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)

24 December, 2013

"Kenz," the light in the living room flicked on, "what exactly are you doing?"

The tiny human sighed in defeat as Dyson watched her from the stairs. She was half under the tree, no doubt attempting to sneak an early peek at the presents there.

"Nothing," she tried, "I thought I saw a mouse?"

"Try again," Dyson snickered, moving to stand over Kenzi.

She grumbled as she admitted, "Fine I was trying to solve a mystery, you know I hate mysteries."

"Nice try, but you are in big trouble, Missy," Dyson hooked his fingers around Kenzi's hips and slid her out from under the tree.

Rolling over so she could look up at the shifter, Kenzi pouted, "Aw, come on D-man, it's Christmas!"

"No it isn't, Kenz," Dyson frowned.

"Practically," she hedged.

Dyson gripped her hands and hauled Kenzi to her feet, "It is Christmas Eve morning, and it's barely that."

"You're being a Grinch," Kenzi accused.

He snorted, "By preventing you from spoiling Christmas for yourself? Yeah, that's me."

She really had to restrain the urge to stomp the ground and leave in a huff. Kenzi settled for sticking her tongue out and heading up the stairs. And being the totally mature and responsible adult that she was, Kenzi locked the bedroom door and decided that Dyson was just going to have to wait until she had a nice long, hot, bath to do anything.

Dyson on the other hand set to work getting breakfast together. It was apparently going to have to be a 'to go' order because somebody couldn't be trusted alone in the house.

Kenzi opened the bathroom door in a waft of steam. She, after all, lived by the mantra of 'go big or go home'. She did nothing by half. If she was mad she was going to be Medusa part two, except with way better hair. And if she was going to have her little revenge, she was going to make Dyson suffer. Part one of that was using as much of the hot water as she possibly could, part two included the outfit she had decided on for the day.

Life was an eye for an eye, at least when it came to love and war. If Dyson insisted on torturing her…well, then he should be prepared for a taste of his own medicine. Form fitting dark-blue jeans and a scoop neck red long sleeve shirt with an open, lace-up back. Kenzi knew exactly what would set Dyson off. Of course it would be too easy if it was obvious.

Diving into the closet, Kenzi shifted through the duffles that had been left there for the moment. It was a task digging through the stacks of clothing for a sweater. It would, Kenzi figured, be easier in the long run to just unpack, but that wasn't how Kenzi lived. Not really. When the heather gray sweater in question was unearthed, Kenzi slipped it on and tied it closed.

"Car," Dyson's voice startled her enough to make her jump.

Spinning around, Kenzi shoved Dyson's chest roughly, "Make a noise, Frodo!"

"Frodo," Dyson asked. "Besides I did make a noise, I called your name three times."

Her ass he had. He just enjoyed sneaking up on her. It made him all smug and wolfy.

"Car," Kenzi asked.

Dyson nodded, eyes doing a full body walk. "Since I can't trust you to behave while I run errands before the party, you are going to have a play-date with the gang at the Dal."

"A play-date," Kenzi asked incredulously. "Seriously."

"Terribly," Dyson caught her wrist as she tried to push past him.

A soft click made Kenzi freeze, "You did not!"

White teeth bared, Dyson pulled Kenzi flush against him, "I did."

"Dyson," Kenzi tugged against the hold he had on her. It was futile for the moment. Her left wrist was held tight by the new adornment she'd been gifted with. "Handcuffs, seriously."

"You're repeating yourself, Sweetheart," Dyson said with a little concern, "Cat got your tongue?"

"More like a pesky fur-ball," Kenzi snapped.

"Words hurt," Dyson scolded softly. His lips came down on hers without warning, Dyson drawing the kiss from her possessively, forcefully. He let her go with a noticeable exhalation. "Car."

"Suck my metaphorical—," Dyson didn't let Kenzi finish her statement, curling his hand over her mouth with a raised eyebrow.

"Finished," he asked after she attempted to glare him to death.

Unable to express her annoyance verbally, Kenzi resorted to giving Dyson's palm a good long slobbery lick. When she had finished, she looked up at him in triumph. Well, it would be triumph if Dyson had actually reacted. He just quirked a brow as if to ask if she had really just licked his hand.

"The hard way it is," Dyson cheerily answered for her. In a matter of seconds, Kenzi's free hand was cuffed as well and Kenzi was hefted up and over Dyson's shoulder. She let out an indignant gasp as the air rushed from her lungs

"I'm not wearing shoes," Kenzi yelped reaching her bound hands for the doorframe in a desperate effort to remain in the bedroom as Dyson began the walk out of the room.

