressed, the pair forewent routine, an aspect of their love life that continued to spark a new excitement in their budding relationship. Still, some things remained, as it often succeeded in ensuring both were spent afterwards.

Adalind liked to tease entirely way too much. A pout in her lips, a glint in her eyes, and a not-so-innocent flash of flesh usually ignited a round of passionate lovemaking. She also liked to vocalize. A lot. Whether through sly remarks that had double meaning – never missed by Nick – or through unbashful texts that would terrorize his psyche for the rest of day. She was very clear in her intention and he could rely on her to keep her promise when he eventually got home.

Dirty-talk was something Nick never thought he’d enjoy. Too crass.

Adalind changed that entirely.

Even though she complained of having to change her outfit to hide the marks, they both were very aware she thoroughly enjoyed the occasional hickey, or rather, the act of it before said-spot became visible to the human eye. He had no intention of changing that fact. (Nick especially enjoyed the sounds she made, incentivizing him more).

He had his own hints that she was quite receptive to. Nick was a physical person and he was not reserved about touch. Whether it was a hand at the base of her spine, a stroke of thumb on her forearm or wrist, or a squeeze of her thigh or knee. His method was a bit more covert than hers, but she could translate his motives easily.

There were moments she took it up a notice, guiding his hand further up – the most emboldened attempt being under the table of a cozy restaurant, tucked away in the corner. After a hushed reprimanding, she was not the least bit deterred, and he was even more eager to continue where they left off as soon they cut the dinner abruptly short.

The more incessant the touch, the needier he was, she observed. There were moments personal bubbles didn’t exist. He would be in constant contact, to the point spectators would think he was possessive. Nick could be a saint with his patience sometimes, but it was not his strongest virtue. It was apparent whenever his patience waned. He’d become testy, more sarcastic than usual, toy with the nearest gadget, and subconsciously eye the closest exit while not-so subtly suggesting to Adalind (or the general audience) about timely manners. She knew how to exit promptly (and covertly), much to his relief.

Reprimanding him for his impatience was unproductive. Such words fell on deaf ears.

She also learned the longer he held off, two things came about: One, Nick didn’t mind venturing outside the bedroom – or the loft, a discovery that genuinely (but pleasantly surprised) Adalind. Two, he wasn’t opposed to being rough – something she happily encouraged.  She wasn’t delicate, and she didn’t know how many times she had to convince him of that fact.

Sometimes Adalind purposely delayed him just to see how far she could push his control. She was quite satisfied with the results, even though most of time she too sore to do anything other than walk afterwards. Nick, then of course, doted on her – another endearing trait of his.  

He knew she would be close when she started to get short of breath and her legs would tremble. She knew he was almost done for when he squeezed her tightly, holding on for dear life. Sometimes too tight, leaving behind a reddened imprint. She bore the mark proudly.

After both were utterly drained, post-coitus cuddling was mutually sought. Nick was the usual instigator. Adalind liked the proximity – cradled under his chin, fingertips tracing her sensitive spots, and the husk of his voice – all relaxed her to the point she didn’t realize she was falling asleep. He enjoyed the sensation of her warmth, her shape molding with his, and the scent of her shampoo under his nose. She was so easy to envelop and he never tired of her skin – soft to the touch and pleasant to smell.

 While the sex itself was mind-blowing good, Nick found himself just as enamored with the way she bit her lip – either to stop herself from laughing at some cliché he said, or out of habit when she was at a loss of words, one of her quirks that drove him insane. Her eyes were hard to pull away from. Most of the time, they were closed, but they had moments where she’d be bright-eyed and alert, and he wondered if they were always that color of dark-blue. He adored the fact they were always look at him, attentive.

They’d share moments of rest – just for a minute or two – and they’d be so close, he could feel her breath on his cheek, or the ghostly nudge of her nose against his. Years ago, he’d never imagine they’d be at this level. What started as contention turned into something else entirely, when she dramatically shifted from rival to life-long companion.

Nick wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Bonus Feature!

Mini Prompt: T-Shirt

 

 Nick confused her.

For her entire life, her mother had always pressed upon her to be presentable. That men liked when women package themselves in a certain way. So, she did. From form-fitting skirts, expensive blow outs, killer heels, to sultry lingerie, Adalind had taken every measure to look the part – at least, the part her mother instructed her to be, to gain the attention of men her mother approved.

Some habits die hard. Even when she settled into comfortable domesticity with Nick, a man her mother most certainly would have never approved of, she still found herself taking extra measures to appeal to his basic instincts.

She should’ve known better.

There was no denying she was attractive. She could count on that. So, when she put herself on display in a silky-number, she got the expected result. Even if the material only lasted five minutes before the overpriced robe was thrown aside for the rest of the night.

However, when he caught her unexpectedly late one night in his faded blue shirt (his ‘rookie’ shirt), the comfortable one that fit her poorly, she didn’t expect him to react the way he did.

Nick was fixated. He kept finding any excuse to tug at the hems, something he did when he encircled his arms around her waist. At first, she wondered if he was trying to tell her to take it off, that he wanted it back, but when she attempted to tug it off, he looked offended. He assured her – more like insisted – to keep it on.

She felt like a mess. Her hair was ruffled, combed only by her anxious fingers as she finished up her workload. She had no color on her face at all and she probably looked paler than a ghost. Her legs were halfway covered by socks, keeping her warm when it was chillier than usual.

Yet, his fingers ghosted over the hem of that shirt, mid-thigh, and giving her a look that made her wonder if he was amused or aroused, or both.

He kept her close that night, her back pressed against his chest. His arm locked around her waist and she felt hotter than ever before.

She noticed a trend. The next week she did something similar. She was out of options to wear when she put in a load of laundry too late. So, to keep warm, she commandeered Nick’s zip-up. It smelled like his latest run and she found the scent comforting. He was working later than usual on a triple-homicide and small pleasures like his natural aroma helped a lot.

He discovered her reading in bed, snug in his sweatshirt. It came down mid-thigh, but she wore leggings for extra warmth underneath.

At least her hair was smooth that time.

Again, he seemed obsessed with the piece of clothing. He made a comment about how comfortable she looked in it. The subtext went over her head but her affirmation that, yes, it was very comfortable, and that she liked how it smelled like him, brought a beaming smile to his face.

He hugged her from behind, enclosing her with both arms, and they slept soundly like that. She recounted it was one of the best nights of sleep she had. Adalind wasn’t sure if it was the sweatshirt, Nick, or a combination of both.

She remembered when they first moved in, he wasn’t as keen on her wearing his clothes. He even insisted she go shopping with his card to buy her own clothes. After they crossed that line of intimacy, his attitude changed one-eighty.

Weird. She knew his comfortability of her wearing his shirts was just another indicator their relationship had evolved. She just didn’t know the meaning behind it. So, she asked. Abet, it was another night, in another shirt.

It was too dark to see his expression, too late for either of them to be up, but Adalind had to ask.

“Why do you act so weird when I wear your shirts?”

He was genuinely alarmed. She could hear it in his voice.

“Weird?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “like cuddlier than usual. Don’t get me wrong, I like it a lot. I just don’t get it. You didn’t like it when I wore them before.”

“Because we weren’t together then,” Nick replied. His hold tightened, molding them closer together.

“I still don’t get it,” Adalind continued. “What’s the difference? Why wasn’t it okay then and why do you like it now?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes!”

She could feel his chest vibrate. He was laughing at her!

“For someone who went to law school, you can be really dense,” he chuckled. Her brows furrowed, even more confused.

“Hey!” She snapped.

He shook his head and kissed her temple.

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” he started. “It’s a turn-on.”

“I get that,” she retorted, “but how? Half your clothes don’t flatter me.”

“I disagree,” he replied. “I think you look hot in them.” He yawned.

Her eyes widened. “What’s the appeal?? All of them are way too big for me.”

“First of all,” he began, “you can wear just about anything and still look good. Second, it’s flattering to know you appreciate me enough to steal my clothes. Third, wearing my clothes is an indicator you’re comfortable in this relationship, and that tells me we’re in a good place. It’s reassuring. Finally, and this is going to sound bad, so please don’t hit me, but from a guy’s standpoint, having their girlfriend wear their sweatshirt is like a universal sign to everyone else, saying ‘off-limits’.”

“So…” she mused, nodding slowly, “it’s like… a possessive issue…” she fumbled her word.

 “Not really… kind of… I really don’t know,” he sighed. “At the end of the day,” he mumbled against her shoulder, “I really like it when you wear my stuff and I would like it if you continue to do that.”

“Okay,” she obliged. She found herself smiling.

She could feel him smile against the fabric of her skin, too.

Chapter 2: Prompt Challenge: Childhood + Parenting

Summary:

Speculation and Introspection of their upbringing and how it reflected the way they raised their kids

Challenge: 2000 words or less (+/- 100)  

                Challenge: Success! 1923 words!

Prompt: Childhood + Parenting

 

Nick had managed to suppress the void as he matured, ignoring the grief he felt when he lost his father at such a young age. At least he had some memories of the late Reed Burkhardt, which was more than what Adalind could say about the estranged Henry Schade.

Much like he, she also suppressed her feelings though he knew better than to believe she truly overcame them. There were moments he could see past her façade, when her anxiety elevated to point of irrationality, that reminded Nick even decades couldn’t heal the scars of neglect and abandonment.

The only thing he could do was assure Adalind that their son and Diana would never be subjected to the same betrayal she was, and she would never have to worry about him walking out. Once he made a promise, he saw it through. More so, he wasn’t one to let go easily, and he wouldn’t let anyone sabotage his family without one hell of a fight.

At least he could say his father left involuntarily. He didn’t leave on his own accord. He was taken away, violently, too. In retrospect, he could understand his mother’s reasoning to leaving after the accident. She wanted to protect her son in the only way she saw fit and more so, she succeeded. The distance hurt but Nick was blissfully ignorantly, unaware his mother voluntary kept her distance, out of genuine concern.

The same could not be said about Henry. Or the late Catherine.

Catherine did not care about her daughter’s psyche. Her moment of truth came when Adalind was at her most vulnerable and the elder Schade cast her away for disappointing her. She sacrificed her only daughter and that was the last exchange mother-and-daughter had. The betrayal from the only parent left in her life was still fresh and he could see it in how tender and attentive Adalind was to Diana. Adalind wanted to be so much different, to spare Diana from the disappointment she knew too well, and Nick praised her at every opportunity for being such a wonderful mom.

 

It was unfair for both of them to be deprived of consequential parental figures. Adalind still had a mother, abet, she wasn’t the best (understatement of the year). Nick loved his aunt Marie with every fiber in his being, but she could never replace the bond between son-and-mother that was abruptly and violently cut.

When Kelly was born, they both made resolutions to be better than what they grew up with. More so, the united front assuaged some of pre-existing tension between the two once-adversaries, and ultimately bonded the two souls in an unprecedented love-match neither could have foreseen. They broke barriers in their unlikely union and they were happy to break some more in how the raised their children.

Diana may not have been Nick’s by blood, but he’d loved that girl as much as he loved her mother. She was just as much his kid as Kelly was and Renard could pry that from his cold, dead hands. Hell, Adalind said it herself, she was more Burkhardt than Renard, granted Diana was primarily raised by the late-Kelly before adjusting to the Burkhardt-Schade household.

They started on a good note. Both adults were raised in a single parent/guardian household. The fact their children would grow up with two, coexisting, and loving parents was a great start.

Nick always knew he wanted to have a family of his own. He didn’t anticipate the events in which how his family came to be but, in all honesty, he didn’t regret it. He had a happy, healthy, and active little boy; a talented, spunky step-daughter; and eventually, when Adalind said yes to his proposal (after the second attempt – the first being spur of the moment between sheets, the second being the official question under the stars), a dependable, loving wife. In the most ironic sense, his family embodied the normalcy he always sought. The feeling was mutual, as Adalind herself expressed numerous times.

After those landmarks had been accomplished, they’re priorities to making sure their kids grew up right.

Now with a family at home, Nick mourned the evenings he wasn’t present. Work could be unpredictable, and he grew irritable if a case held him back an extra hour or two… or three. There’d be nights he’d come home late, dinner already finished, and kids tucked in bed. He’d sulk into the bedroom, sullen, where Adalind would reiterate the day for him. He made it his priority to know about the daily-goings of his family, never in the dark, and Adalind never spared details – something he appreciated.

If there was one thing he appreciated more than anything, it was Adalind’s ability to ‘hold down the fort’ in his absence. She was the household rock. He didn’t know how he could have done it without her. His respect for her grew exponentially and he was eternally grateful for the stability she brought.

When the days were quiet, and he could escape the desk before the sun set, he’d race home to help out in anyways he could. Homework, dinner, clean-up, bedtime stories – everything he could be involved with, he would be. He wanted to be present at every opportunity. Afterwards, he’d value the precious time alone with his workaholic wife who, despite her own set of long hours at the office, managed to keep a tidy fome (as she fondly referred to their loft) and easy-going kids.

They were doing alright, if he said so himself.

