Underneath It All

by indecentlytheatrical

Summary:

One day while working a regular shift at a coffee shop, you encounter an unusually kind customer. Little do you know, with Dexter Morgan, there's more than meets the eye…

Notes:

summary may change, i’m terrible at those lol - but here’s chapter one! will probs just be a mini series but we’ll see. hope you enjoy !

Chapter 1: Meet-Cute

It was October in Florida and finally cooling down, if only just a bit.

You'd been there for just under nine months and were still getting used to the often intense weather. There were good things about the move, however. You had an apartment of your own and a job to pay for it, though the latter achievement came at the expense of your sanity, at times. Working at a coffee shop had to be one of the worst forms of customer service hell. You couldn't count how many times you'd been screamed at for not automatically knowing a regular's order or for following the shop's price changes, as if you set them, yourself.

You had your few nicer interactions, of course, and you appreciated every one of them. Who knew being decent had become so uncommon? There was one exchange in particular that stuck with you, however. One day, you were taking a customer's order, her hands full with toys and other assorted things for the baby on her hip. As she searched in her bag for her wallet, clearly annoying some customers behind her in line, a man stepped in and paid for her. You couldn't help but smile a little.

"That was nice of you." you found yourself saying as he stepped up to register after she had gone. It wasn't often you made a ton of conversation with customers, knowing how some people could be first thing in the morning. Although by his kind deed, you figured this was a safe bet. The man smiled softly, the natural light illuminating his hazel eyes. Fuck. Were you really romanticizing a customer?

"Oh, it was nothing, really." he brushed off with a wave of his hand. You knew people sometimes said that disingenuously, but it really appeared he didn't want the acknowledgment. Like this good deed was his and his alone. You could appreciate that, humble people seemed increasingly harder to find.

"Can I get a name?" you asked after taking his order.

"Uh, Dexter." he replied, seeming almost hesitant to say it.

"Dexter. That's a cool name." you complimented, getting another, slightly bigger smile from him. For whatever reason, that made your day. You smiled back. "That'll be ready at the bar in a few."

Dexter nodded and went off to wait for his drink, leaving you with a line of annoyed customers. Lest you take a moment or two longer to actually make a little conversation. Figures.

-

It was only a few days later when Dexter returned, this time accompanied by a younger-looking woman with dark hair and a penchant for cursing. Sister? Some delusional part of you that was nursing a slight crush on him hoped that was the case.

"Ah, Dexter, right? We'll have that right out for you." you told him, exchanging small smiles like before. His female companion made a face of surprise and amusement, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. Definitely a younger sister.

"Thank you." he replied simply, quickly ushering his sister away from the register before she could embarrass him any further. You chuckled, writing his name on the cup and handing it off to your coworker.

"We're switching." she told you, sounding slightly annoyed and handing it back.

"Okay…" you replied, putting your hands up in defense as you switched stations with her.

After making a few other drinks that had come before, you'd finished his order, setting the cups on the counter.

"Dexter?" you called out, getting his attention almost immediately.

The two came up to the bar, picking up their drinks, his sister trying not to laugh out loud.

"My brother thinks you're cute!" she exclaimed, catching both you and him off guard.

"What? Deb. " he said her name like it was a bad word, a warning for her not to continue. She wasn't listening.

"I'll give you two some space." said Deb with a grin, leaving out the side door.

"I'm so sorry." Dexter apologized, but you shook your head with a chuckle.

"No worries." you told him. You grabbed a napkin and wrote your number down, handing it to him afterwards. "So she'll leave you alone about it."

Dexter chuckled, seeming genuinely appreciative of your gesture.

"Ah, thanks. I promise I won't bother you." he added, ever the gentleman.

"You could," you said, only realizing you'd done so a second later by his inquisitive look. "I mean, if you wanted to."

A nervous laugh followed your clarification, making him smile.

"Thanks for the coffee." was all he said before he left, making you wonder if you'd just completely embarrassed yourself. There was little time to dwell on it as your attention was redirected on an influx of new drink orders and grumpy customers.

On your walk home after work, however, there was one new text message on your phone from an unknown number.

Hi, this is Dexter… From the coffee shop.

You chuckled to yourself. Who was this sweet, awkward dork you'd just met?

Chapter 2: Rusty

Summary:

You go on your first date with Dexter.

Notes:

lol i never post this frequently when i do a longer series ahhh i just have so many ideas… this is def gonna be like a mini slow burn bc Dex is awkward and emo but yk what hell yeah. unedited - i’ll come back later. hopefully will update again soon! thanks for reading :)

"What if he's a serial killer?" joked your roommate, Amy, looking up from your text messages before handing your phone back to you.

You gave her a look, rolling your eyes playfully. You'd gotten lucky, actually managing to befriend your roommate, which made it a lot easier to cohabitate. 

"Oh, stop, Ames. It's just dinner." you retorted, checking your hair in the mirror.

"That's what they all say." she went on, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah." you brushed off, slipping your favorite jacket on before walking to the door. "You'll be the first one I call if that turns out to be true."

Amy huffed, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out at you as you waved goodbye. After casually talking for a few days, you'd agreed to meet Dexter at a nice little restaurant/bar downtown. It had been a while since you had been on date, deciding not to get involved with anyone until you were certain you were staying in Florida. You hoped that even if it wasn't fireworks, you two could still have some fun together. You only knew a little about each other, wanting to save it for the real date. He was a blood spatter analyst working at Miami Metro. He owned a boat, and liked pulled pork sandwiches. Good enough for you.

After a short drive, you parked and headed into the restaurant, spotting Dexter in the front lobby. Punctual. Nice.

"Dexter, hi." you said as you came up to him, a small smile on your lips.

"Hey, how are you?" he greeted, returning the expression. "I got us a table."

"Oh, perfect. Thank you." you said, following him and a hostess out to a gated deck. The small tea candle in the center of the table flickered as you both sat down. You futzed with a ring on your right hand, your first initial attached to the top of the band. You chuckled nervously, looking around at your surroundings. "So, this is a nice place. I, um, haven't explored much down here yet."

Dexter nodded in agreement, the ghost of a smile gracing his face. "Yeah, I always liked this spot. You said you've been here eight months?"

His calm exterior soothed your nerves a bit. You smiled, nodding.

"Nine on Sunday." you added, laughing softly.

"Congratulations." he replied, mirroring your gesture. "What brought you out here?"

You could feel a shiver creep down your back, despite the warm weather. You cleared your throat, trying to play it off and hoping he hadn't seen.

"Oh, you know… Sunny days? It is the sunshine state, after all." you stumbled over your words, cringing internally. He definitely noticed that time.

"That it is." Dexter agreed, seemingly unfazed.

"I'm sorry, I'm usually not this awkward. I haven't been out with someone in a minute." you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment.

Dexter chuckled, dismissing your apology with a wave of his hand.

"Don't worry about it." he assured, leaning in slightly as if he were telling a secret. "I'm awkward 95 percent of the time."

You laughed at his self-effacing comment, feeling yourself relax a little more. It was as if he knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

"I guess I'm in good company, then." you joked, the two of you sharing a laugh just as the waiter came around to set down water glasses and ask if you had any drink orders. Maybe this wasn't going as bad as you thought.

-

Later on, after dinner, you decided to take a walk, Dexter volunteering to show you a little more of the downtown area and its fixtures. There was a night market going on, and he pointed things out as you strolled.

"So, why blood spatter analysis?" you inquired as you passed stalls offering various wares and activities.

"Well, my dad was a cop. He did a lot of good work, and I guess I wanted to be part of it in some way." Dexter answered, though it seemed like he was holding something back. You simply smiled and nodded, deciding to leave it alone.

"You don't ever get squeamish?" you asked, making a face at the thought of working with blood all the time.

"I don't think I'd have lasted long if I did." he laughed a little, continuing a moment later, "You get used to it, though. You'd be surprised at how much a single drop of blood can tell you. It's pretty fascinating, really…"

His expression turned slightly serious as he trailed off, as if he were lost in thought. You raised your eyebrows, wondering for a second if Amy had been right before laughing again and nudging him playfully. Dexter joined you, his smile almost making you forget the earlier moment. No way, he was just invested in his job. Nothing wrong with that.

"That is really cool. And you're helping people, too. You and your sister, right?" you questioned, recalling a text message where he'd mentioned they worked at the same station.

"Yeah, Deb's in Vice right now but she wants to move into Homicide soon." he clarified, and you nodded. "So, why barista?"

You let out a long, dramatic sigh. Dexter laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know, I just love being yelled at all day, everyday. And I'm a masochist, so that works perfectly." you quipped, shaking your head. "No, well, because of my excellent planning skills, I didn't have a job lined up when I got here. Metro Espresso was the first one I could get on such short notice."

"Is it really that awful?" Dexter questioned, making you snicker.

"Remember that day you paid for that lady with the baby?" you posed, and Dexter nodded. "The guy after you complained for five minutes straight about our two-second conversation taking too long."

Dexter grimaced, "Wow, I am sorry."

"Don't apologize, you were doing something nice. Some people are just wired wrong." you said offhandedly, catching a glimpse of a frown on his face before he smiled again.

"Ooh, look ice cream!" he points out, diverting your attention as he walked that way.

You lingered where you were, thinking for a moment. You shrugged to yourself, catching up to him a second later.

-

"Thanks for walking with me." you said as Dexter escorted you to your car.

"No problem." he answered, flashing a brief smile.

It was a relatively short walk, the market having been only a couple blocks away from the restaurant.

"Nice night." you commented as you passed by a marina, hearing the gentle waves and the boats bobbing softly in the water.

"Yes, it is." Dexter agreed, looking around, as well.

The streets were mostly empty now, the warm glow of the lampposts casting down onto his face and lighting his features once again. You stopped walking, Dexter realizing a moment later and turning towards you, looking at you expectantly. His eyes were really pretty. A mix of green and brown with specks of grayish blue that perfectly complemented his auburn hair.

"You're cute, you know that?" you voiced, your tone light and honeyed.

If you didn't know any better, the faintest blush crept over Dexter's cheeks as he stared back at you, seeming almost at a loss for words. You leaned closer, your faces only inches apart. If there were a perfect time for a kiss, it was now.

"Thank you…" he finally said, interrupting the moment.

You looked at him for a second before pulling away. Had you misread things?

"Oh, god, I'm so embarrassed… I'm so sorry—" you had begun to say but Dexter cut you off.

"No, no, it's not you, I swear. I just…haven't done this in a while. I'm rusty is all." he explained, and from what you could tell, it was genuine. You nodded in understanding, hoping you hadn't overstepped.

"That's okay. I am too, honestly." you echoed him, recalling your own awkward moment from earlier, "We can take things slow. How would that be?"

"Yeah, fine by me." Dexter nodded in agreement, offering you an apologetic smile. Then, surprising you and possibly himself, he took your hand. "C'mon, let's find your car."

You smiled, feeling that you were once again on the same page. He held your hand the rest of the way to your car and bid you good night, even giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. On the way home, you replayed the night in your head, unsure of what to think. Was he actually rusty or was he just not that into you?

Upon entering your apartment, however, you looked at your phone and saw there was one new message.

Dexter: Thank you for the great night. See you again soon?

The corners of your lips turned up slightly at the words. Maybe he was telling the truth…

Chapter 3: Strike

Summary:

An ominous reminder of your past leaves you in need of a distraction. You and Dexter get closer.

Notes:

update finally!! had to rewrite this a few times but i think i’m happy with it lol - i’ll come to edit later. thanks for the support so far! :)

You sat in the cramped 'break area' at the back of the coffee shop, munching on a granola bar and reading a book. It had been absolutely nuts today, the place getting slammed the moment you clocked in. Suddenly, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Setting your book down, you flipped it open and pressed it to your ear without looking at the collar ID first.

"Hey," you answered plainly, expecting it to be Amy asking to borrow a top or something.

"Hey, yourself." said a very familiar man's voice, making you jump.

It was all rushing back to you. His surprisingly strong arms pinning you, the struggle to break free. What you had to do to get away.

"How did you get this number?" you demanded in a hushed but angry tone.

The man on the other end simply laughed, then the line went dead.

You stared at your phone in horror and shock. All you had done to distance yourself—gone in less than a minute. Your thumb hovered over the block button but you hesitated. What was to stop him from calling you from a different number? You were so angry and scared you could've smashed your phone right there and then.

"Hey!" called your coworker, standing in the hallway. "Didn't you hear me? Tina's here so it's my break time—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." you cut her off, not in the mood.

Putting your things away, you got up and went back to the front, joining your other, slightly nicer coworker. For the rest of the day, you tried to bury yourself in work but by the end, you were practically running on fumes.

When you got home, your apartment was empty, a note from Amy on the refrigerator saying she'd gone to see her cousins in Tampa for the weekend. You sighed to yourself. Being alone was the last thing you wanted right now. You picked up your phone, tapping the keypad until you found the number you were looking for. It rang three times before he answered.

"Dexter, hi. You busy tonight?"

-

As it turned out, it was bowling night with his coworkers. You didn't mind, needing the distraction, and who didn't like bowling every once in a while? You sat back, watching Dexter line up his shot and then release the ball, managing to get a strike. His coworkers cheered and you couldn't help but join in.

"Pretty impressive." you complimented as he made his way back over to the seats. Dexter chuckled, sitting down beside you.

"You should see him at a crime scene - got a nose like a bloodhound. Blood-hound. Get it?" joked his coworker, detective Angel Batista.

"Very funny, Angel." came Dexter's deadpan reply, getting a laugh out of the man and a playful swat on the arm before grabbing a ball.

Just then, Dexter's other coworker, Vince Masuka, returned from the bar, two beers in hand. As he walked over to Angel, he gave Dexter a look of approval in reference to your being there, making you snort.

"Sorry about that." Dexter said on his behalf after he'd gone. You shook your head, chuckling.

"Don't worry about it," you assured, giving him a little nudge on the shoulder. "Just nice to be appreciated."

Dexter laughed softly, a comfortable silence then falling between you. You'd only been out a few times but there was something about him that intrigued you. He was a little awkward at times, sure, but he was sweet and by taking things slow, the pressure to rush into anything was off. You still hadn't kissed, but you were hopeful that tonight would be the night.

"Are you okay?" you heard Dexter ask, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "You kinda spaced out."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," you clarified, shaking your head as if to clear it, "Today was just…weird."

"Weird how?" asked Dexter, a look of curiosity on his face.

"Dex, your turn!" shouted Vice, interrupting you two.

"Be right back." he told you, giving you a light touch on your shoulder before grabbing another ball and walking back to the lane. You nodded, giving him a small smile. Then, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket, you could feel your heart jump. Cautiously, you took it out to find you had one new message.

Unknown number: Miss me?

You felt like you were gonna throw up.

"Everything okay?" asked Dexter.

You quickly stowed your phone, not realizing he'd been standing there.

"Yeah, just stupid spam calls." you lied, chuckling weakly.

"Ah," Dexter acknowledged, though you could tell he didn't buy it. He paused, thinking for a moment, before continuing with a slight smile, "Hey, wanna get out of here? I think I got something that'll take your mind off the day."

Your eyes widened slightly, hoping you hadn't misinterpreted what he meant. You smirked, grabbing your things and following him out. This was exactly the distraction you needed.

-

"Pretty nice, huh?" said Dexter, gesturing to the interior of his small fishing boat.

You smiled in disbelief, nodding.

"Yeah," you agreed, stepping closer to him, toying with the collar of his bowling shirt. "You know, I think we have different meanings for the phrase, 'wanna get out of here?'"

Dexter chuckled, his hand coming up to gently rub your shoulder. "You seemed…upset."

You sighed, frowning slightly. "I was. I am. I don't know… I don't wanna think about it right now." you expressed, voice laced with frustration and a hint of sadness.

"What is 'it' exactly?" he asked softly, clearly trying not to pry, at least not too hard.

You looked up at him, contemplating telling him before ultimately giving in, "It's fine. Just some creep from my past harassing me. I don't even know how he got my number."

"Why's he harassing you?" he questioned, and you chuckled.

"Are you sure you're not a cop on the side or something?" you teased, wanting to move on at that point.

Your arms came to wrap around his neck, feeling slightly emboldened by the bit of alcohol you'd had and his more outward willingness to touch you.

"Or something." he quipped, smirking a bit.

This time, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a brief but passionate kiss. Dexter pulled you closer, his hands on your waist. You smiled, the feeling bringing you a sense of warmth and ease. You looked out at the open ocean and then at the steering wheel of the boat.

"So, you gonna take me for a ride?"

Dexter laughed, nodding as took hold of the wheel, maneuvering to take you out a little further onto the water.

From the dock, a man stood in the shadows, unseen, watching the two of you as you sped away, chuckling to himself…

Chapter 4: Drive

Summary:

Things seem to be getting better and better with Dexter, but an uninvited guest spells for trouble in paradise.

Notes:

kinda short but wanted to post!! i love writing cutesy stuff with Dexter. hope you like it too:)

"Wow, this is beautiful…" you remarked, staring at the painting before you. It was mostly abstract shapes and colors but something about looking at a piece of artwork and seeing whatever you could intrigued you.

"Yeah, it is." Dexter agreed, though he didn't seem as moved. You looked over at him, chuckling.

"This not doing it for you?" you ask, turning to him with a teasing expression on your face. He shook his head, laughing a little.

"Never been much of an art guy." he answered. You raised your eyebrows, giving him a teasing smile.

"Well, thanks for indulging me, anyway." you voiced, giving him a quick kiss. "I think I've seen all I wanna see. What would you like to do?"

Dexter chuckled, opening his mouth to say something when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at it, giving you an apologetic look afterwards.

