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Chapter Text

It had started with the jokes - mostly made by Hank, and then it was the casual, comforting gestures, the small touches of physical contact that she hadn't felt in years, the nightmares and fears she had shared with him, the kind of safety that she'd never truly experienced in any of her foster homes, and now suddenly they were both frozen on the staircase, heading opposite directions, and Trubel was left tumbling over herself in her mind, brain stopped with that gears-ground-to-a-halt-feeling.

It was the most natural thing, she had hardly noticed the words slipping out as she and Nick passed each other on the stairs - him going to work on an early-morning case and her just getting to bed after a late night of wesen studies - and she said "Bye, Dad," as if she did it every day.

 Trubel remained frozen, but she detected the minute sounds of Nick turning to look at the back of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, cursing internally.

 "I mean..." She twisted to face him, expecting - she wasn't sure what she expected to see on his face but it sure as hell wasn't mild amusement mixed with... affection?

A small smile spread on Nick's face, and he seemed to shake off all traces of surprise.

 "Don't worry," he said. "I've been called worse." He took the last remaining step and looked up the stairs at her. "Goodnight, Trubel." 

She watched him enter the kitchen, emerge with a protein bar, cross the room and leave, shutting the door gently behind him. She was sure he was a aware of her staring, but he never so much as glanced at her again.

Trubel grinned as she heard his car start. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stick around. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have friends- a family, for once.

Chapter Text

"You sure you want to do this?"

 Trubel stood, boots planted firmly on the sidewalk, hands buried in her pockets, staring up at the polished stone and shining glass of the storefront.

 "I'm good with the clothes I have, really. Or a thrift store. A thrift store would be fine."

When no answer came, Trubel turned to look at Juliette beside her. Juliette was already watching her.

 "When's the last time you got new clothes?" she asked. Trubel looked down at her boots - her stolen boots - and opened her mouth to answer. "That you bought."

Trubel closed her mouth.

Juliette reached out and placed a warm hand on Trubel's shoulder. Trubel tried not to jump.

 "I want to do this for you," Juliette said, her voice gentle and sincere. Trubel wasn't used to words like that. 'Warm', and 'gentle', and 'sincere'. "We want to do this for you, Nick and I. I might not be able to help you with wesen, and Grimm stuff, and... machete fighting," she gestured to where Trubel had her machete concealed beneath her clothes with a laugh, and it was all those unfamiliar words pressed into a tight ball in her chest. "But I have just a tiny bit more patience for shopping than Nick does."

 Trubel laughed. 

 "I don't know," she teased. "Nick's got some pretty sweet jackets." 

 "Keyword 'patience'," she smirked.

 Trubel smiled back, following reluctantly as Juliette entered the store.

It wasn't too different from the one she had taken her boots from. The ceilings were high and the racks were full, a myriad of way too nice clothes hanging or displayed throughout the shop. Why they couldn't have gone somewhere simple like Target was beyond her.

She walked the aisles warily, half-expecting monsters to jump out of nowhere. The store was mostly empty of customers - three women near the dressing rooms and one teenage girl two aisles down. Juliette was right in front of her.

 "What kind of clothes do you need?" she asked.

Trubel didn't hear her. She was watching the girl tapping away on her phone, oblivious to the world around her. Trubel could have been just like her. What if she had grown up with her own parents? Would they have taught her to use her Grimm abilities, or how to conceal them and live normally despite her knowledge?

She didn't think she could ever go back. She could never live an ordinary life with the things she knew.

"Trubel?" It was Juliette. Trubel's gaze snapped to her, trying to forget about the girl. "You okay?"

Trubel glanced back, watched the teenager walk out.

"Yeah."

Juliette gave her a cursory once-over.

"Okay," she said, sounding reluctant. "I was just saying, you might want some sweaters now that fall is coming up. They're on clearance now."

Trubel turned to face a row of hanging sweaters and hoodies. They were all soft and colorful.

"Juliette, can I ask you something?"

 Juliette looked surprised, but nodded assent.

 "Sure, what's up?"