Diana was Adalind’s shadow. It was endearing to see the spirited blonde idolize her mother in so many ways. The bond between them was unlike any other, surviving so many early hurdles, and cementing a sturdy relationship that survived even Diana’s rowdy teens. The relationship between step-father and step-daughter wasn’t easy but it was apparent Diana respected Nick. She wasn’t a difficult kid in the slightest, but Diana could be stubborn and impulsive. Nick knew that all too well and had to ask Adalind on numerous occasions to step in, when Diana could not be reasoned with. As she grew, Nick observed two things: When it came to household rules, Nick’s input was up for consideration but Adalind say was absolutely final. Nick eventually conceded to the fact he had to step aside and let Adalind take over some matters. Though, he was pleasantly surprised, Diana did come to him for others.

Unfortunately, Renard was far busier than Nick and scarcely had time to spare, so, with Renard’s blessing, Nick happily stepped up to the plate, so Diana didn’t feel excluded. Those moments were never taken for granted. Such as when Diana wanted to play softball like her friends Masie and Dara, Nick was always on the bleachers for the entire summer and playing catch in the park for practice. (She was a natural). Or when she drank too much and called him at 1 AM, begging to go home, and he asked no questions, passed no judgement, and made sure she went to bed with a glass of water and an aspirin ready for the morning.

Little moments held great value for Nick. Like her penchant for the shotgun seat and obnoxious choice of music Nick begrudgingly tolerated for the entire car ride.  Her company was always welcomed. Or when she squealed with delight as he wrapped her up in a blanket-burrito, carrying her around from end of the loft to the other. He liked how she didn’t mind spending time with him. Once upon a time, she resented his presence, and overtime, her attitude shifted to a point it seemed like such a time never existed.

She was observant, too. She was naturally perceptive, very intuitive, and outright sensitive – it was a gift. She wasn’t just an extraordinary psychic but observant in the sense she copied many mannerisms from the adults around her. She adapted some features from her parents – like Sean’s stubbornness and fearlessness – or Adalind’s talent for apothecary and effortless ability to absorb knowledge – but Nick noticed Diana took after him, too.

Her observation skills were honed mainly by Nick’s investigative instincts and he unintentionally began to mentor Diana to follow his footsteps, something that prompted a swell of pride in the detective when Diana began to heed his advice when inspecting a scene or situation. In addition to her natural protective instincts, she made a fine investigator, and both Renard and Nick agreed she had a future in the career – if she wanted to.  

The opposite was applied for Kelly. The boy took too much like his father. He was quiet but aware, the kind of kid who saw things but didn’t speak of them until necessary. One would think it’d be difficult to communicate with the kid, but it was easy for both Nick and Adalind. If Diana was Adalind’s shadow, Kelly was Nick’s second-in-command. The boy was a gentle soul who preferred introspective hobbies – like art (the kid was exceptional) or reading. He was too smart for his own good, able to apprehend subject matters beyond that of his peers.

 He adored his father, especially when retelling stories. He’s imagination was limitless, and Nick was glad he could contribute to the kid’s endless wonder. He was a quick study, too, and easily surpassed expectations. He took up languages like a sponge, had a photographic memory, and wit that kept him two steps ahead – the latter habit no doubt stemming from his mother’s old ways. Luckily, rarely did he employ that skill for mischief.

He was headstrong, though, something that came to his parents’ attention as he matured. By middle school, Kelly had a reputation that had both Nick and Adalind shaking their heads. Of all things to inherit, he got their willful streak, and it definitely showed. If he disagreed with something or a statement, he didn’t bother to hide it. He had his father’s many mannerisms and he perfected the scowl before his first words. More so, Kelly never complied on things he strongly opposed. He’d rather have his teeth pulled. And snark? It was rare, but the boy delivered two-fold. Nick didn’t know whether to be proud or disgruntled. Adalind, on the other hand, was very amused.

Eventually, it came to be known Kelly was very much his father’s son, and during a woge, Monroe found himself staring into two pairs of black pits for eyes.  After that day, Nick was eager to finish Kelly’s education of the wesen world – a process Adalind was smart to start when he could process picture books (and substituted them with grimoires).

With two willful children, Nick and Adalind knew they had their hands full. However, they were blessings they loved dearly. They were quick studies, wickedly smart, and fiercely protective. They valued family first, education second, and adopted Nick’s motto for fairness (and looking out for the underdog). More so, they were kind, considerate, and lively.

Nick looked at both Diana and Kelly and was certain that, despite moments of doubt common with new parents, the kids came out alright. Adalind was inclined to agree, gloating about their kids at every opportunity.

As Christmas reared around, Nick reminded himself of another year and another success. Staring back at him from the lamented card, four bright eyes accompanied by beaming smiles poised on the couch. The photo was proof that they kept their promise, defying a cycle of disappointment and tragedy, and overcoming hurdles to create something of their own that would definitely last.

Chapter 3: Prompt Challenge: Protectiveness

Summary:

Two scenarios where Nick gets protective
No word limit - free writing exercise.

Notes:

Strong Dialogue - hefty read. Enjoy!

Prompt: Nick gets protective.  

Adalind was very tiny. And very attractive. That usually encouraged men to approach her. A lot.

 Even when it was blatantly clear she was a mother of two and happily committed to the father-of-said-children (regardless of Diana’s parentage – because anyone could see, physical resemblance or not, Nick was just as much the girl’s Dad as Sean was).

Despite Nick being quite aware Adalind could hold her own since regaining her Hexenbiest abilities – not limited to extraordinary strength (though not enough to rival a Grimm; but maybe two grown men), he usually was the first to voice his displeasure of their unwanted advances if he was present. To her credit, Adalind tried to be tactful – a set an example for her kids without mentally scarring them. (“You can cut a man without drawing blood, Diana.”)

Even if Adalind was equipped with certain advantages that made her a force to be reckoned with, Nick didn’t like the idea of stepping aside and letting her handle it herself. He promised he’d protect her and he made that very clear in not just his vows but his actions, too.

There was one particular instance that riled the seasoned Detective. The usually cool-headed man had an uncharacteristic break, resorting to other methods to make a point. Of all the encounters he’d witnessed, ‘sleazy Steve’ took the cake.

Sleazy Steve was the office nickname amongst the ladies of Adalind’s firm for a notorious Steven Caldwell. She had a few interactions, abet brief, but enough to staple an image of a sexual harassment suit in the making. Remarkably, against all odds, Steven seemed to evade any consequences – the perk of being a ‘valuable asset’ or ‘expensive buy-out’.

In any other circumstance, Adalind had no qualm about resorting to painful measures to make her own points. Unfortunately, she found herself in quite the predicament when Steven set her attention on the attractive blonde – even if she was obviously married, and quite happily so. Family photos on her desk were disregarded by the pompous bastard – too intent on the blonde behind them. Every time she was tempted to break his fingers, or subject him to a mind-splitting migraine, she had to remind herself if it was worth losing her job over.

She could only take it for three weeks. The bastard drove her over the edge – and definitely not in the way he had intended – when groped her from behind in the copy room.

Nick wasn’t sure who was angrier – Adalind or himself. Both were equally infuriated.

Adalind had fought every fiber of her being to not retaliate, practicing an amazing amount of control. When she escaped the confines of the office and into the comfort of fome, she unloaded everything onto Nick after dinner.

His blood boiled the entire hour she recounted each incident. The suggestive comments about her “banging post-baby body”, his endless interruptions, invading her private space, the disrespectful remarks about her family (or mainly, the spouse Steven was evidently envious of), and worse, the unsolicited gifts – strings most definitely attached.

“I told Berman I want nothing to do with him,” Adalind seethed. “I asked for advanced warnings if he was stopping by – so I could take an early lunch break or file paperwork at the courthouse – anything! Hell, I’d trade places with the interns, so I could do coffee runs if it means avoiding that snake!”

“But that doesn’t stop the harassment,” Nick deduced dryly.

“No!” She exploded, voice cracking. “It doesn’t! He keeps coming in uninvited and without warning. He makes any excuse to waste my time and then, day by day, he takes it up a notch. It started with little comments and now he’s getting handsy. Who knows what’ll he’ll do tomorrow! If he slides his hand up my skirt like he did with Alexandra a couple years ago, I might just murder him. You’ll have to arrest, again! This time – for murder I actually committed! I can’t jeopardize my career and I can’t lose my kids. I’m at my wits end, Nick. I don’t know how much more I can take of this!”

They were at an impasse. On one hand, Nick was fuming. Adalind was being terrorized at work and he felt restricted in what he could do. He so desperately wanted to get rid of this Steven-character, but the law prohibited Nick from extracting his brand of retribution. On the other, Adalind’s job security relied on keeping the peace – even if it meant sacrificing her own personal psyche and bodily autonomy. It wasn’t fair.

They mused about other alternatives – looking into other firms, perhaps. She was one step ahead, considering the idea, but the job market was limited, and Portland was a small city. The idea of a one-income household wasn’t plausible, not with kids in school, and Adalind refused to be a financial burden.  Legal ramifications weren’t probable either – too risky. Steven held a much higher position as a partner than she did, and therefore, either had to be bought which proved too expensive, or she had to resign, which she made very clear was not something she wanted without having a safety net to fall back on. More so, it would hurt her reputation than it would his – she’d be labelled problematic and possibly blacklisted.

The situation was distressing, and the couple had trouble sleeping that night. He did what he could in the moment, providing comfort and compassion – holding her the entire night while suppressing his own urge to throttle the bastard.

The image of Adalind’s glistening eyes and cracked voice plagued Nick for the remainder of the week. When she collapsed into his arms, crying into his shoulder, he felt his resolved shatter. He hated seeing her so weak when he saw her as the family rock -  the woman who made sure her children were tended to, kept the house in order, and supported Nick at every turn, all the while working a full-time job and jugging the insanity that usually accompanied Nick’s Grimm identity.

She put on a good front for the kids. The exchange between mother-and-child was soothing and sincere, seeing at they put her mind at ease. She invested much of her evening tending to Kelly and Diana, doting on Nick in the after hours, while ignoring the problem awaiting her the next morning.

An unassuming Tuesday prove to be her breaking point.

Nick was taken by surprised when Adalind stormed into the precinct. She had a mask of icy fury, hiding a sea of emotions behind her blazing blue eyes. Aside from her locked jaw, she looked in immaculate condition – clean wool coat, ironed black dress, and glossy heels were unscathed by the elements; her hair was characteristically smooth and polished. 

“We need to talk,” she stated to her husband. Only he and Hank caught to subtle crack in her voice. Hank, out of the loop, looked at Nick with alarm. Nick, who was aware of Adalind’s dilemma, simply nodded.

“Everything alright?” Hank probed worriedly.

Nick ejected himself from his seat, taking hold of Adalind’s hand, and assured his partner with a tight smile.

“We’re fine,” Nick bid in a hurry.

Adalind’s tense anger was a front because the moment Nick escorted her into an empty interview room, she completely shattered into hysterics. He didn’t have a chance to ask her the pressing question before she ran into his open arms, burying her face into his chest. The sheer force almost had him stumbling backwards.

“I can’t do it! I just can’t!” He could make out from her muffled shrieks.

He didn’t push her for answers. He consoled her by rubbing her back while the other stroked her hair, a gesture her knew eased her. She trembled in his arms and clutched the material of his jacket with an iron grip.

He knew his absence would be noticed but he could care less about his nosy colleagues. He would wait for Adalind to get her bearings. She’d tell him eventually.

And she did. And when she did, his blood ran cold.

“Okay, so what did he say?” Nick encouraged after getting some snippets of information.

Nick had gathered that Steven had cut off her exit, blocking the doorway so she would have to either push him or brush against him to leave the stock room. Opposed to touching him, she opted to remain trapped, an unfavorable alternative but no better than the former.

She was hesitant to repeat it, but Nick deserved to know, and she obliged – though it was a painful struggle.

“I told him he was being really inappropriate. I’m married with kids and I’m not interested in anyone else,” she gave way. His thumb drew circles on her back soothingly. “He told me it didn’t matter – that I had a reputation for being a – Argh! I’m not saying that word! I don’t care if I had a lot of partners, that shouldn’t matter anymore! I’m not that person! And who cares about my past! Whether someone slept with one person or ten, it doesn’t justify them being subjected to nothing more than a plaything for an asshole like him!” she fisted his jacket tightly. Nick’s support never wavered.

So, Steven called her something – Nick had an inkling of what – but he wasn’t going to trigger Adalind by asking her to specify.

“He told me that it didn’t matter – that I could make another exemption for him; That I was doing you a disservice by pretending to be something I’m not; That I made my bed and he was just as entitled to lie in it as any other guy,” Adalind choked. “He said I should consider the consequences of turning him down because he was getting tired of my act. What act?!” She cried, a combination of rage and alarm.

Nick didn’t know how to respond. So much was running through his head. He fixated on the threat Steven made – that could infer anything. It could mean her job was at stake or worse, Steven would go about his advances more aggressively than before. The latter scenario provoked a fury within him, barely quelled. Adalind felt his body tense but she didn’t see his expression.

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!” She screamed into his jacket lapels.

Nick wrapped his arms around her snugly. She cradled her face in his neck, dampening the material with her tear-glazed cheeks.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Nick asked softly.

She shook her head. “No,” her muffle voice confirmed. “I threw a cup of water at him and ran to my car. Then I came here.”

“Good,” he kissed her temple. “Don’t put yourself in that position. Let me take care of it.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” she replied with a panicked tremor.

