Hazards of Being Unofficially Adopted
Dec. 29th, 2011 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fakeasain56This is a cleaned up, altogether version of a fill I did for the Grimm-kink meme back when it was on LJ. I decided to clean it up, and repost. So here it is. :D I hope that people still like it.
Roddy was seriously considering praying to whatever watched over little Reinegen to help him out here; he hadn’t done anything wrong. Yeah, sure, he wasn’t human, but since when was that a real problem?
Since now of course.
A Grimm.
There was a Grimm standing in his living room. Staring around at the mess he had made. Shaking his head.
“You have gotta be kidding me kid.”
Roddy wasn’t certain if he was allowed to glare at a Grimm. If the tales were right, then he would be able to tell in a heartbeat; this Grimm however…
Still, tales at the very least had a kernel of truth. He’d rather not piss off the man who could stake him in a second either.
“Do you have anyone who can take care of you while you’re dad’s in the hospital?” Nick’s voice broke his terrified reasoning, and he did not jump.
“No. Obviously. No one even comes near this place.” He eyed the police officer for a moment; he was wearing plain clothing, but Nick could see underneath the leather jacket the shape of the gun holster. It wasn't just ancient weapons that could kill creatures. He gulped, turning away. “Anyways, I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, of course you can, because that went over so well last time.” Nick’s voice was so dry, that Roddy took an automatic step closer to the door, despite the fact that the Grimm seemed harmless- he was on the bottom of the food chain here, and not really all the willing to find himself off that chain.
“Anyways, first things first. Cleaning.”
Roddy would’ve laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the entire situation if he weren’t busy being retroactively terrified. In prison, he was too high on adrenaline, and after sic’ing the rats on the other students, he had been too emotionally exhausted to feel much. But fear was returning with a vengeance. His very blood was beating out that the man in his living room, searching for a broom, was dangerous.
At the very least the Blutbad wasn’t here. He didn’t think he could handle both of them at once. “By the way, Monroe said he was impressed with your violin playing. I only heard a tiny bit down at that warehouse, but it sounded pretty good.”
Roddy simply nodded, kept his mouth shut, and prayed once again to whatever could possibly be watching over rats to have mercy on him.
“I can’t leave you here, not if you don’t have someone watching you.” Nick announced.
Roddy waved his mental middle finger at whatever deities may exist.
“I-I guess I got someone I could call.” Because even a Blutbad was better then a Grimm. Besides, he would probably just say no, and the detective had never specified the man had to say Yes.
He quickly dug out the Blutbad’s number from among the trashed belongings, before moving towards the phone. It was cracked slightly, but still in working order once he had plugged it in. “Nick I swear if you ask me to go sniffing around for another creature one more time this late at night-“
“It’s me.” Roddy interrupted, “Roddy. Remember?”
“Oh yeah!” The Blutbad actually sounded pleased to hear him. “What can I do for you?”
“I-uh- need a place to stay. Would you be willing to take me in for a night?”
Please say no, please say no, please say no-
“Sure.” Aww, fu- “I’m going to guess Nick did something and ended up destroying your house or something?”
“No. I’ll explain when I get there.” And crawl right out the window. Not staying overnight in a Blutbad’s home. “Anyways, I gotta go-“
“Wait, transfer me over to Nick for a sec would you? I can hear him humming in the background.”
Nick was humming in the background, softly. Only the Blutbad’s super-hearing could possibly hear it, even across the phone. Roddy dropped the phone into Nick’s hand, wondering if it was too late to go mooching off of his friends. “Hello- oh, Monroe!” Nick’s smile grew innocently pretty as he leaned one hip against the nearby table.
Roddy watched in sick fascination as Nick took on a posture that could only be considered as a Come and Get Me. A…Blutbad and Grimm? That would explain why the Grimm hadn’t killed the Blutbad yet.
“No, the house is just fine…No, he isn’t hurt. I’m not going to-…Yeah?....Sure thing Monroe. You gonna cook me dinner?....Yes, I know you’re a vegetarian- hey! I can handle new foods just fine!...You called me a philistine again, didn’t you? I swear I will kick your-…Fine!”
Nick hung up, shaking his head. “Go pack an overnight bag Roddy; I’ll drop you off at Monroe’s place.”
“You know where he lives?” He really needed to rethink this whole, Blutbad is better then the Grimm business.
