-Dexter's Point of View-
Just as the knife plunged into Travis Marshall's chest, I heard a gasp behind me.
I turned, seeing Deb leaning against the doorway, her mouth agape with surprise.
"Oh, God," I barely heard my own voice in the moment.
My vision began to blur as my heart pounded beneath my chest. My dark passenger had been brought to the light in this abandoned church.
"Deb, I-"
"What the fucking fuck, Dex?!" She shrieked, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the other hand reaching for her gun.
I was at a loss for words; I couldn't string together a coherent or convincing sentence.
Deb slowly walked toward me on shaky legs, her lip trembling in time, the gun raised and pointed at me.
"I-I have to call this in," She nodded her head with resolve, pulling out her cellphone with her free hand, her gun lowering in the process.
I felt my ears heat up, "h-he came after me. I had to stop him," I stammered, hoping she'd buy this thrown together excuse.
She looked up at me, eyes wet with tears.
Her shaky fingers ceased her actions, putting her phone into her pocket, her gun going in the other pocket.
She nodded furiously, sniffling as she wiped her tears on the back of her hand
She examined the body, questions playing on her face.
"Why the plastic wrap? T-the apron? The gloves? The fucking knives?!" She paced back and forth, her hands running furiously through her hair.
I wet my lips, scraping my brain for answers to give her, answers to appease her. My worst nightmares had surfaced on this night of all nights.
"I-I found it in the storage, along with the apron and the gloves. I've examined countless crime scenes, I know what to do. The knives, however, belong to Travis," I finished, looking over at the corpse of Travis Marshall.
"Shit," she breathed out, her lips twitching into a sort of nervous smile.
I nodded, agreeing with her sentiment.
"Shit," I mimicked her.
"Well, I still have to call this in, Dexter. We've been looking for this guy for fucking months," she shook her hand, gulping down breath after breath.
I moved to touch her arm, looking into her eyes.
"How would this look, Deb? Travis Marshall's body in plastic wrap, me in my hazmat gear," I gestured to myself.
"Well, what the fuck do we do?" She slammed her arms down against her thighs.
I walked over to Travis' corpse, circling him before stopping by his side.
"We make it look like a suicide," I grabbed the knife from his chest, holding it above him before plunging it back into him at a different angle.
"He grabbed the sword, piercing himself with it on this table," I explained, looking over to her.
She nodded, "Okay, okay," she gulped once again.
I looked at her a moment before continuing, "We'll need to set fire to this church. We need to erase any trace that we were here," I nodded my head.
"Dex, I-"
"Deb, just trust me, okay? I've done this before," I made to pack up the supplies.
"I'll go grab some gas," she relayed, walking toward the exit.
"Okay, I'll clean everything up," I assured her.
Right before she left, I stopped her, "Deb, It's going to be okay. I promise," I half-smiled at her.
She nodded and let out an anxious laugh before turning to leave.
After Deb returned, we poured the gas around the lifeless body of Travis Marshall, along with the immediate, incriminating surrounding's.
I struck the match and threw it into the trail of gas.
We watched the flames flicker to life, engulfing all that it came in contact with.
I put my hand onto her forearm, causing her to look into my eyes.
"We need to go," I urged her, knowing the fire would spread quickly.
She nodded furiously, "Let's go get something to eat until they call us in," she nudged me.
"Sounds like a plan."
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I looked at Deb over my steaming mug of black coffee, watching her jerky movements as she devoured her toast.
She felt my eyes on her, looking up from her above her plate, chewing.
"What?" She mumbled with a mouth full of toasted bread.
I cleared my throat, shaking my, "nothing."
She swallowed her food and nodded, taking a sip of her orange juice.
Both of our phones let out a shrill ring. We looked at each other warily before going to answer our phones.
"Lieutenant Deborah Morgan," she said by way of greeting.
She listened intently, nodding as though they were in her presence.
I answered my phone, going through the motions, letting them know I'd be there.
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Deb hung up, looking to me.
"Let's go get this done," she sighed, tossing her money onto the table. I followed suit, nodding my head to the server.
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"This is definitely the body of Travis Marshall," Angel looked over the charred remains of the sadistic psychopath displayed before us.
I moved to the body, examining it.
"It looks as though he got on top of the platform, before stabbing himself with the sword like so," I gestured above him, mock impaling the corpse.
"One last tableau," Deb continued, inclining her head toward the body.
I nodded at her, "looks like it," I agreed.
Masuka made his way toward the body, hoping to check for any other traces.
I noticed a blood smeared piece of plastic wrap. How could I forget to check him for anything?
I nodded toward Deb, who caught my drift.
"Masuka, is it possible to stab yourself with a sword?" She questioned, giving me just the right amount of distraction.
I walked sideways toward the body, grabbing the plastic with my thumb and forefinger.