“No one is getting in trouble but him,” Nick assured.

A knock on the glass behind them alerted Nick to another presence. He sighed and Adalind detached herself from his shoulder, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. He took it upon himself to wipe away any other stray tear marks with his thumb and then brought her face up to his for a kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you, too,” she replied meekly but a faint smile that lingered on her lips was rewarding enough for Nick.

“We’ll get some lunch after. You should call in today and go home. Don’t stress yourself out. I’ll pick up the kids from school, too. I want you to take it easy and not worry. I’ll take care of this.”

“…Okay,” she agreed, wholeheartedly trusting him.

The knocking became more insistent and Nick begrudgingly reached for the door. Adalind shadowed him, anxiously fixing her face of any sign she had been distraught prior.

“Adalind,” Sean greeted.

“Hi, Sean,” she replied gruffly – not out of animosity but due to the fact her voice had yet to recover.

“Are you okay?” He reached out, extending a box of tissue. She took the token appreciatively.

“Yeah,” she nodded but not too confidently.

“You should get some water,” Nick instructed.

“I have a bottle of bourbon in my office,” Sean informed.

“Uh, probably not,” Nick furrowed his brows. “You still have to drive home,” he turned to Adalind.

“Nick’s right. I really shouldn’t be drinking,” Adalind mused, “but thank you, Sean. It’s a generous offer.”

“Of course,” Sean nodded.

“Can I at least hide in your office?” Adalind asked.

“You don’t even have to ask,” he nodded. “Take your time.”

“I’ll see you before I leave,” she spun to Nick. He squeezed her hand tenderly and reluctantly let it go when she walked out of reach.

“How much did you hear?” Nick probed suspiciously.

“I’m not trying to invade in your marital business,” Sean pacified. “I tried to turn out most of it. Is Adalind okay?”

“Not sure,” Nick shrugged. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding the white of his knuckles. “This isn’t really your business but between you and me…”

“I’d be happy to turn the other cheek,” Sean assured without Nick having to explain himself, much to the detective’s gratitude. “What you do off the clock is none of my concern. Just be discreet so it doesn’t bite me in the ass.”

“Is that a blessing?”

“I care about Adalind in the way that she’s my daughter’s mother. I do not care for people to threaten or harass her. I’m not going to overstep boundaries or push my weight unless I need to. As her husband and as a Grimm, I think you’d be more effective to solve the problem, but should I ever come into play, you know where my loyalties lie.”

“…Thank you,” Nick accepted graciously.

“And just to cover our bases,” Sean straightened his mouth into a firm line, “we never had this conversation.”

“What conversation?” Nick confirmed.

“Exactly.” Sean walked passed him, opening the door. Before Nick could exit, Sean stopped him with a hand. “Take the rest of the day off, with pay,” Sean bid. “It’s a slow day. I’ll drop Diana off myself – it’ll save you the trip. And whatever you do, don’t leave a mess.”

“Copy that, Captain,” Nick nodded.

Nick found Adalind by his desk, keys ready in her palm. Hank was relieved to find the pair in good spirits, a contradiction to his concerns that maybe the couple had hit a marital rough patch, or something had happened to one of the kids.

“Thanks for the chocolate,” Adalind said to Hank.

“Anytime,” Hank smiled.

“Where should we go?” Nick asked his wife.

“Tacos?”

Nick was pleasantly surprised by her choice. He grinned.

“Sure,” he happily agreed. “Same place?”

“What are you talking about? There’s only one place we go to,” she teasingly remarked.

They intertwined hands, bid Hank and Wu a goodbye when they intercepted the latter on the front steps, and left in Adalind’s BMW – the one she bought herself after a hefty bonus and deemed an early birthday gift. Nick was skeptical at first, but it grew on him after months of driving it.

 

“Totally worth going on the other side of town for,” Adalind moaned. “This is the perfect comfort food.” She had finished her second taco and reached for another. They were smaller in portion, thus, the couple bought at least six to split evenly between them.

“They’re the cheapest, too,” Nick mused. “Best kept secret in Portland.”

“I’m not even mad when Kelly insists we get tacos because I’m just as invested as he is,” Adalind humored. “Actually – when I was pregnant with him – that’s all I was craving. Enchiladas, Mexican rice, tacos – the only thing I could find was tortillas, so I made the blandest taco of just the tortilla, shredded cheese, and corn – it was so gross.”

Nick poorly stifled his laughter behind the back of his hand.

“He was so upset with me! I was sick the entire day. He was not having it. So, fast forward when he no longer a fetus but an actual, walking wrecking ball,” she began. Nick snorted at the description of their son. Adalind horribly fought the grin growing on her face. “Anyways, we venture over here and he sees place, and he loses it! ‘Mommy, mommy, mommy – stop! We need tacos! We need tacos now! Now! It’s a need!’ and I could not reason with him.  I, of course, stop and order him one – and they’re tiny – but for Kelly, they were the perfect size. I get one for myself, and an extra just in case. His stomach is a black hole – there’s no limit.” Nick nodded, understanding that sentiment completely. “Best. Fucking. Taco. In my life. Just like the one I was craving when he was barely a bump. It was destiny!”

“Hank and I used to stop by all the time when he got calls down here,” Nick swallowed a large bite of his. “He’d yell at me for eating in the car – it was new then, not so much now,” he chuckled. “I almost forgot about it until I took a detour when the highway was being torn up and Kelly freaks out about this place, slapping the window, fussing up a storm – and I’m down for food, so it’s win-win. It was just as good as I remembered.”

“We made a monster,” she laughed. “We can never come down here without stopping.”

“I don’t regret it,” Nick grinned, finishing his last bite.

“I can’t either,” she agreed, gathering up the trash. “We’re good to go?”

“I think so,” he raised a thumb.

“So, I was thinking,” Adalind announced as they neared the car. “I want to go back to work, but,” she raised a finger before he could interrupt, “only to grab some files I need to look over for my upcoming case. However, I realize we have an opportunity that’s too good to miss. I don’t think Steve has met you before. He’d probably be too dense to recognize you from the photos I have. So, hypothetically, if you were to stand guard by my door…” she drifted.

“You already know the answer to that,” the ends of his lips curled upwards.

“You’re the best,” she beamed broadly.

“Also, if you wanted to threaten him, that’d be kind of nice, too,” Adalind mused. “Berman kind of scared of you, so he wouldn’t say anything,” she added.

“I didn’t notice,” Nick replied sarcastically. “Wait, is Steve wesen?” Did he ask that question before – and he didn’t – why not?

“Yes!” She replied immediately. “He’s a Ziegevolk.”

“Oh, so that’ll be easy,” Nick shrugged, then suddenly paused mid-step. “Wait – if he’s a Ziegevolk – how come you’re not…”

“Manipulated by his pheromones? One, you can’t out-manipulate the manipulator. Hexenbiest, Sprite-like wesen who utilize similar tactics, and other wesen with high prey-drives, like a Wampus, tend to be immune or tolerant enough it’s not effective. I think especially for my case, ever since your pesky blood got into my system, I’ve had a plethora of side-effects. One of them being I’m completely and utter immune to another man’s charm,” she teased.

“That was cheesy, even for me,” Nick retorted but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t find it humorous. “Seriously though, you mean that?”

“We’ve had this talk before,” she raised a brow. “Ever since Kelly was born and my powers came back with a vengeance, the Hexenbiest that’s behind all of this,” she demonstrated by telekinetically seizing the keys from his palm, “has sworn her allegiance to you. She identifies that we’re on the same team and we share the same agenda – therefore, her loyalty to you is stronger than any appeal to whatever Ziegevolk tricks Steve may conjure from his sleeve.”

“Can I have the keys back?” Nick asked, palm out.

“No,” she laughed. “For someone who chastised me for splurging on the car, you sure like it.”

“It’s a nice car,” Nick admitted. “I looked up the safety ratings – impressive.”

“Let’s get to the meat of the matter,” she grinned. “You just like the speed which is ironic considering you drive like my deceased grandmother.”

“One of us has to abide by the law,” Nick retorted. “I plan on living today, so if you’d be kind enough to return the keys,” Nick stepped off the curb and towards the driver’s side, beating Adalind to it.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” she smirked. “Step away from the door. My car, my rules.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Nick challenged. “Hey – wait – I’m playing your knight in amour for the day. You owe me.”

“You’re my husband – that’s your duty to defend my honor,” Adalind countered, amused. “Nice try. I’m driving. You drove here anyways.”

“I have all day,” Nick grinned, arms crossed. “I’m getting paid for this.”

“Stop leaning against my car!” Adalind reprimanded with a playful swat. She made the fatal error of getting too close.

Nick, the opportunist, intercepted the hand holding the keys and attempted to snatch them. She fisted her hands around them, tucking her hand into her abdomen and doubling over to prevent Nick from seizing them. She squealed, almost losing the battle when he nearly pried the offending fist open. Because his chest was pressed against her back, his visual was impaired, and he had to rely on touch and inference.

“It’s my turn!” She shrieked, laughing the entire time.

“Adalind,” he tried to reprimand but her stern tone fell short.

With their cheeks almost side-by-side, she caught a glimpse of his grin and he, in turn, was enamored to find her expression bubbly and rosy.

“You’re not winning this battle,” she insisted. “You can pry these from my cold, dead body,” she declared lightheartedly. 

“I could arrange that,” Nick played along.

“You had a chance,” she hummed. “You failed – miserably.”

“Or did I?” Nick breathed over her shoulder.

Their noses skimmed and the temptation to kiss her was too strong.

“Affection will not win you any advantage,” she smirked after he took the chance, “though I will happily welcome a second attempt.”

“You know,” Nick hummed, “one of these days you will not get your way.”

“Wishful thinking on your part,” Adalind jousted.

“You underestimate me… Ha!” Nick triumphantly cheered, wiggling the small contraption from her palm. He withheld it from her by shoving it in his pocket, secured by his hand. 

“No way!” Adalind pouted.

“Looks like today is that day,” he winked. “Get in the car,” he gestured with a nod.

“You suck,” she accused pointedly. She aimed a finger in his direction as she rounded the hood of the car, narrowing his eyes.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” he retorted cheerfully.

 

The tone had dropped severely when they approached her office. He could feel her anxiety rise by the minutes.

“I won’t let him near you,” Nick promised in the car.

“I know,” she smiled.

Their hands parted briefly, only when they exited the car, and quickly reconnected.

“That’s his car – the Mercedes – if you had the urge to look at his license plate,” she suggested. He was already on top of it, memorizing the plates, and texting Hank with his free had to save it on a post-it for future reference.

They entered the doors briskly, welcomed by the secretary. She recognized Nick instantly and offered a gleaming smile of veneers. She turned to Adalind, reiterating she had three new memos and a missed call from a third-party. Nick waited until Adalind finished the exchange before he himself returned the gesture, bidding short pleasantries with the bubbly woman. After a minute, the blonde made her move to her office, and he hastily shadowed her.  

He passed by Berman’s office. The door was wide open, and he could see the aging attorney look up, mystified, and then anxious, when he recognized the detective as Portland’s own Grimm. Nick raised a hand in a friendly manner. Berman expressed a nervous smile and hastily got up to close the door. He wouldn’t be out for quite some time until the coast was clear.

“Is he really that scared of me?” Nick inquired curiously.

Adalind shot him a humored looked.

“I told you he was,” she chortled.

“Weird,” Nick shrugged.

“Why?” Adalind knitted her brows together, confused.

“He loves Kelly,” Nick observed.

“I think he’s hoping he’d be a Zauberbiest,” Adalind hummed.

“That’s not happening,” Nick grinned.

“Yeah but we’re not telling him that yet,” Adalind winced.

Kelly had taken too much like his dad – the hair color, eyes (though arguably, it a mix of his dad’s green and his mom’s blue), and as of last summer, much to his father’s utter delight, Grimm abilities.

Luckily, they started when he was just a toddler to introduce him to the wesen world. Reading from the grimoire, introducing him to friendly wesen like Bud, and getting him acquainted with woges. While many would find Adalind’s Hexenbiest persona frightening, Kelly was so accustomed, it didn’t faze him in the slightest, and actually found her greying-face and cracked skin fascinating. That being said, it desensitized Kelly in many instances when he saw a woge – and he knew better than to think ‘monster’. He wasn’t shocked or frightened by the sight. The primary lesson his parents were happy to install was the fact that whether woged or not, Rosalee was still Rosalee; Monroe was still Monroe; Mom was still Mom; and vice-versa.

By the time his Grimm abilities were expressed, Kelly was hundred-percent prepared. The only thing they later realized was that Adalind’s wesen contribution may have exacerbated some of his abilities – to the point he could force wesen to woge, by sheer will alone, and that was his parents’ latest mission to correct as soon as possible before the boy could get himself in serious trouble with a less-than-friendly wesen.

(On a positive note, another thing they were impressed – and relieved – to discover was that Kelly seemed immune to ‘magical’ properties from Hexenbiests, Zauberbiests, and other ‘magic’ inclined wesen outside his immediately bloodline. Unfortunately for Kelly, that meant Diana could still mess with him – and he hated being levitated.)