“Yeah, I visit him all the time.” Nick pointed in the direction of the bedroom. “Now go get ready; Monroe will kill me if I attempt to keep you out too late.”
Right. Because a Blutbad cared about something that didn’t even begin to pop up as prey even. If Roddy could, he would be laughing in Nick’s face. Nobody cared about him; not his classmates, not his girlfriend- only his dad did, and if you really wanted to nitpick then his fans at his raves.
Either way, he was not going to be a happy rat.
----------
Roddy curled up on the couch, doing his best to ignore the two predators currently doing dishes in the kitchen. Both were talking in low, quiet murmurs, making it impossible to pick out individual words. But the tone was clear enough; Monroe’s was a low, rumbling exasperated tone, with the faint under pickings of fondness. Nick was a light, lilting, teasing tone.
Why weren’t they married yet? Because seriously, all those looks was what made him sick, rather then the tiredness he had begged off on. At least they were trying to keep it quiet.
The shuffle of feet towards the door made his heart rise in hope; were they finally leaving? No, they had stopped at the front.
Roddy peeked over the top of the couch in time to see Nick’s teeth flashing in one of those bright smiles he liked to do, shaking his head in response to some question. Monroe frowned slightly, jealousy sparking in his eyes; which of course went right over the Grimm’s head.
Suddenly, Roddy understood just why the two hadn’t killed each other yet- they were both so painfully oblivious to the sexual tension between the two of them, they probably mistook each other for friends.
So where exactly do I fall into place among this?
He didn’t really think he wanted to know the answer to that.
Nick left, and Monroe trudged back to where the exhausted teen lay on his couch. “I converted the spare bedroom into a workshop, but I’ll clear the floor and pull out a futon for you. Tell me before you go out at night would you? Otherwise I might think you’re an intruder.”
Right. Thoughts of sneaking out were hastily discarded. “Also, just for your information, I do Cello practice at six in the morning. You’re welcome to join me.”
Six? Freaking six? No, he was going to be asleep!
Of course, if the Blutbad insisted, he’d much rather loose a few hours of sleep then have his bowels on the floor. He settled for an indistinct response, eyes warily watching the blutbad.
Monroe sighed, awkwardly scratching the side of his head. “I’m not used to guests just as a warning. So if you see anything odd, just ignore it.”
“Okay…” Roddy thought of the rats, how they would listen to his performance without a second word, and thought of the praise Monroe had for his violin performance.
He could get through this. It was just one night and then he was gone.
----------
It was several levels of somewhere he was certain he was in, attempting to settle into Monroe’s lifestyle. He wasn’t allowed to eat whatever looked edible. He had to clean up after himself.
Illegal raves were quite clearly out of the picture. Nick was not only a Grimm, but a cop, and raves… weren’t the best idea.
At the very least neither of the two insisted he had to go back to school on that first day; instead he went to visit his dad to learn how long he’d be in there. One week if he let himself rest. Longer if he pushed himself.
Roddy began making motions to get himself somewhere different. He’d attempted going back home, but Nick had tracked him down and made him go back to Monroe, citing that he shouldn’t be alone during this time. Roddy kept his head down and mouth shut, praying that the Grimm wouldn’t kill him.
Second night he attempted to stay over at a friend’s house- the sniff of a blutbad sought him out, and Roddy kind of gave up after that, mournfully bidding goodbye to all his sweets.
It had… it’s good points however, when Roddy was willing to admit it.
It was nice, not having to worry about anything. Dad was always out, and schoolmates always looked down on him. Before he had his music class, but even there they hated him.
Monroe was different. Monroe was always willing to listen to his violin concerts- and the fact that it wasn’t someone he really had to please allowed him to experiment, and the blutbad’s sharp ears caught the sour notes as they were played, ready to point them out. Ready to help him grow where experience overtook talent.
Monroe was also a man of predictable routine; he would work on the clocks at a certain time, did his palates, cooked his food; everything was kept to a strict routine which Roddy awkwardly eased himself into.
It was a good four days into this odd arrangement, when Nick burst into the scene again, scowling fiercely, and aiming straight for Monroe. “Monroe- there’s-“
“Don’t want to hear it. I have a routine you know. I am reformed you know.” Monroe glowered at Nick, just daring the man to say something.