Once I pocketed the incriminating plastic, I nodded my thanks to her.
LaGuerta approached, her heels clacking against the floor of the church.
"Lieutenant, you're needed outside to make a statement. You've done a good job, this one's yours," she smiled, surprising both Deb and myself.
"There's still work that needs to be done in here," Deb nodded toward the body of Travis.
"We can handle it from here. You've earned this, Morgan," she patted her shoulder.
Deb nodded and looked at me before walking outside to give her statement to the curious ears of Miami.
I sighed and looked around me. Months of trying to save Travis, trying to snuff out his dark passenger. In the end, it turned out to be his dominating force. He was too far gone.
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I gathered my equipment up before shutting off my computer. I packed up and shut off the light, ready to get home to Harrison.
I made it home and opened my front door, seeing Jamie sitting with her invasive boyfriend, Louis.
"Is Harrison asleep?" I set my equipment down next to my desk.
"Yeah, he's out," she smiled as she stands, intertwining her hands with Louis'.
I move to my laptop and feel it radiating with heat. It's been on recently.
"Did you touch my computer?" I shift my gaze toward Louis, my eyes staring into his.
He looks taken aback before nodding, "yeah, sorry. I wish just checking some stuff."
"Do not touch my stuff. Ever," I warn him, my fist clenching at the side of me.
Jamie looks from Louis to me, worry evident in her eyes.
"It's not a big deal," he looks exasperated.
"Louis, you know better. I told you not to touch his things," Jamie, grabs his arm, her eyes showing her disapproval.
"Fine, whatever. Sorry," he sighed, moving to leave out of the door.
I watch him as he leaves, my eyes never losing their malice.
I shift my eyes back to Jamie, noticing her looking me up and down. She clears her throat.
"I'm real sorry about that, Dexter, I didn't know. It must have been while I was putting Harrison down," she informed me as she grabbed her purse from beside my couch, throwing it over her shoulder.
"Don't worry about it; it's not your fault. I appreciate you staying late again. You should get home," I hand her a wad of cash, her appreciation showing through as she looks up at me.
"Thanks, Dexter," she smiles and stand up on her tip toes, pecking me lightly on the cheek, her lips lingering a little longer than expected. Her hand accidentally brushed against my thigh.
Something odd stirs within me as I feel her soft, plump lips brushing against the stubble accompanying my cheek. I brush this feeling to the back of my mind, willing my nerves to calm down.
She walked toward the door, looking over her shoulder at me with a smile.
She waved goodbye before leaving out of the door.
I sigh and lock the door behind her, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
I noticed a straining against my pants. I look down, noticing, sure enough, that I'm hard.
This is wrong, so wrong. She's my son's babysitter. How very cliché. She's too young for me. 20s and 30s don't exactly mesh too well together.
I release myself from my inappropriate thoughts as I walk towards Harrison's room.
I peer in, seeing him sleeping soundly. I smile as I look at him. Harrison's the only thing in this world, other than Deb, that I care about. He means everything to me. He gives my life the balance that it needs. Without it, my dark passenger would consume all of me.
I walked in, my footsteps careful as I made my way across his carpet. I looked down at him a moment before laying a soft kiss on his cheek, careful not to wake him.
I left his room, leaving the door cracked. Always just in case.
I unbuttoned my shirt, letting his slide off my shoulders. I heard a knock at my door.
I threw my shirt in front of my bedroom door before returning to answer the front door.
Before me stood Deb, a cigarette slowly burning in her hand.
I cocked my eyebrow, knowing she'd given up the habit years ago.
She gave me a crooked smile before throwing the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her leather boot.
She shoves past me, smelling of cigarettes, without asking for my permission.
"I need a beer," she states, her voice gruff.
I nod and walk with her to my fridge. She grabs out a beer before handing one to me.
I salute my thanks to her, before twisting the top off of my own beer, gulping down the cool, tangy liquid.
She plops down on the couch, sighing as she pulls long swigs from the beer bottle.
I move to sit next to her. I notice her tense once my thigh brushes hers. I look up to her face, noticing her face redden as she looks at my chest.
I clear my throat and lay myself back against the couch, confused by her sudden shyness. Deb was never the shy one. That was my role.
Deb looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before setting her beer down on one of the coasters on my table.
She rested her elbows on her knees, her cheeks resting against each palm.
"This is crazy, Dex," she sighed closing her eyes.
I nodded to myself, wringing my hands together.
"It is. It had to be done, though," I reassured her, letting my hand gently massage her shoulder.
I heard her breathe hitch at the contact, surprising me further.
Deb chewed her lip before looking up to me.
"It was…" she trailed off, shaking her head.
I furrowed my brows, sitting up at attention.
"It was what?" I demanded.
She looked at me, sadness within her eyes, causing my heart to flop.
