Prompt: Holiday gifts

A/N: So there appears to be a little series within this challenge that has emerged. If you're intrigued you can read the following set of vignettes in this order for a little AU storyline:

Actually making up

Holiday gifts

Normal

An activity they both enjoy

A "good day"

Looks like I'm finally nearing the end almost a year after starting! Glad you guys are still around so long after the show ended

There were two presents. The first one opened with Harrison in her lap, his soft, small body curled against hers as he happily giggled at the twinkling Christmas lights. They sat together on the floor, by the tree, surrounded by shredded wrapping paper and Harrison's new toys. Dexter sat grinning on the couch, acting for the entire world like an average dad on Christmas morning.

Her wrist was sore, but she managed just fine to pull the paper off of the rectangular box. She took the lid off to reveal a navy blue shirt with white polka dots.

"Harrison thought you might want a change." Dexter smirked at her, gestured to her striped shirt.

She leant down to Harrison. "Are you sick of my stripes?" And he giggled in return. With her good hand she tickled him until he squirmed in her lap, his laughter bouncing off the walls. It felt good to her to play with him like this. It allowed her to forget for just a moment how fucked up everything was. For a few precious minutes she felt a sort of a vague peace and contentment.

The second present came later. After they had put Harrison in front of the tv and the dishes were being placed in the sink. She was standing at the counter, lost in thought, when he came up behind her. She hadn't heard him until one hand was wrapped around her arm. She tensed, gasped, had to force her body to relax and release the lungful of air. He slid closer, until his chest leaned against her back, brought his lips down to the spot of skin exposed above the neck of her shirt.

The feel of something sharp and smooth in her palm startles her and she looks down to find his hand over her own. He pulls it away and she turns her wrist, sees the clear glass, the spot of crimson in the middle already dried. The bile rises in her throat, her head spins and it is with great effort that she turns her palm down so that the blood slide sits on the counter, covered by her hand, out of view.

Dexter presses his nose into her hair, his lips next to her ear. "Your real present."

She's trapped, imprisoned by him. There is no turning away, nowhere to run. She wants to cry or scream or punch him in his god damn face. But she is frozen, stuck, waiting for his next move.

"You were right about Hannah." She can feel one hand move to her waist, further restricting her movements. "She did poison you."

She is sure she'll be sick now. Her blood is rushing to her head, her heart pounding in her ears. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, a choked sob. This was what she had asked for weeks ago. The precise thing that she wanted. And he had told her then that he couldn't for her sake. Of course it had all been a fucking lie, but he hadn't been wrong. Because even though Deb understood that some people did not deserve to live, even though she had taken a life before, this was different.

"I did this for you, Deb." He whispers, his version of sweet nothings.

He has killed for her. And not just anyone. Someone he claimed to have feelings for, someone he thought he had a future with. What kind of future, Deb couldn't understand. But still, he has made a sacrifice.

"Now you're safe." His voice slips past her ear.

Safe from what, she wants to ask him. Because she might be safe from his poisonous, blonde girlfriend, but she is certainly not safe from him. And now she knows without a doubt that she never will be. Their lives, so inextricably intertwined, have only become more so. Though blood did not bind them from birth, it does so now. She can feel it on her once clean hands; she can see him covered in it as well.

She turns finally to face him, still trapped between his body and the counter. She wraps her fingers around his shoulders, leans her forehead against his. She can hear her breathing, heavy and uneven. Before she can think twice she pushes her lips against his. Though the kiss is hard, brutal, she can feel an inner surrender. Who she was before, the good cop, the loving sister, those are gone. Nothing matters anymore but him.

When she breaks the kiss, she feels a different person emerge. A person she doesn't recognize. Someone she never dreamed she could be.

Dexter meets her gaze steadily. She can see all of him, every bit that he spent most of their lives hiding. And while she should go, while she knows she should run far away from him, she just can't.

"I love you." He tells her, and she really believes him.

She nods, closes her eyes momentarily so she can take a breath, calm her heart and mind. When she opens her eyes the sickness has passed, her heart beats steadily, even. "I know."

The blood slide sits on the counter, the start of the new chapter of their lives.