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)

06 December, 2013

Kenzi swung the door open in anger, hand on hip, "Yeah?"

"Aren't you perky in the morning," Dyson grinned, holding out his hand expectantly.

Kenzi cocked her hip sharply. She knew exactly why and for what Dyson was standing in her doorway. The problem with that happened to be that Dyson's shiny silver handcuffs happened to be occupied at the moment.

"Aren't you an early riser," Kenzi said darkly.

He nodded, "That has been known to be said."

"Ew," Kenzi's brain processed the comment. "And I sort of walked into that."

"And now," Dyson prodded, "you're going to let me walk in to the house."

"Am I," Kenzi questioned, voice pitching higher. "Am I?"

"You are," Dyson stopped slightly, nearly coming nose to nose with the younger woman.

"Really," Kenzi continued, "Am I?"

Dyson exhaled quickly through his nose before stepping forward, forcing Kenzi to step back. "Is that alcohol I smell on your skin?"

Kenzi crossed her arms in front of her stomach, "Is that smart I smell on your ass?"

Dyson snorted shortly, "Oh, Kenzi, morning is really not a good time for you."

She was cringing, her wit falling more than a little short with each part of their normal repartee. "Just stop wording," Kenzi grumbled, pressing a delicate hand against her eyes.

"Then hand over my handcuffs," Dyson pushed, closing the door behind him as he followed Kenzi into the kitchen.

Kenzi smiled sweetly, turning and taking on an innocent affectation. "Be my guest."

Being the very smart, very perceptive detective that he was, he wasn't at all fooled by the soft tone or the sweep of her arm welcoming him further into the building. "As nice as that sounds," Dyson fiddled with a vase that had tipped over, likely in the course of whatever had his handcuffs missing in action, "I think I'll pass."

Kenzi shrugged her shoulders and tipped over the back of the couch, stretching and twisting slightly in order to get comfortable. "Tough break," she moaned.

Dyson padded across the rough wood floor to gaze down at Kenzi. Her tank had ridden up, exposing taut, pale skin, the start of a slight scar trailing across her hipbone. She twisted again, back arching before rolling into a more relaxed state. The hips on that girl, they were something. The subtle flair, the flexibility, the play of muscle, and the delicate concaves that changed and shifted with each of her movements, Dyson was definitely in trouble.

Settling on the back of the couch, Dyson leaned down, letting one hand drop down beside Kenzi's hip. The weight of Dyson's braced hand made Kenzi slide slightly towards the edge of the couch. She squeaked as she rolled into Dyson's firm arm.

She pushed against his arm, glaring up at him, "Tough break," he responded with a smirk.

"Jerk," Kenzi pouted, crossing her arms under her chest.

"Ditto," Dyson responded.

A rough clatter shook them from the silent moment, "Motherfucker," the distinct, smooth, voice of Tamsin yelped followed by the crash of more than one or two glass bottles.

"Uh-oh," Kenzi muttered. With the grace of the dancer she was, Kenzi slipped under Dyson's arm, grabbed a half full duffle and skidded towards the door. "See you later, D-man."

The slam of the door was the last he heard from Kenzi. It shouldn't have been feasible that a human was capable of escaping him not once, but twice in as many days. But then, this was Kenzi. Kenzi had proved herself capable of more things than he thought a human possible of, more things than he though a fae capable.

Hale swore, his lips tightening as he threw a book across the room. It smacked loudly against the wall before dropping flatly to the floor. Hale sighed before shuddering at the mess that was on his bedroom floor. "Kenzi," he groaned and shifted in his stance on the bed. "I am going to kill that girl."

Gagging, Hale chucked a book across the room, it hit the wall before landing with a squelch as it crushed several of the multitude of spiders that had invaded his room. It had started with a tickling on his thigh as he lazed in bed. Then it had become an odd movement upward, odd enough that Hale had thrown off his blankets and screamed. There were six spiders making their way up his leg, slow and steady. With six careful flicks, Hale rid himself of the beady eyed beasts, rolled over and came face to face with a veritable swarm of spiders scrambling across his wood floor.