"The plastic wrap. That was just like Rudy, or, Brian," she shook her head, her eyes watering at the brim.
I didn't know what to say about the mention of the Ice Truck Killer, my half-brother, my own flesh and blood who I had slayed in place of Deb's life.
When I didn't speak she looked at me once more.
"It was identical to the way he wrapped me up. Identical," she emphasized the last word, breathing in and out in a fast pace, close to panting.
"Deb?" I asked as she stood, her feet unsteady.
When she didn't answer me, I stood, moving in front of her as I grabbed her shoulders, trying to force her to look at me.
"Deb?" I asked again as she began to hyperventilate, her eyes fluttering.
Before I could ask her what was wrong, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her body beginning to slump.
I grabbed her up into my arms as her body went completely slack.
I lifted her into my arms, bridal style, her head resting against my bare chest.
As I walked her into my room, I could feel her hair tickling against the exposed skin of my chest.
I sat her down onto my bed, before pulling out my cellphone to dial 911.
"I have someone here who has just fainted, I need someone here, as soon as possible, please," I'd never heard my voice as urgent as it now was.
I hung up and sat down next to her, the bed dipping underneath my added weight.
I brushed her long brown hair away from her face gently.
She looked so fragile, so vulnerable in this state. Deb would kill me if she knew I was thinking that. She always had a strong front put on, never letting anyone see her emotions. It had surprised me when I noticed tears welling in her eyes. It had me on edge, which surprised me even more. Often times, I felt like all emotion within me had never existed. I felt as though I was born with an empty blackness inside of me. I had accepted it, for the most part, thinking it was how I was meant to be.
The code my Dad had introduced me to had reinforced my ideas of being forever unfeeling. Pets weren't allowed in the house because I couldn't resist the temptation to rid them of life. It was something Deb struggled with multiple times throughout her life. My Dad had told her I was allergic, apparently, to pretty much every animal she had suggested: dogs, cats, ferrets, hamsters, and lizards. The only pet she was really allowed to have had been fish. Though unfair, it was the proper thing to be done. She'd be hurt more by discovering her lifeless pet than never having it to begin with.
I pushed aside my, once again, inappropriate thoughts. I didn't have the time to ponder on the past. I had to focus on the here and now of things.
My head whipped around when I heard the sound of approaching sirens. I rose and made my way toward my front door, opening the door for the paramedics to come in.
Deb was ushered out to the ambulance in a gurney. Seeing her like that made me feel sick to my stomach. I never wanted her to be hurt.
As they loaded her inside the back of the ambulance, I called Jamie, hoping she was still awake.
"Hello?" A chipper voice answered.
"Jamie, thank God. Deb passed out and the ambulance is taking her to the hospital right now. Can you come watch Harrison while I'm gone? He's still sleeping right now. I'm really sorry to do this to you," I sighed, hating putting her through this inconvenience.
"Oh, Dexter, is Deb okay? Of course I'll come!" She rushed everything out.
I couldn't help but sigh in relief, "I hope so, she just hyperventilated. I'll let you know as soon as I figure everything out myself," I assured her.
"Alright, I'll be there soon," she said before hanging up.
-Deb's Point of View-
My eyes fluttered open slowly, causing me to hiss as the bright, fluorescent lighting hit them.
I blinked my eyes furiously, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light.
I looked to my side and saw Dexter there, a look of concern on his face as he stood from the chair beside me.
"Deb, are you okay?" He asked, cupping my cheek in his hand.
"W-what happened?" I mumbled, looking around me. I felt light headed and my head throbbed.
"You hyperventilated and sort of passed out," he said as he stroked my cheek. I felt my face redden, not only at his statement but at his touch.
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry," I said, placing my hand over my face.
"Don't apologize. You couldn't help it," he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I nodded and looked anywhere but at him.
Since my therapist produced the idea that I was in love with Dexter, I had been thinking hard on it. I knew that Dexter was the only person in this world who I could completely trust. I knew I loved him; he was my brother. Well, not blood related, but adoptive at least. That made it all the more weird to consider that I had real, romantic, feelings for Dexter. I grew up with him, called him my brother. The thought made me squirm.
Dexter looked at me a moment.
"Sorry, these hospital sheets are chafing me," I lied, sitting up slightly, regretting it once I did so.
My head swirled and I had to close my eyes.
Dexter was there, placing his hand on the small of my back, helping me to adjust.
"Take it easy, I'll go get you an extra blanket," he looked into my eyes before pulling back the curtain and stepping outside to find someone.
I had never seen Dexter this worried or concerned, other than when Harrison was sick. Sure, I'd always known he cared for me, but he'd never really showed it this much before. It warmed me inside and out, making me smile without my control.
Everything about Dexter made me smile. The small, half smiles he rarely showcased, his quiet nature, his gentle way with Harrison, his gorgeous eyes and lips…Okay, time to stop the reminiscing.
