This version of Dyson is a kind of man I wish existed but undoubtedly does not. If you find it unrealistic, then seriously what are you doing reading fanfiction anyway?
Trick is revived a short time later, courtesy of some smelling salts Dyson recalled he had stashed behind the bar. It's clear he wants to have a 'serious talk' about 'how they should proceed', but Kenzi can see Bo getting antsy, and she's trained herself to know a hungry succubus when she sees one.
She tells Trick that as they just beat and hogtied a freaking god, now is not the time for a war council. It's time to celebrate. So he mixes himself some wicked smelling tea for his headache and reopens the bar.
Hale appears a short time later, presumably summoned by Dyson who claps him on the back and says, "Have I got a story for you."
Kenzi does get her cocktail. It's massive and the distribution of mixer to alcohol is not what most people would consider appropriate, but it's heaven. She floats back and forth between her friends, making sure to give Bo space as the evening wears on and her hunt begins in earnest. That girl needs a wing woman like a fish needs a bicycle.
Three drinks and two dance breaks later, she's on the edge of the room when Hale comes over.
"Hey little mama, I hear some congratulations are in order. Taking down the head honcho of Asgard? You're really stepping up your game."
"I was pretty badass." She admits, too buzzed to be humble. Hale would see right through it anyway. He laughs.
"I always knew you had it in you." She smiles back. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Dyson at the bar with Trick, his body turned out enough that she can tell he's sneaking glances in her direction.
"Hale," She starts, not sure where the sentence is going to end up. "About Dyson..." Hale sighs.
"Kenzi, you're my friend, and I'm never gonna stop you from doing you...but I'm not ready to have that conversation yet." She instantly feels like an ass.
"Shit, I'm sorry Hale." He waves it off.
"It's cool, it's cool. When I told you we were good I meant it. And hey, maybe one day I'll be cool to listen to you dish about your man problems but...not today."
She nods.
Chapter Notes
"Yeah. I get it."
The silence hangs there for a moment, twisting into her gut before he says,
"I will say this though: Dyson? He's for real." She looks at him.
"Yeah?" He nods solemnly.
"Poor boy's got it bad. That's the truth." He looks at her pointedly. "And you're not doing yourself any favors by holding back." She nods again, understanding.
"Thanks, Hale."
Dyson is only two beers in, but it feels like six. They did it. They actually did it.
Well, he did very little, but at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter. Compared to some of their usual scrapes, this is on record as being one of the few that didn't involve anyone bruised and bloody by the end of it.
And if his pride is a little sore at missing the chance to show off in front of his childhood hero, he'll just ease it with the memory of Odin's face when Kenzi stuffed his own eye patch into his mouth. Brilliant.
Trick is smirking at him from behind the bar, no doubt guessing exactly what he's thinking about.
"What?" He says, without anger. Trick shrugs. He's doing that thing, waiting for Dyson to come out with his feelings in his own time. He'll never stop being grateful for that.
He sneaks a glance across the room. Kenzi is chatting with Hale. Gods, is she always this beautiful? He turns back to Trick, fixing his eyes on the bottom of his glass while at the same time fighting to keep his tone casual.
"It's funny," He starts. "I've spent years learning how to get women into bed, then a dozen or so more learning what to do when I got them there. But this thing with Kenzi...I'm lost."
Trick puts down the glass he was drying. What he says next surprises him.
"You're not much of a cat person, are you Dyson?" Dyson looks up.
"What?"
"Cats." He repeats. "You ever owned one, spent any time around one?" Unsure of where this is going, Dyson just shakes his head.
"No, uh...cats tend to be a bit skittish around me. Self-preservation I guess." Trick nods and picks up another glass.
"The thing with cats is that they operate on their own terms. There's no rushing a cat. You can't force it to be yours- all you can do is offer your love and affection, consistently, and wait for it to come to you. You see what I mean?"
Metaphors. Of course, Trick's advice would come in metaphors.
He does understand though and nods to show it. He opens his mouth to ask, 'But what if the cat doesn't come at all?' but refrains because honestly, he's too damn scared of the answer.
Trick smiles and continues drying glasses, like his work here is done.
They end up as the last two in the bar, and Kenzi lies shamelessly to herself when she thinks 'what are the odds?' because of course, each was waiting to be alone with the other.
She's at that perfect level of drunk where she'll still be aware of her bad decisions and remember making them in the morning, and when he approaches her at the bar, she very secretly prays that he will be involved in those bad decisions.
"You gonna get a cab home?" She shakes her head.
"As Bo-bo was last seen leaving with not one, but two burly gentlemen, I'm guessing that pad will be rocking for quite a while. Trick's got a couch in the basement, he's let me crash there before."