 "I just wondered... I've been thinking a lot about being a Grimm, and how my life might be different, if I wasn't, and how that changed the way I see the world now, knowing the truth."

 "What do you mean?"

Trubel pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.

 "What was it like for you, finding out Nick was a Grimm?"

 Julliette froze, then looked back at the rack.

 "I didn't know at first. It was after his Aunt Marie's death, she was like a mother to him so I figured it was grief when he started acting strange. Sometimes I thought he was cheating on me." She smiled at that, clearly she had no more doubts. "It was... really messy, when I did find out. Adalind, the hexenbeist you've heard about, put a spell on me and sent me into a coma the night Nick tried to tell me. When I woke up, I had no idea who he was. It wasn't amnesia, I had my memories, just not the ones of him."

 "That sounds terrible," Trubel sympathized. 

 "It was. Eventually I remembered. It involved a lot of hallucinations and some fights with Nick, but we got through it. Then he told me, and I took it... well, I took it."

Trubel nodded. 

"That's so different from me," she said. "All my life it felt like a piece of the puzzle was missing. I was crazy, but why? What made me see things? When I met Nick, and he told me about being a Grimm, it all just kind of slid into place."

Juliette sighed.

"It's so crazy," she said. "When I was little my abuela used to tell me stories out of Spanish folklore. The chupacabra, El Coco, but nothing that fantastical was ever real to me."

 Trubel scowled at her boots.

 "It was always real to me."

 She sensed more than saw Juliette's smile softening.

 "I know," she said gently. "That must have been really hard for you. And to be alone with that..."

 Trubel shrugged, shoulders tight.

 "Yeah."

 "At least you're not alone anymore," Juliette offered. "You have us now."

 Trubel looked up.

 "Yeah, I do."

 Juliette replaced a green cotton sweater she had taken from the rack.

 "What do you say to some new shoes, and when we're done we get ice cream?"

The young Grimm grinned.

"I'm in."

Chapter Text

Trubel pushed off the wall she had been leaning on as Nick and Hank's car pulled up to the curb. It came to a stop and she leaned into the open passenger side window.

 "Nick's at home, get in," Hank said from the driver's seat of the otherwise empty car.

Trubel pulled the door open, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling as Hank pulled away from the sidewalk.

 "You dropped him off already?" 

 "Yeah," Hank confirmed with a nod, eyes on the road.

 "And you got the gear?"

 "Yes, everything is in place," he huffed. Trubel raised her hands in surrender.

 "Just checking."

 Hank glanced at her.

"And you?"

 "Pfft, of course."

 "This doesn't bother you at all?"

Trubel folded her arms.

 "I would think that breaking into a police officer's station would bother you more than me."

 Hank was silent as he turned down the street where the precinct was situated. He parked the car on the street, coming to a stop before he spoke.

 "No one will get hurt," he said.

 "He'll get over it." Trubel focused her gaze out the window, a smirk quirking her lips. "Besides," she added. "Someone needs to add some cheer to his life. And what better way to surprise him than booby trapping his desk?" 

Trubel and Hank turned to look at each other with matching grins. He pulled the key from the ignition.

 "Get the confetti."

Chapter Text

"Thanks for letting me stay the night," Trubel said between bites of spaghetti. Spaghetti was, in her opinion, the greatest food ever invented, and Monroe had perfected his vegan version of it long ago.

Rosalee set the pan aside, twirling her own fork into her pasta.

 "Of course," she said. "I wouldn't want to risk just... going back there."

 Monroe widened his eyes comically as he swallowed a bite. 

 "That's for sure. Talk about awkward."

 Trubel couldn't respond because her mouth was full of spaghetti, but she nodded in agreement.

 "But, I mean, if you think about it, they've probably... before..." Monroe trailed off at Roaslee's warning look and Trubel's expression of horror. As soon as her mouth was empty, Trubel gagged dramatically.

 "Not thinking about that."

 Monroe winced.

 "You're right. For you it's probably similar to thinking about your parents-"

 "Monroe!" Trubel and Rosalee shouted at the same time.

Monroe shut his mouth sheepishly.

 "Sorry."

