A/N: Messing with the timeline a little here, because isn't that half the fun? So this is vaguely set some time after Rita's death when Deb would have been sleeping with Quinn and Dexter would have met Lumen, but I'm just going to ignore all that. Also, if Debster or the idea that Deb slept with Quinn in Rita and Dexter's house right after mopping up her blood makes you ick, this might not be for you. My intention was non-angsty PWP, but I think I failed miserably.

It had started innocently enough. Rita's death was still fresh and painful and Astor and Cody's departure just cut the wound deeper. Deb felt she was losing family nearly as much as she imagined Dexter must feel. And she was worried about him, especially after his reaction those first few days. The way he had taken off and shown up so late to the funeral had frightened her.

Deb wasn't used to this side of Dexter. When their parents had died he had been calm and stoic. The closest version of this Dexter she had seen was right after he found out Rita was pregnant. And even then she knew he would come through. With Rita's death though, she had actually doubted him for the first time in their lives. Not that he was guilty of anything, but whether he would be able to be the man she was so sure she knew him to be.

But the worst of it had seemed to pass and now Dexter was just…adrift. He seemed hollow somehow. As if Rita's death had stripped him of some ability to react and cope. It would even out, she was sure. The FBI was gone, Dexter was back in the old apartment, this too would pass.

She got home late that night, the apartment dark and quiet to her relief. Deb moved to the fridge, reaching inside, twisting off the cap from a beer bottle and taking a big gulp with the fridge door still open. She closed her eyes momentarily as the alcohol seemed to immediately wash over her senses. When she opened her eyes again she gasped.

Dexter wasn't in the bedroom, but on the couch instead. Sitting ram rod straight, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness. Deb's heart hammered and she wondered briefly why her brother looked so unnatural. "Dex?" He didn't respond. She put down her beer, shut the fridge door, moved closer to the couch.

"Dex. You're scaring me." He turned his head slowly towards her, but didn't blink. The movement disturbed her deeply. Then suddenly something snapped into place. He blinked at her once, twice and his whole demeanor relaxed. Deb let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"What's going on?" Deb took another step forward, peering through the darkness at her brother.

He shook his head as if trying to dislodge something. "Couldn't sleep." Dexter rose from the couch slowly, stepping towards Deb. He paused in front of her and even in the darkness Deb could see how lost he was. With nothing else to offer, she wrapped her arms around him. Dexter clung to her, that same desperation as when he asked her to take care of Harrison. His fingers dug into her back, then slid across, so that it seemed he had enveloped her completely.

In the dark, time seemed irrelevant. And so they held on longer than what might seem normal. It wasn't until Deb registered Dexter's warm breath on her neck that she began to pull away. The darkness added a level of intimacy that Deb found vaguely unnerving.

But even as she pulled away Dexter moved with her, so their bodies stayed entwined. Deb pulled away once more and this time managed to create enough space so that while Dexter's arms still surrounded her, they were now face to face.

Something twisted low in her belly and Deb struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Dex?" but her voice cracked over his name.

And suddenly his lips were pressed firmly to her own. She waited a beat longer than she should have, but she finally shoved him away, forcefully enough that they disentangled.

She heard the shallow breathing, but wasn't sure where it came from. "What the fuck?!" What was meant to come out as a shout was barely a whisper, her voice doubtful instead of angry.

Dexter for his part seemed nearly as surprised and rendered mute in his astonishment. Neither moved, their eyes searching over the other, both questioning what had just occurred. Dexter reached some sort of conclusion first. In two strides he closed the gap, his hands cupping her face and his lips connecting with hers once more.

Deb froze. The first time could be written off as anything. But this was intentional. And this was wrong. She needed to stop this. Needed to bring him to his senses. But his nearness, the feel of his lips was overwhelming. And wasn't this what she had always desired? To be close with him? To have him reach out to her?

Her mind screamed an answer to these traitorous questions. No way in fuck! But her body was singing a different tune, something that sounded more like Fuck Yes! And so her hands were crawling up his chest, fingernails digging into his muscles. And her mouth was opening beneath his, their tongues sliding together.

