an: so this sort of got away from me, it was meant to be dutchy's pov through ransom, but well… this happened instead. i swear, we'll get through season four eventually! also, a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, it definitely helps get me in the mood for writing! slight rating change, as dutchy can't keep his language pg.

timeline: still post 4.03 and pre 4.04.

pov: dutchy

:::

all i see (is green eyes)

:::

They've been idling through the markets for the last twenty minutes in complete silence. It's loud and crowded, bustling with locals and tourists alike, music blaring from all sides. Dylan had kept a measured distance from the X at the start, but the crowds are pressing closer, jostling them together. The first time someone walks past abruptly, shoving the X aside, he clenches his fist, but doesn't move. The second time it happens, she lets out a small sound of surprise, and he moves instinctively, catching her arm and steadying her on her feet. He tenses, waiting for her to snap at him. He's overprotective, and he knows she doesn't appreciate it.

"Thank you." She says quietly, surprising him. "I'm not against accepting help when I need it, Dutchy."

It's disconcerting, how easily she can read him sometimes. "Maybe you don't always realize when you could use the help, X." He can't resist the opening, though the glare she shoots him indicates he should have probably tried harder. Neither of them are going to budge on this. She shakes her head, but doesn't protest when he stays close, his height and bulk carving a path through the crowd.

She stops at a booth, running her fingers over what looks like a jade green dress. He's never really done the 'shopping with a girl' thing, and it's a little weird that he's doing it with the X. He's a guy, he can admit that she's hot, but she's also his boss, and he knows that nothing can happen between them, kiss notwithstanding. It doesn't stop him imagining her in the dress though, and before he can stop himself he blurts, "you should get it." When she turns to him with arched eyebrows, he realizes with horror that he's still talking, "it's pretty, it'll match your eyes." Fuck Dylan, shut up. "The dress, I mean. It'll suit you," he stammers.

His humiliation is complete when the vendor, an elderly woman with white hair and heavily wrinkled skin, throws her two cents in. "Your husband has good taste, miss, it'll be very pretty. You should be buying your wife these," she scolds, turning to Dylan. "Happy wife, happy life."

"Um," he says, wondering if he should cut his losses and run. The X is looking between him and the vendor, nonplussed. He thinks he could gap it before she could catch up, maybe.

"Oh, no, we're not married," the X tries to laugh it off, though he can see she is uncomfortable. Because he needs another reason for her to be upset at him. "We just work together."

The old lady raises her own eyebrows. "Well, the young man is still right." She smiles, "you do have pretty eyes, and the dress will suit you."

"I didn't say you have pretty eyes!" he interjects. "I mean, they're not not pretty, they're your eyes, and they're gre-" he cuts his rambling off, realizing that he's probably throwing fuel on the fire. He looks intently at the neatly folded clothes, avoiding both women. The X is probably steamed up, and he can't really blame her.

"Okay, moving on." She finally says, and he looks up to see that she seems to be fighting back a laugh. She exchanges a few pleasantries with the vendor, before she picks the dress up and holds it against herself. He looks away again quickly when the old lady barks out a laugh. "It's alright Dutchy, I'm not trying it on," she says to him, a teasing lilt to her voice as she gives the old lady money. She says goodbye to the vendor, clutching the bag in her hand as she begins walking again.

He wonders if he should apologize, before deciding to keep his mouth shut. God knew what else would come out. They wander the next three or four stalls without incident, though at the last line of booths they run into Swain, who seems to be picking out children's clothes.

"Hey Swain," the X calls out, seeming to miss the surprised look the medic gives when he sees the two of them together. "That for Chloe? She can't be big enough for those already!"

"I can't quite believe it either," Swain says. "She'll be starting daycare soon!"

Dylan watches them interact with interest. They seem fairly comfortable with each other, and the conversation flows freely. He knew that Swain had a daughter, but hadn't realized that the X knew her.

"I'll have to pop in and catch up with Sally sometime," the X says, startling him further.