"Sorry, crime scene. Rain check?" he questioned, and you nodded in understanding. He kissed your lips, cupping your cheek tenderly. After walking you to your car, you embraced him, burying your face in his neck for a moment to breathe in his specific scent. You had made out a little the night he took you out on his boat but still hadn't gone all the way. Normally you would be impatient, but something told you it'd be worth the wait.

"Have fun with your blood." you teased as you both pulled away, making him laugh.

"Have fun with your coffee." he retorted, kissing your forehead before walking back to his car.

You smiled to yourself, watching him go for a moment before getting in your car and driving away.

You were in such a good mood, you weren't even bothered by the fact you were on closing duty that day. As you worked, you couldn't help but think of Dexter. It had been going so well lately. Aside from Amy, you knew very few people here and even fewer that you were close to. The thought of counting Dexter as one of those people made your heart flip.

Finally at the end of your shift, you were on your way out when you got a call. For a split second, you hesitated to take your phone out, glancing around you to make sure no one was waiting in some dark alley for you somewhere. Your phone kept ringing. Sighing, you picked up at last.

"Hello?" you answered flatly.

"Hello? What's with you?" said Amy on the other line, making you let out a breath of relief.

"Sorry, thought you were someone else." you replied, chuckling in spite of yourself.

"Who, like your serial killer boyfriend?" she teased, making you roll your eyes.

"Did you need something, Amy?" you prompted, dismissing her comment.

"Yes, I need you to come out with me. I'm meeting a guy and he's bringing his friend." Amy explained, adding before you could interrupt, "Don't worry, they know you're taken or whatever."

"What, so I'm just your wingman?" you teased back, waving to your boss as he locked up the shop.

"C'monnn, please? I'll put your drinks on his tab!" she pleaded, making you laugh as you got into your car, locking it immediately after. You thought for a second, deciding it wouldn't be the worst way to spend the remainder of your night.

"Okay, fine. I'll do it." you agreed, wincing when Amy's delighted squeal came through on the other end.

"You're a star! See you in a few." she said, hanging up right after.

Shaking your head with a laugh, you started the car. Before you could do anything else, however, you felt a sharp wire press against your throat, holding you in place. You gasped, your eyes drifting to the rear view mirror to see who was behind you. Your heart dropped. He locked eyes with yours as he spoke, cold and brusque,

"Drive."

Chapter 5: SOS

Summary:

You must fight for your life to escape a threat from your past.

Notes:

This took longer than expected but I am happy with it! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the love in the comments and kudos! :) <3 (will edit later)

Your breath was caught in your throat as your trembling fingers turned the key and the engine roared to life. Pulling out of the spot, the man held tight, not letting up for a second. 

"Right up here." he told you, forcing you to go in the opposite direction of your apartment. 

Your mind spun with questions and fear, but more than anything, you were kicking yourself. How could you have let yourself get so comfortable? You'd thought there was no way he could actually get to you, not really. 

"Left." he instructed after a long stretch of going straight. You were far from anywhere you recognized by now, the road dark and sprawling. 

You turned left, driving into the parking lot of what looked to be an old meatpacking plant. The building was extremely dilapidated, a sign which probably once said its name hanging on by a thread on the face of the structure. 

"Stop the car." he commanded, and you reluctantly obeyed. 

You were stock still, hands on the wheel, anxiously awaiting the next instruction. But it never came. Before you could act, a foul-smelling rag had been thrust into your face, whatever chemical he'd soaked it in instantly clouding your senses and eventually making you lose consciousness. 

-

You groaned, your eyes opening slowly as you stirred. Your head was spinning. Looking around in the dim light, your wrists were bound to a chair in the middle of a very dirty looking area of the plant. The sound of a metal clank caught your attention, and you looked to your left to see the man standing at a table fiddling with something. He laughed, not turning to look at you. 

"I'm a little disappointed, you know." he said, his words laced with mocking. "You never texted me back." 

"I thought you were in prison." you replied, adding a bit more quietly, "Or dead…" 

"Didn't take." he quipped, turning around with a grin on his face and a large knife in his hand. 

"Oh god damn it…" you muttered to yourself, dropping your head down, too scared to look. 

The cold metal blade slid under your chin, lifting it and forcing you to look up at him. 

"You know why you're here, right?" he questioned, though it was clear he was seeking a specific answer. 

"You know my roommate's expecting me at a bar, right?" you shot back, your anger at him overtaking your fear of the situation. He chuckled, leaning in close. 

"You think a whore like that's really gonna give two shits where you are right now?" he uttered, his voice low and biting. 

You narrowed your eyes, "You got some nerve after what you did, Dennis." 

The man tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back sharply, "You got no idea, baby." 

-

"Feeling better?" asked Dexter as you looked out at the water, smiling to yourself. 

You grinned wider, turning around to face him. Walking over to the captain's chair he was sitting on, you climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Much better…" you muttered, pausing a moment before leaning in to kiss him. 

Dexter kissed you back with surprising passion, his fingers in your hair as he moved against your lips. You pulled back, taking him in, when you spotted a spool of rope. 

"You go fishing a lot?" you questioned, catching him off guard for a second before he chuckled and nodded. 

"From time to time." he replied, hands still on your hips as he leaned back in his seat. 

"Know any knots?" you joked, chuckling at your little innuendo. 

Dexter didn't seem to notice this at first, replying genuinely, "Yeah, a few. Hang on, let me show you." 

He picked you up, setting you down on the chair and grabbing the rope. After tying it a few times, he held it up to you, "This is a surgeon's loop." 

You looked down at the knot, smiling at Dexter's sincere demonstration before letting out a chuckle. 

"I meant more like this." you remarked, grabbing the rope and gently wrapping around his wrists, tying his hands together. 

Dexter blushed, looking down at his tied hands, "Oh." 

You laughed at his reaction, undoing the rope and letting his hands drop, "I'm kidding. Well, mostly. I do think you look good tied up…" 

This time Dexter laughed, "Glad you think so." 

You couldn't help but smile. He never looked more free and uninhibited than when he was laughing. In all the time since you'd been in Florida, being with Dexter made you feel like you could forget everything that had come before. Like you were safe at last. 

"Wanna see how fast I can get my hands untied?" you put forth, a flirty glint in your eye. 

-

You struggled against your restraints as quietly as possible, your captor having left the room briefly to grab something. Whatever knot Dennis had used was nothing you had come across before and you knew your time was limited. Still woozy from the drugs, you got to your feet as carefully as you could, taking the chair with you. 

You walked towards the table, eyeing each individual weapon he'd brought to hurt you. Any one of them would be useful but you opted for a small pen knife. Leaning down, you went to grab the handle with your teeth when you noticed your phone buried beneath the blade of a large handsaw. In a split decision, you instead shifted the saw by its handle to access your phone. 

Although you knew the coverage had to be spotty, you had spotted a cell tower on the way here, only a few miles away. Using the tip of your nose, pressed the keypad three times for 911. When the call didn't go through, you typed SOS to the first person in your messages, who happened to be Dexter. You hit send, hoping against hope that if a call was too much to process, a text could still go through. Just then you heard footsteps, and you were forced to return to your original place in the middle of the room. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting. This just cuts so much better when it's freshly sharpened." Dennis relayed, presenting a large machete, the light catching on its blade and reflecting onto his face, an ominous spotlight. 

"Well, don't I feel special?" you mocked, hoping to provoke him and keep him away from the table long enough to give your message a chance to go through. 

Dennis stalked toward you, baring his teeth like a wild animal in a twisted grin. Once again, he invaded your space, the cheap cologne he wore making your nose wrinkle in disgust. Despite his internal monstrousness, he wasn't bad-looking. His dark hair was shorter than the last time you'd seen it, cut in a most likely prison-issued buzz, with light brown eyes and a strong jawline. He sported an even-toned complexion that suited him well, his face scattered with beauty marks. This was only blemished by a long scar that ran down his left cheek starting just below his eye. Dennis towered above you, his height almost certainly reaching above 6 feet. It wasn't unsurprising how many girls he'd managed to fool with his outward appearance, you included. 

"I thought about you a lot in the clink. Julie, too, of course." he added, her name coming seemingly as an afterthought to his true focus. Your blood boiled. 

"Don't talk about her—" you began furiously, cut off by the sudden sting of the back of his hand slamming against your cheek. 

"Did I say you could speak?" Dennis asked rhetorically, his words as cutting as his physical reprimand. "As I was saying, being wrongfully locked up and all, I had time to think. And I finally figured out why you tried so hard to get between Julie and me." 

Dennis paused for emphasis, and it took everything in you not to say your thoughts out loud. Because you were an abusive psychopath. 

"You were jealous." he finally said, and this time you couldn't hold back. 

"What?" you snapped, and his hand immediately went back to your throat. 

"You wanted me to yourself." Dennis went on, smirking, "I get it, really. I'm a handsome guy and after your dad left—" 

This time you cut him off, spitting directly in his face, making his smug expression drop instantly. Even as he pressed his blade to your throat, you did not relent, mirroring his enraged look. 

"Not very fair me being tied up. Scared I'll beat your ass again?" you taunted, eyes grazing over the scar on his face. 

Just as he began to press the machete harder, drawing blood and forcing a wince from you, your phone buzzed. Your heart flipped in your chest, thanking your lucky stars that you'd managed to reach someone. Dennis eyed you suspiciously. 

"If you called the fucking cops, you're dead." he threatened, though you had never once entertained the idea that he'd let you go. 

Getting up, you watched Dennis go to the table, pick up your phone and tap on the most recent message. Then, he chuckled. That couldn't be good. To your surprise, he brought your phone over, holding it up to reveal it was Amy who had texted.

Boo, you whore, it read, most likely in response to your standing her up. 

"God damn it, Dexter..." you cursed, wondering if your faith in his reliability had been misplaced. 

Before there was any chance to see if this was true or not, Dennis threw your phone on the ground, stomping on it for good measure. 

"So tough, yet you still asked a man to come save you." he spat, circling you like a great white until he stopped short behind you, "Still, you've got an interesting idea there. Let's see how long you last without the police coming to save you." 

Dennis' words brought you back to your previous altercation, the sight of your friend's unconscious form on the floor flashing in your mind. He'd been isolating her more and more since they'd got together and you'd be damned if you just sat idly by. Little did you know, taking matters into your own hands would be more dangerous than you thought. 

After barricading the only two exits, Dennis came back around, and to your surprise, he untied you. Before you had a chance to think however, a burst of pain was spreading through your gut—right where he had punched you. As you groaned and panted, he kicked the chair out from under you, sending you careening to the floor. He stood over you once more, a devious grin plastered on his face. 

"C'mon, get up. Your life depends on it, you know." he laughed evilly, walking around you. 

You looked up at him, holding your stomach, trying to find the strength to stand and fight. Once again, Dennis beat you to it, diving down to pin you to the floor by your arms. 

"Nothing? That's okay, you can just lie there—" you cut off his predatory taunt with a hard knee to his crotch, making him cry out in pain, loosening his grip on your arms. You scrambled for something on the ground to further disorient him, your fingers brushing your broken phone. Grabbing it, you wriggled your arm out from under his hand, reeled back and slammed it with as much force as you could muster into the center of his face. 

"Bitch!" he snarled, falling on his side to hold his bleeding nose, broken bits of plastic and metal sticking out of the wound. 

You took this as your opportunity to run, snatching a knife off the table and tucking it into your belt on your way to the exit. Dennis had blocked it with whatever was lying around the abandoned plant, old rusty tables, chairs and broken down machinery.

While you were able to clear away most of the lighter barricades, an old meat grinder still stood in your way. You tried your best to move it, pushing hard against the side of the dirty metal machine. Although it was no use, the grinder not budging one bit. You glanced behind you, gasping when you saw that Dennis was no longer there. Heart pounding, you grabbed a metal chair and ran to the side of the building, flinging it through a window. The glass shattered, offering a jagged hole for you to crawl through but before you could make your escape, two large arms wrapped around you from behind, dragging you backward. 

"Nice try." Dennis growled, dragging his machete across your chest, and forcing a pained shriek from your throat. He had deliberately avoided cutting you anywhere vital, he was going to make this last. You thrashed against his hold, grunting in effort. 

"We're gonna do this how I planned and you're going to suffer." Dennis said roughly, dragging you back toward the center of the room. Through your agony and fear, you threw your head back, nailing him in the face once more, disorienting him just long enough for you to get free. You drew your knife and faced him, panting and shaking with nerves. He had dropped his weapon in the struggle and there was little time to think. 

Dennis' eyes bore into you, glancing at his machete on the ground in front of him. For a moment, everything was silent, the air charged with tension until it snapped when he finally moved to grab it. You didn't give him a chance to retrieve it, however, your blade buried in his stomach before either of you could blink. You gasped, pulling back and taking the knife with you, watching as Dennis fell to his knees before you. Blood dripped from the knife, and it seemed to fall very slowly, your eyes fixed to the sight. In fact, everything from that point on seemed to move slower. You had frozen, at a loss for what you had just done. That is, until a familiar voice snapped you out of it. 

"Y/N." called Dexter, making you whip your head toward the back exit of the building, almost disbelieving the sight of him. "I got your text."

Chapter 6: Life Preserver

Summary:

Dexter helps you out. (In more ways than one.)

Notes:

two chapters in two days? it’s a miracle!! i really appreciate all the support, it really means the world to me and is very encouraging so thank you :) <3 hopefully i’ll update again soon! (also warning: this chapter contains smut, references to previous domestic abuse and discussion of murder (although that's sort of a given lol)) hope you enjoy!

-h :)

Dexter stood in the corner of the room, hands by his sides as he slowly approached you. 

"It's okay," he told you, his voice soft and soothing as he made his way over to you. Clearly, he knew the kind of state you were in well. Your mind was racing with questions and confusion. Your eyes redirected towards Dennis, who lay on the floor, seemingly dead or on his way there. Dexter went on, nearing closer to you and reaching for your hand which held the knife, "You don't have to be scared anymore." 

Then, as if out of a horror movie, Dennis lunged forward, causing you to scream and dive onto him, plunging your knife into his chest repeatedly until he ceased all movement. This left you on the ground in front of him, his blood beginning to pool around him, steadily leaking down towards you. Only then did you drop the knife, the blade clattering against the cold concrete floor. You sat there in silence for a moment, staring your crime in the face. 

"Y/N." Dexter repeated softly, crouching down beside you, carefully sidestepping the blood. You finally pulled your gaze away, looking at him as if he were an illusion. You had contacted him but this was not the situation you expected him to find you in. "I know it may not seem like it now, but it's gonna be okay. I can help you. But we've gotta move fast." 

You stared at him, turning his words over in your head. Then you looked back at Dennis' lifeless form. "Help me with what? The police? They're right behind you, I assume." 

"I came alone." he told you, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I tracked you myself. Thought if you were in real danger, cops could spark a hostage situation. No one wins there." 

You nodded, satisfied enough with his answer, though his reasoning was the least of your concern right now. 

"How can you help then?" you asked, watching the blood slowly soak into Dennis' clothes. 

"Help me get him into my trunk and I'll take care of the rest." Dexter answered, rather matter-of-factly. If you hadn't just killed someone, this sentiment would sound stranger to you. 

-

You sat at the edge of Dexter's bed, your eyes scanning the closed blinds for any change in lighting, for even the slightest movement. After hauling Dennis into his trunk, Dexter dropped you off at his apartment, which you had incidentally never been to prior. Before he left, he'd told you to give him the clothes you were wearing (in case of blood stains) and gave you some of his to wear. They didn't fit quite right but you appreciated the gesture, though it was born of something much darker than you could've imagined for yourself. 

An hour or so later, Dexter finally returned, and it was only then did you notice he was wearing black leather gloves. Had he been wearing those when he first came to the meat-packing plant? He closed the door, looking at you as he locked it behind him, as if it were a deliberate attempt to try to calm your nerves. Your face wore no pretense, utterly dejected and dazed. 

"Hey," he said gently as he walked into the room, taking off his gloves and setting them aside before kneeling in front of you. Dexter took your hand in his, careful not to move too fast, looking up at you with a kindness in his eyes you hadn't noticed previously, "How about we get you cleaned up?" 

The short time between when Dexter helped you out of your borrowed clothes and into the bath was a bit of a blur. You were lucky the cut on your chest wasn't deep enough to require stitches, though you had, had to endure some particularly strong antiseptic when you first got in his car. Your old bandage was bloody enough to warrant a change, Dexter doing so after helping to towel you off and clean it a bit more. Funny this was the first time he'd seen you fully naked. 

It was when he was peeling the protective seal off a new bandage that you finally spoke up, "He was my best friend's ex boyfriend. He… He hurt her." 

Dexter paused for a second, locking eyes with you before completing his task and using his thumbs to gently press the sticky edges down onto your skin. 

"I see." was all he said, and the lack of judgement one way or another was oddly comforting, if a bit unnerving. 

You studied him a moment, wondering what could be going through his head at a time like this. 

"A year ago, I confronted him, and things got physical… Someone heard the commotion and called the cops. I testified against him in court…" you trailed off, recalling all the hours of preparation and the eventual ruling, "He slammed my best friend's head into a wall, put her in a coma. You know how many years he got? Two." 

Dexter looked at you, a solemn expression on his face, "I'm sorry." 

You toyed with the hem of his bathrobe, still holding onto some strange delusion that all of this was just a terrible dream. "He had a lot of friends in town. I had to leave… I had to leave Julie behind. I'll never forgive myself for that…"

The corners of your eyes started to fill with tears and you covered your mouth as a sob tried to come spilling out. Dexter used a wash cloth to dry your eyes, taking your hand again. 

"If she knew what you did today, she would thank you. Now he can't hurt anyone else." he said, an attempt at comfort you weren't ready to even hear. 