Dexter returned with a bundle of blankets.
"Dex, I only needed one," I laughed as I sat up just a bit more.
"I want you to be comfortable," he said from above the blankets. I could barely even see his eyes.
He sat the blankets onto the chair before coming to help me up.
I stood on wobbling legs as he wrapped his arm tightly around my waist.
He grabbed the blankets with the other hand and spread them out, rather skillfully for a person with one hand available.
Once they were spread to his satisfaction, he helped me back in, covering me up.
"Better?" He asked me as I settled in, my butt situated comfortably against the soft fabric.
"Yeah, thanks," I smiled at him, resting my head back against my pillow.
We sat in silence for a moment before he scooted his chair closer to me.
He whispered, "you were saying something about how the way I had Travis set up was the way…Brian had you set up," he treaded over his words carefully.
I gulped, feeling my head begin to throb maddeningly
"Uh, yeah," I said softly, not looking at him. I wasn't exactly prepared for this right from the get go.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. His hands were wrenched together tightly as he stared down at them, deciding what to say next.
"After I saw that…It just stuck in my head. I knew that would help hide the evidence. I know it's a little calculating for someone who just snapped, but my forensic instincts kicked in. That's the only way I can explain it," he said, nodding his head, seemingly to himself.
I folded my weak arms across my chest, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill any minute. I wouldn't be weak.
"It's just fucking tough, you know? Witnessing something like that after you've been there yourself," I had the balls to look at him then, trying not to focus on the damn dry lump in my throat.
Dexter just nodded, slowly, his eyes burning with anxiety.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Deb. I didn't think you'd be there," he admitted, looking ashamed.
Before I could speak, he was again, "why were you there, Deb?" He cocked a questioning eyebrow.
"Fuck, I don't know! I was just checking the place out, trying to find Travis," I breathed out, closing my eyes.
Truth be told, I had no idea why I was there. Maybe I was just trying to be a hero, getting to Travis on my own. Maybe I was trying to prove myself, prove that I was worthy for the role of Lieutenant. If I could get Travis on my own, before anyone else could get there, there'd be no way to doubt me. My position of Lieutenant would never be questioned again.
"Alone? Don't you think that's little dangerous?" He asked.
"Maybe, but I was armed and I wasn't afraid. This fucker went on too long with his sick shit, someone had to end it," I raised my voice, without meaning to. My blood pressure was slowly rising, yet again.
"Okay, okay," he held his hands out in front of him, surrendering.
I sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. It's just been difficult with everything I've seen lately," I swallowed, a little more dramatically than I probably needed to. My throat was beyond dry.
"Let me go get you some water," he stood before I could protest. I wasn't even strong enough to at this point.
He returned a moment later, a white Styrofoam cup in his hands.
"Thanks," I nodded at him before receiving the cup from him.
I gulped the water down, relishing the feel of the cool liquid coating my throat.
I sat the empty cup down on the table next to me, letting myself rest back against the hospital pillow.
The curtain to my room was pulled back, revealing the doctor as she entered the room, a warm smile on her face.
"How are you feeling, Deborah?" She asked with a clipboard in her hand.
I shrugged, "fine, aside from feeling a bit weak," I admitted.
"Your vitals look just fine, we should be able to get you out of here within the next hour," she said as she looked me over.
"Great. I have work in the morning," I sighed.
She looked at me with her head tilted.
"I don't think it'd be such a good idea for you to attend work tomorrow. You need to rest," somehow I knew she'd say that. Shit.
I shook my head furiously, sitting up.
"No, really, I'm fine. I just need to rest," I assured her, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts any more than necessary.
"Deb, I think you should listen to her. Besides, I think a break would do you good," he nodded as he rested his hand over mine.
I looked down at where his skin pressed to mine, feeling myself heat up. This shit was getting real old, real fast.
I sighed, knowing I'd lose this argument two to one. Instead of pressing the issue, I just nodded.
"Good. Let me just get everything together and I'll bring you your discharge papers," she smiled before opening the curtain to leave.
After the doctor left, I attempted once again to stand. This time, I didn't almost fall over onto the bed.
"Where are my clothes?" I asked as I looked around the room.
"They're under the chair," Dexter informed me as he grabbed a plastic bag that held my clothes.
He tossed them onto the bed.
I took out my bra, underwear, khaki slacks, socks, white button up shirt, and my black blazer.
I looked at him as my hands went to untie my hospital gown. He got the hint and turned around.
I dressed hurriedly, feeling awkward even though Dexter was unable to see me.
"Alright," I said, signaling to him that it was safe to turn around.
He turned on his heels and smiled.
"There's the Deb I know," he grabbed my boots from under the chair, sitting them onto the bed.
