Disclaimer: I do not own Lost Girl, the plot is of my own imaginings, and any characters that are unfamiliar. (This is set AU of S3 episode 11—Lauren's job was not Fae related, and Bo's father has not yet gotten involved)
03 December, 2013
"Move your fae-ass," Kenzi shivered roughly.
Hale sighed, "We didn't tell you to stalk us to a meat packing plant, Kenzi."
"And yet," Kenzi smirked, "You didn't tell me not to."
It was Dyson's turn to roll his eyes as he scanned the refrigerated room, flashlight glancing off meat hooks and more than one cleaver. "Go wait in the car, Kenzi."
"Nu-uh, no way, no how," she scoffed. "I know what happens when girls like me go off on their own during a horror movie."
"'Girls like you'," Dyson asked.
Kenzi nodded, shifting from foot to foot, "Sexy Lil' Momma's."
"Who wield a katana," Dyson asked for confirmation.
"It could happen," Kenzi argued weakly. "I'm sorta the weak link in this trio."
Dyson chuckled lowly, "I wouldn't call you the weak link, Kenz."
"Suck up," Hale grumbled just softly enough that only the wolf would hear. "So what actually inspired you to tail us here?"
Kenzi shrugged, "I really love steak. And things that moo."
"So you're just in this for the meat," Dyson questioned, highly doubting her motivations.
"Oh yeah," Kenzi purred, "this girl loves her some beefcake."
The tiny ebony haired woman took full advantage of her vantage point. Both detectives were fit, but Kenzi had to hand to the wolf-man, he filled out a pair of jeans like nobody's business. "Bad Kenzi," she muttered under her breath before refocusing on the large room around her.
And then she felt something squelch under her heel, "Eww," she shuddered in a reflexive disgust.
"What," Dyson spun around, flashlight flicking back and forth. "What's wrong?"
Kenzi was frozen, eyes cast upward, terrified at what might be touching her shoes: the super-cute, super-comfy, sexy as hell over the knee lace-up boots. "Something squicked," the young woman whimpered.
Dyson's eyes swept downward, and there, beneath Kenzi's right heel was a partially liquefied rat. Not that he was about to tell the muttering, whimpering badass. Instead he stepped forward, "Kenzi, it's just a rag."
"You're lying to me, right," eyes flickering down to meet his.
Dyson remained stoic, "Kenz, it is just a rag."
"Yeah," she wavered, taking a step forward, and resisting the urge to look back and down. "Distract me please. What big bad baddie are we tracking?"
Dyson grinned, "Norton, he's a very big bad, slimy, informant of Hale's."
"Literally slimy, like fae-slimy, or just a creep," Kenzi asked, almost hoping for the former rather than the latter. At least it would be a story that she could never tell anyone ever.
Hale huffed, "He's not slimy. He's just a little skeevy."
"You met him in the back of a video store," Dyson recounted for Kenzi's benefit more than anything.
"Ooh la la," Kenzi smirked, "Detective Hale, you dirty, dirty boy." Dyson bit his cheek to prevent his laughter from ticking off his partner who may or may not have had a tendency to knock out people who irritated him.
"Ha-ha," Hale enunciated, utterly lacking any humor the statement usually carried. "I had a case."
"A case of the Friskies," Kenz moved in step with Dyson, sticking close to his side.
The snort of laughter couldn't be squelched, Kenzi turned, eyes widening comically at Dyson's uncharacteristic outburst. She wasn't aware he could make that noise. Although, Kenzi figured that there were a lot of noises that she wasn't aware that Dyson could make. Okay, so the Clubhouse had really thin walls that were mostly holes, and she had heard a lot of noises coming from Bo-Bo's bed, and maybe once or twice the sexy little growl had slithered into one or five daydreams, but Kenzi didn't know Dyson's daytime non-sexy fun-times noises. And oddly enough, that little snort was kinda, sorta, really sexy.
Kenzi winced internally. She was having a serious case of the spaces. It wasn't the first time this December that Kenzi had found herself less than focused. Hell, Kenzi had nearly taken a chunk off of her fichus this morning during her morning routine. And there was a euphemism for the crowd. And there was the space-case case-in-point. And the nail in the coffin was when Kenzi found her face planted in the middle of Dyson's shoulder blades. Yeah, she really needed to learn to focus.
