Finally getting around to my Ryker/Dagur fic.
As Dagur also rose and turned to leave, Ryker found himself becoming agitated. The Berserker had been little but a pain in his backside since he joined the hunters, and yet…every time the idiot put himself in danger, Ryker was overcome not with annoyance, (or rather, not just with annoyance) but with a surprising amount of concern. He was struck not only by the possibility of losing a good fighter, but by something much more visceral…fear. On the most recent excursion, Dagur had nearly been set ablaze after taunting an ornery Monstrous Nightmare. Unable to stop himself, Ryker yelled out his name with much more panic in his voice than he anticipated. He’d had to grab Dagur and pull him back to avoid incineration. Heather managed to scare the beast away before it could make a second attack, but Ryker stood with his arms around Dagur for several moments longer than necessary, panting and frozen from shock and anger. And of course after the little shit got over the initial terror of being nearly roasted alive, he had to go and make some stupid comment about the situation.
Dagur squirmed about, rubbing his body against Ryker’s. “Huh…something’s sticking into my back. Is that a knife in your pocket, Rykie, or are you just happy to—whoa!”
Ryker had shoved him away so suddenly, the Berserker nearly fell to the ground.
“Next time you pull a stunt like that, I’ll let the dragon have you!”
Dagur scowled in response as he stumbled to his feet, but upon noticing the flush in Ryker’s cheeks, he went into a fit of giggling. Gods, he was such a little bastard!
Ryker did what he could to keep Dagur at arm’s length. The man was reckless, irritating, and worst of all: unpredictable. One moment, he was sly and even cunning, the next moment he was absolutely brainless. Constantly making sure he wasn’t eaten, burned, drowned, crushed, or otherwise gruesomely killed was exhausting. It often felt like babysitting.