"Good," Dyson bounced her a little, hand coming down on her behind, fingers clenching to keep her in place.

"I need shoes," Kenzi wriggled a little, trying to get loose.

Dyson squeezed her ass, "Not having shoes makes it a little harder for you to do anything that might get you into trouble."

"You would think that," Kenzi sighed, "but I'm inventive."

"Which is why the handcuffs are staying on until I've transferred custody," Dyson took the stairs carefully. He didn't doubt that Kenzi would try to bring them both down. She had a strange sense of safety. But that, he decided, was something that he liked about her.

Dyson kicked the door to the Dal open, Kenzi over his shoulder and still fighting. It was a necessary evil, he had things he needed to do today, and clearly she couldn't be trusted to behave herself.

"Dyson," Trick exclaimed, hurtling out from behind the bar, "is that Kenzi? Is she alright? What happened?"

"She's in trouble," Dyson growled, squeezing Kenzi's thigh tightly when she started to speak.

Trick shook his head, the concern evident in his voice, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Kenzi grunted, kicking her bare feet trying to at least whack Dyson a little bit.

"Is that actually Kenzi," the ancient bartender asked on the off-chance that lightning had struck twice.

"Yes, Trickster," Kenzi growled. "This oaf is being a pig-headed prat."

"That hurts, Kenzi," Dyson sniffed delicately.

"Put her down, Dyson," Trick frowned, "and where are her shoes?"

"Yeah where are her shoes," Kenzi asked as she was dropped onto a barstool.

Trick shook his head, tired face hiding a hint of a smile, "Now exactly what is going on?"

"She's a sneak," Dyson pointed a finger at Kenzi. Kenzi smiled and showed him a finger of her own. "Uncalled for," Dyson said evenly.

"A sneak," Trick asked dubiously. "Kenzi?"

"She was sneaking around looking at her presents," Dyson informed Trick.

"Kenzi," Trick asked.

"There was a mouse under the tree," she defended herself.

Trick crossed his arms in disbelief, "You were freaking out about rats a few days ago and I'm supposed to believe that you voluntarily went after a mouse."

"Yes," Kenzi crossed her own arms face firmly set in a glare.

"Can you watch her for a few hours while I run some errands," Dyson asked Trick.

Trick uncrossed his arms and headed back around the bar, "If you take the handcuffs off.

Dyson assented to that and slipped Kenzi a quick kiss while Trick wasn't looking. "Behave yourself."

"Behave yourself," she mocked, voice nasal. Dyson ignored her and headed to the door. "Snitch," she yelled after him.

Shoeless, Kenzi moved around the bar hopping from chair to chair despite Trick's admonitions. She was shortly joined by Tamsin and Bo who had been summoned via text. They weren't exactly bouncing around the bar quite like Kenzi, but they were having more fun than was strictly safe. They had decided to play alco-tag, in which each time you were caught or touched home base you had to take a shot.

Though the Dal was closed down for the gang's Christmas Eve celebration, Trick was certain that having the bar open would be less chaotic. "Daycare," he muttered darkly, "I run a daycare."

"Trick," Kenzi called as she spun across the bar top on her tiptoes, "this is what family is, fighting, wrecking shit, and making up over copious amounts of booze."

The older man sighed and turned away, heading to his storage room. "I miss being alone," he grumbled darkly.

"No you don't," all three girls called out sweetly.

"Oh thank god," Trick sighed in relief as Dyson entered the bar. "It's like they're high."

Dyson glanced around the bar and found that Trick's comment actually fit fairly well. Hale was running terrified from Tamsin while Bo was tossing and empty shot glass up and down. Kenzi, seemed to be the tamest of the group, she was only laying on the bar, hips grinding to a music only she could hear.

He patted trick's shoulder comfortingly before moving to drop a pair of Kenzi's heels on the bar by her head. At the sound, Kenzi's icy eyes snapped open and she pulled herself into a sitting position, legs bent before her. Without a word, Kenzi slid the velvet red heels on her feet, wiggling her bare toes in their new confines.

As she bent to take a closer look, Dyson couldn't help but frown, Kenzi had shed her sweater, a sweater which happened to have been covering up a great deal of soft skin that was now on display.

With one finger he traced just beneath the ribbons that kept the shirt tight against her stomach, "I think part of your shirt is missing."

"Is it," Kenzi asked innocently. "I hadn't noticed."

"Dinner," Trick called, "now that we're all here."