I grabbed them and slid them on, lacing them up, "thanks."
He nodded before we turned our heads to the sound of the curtain opening.
"Looks like you can leave earlier than expected," the doctor smiled, paperwork in hand.
I nodded at her, my hands sliding into my front pockets.
"I prescribed you anti-anxiety medication and I provided you with a doctor's excuse for work," she explained to my surprised face.
"Anti-anxiety medication? This is the first time this has ever happened to me," I relayed to her, my eyes darting towards Dexter's. He looked just as confused as I did.
"Yes, but your job description comes with a lot of stress. Naturally, anxiety will come into play. We don't want a repeat of tonight's episode. This isn't something you'll have to take daily or permanently. Just take it when needed," She handed the paperwork over to me.
I relaxed my shoulders once she explained all of this to me.
"Well, they could come in handy," I admitted as I signed my discharge papers.
"Exactly. Now, make sure to rest and drink plenty of fluids," she stated as she escorted Dexter and I out of the room.
"I'll make sure she does," Dexter looked at her, a small, rare smile playing on his face. I felt the butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter.
I just smiled and nudged him playfully, thankful that I could maintain my balance while walking.
Once we made it outside and to Dexter's car, he opened it for me.
"Dex, I'm fine, really," I tried assuring him as I climbed up the step on his SUV.
"I'll be the judge of that," he said as he walked around the driver's side.
I rolled my eyes and buckled up, resting my head back for the millionth time tonight.
As we drove, we sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Dexter wasn't known for his long conversational skills.
Finally, he spoke.
"You should stay with me tonight so that I can watch you. You can have the bed and I'll take the couch," he kept his eyes fixed the road as he drove.
I sat and contemplated a moment. The idea of staying near Dexter made me shiver. I really needed to get a handle on this.
"Uh, yeah, sure," I nodded, looking out of the window.
I needed to find a way to get rid of these feelings. Hell, that's what my therapist was there for. It wouldn't look right to the general public, or my station for that matter, if I was in a romantic relationship with my adopted brother. No matter the non-blood relation.
Whenever I was near him, though, I felt happy, relaxed, even though I did pass out on him. That was my fault for working myself up.
"I'll take the couch, I wouldn't feel right stealing your bed, I feel fine," I looked to him, crossing my arms over my chest.
Dexter looked over at me for a split second before turning his attention back to the road.
"Deb-"he made to protest.
"No, no. I'm fine. That couch is comfortable enough. You've done enough for me," I patted his thigh, my hands immediately growing clammy.
I jerked my hand away and put it into my lap, surprised at myself for touching him.
Dexter shifted visibly, looking slightly uncomfortable.
I cocked and eyebrow and noticed him pull his shirt down as far as it would go.
Was he hiding a…no. Not possible. I dismissed the thought from my mind. I was the only dirty birdy around here.
When we made it Dexter's, he unlocked the door, walking in to find Jamie asleep with Harrison right next to her, his head resting on her arm.
I smiled, actually finding the site cute. Lord knows Jamie and I were never on the best of terms.
Dexter walked over, gently patting Jamie's shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, rubbing her eyes with her hands.
"Sorry, Harrison woke up and once I got him back to sleep, I couldn't keep me eyes open," she apologized.
"Don't worry about it. It's late and you did me a favor," he assured her as she stood, trying her best not to disturb little Harrison.
"Are you okay, Deb?" She asked as she put her purse on her shoulder, walking toward the door.
I nodded, clearing my throat, "yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I've just been a little stressed, I guess," I told her.
She nodded.
"Well, it's good to hear you're alright. I was worried," she turned the nob of the door.
"Goodnight guys," she smiled before leaving.
We said are goodbyes.
I walked over to Harrison and smiled down at him.
"It's crazy how much he looks like you," I watched the steady rise and fall of Harrison's little chest as he slept.
Dexter chuckled, "I always thought he looked like Rita," he said, a sudden look of sadness crossing his face.
I felt a pang, remembering how much Rita had helped Dexter. She seemed to really love him, and he loved her, from what I could tell. I couldn't say I was a big fan of Rita, but then again, I wasn't a fan of many people I came in contact with. But that was just me. Although, I suspected Dexter may have been the same way.
"I'm going to put him in bed," Dexter picked Harrison up gently, never once waking him with each step he took.
I plopped down onto the couch, untying my boots. I slid them off along with my socks and my blazer, feeling much more at ease. I eased back against the couch and pulled my feet up under me.
Dexter came back into the living room a few minutes later, walking into the kitchen.
"You want anything to eat?" He asked as he peered into his fridge.
I contemplated that a moment. My stomach answered me with an angry growl.
"From what my stomach's communicating to me, yes," I smiled as he chuckled.
"Alright. I got some left over lo mein and general tso's chicken we could share," he turned to look at me.
