AN: This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so if you want to you can let me know what you think about it.

There was a car idling on the corner of the street. It was a small, yellow car and although he couldn't quite make it out, he was sure the emblem was that of a Volkswagen. It had been there when he arrived at his condo three hours earlier, and it was still there now, waiting.

Sean Renard peeked out of his curtains again and winced. He knew he was supposed to get the impression that this was just another empty car parked by the curb for the night; perhaps its owner had popped in to visit someone in one of the neighbouring houses; perhaps it had gotten a flat tire or an engine failure and the owner had to abandon it there while he or she went to look for help. But it had been hours and something didn't feel right. When he had passed by the car earlier in his mad rush to get home-to be somewhere safe-he had felt a presence. Someone or something was inside that car and it was watching him. Perhaps the most unsettling part of the whole situation was that Sean was certain he had been in contact with the person-the thing-before. So who could it be? Did his family send someone to check on him? But why, what could he possibly have that they couldn't just ask-
Oh merde, the coins!
He knew it: there was something in that car and it wanted the coins. He didn't know how his family could have out about them so quickly, but he would be damned to the furthest reaches of hell and back if he gave them up without a fight.

He took out his gun from the holster he had taken to wearing recently and he gave the coins in his pocket a quick rub for good luck.
As quietly as he could, he snuck out of his condo and into the street, keeping to the shadows, treading softly.
At this moment, he was grateful for the many unnecessary years he had spent training to be a detective. It had taught him patience. The Royal Families knew a thing or two about ambushes and battle strategies but they were notorious for having little patience.
He snuck up behind the car and, barely stopping to take a breath, fired off a round into the air.
Then he waited.
There were no scrambling noises.
No startled cries.
No pleas for mercy.
Nothing.
He waited a second longer just in case but there was nothing more to do here. Upon investigation, the car was empty.
He was being paranoid and he knew it.
Grasping the coins in his hands, he reholstered his gun and slunk away back towards his house.

If there was one thing to be said for his neighbours, living next to a police captain had deadened their curiosity. He only saw a single curtain flicker as he walked back home. The rest remained stationary; they were all too used to the sounds of gunfire around these parts.

As Nick Burkhardt watched his captain stride back towards his house on those amazingly long legs of his, he breathed a sigh of relief and let the curtain fall back into position. He turned to the old woman and thanked her for letting him hide inside her house. She could only nod back in the same stunned silence that had fallen over her since the dark haired cop with intense eyes had flashed his badge and demanded she let him in "in aid of a police investigation of one of [her] neighbours". She was not entirely sure it was legal for him to demand to be let in, but there was something about the way his eyes were boring into her that assured her that he would find his way into her home whether or not she opened the door herself.

He looked like he was being chased by someone which must have been true because only a couple of seconds after he ran into her living room, several gunshots rang out from the street. She was glad he was leaving now because maybe the madness would stop and she could go untie her husband from their harness in the basement. His mouth was probably even aching from the gag by now.
The intense-eyed cop nodded at her and flashed a dazzling smile before making a hasty exit.
There was something off about his smile and she hoped that this was the last she would ever see of him.

Nick snuck out of the house and back towards the car. He inspected it for damages, hoping that there wouldn't be any irreparable damage done; the last thing he needed was Monroe getting mad at him for "commandeering" his car and then filling it with bullet holes. He knew using Monroe's car was a good idea. If the captain had pulled his gun because of a car he didn't even recognize, Nick could only imagine how crazy the captain would have gotten if he had recognized the vehicle and had thought someone he knew was following him.
Those coins needed to be stopped.

Nick had been hiding in the backseat of Monroe's car for hours, watching the captain toying with those accursed coins.
He was fondling them in an almost seductive manner, the way one might play with the hair of a lover as his lips trail kisses along his long-
Nick stopped himself quickly as he tried to divert this dangerous train of thought.
No time for that now.
But the coins must have had a stronger effect on him than he suspected because he leaned against the car-right there on the side of the street, in plain view of whomever should choose to look out at the right moment-and felt his hand, as if on its own accord, snake down his pants. Before he had time to react to this, he was holding his rapidly stiffening member in his hand, watching his captain stride about his bedroom.
His head began to fill up with a sensation of lightness and his eyes began to roll skyward.
No! Stop it, this is madness; you have a job to do.
The feeling of euphoria fled from his head and he pulled his hand out of his pants.

He wondered if his excitement had had something to do with the adrenaline of running down the street, chased by a detective with a rather large gun, goddammit! Was it possible that it had something to do with the coins? He had only been in contact with them for a few minutes but maybe that was enough. Just look what happened to poor Hank and even the Schakale; those coins were dangerous. Maybe he, as a Grimm, didn't have as much a lesser reaction to them as a delayed one. He wondered just what he had gotten himself into these past few months. Or maybe, he was reluctant to even think about, his arousal had more to do with seeing Sean Renard at his most intimate and less with the coins. Or maybe the coins intensified the effect.
He shuddered to think of what else those coins were capable of intensifying.
He watched as the captain got ready for bed, laying the coins gently near his head, and felt more than a slight twinge of disappointment when Sean closed his heavy curtains and turned off his lights.

Nick spent another hour debating whether or not it would be worth it to sneak into Sean's house while he was asleep and removing those damn coins before they did any more harm. On the other hand, the captain had a gun and was obviously not afraid to use it. On yet a third hand, he wasn't sure he trusted himself to be in such a close vicinity to the captain and those coins. Things could happen. Things they would both regret.
He wondered what the captain was dreaming of.

As if in answer to that, the curtains blocking his view of Sean Renard's sleeping form were suddenly flung open.
Nick quickly turned off the lights inside the car and hid out of sight, with only his forehead and eyes peeking out over the door.
This was a very curious development.
He watched as the captain scanned the street slowly, but the weird part was that although he was staring intently, he didn't seem to be looking atthe street.