Trubel thought that he probably wasn't wrong. She didn't have real parents to compare it to, but the awkwardness and overall 'eww' feeling she got from the situation seemed in line.

She cleared her plate in half the time it took the two wesen, so she scooped some more.

 "This is really good."

 Rosalee smiled.

 "We know you like spaghetti, and we thought this might be a kind of... hectic time, and you could use some favorites."

 Trubel raised a finger as she struggled to speak around her fork.

 "I love spaghetti, and thank you. You guys really didn't have to do so much for me."

 "It's our pleasure," Monroe assured her.

 The rest of dinner didn't take long. When they finished, Rosalee took Trubel to the guest room, where she had taken out some clothes for her. Trubel stared at them as she placed the garments in her hands.

 "Oh, Rosalee, my jeans are fine-"

Rosalee cut off her protests with a hard stare.

 "You cannot seriously be about to argue in favor of sleeping in your jeans."

 Trubel was at a loss.

 "I-... thanks," she settled on.

 Rosalee gave her another, almost maternal smile as she headed for the door.

 "Monroe and I will be awake a while longer, you can come down if you want, or go to sleep now," she said. "We'll just be down the hall once we turn in."

 Trubel listened to her receeding footsteps, still clutching the pajamas. When Rosalee reached the bottom of the stairs she went to the door and locked it, stripping down and stashing her weapons around the room. She pulled on the soft sweatpants and t-shirt, and then a too-big hoodie she found in the closet.

She gave the room another cursory glance before rejoining Monroe and Rosalee in the kitchen. Monroe was just pulling long-necked bottles out of the fridge as she entered.

 "I'll take one," she called, going to lean against the counter near Rosalee.

 Monroe's head reappeared from behind the refrigerator door. He handed a bottle to Rosalee and then paused mid-way to Trubel.

 "Hang on," he said, brow creased. "Can you even drink?"

 Trubel snorted.

 "I'm not that young," she said, taking the beer from his hand. "I'm twenty-one."

 Monroe nodded, returning to the fridge to grab himself a drink.

 "Thanks," she added.

 They moved to the living room, slouching/sprawling on the very soft couch. Trubel settled with a pillow on her lap and her feet pulled up.

 "I think the last time I lounged around in pajamas I was maybe... ten," Trubel mused.

 "That's terrible!" Monroe exclaimed. He was at the other end of the couch with his arm around Rosalee. "Pajamas are one of life's greatest pleasures, man."

 Trubel smiled and took a drink of her beer.

She let her gaze wander about the living room, landing on books, decorations, and many, many clocks. The room was warm and cozy, just like the couple sitting with her. It would have been the perfect childhood home.

Her eyes landed on an instrument set up against the wall in a wooden stand.

 "You play cello?" she asked.

Monroe blushed.

"Yeah, just a hobby. Did you know the cello originated in western Europe, 1550? It was originally called a bass violin, or a viola da braccio. It's creator was Andrea Amati, but the standardized design was popularized by Antonio Stradivari." Monroe gestured to his cello. "This one belonged to my great aunt Ida. She used to play it in the German forest, apparently to attract faeries."

Trubel raised an eyebrow.

"What did she do with the faeries?"

Monroe shrugged.

"They could never decide whether she planned to eat them or seduce them. I don't know if she ever caught any."

"Well," Rosalee said. "She may not have caught a faerie, but that's certainly an origin story."

Monroe grinned. "Yeah."

Trubel leaned forward.

"Can you play something?"

Monroe looked slightly surprised, but merely shrugged again.

"Sure, anything in mind?"

She shook her head.

 "I don't know music too well. Anything would be cool to hear."

 Monroe set down his drink and brought his cello to the couch, tightening his bow and plucking the strings up high on the fingerboard with his left hand.

 "Pretty in-tune," he decided. He extended and tightened the endpin, setting the tip firmly in the carpet. "How about some Chopin? Classic. I know one of his sonatas, g minor." 

Trubel nodded.