Nick of course took that dare. “You know you like it. Besides-“
Roddy dove for his backpack, and headed for the door. He didn’t want to hear a Grimm and a Blutbad conspiring on how to kill someone. “I gotta get to class. Also, Monroe, I’m going to be late tonight.”
“Yeah, sure kid, knock yourself out.” Monroe waved an airy hand of unconcern, all attention focused on Nick. “You on the other hand, should get out. Because it isn’t happening.”
“Come on Monroe, I just need some info-“
The door swung shut on the two, as Roddy grinned. It had been awhile since he had last put on a rave, and it would be his first one in awhile; it promised to be interesting tonight.
-----
Interesting lately seemed to be taking on a rather death defying, life-threatening connotation.
Roddy cowered in his small corner, attempting to breath silently, as his eyes remained on the sky. A cat had attended tonight’s rave- he had went scurrying for cover as soon as he realized, but it was quite probably already too late.
Cat’s liked to play with their food, and the dark, winding alleyways that he knew so well were being twisted against him. Quietly he pressed up against the corner, debating whether or not he wanted to completely change- what he should’ve done was headed for the river.
He could swim, and cat’s didn’t. Slowly he eased out of the alleyway, moving for the river.
The river was safe, if he could just get there, then he could go completely rat and swim for safety. Spend a day hiding out among the other rats, before creeping back to dad.
The river was just a few feet away, and Roddy moved quickly, scuttling straight for it. Somehow, he got the feeling he was forgetting someone- “RODDY LOOK OUT!”
The Grimm’s yell from right behind him accompanied by a hard hand between his shoulders sent his sprawling to the ground, blinking back stars as the Katze’s disappointed yowl rose into the air.
Nick groaned, and Roddy’s sensitive nose twitched to smell blood in the air. He didn’t feel hurt so that could only mean-
“Nick?” He wasn’t certain what he was more terrified of- the Grimm that just got hurt for him, or the cat-creature snarling and bristling as it found its prey cruelly snatched out from its claws.
A long howl echoed in the night, as Roddy’s hands reached for the blood, wondering if the tales of Grimm blood killing creatures was true. Crap, crap, crap, and double crap. What do I do-
The cat was coming closer. The Grimm could take care of himself right? But the long scratches down the back were bleeding fiercely, and Nick’s gun was wavering. Roddy swore at the sky, ignoring Nick’s surprised look, and pressed hands against the bleeding wound, keeping an eye on the cat creature.
It hissed, long claws flashing in the dim light. Roddy flinched forwards, tensing and waiting for the pain.
An angry growl that was distinctly not cat but wolf echoed in the night, as a large furred form leapt over their heads, tackling the cat creature to the ground. In that single moment, Nick surged to his feet, shaking off Roddy’s hand, taking aim and firing- it hit the cat, not the wolf, that danced out of the way, all deadly lines and blood bath.
Roddy glanced back longingly at the river. He could slip in, swim away, hide out among rats for the rest of the week, and then pick up his dad and convince him to move far, far away from the Grimm. He’d never have to fear being staked again, never get his violin playing complemented, go to sleep knowing nothing would close, feeling locked up inside because they were too muffling and-
“Roddy, are you okay?” The Grimm’s hand was coming at his face, and reflexively he flinched backwards from it.
The hand froze, and Roddy’s eyes slowly traveled from hand to face.
Nick looked hurt.
Why?
I’m just a Reingen. Why haven’t you killed me yet? You’re a Grimm- isn’t that your bloodline-
“Hey, cub, you alright?” Monroe’s hand heavily descended on his head, making it dip forward, cutting off Nick’s expression. “Whoa, Nick, you alright?”
“Just a few scratches.” Nick airly brushed off his wound to look at Roddy. “We should get Roddy somewhere safe first though, I think there might be more.”
Roddy miserably wondered if perhaps he had been injured. Why else would his stomach ache the same way it had when he thought his girlfriend had set him up?
--------
Roddy went straight for his stuff the second they entered Monroe’s place, running fingers across the solid wood of the violin.
It wasn’t the world’s greatest; but it was the best his dad could afford. Years of love were poured into this instrument; he had always turned to it in times of need.
Nick had mentioned that the music he had heard was really good; Roddy was going to prove it to him.
He carried out the violin to the living room, Nick face first in a pile of couch cushions as Monroe wound the bandages across Nick’s back, ignoring the little hisses of pain. At least, Roddy was calling them hisses, because whimpers were exactly all that cool.