 

The first thing he noted was her desk was the number of personal photos she had put on display. Like last years’ Christmas photo, or Kelly’s first time in snow; Diana in her prep-school uniform and a picture of the couple on their honeymoon in Scotland. He spied their wedding photo behind her, on the bookshelf next to a framed picture of Kelly’s crayon creation.

“Don’t even think about stealing that one,” Adalind accused playfully.

She saw him eyeing a picture of Kelly – the one she took when he leapt into the snow that almost buried him and was absolutely delighted when his head popped up from the white powder. The boy had a killer smile and that moment she snapped with her phone became one of her favorites.

“I don’t have enough pictures on my desk,” Nick retorted lightly.

“You don’t have enough space on your desk,” she raised a brow.

“Tomato, Tomato,” Nick grinned.

“You have a picture of him at his baseball game, right when he hits that ball,” Adalind pouted.

“And it’s staying where it belongs, with me,” Nick stated matter-of-fact. “That was a one-in-a-million shot and it’s never, ever leaving my sight.”

And he meant it. He had saved it as his screensaver.

To no one’s surprise, Nick was a very involved father. He was all the more psyched when Kelly showed athletic gifts and became heavily involved in baseball. He was just as enthusiastic as he had been when Kelly shot his first arrow – but Adalind shot down the idea of Kelly participating in archery until he wasn’t in a position to accidently kill something or himself.

When Diana got into archery – and she did – Adalind had to accept that her garage would be a lot more packed, and to lay down the basic rules of no instruments of potential lethality inside the loft for anyone under 18. In the meanwhile, Nick was positively ecstatic. He converted half the garage as a training ground – one portion wrapped in net for Kelly’s practice swings and the other lined with targets to perfect Diana’s aim.

So far, no broken windows, or marks on the car. Nick was especially excited for the temperature to rise because then he could set up an outdoor arena-like-thing for the children. Diana already had her spot on the pavement with hay markers – he just needed to pull them out when the snow was off the ground. As for Kelly, he and Monroe had already sketched plans – because Freddy was now involved in the same sport, and the boys were practically glued to the hip.

“You’re really going to push this to college, aren’t you?” she grinned, shaking her head.

“I don’t know why’d you even ask,” Nick snorted. “Sports are great! They keep the kids discipline and focused! Not the mention the other benefits given our line our work. Just like languages! Diana is pretty damn good at French and she’s getting the hang of German; Kelly is a natural at Spanish and picking up French without a problem. His teachers say he’s a natural with literature and composition. Diana is brilliant when it comes to math. If we keep this up, we won’t have to pay a cent for college.”

“Ah-ha!” Adalind boomed. “I knew there was an ulterior motive. College is so far away, and tuition isn’t going to be a problem. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It won’t hurt,” Nick insisted. “Give our kids some props.”

“I give them credit every day,” she replied with ease. 

“I know,” Nick assured. “You’re a great mom and it shows.”

“And I find your passion for our kids’ hobbies and education very endearing,” she returned the compliment.

The couple were so engaged in their conversation of their children’s commitments, she didn’t see they had an audience until Nick sensed them lingering in the doorway. He stopped mid-sentence and turned slightly in the chair to face their visitor, ejecting himself promptly when he took in their appearance.

“Steven,” Adalind addressed curtly.

“Addy, Addy-my-girl, that was quite the lunch break. Did you get anything good?” Steven clicked his tongue. His eyes shifted from the blonde to the dark-haired male across from. “And you must be the Mister!” Steven deduced. “Quite the looker your landed!” he jested to Nick.

He reached out a hand to shake Nick’s.

“I’m Steven Caldwell. A partner of this firm. Everyone calls me Steve. You are?”

“Nick, Nick Burkhardt,” he returned coldly.

Steven was shorter than Nick – and much wider but not in the muscular sense. He was greying at the hair (according to his roots, a stark contrast to his dark-dye) and appeared a decade older than the forty-some couple.

“Good to meet you, Nick. What do you do again?”

“I’m a detective for the Portland Police Department,” he replied.

The answer seemed to satisfy the pompous man,

“So, looks like Addy here is the bread winner,” he teased.

Nick’s jaw locked, stunned momentarily speechless. The gall the guy…

“Is there something you needed, Steven?” Adalind butted in, icier than ever.

“I forgot what I came in for,” Steven mused, “but I’ll let you know when I remember it.”

“You can always e-mail me whenever,” Adalind replied dryly. “You don’t need to see me in person all the time.”

“It’s so much better having face-to-face interaction though, don’t you agree?” Steven smiled wickedly.

“Adalind, you have everything, right?” Nick prompted a change of topic.

“I believe so,” she chirped, tucking the files into her tote. She slid her laptop behind them and secured the latch before slinging it over her shoulder.

“Going somewhere again?” Steven probed suspiciously.

“Just a family thing,” Adalind replied. “Berman cleared it with me.”

Both she and Nick knew Berman wouldn’t pose any opposition.

“Ah,” Steven muttered.

“Does he know about me,” Nick mouthed, gesturing to his eyes – unseen by Steven, as the latter was too fixed on Adalind.

Adalind shook her head.

Nick grinned, finding a new avenue to use.

“Before you leave, mind if I have a moment with my associate here?” Steven addressed Nick with a tight-lipped smile.

“We’re a tight schedule,” Nick hummed disapprovingly.

“It’ll only take a second,” Steven waved off.

“She has her phone – just e-mail her,” Nick stood firm.

Steven scowled. He was not used to being told no.

“Whatever you have to say, just cc me on the message. I’ll get to it by tonight,” Adalind forced a small smiled. “I’ll meet you in the car, you should get coffee before we head out,” Adalind pitched brightly. “I know you were disappointed because we didn’t have time to stop for some earlier. There is plenty in the stock room!” She grinned.

She was setting Steven up for one-on-one time with Nick and the poor, pompous fool was oblivious to it. Adalind, on the other hand, was loving it like a spiteful sadist Nick knew deep down she was.

Adalind slipped out of the room, kissing Nick on her way out, and disappearing altogether. Steven made a subtle attempt to follow her but was obstructed by Nick’s lean, muscular frame.

“We should talk,” Nick ordered. He was using his voice of authority, designated for suspects, uncooperative witnesses, and unruly wesen. To drive his point, Nick’s hand promptly slammed the door in Steven’s face before the stocky man could make an escape and trapping him in the space where he was usually at the advantage.

No today though.

Steven scrunched his face together.

“I really need to go,” Steven demanded, employing his own authoritative voice.

He had nothing on a season detective, hardened Grimm, and father of two strong-willed children. 

“I’ll let you go in a moment, after I say what I need to say,” Nick was unmoved.

“This is imprisonment,” Steven argued.

“’Imprisonment’ is the last of my worries, and should be the least of yours,” Nick remarked dryly. Steven flinched at Nick’s frosty tone. “Adalind has told me what you’ve been doing and I’m not happy about it.”

“And what exactly is that?” Steven challenged.

“You’ve made her uncomfortable with your unwanted advances, threatened her when she refused to comply, and called her something I’m not going to repeat,” Nick gruffly pointed. He was unusually cool – the calm before the storm – and knew any moment he’d snap.

“I’m sure she made herself out to be some sort of victim,” Steven rolled his eyes. “It takes two to tango. Honestly, you should’ve known what you were getting into when you married her. She’s a pretty face who everyone had their rounds with.”

Nick had a greater appreciation for Adalind’s control because all he wanted to do was knock the asshole’s teeth out when he had the audacity to say what he said.  

“She’s not interested in you, I’m not interested in having this happen behind my back, and if you don’t step aside and leave her be, we’re going to have serious problems,” Nick said with a cool, concise tone. All that went out the window when he dialed up the notch with his next petty remark. “As for your statement about her past relationships – interesting how she supposedly meandered with everyone but you. That’s ought to say something, don’t you think?”

That struck a nerve and Steven growled, woging when his anger ignited.

His anger was promptly extinguished and replaced with culpable fear when he gauged the black abysses of Nick’s eyes.

“Ah,” Nick grinned. “A Ziegevolk. Even with your little frogs, you still can’t your way,” Nick said condescendingly. He stepped forward. Steven stumbled back, almost tripping into a chair.

“You’re right about one thing. I knew what I was getting into when I proposed. Adalind and I may not be the most conventional couple, but we have excellent communication. We have a bond that not even your kind could sabotage. Trust me when I say we’ve been through Hell and back. Now, Adalind and I have two kids, and as of next month, a kitten, which Diana has been begging for. There is nothing you could offer or threaten that’d make Adalind turn her back on the family that we’ve worked very hard to build and protect. You could only guess about how many obstacles and threats not only she and I face but the ones our kids will eventually have to confront. You’re just a little blip on the radar in comparison to the bigger picture.”

Steven gulped.

“Since I have your attention, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Nick continued. “Adalind has no problem killing a man. I’ve seen it myself. The fact she’s left you untouched is beyond me. You should consider yourself extremely lucky. That goes out the moment the moment you threaten her, and I have no qualms about her doing what she needs to do to protect herself. However, as her husband, I’m with her every step of the way. She looks out for me and I look out for her. I’m a father and husband first, Grimm second, and lastly, a detective – in that order. Once she’s through with you, I’ll make sure you’re beyond recognizable – and that’s if you’re found. Oregon has a lot of natural, untouched resources – don’t you agree?”

Nick didn’t make an open habit of threatening people, but he’d made an exception for this case.

“And don’t bother going to the police. Remember who and what Diana’s biological father is. Don’t play dumb. I had my partner look up your background and turns out you had quite a few run-ins with our Captain. He probably hates you just as much as I do, especially when you threatened to sue the precinct for misconduct after you were caught under the influence behind the wheel. If you know anything about Renard, you’ll realize he takes his job very seriously, and having his reputation and his office questioned is an unforgivable offense in his book.”

Steven looked sufficiently scared.

“You have no cards to play here other than to recuse yourself from the table altogether. Do I make myself clear?”

Steven furiously bobbed his head, knuckles white.

“And you know what would happen if I even suspect you’re harassing my wife again,” Nick pressed.

Steven continued to nod, almost to the point of whiplash.

“Good,” Nick smiled sarcastically. “I’m glad we came to an understanding. I really hope I don’t see you again. Portland is a lot smaller than it seems.”

“You can’t just order me to pick up my things and go,” Steven objected fiercely.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, or the risk of bodily threat is a very real reality for you,” Nick squinted. “It’s not nice when the tables are turned. You gave the same ultimatum to Adalind. She came to me. I promised to take care of the problem. And like all the other promises I made, I’ll see it through. You’re a sensible, well-to-do man. I’m sure you have no problem finding work elsewhere.”

“This is intimidation,” Steven hissed.

“Oh, I know,” Nick admitted unapologetically. “It’s kind of my strong suit. Comes with the whole Grimm package. The badge certainly helps. My stronger suit is extracting a brand of justice that might not agree your face.”

“I’m sure Adalind is elated you’re speaking on her behalf like some kind of possession,” Steven growled. He boldly stepped forward, armed with a paperweight. Nick was amused by the façade. “She’s her own person.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Nick retorted, “but your concern is mistaken. She asked me for help and I’m always happy to do so. Let’s not get any ideas and lose our heads now, shall we? We’d both know who’d win.”

Steven’s face fell and lost an extraordinary amount of color.

Nick bid him farewell with a smirk and open the door to find the blonde waiting patiently on the other side. He wasn’t surprised and was met with a beaming smile.

“I thought you were going to the car,” Nick spoke warmly.

“I had to make sure things went okay,” Adalind whispered.

“I handled it, and no blood was shed,” he assured. He pressed his hand against her back and kissed her temple. He pressed forward, urging her ahead. “Kelly’s about the be let out. We should try to be there on time or else we’ll be stuck waiting in line forever.”

“You threatened to lop off his head,” Adalind snickered.

“It’s a bad habit,” Nick shrugged.

 

Bonus Feature: Adalind schemes…

 

Both women were stunned.

Until Rosalee lost it, laughing boisterously at the bar.

“Thanks a lot,” Adalind drying.

“You were just saying…” Rosalee struggled to gain her breath. “You were just saying… how that dress made you look… like a…” she heaved, “like an escort!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to be approached like one!” Adalind exclaimed, slapping the room key onto the polished counter in frustration.

The two women were the only ones remaining of the original five – Trubel, Eve, and Bud’s wife – Phoebe – being the other three who had left earlier. Adalind and Rosalee then transferred to the bar where they’d be better exposed when their husbands came to pick them up.

It was girl’s night, and everyone dressed for the occasion.

Rosalee was dressed in form-fitting jeans, fringed heels, and a black blouse paired with a striking green coat that garnered many compliments from the rest of the party. Her glossy hair was thrown over one shoulder, waving towards the ends.

Adalind didn’t do jeans. It was one the few articles of clothing she only wore for laborious jobs or evenings where she rarely had to socialize. She preferred articles of clothing that emphasized her figure – like the red dress she pulled out of her closet for that night.

She had discarded her long, wool coat over her lap, revealing two thin straps settled on her shoulder. The cut was low but not plunging – though the dress didn’t do any favors hiding Adalind’s bustier frame.  The waist line was tiny and continued to hug her form to the hems, just above the knees. She paired the cocktail dress with a set of nude pumps that really flattered her legs. Her platinum blonde hair had been done in her favorite style – long, bold waves falling freely down her back.

