Chapter Text
The Power of (a Zaubertrank Enhanced) Suggestion
Part Four of the Mutually Assured… Series
I.
As soon as the patrol officer stepped aside and revealed Monroe to be their latest vic, Hap Lasser’s knight in faded flannel, Nick knew he was looking at a bad idea. He didn’t often think it, and he sure as hell wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but Adalind was right in that they needed to keep their association a secret - not just theirs but also Monroe’s connection to them as well. Without realizing the future risk he was taking, Nick had already exposed Monroe - ‘Clock Guy’ - to Hank, and Wu, and some of the other cops, but that didn’t mean he wanted any of them to continue to associate them together. That meant keeping Monroe away from all of his cases… at least on paper, and it also meant keeping him away from Hap Lasser.
So, Nick told Hank that he would handle the situation, and he got Hank to leave, but, before he could figure out another place for their vic to stay… let alone suggest it, he walked over to the two Blutbaden, and Monroe told him, “Hap and I went through a treatment program together.”
Suddenly, Nick’s need to keep Monroe out of his professional life was eclipsed by his instincts screaming at him that, seemingly hapless or not, Hap Lasser was not going to be a good influence on Monroe. For all involved, Hap needed to go somewhere else, and Monroe just needed to leave, period.
Standing with his feet hip width apart and his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, Nick tried to give off an air of relaxed concern. “You know, I’m not sure if this is such a good idea. Monroe has helped me out on a few cases in the past.”
In response to Nick’s understatement, Monroe snorted, though he offered no further complaint or contradiction. In fact, it was Hap with the questions. “Dude, are you like some kind of CI or something?” Before either Monroe or Nick could respond, the vic pressed, “what’s the pay like for that?”
“It’s nothing so formal,” Nick denied, shaking his head slightly in emphasis but also casually smiling to sell his nonchalant ruse. “Monroe has simply performed his civic duty.”
“I guess that’s cool, too, man,” Hap complimented a scowling Monroe.
“But you see how we might not want to involve Monroe in this now,” Nick continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Your buddy is a good guy, and we wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”
“Oh, trust me, Monroe can take care of himself!”
“Still,” Nick insisted. “I’m not supposed to combine my cases.” Removing his hands and shrugging in a ‘what can you do about it’ manner, he both justified and excused his objection with, “it’s protocol.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense,” Hap spoke slowly as he puzzled his way through Nick’s explanation.
Under his breath, Monroe snarked, “I’m glad at least one of us could follow that logic train
wreck
.”
Sounding as forlorn as he looked, Hap glanced up at Nick with despondent eyes. “But where am I gonna go?”
“Yes, Detective,” Monroe echoed his friend, though his tone wasn’t sad but, instead, was accusatory. “Where else exactly did you have in mind for the
homeless
, perhaps
in danger
man to stay tonight?”
Despite his every attempt and his best intentions, Nick couldn’t prevent a self-pleased smirk from pulling up the corners of his mouth. “I have an… associate who would be more than happy to help you out, Hap. Plus, in their own words, their place has
better decor
than Monroe’s, and trust me when I say that
no one
would ever even think to look for you there.”
As an aside, Monroe muttered, “I’m going to need to buy some more wine.”
In his excitement, the vic never heard the seemingly incongruous remark. “Wow, you really take the whole serve and protect motto seriously, don’t you?”
“Yeah, he’s definitely
serving
something right now with this plan of his.”
Even someone as oblivious as Hap Lasser couldn’t fail to hear both Monroe’s words and the sarcasm with which he delivered them. But Nick didn’t allow any further conversation between the two Blutbaden, sending Monroe on his way with a pointed, “you should probably be leaving now. I’m sure there’s a clock waiting for you at home. Hap will be fine.”
“Yeah,” Monroe nodded, turning and walking away without protest. “It’s not Hap I’m worried about now.”
Both Nick and his vic watched him leave, neither saying anything until Monroe disappeared from sight. But, as Nick had already learned during their short acquaintance with each other, Lasser couldn’t stay quiet for long. With a thumb hooked over his shoulder in the direction Monroe had moved, Hap asked, “what do you think he meant by that?”
