The First Thing

Category: Angst/Hurt Comfort

Pairing: Datch, Dutch/D'avin

Summary: Missing end scene from S1E06 "One Blood."

Warnings: Contains spoilers, strong language and sexual references.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but if I had all the money I would buy Killjoys :P

Authors Notes: I received some lovely feedback for my last story, so it inspired to write another! It's so good to see people jumping on this fandom, I think it's an awesome show :)

D'avin stays hovering by Dutch, his eyes burning with questions as he glances up. He knows Johnny can't answer them but no matter how much information is missing they share a united front, they'll both do whatever it takes to help. He hasn't known her that long but he's seen her strength, watched her risk her life for the team and he doesn't need to know anything else. They're in this together as a family.

A silent understanding passes between them and Johnny gives a subtle nod of permission which D'avin's grateful for. Someone needs to be with Dutch and he's not skilled enough to take Lucy off the map meaning he's happy to accept the job.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He brushes her shoulder, pursing his lips at her silent response. It's probably shock and he squeezes gently, ignoring the warning look from his brother as he lets the touch linger. When she finally shakes herself free of the daze he pushes himself up and watches her climb stiffly out of the chair. She's slightly off balance and he deliberately keeps close to her, glancing back over his shoulder at Johnny. His expression is filled with concern and D'avin drops his head in a nod, "I'll take care of her."

"That's what I'm afraid of..." the words tumble out under his breath as the pair leave.

It's none of his business... but at the same time it is. They've got a good thing going on and he doesn't want the dynamic to shift but there's a genuine bond growing there and he can't pretend it's not happening. They're both fighters, both protective as well as fiercely loyal and they're two of the smartest people he knows tactically but they're also clueless when it comes to relationships.

If it is headed that way then Khlyen might end up being the least of their problems.

.

.

.

.

"I told you D'avin I'm fine." She breathes out sharply, frustrated that he seems intent on shadowing her all the way to the ships infirmary. Asking for help was the right thing to do. It was necessary to ensure their safety but it feels like a weakness and she needs time to compartmentalize.

Khlyen was right, friendships have left her vulnerable but they've also made her human and she won't trade off a sense of morals for power. As long as she stays in control and utilities the emotion it's an incentive but right now she can feel exhaustion threatening to shatter her composure. She wants to be alone, to grieve her friend and start working on a plan but the footsteps echoing behind her remain unwavering. "Look..." she doesn't bother trying to mask her annoyance as they close in on the infirmary, "I know you have questions and I will answer them but-"

"I don't care about that." They stop and the skepticism written all over her face causes him to backtrack. It wasn't an intentional lie but they both know it's not the entire truth either. "Okay yeah, I have questions but that's not... I mean, I... those are some bad bruises-" he stumbles over his concern, unable to stop his gaze from drifting to the marks on her neck. She wasn't just attacked she was shot as well and he's not going to accept being stonewalled. "I want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not some wounded puppy. Trust me, I've had worse." She pushes on the door hoping he'll take the hint but his steps follow her inside and a rush of anger coils her instincts. She's exhausted but she isn't helpless and without thinking her body reacts defensively, ramming him back into the infirmary wall with one arm pinning his chest. Before either of them can blink her fingers are clutching around his wrist and in a matter of seconds she has him trapped him firmly in place. "Proof enough?"

"I'll take it." Surprise followed by shocked appreciation curves his lips and she takes pride in the fact they're both breathing heavily. He's strong and hard to subdue but she holds her own until a black haze seeps across her vision. If they were in a real fight she wouldn't give in so easily but the sudden rush hits her hard and she instinctively loosens her grip.

"Dutch?" Concern washes over him and as soon as she lets go he catches her taking the majority of her weight against his chest. She's only out for a second before her head tilts back and her eyelids flutter open but it's enough to spook him. She's not in a good way and he waits for her gaze to focus, watching as her eyes pool with uncertainty and confusion.

He understands the look.

She trusts him but she doesn't know why and the feeling is mutual.

Without thinking he lifts a hand to the base of her neck slowly tracing the discolored skin with the pad of his thumb. The touch is tender and when she breathes in sharply it has nothing to do with pain. The chemistry between them is electric, aided by their close proximity and he swallows roughly unable to fight it. "You don't need to explain anything..." it's the truth this time and he keeps his voice low to show he's being sincere, "I know he hurt you and if that bastard tries to lay a hand on you again, I'll kill him myself."

She can feel anger radiating through his tense muscles but the declaration isn't condescending or patronizing. There's admiration shining through his concern along with unspoken respect and while she doesn't doubt the sincerity of his promise, she knows he's not going to argue with her calling the shots. The realization stirs a rush of adrenaline and she angles her head, holding his gaze as her body presses closer to him.

It's wrong.

He's her best friends brother and they work together but she can't deny the attraction between them and she bites her lip swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat. She's still leaning on him and stands up a little straighter, aware she could pull away at any time but keeping perfectly still. "We shouldn't be doing this."

He's drawn to the uncertainty in her pout and when her tongue darts out to moisten her lips he loses his last strain of composure, "I know... but fuck it." He's too far gone to stop himself and he cups her rear, covering her mouth as he pulls her closer. Even the minuscule amount of space between them is too much and he turns them blanketing her body as she hits the wall. It's heated and intense, setting his nerve endings alight and a rush of senses leave his skin scorched and tingling but he forces himself to stop, painfully aware that stubbornness is the only reason she's still standing.