The two women were enjoying their conversation when they were approached by a man – small, stocky, and dressed in a suit that fit him loosely. His eyes set on Adalind’s striking red dress and leaned between the women, cutting off Rosalee.

He was brief – complimenting on Adalind’s figure, how he preferred blondes, and then pulling out two cards: his AMEX credit card, and a napkin with his number, and a room key to the adjoining hotel next door. He bid both speechless women a wink and returned to his table in the middle of the room – alone – sipping on an amber-looking drink.

“I’m burning this dress when I get home,” Adalind seethed.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Rosalee wiped a stray tear.

“Don’t tell anyone!” Adalind pleaded, noticing the phone in her friend’s hand.

“Can I at least tell my sister?” Rosalee requested slightly. “I won’t name names!”

“Fine!” Adalind sighed, mortified.

“I’m not looking back… I refuse to pay him any attention.” She declared with a venomous glare – not at the culprit, anywhere but! Instead, she focused her steam on the shelf of liquor before them, eyeing the vodka specifically. “I’m getting another drink – I’m going to need it.”

It wasn’t until minutes later when her phone pinged – a text from Nick – alerting her he and Monroe were on their way. Like a lightbulb, an idea switched in her head, and her glare changed dramatically into a grin.

I need you to do me a huge solid, she replied. I’ll explain when you get here.

Anything, his response was quick.

Love you a lot! She returned, accompanied by an [kissing-face] emoji.

Love you too – no more drinks, he followed suit.

Buzz kill, she replied.

 

The men arrived in record time.

Monroe reached Rosalee first, kissing her on lips chastely.

“Hi Honey,” she sung sweetly.

“You look sober,” Monroe mused.

“I only two of these,” she raised her glass. “They’re kind of weak.:

“You look nice,” Nick gazed Adalind’s entire get-up. He noticed her sour expression but didn’t say anything right away.

Rosalee snorted.

“Don’t say a word,” Adalind warned the brunette.

“Did I miss something?” Nick posed the question.

“You missed the best thing ever,” Rosalee wheezed.

“I hate you,” Adalind deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at Rosalee. “By the way,” she eyed Monroe, “she had five of those – not two – and a straight Jameson.”

“You’re such a narc!” Rosalee pouted.

“You’re wasted,” Adalind countered.

“Hypocrite,” Rosalee swallowed. “You had two shots of tequila, a vodka-tonic, and a glass of red wine. How are you not knocked over?”

“I’ve been drinking since I was sixteen. I have one hell of a tolerance – it’ll take a lot more to put me out,” Adalind grinned.

“Okay,” Nick nodded, “so, what about this favor?”

“Alright,” Adalind began, pulling out a room key and the AMEX card from under the napkin. She lifted it up. “Some asshat came over and gave this to me – like I’m some common escort,” she scowled.

“Is he still alive?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Oh yeah – you can’t miss him. Stubby looking guy in a gross suit. Alone in the middle of the bar. Pretty pathetic. Don’t look!” she hissed, tugging on Nick’s hand.

“I’ve considered many murderous ways to prove a point but men like that – to really hurt them, you need to go after their ego. So, I need your help to completely shatter his confidence.” Adalind grinned.

“I’m on board,” Nick agreed wearily. “How would we go about that?”

“Great!” Adalind beamed. “I’m going to need your credit card – I’m not going to charge it, I’m just going to use it as a prop. Is he looking? He needs to be looking. Great. Okay, card, please,” she grinned. Nick pulled out his wallet from his coat pocket, handing her his credit card. She toyed with it, clutching it between her fingers. “Now, your keys.” She requested. He sighed but complied, offering the ones from the same pocket.

“Is there a point to this?” he questioned.

Rosalee trembled with laughter.

“This is not helping your escort reputation,” the brunette remarked.

“You’ll see where I’m going with this,” Adalind assured. “Sweetheart, relax. Lean over a little bit, like we don’t have a personal bubble. There we go, that’s what I’m talking about,” she smiled when he bent over the counter, cutting between her and Rosalee.

Rosalee’s humor was contagious, as Monroe started to chuckle, too.

“Okay, we should wait outside. We’re not helping her plan,” Rosalee pitched. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“I’ll see you out there,” Monroe patted Nick on the back.

“Can we hurry this along a bit,” Nick spun his finger.

“Fine, Mr. Impatient. Now, I’m going to smile really big as if you said something really charming, and you’re going to take that cue to touch my arm – or if you’re really bold, my knee – your pick – but make it visible.”

“O-kay,” Nick’s brows furrowed. “Or, maybe this?”

His hand pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Sweet,” she commented with a pucker, “and effective… and that works, too,” she added when he took hold of her hand, drawing patterns with his thumbs. “You’re such a romantic. I can’t even fault you on that.”

“You’re not an object to be fondled, Adalind,” he stated.

“Aw,” she tilted her head. “Can’t you pretend for like five seconds?”

“I’ll save it for tonight,” Nick countered with a grin. “After we get you hydrated and some carbohydrates in you.”

“If you play along, I’ll be extra nice tonight,” she smirked.

“I’m not treating you like a prostitute in broad public,” he lightly reprimanded.

“Fine,” she relented. “You’re going to like this part. You’re going to take this,” she slid over the discarded room key, the napkin, and AMEX card to his side of the counter, “and you’re going to deliver this to the asshat over there. Now you can look – you see him? Yeah, that tool. I’ll give you the liberty to say whatever you want to say but I’d greatly appreciate it if you drop something like ‘she won’t be needing this’ and then making a big scene of escorting me away,” she sang. “Thank you, I love you, you’re the best – and I promise to make it up to you.”

He shook his head, but she glimpsed the grin on his face.

“You’re awful,” he accused playfully.

“It’s better than murder!” she cheered softly.

He nodded, “yes, it’s better than murder.”

“So, you’ll do it?” she pleaded.

“I’ll do it,” he submitted with a sigh, seizing the objected under his hand.

She smiled widely. “I could kiss you right now but then that would give it away.”

“You owe me,” he pointed with a finger.

“I told you I would,” she pouted.

He shook his head, deliver an incredulous smile (abet, humored one) and went on his way to return the items. Adalind squealed, grabbing her coat in haste, and smoothing her hair as she anticipated the upcoming scene.

The stocky man looked up in surprise and confusion when Nick confronted him.

“She won’t be needing these, ever,” Nick casted down a sarcastic grin. He flatted the two cards on the edge of the table, glancing at the card one last time before meeting the fellow’s eyes. “Word of advice – stay within your own league.”

“Uh…” he gulped, anxiously taking back his items.

“Also, I think I’ll keep this,” Nick held up the napkin. “Propositioning a detective’s girlfriend? Not very smart of you to leave behind identification… Tyler Prescott, right?  You might get a visit, maybe not. Think first before act. Have a good night,” he tapped the table before turning on his heel to leave.

The man had the right mind to look frightened.

 

“My hero,” Adalind praised when Nick returned. “Whoo!” she squealed when he took it upon himself to lift her out of the chair, hands secured around her waist, and helping her balance on her two feet.

Her hands gripped his forearms.

“You wanted me to be handsy,” he grinned. “Also, those heels look dangerous. Please don’t sprain your ankle.”

“I did, and I won’t, promise,” she smiled. “Should I be excited for what’s coming next?”

“Maybe,” he teased. “I may have a list of expectations already.”

She gasped, impressed. “Someone is feeling bold. Can you give me a hint?”

He mused for a second. “Remember last week – when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Yes,” she squinted.

“And what came after that?”

“Yes,” she flashed her teeth. “I might need to stretch first before we attempt that again,” she added lightly.

“That’s the only hint you’re getting,” Nick winked. “Now, let’s go. It’s late.”

“Yes, detective,” she purred, sashaying past him.

He followed faithfully close behind, a little more pep in his step than before.

Chapter 4: Prompt Challenge: Self Defense

Summary:

Suggestion of smut, a competitive streak, and stirring old rivalries - aka, the one where Nick wants to know if Adalind can hold her own for a multitude of reasons.

Prompt Challenge: 2500 +/-

FAIL: 3712 words

 

Self Defense:

 

The Portland PD hosted plenty of community events; their self-defense seminar was catered in the park biannually. The fall session less popular than their spring alternative, but both respectively pulled in large participation – mostly middle-aged woman, college students, and the remaining portion being seniors.

Nick rarely attended. Not that he wasn’t interested but mainly because something (ahem, a murder) would arise and his time would be relegated to that matter. He’d still advocated for its importance. One could never be too sure. Especially with what he knew lingered in the streets behind human masks.

 “Are you serious?” Adalind asked, tilting her head in confusion.

She crossed the threshold from the closet to the foot of the bed in a matter of milliseconds. Nick laid leisurely over the covers, already prepared to get under; Adalind, for her part, was lacking bottoms – not that Nick would mind. Adalind, however, being notoriously intolerant of the cold, had been so stunned by the abrupt question that she had (temporarily) abandoned her search for her desired leggings.

“Did I stutter?” He teased, hiking a brow.

He intertwined his fingers behind his head and perch himself on the pillow, enjoying the scene of the bewildered blonde. Her mouth was frozen in a ‘o’ shape, eyes wide and fluttering, and the tilt of her head had propelled her long hair to fall to the side in a blonde curtain.

“Absolutely not,” Adalind finally responded after a comical delay. She released an uneven laugh and knitted her brows together, still puzzled by his proposition. “Very funny,” she followed, falling on a flat note. She shook her head slowly and steered back to the closet to resume her search for something warm.

“I could use the support,” Nick shifted gears. His words stopped her in her tracks and she looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow.

“But you’re not participating this year,” she contradicted with an accusing finger.

“No,” Nick shrugged, “but Wu is.”

“So, why do I need to support you if you won’t be there?”

“I am,” Nick smiled. The wheels spun in her head. He answered before she could ask. “Hank and I will be on the side in solidarity.”

“So I have to waste two hours of my life just to stand on the side, watching Wu teach a bunch of grannies how to protect their purse?” Adalind deadpanned.

“You won’t be doing nothing,” Nick exasperated. “You’ll be participating with everyone else. I’ll be your partner to even the playing field.”

“There is no even playing field between us,” she gestured at the space in between them. “And,” she raised a finger, “I don’t need to worry about this,” she flexed her arm and then pointed to her mind, “when I have this.”

“Okay but,” Nick prolonged, “what if this,” he mimicked her motion by pointing to his temple, “isn’t a viable option?”

“I can get down and gritty,” she huffed.

“I have no doubt about that,” he recounted their most physical tussle warmly. “Nonetheless, it’d bring me more peace of mind if you had some sort of defense training,” he added solemnly. “You’re strong but let’s say you’re up against someone like me, or a Lowen, or…” he dragged a breath. “You know what I mean. You’re known for your non-physical abilities. What if someone blocks you though? I could at one point! Someone else could easily concoct another suppressant.”

She glowered at him, arms crossed.

“Those are a lot of what ifs. Usually I’m the one worrying about frivolous shit. Let me do that and you revert back to the rational one who’s focuses on the practical stuff – like the security system that no one else in this house can figure out,” she ordered. He rolled his eyes. So bossy, he thought.

They certainly had an interesting dynamic, he considered. Both were very dominant personalities – but between them, he liked to think he was the stoic authority with a level head. Adalind, for her part, had a good track record to get her way but only because she was persistent and crafty and liked to pull the “I know more than you, and if you feel differently, go ahead to spend time you don’t have to find something in the books” card when convenient. 

When it came to the kids, Nick was firm and unmoved; no matter how many times she’d try to weasel her way, Diana begrudgingly came to the fact she was not going to manipulate him and submitted to his house rules. Kelly, the growing wild child, soon found out the same fate when his attempts to escape Nick’s peripheral were embarrassingly fruitless. Adalind was more lenient – the kids knew her weak spots and exploited them at every turn.

She should’ve seen it coming. Her reflex was severely delayed. She heard the commotion behind her – Nick had gotten off the bed in a spring – and before she could spin around to meet him, his arms had wrapped around her; one on her waist and another (firm, but not suffocating) around her neck.

“What is wrong with you?” she grits, thrashing. She claws at his forearm, but he is unwavering. He pulls her back.

“So, if someone of superior strength does this, how are you going to get out of it? Claw them? The only thing you’re succeeding in is leaving marks, but you’re still trapped.” His breath tickles her ear, the scruff of his face rubs against her temple, and she could already envision the growing grin on his face.

“Fuck. You.”

She throws her head forward, and then back fiercely – catching him by surprise. He lets out a loud yelp and releases her, only to cup his nose, she sees when she veers around to scold him. He peels back his hands, revealing a bloodied palm. Her resolve softens and a teeniest bit of guilt weighs in the pit of her stomach.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Nick,” she rushes her words as she scurries to the bathroom to collect a towel. She applies it to his nose, replacing his pinched fingers with the large bath towel.

I forgot how much of a fighter you are, he thinks bitterly. Not towards her – never – but to himself to failing to take that into considered before impulsively trying to demonstrate his case.

“We need to stop doing this,” he tries to joke. His voice is nasal and muffled. His humor is rewarded with a scathing look from the blonde in question.