And when her mind continued to launch protests, she shut those thoughts behind a door, locked it and got rid of the key. Because as wrong as she knew this was, it was so right. So un-fucking-believably right that how had this not already happened? And no one has to know. And it never has to happen again. And tomorrow they can both pretend that this was not real. But right now, she needed him in a way she had never acknowledged before.

And for once in her whole fucked up life, he needed her too. She could feel his need pressed against her hip. But even more than that, she could feel it in his fingers as they slid against her neck and his jagged breath as he bit her bottom lip.

Deb was suddenly very aware of the crib sitting just a few feet away. Of the tiny sleeping boy inside who had just lost his mother. It was almost too much. It was almost enough to make her stop. But then Dexter was already pushing her into the bedroom. He was already undoing the buttons on her shirt, opening her belt, unzipping her jeans. And how the fuck was this happening so quickly? How the fuck was Dexter able to take their entire lives as brother and sister and so easily ignore it?

But then his hand was sliding over her breast and those thoughts were forgotten as she moaned low into his mouth. And then her hands were pushing his shirt up and off his body. Their mouths pulling apart long enough to get rid of the unnecessary clothes. As their mouths rejoined, Dexter tugged off her jeans and panties. Suddenly she was on her back on the bed, Dexter hovering over her as he pulled off her boots and the remainder of her clothing.

She didn't have time to think about the fact that she was fully naked, about to do this with her brother. He was naked and back on top of her quickly, lips finding her neck and his tongue gliding across her skin. And he was groaning, almost growling, the sound emanating from deep in his throat and reverberating across her body, sending shivers all the way down. That sound made her feel possessed by him, the thought making her wet.

She gasped as his hand moved down over her belly, swept across her hip, then landed between her legs. His fingers explored and then slid into her, first one and then another. His thumb worked her as if he knew just what she needed. And fuck, it felt so good. His mouth had found a nipple, and she let out a strangled cry.

She tugged on Dexter's hair, pulling him back up to her so she could kiss him again. All doubts and arguments gone, she held onto him, wrapped her long legs around his hips.

He pulled back and their eyes locked as he slid into her slowly. And this was no longer Dexter, her lab geek older brother. This was a man who knew her better than she knew herself. This was someone who had seen her through every up and down of her life. Someone who she loved very differently than you should love your brother.

Deb bit down on her lip to stop herself from saying any of this. Because this would not, could not happen again. And as their bodies rocked together she pushed all these thoughts aside and focused on how her body was coming alive under his touch.

She arched into him and cried out as she went over the edge, Dexter tumbling along after her. His body collapsed onto hers and they stayed wrapped together as their breathing slowed and evened out. Eventually Dexter rolled off to her side, and they lay next to each other, not touching, staring up at the ceiling. Deb thanked whatever god was listening that the room was so dark.

After several minutes of silence she finally got up, opened a drawer, pulled out some shorts and a shirt and headed for a shower. By the time she got out, Dexter was no longer on the bed. The covers had been tidied, their clothes in the laundry hamper. It was as if the whole thing had never happened.

She dropped into bed and fell quickly into a deep sleep. She woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, dishes and pans banging, Harrison cooing. Deb got ready, not leaving the bedroom until she was fully dressed and prepared for work. She found Dexter sitting in front of Harrison's high chair, feeding him some orange mush.

They looked at each other awkwardly before Dexter finally broke the silence. "Hey…How'd you sleep?"

"Uh…good. You?"

"Yeah, good. Harrison slept through the night."

"Good."

Another awkward pause and Deb decided it was time to go.

"I made breakfast." Deb turned back to face Dexter. "Pancakes."

Deb hesitated only briefly before she smiled at him. She dropped her bag on the floor, picked up a plate and loaded it up. She sat at the breakfast bar and ate. Halfway through her meal Dexter handed her Harrison and she bounced him on her lap as she finished up.

They didn't talk, but when she handed Harrison back before heading out the door she found herself looking at her affable, lab geek older brother and she knew everything would be alright.