The moment he touched his bow to the string she was under the spell. The first note was deep and long, continuing that way until it danced and mingled with the higher notes, all still slow and smooth. The sound was enchanting. It was difficult to describe. it was without a doubt the best performance she had ever seen.

The song lasted several minutes, and when it was finished, Monroe was fully committed to every note.

 "That was amazing," Trubel awed. "You have to teach me how to play."

"Really?" he asked in surprise. "You'd want to learn?"

"Absolutely," she said.

Monroe smiled.

"I'm sure I could teach you something."

Trubel grinned.

"That was beautiful, Monroe," Rosalee said. Monroe turned and received a kiss.

"Thanks for playing," Trubel said, standing and stretching. "I'm gonna head to bed, long day."

"Yeah, have a good sleep," Monroe said.

"We'll see you in the morning!" Rosalee called as Trubel went for the stairs, throwing her bottle in recycling as she passed the kitchen.

"Goodnight!" she shouted down the stairs.

Once in her room, she took off the sweater and tucked herself into bed. The room was warm and quiet. Monroe's song still played gently in her mind. It was the most comfortable way she had fallen asleep in years, until recently.

As her consciousness drifted into airy dreams of music, she managed not to think of Nick or Juliette or Adalind.

Or her almost-parents having sex. Very much.

Chapter Text

Even seated at the Loft's island bar across from the hexenbiest herself, Trubel had never really understood Adalind Schade.

Ironically, they were both wearing one of Nick's tops, Adalind a button up and Trubel a green sweater (so she and Nick had some similar clothing tastes, sue her). It was a testament to how close the witch had gotten to Nick while Trubel was gone, which made her feel sort of like her family had watched her favorite movie while she was doing homework.

Adalind was a mystery. She had started off easy to read. Succesful, young, pretty lawyer, blonde hair and blue eyes, slept with her big strong French Zauberbeist boss who had formerly also slept with her mother, the usual. Now she wore knitted sweaters and her hair in a braid, looking more like a soccer mom than a sexy business-witch.

Kelly made gurgling sounds from his position in Trubel's lap, looking at his mother with happy eyes. There was that, too. Kelly felt like a little brother to Trubel, and through that whole mess of happenings, Adalind was his mom. If she had any reason to not dislike Adalind, it was Kelly. Trubel's parents were gone, and Kelly had a right to his, no matter the spotty past the rest of the family had with her.

 "He's a happy little guy," Adalind commented, sipping her coffee - something Nick had pressed into her hands along with a kiss to her cheek and a ruffle of Trubel's hair as he left on his way to work. "Diana was... well, I didn't really get to see her much as a baby, but I'm sure she was more difficult." The hexenbeist's gaze was fixed in her son, but her eyes were distant. The sharp, hidden edge in her voice rang in tune with the constant ache that Trubel carried with her everywhere.

 "He is happy," Trubel agreed. She looked down at Kelly, who was smiling brightly. "He has Nick's eyes," she commented. Dawkins nodded, still looking at Kelly. "But he has your nose."

 Adalind looked up at Trubel.

 "You think so?"

 Trubel held her gaze a second longer before turning Kelly around to face her, lifting him up under his arms to bring his rosy face in line with hers.

 "Yeah," she said. "I mean, he's half you." She grinned at Kelly and he smiled back in the silly, uncoordinated way babies do. "You're a part of this family whether you like it or not." she made gurgling noises at Kelly, who shrieked with laughter.

Adalind smiled.

 "I guess you're right."

Chapter Text

"Auntie Trubel!"

A chorus of little voices collided with her legs as the Monroe triplets gave her the biggest hugs their little bodies could manage.

 "Hi, guys!" Trubel said brightly, bending down to hug each of them individually. "How have you been?"

 "Good!" Anika shouted.

 "I've decided to call you Tante now," Felix, ever the scholar, announced. "That means auntie but in German," he added.

 "Sounds good, nipote," Trubel replied with a grin.

 Sebastian gasped. "You know German too?!"

 Trubel snorted a laugh. "No, bud, that's Italian. My family was Italian like your dad is German." She riddled his dark hair. "Well, maybe not as much, but I know some words."

