time yet for a hundred indecisions (2/2); dexter; R
Title: time yet for a hundred indecisions (2/2)
Ch Title: decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse
Fandom: Dexter
Rating: R (language, sexuality, incest)
Pairing: Deb/Dexter; mentions Deb/Rudy, Dexter/Rita
Summary: Dexter is having some issues with personal space since Deb moved in.
Set between Seasons 1 & 2. Huge spoilers for S1.
part 1; 'like a patient etherised upon a table'
You know, you’ll ruin her.
*
“Back the fuck off my brother, he just saved my life! He’s a fucking hero! I want you to treat him that way, goddammit!”
Dexter pulls her aside.
Deb can barely see she is so angry. She is absolutely terrified and, she’s sure, somewhere deep inside, completely heartbroken. Dexter is just staring at her, his eyes filled with fear. She feels a fierce swoop of love for him in the pit of her stomach.
He saved her.
He saved her when there was no one, when there was no way she could have survived
She inhaled, savoring the feel of the air in her lungs.
Alive...
*
She couldn’t remember a time that Dexter hadn’t stared at her. Her entire life, she could remember feeling him watching her. This had never bothered her. Well, almost never. After all, Dexter loved her. And she loved him, and she hated him. Just like she’d always been sure that he loved her, she was sure that he hated her too.
She could never explain this if she was asked, but as her first answer to any such question would have produced a pipebomb sized explosion of expletives and the sort of language that would prompt a ‘you kiss your mother with that mouth’ exclamation from any English speaking adult in the vicinity of Deb’s mouth, she was not likely to be asked.
So she didn’t worry about it.
*
When she looks back on the night in question, everything begins to blur together.
She remembers the complete and absolute mind-numbing terror that had gripped her. And she remembers practically peeing on herself in the trunk of the stolen car, scared and unable to go to the bathroom for hours. She remembers repeating over and over to herself in her head not to pee, because if she did, he might just shoot her while he laughed, just to pour table salt in the proverbial wound.
She can also remember the blurry vision of Dexter that had come into focus, just as everything had seemed the bleakest, darkest and closest to (death) doom.
After that, her memories are a bit blurred (not shouting at Doakes though, that had been completely clear). In the ambulance she remembers Dexter holding her while she cried. He had looked at her so lovingly, as if she was so perfect, just for existing. Then, for a moment, she sees something in his eyes that scares her, something that she’s never (ever!) noticed before.
She’s stung then, in the morning, when she wakes up alone in the hospital. She starts to cry, sobs expanding out of her like a supernova, until she is doubled over in the white hospital bed, clutching her chest. By the time her mascara from three days before is smeared in graying streaks on her face, she realizes how relieved she actually is.
*
They were seventeen. They were fighting.
Well, she was fighting. Dexter was just staring at her, apathetic and blank as usual. Harry barely spoke to her lately, except to correct her. She felt fat, ugly, flat-chested, stupid and, worst of all, useless. Her glasses, which were fogged, just reminded her of all of that, fueling her anger. Her adolescent despair felt like it was reaching fever pitch, with this crushing frustration. She knew that Harry loves (loved) Dexter more.
She felt like he needed to remember why people should hate him, that he should feel exactly like her, right now or she was going to implode from how ugly and useless she felt.
She screamed at him, telling him that he had no friends and that he was a freak. She knew all the names that the older boys called him on the playground. Every single one that flew out of her mouth felt like a knick in her heart. Suddenly he reached out, cupping her cheek, wiping a tear off her hot skin with his thumb. He had taken a step towards her to do this. They caught each other’s eyes.
Deb leaned in. It was almost instinctive. She could feel blood rushing through her body, from her face to her toes. She took a breath, suddenly completely unsure what was going to happen next. He’d leaned toward her and his lips were almost touching hers. For some reason (i love him, he loves me, i know that, i've always known) she leaned even closer, brushing her nose against his, inducing a renewal of the rushing sound in her ears. She could hear her heart beat and she could feel it, pulsing through her entire body. She was suddenly aware of every inch of skin on her body and every inch of her skin felt indescribably beautiful.