Dyson shakes his head. His eyes are a little droopy and his forehead is crinkled with the effort of forming words.
"Come back to my place." His eyes widen a little. "Just to sleep I mean. You can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."
She laughs, weighs the pros and cons of giving him shit and decides against it. "Mkay."
The back of the cab is smaller than she anticipated, and her stomach clenches a little at their proximity. He smells amazing, like leather and pine and raw masculinity. It makes her head swim even worse than it already was.
He starts talking almost immediately, filling the silence before it has a chance to get awkward.
"Couldn't believe you today. Hell the whole week. The shit you pulled blew me away. If you'd have told me a year ago that I'd be watching a human who knew next to nothing about our world befriend, manipulate and fight three high-level gods in succession I don't think I'd have believed it. Shows what I know, right?"
She blushes hard, thankful for the dark.
"Bo helped."
"She did." Dyson concedes. "But I still think I won the bet."
"What bet?"
"I made a bet with myself on who would turn out to be the Champion of the Fates' prophecy. Had it all riding on you." He grins at her, and for a second she can't breathe.
"Oh yeah? And just what did you win?" His grin fades and his eyes drop down to her lips.
"That remains to be seen." His voice is like velvet and she's learning forward before she can stop herself.
There's a pointed cough from the driver's seat that makes her freeze.
"Here we are." Says the driver. She hadn't even noticed they'd stopped moving.
The alcohol is already starting to fade bit by bit as he climbs up the stairs to his flat, and the buzz is slowly being replaced with terror. He's so close to getting this right and so close to completely screwing it up.
When she walks in her eyes widen a bit, taking in the space with interest, and for a moment he's confused.
"It hasn't changed." He offers as he takes off his coat. "Since the last time you were here." Now she looks puzzled.
"I've never been to your place before."
"Yes, you have. The night we..." And then it hits him. "Oh, right. Sorry, different timeline." He takes her jacket from her and puts it in the hall closet.
"So I was here, then." She says. "What happened?"
Images hit him- her laugh, her in his bed, the knife nearly impaling her.
"Not much." He goes to the kitchen to pour them both glasses of water.
"Bullshit." She sidles up to him, half grinning. "Spill." He sighs, unable to resist her.
"Well, you had just been attacked by one of Odin's goons. A changeling; real nasty. You weren't hurt but you needed a place to stay, so I brought you here. Naturally, you decided that we ought to get drunk."
He takes a long drink from his glass before looking at her. She's smiling fully now, and he decides to take a shot.
"I wanted to kiss you so badly that night. And when I got kidnapped the next morning and Odin had me chained up, I spent half the time kicking myself for not doing it."
Her smile melts into something curious but hesitant.
"Do you still want to?" She asks, her voice soft as anything. "If possible I want to even more."
She closes her eyes as if letting the words wash over her. They move in sync toward each other, slowly and carefully, not wanting to do anything that might endanger this fragile moment. Her hands come to rest on his chest, one of his finds its way to her jaw. Her skin is smooth and warm. He wants to taste it.
They are inches apart when her eyes fly open.
"Wait." All the air rushes out of him.
"What?" She's clearly panicking but she doesn't move away. Her next words come out in a rush.
"Dyson I'm sorry but Bo is my best friend. She's like my sister and you're her flippin' ex- there are rules about this kind of thing! Very important girl rules that must be followed and before anything happens I have to make sure it's okay with her. I couldn't live with myself if—"
"Kenzi, Kenzi." He says, moving his thumb in a slow arc along her jaw. "It's okay. I understand." He smiles a little to let her know he's not upset. He isn't either. A little disappointed, sure, and more sexually frustrated then he's ever been in his life, but not upset.
He can wait. His wolf wants to gnaw its way out of his chest and pounce, but he can control himself. He knows she's worth waiting for.
Her smile is bright as the sun, making it all the more difficult to pull away. He does though and pointedly hands her the other glass of water.
"Drink." He says. "I need to make up the couch." He goes to do so, her words echoing in his head. Before anything happens. Meaning something will happen. She wants something to happen, once she's confirmed that Bo holds no issue with it. He's fairly sure she won't, but before he falls asleep that night he sends a silent prayer to every love goddess he can think of.
Please.
Kenzi sleeps late, a policy that has historically done wonders in preventing hangovers, if only psychologically. When consciousness does finally come, she moves fast. Once confirming that she is alone in the apartment (the only evidence of Dyson's departure being a short note telling her that he had to get to work, but that she is welcome to anything in the fridge or bathroom) she whips out her phone and calls Bo.
She doesn't answer on the first try, but Kenzi is determined and then relieved when she picks up the second time.
"Yes?" Her friend's voice is groggy.