"Don't quit on me now solider-" her voice is rough as her lips assault the hollow of his neck, desperately trying to ward off the exhaustion creeping in. In the end she'll do everything she can to protect him and Johnny but she's not naive enough to believe the cost won't be her own life. Right now she wants to feel it, every heartbeat and blood cell rushing through her body, everything inside her that's screaming she won't go quietly. She needs to feel it and the desperation is suffocating. "What, scared you'll break me? Go on, I dare you."

The breathless order wrenches deep his chest tearing up his resolve. It's already taking more self-control than he has to show restraint but he's trying because no matter how much she claims to want it, he's still taking advantage of the situation. Or maybe she's taking advantage of him, he's honestly not sure... but it needs to stop now. "Don't take this the wrong way-" his voice is deliberately brash in an effort to defuse the tension, "but you can barely stand. I think now's probably not the best time to be pushing the envelope."

Heat flushes her cheeks but the anger doesn't ease the sting of rejection. She knows he's a decent guy and she might even appreciate that in the morning but it doesn't stop a wave of embarrassment and humiliation from flooding her. "Fine, then get off me-" she pushes against his chest but he doesn't move, keeping her trapped between his body and the wall. "I'm serious D'avin get out of my way."

The deft shove would be humorous if they were sparring but there's nothing funny about the clumsy action and he grabs her wrists tightly. "Look... I'm trying not to be an arsehole here, okay?" He expects some kind of response but the silence is deafening and the flicker of hurt in her expression sends him over the edge. Of course he wants her, that shouldn't even be in question and he pulls her back to his mouth to erase the doubt.

He's definitely an arsehole.

But if it feels this good he doesn't care.

A groan pulls from the back of his throat and he doesn't know if her shuddering response is from desire or fatigue. Either way enough is enough and he hoists her up grabbing her thighs to take the weight. The muscles flex beneath his touch and even the short distance to the infirmary bed proves she's stronger than she looks but it's still not right. She's not just a quick fuck. He's known that since their first mission together and he sits her on the edge of the mattress panting heavily as he unwraps her legs from his waist. "I want you-" he holds her gaze, palming the bed to keep her boxed in, "but we need to think about this... talk about it first."

"I didn't peg you for a talker." Her tone is flat but there's a raised note of sarcasm that makes him flinch and she holds up her hands in mock surrender, "hey, if you can't handle it-"

"Don't," he cuts her off, tapping his fingers to expel the frustration that's building up, "you want to use me fine... but don't pretend that's all it is. We're more than that."

"Why, because we both like guns?" She shakes her head feeling a flare of irritation. She's beyond tired, her head is killing her and she cant stop the stubborn response from gaining momentum, "you don't know the first thing about me so don't pretend like this is something just for my benefit."

The comment has the desired effect and he backs off, running a frustrated hand up through his hair. She already feels a pang of regret, wishing she could take the words back but she doesn't know how and holds her breath waiting to see if she's pushed him too far.

"You're wrong, I know more than you think..." he blows out a sigh, turning back on his heel to face her. Maybe they don't share many physical memories but he's never felt like this about anyone and if she needs proof then he's willing to give it. "I know you'd rather go after this Khlyen guy yourself than ask for help... and I know the reason you won't is because you don't think you can kill him and if you fail that puts everyone on this ship in danger."

He can tell by her expression he's right and he holds still, letting the meaning sink in before continuing, "I know you don't get scared but you are right now and that frustrates the hell out of you... but I also know you're strong and resourceful and you'll find a way to use that fear." Her silence confirms he's on the mark and a slight smirk curves his lips, "and yeah, I know that you'd pick a Vektor CP1 over a Beretta 92FS because the safety's on the front. Which for the record is stupid... but you like it because the rush means you never miss the first shot."

She swallows roughly, caught off guard by the accurate analysis. It's unnerving how close he is to the truth but there's more to her hesitation. She can read him with the same amount of ease, trusts him even though she shouldn't and despite her resolve her shoulders drop with a sigh, "you like control-" she nods to the weapon holster at his side, "Baretta's clunky, dangerous... but you get two seconds to make a judgement call, time to confirm. You need that because you care about doing the right thing." She glances up and he finally catches her gaze, relived to see the understanding shining through.

They're both screwed up, both are running from nightmares and memories that bleed into a shameful past but they're here in the now, surviving and trying to fight for a foothold out of the darkness. He decides then and there that it doesn't matter what happens next, he's not going to give up on them. "We'll find Khlyen-" he takes a step closer brushing his hands over her shoulders, "and if it turns to shit we hightail out. Off the gird, wherever... no one is playing hero, deal?"

The question stems from more than just concern for her safety. She knows he's asking for her trust but if she agrees it could mean dragging them all through hell and back and it's a promise she can't make but she won't lie to him either. "I just need it to stop."

"I know and it will." But he'll be damned if he's going to let her go on a suicide mission to finish it. When she's got her strength back they're going to revisit the conversation, go over every detail to make sure they're prepared because he's not going to lose any member of his team to this bastard and he's not above using some old fashioned incentive to remind her of that. "Shove over."

She's not sure it's a good idea but he's determined and she lies down trying to get comfortable on the small infirmary bed. It should be awkward but it isn't. Instead it feels natural when the mattress dips beside her and his arm drapes loosely over her stomach. "Who's using who now?"

He snorts against the back of her hair and a light smile touches his lips, "you're not the only one who's exhausted and I sleep better with company." She doesn't argue and he relaxes when she settles against him. He made a promise to his brother, that he wasn't going to screw things up and he's trying. He might not be taking the conventional route but they're his team, his family... and he's prepared to do whatever it takes to make things work.