"No, she wouldn't. I loved her, but she always saw the best in him. I think he made her forget that she didn't deserve what he put her through." you explained, staring off, thinking of that fateful day. "Even before he pushed her, she was telling me to go. I just wonder sometimes if I'd never gone over that day, where she would be…" 

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Dexter insisted, getting you to look back at him. "He was going to continue hurting her no matter what. It's the classic honeymoon cycle, I see it all the time…" 

It was these words that reminded you of a few key details regarding your current situation, "Holy shit, your job! You work for the fucking police! Dexter, what did you do with the body? Wait, I don't wanna know—holy fuck, I killed someone—" 

"Y/N," he repeated your name, anchoring you back down in the middle of your frenzied thoughts. "Take a breath for me, okay?" 

"Okay…" you agreed, doing as he said, breathing deeply in and out. 

When you were calmer, Dexter went on. 

"No one at my job knows anything about this, including Deb. And as long as we stay quiet, they never will." he told you, his conviction having that same mix of calming and slightly disturbing. "He is somewhere no one will ever find him and I burned your clothes. I also went back for your car and cleaned up all the evidence back at the meat-packing plant." 

You stared at him a moment, almost at a loss for words, "Well, that's all well and good but how on earth did you do all that in less than two hours? Wait a second…" you felt a slight chill run up your spine, "Have you done this before?" 

Dexter grew quiet, and you could feel your body growing uneasy. After a few moments, he finally spoke up, "I have… Once or twice, give or take." 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek in apprehension, sensing his hesitance to give you an exact number. You weren't sure you wanted to know. 

"They were just like him. They hurt people too. Women, kids, anyone they could get their hands on… But because of what I did—what you did tonight—they can't hurt anybody anymore." Dexter explained, a genuine hint of pride in his voice. 

You said nothing for a moment, unsure of how to phrase your muddled thoughts. "Shit…" you breathed out, wiping your eyes with a sniffle. "This is all a lot. Just—god…" 

"I know," Dexter affirmed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "But I'm here for you. Anything you need." 

You managed a small smile, lightly squeezing his hand back. A comfortable moment of silence passed between you before you spoke again, "You wanna know what the really fucked up thing about this is?" 

Dexter nodded, prompting you to go on. 

"I don't feel guilty. At least, not at the fact it was him. Does that make me a horrible evil fucking person?" you asked, unsure of what you really wanted to hear in response. 

"I don't think so," said Dexter, cupping your cheek in a strangely tender moment. 

In that instance, something in your brain and in your body clicked. You had just gone through one of the worst things imaginable and here was Dexter, acting as a life preserver in the middle of your sea of confusion and despair. Suddenly, your dynamic had shifted. He was no longer just a distraction from the everyday mundane or an unsteady connection forged by happenstance. Suddenly, he was safety, he was a whole lot of questions but now also answers, and most importantly, he was the only one who could ever know what you'd done. 

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. This caught him off guard at first, but after a second he returned the kiss, cupping your face and pulling you in closer. You readily accepted this, moving forward and off the lip of the bathtub, allowing Dexter to pick you up. 

Carrying you out to the bedroom, he set you down on the edge of the bed. Taking advantage of this, you let the bathrobe slip off your body when you stood, kissing him hard. Dexter eagerly reciprocated, hands coming up to lightly breeze down your arms, still slightly unsure of your boundaries. Still moving against his lips, you guided one hand down to your ass and he groaned gratefully as he gave you a squeeze. 

Your arms looped around his neck, spinning him around so his back was facing the bed. Pulling away momentarily, you tugged at his shirt to get him to take it off. Meanwhile, your fingers worked deftly to undo his pants, the crotch of which was already nicely tented. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and underwear, tugging them both down. His cock sprang free, almost fully hard and red at the tip. You kissed him again, taking hold of his length and stroking it a few times. Dexter moaned softly against your lips, bucking into your hand on reflex. He broke the kiss to look at you, stealing a glance at your naked form before speaking up. 

"Are you sure?" Dexter questioned, and you smiled slightly. 

"Honey, this is the most sure I've been all night." you replied, kissing him once more. 

Whether it was a matter of desperate coping, pent up sexual frustration, or something else you couldn't quite place, you wanted him. Giving Dexter a gentle shove back onto the bed, you climbed on top of him, exploring his mouth with your tongue for a little while before the ache between your legs became too much to bear. 

Breaking away, you crawled up the length of his surprisingly toned body, positioning yourself above his face. Dexter immediately got the hint, grabbing your thighs to bring you closer, and burying his tongue in your pussy. You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair as he lapped at your wetness. If you knew this was what it was like, you'd have taken him to bed far sooner. 

Dexter slid his tongue up and down your slick, sucking skillfully on your clit. 

"Fuck…!" you cried out, grinding against his mouth mindlessly, though by the sounds he was making, he didn't seem to mind. 

Eventually, your head began to swim and your breath came in short, panting gasps, signaling that you were nearing the edge. You groaned, biting your lip as you moved slowly against Dexter's mouth, the added friction finally pushing you to the peak. You called out his name as your orgasm washed over you, your fingers tightening in his hair as he lapped at you through it. Panting, you gave yourself a moment to catch your breath before moving back down to straddle his lap. 

"Fuck, you're good." you muttered breathily, feeling Dexter smirk as you kissed him, and tasting yourself on his lips. 

Rubbing the head of his cock against your wet pussy, you reveled in the low groan that left him, his hips bucking slightly in search of more. You readily gave it to him, sinking down on him after he'd put on a condom. Dexter let out a shaky breath, eyes clamping shut as your tight heat surrounded him. You leaned down, capturing his lips in another long kiss, beginning to slowly grind on his cock. 

Trailing kisses down his jaw and to his neck, you moaned when he began playing with your tits, sucking on one of your nipples and rolling the other between his fingers. Careful to avoid your cut, the extra stimulation made you clench around his cock, earning another pleasured noise from him. Moving your hips at a slow, steady pace, you leaned back, trying to bring him deeper inside you. Dexter moaned, staring up at you in lust and amazement. 

"God, that feels good…" he managed between groans, gripping your hips to meet your downward strokes. 

You rocked your hips, the sounds of your collective moans mixing together. After a while, Dexter flipped your positions so he was on top, thrusting faster as he neared his own orgasm. He kissed you with fervor, and you could help but roam his body with your hands, admiring his strong arms and toned abs. 

Dexter grunted, muttering in your ear as he approached his peak, "I'm gonna cum, fuck…" 

At his words, you clenched around him, making him gasp and moan. Dexter buried his face in your neck, his hips snapping against yours until finally he stilled, cumming hard. As he came down, you ran your fingers through his hair soothingly, panting along with him. 

Both of you spent from the night's events, you quickly cleaned yourselves up and crawled into bed. You laid your head on Dexter's chest, listening to his heart beat slow as he fell asleep. Your eyes grazed over the blinds, watching for movement once again. Some part of you was waiting for Dennis to return, to break down the door and exact his revenge. Whether unconsciously or not, Dexter wrapped his arm around you, a silent act to assure you of your safety with him. Relenting for now, you closed your eyes, willing your body to sleep. Only one question remained in your mind, gnawing and unanswered. 

What had he done to get rid of Dennis? 

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Summary:

You deal with the aftermath of the previous night. Dexter opens up about his past.

Notes:

really enjoying writing this!! thank you all so much for reading/giving feedback :)

You rolled over in bed, the sound of movement in the other room waking you. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, looking around and remembering that you were in Dexter's room. The sun shone through the blinds, illuminating the space in a soft, white light. A start to what would be a perfectly normal day. That is, if last night had never happened. 

Your eyes flicked to the hallway, hearing more movement and the faint smell of coffee. Slipping on the old shirt Dexter lent you and your underwear, you made your way out to the kitchen. There, you found Dexter sipping his morning joe as if nothing had happened at all. Noticing your form in the doorway, he flashed a small smile at you. 

"Morning," he greeted, and you walked closer to him, feeling the cool hardwood beneath your feet. Dexter set down his cup, turning toward the pot. "Coffee?" 

You nodded, sitting down at the counter next to where he had been. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to shake away the fog that seemed to be clouding your brain. Dexter set down a mug in front of you, served just the way you liked it. You smile softly at him. "Thanks." 

Taking a sip, you thanked your lucky stars that you weren't scheduled to work today. No way could you deal with the events of the previous night with the added headache of rude customers and moody coworkers. Then, you remembered something. 

"My phone," you said, recalling what had happened to it and face-palming. "Shit, Amy. We were supposed to go out last night and I never checked in. Could I borrow yours?" 

"Got something even better," Dexter told you, and you quirked an eyebrow at him. Reaching into a bag on the seat next to him, he pulled out a new pre-paid phone in a plastic container. "Picked it up while you were sleeping." 

You looked down at the phone and then back at him, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "You didn't have to do that." 

"I know." he replied, kissing the side of your face before getting up. 

It was only then that you realized he was dressed for work. 

"I gotta get going but feel free to stay here for as long as you want. Just use this key to lock up if you leave." Dexter told you, setting a spare copy on the counter in front of you. 

"Oh, alright. Thank you…" you said, slightly taken aback by his casual demeanor. You hadn't expected him to dote on you the whole day, but it would've been nice to just have him there for a little while. As he walked to the door, you felt the need to at least say something, "Dexter?" 

He turned to you, an expectant look on his face, "Yes?" 

However, your hesitance ultimately won out. 

"Thanks — for the phone." you held up the package, smiling as convincingly as you could. 

"Of course." Dexter repeated your gesture, waving at you briefly before leaving out the door and locking it behind him. 

Staring around the empty now apartment, you were at a loss. He had been so tender and open last night but now, it almost felt like you were strangers again. Perhaps even less than that. But he had done so much for you already, and he had agreed to see you that night. Why then, did things feel so weird between you? 

Tearing the container open, you waited for the new phone to boot up and then dialed Amy's number, hoping she'd pick up. 

"Hello?" she answered after a few rings. 

"Hey, Ames, it's Y/N. I am so sorry I didn't call last night. I got mugged and they took my phone—" you began, lying through your teeth before she cut you off, sounding alarmed. 

"Mugged? Why didn't you let me know sooner? I would've beat the shit out of them for you!" Amy exclaimed, earning a small chuckle from you. It was oddly comforting that she still felt you needed her protection, or that you were worthy of it at all. 

"Aw yeah, I would've but I didn't wanna ruin your night and someone called the police anyway. I went and stayed over at Dexter's after that." you explained, and Amy immediately let out a teasing, 'oooh' like you were in elementary school again talking about crushes. 

"You finally stayed over? You big slut, good for you!" she joked, making both of you burst out laughing. Talking like this with her made everything feel more normal than it actually was. "Are you still over there?" 

"Yeah, I'm gonna head back to our place soon, though." you told her, tracing the rim of your coffee cup. 

"Ooh, I actually have the day off. Wanna get breakfast and debrief?" Amy inquired, and you smiled, relieved that even though your world had been seemingly turned upside down, you still had a real friend you could count on. 

-

After grabbing breakfast with Amy, where she grilled you for details on your night with Dexter (the parts she could know about, at least) and sharing about her own wild night, the two of you went home. 

"So, okay, I know you already had a hell of a night but how do you feel about going out tonight?" Amy proposed as she rummaged through her closet. You sat on her bed, having been recruited to help her choose an outfit. As you opened your mouth to protest, she cut you off, adding, "It'll be a big group and we can all be your bodyguards for the night!" 

You chuckled, appreciating the thought, "Well, that's very sweet but I was gonna go see Dexter and I—"

"Oh, invite him too!" she interrupted again, giving you her best puppy dog eyes when you started to object, "Please? It'd be reallyyy fun!" 

You laughed at her sing-song tone of voice, shrugging to yourself. Maybe it would help to get things off your mind. "Oh, alright." 

"Great!" Amy cheered, her attention immediately reverting back to her search for an outfit, "Does this cami go with this black bubble skirt?" 

-

It wasn't often that you got drunk, having already gone through your party phase with Julie and abandoning it soon after what happened with her. Yet, there you were, two drinks and three shots in, swaying arrhythmically with Amy in the middle of the club to Christina Aguilera on full blast.  

"Are you having fun?!" shouted Amy over the music and the noise, laughing at your hazy expression and affirmative thumbs up. Just then, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. 

"Be right back!" you yelled to Amy, pointing to the front entrance and hoping she could glean what you meant. 

Making your way through the crowd, you eventually found a mostly quiet space just outside. You picked up the phone, not bothering to look at who was calling. 

"Hey, it's Dexter. Just checking in." he said on the other line, making you smile. 

"Dex, hi! I'm good, I'm really good…" you slurred, giggling at seemingly nothing. 

"Y/N, where are you?" Dexter asked, sounding a little concerned. 

"I dunno. Where am I?" you turned around to glance at the front of the building, reading its sign. "It's called 'The Box' I guess. Hm, that's a funny name…" 

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Drink some water." he told you, and you simply chuckled. 

"Alright, Dad. I'll definitely do that." you answered, laughing at your own joke. 

Before he hung up, Dexter requested that you stay put and you reluctantly agreed. You sat down on the ground, rubbing your eyes, still very drunk. Looking up at the sky, you saw there was a full moon among the blanket of stars and tiny, blinking satellite flares. You smiled for a moment, realizing just how small you were in the grand scheme of things. Back on earth, however, you were reminded of what you had done and the people (if just as unsavory as Dennis) you might've affected. The thought was certainly sobering. Before you could linger on it too long, Dexter was walking up to you. 

"Hi…" you said sheepishly, now feeling a little embarrassed by how you'd acted over the phone. 

"Hey," he replied softly, holding out his hand to help you up. "You alright?" 

Now on your feet, you pondered his question a moment, sighing, "Yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to come, you know." 

Dexter took your hand, repeating his earlier sentiment, "I know." 

You chewed at your bottom lip, torn between your own feelings, "I didn't say anything, if that's what you were worried about." 

"I wasn't worried about that," he told you, his implied meaning throwing you into a mix of confusion and longing again. You took your hand away. 

"I don't get it." you confessed, the way you looked at him conveying your conflicted emotions. 

Dexter furrowed his brows, seeming to miss this, "Don't get what?" 

"You," you clarified, gesturing emphatically, "I don't get you, Dexter. One minute you're this sweet, amazing, reliable guy and the next—it's like you're a stranger…" 

You could feel tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, and it took everything in you not to crumble where you stood. Dexter hesitated, momentarily speechless at your words. Then, he went to take your hand again, and this time, you let him. Your eyes were downcast, focused on the point at which you were connected. 

"Come with me," Dexter pleaded, and you looked up at him, "I'll explain everything." 

You considered this a moment, studying his face. From what you could tell, he seemed sincere. 

"Alright." you agreed, hoping this wasn't a mistake on your part. 

-

You soon arrived back at Dexter's apartment, a short, but nearly silent ride, save for the sounds of distant night life and the occasional drag race passing through. Following him inside, you almost wish you had another drink handy, just to take the (very palpable) edge off. Dexter sat down on the living room sofa, patting the seat next to him like a parent gearing up to give their child the dreaded 'talk.' You (somewhat reluctantly) complied. 

"I told you I was adopted, didn't I?" he said after a few moments. 

"Yeah," you confirmed, unsure as to where this was headed. 

Dexter looked down at the floor, deliberately avoiding eye contact before continuing, "Well, before that, my parents were in a horrible accident, Harry never told me many details… But they died. And after that… Harry said I was changed, different. That…" he seemed to pause, holding back what had to be difficult to put into words. 

You frowned upon hearing this and put your hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles on it. 

"I'm sorry, Dexter. I had no idea." you said softly, and he faced you again, giving you a weak smile before going on. 

"Harry said ever since that day, there's been a darkness inside of me…" Dexter admitted, his eyes briefly flicking to yours to scan for judgement. When he saw none, he went on, "And for so long, I've hidden it. Whether through fake smiles or always bringing doughnuts to work… None of it was real. But since I met you, and especially after last night, I've been feeling things more than ever before." 

You stared at each other, a silent understanding forming between you. 

"You were numb…" you offered, cupping his cheek and stroking it gently with your thumb. 

"I understand if you don't wanna see me—" Dexter began but you cut him off, pressing your lips against his in a kiss that lasted a few glorious seconds. 

"Your past doesn't have to define you, though. It's what you—what we do now—that counts. You being vulnerable with me, telling me what's going on in your head, that's all I really wanted." you explained, pulling him into a hug where he returned your earlier gesture, rubbing your back. Eventually, you pulled away, feeling more at ease than you had in the last 24 hours, "Just keep being honest with me, okay?" 

You chuckled softly, burying your face in his chest. Dexter laughed weakly, wearing a look of apprehension on his face, that was, like so many other things, completely unseen by you… 

Chapter 8: St. Therese

Summary:

Some unfortunate news sends you and Dexter on a road trip to your hometown. You make an unexpected discovery in Dexter's apartment that makes you question his honesty.

Notes:

you thought you'd seen the last of me?

haha no jk this has been in the works a long time i just kept getting sidetracked and blah blah blah lol

i hope you enjoy this though! i hope to have the next chapter out much sooner than this one and thank you for the continued interest in this story! i appreciate all of you :)

~h

You'd have liked to say things got easier after that night but as with most things in your life lately, it didn't. 

It was strange going back to work, but the monotony provided you some structure, at least. What you couldn't account for were your dreams. Or nightmares, really. 

They were a different iteration of the event, often with a gruesome twist. Sometimes Julie was there, her horrified face looking back at you. Most times it was only Dennis'. 

Being with Dexter was about the only time you felt even somewhat normal. Though, as of late, he had been harder to get ahold of. You would wake up in a cold sweat late at night and call him, asking if you could stay the night but somehow, he'd find a way to talk you down and convince you that it wasn't necessary. Still, you had your worries. Was he pushing you away? Here you were thinking you'd grown closer these past few weeks only to put at arms length again. 

Then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, you came upon a familiar name in your hometown's online obituaries. You knew it was morbid to check it so constantly, but you hadn't kept in touch with Julie's family and this was the only way you could get any sort of update regarding her condition. 