“That was rude,” she slaps his arm. “You deserved that!”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he flashes a smile.

“Wonderful,” she deadpanned.

The main door creeps open and a head peered through.

“I heard something,” Kelly teeters in worriedly. “Are you alright – Dad? What happened?”

“Your dad ran into a door,” Adalind makes an excuse immediately.

Nick throws her a look, betrayed.

“Doesn’t sound like him…” Kelly mumbled, skeptical. He turns to his mother, brow raised. “Did you close it on him?”

“Yep!” Nick chuckled.

“I’ll go get ice,” Kelly offered. He trotted out of the room, leaving the door agape in his wake. The couple turned to each other; Nick found the situation humorous while Adalind groaned, exasperated.

“You’re the one who puts me in a chokehold and I’m the bad guy,” she glares.

“You gave me a bloody nose,” Nick counters.

“You wanted me to show you how’d I defend myself!”

“I’m impressed. Hurt but impressed,” he flashes a smirk. “I forgot you can be scrappy. That’s on me. While I’m impressed, I’d still like you to attend the seminar. Just for a show of support. Plus, you owe me now.” He points to his nose.

“You suck,” she spins on her heel to the bathroom. She ran a fresh rag under cold water and replaces the soiled towel with the smaller, damp one. “Fine,” she grumbles. “I’m there.”

“Thank you,” he beams. “How’s the head?”

“Fine,” she huffs. “You’re lucky I didn’t go for Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“My elbow had a perfect shot of you know where,” she takes her turn to flash a sarcastic grin. He grimaced, wincing at the scenario.

“No you didn’t,” he tried to bluff.

“You tell yourself that,” she parted some of his hair tenderly. “Don’t get blood on my shirt, please,” she whines when he leans forward to nestle his head into her nook of her neck. His nose had stopped bleeding and he tossed the rag into the bathroom, letting it lie on the floor, while his arms tug her closer by the waist.

“Keep it PG; we have a child coming any moment now,” she warns in a low tone.

If on cue, Kelly trots in bearing the iced gift, and hand its to his mother who presses it on Nick’s nose. Nick winced but settles a moment after, enjoying the sensation.

 “Love you, kiddo,” Nick returned and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Good night, sweetheart,” she pulled him close with a tender hand and kissed the crown of his head. “Close the door behind you, please,” Adalind requested. Kelly abided, hugging his parents and bidding them a good night.

Nick wouldn’t admit it, but both knew he liked being doted on. Adalind tended to his minor injury while he drew patterns on her back with his thumb. She still lacked any pants or shorts, much to his enjoyment, and his fingers sometimes skimmed the sliver of flesh underneath the hems of her t-shirt.

“You’re still on my shit-list,” she tried to be serious, but her tone was waning and replaced by warmth. “You’re not cute at all,” she laughed as she tried to swat his inquisitive fingers. “You’re not that lucky tonight,” she bluffed.

They both knew she was riled. A riled Adalind led to one of two things: a very rewarding round (or three) under the sheets or something very expensive would have to be replaced. Fortunate for Nick, he was confident the outcome would be the former.

He patted the bed quickly.

“Cheeky but no,” she dismissed.

“You’ll have to come in at some point,” he reasoned. “Look at how comfy and warm and plush it is,” he continued to tease.

“I still have to get pants!” She snorted.

“Why?” His brows pinched. “They’ll just be on the floor anyways.”

She uttered a high-pitched squeak, poorly hiding her laughter behind her hand.

“Does that work for you often?” she asked. Her face was pink.

“Sometimes,” he grins. He reclines back, holding his upper weight on his hands. “My Plan B was to hold this over your head,” he squeezes his nose, “but I thought that was unfair.”

“And expired,” she counters. “You already used it to get me to attend this ridiculous class. What else is up that arsenal of yours?”

“I was going to show you,” he shrugged. “My work speaks for itself.”

“You need to do more than that. I’m not just going to take your word in return for my time and talents.”

He gaped. She winked.

“This isn’t our first round!” He counters.

“It’s been so long…” she exasperated playfully. “I can barely remember.”

“Thursday! Thursday, Adalind. Four days ago. Not long at all.”

Two could play the game. A riled Adalind was one thing; a riled Nick was another. Together? Worth every minute of foreplay and delayed (but absolute) gratification.

“Still not convinced,” she prolonged.

She didn’t have time to scream when her feet were suddenly lifted from the floor and her body hit the soft cushion of the comforter. Nick loomed his weight over hers, trapping her with both arms stationed at each side.

“I’m not in the mood for romance,” she whispered. Her eyes darkened, and pupils dilated.

“I know,” he replied huskily. He leaned down too quickly for her to catch. His mouth silenced hers.

“Oomph,” she muttered when his body lowered onto hers. His hands slid upwards, holding her hands above her head. The heat swelling in between them was exhilarating. Her bottom lip was caught between his teeth when she tried to speak, and he released it a second later, so he could attend to the slip of flesh on her shoulder.

“I hate when you take your time,” she whined. Her body arched on instinct when his hand – while the other kept hers at bay above her head – cradled her knee. “Nick! Ow!” she hissed when he nipped a bit too harshly.

“That’s for my nose,” he tusked. His tone shifted to teasing. “Patience is a virtue.”

“If you don’t take care of it soon, I’ll do it myself,” she threatened lightly.

“With what hands?” he dared to smirk. He squeezed her wrists as a reminder she didn’t have any leverage.

“This better be good,” she growled.

“It always is,” he promised with a chaste kiss. “Now, flip onto your stomach.”

 

 

“This was an awful idea,” she groaned. She had arrived early, finding Hank and Nick situated in the shade far from the action. Hank had vanished – talking to a pretty woman close to his age. Both Nick and Adalind exchanged a knowing look.

“Five bucks he gets her number,” Nick bet.

“Ten he doesn’t,” Adalind rolled her eyes. “She’s out of his league. That top alone costs more than this entire outfit,” she gestured to herself. “Thirty some year-old divorce; drives a large SUV; two kids in prep school and a large breed dog.”

“I think she’s a late-twenty-something year old. No kids. Went to college and got a masters. Drives a modest car and spends most of her income on her closet – thus, her brand name getup – her hair, and goes to the gym religiously. That’s someone whose fit and knows it.”

“Deal,” she struck with a nod.

“I look forward to the free beer after this,” he chuckled.

“I look forward to the look of utter disappointment on your face when he comes back with excuses,” she stuck out her tongue.

She winced when she tried to stretch, feeling her muscles complain with each movement.

“Sore?” Nick asked with a knowing grin.

Though it had been two days since she agreed to go, and the effects of their last romp lingered in her lower back and thighs. Damnit, he knew it, too. She still felt numb the next morning and felt like she just ran the Boston Marathon. She doubled over, relishing in her break from the action, and ignoring Nick so she wouldn’t have to dignify his remark with a response.

“Nice shorts,” Nick continued.

She had selected something lesser as the temperatures were predictably hot. Black yoga pants, green halter top, and plain black-and-grey tennis shoes. Most of it was because Portland was practically steaming. The other part was because she knew the bottoms would drive Nick up the wall – he was a sucker for anything that showcased her legs. She needed all the edge she could get, especially knowing he was at his best game.

“He conned you into this, too?” Adalind exasperated when two new but familiar figures came into view.

“It’s nice cardio,” Rosalee chirped.

“I’m here for the comradery,” Monroe smiled.

“Anyone else?” she turned to Nick, eyes narrowed.

“Nope,” Nick grinned. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her back.

“Wrong,” Monroe interrupted.

Bud and his wife Phoebe planted themselves on the lawn, scolding their kids running wildly around with juice boxes.

“Pure coincidence,” Nick blinded – genuinely surprised.

“That’s me, actually,” Rosalee sheepishly smiled. “I invited Phoebe.”

“They couldn’t shake the kids?” Nick asked lightheartedly.

“Nah, guess not,” Monroe chuckled.

Kelly and Diana opted to stay home. Kelly loved to sleep in. Diana wanted to paint and not be distracted by some “dumb thing”. Adalind couldn’t agree more but she was already roped in. Diana could at least be spared. Kelly was sound asleep mid-day when they left, snoring like no tomorrow.

The triplets were spending the day with their aunt and grandmother. Last weekend they were spoiled by their other set of grandparents. It was already pre-arranged. Why Rosalee wouldn’t take the time to stay in where it’s air conditioned and cool was beyond Adalind.

 

Wu’s instructions were pretty self-explanatory. While many women partnered amongst themselves, Nick kept his promise and retained Adalind on his side. She tried to be slick and snatch Rosalee, but the couple was inseparable, and Monroe had already leered her a few yards away in the prime shaded spot.

“Bastard,” she mumbled. Monroe chortled at her expense.

Monroe and Rosalee were having fun from the start. Not to say Monroe let the love of his life easy – not at all. Monroe attempted to get the upper hand but Rosalee was fast footed. He may have strength but Rosalee was fast, scrappy, and happy to exploit his weak points.

Adalind and Rosalee were similar on that front. However, both she and Nick were a stark contrast to their friends. Their competitive streak was intense, and they had too much on the line. Adalind wouldn’t hear the end of it if she lost and Nick hated being proven wrong.

They quickly fell off script.

“I learned from last time,” Nick taunted. His face was on her left, within her peripheral, and she could she him gloat plain as day. He has her arms confined, wrapping his arms around her upper torso and locking at her elbows at her side with his forearms. “What else you got? No powers either!” He demanded, seeing her eyes skim for something throw telekinetically.

She hooked her foot behind his, kicking with all her might and twisted, knowing she’d likely fall front of him. He tumbled forward, too, as the force knocked off his balance. They fell into the grass in a loud commotion. He planted both hands at either side of her. His chest was flat against her back for a split second before he pushed himself up and off her.

“Adalind!” He admonished. “That was dangerous! I could have really hurt you! Are you okay?” his voice softened, and she could tell his concern was genuine.

“I’m not breakable,” she affirmed. She rolled over, so they’d be chest to chest. She offered a smile.  “Also… what’s one of your main rules?”

His brows knitted together. “Uh…”

“Don’t let your guard down,” she answered for him while she simultaneously brought her knees up from under him to push him off her. He rolled over with an oomph, hand soothing the sore spot under his rib.

“Going for the kill shot?” He asked when she loomed over him, arms crossed.

“Bang, bang,” she mimicked a gun with a finger.

“Not your style,” he smiled. “You’re more of a tear-off-a-limb type.”

“Too much work,” she rolled her eyes. She helped him up on his feet. “Adalind 1, Nick 0,” she boasted.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll give you that one. Also, nice hickey.”

“Thanks. My husband is mouthy.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Explain Kelly’s penchant for biting as a baby!”

“Babies do that!”

“Not that excessively! He gets that from you!”

“Tomato, Tomato.”

Round two benefitted Nick as he pinned Adalind to the ground, holding her wrists hostage at her side. She glared up at him with fire in her eyes. Her legs were useless as he was snug between them.

“Just like old times,” he teased.

“Gonna strip me of my powers again?” she lamented in a dull tone.

“Not sure if it’d work this time.” He shrugged. His head tilted. “Worth a shot though.”

“N-” she was cut off by his mouth. She hummed, surprised but not deterred. “I learned my lesson this time,” she chuckled when he pulled away. “I didn’t bite. That’s your thing.”

“In all honesty, I like you with your powers. You’re not completely defenseless,” he grinned, “or useless.”

“What’s that’s supposed to me?” she cried out.

“It means step up your game,” he provoked playfully. He pushed himself off her and onto his feet. He extended his hand to pull her up, too. “We’re even,” he announced.

“Best two out of three?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

 

“If I didn’t know them any better, I’d say they were trying to kill each other,” Rosalee commented from the side.

“Again?” Monroe pitched. His eyes squinted at the pair. “I don’t want to be that person, but I’d say they are doing to opposite of trying to kill each other. Kind of bold of them,” he scrunched his nose.

“Adalind likes cheap shots,” Rosalee narrated.

“Nick is always forward,” Monroe observed.

“She’s quite the handful – not sure how he’s keeping a good grip on her,” Rosalee expressed with amazement.

“I’m not surprised. He’s determined to keep her still,” Monroe hummed.

“Ooh!” both winced when Adalind used the opportunity to throw Nick over her shoulder. He was leaning too close on one side. She shifted her weight on the other shoe and bent down, sending him forward. He landed harshly on his back at her feet.

Nick wasn’t going down with a fight and gripped her ankle, pulling her down, too. She squealed and clamored for an advantage but found none.

 

Adalind raised her forearm up, stopping Nick short as he peered down. He coughed when he couldn’t lower himself further, obstructed by her bony limb.

“Rude,” she sneered.

“Trying to choke me?” Nick questioned.

“If you were a Lowen, I’m stopping you from ripping my throat out.”

“Point taken. The view is nice, too.”

“Shut up,” she growled.

“I’m serious,” he laughed.

“I know – and it’s supposed to disarm you, not give you ammo to taunt me further,” she snarled.

“Trust me, I’m not that easily disarmed,” Nick shook his head. “It’s been an hour-and-a-half. We’re at an impasse. Want to cut early?”

“What are you thinking?’

“You owe me a beer,” he mused, “and after that, maybe hit the trailer?”