Instead of answering him, Nick suggested, “why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Lasser? I need to speak with my partner about the change of plans before I can take you to where you’ll be staying for the night, and he has stepped away to locate our arson investigator, so it’ll be a few minutes. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have any peppermint schnapps around here, would you?”
Nick flashed the other man a wry grin on his way out of the detectives’ bullpen. “I’m afraid our liquor cabinet is running a little dry these days.”
By the time he found Hank in Orson’s office and they listened to his preliminary findings on not only the fire at Hap’s home but also that of his brother’s, Nick’s mind was entirely focused on the case and distracted away from their still waiting vic and his plans for him. It wasn’t until both he and Hank sat back down at their desks and his partner asked, “hey, what’s Hap Lasser still doing here?,” that Nick recalled what he had, perhaps foolishly, set into motion thirty minutes earlier.
“Clock Guy,” he responded flippantly, using Hank’s nickname for Monroe to hopefully better protect their real association. “Not that good of a buddy, apparently.”
Standing once more and reaching for his keys, Hank said, “please don’t tell me you’re going to saddle Juliette with him. She already has to put up with your ugly mug.”
“You know, I am still planning on proposing to her.” Nick tugged his coat off of the back of his chair, slipping it on and then slipping his keys into the right front pocket. “I don’t think Hap Lasser is the best way to convince her to spend the rest of her life with me.”
“You haven’t popped the question yet? What’s the hold up?” Hank folded his arms behind his head and then tilted back in his chair, grinning up at Nick. “It’s been my experience that those four little words are some of the easiest a man can say to a woman.”
Suddenly and against his will, all Nick could see and hear was Adalind telling him that she was having dinner with Hank. “Let’s just hope you don’t go saying them again any time soon!” If Hank picked up on the full meaning behind his words, he didn’t react to it, and Nick quickly changed the topic, reverting back to something much safer than engagement rings and proposals, though, unbeknownst to Hank, still related to Adalind. She, apparently, was now Nick’s bad penny. “As for Lasser, there’s a civilian who is completely unrelated to this case and who owes me a favor.”
“That’s some favor!”
Nick rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “More like more favors than they can count. And, Hank, they can count
really
high.”
Hank just chuckled, dropped his chair, and returned to the paperwork littering his desk, uncaring for or not wanting any further details, which worked too well for Nick to question his partner’s trusting dismissal. Not waiting around for Hank to change his mind, Nick quickly left the squad room, beckoning his vic to follow with a simple and silent tilt of the head. Lasser loped after him like an overgrown puppy - a comparison that was probably all too apt, especially in regards to whether or not Hap was housebroken. Normally, he wasn’t a betting man, but Nick’s money this time was on
not
, which was just one of the reasons why they were on their way to Adalind’s and not Monroe’s. It was time for the Hexenbiest to make another payment against her insurmountable debt towards him, and this time the interest was going to sting - and stink - just that much more.
II.
Nick had seen Adalind in less before, and there was nothing inappropriate about what she had on despite the fact that it was nude, and lacy, and in part sheer. Yet, it was obvious that, when she opened the door - recently home from work and interrupted while changing, he had caught her by surprise. She looked… soft, relaxed. The moment was nothing like when she had emerged from the bathroom at the Bramble House, and Nick felt a frisson of awareness shiver through his body. He would have been annoyed with himself at the temporary lapse in good judgement, in the small transgression against Juliette, if he wasn’t already frustrated with Adalind.
Because, while she hadn’t been expecting him, she must have been expecting someone else to even bother answering her door when in the process of undressing. Nick couldn’t help but wonder who: who had Adalind believed to be outside of her house, ringing her bell; who did she trust that much that she allowed herself to be vulnerable - both emotionally and in allowing herself to be caught unawares? A dark, dangerous, possessive part of him - a part Nick didn’t want to and couldn’t even consider - thought that maybe it was her boss, her
other
partner, the man who ordered her to kill his Aunt and whose identity Adalind was still protecting.