Beloved daughter, friend, and community member, Julia Sykes, 29, has died. "Julie" Sykes, daughter of Helen and Daniel Sykes passed away on December 8th, 2005 in her sleep from an ongoing medical condition. She is survived by her parents, older brother, Michael, and younger brother, Joseph. Sykes worked as a vet tech for Surewood County Animal Hospital, helping many local pet owners. As such, she loved animals, being outdoors, biking, and spending time with her family and friends. She will be greatly missed by her loved ones. Services will be held this Saturday at St. Therese Church at 5 pm. 

Your eyes burned, whether from exhaustion or sadness or both as you read it over and over to yourself. 'Medical condition' was one way to put it, though you didn't expect her parents to include the true cause of her death. It wasn't as if they needed to, everyone in town knew already, anyway. The rest was well put, memories of riding your bikes through your old neighborhood flashing in your mind. Feeling the wind flooding past you, watching the streetlights turn on, and knowing it was time to head home. Helping Julie nurse a kitten back to health after finding it behind a dumpster at an ice cream shop you used to frequent. Watching her get ready for her first date with Dennis. 

Thinking on that, something in you seemed to snap. You sprung up from your bed, frantically throwing on the first clothes you could get your hands on and rushing out to your car. You drove until you reached Dexter's apartment, ignoring the pang of conflict you felt at the sight of his darkened windows. You checked your watch. 1:34 am. A part of you worried that he wasn't home at all, but upon spotting his car as you got out of yours, you were relieved. You tried not to feel guilty about potentially waking him and his neighbors as you ran up the steps to his door. You knocked hard enough for him to hear, panting as you waited for an answer. After a moment, you got one. 

"Hey, what're you—" asked Dexter groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stood in the doorway. 

"I need to talk to you." was all you said, placing a hand on his chest as you passed by him and into his apartment. Something had taken over you and you had no time for the usual niceties. 

"Alright," he replied, closing the door behind you and turning around. "Did something happen?" 

You sat at the edge of his desk, twiddling your thumbs anxiously before looking up at him. 

"She's dead… Julie, she's dead." you told him, the words sounding strange to say out loud. 

There was a brief silence like the ones you may hold at an actual funeral. 

"Shit… I'm sorry. Can I—can I get you anything?" Dexter asked, walking over to you, brushing his hands up and down your arms soothingly. You remained in a trance, stuck on a one-track thought you couldn't get off. You looked up at him, searching for a sign that this was a good idea. 

"Will you come to her funeral with me? It's this Saturday." you explained, gnawing at the inside of your lower lip, hoping desperately that he'd say yes. You would go by yourself, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't have to. Dexter considered this for a moment, making you think he was trying to come up with an excuse not to go but his next words surprised you. 

"Of course," he said softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "How are you holding up?" 

You looked up at him, the tears that had threatened to spill earlier finally welling in your eyes. You didn't cry out—you couldn't—too emotionally exhausted to even do that much so you simply buried your face in his chest. Dexter wrapped his arms around you, smoothing your rustled hair down with his hand in an attempt to further comfort you. You grasped onto him as if you would fall if you let go, and with how little you had been taking care of yourself, you just might've. 

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." you heard him say softly, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to his bedroom. There, he laid you down, pulling the covers over you before slipping in beside you. You turned towards him, clinging onto him once more, his warm skin drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

"I'm sorry," you muttered, letting out a small, broken laugh in spite of all the emotions stirring inside you. "I'm such a mess…" 

A sympathetic smile flashed on Dexter's face, "You're not a mess." 

Even if he were lying, it managed to get a little smile out of you as he tucked your head under his chin and began to stroke your hair again. 

"Try to get some sleep, hm?" he said softly, releasing his hold on you slightly to allow you to get comfortable, though you were already pretty cozy where you were. Even so, something else gnawed at you. 

"Will you stay?" you found yourself asking, your request sounding almost childlike in nature. 

Like you were a kid again and your biggest fear was of monsters hiding in your closet. How funny that even after you'd grown up and had to slay the beasts yourself, they still wouldn't leave you alone. Waking or asleep, Dennis had invaded your thoughts. Images of him choking on his own blood as you drove your knife into him repeatedly seemed to play on a constant loop in your head. You had wanted him dead for what he'd done to Julie and you weren't sad he was gone, but a sense of dread still wracked you. To be responsible for taking another's life, even a bad person, even when it was to save your own, felt almost too much to bear. You wanted—needed some kind of reassurance that throughout this horrific chapter of your life, Dexter would actually be there. 

"Of course." was all he said, kissing the top of your head and gently rubbing the back of your neck, which you didn't realize was so tense. 

Too tired to question it further, you took his answer at face value, cuddling closer to him and finally falling into a deep slumber. 

-

True to his word, Dexter was there when you awoke. 

Slowly stirring from your sleep, you turned to find him sitting upright beside you in bed, fully dressed. You frowned slightly, forgetting it was a weekday and he still had work. 

"Hey, good morning." he greeted, his voice uncharacteristically soft and soothing as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Sleep okay?" 

"Yeah, I did, actually," you replied, and were glad it was the truth todd once. "I hope I didn't move around too much. Sometimes I do." 

"I didn't notice if you did," Dexter reassured, his thumb gently running over your cheek. You allowed yourself to lean into his touch for a moment, even intertwining your fingers with his before his eyes were glancing down at his watch. "I should get going, but I made you a little breakfast if you're hungry. Use this if you need to leave for a bit or something." 

He held up a small gold key to you before placing it on the bedside table next to you. You smiled slightly, nodding in understanding. A spare to his apartment? The only consistent thing about Dexter was just how unpredictable he could be. With that, he kissed you gently and bid you goodbye, leaving you alone in his bedroom once more. You sighed to yourself, your spirits at least somewhat lifted by a stretch of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares and a companion to accompany you to Julie's funeral. 

After a quick rinse off and the bagel Dexter had left you, you went searching for a jacket or a shirt you could borrow from him, recalling in past relationships where tokens like that had always put you at ease. You could use something like that for when you couldn't be with one another. Pulling the closet door open, you began to sift through what seemed like an endless supply of light-colored button ups and khaki pants. Not ideal 'steal-your-boyfriend's-clothes' material. Looking up, you pulled a box stowed on a shelf out partially to see if it held old clothes but cursed when it slipped off the shelf, spilling the contents onto the floor. 

Getting on your hands and knees, you started to pick everything up, seeing that it had held various photo albums from years past. You smiled at a picture of young Dexter at the beach with Deb and their parents. He couldn't have been older than ten, his fluffy hair tousled from the breeze with a somewhat forced-looking smile on his face. You wondered what had happened leading up the picture being taken to put him in such a mood. Or about his childhood in general. Had he ever gone looking for more details about his parent's fates? 

You hummed to yourself, knowing it was none of your business, despite your curiosity. As you put everything back in the box, you scooted forward on the floor to grab one photo that had fallen deeper in the closet and called out in pain when your knee connected with the corner of something hard and wooden. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, rubbing your knee as you investigated the object further. It was a large wooden chest with a lock on the front of it. You wondered for a moment what could be inside but thinking back on your prior conversations, you already had a pretty good idea. 

That was something you had been avoiding ever since Dexter had confessed to you that fateful night. Supposedly, he had killed before then, as well. Once or twice, he'd said. But what would facilitate needing a trunk this big full of god knows what so readily available to him? What else could he have hiding in plain sight around here? Had he intended for you to come across it? You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. Part of you wanted to bolt, leave Dexter and all of this behind you. But another part, one that had seemingly grown from everything you'd experienced since you'd met him, willed you to stay. 

You stowed the photo album box away and shoved the wooden chest back in place before heading out, grabbing the spare key to lock the door behind you. 

You were going to confront him about all of it, but not now. All you were concerned about was getting through Julie's service without a hitch. What would her parents say when they saw you? Will they even want you there? You assumed they would have sent you an invitation if they had known your new address. Tabling your worries for the time being, you headed home to pack, for once grateful that Amy wasn't there. She had more than likely heard you leave late last night and you weren't in the mood for an interrogation. Laying back on your bed, you decided to stay put until Dexter got off work. Your most recent discovery made his apartment far less relaxing than it had previously been, anyway. 

Hours later, you made your way back over to his place, opting to wait outside his door, leaning over the railing with a cigarette between your fingers. 

Dexter called up to you from the parking lot a moment later, "Those'll kill you, you know."

You allowed yourself a chuckle, appreciating his effort at leaven the mood a bit. 

"Lots of things will." you retorted, quirking an eyebrow at him as he came up the stairs to join you. 

Dexter simply kissed your cheek and unlocked the door, with you following suit after disposing of your cigarette. A bad habit, you knew, but you’d been more than a little stressed lately. 

"I'll just be a second." he told you, walking into his bedroom to grab his bag. 

You nodded wordlessly, hoping the small smile was convincing enough. Although with what he'd told you about his day-to-day life, Dexter could probably spot a faked emotion a mile away. 

Oh well, you thought—you were grieving—you were allowed to act a little off. Expected to, even. And in truth, you probably were. You had been so consumed with the Dennis situation and the revelations about Dexter that you hadn't properly taken in the fact that Julie was no longer on this earth. However, in a way, she hadn't been for a long time. 

In the past, knowing she was still alive but essentially trapped inside her own mind was a strange source of both pain and comfort. On one hand, Julie had survived the attack but on the other, she had been stripped of all autonomy. She would never laugh at your shitty jokes after one too many drinks or lie and say it was 'only a little further' when you would grow tired on a long hike. There were no future plans to visit friends who lived across the country or to stop at the new coffee shop in town. There was only your treasured past and the present waking nightmare you found yourself in. 

Dexter said your name, snapping you out of your thoughts. He stood before you, a small duffel in his grasp, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and concern, "You ready to go?" 

You shook your head as if to clear it, "Yeah, sorry. I was just—zoning, you know?" 

Dexter gave you a knowing nod, touching your shoulder gently and leaning in to kiss your forehead. Wow—you thought—he had the doting boyfriend act down-pat. In the past few weeks, you had noticed the stilted, albeit carefully considered kisses, hugs, words of comfort had slowly become more natural from him. If you weren't so unsure of his true motives, this development might've made you happy but as it stood, it only furthered your distrust of him. And it brought a question to the forefront of your mind. 

Had anything with Dexter been real? 

You push these thoughts away like many others circling your mind and give him a peck on the lips, taking his hand as you both walked out the door. 

-

The flight was relatively short, though you didn't recall much of it, apparently having fallen asleep not long after you'd boarded by Dexter's account. 

"You're pretty cute when you're asleep." he said as you exited the terminal to wait for the car you'd ordered. 

You couldn't help but chuckle, raising an eyebrow at him. Such a phrase would be creepy coming from most others, but with Dexter, it's actually kind of sweet. This thought is quelled by the sudden flashback to that night, his secretiveness, and the wooden chest. Sometimes he could be so disarming that you'd forget all about the fact that in addition to helping you hide a body, he'd also admitted that he had killed, as well. You supposed that with most men like him, that was the point. 

You must've had a dower look on your face as Dexter had been on the verge of asking what was wrong when the car pulled up. Glad to be spared from making up an excuse, at least for the moment, you and Dexter slid into the back of the vehicle without a word. It was only a short trip to the hotel you'd booked and you were glad to have a real bed to stretch out on. You're too tired to put on pajamas, only managing to strip down to a tank top and your underwear before crawling under the covers. The air is a lot cooler than in Miami, actually necessitating them for once. You can't help but shiver, your teeth audibly chattering before you tighten your jaw to stop it. 

"You cold?" asked Dexter as he slipped into bed next to you. 

"A bit." is all you say, voice barely above a whisper. 

Dexter wrapped his arms around you from behind, and you let him, his body heat too good of an offer to pass up. Slowly, you drift off, the vague feeling of a hand stroking your shoulder helping to lull you to sleep. 

-

You don't wake until about 9:30 the next day, the red light of the bedside alarm clock telling you as much. The sound of the shower being shut off makes you realize the space beside you in bed is empty. You sit up, rubbing your eyes right as Dexter opens the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth. Turning away for a moment, he spits and rinses before looking back at you. 

"Hey, you're awake. Sleep okay?" he asked, giving you a slight smile. You didn't know exactly how, but you sensed he knew there was a shift in your dynamic, that you'd grown more distant. Now, it was like he was trying his best to convince you to return to your previous arrangement: you, the wrecked, guilt-ridden girl and he, the strong, experienced killer who would take care of you. Too bad for him—you had no interest in going back. 

You nodded, forcing your lips to mirror his expression, though smiling was the last thing you felt like doing. After breakfast at a nearby diner where you barely managed to get down a few bites of pancakes, you revealed your plan to Dexter. 

"I was thinking of going to Julie's childhood house. Pay my respects to her folks, you know?" you told him, even as you felt your guts twist in anxiety over their possible reaction to seeing you. Dexter must've sensed this as he reached across the table and placed his hand over yours. 

"Whatever you think is best." was all he said, and you could tell it was an earnest attempt at comfort from him. 

Going against your recent conviction to ice him out, you allowed a genuine smile to break out on your face. Dexter squeezed your hand, perhaps feeling a bit more sure of where he stood with you. Although he still didn't realize you weren't going to let go of your earlier plans to confront him about the chest, and whatever else he wasn't telling you. 

It was a short trip to your old neighborhood. As the driver passed through the beat up old streets, you pointed out to Dexter old friend's houses and where you last knew them to be in life. Most of the neighborhood had gone unchanged. There was some rather gaudy remodeling here and there but overall, the essence of it was intact. 

A majority of the trees that lined the houses still stood and even the corner store you and Julie would walk up to nearly every day after school was still thriving. Gaggles of school-aged kids walked up and down the sidewalks, many with keys hung on string around their necks. This was the way it'd been with you and Julie, your parents only request that you both be home before the street lights came on. 

The driver dropped you off only a few houses over from Julie's, though you didn't mind the extra time this gave you to compose yourself. You hadn't realized until you got out of the car that you were shaking, being forced to grab onto Dexter's arm to steady yourself. 

You muttered a brief apology but Dexter simply shook his head, gently rubbing your back and allowing his hand to rest over your shoulder as you began your short walk. As the familiar house and its blooming gardenia bushes came into view, you were suddenly very grateful he was there with you. Making your way up the brick steps, your eyes flickered over a bouquet of white lilies that had been left by the door. Your heart dropped. You'd been so worried about how things might go with Julie's parents, you didn't even think to get flowers for them. Although you didn't think he was paying attention, you were a bit surprised when Dexter reached down a carefully plucked a handful of the flowers from the bunch and tied them with a piece of twine he'd had on hand. 

"Just say you must've had the same idea." he offered up as an explanation, handing them over to you. 

You found yourself smiling again, this time through tears that you had only just realized were starting to fall. Wiping them away as best you could, you took a deep breath in and out before ringing the doorbell. As you waited, you looked over at Dexter, nudging him lightly in the ribs. 

"Thanks… For being here and everything." you said, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly before giving your forehead a light peck. He faltered a moment, opening his mouth to speak when the door finally opened. 

In the doorway stood a teenage boy, no more than fourteen, a brand new Nintendo DS clutched in his right hand. He was still in his pajamas, his wavy brown hair a tousled mess atop his head. You knew this to be Julie's younger brother, Joey, only he looked far different since you last saw him. He was significantly taller, perhaps from a recent growth spurt and he was sporting just the faintest mustache across his upper lip. It was a bit jarring to see him this way, the image of him as a small, rambunctious little boy still stuck in your mind. His dark brown eyes squinted for a moment as he looked at you before recognition struck him. Joey didn't even speak to you directly, instead turning his head to shout into the house, 

"Mom! She's back!" 

Well, that was one way to make an entrance… 

Chapter 9: Home

Summary:

You attend Julie's funeral; tempers and emotions flare.

Notes:

chap title may change - this took a while but i’m happy to put something new out! will edit later, thanks for reading!

~h

You smiled sheepishly the moment the words left his mouth, feeling awkward and as though your mere presence was an intrusion. Dexter gave your hand a squeeze, trying to wordlessly reassure you. 

"What were you saying, Joey? Oh, my!" exclaimed Julie's mother, Helen Sykes when she came to the door and saw you standing there. The force with which she embraced you was nearly enough to knock you off your feet, especially with your recent lapse in proper self-care. "Oh, honey! I'm so glad you're here, but how did you find out?" 

Her question gave your heart a pang of guilt. You had fled so quickly and so completely from your past that you had left every connection behind, too. 

"Online, actually. There was a post about it." you explained, her eyes flashing with recognition. 

"Oh, I bet that was Michael. He's a lot better at that computer stuff than me." said Helen, a small laugh escaping her, as if she only just remembered what had brought that acknowledgment on. Just then, she noticed the flowers in your hand. "You're too sweet, love. C'mon in so we can get these some water and you can introduce me to this handsome man you brought along." 

You chuckled softly, turning to Dexter and taking his hand to lead him into the house. When you entered, it was as if all the air had been knocked out of you. Even the smell of their house—an unnameable scent—more like the essence of home and childhood managed to break your heart. All the photos were in the same places, however, as you passed through the foyer, there was a sole framed photo of Julie on a small table by the phone. 

As Helen placed the lilies into a small glass vase in the middle of the already full table of flowers, you introduced Dexter as your boyfriend. It was strange to think that in all this time and after everything that happened, that had been the first time you'd done so. You weren't even sure how to accurately describe your relationship anymore, but the label was the easiest explanation. 

"You're sweet to come today. Good to know someone has been taking care of our other little girl." said Helen to Dexter, making you smile sadly, trying not to tear up. "'Cuz, that—that's what you are, 'darlin. You and Julie are our girls—" her words are quickly cut off by a sudden sob, and that is what breaks your resolve, too. 