He took a deep breath, and raised his bow, feeling more nervous then he ever had in front of a large audience.
The first note that drifted out into the open was low and sweet, calming. It’s what he would play for the rats when they were hurt and in pain. Every chord was soft and hummed sweetly in the air, telling those listening that it was safe, that they could rest, it was fine.
Eyes closed as he concentrated on the music, drawing out every possible note as purely as possible. His fingers, calloused as they were from the strings, twinged in pain, as he felt strings groan in protest.
If the instrument was better, he could do better. He had once heard the hum of an old violin, it's wood aged, music resonating perfectly as he touched the bow to the strings. He shook off the memories, returning to the music at hand. As it was, this instrument wasn’t able to handle what he wanted.
Roddy ignored that, pushing on, attempting to pour out his thanks in musical form. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for feeding me and taking care of me. Thank you.
The last note faded softly on the air, as Roddy’s eyes opened to find Monroe grinning sleepily but proudly, Nick dead asleep with his hand nudging Monroe’s.
He grinned shakily, and turned to go. Monroe caught his hand in that second, and pulled him in the direction of the couch instead. “Come here, let me see if you’re hurt anywhere.”
“I’m not. I just want to-“
“Relax, I’ll take care of your violin. Stay right there and don’t move.” The violin was plucked from his hands, carefully. Roddy watched Monroe disappear, before settling into the couch slowly, hand nudging against Nick’s hand.
Nick struck fast, even when asleep. In a second he’d curled around Roddy’s hand like an eel, snuggling into the contact like a puppy, and purring like a cat.
Roddy nearly yanked back in surprise before stopping; the Grimm was asleep. He could…enjoy this right? Enjoy being close to another person other then his dad, who wasn’t much for physical contact anyways.
He closed his eyes, and pretended it was his mom, wrapped around his hand, smiling the sweet smile she used to have; and that was dad settling in at his shoulder, pulling him in so that way he could lean against him, and be comfortable.
He slipped into sleep like that, smiling contentedly.
Life was going to be okay.
~Fini~
Roddy was seriously considering praying to whatever watched over little Reinegen to help him out here; he hadn’t done anything wrong. Yeah, sure, he wasn’t human, but since when was that a real problem?
Since now of course.
A Grimm.
There was a Grimm standing in his living room. Staring around at the mess he had made. Shaking his head.
“You have gotta be kidding me kid.”
Roddy wasn’t certain if he was allowed to glare at a Grimm. If the tales were right, then he would be able to tell in a heartbeat; this Grimm however…
Still, tales at the very least had a kernel of truth. He’d rather not piss off the man who could stake him in a second either.
“Do you have anyone who can take care of you while you’re dad’s in the hospital?” Nick’s voice broke his terrified reasoning, and he did not jump.
“No. Obviously. No one even comes near this place.” He eyed the police officer for a moment; he was wearing plain clothing, but Nick could see underneath the leather jacket the shape of the gun holster. It wasn't just ancient weapons that could kill creatures. He gulped, turning away. “Anyways, I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, of course you can, because that went over so well last time.” Nick’s voice was so dry, that Roddy took an automatic step closer to the door, despite the fact that the Grimm seemed harmless- he was on the bottom of the food chain here, and not really all the willing to find himself off that chain.
“Anyways, first things first. Cleaning.”
Roddy would’ve laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the entire situation if he weren’t busy being retroactively terrified. In prison, he was too high on adrenaline, and after sic’ing the rats on the other students, he had been too emotionally exhausted to feel much. But fear was returning with a vengeance. His very blood was beating out that the man in his living room, searching for a broom, was dangerous.
At the very least the Blutbad wasn’t here. He didn’t think he could handle both of them at once. “By the way, Monroe said he was impressed with your violin playing. I only heard a tiny bit down at that warehouse, but it sounded pretty good.”
Roddy simply nodded, kept his mouth shut, and prayed once again to whatever could possibly be watching over rats to have mercy on him.
“I can’t leave you here, not if you don’t have someone watching you.” Nick announced.
Roddy waved his mental middle finger at whatever deities may exist.
“I-I guess I got someone I could call.” Because even a Blutbad was better then a Grimm. Besides, he would probably just say no, and the detective had never specified the man had to say Yes.