His suspicions did absolutely nothing to set them off on the right foot.
And that was
before
Adalind saw Hap.
“No. No, Nick. Absolutely not!”
Suddenly exhausted, he sighed. “You don’t even know why I’m here.”
She folded her arms over her chest. If Nick didn’t know Adalind better, he would have taken the move as a sign of modesty. “I think the untrained Blutbad says it all.”
Considering his own, similar thoughts earlier at the station, Nick couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I don’t know about that, because here I was thinking that me saving your life and you owing me had something to say about this matter as well.”
“If this is the price I have to pay, then you should have let that Mellifer killer me.” Narrowing her gaze threateningly, she demanded, “take him to Monroe’s.”
“Hey,” Hap spoke for the first time. There was a childlike innocence to his tone that Nick predicted would grate on Adalind’s nerves. “You know Monroe, too? Wow, small world, huh?”
“Wait,” Adalind reared back, shocked by Lasser’s revelation of being acquainted with her newfound Blutbad friend. Perhaps that would be an added benefit for Nick. In bringing Hap to Adalind for safe keeping, she’d learn of something about Monroe she disliked so much that he’d be able to snuff out that unholy alliance before it could do too much damage to his sanity. “
You
know Monroe?”
“Apparently, they went through a
treatment
program together,” he told her.
“Oh,” Adalind murmured. Nick visibly watched her deflate, and he knew that, while her opinion of Monroe had not been diminished, she was going to relent and allow Lasser to stay with her. For a brief moment, Nick was pleased by her willingness to put the good of someone else ahead of her own comfort, but then he remembered that this was
Adalind
- Adalind who never did anything for him unless it could somehow benefit her as well, and Nick was frustrated and resentful all over again. “I guess you can’t stay there now, can you?” The question was rhetorical, and neither Nick nor Hap responded. Adalind stepped aside, sweeping an arm out in greeting as she also ordered, “well, come in then already.”
As they entered - Hap going first and immediately exploring the house and Nick following at a more hesitant pace, he couldn’t help but look around at the surroundings, Adalind’s
home turf
… so to speak. It wasn’t what he thought it would be - not that Nick spent that much time thinking about Adalind Schade’s living room… or any of her other rooms for that matter, but he had assumed that her house would be just as commanding, and cold, and chic as her wardrobe. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the room Nick found himself awkwardly standing in with the Hexenbiest was still tasteful and elegant. It was decorated in neutrals with splashes of metals and color. But it was also cozier than he would have predicted - more home and less showplace, and he was more comfortable in it than he’d ever admit.
Despite this, however, there was a decided lack of personal touches. Adalind didn’t have even a single photo displayed, and her choice in artwork seemed tame and safe. Nick didn’t think she’d have a burning caldron bubbling away on the stove or a shelf of grimoires out in the open for anyone to see, but there also wasn’t a single detail of her home that said ‘I’m a Hexenbiest.’ For that matter, he didn’t see any legal tomes, paperwork, or even a laptop sitting out either. In fact, the only trace of intimacy was her kicked off shoes - a delicate, sexy pair of no doubt very expensive stilettos just tossed aside like Adalind could not stand to have them on her feet even a second longer as soon as she stepped into her house.
“Hey lady,” Lasser bellowed out from somewhere within the bowels of Adalind’s place. “Where’s your TV?”
Although she didn’t yell, Adalind’s voice carried. “Televisions are for dilettantes.”
Practically on a run, Hap rejoined them. He was breathing hard, agitated. “I don’t exactly know what that means other than I can’t stay here without access to my shows.”
Rolling her eyes, Adalind offered, “there’s a fully stocked kitchen if that’s enough incentive for you to sacrifice one night of your bourgeois viewing habits.” Without waiting around to ask what
that
meant, Nick’s vic looped off to find the promised food. “What, no warnings against poisoning this one,” Adalind asked cheekily, hooking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate her unwanted and uninvited houseguest.
He simply ignored her. “I think calling Hap bourgeois was probably overestimating his sophistication.”