You sat down beside Helen, not even attempting any words of comfort, instead pulling her in for a hug. You both knew better than anyone that nothing anybody could say would make it better in that moment. There's a long moment where all you can do is cling to one another, bonded by your shared history and love of Julie. After a moment, you both pulled away, and did your best to calm yourselves down. Dexter found a tissue box hidden beneath a bouquet of azaleas and slid them toward you. You smiled slightly, taking one and passing another to Helen. 

"I knew this day would come but it's still so hard…" the older woman eventually said, dabbing the corners of her eyes. You nodded in understanding, lips pressed into a tight line of unease and sadness. Then, you felt that same guilt prodding at your heart. 

"I should've been here. I'm so sorry…" you trailed off, unsure of what else to say when Helen shook her head. 

"No, I get why you left. It was just devastating to see her like that and after what you went through that day…" she reassured, conjuring images of Dennis slamming Julie into a wall and the fight that had followed between you two. Helen patted your hand softly, "Well, I'm just glad you're here. Daniel's in his study right now but I know he'd love to see you at the service. Michael's—"

"Right here. Hey, hun." said Julie's older brother, Michael as he entered the kitchen through the back door. He was almost exactly as you remembered—tall, and well–built with dark green eyes like his mother's, though there was something different to them, sadder. In addition to his bright, chemically-dyed blonde hair, he sported the same dark circles as you and despite being physically strong, his usual charisma and playful demeanor seemed especially subdued. While this wasn't unusual given the circumstances, you wondered if Julie's hospitalization and subsequent death had permanently altered him like it had for you. 

Michael crossed the room and opened his arms when he reached you. Instinctively, you rose to your feet and embraced him, probably squeezing him a little too hard. He let out a slightly strained laugh as you did, almost certainly confirming this. When you both pulled away, you couldn't help but chuckle as you wiped the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. Since you were little kids, Michael had always been the cool, if not incredibly sassy older brother who seemed to know everything about the world outside your small town. He was especially knowledgeable about fashion, music, and art—something that often made him the target of ridicule at school. 

Towards the end of his senior year of high school, he was outed as being gay. Seeing how upset it made him, you and Julie, then only twelve years old, snuck out to egg the house of the snotty girl who had orchestrated it. You two hadn't realized the Simpson's had motion censor lights and were almost caught, only saved by some unfortunate groups of kids lighting up in a nearby alley. They had taken the blame for your actions and although Michael scolded you when you told him what happened, you could tell he was touched by your efforts. 

When you pulled away, you both couldn't help but chuckle, partly for not having seen each other in almost a year and partly to take the edge off of the situation. Helen excused herself shortly after to go check on Daniel, leaving the three of you alone in the kitchen. 

"Is this your boyfriend?" inquired Michael, mouthing the word 'cute' to you, reminding you of his trademark playfulness. You laughed a little, noting the polite chuckle Dexter gave, as well. 

"Dexter, meet Michael. Michael, meet Dexter." you introduced as they both shook hands and exchanged 'nice to meet you's.' 

"I'm sorry for your loss." said Dexter, hitting all the right points along the supportive boyfriend act. 

"Thank you. Julie was always the put-together one of the family. Guess my parents will have to settle for me now." quipped Michael, his tone dry and tinged with the true sadness he was holding back. Something told you he wasn't all cried out just yet, however. You had thought the same for yourself just a few days prior and then Julie's death had jolted you right back into that miserable, spiraling state. 

"Oh, well, I wasn't sure if you were coming but I wanted to make sure you had a chance to look through everything if you did. It took a lot to keep Aunt Susan from raiding her room when the news broke. You feeling up to it?" asked Michael, gesturing with his thumb towards Julie's room. 

You looked over his shoulder in the direction of your best friend's childhood room. She hadn't been living at home in the last few years so you knew it had to be relatively untouched. Your heart pounded in your chest and you jumped slightly when you felt Dexter take your hand in his. You knew he was just trying to be comforting but somehow, with everything that was going on and his recent dishonesty, the gesture only set you more on edge. 

"Please." was all you managed to get out after a few seconds, squeezing Dexter's hand before breaking away, trying to make it seem natural. Michael led you over, though you hardly needed a reminded of where things were located in the house.

Michael turned the knob slowly, letting the door creak open to reveal a room practically frozen in the mid-90s with its black checker rug and whimsigoth bed-spread, the anthropomorphic sun staring daggers into you. 

"I'll leave you two crazy kids alone." said Michael, pulling out a cigarette from his shirt pocket before slipping back out the back door. 

You and Dexter exchanged looks before you stepped inside, him following in after you cautiously. Your eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. Almost everything you remembered remained, save for the numerous labeled boxes littering the floor. You had tried to help clear out her apartment but you couldn't force yourself through the doorway. It was just too painful. 

The windowsill was cluttered with old figurines and a few misplaced CDs, one of which was titled 'Summer Mix '94'. You smiled sadly to yourself. On a table next to Julie's extensive music collection sat a box of assorted VHS tapes and one of those singing jewelry boxes with a dancing ballerina inside. 

You picked up the jewelry box, popping the small gold clasp open and immediately setting off the music at the point it left off. It only played a few seconds, but it was enough to make your heart ache. Your fingers found a thin, silver ring with a capital 'J' attached to its face. You placed the box back down, sliding the ring onto the same finger that held your own initial-emblazoned ring. They had been a recent purchase, picked up on a road trip where you stopped by a local gem faire. 

You turned to face Dexter, realizing you had probably been silent for quite some time. He was just standing there, glancing around the room, inspecting a large poster above Julie's bed of late 90s heartthrob, River Phoenix. You walked over to him, sitting on the bed and upon his notice, Dexter joined you. Another moment of silence. 

"So, what would Aunt Susan want from here?" questioned Dexter, getting a chuckle out of you. 

"God, who knows… I think she just enjoys being in the middle of something tragic." you answered with a wave of your hand. You paused, looking around the room once more. "You know, I thought coming in here would make me feel better but… It doesn't." 

The silence resumed, but this time it didn't feel as awkward. Rather, it felt like Dexter was giving your words time to land because he knew how much this all meant to you. Or at least that was your hopeful interpretation. 

"Is that all you're gonna take?" he finally asked, pointing to the ring on your finger. 

You looked around the room once more. There were many more important things that could be taken as mementos—a box of spiral notebooks you and Julie had used to write short stories and plays in, a digital camera from a field trip with undeveloped film, her favorite red leather jacket. You sighed, shaking your head. 

"I think if I start sorting through everything, I'll just end up wanting to take it all. Plus, I bet Julie's mom has plans for some of it, anyway." you added as an afterthought, though you knew Dexter wouldn't question your reasoning. The truth was, you didn't feel you deserved to take anything else. You hadn't done a good enough job protecting her life, so why should you get to remember it as anything other than something you failed to save? 

"Where did you get—" Dexter had begun but you interrupted him, accidentally blurting out your desire to leave. 

"I'm sorry—it's just this room, this house—it kinda gets to me, you know?" you admitted, getting up from the bed and smoothing your hair anxiously. 

"I understand." said Dexter, joining you. 

You both walked to the door, but you hesitated for a moment to close it behind you, stealing one last look around the room before you did. Michael was back in the kitchen when you reentered, wearing a black suit you could've sworn belonged to his father at some point. You would've expected him to bring something from his extensive collection of finery, but more than likely, he was wearing it to make his mother happy. 

"Find anything special?" he asked, his voice sounding rougher, as it often did right after he smoked. You smiled a bit, holding up your hand to show him the two rings. Michael smiled a little, too. "My folks and Joey went up to the church a little early, said they needed to talk to the priest about something." 

You nodded, and then looked at the rooster clock on the wall above the stove. The service was set to start in about twenty minutes. St. Therese's was about a ten minute walk from the house. You invited Michael to walk with you but he declined, telling you there were still a few things he needed to do before the funeral. Taking this to mean he wanted to be alone, you didn't press him. 

The late afternoon sun shone down on the two of you as you departed the house, traveling south towards the church. On the way there, you passed your old high school, your eyes lingering on the empty football field and the school buildings, with their peeling white paint, barely covering patches where kids had signed their names and the year they were there. If you looked close enough, you bet you would see yours and Julie's. 

"Never thought I'd miss high school…" you muttered, and Dexter gave you a sympathetic smile. You bit your lip, searching for some way to get your relationship back to some sense of normalcy, though you were unsure if it could really be done. "Were you sad when your dad died?" 

Dexter looked a little taken aback by the question, pausing a moment to collect himself. 

"Of course," he finally replied, following it up with, "But by that point, we had known it was coming for a while. Harry had a lot of vices." 

You frowned, taking slower strides beside him to prolong the way a little. 

"But that doesn't make it hurt any less." you put forth, and Dexter nodded his head in agreement. 

"Why do you ask?" he questioned just as you reached the church. 

"No reason." you answered, glad for the disruption as you watched a rather large crowd file into the church. 

"Seems a lot of people miss your friend." commented Dexter as you stared in momentary surprise. It had to be a least half the town, maybe a little more. You sighed to yourself. No one seemed to care much when Julie had been injured, some even blamed her for it. She had it coming for being with a man like Dennis, they'd said.

"They don't miss her. They're just trying to kill their guilt." you said back, your tone tinged with anger and frustration. Dexter said nothing in return, simply rubbing your back softly as you entered the church. You felt your breath catch in your throat at the sight of the coffin, burying your face in Dexter's chest as tears overwhelmed you. Even closed and at least fifteen feet away, the sight of it and the knowledge that Julie was inside were enough to break your fragile strength. 

You could feel a few pairs of eyes on you, and you wondered if anyone had seen your face yet. The way it probably looked now—puffy and tear-streaked—made you want to stay huddled in Dexter's embrace permanently. Eventually, you caught your breath enough to pull away and sit down, wiping your tears with a tissue from an elderly woman next to you. 

Although you wished you could sit with the Sykes' at the front of the church, you had only managed to take a seat in the pews closest to the door. Dexter's hand rested on top of yours, keeping you grounded to the spot, despite your urge to hop over the pew and run out the door. Just before the priest started his homily, you caught the eye of Daniel Sykes. You gave him a sad smile and he nodded in return. Even when she was alive, Julie and her father had a somewhat fraught relationship. He was always pushing her towards the next goal or achievement, leaving her to question if anything she could do would be good enough. 

As the priest spoke, you felt yourself looking around the room, marking down in your mind who had shown up and who was absent. Everyone you'd gone to high school with who hadn't left after graduation—so nearly all of them—were in attendance. Girls who had called you sluts in the halls, past teachers who you were sure hated both you and Julie, as well as boys who never even acknowledged you were there. Most sat quietly, respectfully, but others stifled big, overdramatic sobs into their monogrammed handkerchiefs. You bit your lip to stop from chuckling, though Dexter noticed the hint of a smile on your face. 

"Something wrong?" he whispered softly. Your smile faded. Yes, you wanted to scream at him, everything was wrong. You were at your best friend's funeral with the guy who helped cover up her assaulter's murder at your hands. Instead, you just shook your head, drawing your attention back towards the front of the room. The priest was just finishing up his sermon, and had opened the podium up to those who wished to speak. To your surprise, Joey volunteered first. Part of you worried for what he was going to say, sensing his earlier anger and disengagement from the world. Although he wasn't alone in those feelings. Surprising you again, his speech was heartfelt and you could feel the whole room tearing up by the end of it. 

"Julie was my big sister, and even though I was a pain in the ass to her most of the time, you could always tell how much she really cared. I'll never stop missing her. Thank you." Joey finished up, and there was a respectful round of applause following it. You smiled a little when you caught Helen give Joey a light swat on the arm for cursing, followed by a kiss on the cheek and one of her crushing hugs. The rest of Julie's immediate family spoke, Helen managing to make it through even as she was sobbing toward the end. Michael and Daniel joined her then, comforting her as they brought her back to her seat. A few other relatives, colleagues, and old classmates spoke afterward, though you could hardly remember a thing they said, an anxious feeling swirling in your chest the whole time. 

"Is there anyone else who would like to speak before we close?" the elderly priest's voice asked, shooting small daggers into your heart. 

Still, something in you—a strength you didn't realize you had—willed you to stand. You gave Dexter a look that told him it was alright when he caught your hand as you passed by him. Nodding, he released you and on slightly shaky legs, partly from the apprehension and partly from the cheap black heels you wore—you strode to the front of the church. 

You kept your eyes forward, avoiding the stares and whispers of recognition, only breaking to gaze down at Julie's sleek, white coffin before taking the podium. Next to it, stood a photo of Julie at her college graduation, the lighter tones in her dark, curly hair emphasized by the sunlight overhead. Her warm brown eyes were lit up like the rest of her face, complimenting her true, candid smile. 

"Miss?" prompted the priest softly, cuing you into the fact that you had probably been staring silently for at least a minute or two. 

"Sorry. Uh, hello, everyone," you took a moment to collect yourself, trying to think of how to start. Finally, you spoke again, "As some of you may know, I was a good friend of Julie's. Friend—that word never seemed like enough to truly describe our connections to one another. I didn't grow up with any siblings of my own but Julie was very much like a sister to me. We'd share clothes, and music, and probably drive our parents crazy staying up so late playing M.A.S.H." 

There was laughter from a couple people in the audience, including Helen and Michael. 

You flashed a small smile before going on, "That isn't what made our relationship so special, though. It was always being there for one another, no matter the situation… I sometimes wonder if towards the end, I followed through on that…" you admitted, and you tried to ignore the reactions from those who were privy to all the details regarding Julie's end. You quickly moved on, "There are people who leave such a profound mark on our lives and Julie was one of those people. I don't feel as though I've just lost a friend or even a sister—I feel like I have lost a part of myself." 

At that admission, you could see Helen's eyes starting to well up again. Not wanting to make it worse, you knew it was time to wrap up. Dexter gave you a nod of support from the audience. 

"Anyway, there's so much more I could say but I'll leave it at this. I love you, Julie. And I will think of you always." you said with a sigh, biting your lip to keep from crying as you relinquished the podium back to the priest. 

As you sat back down next to Dexter, he wrapped an arm around you, kissing the top of your head. You gave him a weak smile, still a bit shook up from the public display of vulnerability. After the priest made his closing remarks, the pallbearers lifted the coffin, carrying it to the gated cemetery next to the church. 

Everyone followed behind them, a rather crowded procession but a nice display of how many people cared about (or claimed to care about) Julie. This time around, you stood with the Sykes as they lowered her coffin into the ground, each of them taking turns shoveling a bit of dirt on top of it. When your turn came, you almost couldn't do it, breaking out into a sob before Dexter came up to help you. 

When your part was done, you stepped back and watched as everyone else finished up, receiving words of thanks from Julie's mother and father for coming back and wishing you well. You had almost forgot you had booked such an early flight back to Miami, with Dexter having to remind you. After retrieving your belongings from the motel room, you both made your way to the airport and after an hour or so of waiting, you finally got to board. You were so emotionally and physically exhausted you slept through the short flight back, your head rested on Dexter's shoulder almost the entire time. 

By the time you arrived back in Miami, you were well-rested enough to remember your original plan of confronting Dexter about the locked chest you had discovered in his closet. It almost seemed trivial to ask about, but you wondered if it might lead to more. As he pulled into a spot outside your apartment building, your courage was built up enough to ask. 

"Hey, can I ask you something?" you said casually, not wanting to alarm him, though you figured that sort of reaction was second nature to him with all the secret-keeping. 

"Yeah, go ahead." he replied as he took the key out of the ignition, seeming slightly distracted. 

"What's in the locked chest in your closet?" you questioned flat out, though by his sigh, you had not caught him off guard. 

"What is this really about? Hm?" Dexter responded, appearing more concerned for you than anything else. 

"Nothing. I was just looking for a jacket to borrow and came across it. I was curious what was inside." you answered, putting on an innocuous tone. Dexter seemed unconvinced by this. 

"Look, I know you're upset about Julie and everything that's happened—" he had begun to say but you cut you off. 

"This has nothing to do with that. I just wanna know what's in that chest." you shot back, unwilling to drop it. "I was also curious when you were gonna drop this whole doting boyfriend routine. Or are you gonna deflect about that, too?" 

Dexter sighed, rubbing his eye in exasperation. 

"It's not an act, you know. I do care for you." he said in return, his tone sounding almost hurt. Your eyebrows knit together at this. It couldn't be. He'd made it very clear how he operated. "What do I have to do to convince you this is real?" 

You were quiet for a moment before answering, chuckling at the absurdity of your situation. 

"Tell me what's in that chest you keep locked in your closet. Tell me how you do what you do. Tell me how many people you've actually killed—" you said, immediately being cut off. 

"You know I can't—" Dexter began, but you weren't hearing any of it. 

"Can't or won't?" you demanded, still indignant about all he was holding back from you. 

"Why? Why do you wanna know so bad? Huh? Why would you want to have the same things running through your head as me?" said Dexter, his questions genuine and his voice faltering minutely, perhaps out of anguish. 

You sighed, unsure of how to handle everything that had changed in your life in such a short time and knowing in some way, your confusion was because Dexter had been there, and he had helped you when even you expected to go to jail for what you'd done. 

"Because maybe then I'll know how to deal with this!" your voice came out louder and more angry than you had wanted. 

"Knowing won't help, it'll only make things harder for you…" he insisted, but you were still too whipped up to consider his reasoning. 

"You know what I think? You're scared." you shot back, pointing at him accusingly. 

"I'm scared?" Dexter questioned, his eyes bulging in surprise at your words. He frowned. "You're the one who can't sleep alone anymore—" 

"At least I'm not hiding it!" you interrupted, and this time, your voice was as loud as you wanted it. You weren't letting this one go. "You're too scared to let anyone know you—really know you—because you're afraid they may not like what they see." 