He quickly dug out the Blutbad’s number from among the trashed belongings, before moving towards the phone. It was cracked slightly, but still in working order once he had plugged it in. “Nick I swear if you ask me to go sniffing around for another creature one more time this late at night-“
“It’s me.” Roddy interrupted, “Roddy. Remember?”
“Oh yeah!” The Blutbad actually sounded pleased to hear him. “What can I do for you?”
“I-uh- need a place to stay. Would you be willing to take me in for a night?”
Please say no, please say no, please say no-
“Sure.” Aww, fu- “I’m going to guess Nick did something and ended up destroying your house or something?”
“No. I’ll explain when I get there.” And crawl right out the window. Not staying overnight in a Blutbad’s home. “Anyways, I gotta go-“
“Wait, transfer me over to Nick for a sec would you? I can hear him humming in the background.”
Nick was humming in the background, softly. Only the Blutbad’s super-hearing could possibly hear it, even across the phone. Roddy dropped the phone into Nick’s hand, wondering if it was too late to go mooching off of his friends. “Hello- oh, Monroe!” Nick’s smile grew innocently pretty as he leaned one hip against the nearby table.
Roddy watched in sick fascination as Nick took on a posture that could only be considered as a Come and Get Me. A…Blutbad and Grimm? That would explain why the Grimm hadn’t killed the Blutbad yet.
“No, the house is just fine…No, he isn’t hurt. I’m not going to-…Yeah?....Sure thing Monroe. You gonna cook me dinner?....Yes, I know you’re a vegetarian- hey! I can handle new foods just fine!...You called me a philistine again, didn’t you? I swear I will kick your-…Fine!”
Nick hung up, shaking his head. “Go pack an overnight bag Roddy; I’ll drop you off at Monroe’s place.”
“You know where he lives?” He really needed to rethink this whole, Blutbad is better then the Grimm business.
“Yeah, I visit him all the time.” Nick pointed in the direction of the bedroom. “Now go get ready; Monroe will kill me if I attempt to keep you out too late.”
Right. Because a Blutbad cared about something that didn’t even begin to pop up as prey even. If Roddy could, he would be laughing in Nick’s face. Nobody cared about him; not his classmates, not his girlfriend- only his dad did, and if you really wanted to nitpick then his fans at his raves.
Either way, he was not going to be a happy rat.
----------
Roddy curled up on the couch, doing his best to ignore the two predators currently doing dishes in the kitchen. Both were talking in low, quiet murmurs, making it impossible to pick out individual words. But the tone was clear enough; Monroe’s was a low, rumbling exasperated tone, with the faint under pickings of fondness. Nick was a light, lilting, teasing tone.
Why weren’t they married yet? Because seriously, all those looks was what made him sick, rather then the tiredness he had begged off on. At least they were trying to keep it quiet.
The shuffle of feet towards the door made his heart rise in hope; were they finally leaving? No, they had stopped at the front.
Roddy peeked over the top of the couch in time to see Nick’s teeth flashing in one of those bright smiles he liked to do, shaking his head in response to some question. Monroe frowned slightly, jealousy sparking in his eyes; which of course went right over the Grimm’s head.
Suddenly, Roddy understood just why the two hadn’t killed each other yet- they were both so painfully oblivious to the sexual tension between the two of them, they probably mistook each other for friends.
So where exactly do I fall into place among this?
He didn’t really think he wanted to know the answer to that.
Nick left, and Monroe trudged back to where the exhausted teen lay on his couch. “I converted the spare bedroom into a workshop, but I’ll clear the floor and pull out a futon for you. Tell me before you go out at night would you? Otherwise I might think you’re an intruder.”
Right. Thoughts of sneaking out were hastily discarded. “Also, just for your information, I do Cello practice at six in the morning. You’re welcome to join me.”
Six? Freaking six? No, he was going to be asleep!
Of course, if the Blutbad insisted, he’d much rather loose a few hours of sleep then have his bowels on the floor. He settled for an indistinct response, eyes warily watching the blutbad.
Monroe sighed, awkwardly scratching the side of his head. “I’m not used to guests just as a warning. So if you see anything odd, just ignore it.”
“Okay…” Roddy thought of the rats, how they would listen to his performance without a second word, and thought of the praise Monroe had for his violin performance.
He could get through this. It was just one night and then he was gone.