"Wake up and smell the coffee Bo-licious, your girl's in full on panic mode." She hears sheets rustling.
"Kenzi? What's going on?" Kenzi paces around the open plan apartment.
"I'm at Dyson's. I came here last night to crash and- okay nothing happened because I'm not a total monster but Christ on a cracker did I ever want it to."
"So why didn't you?" Kenzi balks.
"Um, hello? Girl code rule numero uno: thou shalt not covet thy bestie's ex!" She can practically hear Bo's eye roll and is more than a little miffed that she's being so cavalier about it.
"Kenzi, we talked about this. Dyson and I are old news; I just want you guys to be happy." She stops moving.
"Crap, you're serious."
"No duh I'm serious! Now for the love of all that is good and smutty, hang up the phone and go jump his bones!" With that, she hangs up and Kenzi is left there, mouth open and head reeling.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." She's officially out of excuses. She looks at the clock and decides that if she's going to make a fool of herself, she's not going to wait around and risk losing her nerve.
She moves on autopilot, grabs her shoes and coat and heads for the door.
She takes a cab to the station. It isn't far, but time on the train would be time to think about her total lack of a plan, so she skips it. A couple of the desk cops give her confused looks, but she's walking with such purpose that no one tries to stop her.
Dyson is standing by his desk, coffee in hand, chatting with a uniformed officer she doesn't know. The other officer sees her first. He raises his eyebrows then makes the very wise decision to excuse himself, probably assuming from the fierce look on her face that Kenzi is there to chew Dyson a new one.
"Kenzi?" Dyson sets down his coffee. "Are you—" She grabs him by the arm.
"We gotta talk." That's all she says before she's hauling him out of the bullpen. She doesn't know the building, but she figures if she keeps walking she'll find someplace suitably private- an interrogation room or something.
Dyson follows her lead without protest. Finally, she finds a room labeled 'Supply' and figures that is as good a place as any.
She flips the light switch. For a supply closet, it's decently lit, fully showcasing Dyson's confused features.
"Kenzi? What's going—" She throws up a finger.
"Shush. One second." She looks around and finds an unopened box of printer paper on the floor. She scoots it into the center of the room, right in front of Dyson and steps onto it so the two are eye to eye. She loves his height and fully intends to capitalize on it, just not right now.
She flips her hair out of her face and takes a steadying breath before meeting his gaze head-on. He's still lost. She grabs the lapel of his leather jacket and pulls him close; slow enough for him to catch up to the idea. He does, his mouth curving upwards and his hands slipping around her waist. Their bodies press together in a way that makes her ache, as she closes the distance between their lips.
The kiss thrums through her like a deep base line, everything she hadn't let herself crave. Her hands clutch and pull at everything- his jacket, his neck, his hair, and it would be embarrassing if his weren't moving with the same possessive intensity on her waist and up her back.
One of her legs moves up the outside of his thigh and around his waist, drawing a deep groan from him. He takes her thigh in his hand pulls her closer, till she can feel the heat of him between her legs. She lets her head fall back, suddenly desperate for air.
She registers the florescent lights and remembers where they are. She pulls away, returning her foot to the ground but refuses to relinquish the fistfuls of leather jacket in her hands.
Dyson is panting- they both are- looking at her with a mixture of lust and incredulity.
"Dammit Kenzi."
"I know, I know. Queen of bad timing." She wants to lick her lips, not ready to lose the taste of him but doesn't want it to be interpreted as a tease. He shakes his head.
"If you didn't surprise me you wouldn't be you." She presses a final, chaste kiss on his lips before getting down from her makeshift stool. "I take it that means you got the all clear?"
"We have the Bo-ster's blessing." She confirms. Her grin might be idiotic, but so is Dyson's, so she suspects it doesn't matter.
"You could have waited until I had clocked out." He says teasingly, and she gives him a pointed look.
"No Dyson, I really couldn't have." His eyes grow a shade darker, the implications of her impatience turning him on in ways she hadn't expected. She puts a firm hand on his chest before he gets any more ideas. They are still in a supply room after all.
"Hold that thought McGruff. You've got streets to clean up, and I have other business to attend to." She's about to turn and leave.
"Wait." He grabs her hand, serious now. "I'm off day after tomorrow. Let me take you somewhere."
"Somewhere?"
"I'll think of something. But a real date." It's important to him, who knows why, but she finds herself liking the idea. Dyson isn't a dumb twenty-something who thinks pizza and Call of Duty counts as a date. He probably pulls out all the stops.
"Yeah. Okay." She makes her exit before things take a turn for the sappy. Although maybe with Dyson that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Chapter End Notes
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Fenrir or Liam. Also, I promised you smut and smut you shall have! (Soon)