“Why are you here, Nick,” Adalind sighed, crossing the room to pick up a severe and structured suit jacket. She shrugged it on and then zipped it up, and it was like she was suddenly wearing armor to face off against him. Without wanting to explore why, Nick had to admit - at least to himself - that he hated it. “Well, besides the obvious: to take advantage of my generosity. Again.”
“If this is you being generous, I’d hate to see what you’re like when you’re small, mean, and petty.”
The smile she shot him was cruel and unkind. “Keep holding your grudges against me instead of finding a way to trust me, and you just might find out.”
Silently, Nick considered her warning. Since they had struck up their unorthodox arrangement, there had not been any more attacks on his life… at least, not directly. Any danger he had been in was because of his job, because of the cases he pulled. And Adalind had been if not upfront then at least eventually illuminatory about the Wesen world, about there potentially being Reapers after him, and about her latest assignment in regards to securing control over him as a Grimm. Hell, she even allowed her walls to slip and revealed a sliver of humanity during the whole undercover Ziegevolk debacle, and she obviously was capable of caring about someone besides herself - Monroe… even if she still showed only contempt and disdain for him. With all of that said, though, he still wasn’t capable of believing in her, and she still refused to tell him the name of the man who had ordered her to kill his Aunt Marie.
So, ignoring the contentious topic that was them working together, Nick, instead, told Adalind what she needed to know about Hap Lasser’s case in order to keep him safe long enough for Nick and Hank to figure out who wanted him dead. Because, in talking to Adalind, Nick realized that, despite what the arson investigator had told them, he didn’t believe the explosion of the geodesic dome to be an accident or the result of neglect. Hap’s brother recently dying in such a similar manner was simply too much of a coincidence for it not to mean something
more
.
As she walked him out, Adalind cautioned him, “the wards I have up on my condo should help, but Blutbaden aren’t exactly known for their
delicacy
, and I can’t help but think that anyone who is targeting them will be just as brutish… if not more so. So, if anything gets destroyed, Nick, I’m holding you responsible. You break it; you buy it.”
She didn’t even give him a chance to respond before his feet were seemingly
compelled
over the threshold, and then the front door was slamming and locking directly in his face. Nick rolled his neck, hearing and feeling a satisfying pop, before he shook off his irritation with the Hexenbiest and quickly thundered down and off her front stoop and across the sidewalk to where his car was parked. He was inside the old Land Cruiser for mere seconds - reaching over to tug his seatbelt over his shoulder - when the next thing Nick knew, he was
outside
of it once again… only, rather than opening the door and getting out under his own volition, someone had shattered the driver’s side window and yanked him out, literally throwing him across the street in their rage and with their Wesen strength.
Before Nick could get his bearings, get to his feet, or even get to his gun, the woman, the female Blutbad - and, seriously, how many Blutbaden were there in the city of Portland?! - was on top of him.
And then she wasn’t.
Pushing up so that he could lean against his elbows, Nick found Adalind - all five foot, four inches of her, because she hadn’t even taken the time to slip her heels back on - standing between him and his attacker. She hadn’t woged, but she must have still been using her powers, because it looked as if the she-wolf was fighting against both Hap Lasser who was holding her back by the arms and some kind of invisible shield. “What in the hell is wrong with you,” Adalind hissed. Nick saw her face undulate in ire, but she was able to rein back her anger and her instincts to let her Hexenbiest free. “A little discretion, please!”
“
That’s
what you’re mad about,” Nick grumbled. “Sure, let the crazy woman
kill
me, but don’t let the neighbors see her do it.”
Although a small, amused moue teased the corners of Adalind’s lips, no one else reacted to his complaints, and he wondered if, in their haze of fury and idiocy, respectively, the unknown female Blutbad and Hap couldn’t hear him. “Inside,” Adalind demanded, pointing imperiously towards her place across the street. “All of you.”
“Can I get some help?,” Nick requested.