Books had been the best option. So Hale had begun playing a twisted version of squash. The books certainly didn't bounce, but the guts sort of did.

The morning had been a trial of gagging and smashing. When Hale did manage to get to his closet and find a pair of pants that weren't lined with little spiders it was another furniture hopping experience to get to his door and leave the hellhole his apartment had become overnight.

That, however, was not the end of Hale's Tale of Morning Glory. His key jammed in his lock, and when he finally got it free, he turned around only to be slammed in the face with a newspaper which fell limply down to the mat. The surprised, wide, eyes narrowed and Hale winced as the creases between his brows began to ache gently. "This day is going to suck."

Dyson, meanwhile, was sensing that his day was going to get progressively worse, at least at the moment. After Kenzi's frenzied exit, there had been several more crashes, a great deal of swearing and some heavy thumping from Bo's room, and the distinct crawling sensation on the back of his neck, a sort of seventh sense.

"You," Bo seethed, finger pointed sharply at him, Tamsin half behind her clutching the doorjamb to remain upright. "You did this!"

"I really didn't," Dyson backed up.

"These are yours," Bo gritted out. "Ergo, you did it."

"Did you just use 'ergo'," Dyson asked incredulously. "Correctly."

"I did," Bo wondered, brain stuttering roughly.

"I think so," Dyson agreed, buying himself a few seconds to edge towards and out the door as Bo and Tamsin tried to puzzle out how words worked.

"This is weird," Kenzi was the first to speak.

Dyson frowned, or smiled, "You're the one who is upside down."

Kenzi was indeed upside down, her head hanging off the seat of a chair, her legs draped over the back. "Or maybe it's you."

"Kenz," Dyson warned her lightly.

She continued regardless of Dyson's comment, "What is upside down?"

"Kenz," Dyson tried again. She ignored him and tipped her head further back, almost tucking her head under the chair so she could sip from the straw in her drink below her.

Trick came out from behind the bar and stood beside Dyson, glancing up at the younger man, "It's no use. She's had two of those so far, and they pack a punch."

"What is it," Dyson asked, staring at the odd red and orange drink.

Trick shrugged, "I have no idea, she made it herself and I almost got drunk off the fumes."

"And that explains part of her behavior, but why is she doing a rendition of the Mad Hatter?"

"I found a book," Kenzi grinned brightly, teeth flashing. "I am waiting, for God-oh."

"Book," he demanded, extending a hand for the newly offensive object.

Petulantly, Kenzi arched her back and slipped the thin text from beneath her. With an annoyed huff, she slapped the paperback into Dyson's hand. He skimmed the title and smiled, "Like they always say, Kenz, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Especially if you've been drinking."

"Is that what they say," Kenzi's lips puckered, and she twitched her nose lightly.

After talking Kenzi off an absurd ledge, and staying out of Trick's, Dyson and Kenzi sat waiting for the festivities to kick off. It was December 6th after all, the feast day of Saint Nicholas. It was, apparently, a Fae tradition. With lots of festivities and food, and apparently it was one of the few times where Trick relaxed the rules.

So far there had been two near fires and one slight shower, happily, the games were up and running, and there was cheating galore. The candy was flowing and so was the vodka. Kenzi and Dyson sat watching the chaos, Dyson whispering small bits of info about different fae into Kenzi's ear.

She was two or three drinks gone, and Kenzi's skin was on fire. Not literally, of course, in a good, soft, sort of naughty way. That and Kenzi was half sure that Dyson's hand was squeezing her knee gently, and maybe he was drawing circles on her inner thigh. But that could also be the drinks, Irish whiskey and too much rum, tequila, and gin led to bad, bad brainless things. And clearly it was causing her to hallucinate and make the lights all sparkly.