"You wanna know who I really am?" Dexter posed, disengaging the brake and pulling his car out of your apartment complex's parking lot. He raced back to his place, the two of you arriving there in no time at all. 

Hardly waiting for you to follow, Dexter parked and got out, walking briskly up to his apartment. You rushed to catch up, going in after him and closing the door. 

Dexter was facing away from you, standing at the air conditioning unit. Your face contorted in confusion as he tore the vent cover off and reached inside, pulling out a small, rectangular wooden box. Turning to you, he opened it, revealing several slides of glass with something red encased in the center of them. You furrowed your brows for a moment, cautiously taking one out to inspect it before it finally clicked in your head. 

"Is this…blood?" you asked, your heart drumming in your chest. 

Dexter simply nodded. "I take a drop from each of my victims. Well, at least the memorable ones." 

You said nothing, staring down at the blood slide in your hands before carefully placing it back in the box. 

"And the chest in your closet?" you questioned, still trying to wrap your head around the concept of the slides. 

"Tools, mostly. I have a knife set in there." he explained, and you made a 'oh' face of understanding. 

"The slides, what are they for? I thought your dad told you no evidence." you put forth, and he chuckled. 

"Trust me, I've gotten pretty good at hiding things in plain sight." said Dexter, earning a small smile from you. 

"So, you have." you agreed, watching as he set the box back in its place. "You broke another rule just now, didn't you? Telling me, I mean." 

Dexter walked over to you, sending a shiver down your spine when he closed the distance between you. 

"I think I've broken more than one rule with you." he admitted, tentatively running his fingers down your back, stopping at your waist. You bit your lip, feeling a different sensation blooming amongst the confusion and frustration. Lust? 

"Is that everything you have to tell me?" you asked. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips mere inches apart. 

"Yes, that's everything." Dexter confirmed, the cool, sultry slide of his voice further entrancing you. 

"Good." you replied, pressing your lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. 

Dexter kissed you back, his hands traveling further down to squeeze your ass, pressing your body more firmly against his. You could just feel the beginnings of his erection on your thigh when he pulled back. 

"You're okay with…well, everything?" he asked, his eyes searching your face for any hint of hesitation. 

"Shit, I mean, it is a lot…" you began, feeling him pull back a bit in his worry before you continued, "But if this is your outlet and you're taking out scumbags like Dennis, that's far better than the alternative. Besides, I never told you… Some part of me enjoyed taking him out, especially after what he did." 

Dexter cupped your cheek, kissing you once more before pulling away, your foreheads resting against one another's, "I know exactly what you mean." 

You dove back in immediately, kissing him again, your tongue slotting into his mouth, earning a small, pleasured noise from the back of his throat. Dexter's hand wandered from your ass to the front of your jeans, undoing the button and fly before shoving past your underwear, groaning against your lips when his fingers found your wetness. His pointer and index slid up and down your pussy, occasionally pumping in and out, his thumb rubbing your clit as best he could within the confines of your pants. 

You moaned, hips bucking into his touch before the tension became too much, pushing your jeans and underwear down. Kicking them away, you allowed him to pick you up, not bothering to go to his bedroom, instead depositing you onto the living room couch. You wriggled out of your t-shirt and bra as you watched him undo his belt, shucking off his tented pants and underwear, revealing his hard-on. It slapped against his stomach when he removed his shirt, and Dexter groaned as he stroked himself a few times to the sight of your naked body laid out on his sofa. 

"You're so beautiful…" he muttered against your neck when he positioned himself above you and dragged his cock-head through your slick, making you sigh heavily. 

"God, just fuck me, already…" you teased. Dexter chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully before slowly pushing his cock into your waiting pussy. Both of you groaned, the pleasured sounds commingling when your lips connected once more. You could feel your head swimming as he thrust in and out of you, clutching onto his strong shoulders. 

Dexter let out small, enamored noises as he pounded into you, pressing kisses to your lips, neck, and breasts, digging your nails into his back when he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking with just the right amount of force. All the while, you were rubbing your clit, the combined stimulation driving you closer and closer to the edge. The tension had been building between you for some time now, and you knew it wouldn't be long until you would reach your respective highs. You groaned, and buried your face in his shoulder as you felt yourself clamp down around him, cumming hard. Dexter followed you shortly after with a low, pleasured moan. 

The two of you laid there for a moment catching your breath, still wrapped up in one another. It was so peaceful you almost forgot what you'd been fighting about in the first place. 

"You know, I still wanna see what you do…" you said after a moment, and his blissful smile faded.

"I don't know…" Dexter scratched the back of his neck, seeming almost bashful about the idea. "It's sort of private. And dangerous—you could get hurt, I don't want that." 

"Give me some training, then. You said you had a knife set." you pointed out, making Dexter sigh. 

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" he asked, and you shook your head, holding his gaze. Dexter thought about it for a moment before finally replying, "Okay, fine. We start tomorrow. But we only go when I say you're ready. And you are not to be directly involved in any way. Understand?" 

You nodded in kind, and the two of you were back to cuddling a moment later. Dexter was asleep within minutes, but the events of the day were keeping you wide awake. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to will yourself to stop thinking about Julie, about the funeral, about what you had gotten yourself into with Dexter. You weren't sure if he was right about knowing being worse but still, you felt you needed to. With that thought, you drifted to sleep at last.

Chapter 10: Docks

Summary:

You begin your training with Dexter and a night out with Deb puts you on the war path.

Notes:

ahhh i’m so happy i have something to post so soon! very happy with this chapter and so grateful to everyone who’s reading, thank you for doing that! hope you enjoy this one :) (will edit later)

"I said non-fat!" screamed a shrill blonde woman with glasses too big for her face. 

You resisted the urge to pick up the drink she had slammed down on the counter and toss it in her face. Instead, you stayed composed, giving her a tight-lipped smile. 

"I apologize, ma'am. I'll remake that for you right away." you answered, taking the drink and dumping it out before starting on another one. 

"And do it right this time!" you heard her yell for good measure, further spiking your resentment. 

When the Non-Fat Lady was finally dealt with, you clocked out and went out the back, throwing your demeaning visor on the ground. 

"Bad day?" asked a voice, making you gasp in surprise. You looked up. 

"Dexter! You scared me…" you replied, letting out a slightly annoyed huff. Dexter chuckled, grabbing your bag for you as you walked to your car. 

"Not my intention. Although it is part of my first lesson." he explained, making you raise an eyebrow. 

"Oh? And what would that be?" you asked, intrigued, if not mildly concerned about what this might entail.

Dexter grinned, seeming genuinely enthusiastic to teach you. 

"Stealth." 

-

"This feels weird." you said as you stood on the corner of a busy part of town, not too far from the restaurant where you and Dexter had your first date. 

"Just pick someone, anyone, and then stick with them. Not too close, you don't wanna be seen." replied Dexter quietly so as to avoid any passersby overhearing. You chewed your lip anxiously, looking around. "You wanted to learn, didn't you? This is part of it." 

"I know, I know…" you shot back, waving your hand dismissively. Eventually, you found someone—a young man, couldn't be more than a few years your junior. He wore a band tee and beat up old jeans, even sporting just the faintest hint of eyeliner. Dexter seemed to notice as your eyes fixed on him. 

"I'll be right behind you." he told you, giving you some following distance as you started walking, not letting the man out of your sight. 

You trailed behind him for longer than you were expecting, following the man for at least ten minutes before you felt Dexter's hand on your shoulder, calling you back. 

"Did I pass?" you asked sarcastically to which Dexter laughed softly. 

"Yes, very good. We can move onto the next lesson, unless you want a break." he said, perking you up to the mild teasing in his voice. 

"Let's keep going." you replied, indicating your commitment to learning the process by which he abided. Dexter smiled slightly.  

"Alright." 

-

You panted, letting out a heavy breath as you hit the mat with a thunk. The next lesson—combat—had been a bit of a challenge, not used to facing another opponent so directly. Before you started, you'd asked Dexter not to pull any punches so you were taking him on as he utilized every tool he'd learned from Jiu Jitsu. That had apparently been a lot, you having been slammed down more than a few times. 

"We'lll have to keep working on that… But you'll get the hang of it soon." said Dexter, holding out his hand to help you up. You took it, chuckling breathily as you regained your footing. 

"You really think so?" you asked, still unconfident in your abilities and wondering how long it would be until he deemed you fit to accompany him on a kill. 

Dexter smiled reassuringly, nodding, "Yes. Besides, I don't expect you to go hand to hand with anyone. This is just a precaution." 

You nodded in understanding, wiping the sweat from the back of your neck with a rag before tossing it to the side. 

"Could you show me that one hold again? Closed..?" you trailed off, searching for the correct term. 

"Closed guard? Sure, you'll wanna just—" he had begun to explain when you grabbed hold of his shoulders, knocking him backwards onto the mat. You grinned as you hovered over him, his surprise melting into pride as he realized what you'd done. "Nice takedown." 

You chuckled, "Learned from the best." 

Dexter smiled, and you pressed your lips against his in a long, passionate kiss. That, of course, led to other things as you kneeled between his legs, his athletic shorts tugged down just enough for you to wrap your lips around his hard cock. This went on for a while, his fingers tensed in your hair as you bobbed your head, your tongue sliding along the underside of his shaft. Dexter was moaning and panting throughout, cursing under his breath about how good it all felt. Eventually, he twitched in your mouth and came with a groan, your eyes trained on his trembling form as you pulled away to swallow it all. You wiped your mouth, a proud smile on your lips. 

"So, what's next?" you asked teasingly, making him chuckle before climbing on top of you to return the favor. 

-

You twirled a small knife in between your fingers, looking over at Dexter as he tapped away on his laptop. After a short lesson on knife handling where he'd taught you how to hold one, where best on the body to strike (in emergency situations, only, of course), and how to stand, you were moving onto research. 

"C'mere." he told you, looking up from his screen. 

You got up from the couch and crossed to his desk, putting a hand over his shoulder as you leaned down to look at his laptop. On it, he had pulled up a database of criminals, filtered by those who had most recently been arrested for violent offenses, particularly murders. 

"Now, this is all pretty straightforward but when choosing someone to go after, you have to have proof that they actually murdered people. Technicalities, like with Dennis, don't necessarily fit the code but his was a special case." Dexter explained, and you felt a pang of defensiveness in your chest despite his clarification. 

"Hell yeah it was." you muttered, and he pulled you onto his lap, gently rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you. 

"Of course," he agreed, his voice soft in your ear. "You just have to be careful with things like that. If you give yourself too much leeway, the whole system gets thrown off." 

You looked over at him, a brief smile of understanding flashing on your lips. It was clear this had been drilled into his head for a long time now, no doubt thanks to his foster father, Harry. 

"Collecting and verifying evidence is easier for some than others, of course. But you don't have to worry about that." he added, referencing the access afforded to him by his line of work. 

"You really have it all figured out, hm?" you remarked, slinging your arm over his shoulder and stretching out slightly on his lap. 

"I have to. Everything has to be in its place or I don't go through with it. I'll cover what goes into making a kill room next." said Dexter so casually you almost forgot what you were talking about. A nervous shiver ran down your spine at the words 'kill room.' All the other parts of your training had been fairly disconnected from the actual act of taking another's life. And although you had already done so, thinking of doing it again or even watching Dexter do it made your chest tighten ever so slightly. Dexter seemed to notice this, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door. 

"Hold that thought." he said, picking you up and setting you down in his office chair as he went to answer it. You closed his laptop, toying with your nails absentmindedly when you heard Deb's voice. You got up, joining Dexter at the door as he let her in. 

"Hey!" she greeted cheerily, "Is this where you've been hiding her, Dex? I feel like I barely see you!"

You chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. 

"I've been around. How are you, Deb?" you greeted, and she smiled. 

"Oh, you know, 'livin the dream." she replied, gesturing down at her Vice uniform. "I can't wait 'till I'm in Homicide. Then I'll really give my big brother a run for his money." 

All three of you laughed before Dexter asked, "So, what's up, Deb?" 

"Oh, well, we recently got a tip that a drug dealer that walked on a domestic abuse charge crossed state lines. Real fuckwad, nearly took his ex-girlfriend's eye out." Deb explained, making your ears perk up. Dexter took your hand, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

"Anyway, they found a storage container under a pseudonym he'd used previously—found a mini crank lab inside. We had a known associate of his locked up in Miami and he had agreed to help us find him but two days ago, he was found dead in the showers. He was beaten to death." she went on, and you were hanging onto every word. 

"Well, this seems like a pretty Vice-specific case. Not really area of expertise." answered Dexter, but Deb held up a finger to signal there was more to it. 

"That's where you're wrong, Dex. Know why? Because we just found two girls floating out by the pier." said Deb, and a flash of recognition came over Dexter. 

"Drug mules?" you questioned, and Deb nodded. 

"Bingo." she confirmed, "Now that there's two murders most likely directly at his hands, Vice and Homicide are working together. Wanna be part of the task force?" Debra asked in a sing-songy tone, as if she were trying to tempt him. 

Dexter gave her a smile that appeared to have an apologetic tinge to it before he spoke again, "I'd love to Deb, but I'm kinda swamped right now. Sorry." 

Deb stuck out her bottom lip and put on her best puppy dog eyes, a look you bet she'd been using on him since they were kids. 

"Oh, please? You wouldn't even need to be on the task force officially! Any kind of help would be great!" she pleaded, making Dexter sigh resignedly. 

"Alright. Maybe I could do some consulting work—but only if you're really stumped." he told her, pointing his finger as if he were a teacher talking to a student asking for homework help. A broad smile spread across Deb's face as she threw her arms around him in a grateful embrace. 

"Thank you! Best 'fuckin brother ever." said Deb when she pulled away, going on to say afterwards, "Hey, you wanna grab drinks tonight? We could make it a double date with the guy I'm seeing right now." 

Deb's invitation was followed up with clarification on the name of her current beau, Dexter thinking it was Matt when it was in fact Derek. You were only half-paying attention to the snarky comment Deb gave in response, the wheels in your mind turning over the details of the case she'd revealed. It was all a little too familiar, the part about the two dead girls making your blood boil. You hadn't realized how hard you were squeezing Dexter's hand when he said your name, making you look up and release him from your hold. 

"What? Sorry—spaced out for a sec there." you offered as an explanation, chuckling awkwardly. 

"Do you feel like going out tonight?" asked Dexter, not pressuring, though Deb's presence made you feel as though you had little choice. 

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like fun. I'd love to meet Matt—sorry, Derek." you corrected yourself, making Deb laugh, though she seemed mildly irritated. 

"I'll stick a name tag on him, don't worry." she joked, giving Dexter a playful pat on the shoulder. "See you two later." 

When Deb had gone and the door shut behind her, Dexter turned to you, a look of concern on his face. You looked down your feet, trying to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you felt his arms envelop you. Even when you were still unsure of how true his feelings were for you, being in his arms had always been comforting. 

"I know that was probably hard to hear. I didn't tell Deb about Julie because I figured you wanted to keep things private." he explained, rubbing your back in small, gentle circles. 

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, "No, no, it's alright. It just hurts to know how common what happened to her is… Dennis was into drugs, too. Mostly just partaking, not selling. That's what they were arguing about that day…" 

"I'm sorry…" Dexter murmured when you trailed off, stroking your hair. 

"I just hate to see other girls suffer at the hands of someone like him…" you added, a pained expression briefly appearing on your face before you went on, "When he and Julie first met, I had no idea what he was really like. He seemed so… personable, you know. It just makes me so angry how I couldn't see how much of a monster he really was." 

The words had barely left your lips when you realized how it sounded, Dexter's face falling slightly. 

"I didn't mean it like that—" you began to say but he cut you off. 

"It's alright, I didn't take it that way. I just hate to see you like this, so upset." he said, cupping your cheek, "We don't have to go tonight if you don't want to." 

You shook your head, "No, we should go. It might be a nice distraction, anyway." 

Dexter nodded, his hands looping around your waist and pulling you closer, "Alright. If you wanna leave at any point, though, just let me know and we'll go." 

You nodded in kind, burying your face in his chest and hugging him firmly. Afterwards you told him you were going to go home for a little bit to take a shower and find something more acceptable to wear. Dexter said he would come by later to pick you up, kissing you goodbye before you got in your car to leave. 

Amy was there when you got in, sitting at the breakfast table painting her nails a red and green gradient. With all that was going on, you had nearly forgotten it was so close to Christmas. 

"Oh, hey. I thought you were moving out." said Amy, blowing on one hand to dry the wet polish. 

"What? Why's that?" you questioned, genuinely confused. 

"You're barely here anymore. Things must be going well with that Dexter guy, huh?" she answered, a teasing smile on her face. 

You chuckled. She didn't know the half of it. 

"Definitely." you replied, going to the bathroom to hop in the shower. 

-

You met Dexter at the door a few hours later, bidding Amy goodbye after a joke from her about him returning you sometime soon. It didn't take long to arrive at your destination, a moderately busy karaoke bar near the docks. 

"You look nice." complimented Dexter, gesturing towards the simple but cute floral dress you wore. You smiled, kissing him on the cheek. 

"So do you." you returned, taking his arm as you walked up to the bar. 

It was brightly lit inside, neon signs of various alcohols they carried decorating the wall behind the bar and multiple TVs showing whatever game was on that night scattered around the establishment. Normally, you avoided places like this but in this case, you didn't mind. The noise and rowdy clientele helped you block out all the thoughts you were trying desperately to push down. 

You two found Deb at a corner table with her date, Derek-Not-Matt, a smile appearing on her face when she noticed you. 

"You made it!" she exclaimed, already slurring a little as she gestured to the dark-haired man beside her, putting emphasis on his name, "This is Derek." 

You watched as he and Dexter shook hands, Deb introducing you a moment later. 

"I set them up! Well, kind of." she explained, causing Dexter to make a face. 

