Howl
Fandom: Lost Girl
Pairing: Dyson/Hale
Rating: T
Summary: That post-battle adrenaline needs to be worked off somehow.
Notes: I wanted Dyson to apologize to Hale after his behavior in season 2. And "apologize."
They beat the Garuda and no one died-permanently, anyway-during the final battle. All things considered, Hale was willing to call that a win.
People were still drifting around the Dal in the aftermath, taking stock of themselves. Bo had gone after Kenzi, and Hale hoped the human would confess to whatever was bothering her, whether it was that rash on her arm or something else. He was fond of her-probably too fond-and it was just as well that she'd moved out of his radius before something unseemly happened.
Dyson glanced over his way and seemed to hesitate. Hale really wasn't in the mood to coddle wolfly moodiness, so he threw back a shot from the bottle that Trick was pouring out freely and took the initiative, walking over to where Dyson was leaning against the bar. Posing, Hale might have thought in less-complicated times. "We're good, right?"
"Yeah." Dyson smiled, a little sheepishly. Ironic, that. "I'm sorry I bugged out on you."
"Not just me," Hale said quickly.
Dyson read him anyway. "You're my partner. I should've-" he glanced away. "I should've done a lot of things differently."
Ciara, his body language sang. And Bo. Hale heard the mournful notes of grief and loss, written across Dyson's spare frame. "You came back. That's what counts."
"Glad to hear you say that." Dyson regarded him steadily. "Listen, about your sister-"
Hale flapped a hand. "Bygones." He made a decision, eyed his partner from under the brim of his hat. "You want to make it up to me, though..."
Dyson laughed, the first honest sound Hale had heard out of him in weeks. "Been awhile. Didn't think you were still interested."
He tried to cover his discomfort with a shrug. "Battle fever, you know, makes a body itchy."
"So you think I make a good scratching post?" Dyson mocked, but his voice held a warmth Hale thought lost. That warmth gathered, pooled low in his stomach, sent his eyes darting toward the door.
"My place?"
"We'll take my bike," Dyson said, already on the move. Hale grinned to himself-clearly, he wasn't the only one feeling the fight's aftereffects.
He remembered the feel of Dyson's clever hands and hurried to catch up.