"Sounds good to me," I shrugged as he removed the take out boxes from the fridge.
He popped them in the microwave before walking out, two beers in hand.
"You read my mind," I sat up, taking the beer from him.
I twisted the top of and tossed the beer pack, sighing in relief as he made its way down my throat.
"At least I'll finish this one," I said, my eyes making it to the now warm and wasted beer still on his table.
"A warm beer isn't a finished beer," Dexter tilted his head toward me before tossing the beer back.
I smiled and nodded. I guess I could always put it in the fridge for the morning.
The microwave peeped, signaling that our food was all warmed up.
Dexter got up and I grabbed ahold of his forearm.
"Let me," I stood, pushing him back down.
He nodded, knowing he wouldn't win this one.
I walked into the kitchen and pulled the containers out. I grabbed some forks, since neither of us were too skilled with the ways of the chopsticks, and I walked back out to him.
"Thanks," he smiled as I set the containers onto the table.
"No problem," I dug into the chicken first, trying to hold back a moan of approval.
Apparently that didn't work, seeing as Dexter was looking at me above his fork that was loaded with lo mein.
"Sorry," I said with my mouth full, putting my hand over my mouth.
Dexter just laughed before popping his fork into his mouth.
After we finished our food, we both sighed in time, laughing at the sequence.
"Damn, I needed that," I rubbed my stomach, Dexter chuckling.
"I guess I did too. 'Nother beer?" He stood, grabbing the now empty take out boxes.
"You don't even have to ask," I smiled, tempted to pop my belt buckle to relieve the unbelievable pressure on my stomach.
Dexter returned with two, deliciously needed, cold beers.
I sat up and grabbed it from him, thanking him with a small smile.
I twisted the top off and chugged it, desperately wishing I could smoke a cigarette with it.
As though he was a mind reader, Dexter said, "Deb, what's with you smoking again?"
I sighed and looked down at my beer.
"I don't know. It helps me relax," I can admit that response was lame.
He scoffed and took a swig of his beer.
"What? It does," I shrugged.
"You won't be too relaxed when you cough up a lung," he pointed out, making me laugh.
"Oh please, tell me more, doctor," I joked, nudging him playfully with my arm.
Dexter laughed softly, shaking his head.
"Just promise you won't smoke too much?" His lips pressed against the beer, making me stare as they jutted out over the top.
I gulped and nodded, realizing he was asking me a question.
"Yeah, yeah. I just started up again tonight, believe it or not."
Dexter looked away, his expression one of guilt.
I immediately regretted saying that aloud.
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Countless beers later, Dexter and I were thoroughly inebriated.
"Do you remember that time Dad caught you sneaking out of the house right when he was pulling up to the house?" I laughed loudly, earning a throat, delicious chuckle from Dexter
"Yeah, I didn't take Dad's schedule into account very well," he tossed back the remnants of his two thousandth beer.
I sighed with laughter as I stood, effectively tripping over my boots, and landing directly on Dexter's lap.
"You okay there?" He asked, his hands landing on my hips, holding my steady.
"Shit, yeah, sorry," I covered my face with my hand, my cheeks flushing bright red.
Dexter looked at me a moment, a mixture of raw emotion playing on his face.
I stared into his eyes, unable to look away from him.
We both inched closer and closer to each other, our eyes full of wonder, and our lips just a centimeter away.
I moved back slightly, sending my earlier forgotten beer falling to the floor.
"Oh, shit, fuck!" I jumped up, grabbing the steadily dripping bottle.
"Sorry," I said, rushing to the laundry room where Dexter kept his towels.
Dexter stood, looking dazed as he licked his lips.
"Don't worry about it," he came to stand near me, reaching over me as he grabbed out a small blue towel.
He rushed back over to the spot, throwing the towel over the spot. He stomped on it a moment, trying his best to soak it up.
Still standing in the laundry room, I reached up to the shelf above me, grabbing the bottle of carpet cleaner.
When you have a toddler, one must be prepared, I suppose.
I made my way back over to the spot, removing the towel.
I sprayed the cleaner over the spot, saturating it.
Once completely saturated, I wiped the spot up, effectively ridding the carpet of an unwanted stain.
"Thanks," Dexter said, running his hands through his short, sandy hair.
"I'm the one that made the fucking mess," I remind him before standing, walking back into the laundry room to put the cleaner in its right spot, throwing the towel in the washer.
Dexter looked at the clock hanging on the wall.
"It's late. Rest would do us both some good," he said, beginning to clear the circle of beer bottles we left on the living room table.
"Yeah, you're probably right," I grabbed a few of the beer bottles, deciding to make myself more useful.
We clear the table in record time. I felt rather satisfied with our job.
"Let me grab you some blankets and pillows," Dexter walked to his hall closet, removing two fleece blankets and a big, beige, plush pillow.