"Dyson," she leaned on him, her head nestled on his shoulder

"Kenzi," he mimicked, looping an arm around her and stroking her arm gently.

"This is nice, non-death nice," she sighed squirming on her bar seat as she began to tire.

Shaking Kenzi lightly to keep her conscious, Dyson stood up, supporting Kenzi as he did, "Come on, time to get some sugar into you."

"I like sugar," Kenzi giggled. "I like licking it off my glass, and other things."

As Dyson swirled a paper cone through the silvery looking threads of sugar, he stared at Kenzi, making faces just to keep her engaged. Two minutes and way too much sugar later, Dyson presented Kenzi with a ginormous stick of cotton candy. "M'lady," he bowed gently.

Kenzi accepted the treat with wide eyes, immediately taking a bite and unrolling it with her teeth. After only a few chews, her lips were coated with a glittering sugar crystal gloss. Dyson licked his own lips, regretting his decision about getting her cotton candy immensely. Clearly he had a fixation. Anything Kenzi did made him smile, even when she was pulling something over on him. This was purgatory. A state of uncertainty. An unending agony.

Dyson took a step closer, his body acting on its own. Two more steps and he could toss the candy aside and kiss her lips clean. He could suckle and worry her soft lips.

The wolf's movements were halted quickly as someone stormed between him and his intended target. Dyson growled.

Kenzi started as Hale appeared in front of her, his face stone-like. "You," he growled, I know it was you!"

"What," Kenzi asked, her senses returning with each gulp of sugar.

Hale spun, pacing in clear frustration, "The spiders, you put spiders in my apartment! And not just one or two, but a whole cluster of them."

"Fu—dge," Kenzi exclaimed in genuine shock.

Hale froze, "That wasn't you?"

"K-arma," Kenzi sang. "You get what you give."

Hale sighed, the anger draining out of him he backed off and sat down beside Kenzi, Dyson taking the seat on her other side. "It has been one hell of a day," Hale continued. "After the spiders, the paperboy threw the newspaper right in my face, I got papercuts!"

Kenzi snorted, choking lightly, "Now that," she spoke lightly, "that was me."

Dyson smirked behind the rim of his glass as Hale spewed his freshly poured beer out his nose. "You...," he choked.

Kenzi shrugged, "Karma's a beyatch. So is Kenzi."

Hale was boiling, so Dyson, being the good friend that he was, helped Kenzi to her feet and guided her far, far away from the man who could literally scream their heads off and carried a gun.

"Not bad," he whispered in her ear, drawing her over to Vex's magic station.

Kenzi shrugged, unconsciously moving closer into Dyson's form, "I have my moments."

In silence, they watched Vex use his Mesmer powers to make the 'volunteers' do some very, very wild things, things that bordered on illegal. Out of the corner of her eye, Kenzi noticed Bo and Tamsin, still locked together, they were taking on two elemental fae in a drinking contest which looked like it may turn into yet another orgy—handcuffs or not. Kenzi never noticed that Dyson was all but marking his territory, growling and glaring at any man or woman who approached them.

The night ended with Kenzi and Dyson strolling down the nearly empty streets. Hands linked and swinging between them, every few yards, Dyson would force her into a pirouette. She would giggle and spin towards him, dragging him more than once into a quick spin. With nowhere to be, and no one waiting on them, Kenzi and Dyson found themselves caught in the first snow of December. The snowflakes drifting and swirling down around them, dotting her midnight hair with white and leaving Dyson's curls damp.

With matching smiles, Dyson and Kenzi kept walking, the chaos of the day fading as night fell.

"Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six."
-Leo Tolstoy

A/N: 6/25. I'm a romantic at heart and a cynic in public. Some people think that those two things are binary. This is why I love the rare-pairings and why I root for the villain (at times). We are going to see plenty of Bo/Tam fluff and friendship, lots of Dyson being a sucker and Kenzi being adorbs. Until tomorrow, thank you for the reviews, hope you enjoy this chappie. Love to you all!