Begrudgingly, the Hexenbiest gave him her hand. But then, after Nick was on his feet, she shockingly didn’t let go, and her touch was startlingly gentle. There were many explanations as to why she might have continued to hold his hand: she simply forgot that they were touching; she didn’t have faith that he could make it across the street, over the sidewalk, and then up the stairs that led to her porch on his own; or she could have been trying to project a more normal tableau for those curious eyes she didn’t want prying into her business, but there was a tiny flare of begrudging hope inside of Nick that thought maybe, just maybe, Adalind
cared
.
As soon as the idea crossed his mind, though, it was replaced by the concern that he probably had a concussion.
Although he was placed on Adalind’s couch with no small amount of
coaxing
, the pressure was merciful, so he didn’t fight it. It was only once he was reclined that Nick noticed his attacker sitting placidly in a side chair, though her stormy expression belied the calm repose of her body. Immediately, Nick knew that the restraint was not voluntary. As Adalind started to strip out of her jacket once more, she commanded Hap to do her bidding. “The first aid kit is under the master bathroom sink. Get it. Now. But touch anything else, and I’ll know.”
“What are you, some kind of witch or something,” Lasser grumbled, though he did as he was told.
“Yes, that’s exactly what she is,” the female Blutbaden growled. “A Hexenbiest.” Hap was back within a matter of moments. “A Hexenbiest who is disgustingly cozy with a Grimm.”
“Wait, she knows a Grimm, too?” Of course, that was Hap. In answer, the she-wolf waved towards Nick. “Whoa” the vic voiced his shock and awe. Then he denied, “no!” Within a second, he was surprised again. “Whoa! A cop
and
a Grimm? I didn’t know you could be both.”
“It’s not exactly like this Grimm gig pays,” Nick groused. And then Adalind used an antiseptic wipe against the cut on his forehead, and he nearly levitated off of her sofa. “Hey,” he snapped, yelling. “That hurts!”
“Don’t be a baby,” she mocked him, rolling her eyes. “God, I do practically everything for you already. Please don’t tell me that you need me to physically train you as well. I will not be your Mr. Miyagi.”
“You’re both disgusting,” his attacker sneered.
“Yeah, well, keep running your mouth,
bitch
, and I’ll take your voice away from you.”
“Look, lady, I really appreciate you allowing me to stay here and all, and you have some real primo grub, but I can’t let you talk to my sister like that,” Hap cautioned Adalind.
Simultaneously, Nick and Adalind queried, “sister?!”
It was then that Monroe walked into the house. He just strolled in - no knock, no warning, no invitation, though someone must have called him as soon as Nick had been attacked judging by the speed in which he had arrived - like he owned the place. Or, more accurately, like he already knew that he was always welcome. “Her name is Angelina,” Monroe informed them. He came around the couch, raised his brows in a salacious taunt when he noticed Adalind’s partial state of undress, and then folded himself into the second armchair.
“And you know this how,” Nick questioned.
“Oh, Monroe’s her boyfriend,” Hap volunteered.
“Ex,” Monroe contradicted. Not allowing anyone to react to either reveal, he changed the topic, asking something that he surely knew would cause a reaction big enough to eclipse the glimpse into his former, non-reformed life. “What’s with the lingerie? Do you always dress like that for company, or is the
casual attire
for Nick’s benefit?”
Without taking her attention from the gel she was applying to his cut - gel that stung nearly as badly as the antiseptic had, Adalind condescendingly replied, “that’s a $1,500.00 suit jacket, Blutbad. If you think I’m going to ruin it for a
Grimm
, you’re out of your howling mind.”
It was Angelina who asked, “
what
are you two,” her voice laced with curiosity, exasperation, and impatience.
Monroe snorted. “Trust me, we’d
all
like a little clarification on that.”
“I mean, she’s a Hexenbiest, and he’s a Grimm, but she wouldn’t let me kill him?”
“If anybody is killing Nick, it’ll be me.
In private
.”
“See, that should have made more sense than it did,” Angelina pointed out. And wasn’t Adalind going to slap some metaphorical tape over the she-wolf’s mouth? “The words were right, but the tone was just all wrong.”
Although it was said in what was supposed to be a whisper, Hap wasn’t exactly skilled at softness. “Are they sleeping together? Is she his sugarmama?”