Dinner was a full affair of meats, breads, puddings, and the odd tart. Everyone ate with enthusiasm, Trick smiling fondly at his motley family. He had lived a long time alone, and as much as he complained, he wouldn't trade having his granddaughter, Kenzi, Dyson, Hale, and now Tamsin for anything.

After dinner had been cleared, Dyson slipped out of the room and returned with a bottle of very old, very fine whiskey which he set down before trick, mouth set into a serious line.

Trick glanced up at his old friend, "What's this for?"

"An offering so we can talk," Dyson glanced around the table at each of his friends.

Trick set his hands on the table, a frown falling into place, "What do we need to discuss?"

"I want permission to pursue Kenzi," Dyson answered shortly.

The girl in question choked on her glass of cider, "Say what?"

"I wasn't aware that you were in interested in Kenzi," Trick stared at the younger man. He was more than a little bowled over.

"I am," Dyson told his old friend and leader. "For some time."

Trick glanced around the table, eyes settling on each member of their pseudo-family for a moment. Hale, Tamsin, and Bo all looked slightly…bored. It was only Kenzi, who was still recovering from nearly choking on her drink, who looked shocked.

"Kenzi," Trick asked, "is this, has Dyson talked to you?"

Swallowing the mouthful of water, Kenzi shrugged, "Kind of?"

Trick frowned, "Why does it seem like the rest of you knew about this?"

"Because we did," Tamsin snorted. "It's like the most obvious thing in the world!"

"Girl's not wrong," Hale added.

"Bo," Trick asked cautiously.

"They've got so much chemistry I'm surprised they haven't started fires," Bo laughed nudging Kenzi lightly.

Trick sighed and cracked the seal on the whiskey, "Then I guess I have to give my consent, Dyson."

Dyson grinned and turned and kissed Kenzi soundly. "Thank you," he said as he pulled away.

"I can't believe I was the last to know," Trick sighed and began to pour out the whiskey, "To Kenzi and Dyson, and to family!"

"Here-here," Bo and Tamsin cheered loudly, both jostling to get the first glass of whiskey.

Kenzi's eyes were wide, "I kind of feel like I was the last to know."

"Sorry," Dyson apologized to her. From his inner pocket he pulled out a tiny silver ring and held it out to her, "A sign of my promise to care for you and protect you."

If it were possible, Kenzi's eyes went wider, "Yeah…"

"Relax, Kenz," Dyson frowned, setting the ring in her palm. "It's not that kind of ring."

Keniz scoffed, "Well good, 'cuz I am so not the marrying type." She didn't see Dyson roll his eyes, he knew her better than that. She inspected the thin silver ring, on the inside both of their names were etched, twined together by a heart. After a moment, Kenzi held it out to Dyson, extending her hand for him as well.

With a little laugh, Dyson slid it on her finger, "I now pronounce you off limits to everyone else, including Tamsin."

"Funny," Kenzi snorted, lacing her hand with his.

After a good deal of drinking and laughing, and a few presents being exchanged—most of them too raunchy to mention—Dyson excused them and took Kenzi home.

At the front door Kenzi paused, "Am I allowed in?"

"Yes," Dyson laughed as he unlocked the door, "those were decoy presents anyway."

"The hell," Kenzi exclaimed, "then why did I get handcuffed and kicked out?"

Dyson opened the door and urged Kenzi to walk in. The lights were off but the tree glowed brightly and beneath it was a stack of presents. Kenzi giggled and leaned back into Dyson, "Love you."

"I love you too, Kitten," Dyson held her closely. "I have one more present for you, Kenz."

He led her into the living room, pushing her to sit in the chair. Kenzi waited patiently, hands over her eyes in excitement.

"Open," he ordered.

Kenzi peeked through her fingers and quickly dropped her hands as she saw Dyson kneeling before her, holding his claymore stretched between his palms.

"I don't get it," Kenzi frowned.

"It's yours, Kenz," Dyson told her gravely. "Rings are a new tradition, for me…when I was young…a man would declare his intent by giving his sword to his woman. It means that I am pledging my sword to you, to protect you and do all I can to protect you with it."

"Dyson," Kenzi smiled softly hand tracing the heavy blade. It seemed, to the little human that Dyson's mere presence was wrapping around her, a veritable safety blanket.

"Repartee is something we think of twenty-four hours too late."
-Mark Twain

A/N: 24/25. One more chapter to go! I'm a little sad too, that tomorrow this will be over. I really do love writing these stories; they are a perfect holiday treat. I guess I'm just mourning the fact that Denzi is really only every going to be in my dreams…and in AUs where Bo is MIA. It is Christmas Eve, and I hope you all have a wonderful morning. Lots of Love!