“What for?” she huffed, still regaining her breath.

“Privacy.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Where would we…?”

“We’ll figure that out later. Right now, these shorts need to go.”

“Oh,” she bubbled in laughter and released her arm.

“You don’t seem sore anymore or any less limited in movement,” Nick observed happily.

“Blame it on the adrenaline.”

“Will note,” he smiled. “Got enough to last another round?”

“Of this….? Or….?”

“Both?”

“You’re hopeless,” she laughed, losing breath.

“You’re the one who knows my weaknesses.”

Chapter 5: Baseball and Rivalries

Summary:

Baseball can be a bonding experience.... unless you're rivals. The one where Nick's New York roots pits him against his son's gluttony for misery aka a Red Sox fan. (Traitor)

Also - Adalind has her own preference, too.

Notes:

Started off with something slightly fluff/sentimental and then veered off into "?" land - but I'm on a writer's block so I let it flow.

Enjoy the shenanigans and my headcanons that Adalind is a stern Royals fan (no pun intended) (based off her Iowan roots & Grandfather's influence, refer to "The Farmhouse" in my works) and you can't take the New Yorker out of Nick.

And Kelly has a mind of his own.
Diana has a mention, too. :)

Bonding (Or Not) Over Baseball:

Author’s Note: We’re winding it back (in time!) Prepare for nostalgia.

Baby bonding time is spoiled by old rivalries: boys and baseball.

 

 

For this to work, Adalind thought decidedly… I can’t do it alone; I can’t shut him out.

The arrangement was awkward, to say the least. The hormones and chaos around them didn’t help in the slightest. She mulled over it silently, left to her own devices for hours at end.

The only solstice came in the form of the growing bump that became more and more obvious by the minute, weighing both heavily on her mild and her body. She cradled her child reassuringly, promising she’d raise her son right.

 

Skip the small talk; get straight to it! She scolded herself.

He sat across from her – as he always did, as she always did with him. They kept their distance and being more a guest (or refugee) in his home than anything else, she didn’t want to impose in his space and vice versa.

He took her in with every intention of stepping up to fatherhood, a plate she forced upon him and the latter fact sat uncomfortably well in the pit of her stomach. Nonetheless, she knew he was committed, and she wanted to meet him halfway, to ensure the process wasn’t already more painful than what it was.

It was almost comical how wide his eyes got when he noticed her stand up (always alert) and cross the living room, only to sit at his side on the couch.

“Is everything alright?” He asked immediately.

She nodded and opted for a small smile. Her nervousness was showing but she already made the bounds. She just had to see it through.

“I want you to be more involved – not that you aren’t because you’re doing way more than I’d ever expected and I can’t be more thankful…  Truly, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you…”

She was starting to ramble and way off track.

“Ugh, I’m messing this up… Bear with me, please, and don’t say anything,” she stammered while pinching her nose. After a slow exhale, she raised her head. “He’s your son just as much as he is mine. I want you to know him as much as I do. Bonding at this point is super important and I don’t want to deny you these moments; when you’re at work, and I’m here, I have all this time to myself to talk to him, to feel him kick and wiggle and these tiny moments of communication, and I don’t want you to miss out on it. I get this is awkward and not really the most conventional set up but I’m okay with this,” she gestured between them, “instead playing ships in the night.”

Nick remained silent for a moment and replied only in a curt nod.

So much for progress, Adalind thought disgruntledly.

She had to be a bit forward, and like the first time, reach out for his hand and laid it atop of her rounded stomach. She felt him instinctively pull but a second later, relax. She released his wrist and his hand stayed.

“You don’t even have to talk to me,” she compromised. “Just talk to him. I’ll… listen to something else or put earbuds in if you don’t want me to listen.”

“How do I know if I’m doing this right?”

The man speaks!

“There’s not much to it. He’s very intuitive,” she reassured. “You’ll feel him. He’s restless.”

She’ll feel him alright. Nick might get a kick or two but Adalind’s entire womb was basically a battering ram for the little guy. She hid her discomfort well – she had grown accustomed to the sensation and the slight plain felt miniscule in comparison of knowing her child was safe and tucked away within her protective reach.

“I don’t feel him,” Nick replied worriedly.

“Because,” Adalind exasperated lightly, “he probably feels your anxiety. Just talk to him. Get him use to your voice. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Uh… hey,” Nick began with uncertainly. “I’m your dad.” He added, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Do I need to make introductions or something?” She playfully teased.

“No, I got this,” Nick snapped. “Sorry,” he amended softly to Adalind.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said.

She wasn’t sure if it was directed towards her or their son.

“About…?” She probed. “Here’s a hint: there’s enough anxiety in this room to propel us both into panic attacks – so someone needs to take the lead and I’m not sure if I’m the best qualified person for that.”

It dawned on her a moment later as she gauged.

She might be problem.

“Okay, I’m going to….” She reached over for her phone and earbuds. “I’m putting these in and then I’m taking a nap. I’ll let you take over. You can say whatever you want. I encourage you to keep the connection; don’t pull away. I’m just going to leave you two alone.”

And that’s what she did. She put her earbuds in, played her favorite podcast, ignored the urge to ease drop (a great feat!) and before she knew it, she was nudged awake by Nick.

Granted, it was a decent nap, and she was slightly disgruntled.

She noticed the tension in his shoulders drop considerably.

“Have a good chat?” She asked right way. Her voice was still groggy.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It was… nice.”

“I feel that way, too,” she commented, “when I talk to him.”

“I felt him kicked,” Nick supplied.

“Oh, that’s great! He’s usually kind of shy. It took Rosalee a couple times before he warmed up to her.”

He hummed but she didn’t miss the smile on his face. It was hidden but she could spy it.

“Thank you,” he added.

“I mean…” it’s a given, she wanted to say, but she opted for a “you’re welcome.”

“You can do it anytime,” she supplemented. “Just let me know. I get jumpy.”

He nodded.

“What was he like?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Before you came back, to Portland, to me; what was he like?”

“He’s very… active, worse than Diana actually. Kicks non-stop. I think he’ll come out early just because he’s bouncing like crazy. He operates on his own time, you know?” She’s smiling before she knows it. “He really likes Greek literature – I read the Odyssey to kill time and he was hooked.  I’m halfway through Orpheus and Eurydice right now. He loves green peppers – I don’t know where it came from, but he can’t get enough. Uhm, what else can I tell you? He doesn’t like thunderstorms. He likes it quiet. The racket makes him upset. If we’re on a bumpy road, he’ll throw a fit, which usually ends up with awful morning sickness for me. He might be a Red Sox fan? I didn’t pay attention to the game at first but every time they got a homerun or caught the other team’s ball, he went berserk. So either he’s really mad about them winning or he’s really happy.”

“Who were they playing against?”

“I don’t remember?”

“How long ago was it?”

“Uhm, last week – Tuesday or Thursday maybe?”

She felt interrogated.

“Think hard, please.”

“Does it matter?” She exasperated.

“Yes,” he exclaimed a little louder than usual. He adjusted his tone to a softer decibel. “I didn’t mean to be loud – but it’s important. Can you remember the colors?”

“Blue, I think.”

He pinched his nose and inhaled.

“What is the matter?” She pressed.

“Ssh – we need to have an important discussion,” he gestured to her womb with his finger.

“About what? Baseball??”

“This is between me and him,” he concluded. He bowed his head closer to her stomach, eyes stern. “This is unacceptable. After this breakthrough, only to find our you betray me, our family, like this.”

“Whoa – what? Nick! Do not chastise him like! He’s sensitive!”

“You’re right. I need validation first,” he said suddenly. He laid a hand on her stomach. “One kick if you’re a Red Sox fan; two if you’re an Yankees fan.”

“Do not listen to him!” She said to her child. “He’s irrational. You root for whoever you want to. If you’re a Boston fan, then so be it.”

He paused to listen, and in a moment, a look of disgust muddled his face. Adalind grinned, knowing the answer. She felt it firsthand.

“You traitor! This will not stand!” He boasted, rearing upright. He stared at Adalind. “Do not encourage this.”

“How would I know what kind of baseball loyalty he would be born into? If anything, he’d be a Kansas City Royals fan.”

Her grandfather reared her to follow them religiously, up until his death. She may not have followed the games, but she knew her go-to allegiance.

“Absolutely not!”

“Accept the fact he’s not a Yankees fan; he’s not,” she shrugged victoriously.

At least she knew who Nick rooted for now.

“Can we compromise and be happy he’s not a Cardinals fan?” She tried to compromise.

“He can’t be a Red Sox fan – it’s unnatural,” Nick scoffed.

“It’s a baseball team!”

“Says a Royals fan,” Nick countered with a scrunched nose.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he needs to be on the right team and the right team is the Yankees, not the enemy.”

“Times are changing,” she harrumphed. “He’s a Boston boy.”

Nick blinked.

“You take that back.”

“In this womb, we have two loyalties: Mama’s Royals and this Boy’s Sox’s. Yankees have no room in here.”

Nick was rendered speechless for a moment; enough for Adalind to take her cue and retreat.

 

The true testament came after Kelly was born. He was just a year old.

“What on earth…” Adalind fell into a whisper. “Nick! No!” She condemned loudly.

“He’s going to learn to like them,” Nick boasted with a grin.

“He looks so unhappy,” Adalind frowned. “Get that off him.”

“Get that off your head,” Nick retorted.

“This thing?” She pinched the rim of her hat. She tilted her head in mocking innocence. “Oh this? I just scrapped from the garage.”

“You mean the trash?”

“It was expensive, and I did it because I refuse to play into this,” she harrumphed.

“You mean the Yankees,” Nick deadpanned.

“How much was that onesie?”

“Not sure – Monroe bought it.”

“Monroe isn’t a Yankee fan,” Adalind caught on.

“He’s an astute listener and a generous friend.”

“Does he know Kelly is a Boston Boy?”

“Kelly is still impressionable,” Nick cradled him close to his chest. “There is hope yet.”

“Kelly looks like he’s in pain – why would you force him into something that he obviously hates?”

“He’s grumpy,” Nick soothed.

“Because his father forced that on him!” Adalind defended. “Here buddy,” she cooed. She collected the child in her arms and then propped her Red Sox hat on his head which nearly swallowed his face.

“See, he’s smiling – there’s my little boy,” she giggled. Kelly laughed along, grasping for the hat and pulling it off, only to clutch it for life.

“There’s something terribly wrong with his picture,” Nick growled.

“Don’t worry – you root for your team and he’ll root for his,” she beamed.

“We will save this for never…. And put on something else,” she kissed the boy’s cheek.

“Adalind, he’s my only son; let me have this, please,” Nick begged behind her.

“If I had it my way, we’d be a Royals family but alas, I respect your choice, I’ll stick with mine, and Kelly until he decides otherwise will be able to celebrate his choice of team without prejudice.”

Minutes later, Nick had to swallow his pride.

“If we ever, ever go see a Yankees game at the stadium when we visit my hometown, this will not happen; so enjoy it now,” Nick said poignantly.

“I think he looks adorable and look how happy he is,” Adalind wiggled the delightful boy in her arms. The cheery-cheeked child was comfortable in his navy-blue onesie – branded with the iconic B and baseball stitch pattern. On his feet, glaring red little socks.

“You… you even…. Why am I not surprised you went all out?” Nick glared at the baby sized baseball cap.

“Anything and everything for my little one,” she kissed the boy’s cheek.

“The glove, too??”

“He loves the mitt! It’s his favorite color!”

“I – no – why??!!” If only either of them was a Yankees fan.... If only! “Did you get any other team??” He dared to ask.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she raised her head.

“You coached him,” he accused.

“I did no such thing,” she denied. “Like I said, if I had my choice, he’d be a Royals fan.”

“I can’t take him out like that, not with this,” Nick gestured to his baseball cap with the NY snitched in front. A grey shirt with a similar sigma revealed itself under his favorite black zip up. “What father would I be if I can’t even keep my son in line?”

“Of all people to throw tantrums, I thought it’d be you,” she nuzzled the boy.

“Adalind, I’m serious. I’m outnumbered. This can’t happen.” 

“You’re not outnumbered, wait a second,” she exasperated. “Don’t change him again. I’ll be out in a second. I’m sorry, baby,” she made faces at Kelly to make him laugh. “I’ll always have your back.”

 

“Better?”

Nick’s mouth went dry for a second and then a face splitting smile emerged.

“So much better,” Nick gauged appreciatively.

“Sorry, you’re hanging solo tonight,” she cooed the infant while taking him in her arms.

She sported the same shade of grey as Nick, only in jersey form with blue striped sleeves and NEW YORK meshed in front. Her long curls were fitted with a near-black cap. For someone not fond of jeans, they were snug in the best way.

 

There were more Red Sox fans than Yankees at the party, making Kelly a hit amongst the guests. When they got a lead, he squealed, cueing everyone else to cheer – going nearly deaf.

It was comical watching Nick pout at the infant clapped at the Yankees defeat.

“I have no commitment,” Adalind defended when people gauged her attire.

“Except to me,” Nick grinned.

“Next year I’m supporting him,” she thumbed towards Kelly. “We’re trading every other year.”

“She’s coddling him; he doesn’t know the difference,” Nick defended adamantly.

“He’s smarter than you think; he knew what you were doing.”