She’s so close, she’s so fucking close to him when she realized that she had never kissed a boy before and the idea of where this could lead…it freaked her out so badly that she almost pushed Dexter away from her. But she hesitated and he leaned in and oh god, oh god, what what what he’d kissed her and she’d kissed him and-
Deb pulled away. “I can’t.” She turned away and ran, not looking back. She didn’t want him to see her face; she had to hide how beautiful he'd made her. She put her hand over her mouth, not wanting him to hear her crying still and wanted even less for him to hear her laughing a little, trying to fight the feeling that her feet weren't touching the ground as she gained momentum and hurled herself out the back door.
But she never told Harry, no, not ever. When he asked her what all the shouting earlier had been about, she'd just smiled, hiding behind the thick curtain of her hair. "Nothing."
He'd smiled at her and patted her head. "You look very pretty today Debra." He had returned to his dinner then and she had glanced across the table at Dex, who was staring straight at his pork chop.
*
She’s so fucking embarrassed that she’s doing this. She puts a hand on his shoulder and starts to jostle him a little.
“Dex.”
“Dex.”
“Dex!”
He opens his eyes sleepily. After about five seconds, he looks up, completely alert again, like he’d never been asleep at all. “Can you…could you come sleep with me?” She’s blushing and so she looks away, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Ever since they were young, she’s tried hard not to give him the wrong idea about them.
She knows she loves him, she knows he loves her and that is the only thing she’s sure of, but at least she’s damn sure of it. “I know how it sounds…I just can’t sleep. I just keep thinking…and I can’t stop fucking thinking you know?” She can’t stand to look him in the eyes any longer. She thinks about how normal and happy Rudy had made her feel. Then she thinks about how he had wanted to slit her throat and hang her upside down, draining all her blood into an oil pan. She feels decidedly less normal. But it is nothing compared to how she feels when Dexter lies down next to her.
She turns her back to him immediately. “Deb?” He reaches out, touching her arm. She just lies there. Tears begin to slide down her face again and she feels like some hysterical woman in an episode of Flash Gordon or something. “Deb?” She can hear the worry in his voice, she can hear how much he loves her in his voice. She almost thinks that she could hear it in Rudy’s voice too. But instead, she puts her arms around his neck. She knows that she’s not supposed to be doing this. She knows….well, she might know how he feels about her. He loves her and she loves him. Whatever that needs to mean.
She hides her face in the warm skin of his chest, feeling impossibly fragile, like a glass figurine of a girl. She hates it and hates it and then he puts his arms around her and squeezes a little, almost as if to prove how strong she still is, and Deb Morgan can't really say that she doesn't appreciate it.
*
“You know, you’ll ruin her.”
Her dad's voice floated through the kitchen window.
She had been washing the dishes, enjoying the sound of the yard work and the dimming afternoon coming through the open window while she worked. She saw them out in the yard, sitting with their backs to her.
“Who Da-”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about Dex.” She’d never heard her dad talk to Dexter like that before. She could see the look on Dexter’s face when he turned to look at Dad. He looked panicked, like a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of its inevitable death.
“Dad I swear, I-” She leaned a little further out the window, trying to hear everything that was being said. “Whatever this is, however you feel, you bury it, understand? Debra has a bright future. One day-”
“Debra!”
Her mother called from her bedroom. “Debra! Debra Morgan, you get in here and you help me fold these clothes!” Deb turned back to the window to see Dad taking a sip of beer and clapping Dexter on the back, smiling at him.
*
She can feel herself pushing away from him.
All she does all day is run. She can’t get off the treadmill. As soon as she does, she knows that all the thoughts she’s been running from will catch up. When she ran as much as she does, she knows how to be just that little bit faster then them. She doesn’t see herself wrapped in butcher paper and twine, chopped up like a cow, drained and in pieces.
She listens to Metallica, The Black Album, over and over. It reminds her of when she was fourteen and invincible.
*
The tape is some of the first contraband they ever had. Deb got it from a cute junior at school, whose hair was too long and who wore a denim vest with studs on it. He will try to sell her weed later, something that she will be extremely offended by.