----------
It was several levels of somewhere he was certain he was in, attempting to settle into Monroe’s lifestyle. He wasn’t allowed to eat whatever looked edible. He had to clean up after himself.
Illegal raves were quite clearly out of the picture. Nick was not only a Grimm, but a cop, and raves… weren’t the best idea.
At the very least neither of the two insisted he had to go back to school on that first day; instead he went to visit his dad to learn how long he’d be in there. One week if he let himself rest. Longer if he pushed himself.
Roddy began making motions to get himself somewhere different. He’d attempted going back home, but Nick had tracked him down and made him go back to Monroe, citing that he shouldn’t be alone during this time. Roddy kept his head down and mouth shut, praying that the Grimm wouldn’t kill him.
Second night he attempted to stay over at a friend’s house- the sniff of a blutbad sought him out, and Roddy kind of gave up after that, mournfully bidding goodbye to all his sweets.
It had… it’s good points however, when Roddy was willing to admit it.
It was nice, not having to worry about anything. Dad was always out, and schoolmates always looked down on him. Before he had his music class, but even there they hated him.
Monroe was different. Monroe was always willing to listen to his violin concerts- and the fact that it wasn’t someone he really had to please allowed him to experiment, and the blutbad’s sharp ears caught the sour notes as they were played, ready to point them out. Ready to help him grow where experience overtook talent.
Monroe was also a man of predictable routine; he would work on the clocks at a certain time, did his palates, cooked his food; everything was kept to a strict routine which Roddy awkwardly eased himself into.
It was a good four days into this odd arrangement, when Nick burst into the scene again, scowling fiercely, and aiming straight for Monroe. “Monroe- there’s-“
“Don’t want to hear it. I have a routine you know. I am reformed you know.” Monroe glowered at Nick, just daring the man to say something.
Nick of course took that dare. “You know you like it. Besides-“
Roddy dove for his backpack, and headed for the door. He didn’t want to hear a Grimm and a Blutbad conspiring on how to kill someone. “I gotta get to class. Also, Monroe, I’m going to be late tonight.”
“Yeah, sure kid, knock yourself out.” Monroe waved an airy hand of unconcern, all attention focused on Nick. “You on the other hand, should get out. Because it isn’t happening.”
“Come on Monroe, I just need some info-“
The door swung shut on the two, as Roddy grinned. It had been awhile since he had last put on a rave, and it would be his first one in awhile; it promised to be interesting tonight.
-----
Interesting lately seemed to be taking on a rather death defying, life-threatening connotation.
Roddy cowered in his small corner, attempting to breath silently, as his eyes remained on the sky. A cat had attended tonight’s rave- he had went scurrying for cover as soon as he realized, but it was quite probably already too late.
Cat’s liked to play with their food, and the dark, winding alleyways that he knew so well were being twisted against him. Quietly he pressed up against the corner, debating whether or not he wanted to completely change- what he should’ve done was headed for the river.
He could swim, and cat’s didn’t. Slowly he eased out of the alleyway, moving for the river.
The river was safe, if he could just get there, then he could go completely rat and swim for safety. Spend a day hiding out among the other rats, before creeping back to dad.
The river was just a few feet away, and Roddy moved quickly, scuttling straight for it. Somehow, he got the feeling he was forgetting someone- “RODDY LOOK OUT!”
The Grimm’s yell from right behind him accompanied by a hard hand between his shoulders sent his sprawling to the ground, blinking back stars as the Katze’s disappointed yowl rose into the air.
Nick groaned, and Roddy’s sensitive nose twitched to smell blood in the air. He didn’t feel hurt so that could only mean-
“Nick?” He wasn’t certain what he was more terrified of- the Grimm that just got hurt for him, or the cat-creature snarling and bristling as it found its prey cruelly snatched out from its claws.
A long howl echoed in the night, as Roddy’s hands reached for the blood, wondering if the tales of Grimm blood killing creatures was true. Crap, crap, crap, and double crap. What do I do-
The cat was coming closer. The Grimm could take care of himself right? But the long scratches down the back were bleeding fiercely, and Nick’s gun was wavering. Roddy swore at the sky, ignoring Nick’s surprised look, and pressed hands against the bleeding wound, keeping an eye on the cat creature.
It hissed, long claws flashing in the dim light. Roddy flinched forwards, tensing and waiting for the pain.
