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)

09 December, 2013

"So," Hale said as he tossed a baseball into the air, "was that Kenzi I saw doing the walk of shame yesterday?"

Dyson slammed a file on top a stack, before turning to look at his partner. "Why were you at the Clubhouse?"

"Kenzi let me stay," Hale sniffed.

"Really," Dyson asked tightly.

"Yeah," Hale told him, "so was Kenzi at your place last night?"

"Why would you think that," Dyson fired back.

"Why wouldn't I," Hale returned.

Dyson shook his head and turned to peck at his keyboard.

Hale sat forward, "Come on, man, you were whistling this morning, you only whistle when you're happy. You're only happy lately, when you're with Kenzi."

Dyson hesitated while typing. "Other things make me happy," Dyson finally said.

"Name one," Hale argued.

"A mute partner," Dyson fired back.

Hale sat back in his chair, "Not cool, man."

"Tough love," Dyson growled.

"I don't know why I put up with your grouchy ass," Hale shook his head as he refocused on his work.

Dyson, on the other hand spent the morning entirely distracted. He had spent the night on the couch, the blanket Kenzi had used wrapped around him. It was the only way he had fallen asleep, her scent was calming.

He had woken disoriented, scrabbling for Kenzi, he had woken disappointed, terrified. He still had nightmares of Inari. Only, sometimes it was truly Kenzi he killed, not a doppelganger. A quick stop by the Clubhouse to check that Kenzi was alright had settled his mind. She was sleeping peacefully in bed. He had snuck out as easily as he had snuck in. He wondered if she ever had nightmares about the cave. He did, he had nightmares about what might have happened if they hadn't found her. Would she have cursed him, them all. In some ways he wondered how she could be so forgiving, it had taken far too long for all of them to realize that their Kenzi was not the one walking around and snarking. Too long.

Hale watched Dyson from behind a file. He knew Kenzi had been at Dyson's. It had been a little too easy to figure out. After escaping from the enraged succubus and valkyrie, Hale had taken refuge in Kenzi's room, before being forced to climb up to the roof. Kenzi had been nowhere in sight or sound.

A few phone calls, specifically to Kenzi and Trick led to the knowledge that Kenzi was not at the Clubhouse, and she wasn't at the Dal. Kenzi was a predictable creature. She would hide with someone she could trust. Somewhere he wouldn't be able to get her. Dyson. It was the only real answer that Hale could come up with.

Dyson might think he was subtle, but when you work with a man for so many years, you notice things. Things like where his eyes are when out with friends, what he does in his free time, and how many times he turns down a brew and a game because he already has plans. Kenzi, on the other hand, Hale was fairly certain, wasn't even aware of her feelings. They were a rom-com waiting to happen, and Hale was determined to be in the very center of it all.

"What are we doing for lunch," Hale asked abruptly.

Dyson's head flicked up, "I don't know."

It wasn't an unusual conversation. Living for an extended period of time often led to monotony. So the conversation wasn't unusual.

"What about the deli on fifth," Hale offered.

Dyson shrugged, "The burger place on seventh?"

"Chinese," Hale countered, "from the place on sixteenth."

"Sounds good," Dyson agreed.

"You fly, I'll buy," Hale continued.

"Fine," Dyson sighed, standing as he shouldered on his jacket and picked up his keys. Hale's money in hand, Dyson left the station.

When Dyson returned, Hale wasn't at his desk, so he dropped the food on top of a stack of papers and pulled out his chair. He was met with a stuffed wolf, it was soft and floppy, dark gray with a ribbon around its neck. 'Dyson' it read. The man swallowed a growl. Hale was a dead man.

"That's cute," the dead man in question smirked. "I suppose you are becoming rather…cuddly."

Dyson whirled on his partner, the stuffed animal still sitting in his chair. "Run, run now, and maybe you have a chance."

Hale took a step back. Okay, he may have made a slight oversight.

As soon as Dyson left the squad room, Hale picked up his phone and dialed his sister. "Val," he asked as she picked up, "I need you to do me a favor."

"Why would I do you a favor," Val asked dryly. "The last time I did a favor for you, I ended up breaking several nails and ruining a pair of jeans."

"Hey," Hale defended himself, "you were the one who agreed to help me break into that crypt."

"I thought it was a hypothetical," Val scoffed.

"It is never a hypothetical," Hale argued.

"You said it was!"

"I lie," Hale admitted. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"What do I have to do," Val sighed heavily.

Hale smirked, his tongue tucked between his teeth. "All you have to do is pick up a package from the toy store and bring it here."

"Do I want to know," Val asked lightly.

"Nope," Hale told her, "just hurry."

Dyson sat down at his desk, the stuffed wolf clutched between his large hands. It was rather cuddly, but he, was certainly not. It was a ridiculous thought. A thought and a prank that Hale would most certainly pay for. Dyson did know a few fae who could put him in his place. Maybe the Mercury Triplets, they were always up for a little shock and awe.

A phone call later and Dyson was feeling a little vindicated. Hale had been acting a little nosy lately, and it was about time his nose got whacked like a naughty puppy. It was only natural.

The soft toy that had set the wolf off was tucked in a drawer, and Dyson had to resist the urge to lift it out of the dark and stare at it. He shouldn't have an odd fascination with it. It was a toy after all, a child's toy. Something he should have absolutely no interest in. Except he did. And it was beginning to drive him to distraction.

Was he going soft? No, he was still the big bad wolf, pardon the cliché. He still lived up to his reputation, he was a legend. He hadn't gone soft. It was an entirely stupid idea. Entirely. The pencil he had been using snapped.

