I mean yeah…Monroe does yoga and pilates daily…he probably looks pretty damn good under all those layers.
I mean I think he looks good in them too and also I always imagined him having a bit of a pudge…just a little one. So snuggly.
….
Ahem. What?
Tag: keeping the hiatus grimm
And Monroe’s SCULPTED CHEST just made an appearance. I SENSE MUCH POTENTIAL IN THIS DEVELOPMENT. 😀
Bisexual Nick is my fave Nick.
They killed the wolf! All my blutbad friends said, ‘Oh yes, read Game of Thrones, lots of pro-lupine messages there’ and less than a hundred pages in, bam!, innocent wolf murder!
Oh Monroe, you sweet summer child.
Nick: You’re saying we have to do a whole other round of research, aren’t you?
Monroe: No, I’m saying that YOU have to do a whole other round of research.
Spousal abuse warning for this and the last chapter, and I guess the fic in general probably, if this turns out to be a major plot point.
“And what were you doing in Bermuda, hmm?” Nick asked teasingly, taking in Monroe’s long-sleeved shirt and sweater-vest.
“Clock-makers’ conference,” Monroe said, adding defensively, “and don’t laugh! I swear, you get a couple of mai-tais in those guys and suddenly it’s every man for himself.”
Clock-makers and Mai Tais? Monroe you wild party animal.
Yes Nick…do keep wondering what Monroe’s lips taste like.
Ah yes, the classic “Monroe is a refined wine connoisseur and Nick is a beer-guzzling philistine” trope.
But one of the first things Monroe ever did was offer Nick a beer. A snooty beer sure, but it was a beer nonetheless. Then again I guess it’s a half-shade too strange to tackle a guy through your window and then offer him wine.
“Gosh, I would have thought an old-fashioned limb-ripping would have been the perfect floor show for a blutbad,” Nick said teasingly.
“Reformed blutbad,” Monroe said with a sniff. “And as my fake boyfriend, I expect you to remember that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” Nick said, schooling his face into an expression of utter contrition. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Well,” Monroe said, leaning forward conspiratorially so his face was only a few inches from Nick’s, “you could start…by letting me have the last slice of lemon meringue.”
“You reformed blutbaden drive a hard bargain,” Nick said with an impish grin, pushing the pie tin toward Monroe, “but all right. I accept your terms.”
PLEASE STOP WRITING THESE TWO SO ADORABLY VAMPIREPAM MY LITTLE FANGIRL HEART CAN’T TAKE IT.
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