An angry growl that was distinctly not cat but wolf echoed in the night, as a large furred form leapt over their heads, tackling the cat creature to the ground. In that single moment, Nick surged to his feet, shaking off Roddy’s hand, taking aim and firing- it hit the cat, not the wolf, that danced out of the way, all deadly lines and blood bath.
Roddy glanced back longingly at the river. He could slip in, swim away, hide out among rats for the rest of the week, and then pick up his dad and convince him to move far, far away from the Grimm. He’d never have to fear being staked again, never get his violin playing complemented, go to sleep knowing nothing would close, feeling locked up inside because they were too muffling and-
“Roddy, are you okay?” The Grimm’s hand was coming at his face, and reflexively he flinched backwards from it.
The hand froze, and Roddy’s eyes slowly traveled from hand to face.
Nick looked hurt.
Why?
I’m just a Reingen. Why haven’t you killed me yet? You’re a Grimm- isn’t that your bloodline-
“Hey, cub, you alright?” Monroe’s hand heavily descended on his head, making it dip forward, cutting off Nick’s expression. “Whoa, Nick, you alright?”
“Just a few scratches.” Nick airly brushed off his wound to look at Roddy. “We should get Roddy somewhere safe first though, I think there might be more.”
Roddy miserably wondered if perhaps he had been injured. Why else would his stomach ache the same way it had when he thought his girlfriend had set him up?
--------
Roddy went straight for his stuff the second they entered Monroe’s place, running fingers across the solid wood of the violin.
It wasn’t the world’s greatest; but it was the best his dad could afford. Years of love were poured into this instrument; he had always turned to it in times of need.
Nick had mentioned that the music he had heard was really good; Roddy was going to prove it to him.
He carried out the violin to the living room, Nick face first in a pile of couch cushions as Monroe wound the bandages across Nick’s back, ignoring the little hisses of pain. At least, Roddy was calling them hisses, because whimpers were exactly all that cool.
He took a deep breath, and raised his bow, feeling more nervous then he ever had in front of a large audience.
The first note that drifted out into the open was low and sweet, calming. It’s what he would play for the rats when they were hurt and in pain. Every chord was soft and hummed sweetly in the air, telling those listening that it was safe, that they could rest, it was fine.
Eyes closed as he concentrated on the music, drawing out every possible note as purely as possible. His fingers, calloused as they were from the strings, twinged in pain, as he felt strings groan in protest.
If the instrument was better, he could do better. He had once heard the hum of an old violin, it's wood aged, music resonating perfectly as he touched the bow to the strings. He shook off the memories, returning to the music at hand. As it was, this instrument wasn’t able to handle what he wanted.
Roddy ignored that, pushing on, attempting to pour out his thanks in musical form. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for feeding me and taking care of me. Thank you.
The last note faded softly on the air, as Roddy’s eyes opened to find Monroe grinning sleepily but proudly, Nick dead asleep with his hand nudging Monroe’s.
He grinned shakily, and turned to go. Monroe caught his hand in that second, and pulled him in the direction of the couch instead. “Come here, let me see if you’re hurt anywhere.”
“I’m not. I just want to-“
“Relax, I’ll take care of your violin. Stay right there and don’t move.” The violin was plucked from his hands, carefully. Roddy watched Monroe disappear, before settling into the couch slowly, hand nudging against Nick’s hand.
Nick struck fast, even when asleep. In a second he’d curled around Roddy’s hand like an eel, snuggling into the contact like a puppy, and purring like a cat.
Roddy nearly yanked back in surprise before stopping; the Grimm was asleep. He could…enjoy this right? Enjoy being close to another person other then his dad, who wasn’t much for physical contact anyways.
He closed his eyes, and pretended it was his mom, wrapped around his hand, smiling the sweet smile she used to have; and that was dad settling in at his shoulder, pulling him in so that way he could lean against him, and be comfortable.
He slipped into sleep like that, smiling contentedly.
Life was going to be okay.
~Fini~
(Don't have a DW account -- sorry!)
Date: 2012-01-15 04:51 am (UTC)The end was just beautiful -- Roddy playing violin to say thanks... Man, I really liked it. This would make a great series -- snapshots in the life and whatnot -- but it also works fabulously on its own. Good job!
no subject
Date: 2012-04-08 01:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-29 09:56 pm (UTC)