"Coffee," the receptionist asked as she perched on the edge of his desk.

Dyson glanced up, "I really shouldn't."

"Oh? Would you like something else, Detective," she asked, breasts pushed up and out. Dyson frowned, Hale had really picked a winner. A winner who was almost as much of a man-whore as he was. It was a little ridiculous to be honest. Hale was way too easy to please.

Shaking his head, Dyson leaned back, "I'm almost done for the day, thanks though."

"Well," she smiled, "if there is anything you ever need, I'm sure you know how to find me."

"Uh-huh," Dyson dismissed her.

After the cloud of perfume had dissipated, Hale returned, "She gone?"

"Yep," Dyson told him.

"She's a bloodhound man, she is still sniffing after me," Hale shuddered dramatically. "I can't do it man, she's insane! Everywhere I turn she's there, trying to get in my slacks."

"Oh," Dyson bit his cheek to keep the smile from slipping out. "So was that you hiding in the maintenance closet?"

"She was following me," Hale defended.

"Right," Dyson nodded, "well she just told me that she was pretty sure you were in love with her and that you were the one, even hinted that there was an engagement on the horizon."

"Oh my god," Hale paled. "You've got to help me, she is crazy!"

Standing, Dyson gathered his things, tucking the plush wolf beneath his jacket. "This is why you should never date a girl in the office pool."

Hale could only gape as Dyson retreated from the station, punching out for the day.

Coasting down the snowy roads, Dyson watched the few people out scurry about. With a laugh, he pulled steered himself towards the curb, driving slowly, passenger window down. The familiar form waked with purpose down the sidewalk, body folded in on itself.

A quick glance over the shoulder and the figure walked a little faster, impossibly steady in tiny heels on icy ground. Dyson continued following her.

A slender hand rose into the air, middle finger extended, "Go home, Perv!"

Dyson chuckled to himself and kept following her. At long last she spun on him, marching over to his car, "I'm not a prostitute, or a street walker, or even a lady of the night, so go home and beat it," Kenzi yelled, stooping down to glare at the John, only to come face to face with Dyson.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning towards her, "Come on, I'll buy you dinner first."

Kenzi rolled her eyes, flipping him off again, "Aren't you the gentleman."

"I really am," Dyson grinned charmingly, "get in."

With a sigh, Kenzi opened the door and slid into his car, "Thanks."

"So, does that happen often," Dyson asked tightly.

"More than is healthy for society," Kenzi answered ambiguously. "So where are you headed?"

"Trick's," Dyson told her.

"Me too," Kenzi told him.

He frowned, "Where were you coming from?"

"Visiting a friend," Kenzi answered easily. "I haven't seen him as much as I want to so I thought I would drop by this afternoon."

"Oh," Dyson asked, as Kenzi settled into the seat, reaching behind her to buckle in.

"Aww," she cooed and Dyson swore. She had caught sight of the fluffy wolf. She reached into the backseat, twisting in her seat to reach the toy. He clenched his jaw, thankful that he had torn the stupid nametag off. Righted in her seat, Kenzi stroked the wolf's ears, smiling and silently cooing. "So who is this little guy?"

There were very, very few explanations for this sort of scenario. Mentioning Hale would lead to questions and mocking, shrugging it off would only pique her curiosity, so charming him was the only possible choice. With a quicksilver smile, Dyson reached over and stroked the plush wolf's head, "I thought you could use someone to keep you company at night."

In an instant, Kenzi was strangling the life out of the little toy, crushing it to her chest and neck. "Dyson," Kenzi sighed before leaning over and pecking him on his cheek. "You're the best."

Dyson breathed a sigh of relief, "So what are you going to name him?"

Kenzi peered at the soft wolf for a moment, Dyson glancing at her from the corner of his eye while he steered down the streets toward the Dal. "Zeus," Kenzi announced after what seemed like a fortnight.

"A good strong name for a protector," Dyson praised.

"He's no Dyson though," Kenzi pointed out sweetly.

Dyson chuckled and wrapped one arm around Kenzi rubbing her shoulder lightly.

Zeus had been left in the car for the moment. Dyson had argued that Trick didn't let animals into the Dal. Kenzi had told him to look in a mirror. Dyson had responded by pointing out he had a reputation to maintain. Kenzi had called him a cuddly wolf underneath the big bad exterior. Zeus had been tucked in the passenger seat while Dyson took over 'guard' duty.

"Cheese fries," Kenzi moaned as she rolled her fry in order to retain as much cheese as possible. "I think I could die happy here."

Dyson smiled, "You're a little fickle, you know that?"

"Am not," Kenzi stuck her tongue out.

"Just yesterday you were ready to live at my apartment, now you're ready to stuff yourself here," Dyson pointed out. "It makes me feel a little cheap."

Kenzi lowered her head, lashes brushing her cheeks sluggishly, "I just love food."

"I know," he grinned. "It's part of your charm."

"I have charm," Kenzi asked with a laugh.

"A whole butt-load," Dyson responded with a laugh and a tap on her rear which made Kenzi jump on her barstool.

"Revolution! The people howls and cries, Freedom, that's what we're needing! We've needed it for centuries, our arteries are bleeding. The stage is shaking, the audience rock. The whole thing is over by nine o'clock."

-Kurt Tucholsky

A/N: 9/25. The next few days may be a struggle, chapters might be a bit shorter. It is crunch time with papers to grade, scholastic bowl practices and tournaments, and lots of annoying nonsense. Hope you all are having a nice day. Lots of love.