He deposited the bundle on the couch.
"Thanks," I put my hands in my pockets, noticing I didn't have a change of clothes with me.
Dexter picked up on this, "I have a few old shirts and boxers you can wear," he gestured toward his bedroom.
"Thanks, I'd appreciate that," I sat down on the couch as he disappeared into his room.
He came back with a brown button down shirt and a pair of plaid brown and white boxers.
I grabbed the clothes from him, nodding my thanks.
"Alright, well, I'm gonna head to bed. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask."
"Alright. Night, Dex," I said.
"Night, Deb," he walked toward his room, the door shutting behind him.
-Dexter's Point of View-
Tonight had been…interesting to say the least.
Deb had passed out in my living room, reminding me of my brother's past transgressions, and got shitfaced drunk, falling into my lap.
Even more interesting was the fact that we had almost kissed.
Even more interesting than that was the fact that I wanted to kiss her. The thought of it actually excited me.
This was Deb we were talking about. My no nonsense, obscenity spewing sister.
I was beginning to think that maybe my dry streak was starting to get to me. There was only so much rubbing one out could do for a man. I did have other urges aside from killing the scum of Miami. I was human and a man after all.
Thankfully, Deb's drunken clumsiness served to break us out of our lustful trance. I don't know exactly how far things would've went if she hadn't knocked the beer over. We were both drunk, so I had to blame it on the alcohol. Cheap, I know.
I noticed a strip of light streaming in through my door, letting me know my door wasn't completely shut.
I stood walking over to the door, stopping as I saw Deb stripping off her pants.
"I shouldn't be watching this. This is my sister. Christ," I thought to myself, but I couldn't look away.
Her slacks slid down her lean, smooth thighs.
I gulped as she reached for her underwear tugging them down effectively.
I'd never seen Deb naked before, even by accident.
I felt myself harden against my jeans. I bit my lip and looked down, deciding it was time to release some tension.
I unzipped my pants, pulling myself out from my boxers.
I let my fist wrap around my painfully, shamefully, hard cock as I watched her unbutton her white shirt, letting it fall down her small shoulders.
When she unclasped her bra and let it slide down her arms, I nearly came right then and there. She was facing me now, her eyes down cast as she put her clothes neatly in a pile.
Her breasts were small, yet perky and round, her nipples hard from the air hitting them so suddenly.
Her stomach was toned and flat, leading down to her perfectly shaved flower.
She was perfect there in my living room, her soft, shiny, silky hair hanging over her face and neck as she bent down to grab my clothes I'd provided for her.
I sped up my actions, feeling myself getting closer and closer to my destination.
"Dex?" She called.
Oh, shit.
I put myself back into my boxers, too late as I came in long, hot spurts.
I bit my lip, trying to prevent the moans and groans that were begging to come out of my mouth.
I panicked and threw myself onto the bed.
"Yeah?" I asked, sitting up on my bed and she pushed the door open. She was faster at dressing than undressing, I see.
"Sorry. Is it possible to turn the A.C. down? I'm freezing," she leaned against my doorframe.
"Oh, yeah that's fine," I tried the nonchalant act, though I could feel my seed trailing down my thighs.
She looked at me suspiciously.
"You okay? You sound out of breathe," she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I just rushed from the bathroom. I didn't want you to catch me peeing," I lied, causing her to laugh.
"Alright, night," she walked out, closing my door completely behind her.
I groaned and sat up, stripping my jeans off along with my boxers. This was definitely something that needed to be cleaned up.
I stripped myself of my shirt, adding it to the pile with my boxers and jeans.
I walked into the bathroom, the cool tile that came in contact with my feet giving me goose bumps.
Shit, no towels.
I sighed and walked back into my room, putting my sticky boxers and pants back on.
When I walked into the living room, Deb was still awake, her head resting on the pillow.
"What's up?" She propped her elbow up, resting her head on her hand.
"I needed a shower and forgot a towel," I walked toward the laundry room, grabbing a towel from the top shelf.
"Ah, I need a shower too. I'm too lazy. I'll take one in the morning," she yawned, resting her head back down against the pillow.
"Sounds reasonable," I walked back toward my bedroom.
"Dex? What's on your pants?" She asked, pointing toward a large, wet spot on my pants.
Great.
"When I rushed to get done with my pee, I got a little on me," I lied, figuring both options were equally gross, though one was less creepy.
"Gross," she crinkled her nose with a giggle.
"Happens," I shrugged, chuckling.
I got into my room and shut the door behind me.
I set the towel onto the bed, eagerly kicking my bottoms off. I was too sticky for my own good and it was becoming unbearably disgusting and cold at this point.
I grabbed my towel, walking toward my bathroom once again.
I turned on the light before hanging the towel over the railing of the shower.
I turned the water on, waiting until the temperature was perfect before hopping in.
