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)

12 December, 2013

Dyson hitched Kenzi a little higher on his back, his arm supporting her, her arms wrapped around his neck. She had refused his help, nearly fell on her face and murdered an orange cone before she allowed Dyson to give her a piggy-back ride. Once she was situated, Kenzi had proceeded to tell him to 'giddy-up'. Dyson had only been able to laugh and keep walking, ignoring her attempts to ride him, and sadly it wasn't in the way he really wanted her to.

Sliding his door open, Dyson stepped into his loft. Leaving the door open, he moved over to the kitchen island and sat Kenzi on it. Once he was sure she would be 'safe' for the moment, he moved to close the door, shedding his jacket and shoes. When he turned back, he was met with a very familiar sight.

Kenzi was writhing in the middle of the island. She was humming to herself and dancing lying down. Her hips swiveling and swaying her legs sliding against each other, arms stretched above her head as she rocked her head back and forth.

Dyson moved closer so he could watch her, "Kenz."

"Mm," she murmured, "D-man, you're table is really comfy."

"Is it," Dyson asked, hand ghosting along her leg.

"Totally," Kenzi purred, "you should join me!"

He tightened his grip on Kenzi, "Should I?"

Kenzi smiled at his husky voice, "Mhm."

"Why should I," Dyson asked, tugging her a little closer. She slid across the surface of the counter, giggling as her skirt began to ride up a little.

"Because," Kenzi smiled up at Dyson, "I'm lonely."

Dyson grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sitting position, arm curled around her waist to keep her that way. With a smirk, he began to pluck the money from her cleavage, letting it drop onto the floor. Kenzi giggled softly. Dyson locked gazes with the young Russian, letting his knuckles dragging gently across her pale flesh, her skin burned at the touch.

When each piece of currency was gone, Kenzi arched back and slid back onto the counter. "Dyson," Kenzi breathed heavily. "Is it wrong that we hang out so much?"

"No," Dyson rushed out. "No."

"Promise," she asked, her eyes becoming glossy, "I really, really like you. And it would suck if we had to stop being friends."

"Team Dyson," Dyson reminded her, "All the way."

Kenzi sighed, quirking her head to the side, "But you and Bo-Bo aren't Byson anymore..."

Dyson sighed, he had dreaded this moment. It was inevitable if he wanted to be with Kenzi, but it was going to be rough. "Kenz, I need you to listen to me. I care for Bo, but I don't…love her."

"What," Kenzi exhaled in shock, "but you're Bo and Dyson, you've got the major chemistry."

"Kenz," Dyson pulled her back up, framing her face with his hands, "please understand, that while I care for Bo, we are friends now, and that is all we will ever be."

Kenzi frowned, her nose crinkling adorably, "I don't get it. You have your love back, and you're D-man, the Dyson again."

"Oh Sweetheart," Dyson sighed, bringing her into a hug, "When you gave me my love back, I realized so much. I couldn't hide from the truth any longer. Bo and I were using each other, I got confused, I wanted to love her, but I didn't and I don't."

"So it's my fault," Kenzi's eyes welled up.

"No," Dyson stroked her back firmly, "this has nothing to do with you." He lied. It had everything to do with Kenzi. She had always been his reason, the reason he had hung around Bo so much, had become more proactive on the scene again. If he were to tell her that, the tears would fall and she wasn't ready to hear everything. Not now, not when she should be snuggled in bed.

Kenzi sniffled softly, "Does that mean you're going to start dating some bimbo now?"

"No," Dyson wiped away the start of a tear, "I promise I won't date any bimbos."

"Or evil chicks," Kenzi continued.

"Or evil chicks," Dyson repeated.

"Okay," Kenzi swallowed a hiccup-sob, "I just…I just miss you."

Dyson kissed her forehead, warm lips lingering before retreating a fraction of an inch, "I'm right here."

"I know," Kenzi wrapped her arms around Dyson, leaning her cheek against his chest. "I shouldn't miss you so much."

Dyson lifted Kenzi off the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist, "Time for bed, Kenz."

She held him tighter as he walked towards the couch, "Will you cuddle with me?"

He didn't answer for a moment, she sighed in resignation, "Okay."

"Thanks, Dyson," she whispered.

Some fancy maneuvering had Kenzi out of her dress and into one of Dyson's t-shirts. There had been a great deal of soft giggles, wandering hands, and scooting. Dyson was nothing if not resourceful, however, so it was more than feasible in the end to preserve Kenzi's modesty and prevent any other odd questions to arise.

The t-shirt, however, wasn't exactly a great cover-up. It was a white t-shirt, soft and worn, and it had a tendency to be less than opaque. As Dyson set up the couch with blankets, Kenzi was twisting on her now bare feet, her form silhouetted, the shirt becoming rather see-through as she danced before a lamp. Dyson watched her as he stripped out of his t-shirt before retreating to his room to swap his jeans for pajama pants. When he returned, Kenzi was pirouetting on the concrete floor, leg kicking up, flashing Dyson a nice view of some lacy panties.

As Kenzi spun, Dyson moved close enough that he could reach out and grasp her waist. When she slowed, her movements become longer and less frenzied, he did reach out, halting her motion, "Time for bed, Tiny Dancer."

Kenzi giggled and let Dyson tuck her into the made-up couch, putting her back against the back of the couch. "Did you just use an Elton John song?"

"Maybe," Dyson smirked, lowering himself down next to Kenzi as he turned the lamp out. "Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand, and now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand," Dyson sang softly, drawing Kenzi into his arms.

