A/N: old school flashbacks of debster :) hope you enjoy!
Prompt: Displaying co-dependency
Harry stands uncomfortably in the dark living room. The TV plays some third rate slasher film, blood spurting like a geyser out of the current victim. The dinner dishes still sit on the coffee table, the tomato sauce drying on the plates. But what makes Harry uncomfortable in this current tableau is the site of Dexter's arm around Debra's shoulder, Debra leaning against Dexter, both fast asleep.
Harry grimaces, rubs his palm against his forehead and sighs. Their surprising closeness he once condoned and even encouraged now gave him pause. Despite his warnings to Dexter to keep a certain distance from Debra, to hide the most dangerous parts of himself from her, their bond was undeniable.
But there was more to it than that. There was something that distressed him in a different way. They weren't quite children anymore and there were moments where they didn't quite act like siblings. He didn't like to think about it too much, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder exactly what kind of bond they were forging.
While there was the part of him that wanted desperately to protect Dexter, to try and direct his urges in a productive way and still keep him safe, more and more he was finding his concern growing in other directions. He worried about Debra and how things might turn out for her. He wanted badly for Debra to be Dexter's guide to humanity, his connection to the outside world. But he understood that this may be asking a lot of her, especially when there were so many things she was unaware of, things that could cause her pain and heartache.
And now with her growing into a young woman with no mother to guide her, Harry felt helpless to support her, utterly clueless about what she needed. Meanwhile Dexter needed him in a way he could comprehend, in a way that he could actually help, and it seemed so much simpler to focus on his adoptive son. After all, if he did that job right he could turn a predator of innocents into a hunter of deviants. He could make a difference to so much more than his own children if he handled things the right way now. Even if that meant his daughter would suffer, he could only hope she was strong enough to deal with it.
Harry turns his back on his sleeping children and flips on the living room lights. The brightness in the room elicits a groan from Deb who rubs her eyes and sits up. Next to her Dexter blinks quickly and brings his hands back to his lap.
"Dad?" Deb mumbles. "What time is it?"
"Late." Harry switches off the TV. "Go to bed Debra."
Deb frowns at him uncertainly. He only ever uses both syllables of her name when he's upset and she can't figure out what could be pissing him off now. "I'll do the dishes." Deb volunteers quietly, an offer she rarely makes and nothing more than a desire to appease her father.
"JUST…" Harry raises his voice abruptly before forcing himself to stop, squeeze his eyes shut and take a forcibly calming breath. "Just go to bed. Dexter will do it."
Of course this succeeds in pissing Debra off and she frowns further. "Fine." Deb huffs as she stomps out of the living room and up the stairs.
Harry waits until he hears her door slam shut and watches as Dexter picks the plates up and walks into the kitchen. He follows closely behind his son and when Dexter turns on the tap he steps behind him and shuts the water off. Dexter turns sideways and looks up at Harry confused.
"What are you doing?" Harry's voice is stern and Dexter glances down at the dishes in the sink.
"I was going to wash them-" Dexter attempts.
"What are you doing with Debra?" Harry's voice has taken on an edge that Dexter hasn't heard before. He looks back at his father with his usual calm. It is enough to make Harry snap. He grabs the boy by his throat and swivels, slamming Dexter back against the fridge. He presses hard against Dexter's windpipe until he is sputtering, his hands clawing against the grip.
"What are you doing with my daughter?" Harry repeats more dangerously than before.
He continues to push against Dexter's throat until he can see that it's almost too much. Then he finally manages to let go, pulling back suddenly so that Dexter crumbles to the ground coughing and wheezing. Harry leaves him there coldly, taking a seat at the kitchen table, the room lit only by the dim bulb over the sink.
They sit in silence for a time, Harry stewing at the kitchen table while Dexter watches him bewildered from his spot on the floor. Harry knows that Dexter doesn't understand, can't possibly comprehend his worries. In some ways he sympathizes with the boy. He is in an impossible position with no internal compass to guide him. He actually pities Dexter for the world that he will never be part of – not really anyways.
Harry stares down at his hands as he begins to speak. "You're becoming a young man Dexter. A young man with unusual tendencies."
Dexter sits still and watches his adoptive father intently. He trusts Harry to know what is right and whatever had him so upset at the moment must be important.
"I've told you to protect Debra before. I've told you to protect her from yourself." Harry grinds out the last word between gritted teeth.
Dexter frowns, "I have. I haven't told her anything. I promise."
With Harry's gaze still fixed on his gripping hands, Dexter's voice sounds childish. Soon enough he wouldn't be a child and everything that already felt so complicated would only get worse.
"It's more than that Dexter." Harry pauses, decides to ask the question he has avoided for so long. "What do you think of Debra?" His voice is soft and gruff and Dexter tilts his head at his father uncertainly.
After a long pause Harry looks towards Dexter, still sitting with his back against the fridge. "What is Debra to you?"
"My sister." Dexter answers simply.
"What else?" When Dexter squints up at him again Harry loses what's left of his calm. He slams his palm against the table. "What do you want from her?!" Harry bellows.
"Nothing." Dexter insists.
Harry gets up from the table and looms menacingly over Dexter. "What do you feel when you look at her?" His voice has dropped back to a normal level but the edge of anger remains.
"I don't…" Dexter looks up at Harry at a loss. The older man clearly wants something but Dexter just can't understand what.
Harry turns away, running his hand through his hair. He stands at the sink and looks over the backyard. Sometimes he thinks he should give up on the kid. Turn him over to an institution. Let them figure out what to do with him. Because sometimes he realizes he's in too deep and they will all pay for his sins.
"I'm risking everything here Dexter. Everything so that you have a chance. Everything so that you're not locked away and forgotten. But for all that I'm doing, none of it will matter if people get hurt. And the one most likely to get hurt is Debra. You can't let that happen. Do you understand?"
Dexter gets slowly to his feet. "I won't."
Harry turns on him suddenly and Dexter stumbles back, tripping over his feet. Before he can fall he feels Harry's strong grip around his arms, pulling him upright. "Promise me." Harry intones fiercely. "Promise now that Debra will never be hurt by you. That you'll never mistreat her. That you'll be a good brother. That you won't-" Harry still can't voice what he really wants to say. "That you won't let her too close but you won't abandon her either." He looks closely into Dexter's eyes, hoping for a hint of emotion. "One day you may be all she has. You can't fuck this up boy."
"I-I promise." Dexter rushes to say.
Harry lets go just as suddenly as he grabbed onto Dexter, who now struggles to regain his balance. "She loves you Dexter, you know that. You can't…take advantage of that any more than you already are." Harry gives him a long hard look.
Dexter hears the words but thinks there is more to it, something Harry cannot say. And Dexter doesn't know how to ask. He nods in agreement instead. He wants to listen to Harry because he respects this man that took him in, that is helping him become something. And he has no desire to see Deb get hurt; by himself or anyone else.
"I'm trusting you Dexter." Harry walks past him out of the kitchen, the conversation at a close.
Dexter still feels confused because he can't see any reason why Deb would get hurt. He's done as he's been asked; kept his secrets close, kept Deb away from his darkness. And he would continue to do just that. Deb deserved to be happy, deserved to not get tangled in his lies.
"Dex?" He turns to find Deb. "What's going on with Dad?" The softness of her voice betrays her hurt.
"Uh…he was just mad we hadn't gone to bed. I'll clean up. You go sleep." He turns towards the sink and feels Deb step closer, wrap her arms around him from behind.
They stay still, wrapped together for several minutes before Deb lets go and leaves without a word. Dexter stays in the spot for a while longer. He won't let anything happen to Deb, because he simply can't lose her.