I scrubbed myself for all I was worth; trying to rid myself of tonight's many disasters.
What was this sudden infatuation with Deb? I'd never viewed her with a sexual lens before and it was worrying me.
I felt ridiculously creepy for jacking off while watching her change. She'd be mortified if she knew.
But she was just so…perfect. I'd never noticed how beautiful she was. She wasn't conventionally pretty, but there was something about her. Something about the way her lips curled when she smiled, the way her eyes sparkled, the way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she felt awkward.
I could feel myself hardening again. Why was up with my libido lately? I cursed myself and tried to steer my thoughts away from my…Deb. Calling Deb my 'sister' after all of this just seemed way too weird.
I finished up the intense scrubbing of my body, figuring I was thoroughly peeled of my first layer of skin.
I turned the shower off and grabbed my towel, wrapping it snugly around my body.
I padded over the tile, looking myself in the mirror.
I sighed, opening up my medicine cabinet to grab my toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss.
I set to work, always meticulous with my dental routine.
Once I finished, I turned the light off in my bathroom, walking over to my dresser.
I dropped my towel and pulled out a pair of red and white plaid boxers.
I slipped on my boxers, walking over to my bed.
I turned the sheet and comforter down, sliding in.
I covered myself up and stared at my ceiling with my hands behind my head, interlacing my fingers.
I needed a way to get her out of my mind. That would prove difficult, considering she was my family and I saw her every day. She was lieutenant after all.
I let my thumbs make circles around each other as I continued my staring contest with my ceiling, knowing it would win no matter what.
I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes.
If I believed in God, I'd pray to him, asking him to forgive me for my sins, to help me find my way in this world. I needed to keep my true self hidden away from Deb; she couldn't know what I was. She was never to know of my dark passenger. He was all mine to carry. She would be crushed if she knew just how many lives I'd snuffed out in my time on this Earth. She'd be even more crushed if she knew that I had no remorse for any of them. They were evil. All of them deserved the fate I gave to them. In a way, I was my own God, bringing down swift justice to those who deserved it.
Regardless of that fact, I couldn't very well tell Deb that and expect her to nod her head in understanding. At the very least, she'd send me to a mental ward. I thought about just how much I'd lose if I were caught: my job, my sister, Harrison, everything. Everyone would see me for what I truly was. I couldn't let my son know that about his Father. I was supposed to be his role model. I needed to make Harrison proud. I needed to be there for Harrison, he needed his Father in his life, especially since he no longer had his mother. He was born in her blood, just like I had been born in my Mother's.
I hoped Harrison wouldn't turn out the way I did. I wouldn't allow it. I'd do everything it took to prevent him from developing the darkness that permanently resided within me. The code my Father taught me helped me keep my darkness at bay, but I'd never teach Harrison. I wouldn't let it grow to that point. He deserved a normal life with normal friends, normal love, and a normal career. He didn't need to be Daddy's double.
I was determined to keep my killings discrete, I, now more than ever, couldn't afford to be caught. Especially sense Deb had caught me once already. I had become too cocky, too comfortable. I had slipped up and disappointed my Father.
"You haven't disappointed me, Dexter," I heard from the edge of my bed.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
"She saw me," I told my Father.
"Yes, once. She's hurt, but she'll get over it. You can't expect her to forget this overnight. Give her time, that's all she needs," he looked at me with a gentle look in his eyes.
"I feel like she knows more than I give her credit for," I relayed, sitting back against my headboard.
My Father looked away, looking as though he was in deep thought.
"Just crack down, son. Be careful; erase any footprints that may trail her to you. You've done it before, you can do it again," with that he was gone.
I slid down my headboard, laying my head on my pillow.
I quickly realized the prospect of sleep tonight was far out of my reach.
All I good hope for tonight was a whirlwind of thoughts, longing, anger…
Let's hope that'd be enough.
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I was jolted out of my sleep the next morning, the sound of thrown objects startling me.
I jumped out of bed, my sheet and comforter strewn every which way.
I opened my door, shocked at the sight in front of me.
There was Deb, standing in the middle of the wreckage that was now my living room.
My lamp was broken against the wall, my couch cushions were on the floor, my laptop was lying sideways beside my desk…and my air conditioner was open.
I felt my hands grow clammy.
My box that included my blood slides were strewn everywhere; half of them broken, half of them across my table and the room.
She had my kit of knives rolled open on my living room table.
I stared at her, her eyes wild with emotion; anger, hurt, disappointment…and love?
I felt my mouth open, but I couldn't form words.
After a moment she spoke, "did you kill all of these people?"
I couldn't stop myself, "I did."
Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes glassy, darting from side to side before settling on my face once again.
"Are you a serial killer?"
Once again, I couldn't stop the answer from tumbling past my lips.
"Yes."