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Nick walks into the house, calling, "Monroe? I'm home!" as he drops his keys into the dish on the little table next to the door, then hangs up his jacket. Almost immediately his senses are overwhelmed by the scents coming from the kitchen, and he can't help but smile. He knows that Monroe's a vegan, and that he's expecting a vegan feast, but the smells are just overwhelmingly screaming, 'Thanksgiving'. "Man, that smells good," he says as he strides into the kitchen, Monroe losing focus on the meal just long enough to accept the kiss that Nick gives him.
"Well, it's Thanksgiving with all the fixings," Monroe says as he moves a pot from the stove. "Just, you know... My style."
Nick glances at all of the pots on the stove, and tries to glance into the oven when Monroe whacks him with the wooden spoon that he is using on the mashed potato and cauliflower dish. Nick grins at getting caught, and eagerly licks away at the bit of goo that flings off the spoon and onto his knuckles. "Mmmm," he declares. "Good!"
Monroe tries to shoo Nick out of the kitchen, something he's not used to. Normally Nick is allowed to help out, at least a little bit when Monroe cooks. But based on the table that is already immaculately set, it doesn't look like there is much to assist with. "What do you want me to do?" he asks as he wraps a possessive arm around Monroe's waist, reveling in the tiny bit of movement Monroe gives him as the Blutbad sinks closer into the embrace.
"Nope, nope," Monroe chides himself. "Gotta focus." He stirs another pot on the stove as he says, "Guests'll be here any minute. You," he says, pointing at Nick, "can just go sit down and watch TV. And nothing else, comprende? This meal's got to be perfect since this is our first Thanksgiving together and all...
"Oh, bossy," Nick says as he sidles up to Monroe, letting his fingers sink into the back pocket of Monroe's corduroys. "And here I was thinking I was the alpha in this relationship." He bobs his eyebrows, and with a grin crinkling the skin around his eyes, asks, "Want me to lay down and show you my belly?"
There's a flash of red in Monroe's eyes, but he quickly regains composure. Abandoning his post for just a second, he grabs a beer from the refrigerator and hands it to Nick. "You. Living room. Now."
"Yes, sir," Nick says, giving Monroe a quick whack to the backside.
Nick gets to the couch, sinking into the cushions and grabbing the remote control. As he turns the television on, he checks his phone to see if their friends had texted him as he hears Monroe mutter from the kitchen, "That Grimm is gonna be the death of me..."