"I can't believe you know Elton John," Kenzi smiled in the dark, her bare legs tangling with his legs.

Dyson stroked a thumb down her side, "I'm a man of many mysteries."

"What else," Kenzi prodded, voice quiet in the dark.

Dyson thought for a moment, pressing Kenzi against his chest, "I enjoy pub quizzes, I still travel to my homeland, and I love this."

"This," Kenzi's brow wrinkled.

"The domestic part of life," Dyson clarified, "making breakfast together, watching movies, napping, pillow talk…"

"I thought that wolves weren't supposed to be domesticated," Kenzi snickered.

Dyson nuzzled her hair, "I'm hardly domesticated, and I'm just getting old."

"Uh-huh," Kenzi snorted, "ancient."

"Peaceful, it's peaceful," Dyson ignored her comment. "I think I always felt like I was missing this part of life."

"Well," Kenzi sighed, "I guess I'll be your cuddle-buddy if it will make you happy."

Kissing the top of her head, Dyson told her, "It would."

Dyson was warm, he was usually warm, but this was a warm weight. Kenzi was lying on top of him. His t-shirt had ridden up, her bare belly pressed against his. His hand had slipped up Kenzi's back, under the shirt and the back of her bra. Speaking of her bra, Dyson could feel the lace pattern against his chest, the t-shirt proving itself to be a poor barrier.

Smoothing down her hair, Dyson looked down at his little human, she was so fragile looking, but she was stronger than even he was. She would go to the ends of the earth for her friends. It was just who she was. There had been rumors about precisely what had happened to the Norn, Dyson had some theories, but Kenzi had never really spilled the full story. There was something about the violence with which she approached certain situations was terribly attractive. That Kenzi wielded a sword and kicked major butt made Dyson drool. He supposed it had to do with his instincts. He was instinctually attracted to powerful women, Kenzi was that, but she was also soft. She was kind and she cared with every bit of her, sacrificing her own safety, life, and independence for anyone she cared for. His instincts told him to claim her, protect her, and make sure she would never leave him.

It took several moments for Kenzi to rouse from her dreams, she shifted, Dyson freezing as she practically rubbed herself across him. If there were something to be said about Dyson, it would be that he had extraordinary restraint. He did, however have to get to work, so Dyson finally stroked her cheek gently, "Time to wake up."

And wake she did, pressing against him as she strained to lift her head, their lower bodies separated by a thin layer of cloth and nothing more.

"Hmm," Kenzi groaned, opening her mouth several times in an effort to rid herself of the cottony sensation that hung about. When her mouth was suitably moist, she blinked slowly, "Mm, morning."

"Good morning," Dyson said lowly.

"How did I get here," Kenzi asked slowly, head dropping back to Dyson's bare chest.

Dyson stroked her hair, "I brought you here, after you nearly face-planted in the Dal."

"Really," Kenzi scowled, "I blame the shoes."

"So you said last night," Dyson agreed simply. "It was rather adorable."

"I'm always adorable," Kenzi pouted, inhaling the scent of the man beneath her.

Kenzi stood in Dyson's kitchen, not on the table, this time, but in front of it. Dyson had asked her a small favor. A favor Kenzi had agreed to, at least she had when Dyson had waived two new cookie sheets before her nose. Two new, nonstick, cookie sheets that were all hers…as long as she did him the favor.

So Kenzi stood in Dyson's kitchen, his pajama pants still warm from his use, on her legs, rolled up to keep her from tripping, and still in his shirt. With practiced movements, Kenzi set about making batter. The precinct was having a Holiday luncheon, and Dyson had drawn dessert from the hat.

Dyson didn't bake. It just wasn't something he was known to do. It was a ridiculous thought. Kenzi, however, was an excellent baker. Cook, not so much, but Dyson was more than capable of that. So Dyson had set about to persuade her into baking for him. It hadn't taken too much thought, a set of shiny new baking sheets would be encouragement enough. Her own baking sheets were less baking sheets anymore and more warped sheets of thick aluminum.

When he had presented the deal, Kenzi had, admittedly, practically jumped on him. He was actually forced to hold them out of her reach, which encouraged her to attempt to climb Mt. Dyson, which she wasn't half bad at.

Dyson glanced up from his desk when he heard the familiar click of Kenzi's heels against the tile. When he glanced up he was met with a very pretty sight. Kenzi in her dress and wearing one of his sweaters, belted with one of his belts. In her arms was a platter full of cookies.

He stood quickly and moved to meet her, "Hi, Kenz."

"Hey, D-man," Kenzi smiled brightly. "Lace cookies with chocolate on top."

Glancing down at the cookies Dyson nodded before leaning across and pressing his lips to her cheek, "They look almost as good as you."

"Charmer," Kenzi accused lightly.

"I try."

Dyson took the tray from her hands and set it on Hale's desk as Kenzi moved to sit in his chair. She crossed her legs, dress falling up her thighs, exposing a few inches more of creamy skin. Dyson bit back a throaty wolf of a growl as several of the other men whistled and cheered at Kenzi. She laughed in response, her green eyes never leaving Dyson's.

"The wind plays up; snow flutters down. Twelve men are marching through the town."

-Alexander Blok

A/N: Finished a good chunk of 12/25 last night. But when 11 rolled around I needed to hit the hay. Finished it today, during my lunch, and I'll be writing another when I get home from work. Thank you for being understanding the lateness. Both my JV teams won both of their rounds this afternoon so it was a pretty good match. Lots of love and thanks for all the feedback!