"You instigated is more like it." he corrected, making Deb chuckle. 

"Well, aren't you glad I did?" Deb shot back with a smug look on her face. Dexter rolled his eyes but smiled, looking over at you and placing his hand on top of yours. 

"I am." he agreed, and you couldn't help but smile, too. 

You ordered a round of drinks a little after that, though you hardly touched your glass, content to listen to the two siblings banter back and forth, with Derek offering the occasional comment. Various people performed classic karaoke songs in the background, sometimes a little too comical to look away from. An older gentleman's version of Down With The Sickness by Disturbed was particularly funny. 

"We should do a song, baby," said Deb to Derek, who made a hesitant face. Deb shook his arm, reusing her earlier puppy dog eyes, "Oh, c'mon! Just one?" 

After a moment, he gave in, allowing Deb to pull him towards the stage with a wide grin on her face. You and Dexter laughed, exchanging looks of mild disbelief as Deb searched through the song book and eventually cued one up. As The Human League's Don't You Want Me began, Deb taking the lead, you began to tune out again. You looked around, glancing through a porthole on the wall at the docks outside. Your earlier thoughts returned at the sight, imagining the two girls they'd found by the pier. Where were their families? Did they even know where they were? That they were dead? 

You looked back at Dexter, who was currently preoccupied by the combination of Deb's over the top performance and Derek's extremely underwhelming one. Deciding to leave him be, you put to use the stealth skills he'd taught you, slipping away before he could notice. Weaving through the throngs of people scattered around the bar, you made your way outside. 

The air was still warm, but not overwhelmingly so as the moon began to reach prominence in the sky. You walked along the old wooden pathway lined with large palm trees, passing young families and dog owners on their evening walks until you reached the docks. You strode out to the edge of the platform, leaning against one of the support posts as you looked down at the water. It was a nice dark blue color, turning slightly tan the closer it was to the shore. You wondered if it had been cold when he dumped the girls in. Were they already dead then? 

You looked up at the sky, noting a large, twinkling star. On a camping trip with her family, Julie's dad had taught you both all about constellations and how they had formed almost entirely by chance. Thinking of it now really seemed to put your life into perspective. How certain things had to occur for various events to happen—friendships, romantic relationships, births, and even deaths. What had to happen for those girls to meet their unfortunate fates? 

"I thought I'd find you here." came Dexter's voice from behind, joining you at the edge. You didn't flinch this time, having expected him to follow you. 

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't wanna ruin the mood." you told him, turning to face him when you felt his hand on your shoulder. 

"That's alright," Dexter assured, moving his hand to rest between your shoulder blades. "Thinking about Julie?" 

You nodded, staring off into the distance, watching the gentle waves as bright orange buoys bobbed in them, "And those girls." 

Dexter made a noise of understanding, and it was quiet between you two for a moment thereafter. 

Eventually, you turned to him, a conviction in your voice as you spoke, 

"We have to kill him." 

Chapter 11: Poison in the Water

Summary:

Dexter tries to surprise you; the truth comes spilling out.

Notes:

ahhhhh the emotionssss — new series is def giving me more inspo for this. thank you for reading!

~h

Dexter looked at you for a moment before sighing heavily. 

"I was worried you might say that." he admitted, making your eyebrows raise in confusion. 

"What do you mean? He murdered two girls, he deserves it!" you fired back, and he put a hand on your shoulder to quiet you, though where you were was all but empty. 

"I'm not saying he doesn't but you can't be involved in killing him. You're too personally invested, and that can cause complications." Dexter explained, sounding almost clinical. 

"Is that part of the code?" you asked, anger still lingering in your voice. 

"Yes, actually." he confirmed, further frustrating you, "Besides, you're not ready yet." 

"Were you ready your first time?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"We're not talking about me here." Dexter replied, his tone remaining even and calm. 

"Why does it even matter if I'm 'ready'? I've done it once before!" you pointed out and Dexter shook his head in the negatory. 

"We barely got away with that. If I hadn't been at the right time, you'd have been caught. The process takes a lot more than just stabbing someone." he outlined, and you blew out a breath of aggravation, tears welling in your eyes. 

"I'm just sick of these guys getting away with this shit…" you told him, biting your lip to hold back a sob. 

Dexter pulled you into another hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know."

After a moment, you pulled back to face him once more, his thumbs wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. 

"How about this? If he's still in the wind by the time you're ready, we'll go after him together. If not, I'll get him for you, myself. Does that seem fair?" he proposed, and you thought about it for a moment—although you'd prefer to be involved in some way, he would wind up dead either way. You nodded. 

"Yes, that's fair," you agreed, adding a moment later, "I'm sorry I yelled at you." 

Dexter kissed your forehead, stroking your cheek tenderly. "That's alright." 

-

Everyday following your comprise, you were checking the news for any updates on the case or asking Dexter if he'd heard anything from Deb, though to your disappointment, he hadn't. 

"These things take time. It's no use torturing yourself." Dexter tried to tell you as you refreshed the crime reporting database again. 

You sighed, slumping down in his office chair, completely dejected. 

"Hey," said Dexter in a reassuring tone, making you look over at him, "That guy will get what's coming to him." 

You toyed with the initial rings on your finger, still unconvinced, "How can you be so certain?" 

"Because I'm going to make sure of it." he stated, the steadfastness in his voice both comforting and extremely attractive. 

You smiled, getting up from your seat to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in for a passionate kiss. 

"What was that for?" questioned Dexter after you'd pulled away, sounding a little breathless. 

"Just everything these past few days… You've really been there for me and so supportivel. I just wanted to say I'm grateful, is all. For you." you confessed, the familiar feeling you got when you first tried to kiss him returning. 

There was just something about him—something dark and entrancing (and quite possibly dangerous) that drew you in. Though you never thought he was consciously aware of it, his voice, his demeanor, and even the way he held himself around you—not the act he put on everyone else—that enthralled you. Not only that, it touched you to know he felt comfortable enough with you to be his true self, even if it still scared you a bit at times. Though, wasn't that all you had wanted before? To know the truth? 

"I was thinking the same thing about you. About being grateful, I mean. Er-you know what I meant—shit…" he rambled, making you chuckle. Dexter was hardly one to stumble over his words but when it came to feelings, all his composure seemed to go out the window. You kissed him again, gentle at first but then more firmly when you felt his hands on your waist. Your lips turned up in a smile as you began to make out, coaxing a small moan out of him as your tongues met. 

After a moment, you pulled away, a teasing expression on your face, "I thought you were gonna show me a kill room today…" 

"It can wait…" he replied, diving back down to kiss you once more. 

-

Lying in bed together, you walked your fingers up and down Dexter's chest, chuckling to yourself. Dexter raised an eyebrow, seeming amused. 

"What're you laughing about?" he questioned. 

You shrugged, a smile on your face. 

"I dunno… Just funny how things work out sometimes, I guess." you told him, pressing a kiss to his lips right as your phone buzzed on the side table. 

You groaned, pulling away to look at it and saw a text from your manager. You rolled your eyes. 

"What is it?" asked Dexter, sitting up slightly. 

"My coworker quit. Some lady threw a drink at her and stormed out." you relayed, still reading over the message. Dexter hummed in mild surprise. "Oh, there's more—apparently my coworker followed the woman out of the store and they started fighting in the parking lot. Took fifteen minutes to pull them apart." 

"Wow. I don't remember that place being so violent before you started working there." Dexter teased, making you playfully swat him on the arm, laughing. 

"Don't blame me, blame Florida." you shot back, earning a chuckle from him. "This does mean I have to close tonight unfortunately…" 

"Bummer. Guess we'll have to put the kill room on hold for now." said Dexter casually, as if he were postponing a dinner date. You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder thereafter, tracing the length of a scar on his left side. Dexter closed his eyes, relaxing into your touch. You made a face to yourself—amazed at where you'd ended up, who you'd ended up with. You leaned forward, kissing him on the forehead tenderly. This made his eyes flutter back open, looking at you as if you were the only other person on earth when he pressed a deep kiss to your lips. You chuckled when he pulled away, trying to play off your breathlessness at the gesture. 

"What was that for?" you echoed him from earlier, making him smile slightly. 

"For everything." he answered, stroking your cheek. 

The corners of your lips turned up in a smile, and you leaned into his touch, lingering there for a moment before slowly pulling away. 

"I should go get ready… Call me tonight?" you asked, and Dexter nodded, kissing you one last time before you got up, grabbed your things, and left. 

-

After wiping down the last table, you turned all the lights off and locked the doors, telling your coworker goodbye before walking to your car. You checked in all four windows for any hidden assailants—as you had done every time since the previous incident—before getting in and locking the doors behind you. You were just about to put the key in the ignition when your phone rang. Dexter. 

"Hey, I was just about to call you," you greeted, smiling to yourself, "How's it going?" 

"Great, really great, actually," Dexter replied, an undercurrent of excitement in his voice that made your smile broaden. Had he not gotten enough of you this morning? You were just about to ask him a question to that effect when he spoke again, "Are you free right now? I'd really like to see you."

You chuckled, already growing a little hot under the collar at his apparent proposition, "Yeah, I'm free. Your place or mine?" 

"Neither. I'll send you the coordinates." Dexter told you, hanging up before you could question him further. You quirked an eyebrow at this but figured it was all part of the game. After a moment, you got a message from him including his location, as promised. You bit your lip, staring at the coordinates for a moment before shrugging to yourself and entering them into your car's gps system. 

You travelled south for a majority of the trip—the traffic mercifully light for a Sunday evening—wondering all the while where Dexter was sending you. It wasn't until you were five minutes away that you received another text from him, simply telling you to park in a spot where your car couldn't be easily seen. You grinned. Car sex? Dexter was dirtier than you expected. 

Eventually, you reached an abandoned strip mall, where you pulled into space behind a shoe store, near two large, overgrown shrubs. You flipped your visor mirror down, checking your face and hair in it, hoping you didn't look too run down after work. You adjusted your clothes, wishing you had worn sexier underwear. You were just about to call Dexter when he beat you to it again, texting you to come to the back entrance of the shoe store. This. confused you, but you complied, slipping out of your car and going around to the back. You didn't even have a chance to knock before Dexter opened the door, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you. 

"Dexter?" you questioned, looking down when you heard the crinkling of plastic wrap under your feet. Your eyes travelled around the dimly lit room, seeing that every square inch of the room was covered in the stuff. Your gaze landed on him, noting he was wearing an olive green jumpsuit with a black apron over it and white latex gloves. You raised your eyebrows at him, "What's going on here?" 

Dexter leaned down to your eye level, his hands on either side of you as if he were preparing you for something big, "I know this is a lot at once but I know how much you wanted to be there when he went down." 

Your eyes widened, "You don't mean…"

"Yes, I do. I got him. For you." Dexter admitted, a smile breaking out onto his face.

Your heart raced as you took in the news and you felt it speed up even more when he stepped aside. The murderous drug dealer was there, lying unconscious and naked on a metal table, strapped down with multiple layers of plastic wrap. You gasped in shock and minor fear at the sight. Dexter hadn't revealed any details about the process of making a kill room or prepping the victim, leaving you to imagine what it might entail. Now that you were seeing what it involved—all the plastic, the table, the tray of tools beside it—you knew you had underestimated just how practiced Dexter was in all of this. 

Your mind buffered for a moment before you were able to speak again, "H-how did you..?"

"Let's just say I noticed something Vice and Homicide missed. They think he's on a plane to Columbia right now." Dexter explained, a hint of pride in his voice. You felt frozen in place, looking at the man on the table and then back at Dexter. 

"So much for helping Deb, huh?" you joked wryly, and Dexter shrugged. 

"Trust me, there's plenty of guys like him, she'll get her moment. I just wanted you to be included." he told you, cupping your face with his hands, making your nose wrinkle at the cold latex on your skin. He chuckled softly. "Sorry. You should put some on." 

Dexter handed you a pair of your own gloves as well as a matching jumpsuit and apron in your size. You held them up, astounded. 

"When did you buy these?" you questioned. 

"The night you told me you wanted to kill him." Dexter answered, unable to hide the smile that crept onto his face. "Well, put it on. I wanna see you in it." 

He gave you an encouraging gesture, his eyes ghosting over your frame in what seemed like a mix of lust and pride. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond so you simply slipped the suit over your clothes and draped the apron over it, tying the string in the back. Dexter's eyes lit up at the sight of you, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he looked you over. 

"You look… Incredible." he said softly, planting a passionate kiss on your lips before leading you over to the table. 

You stared down at the man, duct tape over his mouth, his eyes closed as he slumbered. There was a mark on his neck that looked like it came from a needle. You didn't need to guess where it had come from, putting two and two together on how Dexter had subdued him. Looking at him now, he didn't look like the monster you had imagined in your head. He had dark, curly hair and a tan complexion, appearing to be of average height and weight. Although you had thought the same of Dennis and yet he had still capable done terrible things to Julie, to you. Who knew what he might've done if you hadn't killed him? That made it alright… Didn't it? 

"Just follow my lead." Dexter muttered in your ear, making you shiver ever so slightly. You nodded, hoping he hadn't noticed. 

Dexter grabbed a scalpel from off of the tray, stepping around so he was at the head of the table, staring down at the man. Exchanging one final look with you, Dexter lowered the blade to the man's cheek, dragging it backwards along his skin and making a small cut. Blood seeped from the incision, earning a groan from the man as he stirred. His eyes slowly opened, his gaze seeming unfocused before they fixed on Dexter and his scalpel, widening in fear. Dexter hardly reacted, reaching for a pipette and using it to extract a single drop of blood. As the man struggled under his restraints, he transferred the blood onto one of his glass slides, sealing it by pressing another on top. The man's eyes narrowed in anger, his thrashing growing stronger. Dexter came back around, standing beside you and setting the new blood slide on the tray. 

By this point, the man had noticed you, confusion flickering in his eyes. Dexter tore the duct tape off his mouth, causing him to cry out in pain. 

"What the fuck is this?!" he exclaimed, still moving beneath the plastic wrap. 

"I think you know." said Dexter, pulling out photos of the women he had killed. "You recognize them? You should. You trafficked these women, exploited them and then disposed of them when they stopped being useful." 

Vindication ran through you at Dexter's words, knowing that this was the man responsible for their deaths and that he was going to meet his end soon. 

"Let me outta here, fuck!" was all the man had to say, unable to focus on anything other than breaking free from his bonds. 

"Yeah, not happening. This is sort of how it always goes." said Dexter, looking over at you. You nodded wordlessly, still just watching it all play out. 

"That your bitch?" asked the man, making you narrow your eyes in disdain. 

"Alright, that's enough out of you." said Dexter, slapping the duct tape back over the man's mouth. 

Dexter then grabbed a larger knife, holding it up for you and the man to see. He looked at you, turning it over so the blade was facing downwards, tilting the handle towards you. 

"Would you like to do the honors?" asked Dexter, making your eyes widen. 

"Are you sure I'm… ready?" you questioned, leaning in to whisper the last word. Dexter could see the uncertainty on your face, and he frowned slightly. 

"This was too much for your first time. I'm sorry. If you want to leave—" Dexter began to say but you stopped him. 

"No, it's alright. I know why you did this and I appreciate it." you told him, pausing a moment before continuing, "I don't know if I can do it myself but… could I still stay and watch?" 

Dexter looked at you, taking in your words before nodding, "Of course." 

You nodded in turn, giving him the go ahead to proceed. Turning to the struggling man, you stepped back as Dexter wielded the knife, aiming it at the center of the man's chest. For a moment, he paused, seeming to savor the build up before plunging the blade deep into the man's chest, painting the plastic wrap red with blood as it pooled around the fatal wound. You simply stared, watching it gush further when Dexter removed the knife. The man thrashed for a minute or so after before quickly expiring due to blood loss. Dexter let out a deep, satisfied sigh, looking down at his handy work. You weren't sure how you felt—you'd seen death firsthand, you'd caused it, yourself—yet, seeing your boyfriend kill was different. Dexter's body hadn't shook the way yours had when you stabbed Dennis—he wasn't scared in the slightest. No, he seemed almost intoxicated by the whole thing. 

"Hey," said Dexter, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Why don't you go back to my apartment and I'll clean all this up?" 

You looked over at him, mustering the best fake smile you could manage before nodding, stripping off your suit and apron. You left the way you came in, Dexter making sure the coast was clear first. Breathing in the fresh air, you made your way back to your car and got in, going around the back to leave. Your mind went on autopilot as you drove the familiar path back to Dexter's apartment. You sat in your car outside his complex, staring straight ahead. The image of Dexter stabbing the man played over and over in your head. It took you almost thirty minutes before you could drag yourself out of your car and up to his apartment. At first, you simply sat on the couch, turning everything over in your mind before your eyes drifted to the AC unit. Taking it apart just as Dexter had done before, you pulled the case out, inspecting it carefully before popping it open. You ran your fingers over each slide, taking one out and examining it. Dexter didn't label them, so it was likely that he had memorized the position of each individual victim as they corresponded to a slide. There it was again—that steadfastness, that precision, that finesse—all things you were lacking when it came to killing. 

"Wanna add this one?" came Dexter's voice from behind, snapping you out of your daze. You turned to him, noting the new slide between his fingers. You handed the case off to him, an apologetic smile on your face. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to snoop." you told him, and he shook his head dismissively as he carefully placed the slide in with the others. 

"Don't worry about it." he replied, closing the box and putting it back in its place behind the AC unit cover. There was a silence between you that followed, neither of you acknowledging the elephant in the room until finally, you broke down. 

"I couldn't do it…" you let out a small, hiccuping cry, and Dexter came rushing to your side, putting his arms around you. "I hated him, I hate men like him but I just… I couldn't do it. Why couldn't I do it?" 

Tears ran down your face as the silence momentarily returned, leaving your questions hanging in the air. 