Dexter stared at her while she danced.
She couldn’t tell if he liked the music or not through the blank look on his face. She wanted him to, she wanted this to be their secret; it was a good secret. She loved it, even though wasn't really her style and she wanted him to love it too. It was forbidden and this made it incredibly good. She turned to Dexter and asked him to dance with her.
She can’t remember what he'd said.
*
She hates leaving the apartment a mess. But she gets so distracted. She finds herself staring into space for spaces as long as fifteen minutes at a time.
She remembers sitting down to put on socks and sneakers, ready to start running again, ready to drown out the world with the angriest music she has ( a mix of Britney Spears and Marilyn Manson). She thinks about how good Rudy was in bed. She wonders if this reflects on her somehow. Does she have some weird fetish? Was she raised wrong? Why had she wanted to sleep with him in the first place? Did she just scream desperate or something?
Dexter pokes his head into the room, making her jump. “Deb, do you think you could pick up your clothes? I just had to touch your dirty underwear and I haven’t quite recovered yet.” She stares at him, a hurt look on her face.
“You look like you’ll survive.” He stares at her. She goes back to putting her shoes on. He sighs, throwing his hands up, frustration seeming to emanate from every goddamned cell in his body. She wants to scream at him give me a break! but that's all he's been doing, so she says nothing, sure that this will pass.
After all, they love each other, don't they?
*
“God, Dexter, what the fuck is your problem?”
“I-I-I-” He was stuttering at her, trying to only look down at the floor.
They were sixteen.
She doesn’t remember him coming in. At least that’s what she’s convinced herself. She doesn’t want to believe the alternative.
She was on her back, her legs spread in the tub, her fingers sliding over her clit. And she was so close, so fucking close to coming. She’d been sure she was alone, so when she heard the sharp intake of breath, so close to her, she had been completely horrified. And it was Dexter, Dexter standing there, staring at the floor, face flushed. It was like a nightmare.
“GET OUT!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. At this point, she hadn't cared if Dad, Mom and the whole goddamned, cocksucking neighborhood heard her. She snatched a towel, trying to wrap it around herself and failing in her panic. She saw his eyes dart towards her breasts as her towel fell. She slapped Dexter, more out of instinct then anything.
She stared to push him, her panic growing for some reason. “God, Dexter, what the fuck is your problem?” “I-I-I-” he was staring at her. She pushed him across the threshold and slammed the door in his face.
She hid her face in the towel. She pressed it into her mouth and screamed, muffling it the best she could. She had seen…something in Dexter’s eyes when he looked at her. She had slapped him because it had frightened her so much, she couldn’t even stand to look at him.
*
She can still see it in Dexter’s eyes, every now and then. He will look at her and her blood will rush to her head and she will feel an insane sweep of panic and want. She’ll have to turn away from him then, because the feelings are so bright inside her as to burn.
She doesn’t know why she sees Rudy when she looks into Dexter’s eyes. She is furious with herself for all of this. He loves her (just like Rudy loved her) and she loves him (just like she loved Dad) but sometimes she knows her love isn’t right, that it would make Dad furious.
She hopes that she didn’t ruin everything, forever just like he'd thought she would.
~end~
Comments are great!
Ch Title: decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse
Fandom: Dexter
Rating: R (language, sexuality, incest)
Pairing: Deb/Dexter; mentions Deb/Rudy, Dexter/Rita
Summary: Dexter is having some issues with personal space since Deb moved in.
Set between Seasons 1 & 2. Huge spoilers for S1.
part 1; 'like a patient etherised upon a table'
You know, you’ll ruin her.
*
“Back the fuck off my brother, he just saved my life! He’s a fucking hero! I want you to treat him that way, goddammit!”
Dexter pulls her aside.
Deb can barely see she is so angry. She is absolutely terrified and, she’s sure, somewhere deep inside, completely heartbroken. Dexter is just staring at her, his eyes filled with fear. She feels a fierce swoop of love for him in the pit of her stomach.
He saved her.
He saved her when there was no one, when there was no way she could have survived
She inhaled, savoring the feel of the air in her lungs.