“Alas, if only it was that simple,” Monroe sighed.
As the three Blutbaden continued to banter back and forth at Nick and Adalind’s… but mainly Nick’s… expense, rather than defending himself, Nick tuned them out. Frankly, he didn’t care what Hap and Angelina Lasser thought of him
or
his… whatever it was that existed between him and Adalind. It was supposed to be a partnership, but neither of them were there yet, though this moment with her actually taking care of him without that much derision felt like progress. After all, Nick hadn’t once questioned what she was doing to him or second-guessed her motivations. As for Monroe, his begrudging friend had already made his opinions on Nick’s personal life well and truly clear. He really did not need or want to hear them again.
When he actively stopped listening to them, the noise in the room just sort of… fell away. Nick took a deep breath and relaxed further into the soft cushions of the sofa. After the day he already had and the night he knew was ahead of him, it was nice to just… take a moment. As Adalind carefully applied a bandage to his forehead, Nick brushed the pads of his left fingers back and forth across smooth, soft fabric, the rhythmic touches soothing and grounding him. He exhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and fell even deeper into the comfort surrounding him. “I like this,” Nick murmured. “I like
you
like this,” he confessed to Adalind on a sigh.
“
Dude!
”
Monroe’s amazed exclamation made Nick jump, his gaze slamming back open. It was then that he realized two things. That smooth, soft fabric he had been caressing?
That
had been Adalind’s lace embroidered bra top. And the blissful silence had not been a product of Nick blocking out Monroe, Angelina, and Hap, but, instead, they had been stunned quiet by his unconscious touching of the Hexenbiest and then the words he had just spoken to her. But as bad as it all looked, and, yes, as attracted to Adalind as Nick unwillingly was, his admission had been innocent. He simply meant that he appreciated them being able to work together for once without bickering, or her flirting with him to make Nick feel uncomfortable, or either of them becoming hostile because of some stupid misunderstanding. Or, at least, that’s what he
thought
he had meant, but sometimes, with the Hexenbiest, it was difficult for Nick to always know what he meant and what he didn’t, what he felt and what he believed he was supposed to feel.
Instead of saying
any
of that, though, he rushed to excuse, to justify, to rationalize with a fairly loud and effusively stated, “head wound!”
Adalind stood then - not a hair out of place, not a touch of emotion on her face or in her voice - and, as she packed away her first aid supplies, she collectedly stated, “Angelina did shatter a window on him and threw him quite a good distance. It’s probably only because he’s a Grimm that she wasn’t able to do more damage.”
Her words seemed to break some kind of spell. As Adalind disappeared from the room, everyone else shot to their feet. Nick started to interrogate Hap and his sister, most of his questions prompting Angelina to charge him. Sometimes, she even woged. It took both Monroe and Hap to hold her back from finishing off the job she had started earlier. A few moments after she left, Adalind returned, once more fully dressed. She even took the time to strap her heels back on, so once again her height matched her formidable presence.
Eventually, in a fit because Adalind wouldn’t allow her a drink, Angelina took off under a cloud of absolutely unveiled threats against Nick, Adalind, and the city of Portland itself if anything were to happen to her brother while under their care. Monroe followed closely behind her, seemingly acting both against his own will but also like, with his ex in town, he no longer had a will of his own. And then Adalind was once more showing Nick to her front door, mumbling the entire way about how she couldn’t deal with anymore of this nonsense and
assuring
him that she’d
slip
Lasser something to make him sleep like a baby. All. Night. Long.
It was only once Nick glanced in his rearview mirror on his way out to Aunt Marie’s trailer that he realized it would have taken less effort and been less of a hassle for Adalind had she just used her powers to seal up his wound, but, instead, she had taken the time to doctor it like a Kehrseite. If he didn’t have so many other things on his plate, Nick might have stopped to consider her unexpected and curious actions. But he
did
have too many things to do, and that was
before
he was attacked for the second time that night - that time by an intruder while he searched Angelina Lasser’s home.
One way or another, apparently, that family was determined to kill him.