Prompt: An Argument

A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful comments and words of encouragement! I love you all :) And thanks to PSiwrotethis for reminding me that I didn't actually site the source of the 30 day challenge! You can find the details here: post/79797116662/30-day-otp-challenge-for-unhealthy-abusive-paring. Here comes chapter 2!

Part of him is terrified, scared out of his wits. He has completely lost control of the situation. Of himself.

But he's too angry to hold back now. "What the FUCK were you thinking?!" His voice booms off of the walls.

He can see Deb's anger rising, but his is already overflowing. Hot lava boils in the pit of his stomach, gushes up and out of every pore of his being.

"Fuck you." Deb's voice is low, never a good sign. Her head is tilted down, her eyes glaring up at him, flames leaping.

"Fuck me?! FUCK ME?!" Dexter can feel himself raging, but as hard as he tries he can't reel it back in. "You don't listen. You go and put yourself in danger. And you are fucking lucky I showed up in time. So fuck me? No, FUCK YOU!"

He can never remember being so angry with her, feeling so absolutely enraged that he thinks he might do something stupid. He actually fears he might hurt her. Which is ironic, because her safety is what has him so riled up to begin with.

That voicemail had frightened him to his core. He was certain that he would show up to the house and find her mangled, broken body soaked in blood. He had known from the beginning that telling Deb about Speltzer was a bad idea. That she would never be able to give him the room he needed to do his work. But he didn't think that telling her would bring her this close to danger.

So now he can't quite decide if he's angry at her, or angry at himself. But here he is, lashing out at her in a way he never has before. Deb was always the emotional one to his quiet and reserved self. It didn't matter what she said to him, how she yelled or called him names; he always just took it because that was what she needed. He is actually quite amazed that he is capable of speaking to her this way, of directing this much anger towards her.

Deb scoffs at him. "You think you're some kind of fucking hero, riding up, saving the day? I've got news for you Dexter, you're not. You walk around here talking about saving Speltzer's next victim. You act as if this is all about the greater good."

Deb steps closer to him. Right into his space so she's just a breath away. "You're no better than he is." She hisses.

It hurts him more than he wants to admit, that she thinks of him as a monster now. He had thought she had still perceived some good in him, despite everything she had seen lately. But in that moment he knows better. There's a sudden surge of anger within him and without thinking he slams her against the nearest wall.

A small voice within him is telling him to stop, to make sure he never hurts Deb. It sounds vaguely like Harry, but it's distant and soft. He can recognize that he truly is not in control anymore, that his Dark Passenger has the wheel and very possibly cannot be stopped.

His hands are holding tightly onto Deb's shoulders, his breath coming hard as he stares down at her. She seems caught off guard, but surprisingly un-rattled. And just as he wonders what he will do next there's a shift. It's nearly indiscernible, but the longer he stares down at Deb, the more he feels it. A new tension fills the air. The harsh pants of his breathing sound strangely like something else and he is hyper aware of the heat coming from her body.

Deb gasps, her expression changing, a look he can't quite place. He frowns uncertainly and releases his tight grip on her, shuffles back a half step. Deb's gaze shifts away from him awkwardly and he can see her taking a steadying breath. "You need to go." Her voice is slightly husky, he can see a pinkness growing in her cheeks.

It's as if he's come back to his senses. The past few moments, the raised voices and thrown curses, seem like a waking dream. "Deb…" He looks at her concerned, unsure of what has transpired.

She shakes her head at him, steps away from the wall and rubs her right hand over her left shoulder where he had exerted the most pressure. "Forget it. We're just upset." She turns away from him, towards her sink where she slowly fills a glass of water. He watches her down it, still waiting for some explanation from her or his own tired brain. None comes to mind.

She turns her head slightly, but doesn't look at him. "Go home Dex." He stares at her a moment more, but finally nods at this. He leaves her standing in her kitchen and quietly closes the door behind him.