Nick wasn’t deterred.

“You have a Red Sox jersey?”

“I’m not telling you, just so you can burn it.”

“I wouldn’t burn it. It just would find another place.”

“Like the trash?”

“Yes.”

“This one will go with it then.”

“That’s staying; over my dead body. It’s a fit. It stays.”

Kelly wiggled happily to Sweet Caroline, much to his mother’s contagious amusement.

 

Kelly didn’t’ waver. If anything, his fixation turned obsessive.

Nick huffed.

Adalind remained neutral, opting to don her KC Royals than take a side as rivalries intensified. Once Diana was suckered in, Adalind had to even the playing ground.

She donned her red jersey in coalition with Kelly once Nick convinced Diana Yankees were the superior team – that and like any older sister, rivalries with siblings were a thing, so all the more reason.

During the big games, the household was split. And wages were bargained.

 

“When the Yankees win, you take my end of the chores.”

“When the Red Sox whoop the Yankees again, I’m taking your spot in the garage for a week.”

 

“Nick, stop hiding my jersey!”

“It’s on the bed – what do you mean?”

“That one is for your team!!”

“Exactly!”

 

“What’s up, Old Man? Oh, was it that missed ball? I think it was!”

 “Son… don’t start; you don’t want to eat your words.”

“The only thing that eating anything is the Yankees eating dirt!”

“I warned you!”

“Mom – make him stop – let me go, dad!”

“I’ll leave it between you two.”

 

However, during Royal games, everything calmed.

Ever the dutiful children, Diana and Kelly donned their matching hats in solidarity with their Midwest-supporting mother. And they could agree the Cardinals sucked – even if they won.

“Yet when I ask for some support, you two say you can’t play sides,” Nick gruffed when he spotted mother-and-son on the couch.

“I’m not that committed,” Kelly shrugged, “but I am committed to hating the Yankees. There are somethings you can’t force me to do.”

“Or bribe,” his mother pitched.

“Or extort,” Kelly smirked.

“Where did I go wrong with you?”

“Ouch,” Kelly sarcastically replied. “Nah, I’m just an improved generation with better taste and functional eyes.”

“He got his stubborn streak from you,” Adalind reminded.

“No, he was encouraged by you,” Nick retorted with a pointed finger.

“He was barely a fetus,” Adalind sighed.

“I could’ve had us all on the same page,” Nick rolled his eyes.

“And the same losing streak,” both mother and son remarked.

“Even the Royals are up,” Kelly tusked. “That’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll ignore that,” Adalind grumbled.

“I can’t believe I’m being disrespected in my own home…” Nick scowled.

“I’m still on your side!” Diana called out from her chair.

“I can count on at least one of my kids to make good decisions!” Nick confirmed.

“Heard that and I’m not bothered!” Kelly returned loudly.

 

Even distance during the college years didn’t help – though Adalind took full advantage to take the family to a live Royals game. (She was the only enthusiastic one).

Facetiming during the competitive game consisted of smack and threats; with Kelly donning full Boston garb while his dad never once took off his beloved cap. Adalind by then knew Kelly could stand on his own and had revitalized the once discarded Yankee attire Nick loved so much – though Kelly was insulted she’d downgrade herself to such lengths.

He was also the only one left, considering Diana was full embroiled as a Yankee much thanks to his father’s influence.

“I can stand on my own, no problem,” the youngest boasted at home during a game.

His father had wrapped protectively around their mother, wearing the same garb as Nick, while Diana stuck her tongue out. He marked her his ‘good luck’ charm whenever she aligned herself with ‘the right team,’ his words – not hers.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nick jolted up, startling Adalind who scrambled up.

“No! No! The fuck?” Kelly wailed.

“Yes! That’s what you get for talking all that bullshit!” his father boasted.

“No! This isn’t happening.” Kelly stared in disbelief.

Diana hollered and slapped hands with her stepfather, celebrating the win.

Adalind rubbed Kelly’s back, offering some comfort.

“You put in the energy,” she assured. “That still matters.”

“Even though it’s wasted!” Diana teased.

 

 

 

When the question of grandchildren came into play, it was no doubt Delaney would follow in Kelly’s footsteps.

“Why,” Nick grumbled when his granddaughter teetered in with the same style baseball cap as her dad.

“You can’t taint this one,” Kelly grinned.

“Never say never,” Nick dared as he plucked her off the ground. “Don’t let him misguide you. Yankees or nothing.”

“Yankees are gross,” Delaney squealed.

“Atta girl,” Kelly approved with a slight tussle of hair.

“You break your old man’s heart,” Nick shook his head.  

 

As for Diana, her little girl was an individual, too – and much everyone’s surprise – a Dodger’s fan.

Chapter 6: Prompt Challenge: Pick-Her Up

Summary:

Adalind hated being picked up. That didn't thwart attempts though.

Or how Nick can get away with it.

Challenge: Less that 2k words

Success! 

Word Count: 1723

 

Adalind hated being picked up.

It was a personal peeve of hers. She didn’t want to be seen as some small, helpless creature able to be plucked and poised on the whim of another.

She was five-foot-two: petite, not miniature.

Nick, for the most part, was respectful of the “do not pick up Adalind” rule.

There were exceptions: most of which were not Adalind approved.

Like the time they had an argument – something stupid, totally avoidable if neither one let their pride get in the way – but she closed it with a pinch of her nose and waving him off. “Just – go – somewhere, I don’t care; Take what’s yours and leave for, like, thirty minutes. I can’t stand your face right now.” In response, he took his phone, his wallet, car keys, and – to her utter surprise – her. The smooth bastard decided to play another smartass move, hoisted her over his shoulder, and briskly walked out of the kitchen while she thrashed and cursed him out.

Right up to the stairs, into the bedroom, where what they did behind close doors was no one’s business but their own.

Or the time they made it official: They were the owners of the Dutch Colonial on Freemont St. Kelly and Diana had already charged inside, claiming their prospective rooms, while Nick held Adalind at bay. “What”, she had asked impatiently. His grin grew and gestured for her to come closer but not towards the open door. “Nick – what is happening?” She demanded. She stepped forward and realized too late what trap she fell for. His bent low, reach out his hands, and she felt her entire being lift from the porch while one arm hooked under her knees and the other cupped her back. She scrambled for support, clinging around his neck, scowling as he gloated. 

“No – ah – stop, I don’t – Nick! Why would you do that? You know I hate it.”

“Humor me, for tradition’s sake,” he boasted as they finally crossed the threshold. It was cute, she admitted after the fact.

There were others, too:

Like the time he tossed her in the lake despite her numerous protests. She just finishing drying her hair after an expensive blow out. She just wanted to soak in the sun, drink her hard seltzer, and maybe dip her toes in the water. The only water she liked was the one not infested with who knows what – like the hot tub that smelled strongly chlorine, so much so, she doubted any bacteria survived its heavy dosage.

Yet, Nick took his opportunity to grab her wrist while she handed him a beer, get a hold of her waist and lift her off the dock and into the water. His quip of “see kids, she doesn’t melt!” as she emerged from the ripples was enough to garner the cold shoulder until he weaseled himself back into her good graces with plenty of refills and massaging cooling gel onto her ripened skin.

Or time she insisted on changing a lightbulb. In reply to her “hold on, let me get a ladder,” Nick opted to intercept the blonde on a mission, hoist her up by the legs until she felt three feet taller and way off balance. She dug her nails into his shoulder while using her free hand to screw the new bulb in. She shook the entire time – not used to having her entire weight uprooted.

“Don’t do that again,” she slapped the same shoulder she all but embedded her fingertips in. “Scared me half to death.”

“You know I’d never drop you,” he replied with his signature grin. “You barely weigh a thing.”

“You say that and then one day, oh look, a broken leg! Hmm,” she glowered.

“Hasn’t happened,” he countered.

“Yet,” she finished.

To his credit – she had yet to break a leg.

Rather than let her walk out of frame to grab a chair or ladder, Nick always seemed to insist that he pluck her up and prop her against his shoulder while his arm kept a stern grip under her knees or wherever it was convenient.

“Why,” she always sang in complaint.

“Because,” he returned ambiguously each time, never offering a solid answer – much to her frustration.

If she needed a book on a high shelf, a set of dishes she saved for special occasions, the pair of shoes she set aside for that epic outfit, she never had a chance whenever Nick saw the opportunity to remind her of how tiny and weightless she was compared to him.

 

When Sean visited for Christmas once (Diana’s pitch, not any of theirs) he tried to be helpful by reaching the fine china (no problem) as they set up the festivities. It was then Adalind realized she didn’t like people grabbing things for her – and looked instinctively at Nick who rarely if ever reach over her to retrieve something but opted to give Adalind the lift to do it herself.

“I’m just trying to help,” Sean grumbled sourly when she thwarted him with a glare.

“Got it, honey?” Nick intervened.

“Wait – wait – wait, no, wait, okay – got it?” Adalind instructed as Nick hooked around her knees. “Are you sure? Nick – don’t! Ahh! Okay – hold it – let me get a good grip,” she rambled as she dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Alright… easy… Nick! I said easy! Oh my… please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me, please don’t drop me…”

“Never,” Nick assured for what seemed like the millionth time. His easy grin did little convincing.

“I could always help,” Diana smirked.

“I think not!” Adalind squealed, knowing what her daughter had in mind.

“I see where Kelly gets it,” Nick chuckled.

“I don’t like being plucked off the ground like nothing,” Adalind pursed her lips.

“It’s not fun! You can fall at any moment!” Kelly interjected when he emerged from view. “And your head goes funny and your stomach does flips.”

“Not helping,” Nick sang lowly. “The quicker you grab it, the sooner I can let you down,” he voiced to Adalind.

“I have it! See? Please let me down,” she pleaded after raising the proof of fine china.

 “Is it always a production like this?” Sean furrowed his brows, unimpressed.

“Dad does it to annoy Mom; Mom slaps him on the arm each time, but it doesn’t stop him,” the pre-teen boy replied smoothly.

As if on cue, the blonde smacked the man’s arm and pointed in his face.

“Not funny,” she pouted. “I hate that.”

Nick was too amused, grinning wildly.

“I can’t win either way, kid,” he turned to Kelly. “If I get it, I’m infringing on her independence; If I let her do it, I’m useless. Damned if I do, I damned if I don’t.” He reverted to the blonde. “Also, I like the thing you do when you scrunch your nose – yeah, that.”

“She only does it when she’s annoyed with you,” Diana replied and then glanced at her brother. “You do the same thing with your nose.”

“Yeah – and you still lift me up when you don’t need to! Can you please stop levitating me?!” Kelly retorted.

“Never!” Diana replied brightly.

“Ugh!” Kelly exasperated.

“Mmm!” Adalind whined behind pursed lips.  

Just like that – Sean could see the resemblance between mother and son; and father and step-daughter. It was uncanny. Kelly may have taken after his father but the expressions? Identical to his mother. Vice versa for the latter – with both entirely too pleased with riling up the formers.

 

There was a couple of exceptions to Adalind’s rule.

Like after a long separation, how she’d propel herself onto him and latch – hooking her ankles behind his back – and he’d support her weight on his forearm on instinct with no complaint.

Or when they’re on the couch and he’s not too fond of how she claimed the opposite end – so he’d remedy the situation by uprooting her (bridal style) and sitting down in her spot, with her in his lap – tucked under his arm, of course, to prevent escaping (not that she’d entertain the thought).

“This can’t be comfortable,” she’d laugh.

“You’re warm,” he’d nuzzle.

“Your hands sure feel cold,” she’d tease when his wandered. “Need a blanket?”

“Human contact has been proven more efficient at exchanging heat.”

“That is an awful pick up line,” she exclaimed. “I’m sure clothes hinder the efficiency of that theory.”

“We can do it the right way later tonight,” he’d shrug.

“Correction – that is the worst pick up I’ve ever heard,” she hooted.

 

Or when things got a little hot and little heavy and next thing she knows, Adalind finds herself sandwiched between a wall and Nick’s blocky self.

Or the kitchen counter. Or the laundry machine.

That man was a phenomenal multi-tasker.

Or the time he literally grabbed her mid-pace after a heated ‘discussion’, tossed her in the bed (not rough, granted he was looking for a cushy surface to plop her on), and while she should’ve been mad that he’d toss her like a ragdoll (not really, she was being dramatic) the gesture ignited a very different feeling.

“Something is wrong with me,” she groaned, “because I shouldn’t be okay with that – that he’d grab me like that – I get it, he was trying to make a point and I was all over the place – but like the principle being no man should resort to that kind of solution – but I betrayed my own code by thinking it was exciting and – damn it! And let’s say I did go through what I was thinking of doing the moment I hit the bed, then I’d enable a bad habit of awfully good distraction sex and that’s the last thing I need!”

She walked out, went to a bar to a Rosalee to figure out the motions, came back to a very apologetic Nick, who was stunned by her request he do it again. Just that once. Not to enable a pattern. But enough to get it out of the system.

(Hmm…The naivety…)

Or the time she was awoken by the sensation of being airborne, to find herself ascending the stairs after Nick took him upon himself to relocate her from the couch she passed out on to the much more comfortable bed.

 

Adalind hated being picked up but Nick didn’t mind at all.