Alive...
*
She couldn’t remember a time that Dexter hadn’t stared at her. Her entire life, she could remember feeling him watching her. This had never bothered her. Well, almost never. After all, Dexter loved her. And she loved him, and she hated him. Just like she’d always been sure that he loved her, she was sure that he hated her too.
She could never explain this if she was asked, but as her first answer to any such question would have produced a pipebomb sized explosion of expletives and the sort of language that would prompt a ‘you kiss your mother with that mouth’ exclamation from any English speaking adult in the vicinity of Deb’s mouth, she was not likely to be asked.
So she didn’t worry about it.
*
When she looks back on the night in question, everything begins to blur together.
She remembers the complete and absolute mind-numbing terror that had gripped her. And she remembers practically peeing on herself in the trunk of the stolen car, scared and unable to go to the bathroom for hours. She remembers repeating over and over to herself in her head not to pee, because if she did, he might just shoot her while he laughed, just to pour table salt in the proverbial wound.
She can also remember the blurry vision of Dexter that had come into focus, just as everything had seemed the bleakest, darkest and closest to (death) doom.
After that, her memories are a bit blurred (not shouting at Doakes though, that had been completely clear). In the ambulance she remembers Dexter holding her while she cried. He had looked at her so lovingly, as if she was so perfect, just for existing. Then, for a moment, she sees something in his eyes that scares her, something that she’s never (ever!) noticed before.
She’s stung then, in the morning, when she wakes up alone in the hospital. She starts to cry, sobs expanding out of her like a supernova, until she is doubled over in the white hospital bed, clutching her chest. By the time her mascara from three days before is smeared in graying streaks on her face, she realizes how relieved she actually is.
*
They were seventeen. They were fighting.
Well, she was fighting. Dexter was just staring at her, apathetic and blank as usual. Harry barely spoke to her lately, except to correct her. She felt fat, ugly, flat-chested, stupid and, worst of all, useless. Her glasses, which were fogged, just reminded her of all of that, fueling her anger. Her adolescent despair felt like it was reaching fever pitch, with this crushing frustration. She knew that Harry loves (loved) Dexter more.
She felt like he needed to remember why people should hate him, that he should feel exactly like her, right now or she was going to implode from how ugly and useless she felt.
She screamed at him, telling him that he had no friends and that he was a freak. She knew all the names that the older boys called him on the playground. Every single one that flew out of her mouth felt like a knick in her heart. Suddenly he reached out, cupping her cheek, wiping a tear off her hot skin with his thumb. He had taken a step towards her to do this. They caught each other’s eyes.
Deb leaned in. It was almost instinctive. She could feel blood rushing through her body, from her face to her toes. She took a breath, suddenly completely unsure what was going to happen next. He’d leaned toward her and his lips were almost touching hers. For some reason (i love him, he loves me, i know that, i've always known) she leaned even closer, brushing her nose against his, inducing a renewal of the rushing sound in her ears. She could hear her heart beat and she could feel it, pulsing through her entire body. She was suddenly aware of every inch of skin on her body and every inch of her skin felt indescribably beautiful.
She’s so close, she’s so fucking close to him when she realized that she had never kissed a boy before and the idea of where this could lead…it freaked her out so badly that she almost pushed Dexter away from her. But she hesitated and he leaned in and oh god, oh god, what what what he’d kissed her and she’d kissed him and-
Deb pulled away. “I can’t.” She turned away and ran, not looking back. She didn’t want him to see her face; she had to hide how beautiful he'd made her. She put her hand over her mouth, not wanting him to hear her crying still and wanted even less for him to hear her laughing a little, trying to fight the feeling that her feet weren't touching the ground as she gained momentum and hurled herself out the back door.
But she never told Harry, no, not ever. When he asked her what all the shouting earlier had been about, she'd just smiled, hiding behind the thick curtain of her hair. "Nothing."
He'd smiled at her and patted her head. "You look very pretty today Debra." He had returned to his dinner then and she had glanced across the table at Dex, who was staring straight at his pork chop.
