Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: Happy Valentine's Day to my beloved Drew!!! <3
Fandom: Lost Girl
Character/Pairing: Dyson/Bo, Kenzi, Trick
Word Count: 1,332
Date Written: 12 February 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to SyFy, not the author, and are used without permission.
Bo all but crawls to the bar and slumps down onto her usual stool. She hears the sound of Trick pouring their drinks and can hear the smile in his warm voice as he greets them, “Happy -- “
“I swear to God, Trick, if the next word out of your mouth has anything to do with valentines, hearts, or love in any way, I’m going to slap you silly!” She ends her exclamation with a growl but is too weary to lift her head back up to face him. It seems like they’ve spent the last forty-eight hours fixing nearly every couple in the city before they could do some serious harm. There have been those who have nearly killed their lovers and who have come too close to killing themselves. There have been those who robbed, taking whatever they chose, and simply ran through the city, killing mortals and destroying property without heed. And all this because a single Dark Cupid decided to do on a spree through their city. If she hears the word “valentine”, “heart”, “love”, or even “soul mate” one more time tonight, she is seriously going to punch somebody.
She feels Kenzi pat her arm and hears her ask, “You’re usually not into all this mushy stuff, Trickster. Why the change?”
“It’s good for business,” the Dwarf answers with a roll of his shoulders. “Besides, I’ve got a new appreciation for it after we’ve seen what both sides of the Fae community can be like without love.”
“Who knew there was an actual freaking Cupid any way,” Bo grumbles, “let alone a hundred of them and not one flying baby in a diaper?”
“Well, you know Eros -- “ Kenzi starts to remind her.
“This so wasn’t Eros, Kenz. You know that. But it does stand to question: Just how many freaking Cupids are there out in this world?”
“As many as are needed,” Trick informs her in his deep yet gentle voice. He pours another drink, and Bo hears Kenzi down this one before he fills it for a third time.
“You really think they’re needed?” she mumbles, not lifting her face from the bar.
“I know they are, Bo, and I would hope so do you after the last forty eight hours.”
“Hey, we patched every one of those couples back up, dude, without the help of any Cupid, thank you very much!”
“And it damn sure wasn’t easy,” Bo grumbles.
“No. Love never is. But it is worth it. How many lives have you saved while fixing all these couples?” he asks the girls.
“I guess it is pretty obvious that love’s important, Trickster, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy to deal with.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is, Kenzi.”
“Will you just shut it and leave the love talk alone? I told you I didn’t want to hear any more about it.”
Kenzi strokes Bo’s back again.
“Very well,” Trick says, pouring another drink, “but you did have a visitor earlier this evening.”
Bo feels Kenzi become agitated next to her, but by the time she lifts her exhausted head to look inquisitively at Trick, he’s already moved further down the bar. Instead of the little, ancient man who has become such a dear and important friend to them, Bo finds her eyes resting instead on a small, stuffed wolf. The plushie sits beside her favorite drink, but she doesn’t pay the alcohol any attention as she actually squeals with surprise and delight. Jumping up in her seat, Bo grabs the plush wolf and looks excitedly at Kenzi. “He’s been here! He’s been here!”
“He still loves you, girl!” Kenzi says, punching her arm playfully. “I told you not to give up on the Wolf Man!”
“I just don’t know why he has to go messing around,” Bo grumbles.
“He’s not messing around, Bo! He’s not screwing anybody else! You’re the only one he wants!”
“I know, but -- “
“But it’s hard,” Kenzi finishes for her, draping an arm around her lithe shoulders. “You miss him. So do I, and I’m not even his girlfriend. But look at that wolf, girl! He’s still got a serious jonesing for you!”
“It’s definitely from him, isn’t it?” Bo wonders aloud, turning the wolf around in her hands. The small, plush wolf is mostly gray, but there are a few spots of brown on him. Dyson is a brunette after all.
“Duh! Who else would leave you a little wolfie?!”
“Kenz -- Wait a minute,” Bo murmurs, turning the wolf around again so that the light hits his collar.
Kenzi’s eyes bug. “That’s no collar!”
Carefully, Bo slips the diamond bracelet off of the wolf’s neck and puts it on her own wrist. Catching a familiar scent, she presses her nose to the plushie and breathes Dyson’s cologne deeply. She sighs, her arms drifted closed with both dreams and memories. This valentine is definitely from her very own wolf!
Suddenly, she senses somebody watching her. She whirls around on her stool, and across the distance of the bar, her eyes fix with Dyson’s. His eyes are glowing yellow in the dark shadows at the back of the bar, but he’s looking right at her. She starts to move. He presses his lips together and then parts them as though blowing a kiss. She quickens her pace, but someone walks in front of her, forcing her to pause. When the pathway clears again, Dyson’s gone.
Kenzi’s hand is on her shoulder. “Kenz -- “
“You could go after him,” Kenzi gently tells her.
“Yeah,” Bo agrees, “but he asks for time. He said there were things he’s got to fix.” Clutching the small wolf in her hands, Bo slowly nods. “And I’ve got to give him time to fix it, whatever it is.”
“Whatever it is,” Kenzi tells her, wrapping her arms around her best friend in a hug, “it won’t matter in the end, because nothing’s going to keep him away from you for long.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right! He couldn’t even stay away from you for one Valentine’s night! He’s going to come home, Bo, and you’re his home.” She hugs her but doesn’t voice the thought that Bo has also become her home. Being at her side is the one place in all the world where she always feels comfortable, safe, and as though she actually belongs.
Bo turns in her arms and hugs her back. “You’re right,” she says not because she truly believes her but because she has to be right. She can’t bear the thought of living forever without having Dyson in her life. Kenzi may be right. He may be jonesing for her, but she is equally as hooked on him.
“He’ll come home,” Kenzi says again almost as though she’s vowing that it will happen as she’s decreed. She hugs her again as she walks her back to the bar. “You’ll see.”
Reaching the bar, Bo lifts her glass and downs her favorite drink, but she still doesn’t let go of the little, plush wolf. Trick watches her carefully and concernedly. “He asked me to tell you he will come home.”
Bo knows better than to ask him when. Trick knows no more than she herself does about when their favorite wolf will actually return, but he will come home. He has to come home to her. The other -- his failure to come home, their failure to get together again -- can not even be a possibility.
Trick pours the friends their favorite drinks again. Raising his own glass to them, he tells them, “Happy Valentine’s, girls.”
Bo nods, clinks her glass against theirs, and wordlessly downs her drink. Her mind is on Dyson, and soon she’s daydreaming of all she’s going to do to him when he does come home to her where he belongs.
Kenzi smiles at the Dwarf who cares almost as much for her best friend as she does. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Trickster,” she tells him and drinks her free wine.