Leaning around the detective in question, Kenzi spotted the informant in question. And contrary to popular belief that humans weren't literally slimy, this guy was sort of…well, dripping. And it was definitely not a sexy man sweat, I just built something dripping. This was more mucus and pink gunk.
"Ew," Kenzi groaned, pressing her nose against Dyson's arm, trying to proverbially drown out the scent of miscellanea gunk with the musky scent of rough & tumble man.
Dyson cleared his throat, "That is pretty ripe."
"Ripe," Kenzi wrinkled her nose, "Ripe was like five days ago when the snot was fresh."
"Jason," Hale called. "You didn't answer my call."
'Jason' backed up a few steps, not far enough though in Kenzi's mind.
"He's going to run," Dyson told Hale.
Hale shook his head, "He's not going to run."
"Yes he is," Dyson tipped his head at the guy who was backing away slowly.
Hale groaned as Jason tripped backwards over his feet before managing to run further into the building. "I know that rat is not making me run in my new Prada's," Hale dashed after him.
Kenzi frowned when Dyson didn't move. "Aren't we following?"
"Nah," Dyson declined. "If we help him now, he won't learn his lesson."
"So," Kenzi stalled, "here we are, all alone with a bunch of cow corpses."
"Romantic, isn't it," Dyson wiggled his eyebrows, Kenzi only barely catching the motion in the dim lighting.
She shoved the man lightly, her fingers flexing against his firm bicep, "Maybe for you Wolf-man, but I'm not much on raw meat before the third date."
"That may cramp my style a little," Dyson intoned seriously.
Kenzi's tongue curled behind her teeth, a million retorts waiting to fall, "Yeah, uh-uh, I totes believe you have style."
Dyson spun on the girl, advancing slowly, steadily towards her. "Kenzi," he whispered, breath skimming her ear and neck. "I have so much style that if I actually unleashed even half of it, you would be on your knees begging me for more."
"Oh," Kenzi's sharp inhalation might have been from the sudden chill that crept up her back, or it might have been from the sudden tightening of her abdomen and the fire that raced through her lungs. Swallowing and shaking the fuzzies from her brain, Kenzi cocked her head to the side, "You wish."
With that she spun on her heel and stalked back the way they had come. Carefully skirting the dark shadow on the ground that she was almost positive was not a rag.
Dyson tilted his head to the side like the proverbial canine he was and watched, without shame, Kenzi walk away. "I really do wish," Dyson grumbled as his jeans became just a tad uncomfortable. This had the makings of a very, very long evening.
"Wait up," Dyson called.
"I am going to kill you," Kenzi growled at Hale. "I am going to take Gerladine and slice you from Prada to fedora and then feed you to Dyson."
Hale coughed and took a step back from the curiously soaked Kenzi. Her hair was plastered to her head, her shirt, jeans, and boots coated in a shiny egg-like coat. "Let's not be hasty," the siren begged, glancing at Dyson for a little support.
Dyson held his hands up, the universal sign that he was staying out of it, and that Hale was a dead fae walking.
"Then," Kenzi continued. "I'm going to take your precious collection of suits, and hats, and ties and dress up a Brownie. And then I'm going to show him a very, very dirty crime scene and ask him to clean it up. And when everything is utterly dirty, I'm not going to dry clean anything, I'm going to burn it."
"Holy mother of all that is unholy," Hale paled, "you are an evil little woman."
"You haven't seen evil yet," Kenzi advanced on Hale. It was his fault after all. She and Dyson had been perfectly fine snarking back and forth until Hale chased 'Jason' right into Kenzi. Bowling the formerly dry and even tempered woman over and thoroughly coating her with a substance none of them had yet identified.
"Okay," Dyson stepped between the pair. He was a cop after all, and he should probably prevent a murder that would put Kenzi behind bars. "Hale, you are going to take your informant back to the station and deal with him. I am going to take Kenzi home and get her clean."