"Because you're not like me." Dexter finally answered, making you turn to look at him, your eyes still glassy. "You never were." 

"Dexter, I—" you tried to say but he cut you off. 

"What happened to you—what you did—that was instinct. You wanted to live." he relayed, his face somber and devoid of all the joy you'd once seen in them. 

"But I hated him. I hated what he did to Julie, to me!" you cried out, gesturing for emphasis. 

"Doesn't mean you wanted to kill me, not really. You left your hometown to get away from him. You're not a killer." Dexter reasoned, and you sighed heavily, knowing he was right. 

You went to him then, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around him. When you pulled away, Dexter was looking down at you, a distant sadness in his eyes. 

"I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. I just got overexcited. And I know how much it meant to you—being there." he voiced, and you nodded in understanding. Dexter then looked at you, hesitating a moment before going on, "Please tell me what you're thinking." 

You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers through your hair, "You're right. I'm not like you. I—I wanted so badly to believe I could do what you do... But I can't. Dennis was personal, this other guy wasn't." 

You wiped your eyes, and Dexter nodded, his solemn expression seeming to tell you that he understood where this was headed. 

"I–I don't think I can keep doing this with you. It's tearing me up inside. I'm sorry…" you told him, sucking in a sharp breath before quickly rising to your feet and going to the door. 

You had already opened the door to leave when Dexter spoke again, his words only rubbing salt in the wound. 

"I love you." 

You closed your eyes, tears welling in them once again, rolling down your cheeks. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his forlorn face. 

You smiled sadly, telling him once, "I love you, too…" before disappearing into the cover of night… 

Chapter 12: Crash (And Burn)

Summary:

While trying to put Dexter out of your mind, you get caught up in a police investigation…

Notes:

haven’t abandoned this story!! just crazy busyyy :( will hopefully update again soon! thanks for reading y'all okie byeee <3

~h

"Oh please, are you still moping about that ginger guy?" asked Amy as you walked around a cute little vintage boutique, scanning the racks for anything you thought might be cute. After you told her a very abridged version of your talk with Dexter, she had taken it upon herself to rope you into some retail therapy. You turned your head to look at her, both amused and caught off guard by her description of him. 

"Now why is that the only thing you remember about him?" you questioned, looking over a random yellow skirt. 

"It's just very noticeable, especially with the tan–you know?" she waved her hand in front of her torso as if to help you imagine the combination. You gave her a look of consternation before you sighed. 

"Ginger or not, I'm sorta glad it's over with. It was always so intense with him. I feel like I can breathe again, you know?" you admitted, surprising even yourself a little bit. You were still broken up about how things had ended, sure, but a part of you was relieved. Maybe now you could get on with something resembling a life, at least. 

"Well, good. Men are like dessert, you don't really need them." Amy replied, a playful smile on her face. You made a face, laughing a little. 

"Are you quoting Cher?" you questioned, and Amy chuckled, shrugging. 

"Ooh, let's hear it for the back of the dress!" she exclaimed as she held up a black, backless evening gown with a tiny, intricate flower pattern on it. You both snickered and look at a few more things around the department store before you decided to go grab something to eat.

Amy stood in line at a nearby taco truck and you sat a picnic table, saving it for the two of you. You were facing the street, watching cars go by and aimlessly playing with your nails when there a red hotrod came ripping down the road. The engine roared loudly and at first you dismissed it as a drag racer but then another sports car came flying along after it. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the scene unfold, the man in the red car suddenly crashing into a lamppost and hobbling out of the smoking vehicle. The two men in the other car raced towards it, slowing down when they reached the injured man on the sidewalk. Then, two shots rang out and the man went down, lying motionless on the ground. Your face fell at the sight, catching a glimpse of the shooter’s face before they sped off. 

You could hear people screaming in the background and someone dialing 911 but you couldn't take your eyes off the surely slain man. 

"Jesus Christo, what the hell happened?" Amy questioned as she came over to you, her hand on your shoulder making you flinch. You were snapped out of your daze but still reeling from what you'd witnessed. 

The cops were surprisingly punctual and arrived only a few minutes later, ambulances in tow. Yellow caution tape was immediately set up around the scene of crime and after an EMT pronounced the man dead, police began canvassing the area for potential witnesses. You froze, knowing that if no one else had seen anything credible, you were it. 

"Ames, we should probably go—" you had begun to say, getting up from the table. 

"Not so fast." said a deep, commanding voice, making you turn your head. It was a police officer, but not one you remembered meeting at that bowling night with Dexter. He was dark-skinned, bald and quite muscular, a leather gun holster slung over his shoulders. For a moment, he looked at you, searching for something, though you hoped it didn't have anything to do with Dennis. "Do I know you?"

You were about to stutter out an answer when a familiar face appeared behind the intimidating man, one far friendlier than his. 

"She and Dexter were a thing for a while, Sergeant." answered Angel, giving you an apologetic smile. You smiled back, thankful for his presence.  The sergeant raised his eyebrows, still seemingly unsatisfied with the explanation. 

"Why would you date a creep like him?" he asked, catching you off guard and making Amy snicker before you could stop herself, muttering an apology afterwards. 

"Alright, personal shit aside, did you see anything?" questioned Angel, trying to get the conversation back on track. You open your mouth to speak but then hesitated. Who even knew why they murdered that guy? Maybe this was more dangerous than was worth it. 

"Well, yes but…" you started to trail off, the sergeant seeming to sense your reluctance immediately. 

"If you know anything, you have to tell us." he ordered, his tone cold and unrelenting. It almost reminded you of how Dexter sounded when you watched him kill that dealer. You knew that wasn't a way of dispatching justice you could stomach. Maybe it was time to give the law another chance. 

"Okay… I saw the whole thing. The crash, the drive by, their faces." you admitted, seeming to shock Amy a bit. 

"Shit, why didn't you say anything?" she asked but you just shrugged, a little unsure yourself. 

"Alright, you're coming to the station with us." said the sergeant, already turning to walk in the direction of his police car. 

"You'll just give your statement and meet with the sketch artist." explained Angel, and you nodded. 

"Wait, do you want me to go with you?" asked Amy, and you shook your head no. 

"Just go home, I'll meet you there when I'm done." you told her, leaving her with your tacos and about a million questions as you followed Angel. 

When you reached the sergeant's car, your eyes caught another familiar pair, hazel and intense as always. Dexter's face contorted in confusion and slight worry at seeing you so close to a crime scene but you turned away, getting in the backseat of the car before he could come over. You were sure he'd probably see you at the station, anyway, as much as you'd been trying to avoid him. 

-

You had only been to Dexter's precinct a handful of times and even then, you had never ventured past the parking lot. You followed Angel and Sergeant Doakes into the building, receiving a visitor's pass from the front desk clerk after passing through the metal detector without setting it off. They led you to a private room typically used for interrogations and told you to sit tight while they waited for their lieutenant to return from the crime scene. There was a camera set up in front of the table you were sitting at, and even though it wasn't turned on yet, the prospect of being recorded made you nervous. Did you seem guilty? You felt a bit hypocritical, coming forward as a witness to another murder when you had not come clean about the one you'd committed. Just then, the door opened, Sergeant Doakes and a brown-haired woman you suspected was his lieutenant filing in. You had hoped Angel would've been the one to interview you, feeling a little less on edge around him. 

"Hi, there. I'm Lieutenant Maria Laguerta." she greeted as she and Doakes sat down across from you. "I understand you were a potential witness to the drive by on 55th Street." 

You nodded, feeling your heart jump when Doakes stood up to turn on the video camera, adjusting it so you were in full view of the lens. 

"Uh, yeah, that's right. I saw the whole thing." you answered, trying to tamp down your nerves. 

"Do you remember exactly where you were when it happened?" asked Laguerta, taking out a pen and pad of paper to take notes. 

"I was at one of those public picnic tables. My friend Amy was waiting in line at a food truck a little ways away. I was facing the street." you replied, attempting to provide as many details as you could. 

"At the crime scene, you mentioned you saw the crash and then the drive by shooting. Can you remember what kind of car the assailants were driving?" questioned Doakes, Lieutenant Laguerta barely hiding the annoyance that crossed her face. You guessed she didn't like to relinquish control very often. 

"Yeah, it was some kind of sports car. A Corvette, maybe. It was dark blue." you answered, Laguerta nodding as she scribbled on her notepad. 

"And they were following the man in the red car? What happened next?" asked Laguerta. 

You recounted the events of the crime as you remembered them, and then Doakes asked you to describe the two men as best you could. Both of them were tan, with dark eyes and tattoos covering their arms. The man in the passenger seat had a shaved head and was wearing a white tank top. The driver, whom you assumed was higher up than him, had short dark hair and wore a gold ring on his pinky finger, a detail you had noticed when he pulled the gun. After relaying these details for a second time to the sketch artist, you were thanked by the Lieutenant for your cooperation and were free to go. 

As you walked out of the interview room, multiple faces you recognized were looking your way—Angel, Vince, it seemed even Deb had decided to make an appearance, whispering something to Dexter and elbowing him encouragingly. You knew you were in trouble when he began to get up from his seat, crossing over to where you were. 

"Hey…" he greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck the way he always did. "Can we talk?" 

You looked at him for a moment, feeling a little extra obligation to do so with the captive audience you had. Seeming to realize this, Angel, Deb, and Vince all looked away at roughly the same time. You sighed. "Okay. But not here. This place makes me nervous." 

Dexter nodded, and you followed him out of the precinct to a nearby coffee shop, though decidedly not the one you where you worked. After ordering something for posterity, the two of you sat down. You could barely look him in the eye, though you felt as though he was staring a hole into your head.

"What did you want to talk about?" you finally asked after a moment of silence. 

Dexter cleared his throat, going to speak when the barista interrupted him to set down your cups of coffee. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, already knowing his answer but still fearing what was to follow it. 

"I wanted to talk about what happened at my apartment two weeks ago." he got out at last once you were alone again. You fidgeted in your seat. "You haven't been returning my calls. I'm just… Confused." 

You frowned slightly before continuing, "Well, that makes two of us…" you said before you could catch yourself, omitting the latter part in your head: I thought you were a regular guy but you're actually a serial killer. "I'm sorry for not calling you back but I thought we were on the same page. I can't be with you, Dexter." 

His face seemed to fall at your words, genuinely caught off guard by the news. You could feel your heart break a little more. 

"Oh…" was all he could manage at first. "But we said…" he trailed off, and in that moment, he looked more like a sad little boy than the cold-blooded killer you had seen in that abandoned shoe store. 

"I know," you told him softly, feeling tears starting to prick at your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. "I wish that were enough." 

There was a silence that bloomed between you, the steam emanating off your coffee slowly dying as they cooled. Finally, you spoke up. 

"For what it's worth, I don't regret this. Us, I mean." you expressed, hoping it was of some comfort. "And I'm grateful for everything you did for me." 

You reached for his hand but Dexter moved away before you could, standing up abruptly. You looked up at him, seeing the hurt on his face he was trying so hard to conceal. 

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he told you, and it felt more like an order than just something you say in the middle of a breakup. You exchanged one last glance before he walked away, leaving you alone once again. You sat there for a moment, wondering if there was anything else you could've said to make it easier but ultimately coming up empty. Your phone rang, and it was only then that you realized you had yet to let Amy know how things at the precinct went. 

"Hey. Yeah, I just got done a little while ago. I'm coming back home now." you told her, talking for a bit before you both hung up. 

-

It was only three days later that you got a call from one Sergeant James Doakes requesting your presence at Miami Metro. He wouldn't say why over the phone but you knew it had to have something to do with the murder you'd witnessed. You didn't have to wonder if they'd caught the men already, the media frenzy outside answer enough. 

You were escorted in by Doakes through a back entrance which just so happened to put on you a path right next to Dexter's office. You tried not to look as you passed by but caught his eye anyway, noting the concern beneath his distant gaze. Even though you were apart, his earlier comment at the cafe made it clear he still cared for you. 

"If you were shown a lineup, could you ID the two men you saw before?" asked Doakes once you'd reached the Lieutenant's office. You'd been told she was on her way, having been swept up by the press. 

You nodded, still a bit weary of the sergeant, and especially being alone with him. "I could do that." 

Doakes nodded affirmatively, adding a second later, "Good to know you're not as morally bankrupt as Morgan." 

You raised your eyebrows, and even felt your mouth open to say something when Lieutenant Laguerta walked in, a dramatic sigh falling from her lips as she set her bag down on her desk. 

"Alright, then. James, bring me up to speed." she said as she crossed to sit down, you taking a seat across from her and Doakes standing off to the side next to her. 

"She said she could ID them. But I haven't asked if she'll testify yet." he replied, his and Laguerta's gaze shifting to you expectantly. 

"Uh, well…" you stumbled, caught off guard. Could you testify? Face a lawyer, a judge, and a jury knowing you're guilty of the same crime as the accused? Not to mention the potential retaliation you'd be opening yourself up to. Yet, you supposed backing out now wouldn't really be giving the justice system a fair chance to do its job. Still, you were hesitant. "I can. Am I the only witness available?"

"You're the only one who was coherent enough at the time. Everyone else was day drunk. 'Buncha tourists and winos…" griped Doakes, crossing his arms. 

"I think what Sergeant Doakes means to say is you're our best chance." said Laguerta, giving her colleague a warning look. "You were completely sober, you were facing the street, you remembered every detail without wavering. You'd do just fine on the stand if this case goes to trial." 

Now that caught your attention. 

"Wait, did you say if it goes to trial?" you questioned. 

"Well, there might be some kind of deal. It'd go a long way to getting guys higher up on the chain of command in the gang—" Laguerta began to explain but you cut her off, leaning forward in your chair. 

"What about that man they killed? What about all other people they might've hurt? They just a slap on the wrist for that? Those girls by the pier… The man who killed them should've had to face their families, look them in the eye and really see what he took from them." you found yourself voicing before you could stop yourself. 

If you'd been unsure about testifying before, your mind was made up now. 

Doakes and Laguerta appeared a little stunned by your sudden outburst but the Lieutenant quickly regained her composure. 

"I'm going to convene with the assistant state attorney later today. A positive ID would go a long way to bolster the case." she told you, a softer side of her seeming to come out, at least momentarily. 

"Absolutely. Anything you need." you told her, and she gave you a tight-lipped smile, expressing her sympathy while still remaining professional. 

That gave you a little pause. How much did she know about you? About what happened to Julie? Had she already run a background check? You doubted Dexter had mentioned anything. You shook your head as you exited her office, telling yourself you were just being paranoid. You had made it to the hallway and were waiting for the elevator when you heard a familiar voice. 

"Don't do this." said Dexter, suddenly appearing before you. You frowned, raising your eyebrows. 

"I can't say goodbye again." you told him, getting into the elevator to leave. Dexter stopped the door from closing, getting on with you. The doors closed behind you and you were alone together once more. 

"Don't testify. Recant your statement." he urged you, his voice laced with concern. 

"You know I can't do that." you told him, a conflicted expression on your face. 

"Sure you can. Say you were under duress. Doakes interviewed you, right? Blame it on him, he's your way out of this." Dexter continued, and you had to wonder what went on between the two of them to form this shared animosity. The elevator dinged and the two of you got out, Dexter following you to your car. 

"I don't wanna get out of this." you explained, making Dexter's eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

"Why?" he asked, seeming genuinely pained by your refusal. "You do realize you're putting a target on your back, right?" 

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. You almost didn't answer, too emotionally drained from the case and seeing Dexter again so soon. You looked at him, your resolve unwavering. 

"Maybe so, but I need to do what's right and that's making sure those two guys go to prison for a long time." you stated, unlocking your car door and getting in, closing it behind you before he could say anything else. You drove off, watching as Dexter slowly grew more distant in your rear view mirror. You saw his point, but you had to do this. For Julie, for those girls, for every victim who had no one else to speak up for them. 

You fell into bed later that night, too physically and emotionally exhausted to change your clothes. Your eyes were heavy with sleep, and you could feel yourself drifting off when your phone buzzed. Figuring it was Dexter, you ignored it, silencing it and tossing it away from you. You felt bad icing him out after everything that had happened but you were in no state to talk anymore, at least not now. 

Burying your face in a pillow, you shut your eyes, welcoming the merciful embrace of slumber when you heard a small clanging noise. You furrowed your eyebrows, flopping back down and hoping it was just your imagination running wild. However, when it happened again, you huffed in annoyance and got up, calling Amy's name to see if it was her as you opened your bedroom door. You would soon learn that was a mistake, the cold, hard surface of a metal pipe kissing your temple and sending you down onto the floor. You groaned softly, grabbing for the door handle to pull yourself up but by that point, it didn't seem to matter. Two pairs of hands were already clapped onto your arms and pulling you towards the back door. 

You gasped when you glimpsed Amy's incapacitated but mostly unharmed body on the floor and your broken motion censor light in the window. Dexter had helped install it and some kind of special anti-break-in equipment to your door after your run-in with Dennis, but it seemed to be for nothing. To your horror, you heard a slightly garbled voice ask if they could take Amy along, and another sighing in annoyance before agreeing. You must've tried to voice your dissent to the idea because you felt a hand clap over your mouth, quickly being replaced by a strip of duct tape. 

Your mind briefly went to images of that man on Dexter's table and how much you probably resembled him now. Battered, restrained, helpless. You were no Dexter, you knew that. For a fleeting moment, you had felt lucky that you weren't but now, it could have been a real help to possess at least some of his cunning. 

Before you had a chance to do anything to get someone's attention, you felt yourself being shoved into some kind of burlap sack and then slung over one of the men's shoulders.  There had been a security detail assigned to you but the officer must've dozed off because from the looks of it, no one was coming to save you. Shit… Dexter was right. This was last thought you had before your head hit the bottom of what appeared to be a truck bed, knocking you unconscious…