A/N: The original prompt was for a slap, but I'm pretty sure a punch seems more in order...

Prompt: A (Slap)Punch to the Face

The first time Deb punched him in the face had been very accidental. They had been goofing off. Or rather Deb had been goofing off. She was doing that play boxing thing, bouncing around on her toes, fists in front of her face. Dexter had actually found it mildly amusing, until she lost control of one jab and landed a blow to his nose, resulting in quite a bit of blood. Dexter did not enjoy his own blood.

The second time had been a slightly less than gentle upper cut to his jaw. It was safe to say that Deb did not understand her own strength because what was meant to be a playful shot had hurt a hell of a lot.

But the third time she definitely meant it. And he more than felt it. Lying back on the floor of his bedroom, he looks up at his sister as stars flash in front of his eyes and the room tilts precariously. This time her fist connected with his temple, knocking him over into a confused lump. This time, he might have deserved it.

Deb is rather livid. All the tell-tale signs. The furrowed brow, the balled up fists, chest heaving under the towel she is wrapped in. The towel with nothing underneath it.

He has enough sense to not stare at her legs, and shuts his eyes, rubs his fingers into his head.

"What the fuck?!" Deb looks down at him, contempt and fear fighting with her anger.

"Geez Deb, what?"

"What?!" Her voice shrieks and Dexter isn't sure if he's glad there is no one home to hear them or if he could use a save. "What the fuck were you doing?!"

Dexter scoots back, away from his sister, as he tries to get his bearings enough to get back on his feet.

"Answer me!" Deb's voice is shrill and does nothing to help Dexter's already spinning head.

"I just…walked in accidentally." Dexter pulls himself onto his bed as he watches Debra's face turn a brighter shade of red.

"You're such a fucking creep!" And with that she turns on her heel and storms out of his room, slamming the door behind her.

"Deb?" Dexter knocks on her door softly, concerned that she never joined him for dinner. He waits a few moments before he knocks again. "Deb? I brought you a plate…"

The door inches open and he can see Deb eyeing him through the crack. "What."

"Uh…you didn't eat dinner…I thought you might be hungry?" Dexter stammered uncomfortably, the look on Deb's face making him nervous.

"I think I might be hungrier if my fucking brother wasn't spying on me in the bathroom." Deb tells him flatly.

Dexter shakes his head. "It was an accident. I didn't realize you were in there."

"How long were you there?" Deb scrunched her face at him, disturbed.

"What?" Dexter faltered.

"How long were you peeking through the fucking door, Dex?" He can see her anger returning.

"I wasn't. I told you, I opened the door because I didn't realize you were in there."

"That's bullshit." Deb narrows her eyes at him. "How long Dex?"

Dexter shakes his head. "What are you talking about? Why would you think I was there for longer than a second? Look, I didn't see anything, okay?"

Deb stares at him long on hard as if her gaze might cause his secrets to spill forth. "Well, I guess I'll just ask Dad to put a lock on the door so none of these embarrassing situations happen to either of us ever again." Deb cocks her eyebrow at him, testing him.

"That's a good idea, Deb." Dexter returns with a smile. Deb affords him one last skeptical gaze before shutting the door on his face. He sighs and looks down at the plate in his hands. He should really be more careful when it comes to Deb. He had certainly done a better job in the past. But she always was very good at seeing through his bullshit and this was no exception. As Dexter puts away the food and heads back to his room he mulls over the last glimpse he was probably going to be getting of his naked sister.