The Ways We Fall
Chapter One: Sight
For once Dyson had stayed in. He'd tried to have a lie-in, but found himself in the nebulas place between waking and sleeping: drifting. Vague sounds from below floated up into his loft, people going about their day, lending a dusting of surreal to the hazy meandering of his thoughts.
It seemed things had been draining for eternity, but in reality it'd probably only been a month. Bo was cross over a slight so insignificant he couldn't recall exactly what had spurred the tiff, only that he was fairly certain he hadn't done it. Whatever it was. Yet in her warped logic, she still deemed it acceptable to ask for his help, meaning he saw her just long enough to get her off or pass her the needed information. Then she was off huffing and running. Work had been a tidal wave: case after case, a half dozen Fae-related and another twelve simply human homicides. Trick seemed to have a never-ending series of errands for him to run related to some secret or other. The last straw was Hale, the one whom he could usually count on for a bit of levity, who had gotten caught-up in some family squabble, which always left him preoccupied and moody.
Today—he couldn't help a small smile as he stretches. Today, however, was his day off. Dyson had decided to stay-in and get some rest. Having decided this, of course, meant that around—he sighed glancing at the clock—10 a.m. he got a knock on his door.
He thought it was Bo, needing a fix. Too bad for her he was too damn exhausted to bother, he mustered a harrumph and buried his head under the duvet to drown out the tat-tat-tat on the door. Effectively ignoring the next set of knocks, he shut his eyes.
"Look, Dyson, it's Kenzi…" His ears perked up at the sound of her voice, there was an unusual hesitation in it, "Could I, could I talk to you? Please?" The sheer anomaly of hearing his name from her mouth would have motivated him to answer, add in the faltering speech and he was at the door in moments.
He opened the door and was dumbstruck. Kenzi—leather, steel, and kohl Kenzi—was decidedly un-Kenzi. Her hair was a riot of untamed curls, her face bare: not gloss for her lips or kohl rimming her clear blue eyes. She dressed in a simple off the shoulder sweater and plain blue jeans. Strangest of all—her feet were sans heels, she was wearing ballerina flats. It seemed improbable, but he had somehow managed to miss how small she was. Now, that reality was nearly a blow to his chest.
"Hey," she said, giving a small smile and a little wave.
"Hey," he echoed hollowly, stepping aside. His eyes fixed on the tiny figure. She wandered into his space, looking around before turning back to him. He shut the door and gestured to the kitchen area.
"Want something to drink?"
They moved parallel to each other, and while he tried not to, his eyes tracked her every movement. He stuck his head in the fridge breaking the connection, "I have beer, orange juice, or water."
"OJ's fine." She tucked a curl behind her ear. He busied himself for a minute, juice for her, water for him, and finally settled across the counter from her.
"So, what do you need?" She blushed, to his surprise.
"I tried to talk to Bo about it, but I don't think she gets it. I SO was not going to talk to Trick 'cause just, just, no. I thought of Hale, but even if he wasn't up to his eyeballs in family drama I don't think he'd take me seriously. And I know you'll listen and at least try to get it," she rambled gesturing animatedly in her nervous stream of narrative. "And honestly if it had just gone away I wouldn't even have talked to Bo, but it's been like three weeks and I don't know what to do." Her eyes were wide and she was panting having said it all with one breathe, desperately looking at him as if he could magically divine both her problem and the answer from her glance.
"Kenz, I'd love to help, but first you have to tell me what's wrong." He pointed out, logically, thoughtfully, like the detective he was. She squirmed in her seat; cheeks flushed, and eyes flitting to anywhere but him. Then she mumbled so low not even his superior hearing could decipher it.
He sighed and made a show of settling in to wait. Clearly, she had a problem, one that she couldn't fix, and she'd narrowed down her options to him—though he was amused to note Lauren didn't even make her list. Moreover, she'd come this far despite her obvious embarrassment and so he figured it wouldn't take too long for her to break.
Besides, he had all day. There was far worse company he could keep.
Perhaps he should be annoyed that she came to him after he'd decided he simply wasn't going to deal with anything today. But if he was honest, Kenzi had only ever asked him for anything the once, when she was dying from Basilisk poison, and then only for his company. Compared to even Hale, Kenzi asked the least of him. Thus, he knew she wouldn't have come knocking on his door unless first, she truly felt he could help her, and second, there wasn't another viable option.
So he waited.
"I can't—" she started. "I can't—look, I can't."
He blinked as he watched the flush deepen as she wrestled for words.
"I can't get off!" She blurted out, quickly clapping her hands over her mouth.
It took a moment for her words to register, even as he watched her turn scarlet and bury her head in her hands.
"So, you're telling me you haven't been able to have an orgasm for—a month?"
"I mean, it's not like I'm getting any—what with Succu-bunny—so it's been self-help for the Kenz for a while. But the last three weeks it's been exasperating. I get so close, right to the edge, I can taste it and then it just, it just doesn't. I really thought I would have found a way to deal, but with Bo's ever present sex-capades, and even Hale only wants to talk about his latest conquest. And then everywhere, everywhere I turn there seems to be something—" he watched as she fisted a hand in her hair, her eyes wide and slightly vacant, "and I'm so hot, I just—I can't take it." Her pupils dilated, her breathing was rapid and shallow, and he noticed her hand was shaking.
He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. He couldn't even imagine the type of strain she was under, not to mention he was certain—partner or not—Kenzi was rather active on that front. The fact she'd been denied for three weeks—that didn't sound healthy.
He moved around the bar, once more struck by the sight of her—vulnerable Kenzi. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, "Hey, I'll think of something, Kenz. That really can't be good for you."
Exactly how he was going to help the small woman… Well, he would just have to figure it out.