 "But Auntie Trubel," Anika mused, furrowing her tiny brow and looking up with her big brown eyes.

"Tante," Felix interjected, and was ignored.

"Aren't we your family?"

 Trubel's heartbeat felt off. She blinked at the little fuchsbau-blutbad, staring up at her with bright eyes.

 "...Yeah, Ani, you are."

 "We're your bestest family," Sebastian declared.

 Trubel laughed, squatting down to her knees to be level with the triplets.

 "I don't know, Seb, Kelly might give you a run for your money," she teased.

 Sebastian was indignant.

 "He's your brother! He doesn't count!" he protested.

 "Kids!" came Monroe's voice. He was walking across the lawn of the house they had moved into when the triplets were born, on the edge of town and perfect for raising three hybrid wesen children. "You better not be harassing your Aunt Trubel over there. She's a Grimm, you know, very scary."

 Monroe made a pretend scary face as he reached the group, baring his teeth and holding up his hands like they were claws.

 "I don't understand why Grimms are supposed to be scary," Felix wondered.

 "Yeah," Anika agreed. "Nick and Trubel aren't scary at all."

 "People are silly," Sebastian added. "What if they thought I was scary?!" He bared his teeth like Monroe had done and roared as he dove at this father's legs, nearly bowling him over with the attack.

 "Woah there, buddy," Monroe said, bending down and lifting Sebastian up to his shoulders, where he continued to pretend to eat him, now gnawing on his head.

Trubel laughed and Felix shouted at his brother to spare their dad. Behind Monroe, Nick and Kelly came into view, walking around the house from the backyard. Kelly jumped up and down and began sprinting down the hill to reach Trubel and his cousins.

 "Trubel!"  Kelly all but screamed, barreling down the gentle slope that was the grass beside the driveway, smashing into her legs with more force than all three of the triplets combined.

 "Hi, bud!" Trubel grinned through nearly having the wind knocked out of her. Nick waved and approached at a much more reasonable pace. "How are you?"

 Kelly launched into a speech so fast paced that not even Trubel could follow, and Nick reached them, patting Monroe on the shoulder and ruffling Sebastian's hair.

 "Slow down, buddy," Nick said to Kelly gently. "You're gonna asphyxiate."

 Kelly frowned.

 "I don't know what that means."

 "I do!" Felix cheered. "It means suffocate."

 "Why can't people just say normal words," Sebastian complained loudly, flopping backward so far that only Monroe's hands on his ankles kept him from falling.

Felix rolled his eyes with all the exasperation a six year old could muster.

 "Where's Mom?" Anika asked Nick.

 "She's in the back with Adalind and Diana," Nick explained. "I think Diana is starting a one-man s'more production chain."

 "S'mores?!" Sebastian shrieked, immediately trying to squirm his way to the ground by bodily flinging himself from Monroe's shoulders.

 "Hold on, little man," Monroe said, setting him on the grass and holding on to his shoulders to prevent him from speeding off. "You get one s'more. One. Okay?"

Sebastian nodded solemnly, wiggling in Monroe's hold.

"Okay," Monroe confirmed, letting go of his son, who was gone in a blur. Anika, Felix, and Kelly raced after him.

 "Only one!" Monroe called. He shook his head and sighed. "Those children."

 Nick laughed, giving Trubel a hug hello.

 "How have you been?" he asked. 

Trubel smiled. "Good, all settled in the new apartment. I'll have to invite you all sometime."

 Nick nodded, then opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud shriek of "DAD SAID ONE" from the backyard.

 "Ohh, come on," Monroe groaned. Nick and Trubel grinned at each other. They all three climbed the small slope and turned the corner to the back of the house where they saw everyone else around the fire, Felix holding the entire box of graham crackers, Kelly with at least six marshmallows in his mouth and Anika shoving more in, and Sebastian holding a s'more made of a full graham cracker, four marshmallows, and a whole chocolate bar.

As Monroe ran to stop Sebastian from ingesting the Goddzilla of s'mores, Trubel realized she had been right. Sticking around wasn't so bad. And finding a family was the best thing that ever happened to her.