Kenzi leaned back with a huff, moving to cross her arms only to rethink it when the unpleasant moistness slid across her skin. "Fine," she growled darkly, "but you better run fast before I change my mind." Hale stepped even farther away, quickly melting into the early evening darkness, dragging the stumbling informant with him.
Turning to Dyson, Kenzi arched a brow, silently asking him what his plan was. He slowly walked to the back of his car and dug a heavy blanket out of the trunk. With the ease and strength of a shifter he tossed it around her, settling it evenly about her shoulders. With a flourish, he opened the passenger door and gave a little bow, "M'lady."
Kenzi's lip twitched into a sneer not unlike Billy Idol's. "I'm going to kill him."
"Of course," Dyson agreed easily closing the door gently as Kenzi settled into the seat.
"This is disgusting," Kenzi whined. "What the hell is this?"
Dyson started the car and pulled out of the warehouse district, "Nothing a little soap and a lot of hot water can't fix."
"It better."
"This isn't the clubhouse," Kenzi noted.
"No," Dyson said slowly, "it's not."
Kenzi was tired, she was gross, and she was running out of patience, "Why are we in your parking garage?"
"I thought you might like a hot shower," Dyson told her.
"My place has hot water."
Dyson nodded, "I'm well aware that what you consider hot water is created by lighting a butane torch and applying it to the water tank."
"Hey," Kenzi snapped, shoving her finger in Dyson's face, "it works."
Dyson smiled sweetly and started his engine, "If you really want to go to the Clubhouse I'll take you there."
"No," Kenzi sulked, and let Dyson help her out of the car and into the lift. "I can't believe this. Here I was, innocently minding my own business and I get slimed."
Dyson wisely chose to ignore the fact that Kenzi was 'forgetting' the fact that she had tailed them to the meat packing plant. Safely inside his apartment, Dyson guided Kenzi to the bathroom and turned the shower on, cranking the heat up to just below scalding. Reluctantly he turned around and let Kenzi strip down and jump in the shower, only turning around when he heard the door click shut. Frosted glass was officially something he hated. Dyson's mouth was dry, his tongue rasping across his lips as he watched Kenzi's curvy silhouette turn beneath the shower.
"I'm using your soap," Kenzi called. "Ooh, cinnamon and sandalwood."
That was Dyson's cue to escape before he lost control.
Quietly, Kenzi padded out of the bathroom, towel wrapped firmly around her tiny torso. Dyson was reclining on the couch, a beer in hand and a second on the coffee table in front of him. At the soft tap of her bare feet across the concrete floor Dyson spun, smiling softly at how different Kenzi looked. It wasn't often she was stripped down to just the skin she was in. She looked very vulnerable, soft. Rising, Dyson picked up a double breasted button-up sweater from the back of the couch.
Handing it to Kenzi he winked before brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought you might like something dry to wear."
Kenzi nodded and, with all the skill of a former dancer, she slid the warm, dark gray sweater around her shoulders and did up the buttons before dropping the towel. Kenzi's petite stature was a blessing in this case, while the low cut revealed a good deal of bare skin and a good hint of cleavage, the bottom of the sweater fell to her mid thigh.
"This is super comfy," Kenzi grinned, wrapping her fingers up in the sleeves.
Dyson shrugged, reigning in his control and the waver in his voice, "You can keep it, I hardly wear it, and I know a fae cleaner who can clean your clothes on Hale's dime."
Kenzi grinned and walked over to the couch, happily cuddling up, legs tucked beneath her, "Thanks D-man."
He only smiled, handed her the extra beer and tried not to think about how her skin glistened, how it smelled like him, how her bare skin was gliding across one of his favorite sweaters, her scent no doubt absorbing into the fibers.
"Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth."
-Buddha
A/N: 3/25. Thank you again for the lovely reviews. I'm starting in on crunch time. I have a lot of papers to grade and I coach scholastic bowl, so this should be an interesting week or two. Lots of love, and please review, the inspiration for this fic and the chapters comes from gifts that show subtle affection, it was a bit of trouble figuring out 25 things Dyson could get Kenzi. Let's just say you're in for 22 more days of utter fluff—and maybe the murder of Hale!