toxic

Written for my April Fic Challenge 2021, Prompt: Fragrance. Creature used is one mentioned in an episode but never seen. Gen or Pre-Slash. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!


Monroe is enjoying a quiet evening at home when suddenly his night is very swiftly and very efficiently ruined.

As a blutbad, his heightened senses have him perpetually processing thousands of scents – the tea steeping in the kitchen, the freshly mowed grass of his nextdoor neighbor's lawn, the orchids in bloom in the garden down the road, the dog desperately in need of a bath on the next street over – but this is something else entirely. Out of nowhere, he gets hit with this awful, toxic, overpowering smell that brings with it an overwhelming sense of dread. It makes him want to run far far far away. It's so strong that it nearly makes him woge on instinct, even from what seems like miles off.

And it just gets worse.

He can feel it closing in on him, getting closer and closer.

Before long, it's all he can do to even breathe with that powerful aroma currently filling the air. He has to plug his nose and concentrate very hard just to manage that much. He calls Nick as he flees from his house, intending on moving in the opposite direction of the smell until he can once again stand to exist.

But, when he finally gets through, Nick doesn't sound much better. "Hey," he sniffles, his voice distorted like he, too, is suffering. "I'm on my way to your place. I caught a new case and I'm, uh, pretty sure it's wesen related." There's a pause and then, "… Might also need to borrow your shower."

With dawning realization he understands why the scent keeps getting closer. "It's you!" he declares, practically snarling the words. "Don't you dare come over smelling the way you do right now, Nick. In fact, I'm going to need you to drive as far away from my house as you possibly can."

"It's not that bad!" Nick tries to argue. "I mean, it's… it's pretty bad. But-"

Monroe is having none of it, though. It is that bad. "Nope. Whatever trouble you got into this time is… pungent."

"You're telling me," Nick counters. "You're not the one covered in weird, sticky, black goop."

"You just keep your weird, sticky, black goop far away from me, please."

A resigned sigh, and he can hear as Nick signals a turn in his car. "Alright, I'm headed away from you. Can you please do me a favor and explain the weird, sticky, black goop now?"

"Tell me what happened," Monroe offers. He can certainly do that much, especially if the smell starts to retreat. "Do I want to know what happened?"

"Probably not," Nick answers. "I fell into a pit of the stuff under some rotted out floorboards in an abandoned apartment downtown. We looked, but we couldn't find the tenant anywhere. Hank did find some bones in the goop after he pulled me out, though. They looked human, but we're waiting for lab confirmation to be sure."

Oh, suddenly it makes sense. "Fétide Taillader," he announces. "They like to slash up their victims and leave them to rot before they eat them. And blutbaden are especially susceptible to the putrid smell they give off. So, that explains a lot."

"So… you can help me track it down, then?" Nick's question is hopeful, or as hopeful as anything can be when absolutely everything smells like rotting flesh.

Monroe closes his eyes and counts to ten. "Why am I friends with you?" he wonders aloud. But, then, because he is somehow, inexplicably friends with the Grimm, he relents. "The only thing I can track right now is your blissful progress away from me. Go take like at least a dozen showers with very, very, very strong soap. If I can stand to be within ten feet of you after that, I will help you find the thing."

Nick seems relieved by his agreement, tenuous as it is. "Okay," he says, "Okay. I'll call you when I can stand to be in the same room as me. And Monroe? Thanks – I owe you one."

"You owe me like fifty seven at this point, but I'll settle for dinner once this is over and done."

That gets a laugh out of Nick, at least, "You've got a deal."