"She'd like that, Chlo's been missing her 'Aunt Katie' as well." Swain seems unable to decide between the clothes, and the X laughs as he buys all three outfits. "Thanks for staying in touch with her, by the way, X."

"Are you kidding? Your wife's great, Swaino. She was a blessing when I was shot, don't know how she did it with a newborn in tow!"

"When were you shot?" Dylan demands, breaking into the conversation. His gut clenches, and he knows he's overreacting, but. But. It's the X.

"Oh, a few years ago now. It was just a graze, but it was my right arm, so I was kind of useless for a while there. Nikki and the guys were helping me out, but then they were crash-sailed, so Sally offered to help me out." She explains, as they start walking again.

"Well," Swain starts, "there was that time you were shot in the back by that merc who stabbed Charge."

"Wait, what?!" Dylan can't believe what he's hearing. And she thinks he's overprotective? Sounds like she's needed an extra set of eyes for a few years.

The X rolls her eyes. "I was wearing a vest, Dutchy." She's pensive for a few moments though, and he thinks she's not as unaffected as she's pretending to be.

"You know, X, I swear the Hammersley didn't see as much action before you joined us," Swain jokes.

"Yeah, yeah, keep going Swaino," she threatens, though there's a smile on her face.

"No, definitely keep going, Swain," Dylan adds with a smirk. By the time they return to the Hammersley, the smirk has long faded, and he's in desperate need of a drink. How is it possible for her to have gotten into that much trouble in less than three years? Fair enough, it sounds like she's managed to get herself out of it most of the time, but still.

"Oh, and there was that time you were trapped on that boat with a literal axe murderer."

Dylan thinks that Swain is taking far too much pleasure out of seeing him react, but here he interrupts, a look of disbelief on his face, "go on Swaino, pull the other one."

"No, seriously." Swain's smile fades. "He trapped Buffer and 2Dads, and he killed Lieutenant Bailey. The X managed to push him overboard."

Dylan shakes his head. He's this close to asking her why she's got such an issue with him doing his job and protecting her, but the X looks as if she's in another world, and he bites the words back. They walk through the passageways of the ship, leaving the X at her cabin, before entering their own. He moves through his routine automatically, muttering a terse "'night" to Swain before he lays in his rack and stares up at the top bunk. He thinks sleep will be a long time coming tonight.

:::

He wakes the next morning with a dull headache, the painkillers he'd taken the night before having clearly worn off. He decides against seeing Swain for more, he doesn't want to be out of action, and really, he's fine. A few bruises here and there aren't going to kill him. The headache is probably from a lack of sleep – he'd been restless all night, but he doesn't remember what had kept waking him.

He makes conversation with Bomber on autopilot as he gets his breakfast, pausing outside the mess as he hears his name, though he's clearly missed some of the conversation.

"- think about Dutchy and the X?" Dylan frowns. He hadn't taken Swain for a gossip.

"Mate, what are you talking about?" The second voice is Charge. Great.

"I'm just saying, Charge. You haven't seen him on boarding's, he doesn't let anyone get near her. And he looked pretty well smitten after she went off at him after that last boarding."

"So, he's a little overzealous." Charge laughs. "Smitten? Wait, are you saying you think -?"

"No, no." Swain stops, and Dylan hopes the conversation is over. "Well, they were together last night during shore leave."

"I thought we'd agreed to take everything 2Dads says with a grain of salt. Didn't the boss rip him a new one after he started those rumours about Buffer and the X?"

Dylan scowls. What rumours?

"2Dads knows nothing, and you'd better not say anything to him. But it's pretty weird, right?"

"What is?"

"I mean, well, Dutchy gets along with the rest of us just fine. But with the X…"

Dylan shakes his head. He can't believe this. He turns back to the galley, his hunger suddenly gone. He's not on duty for another three hours though, so he doesn't see the point in heading to the bridge. Instead, he heads to the boat deck, suddenly feeling the urge for a workout, hoping to work out the tension that's gathered at the base of his neck.

He scowls again, thinking of the conversation between his crewmates. Smitten?! Fucking unbelievable.

:::

still keen to know what you're thinking, good or bad.