*
She’s so fucking embarrassed that she’s doing this. She puts a hand on his shoulder and starts to jostle him a little.
“Dex.”
“Dex.”
“Dex!”
He opens his eyes sleepily. After about five seconds, he looks up, completely alert again, like he’d never been asleep at all. “Can you…could you come sleep with me?” She’s blushing and so she looks away, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Ever since they were young, she’s tried hard not to give him the wrong idea about them.
She knows she loves him, she knows he loves her and that is the only thing she’s sure of, but at least she’s damn sure of it. “I know how it sounds…I just can’t sleep. I just keep thinking…and I can’t stop fucking thinking you know?” She can’t stand to look him in the eyes any longer. She thinks about how normal and happy Rudy had made her feel. Then she thinks about how he had wanted to slit her throat and hang her upside down, draining all her blood into an oil pan. She feels decidedly less normal. But it is nothing compared to how she feels when Dexter lies down next to her.
She turns her back to him immediately. “Deb?” He reaches out, touching her arm. She just lies there. Tears begin to slide down her face again and she feels like some hysterical woman in an episode of Flash Gordon or something. “Deb?” She can hear the worry in his voice, she can hear how much he loves her in his voice. She almost thinks that she could hear it in Rudy’s voice too. But instead, she puts her arms around his neck. She knows that she’s not supposed to be doing this. She knows….well, she might know how he feels about her. He loves her and she loves him. Whatever that needs to mean.
She hides her face in the warm skin of his chest, feeling impossibly fragile, like a glass figurine of a girl. She hates it and hates it and then he puts his arms around her and squeezes a little, almost as if to prove how strong she still is, and Deb Morgan can't really say that she doesn't appreciate it.
*
“You know, you’ll ruin her.”
Her dad's voice floated through the kitchen window.
She had been washing the dishes, enjoying the sound of the yard work and the dimming afternoon coming through the open window while she worked. She saw them out in the yard, sitting with their backs to her.
“Who Da-”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about Dex.” She’d never heard her dad talk to Dexter like that before. She could see the look on Dexter’s face when he turned to look at Dad. He looked panicked, like a deer caught in the oncoming headlights of its inevitable death.
“Dad I swear, I-” She leaned a little further out the window, trying to hear everything that was being said. “Whatever this is, however you feel, you bury it, understand? Debra has a bright future. One day-”
“Debra!”
Her mother called from her bedroom. “Debra! Debra Morgan, you get in here and you help me fold these clothes!” Deb turned back to the window to see Dad taking a sip of beer and clapping Dexter on the back, smiling at him.
*
She can feel herself pushing away from him.
All she does all day is run. She can’t get off the treadmill. As soon as she does, she knows that all the thoughts she’s been running from will catch up. When she ran as much as she does, she knows how to be just that little bit faster then them. She doesn’t see herself wrapped in butcher paper and twine, chopped up like a cow, drained and in pieces.
She listens to Metallica, The Black Album, over and over. It reminds her of when she was fourteen and invincible.
*
The tape is some of the first contraband they ever had. Deb got it from a cute junior at school, whose hair was too long and who wore a denim vest with studs on it. He will try to sell her weed later, something that she will be extremely offended by.
Dexter stared at her while she danced.
She couldn’t tell if he liked the music or not through the blank look on his face. She wanted him to, she wanted this to be their secret; it was a good secret. She loved it, even though wasn't really her style and she wanted him to love it too. It was forbidden and this made it incredibly good. She turned to Dexter and asked him to dance with her.
She can’t remember what he'd said.
*
She hates leaving the apartment a mess. But she gets so distracted. She finds herself staring into space for spaces as long as fifteen minutes at a time.
She remembers sitting down to put on socks and sneakers, ready to start running again, ready to drown out the world with the angriest music she has ( a mix of Britney Spears and Marilyn Manson). She thinks about how good Rudy was in bed. She wonders if this reflects on her somehow. Does she have some weird fetish? Was she raised wrong? Why had she wanted to sleep with him in the first place? Did she just scream desperate or something?
Dexter pokes his head into the room, making her jump. “Deb, do you think you could pick up your clothes? I just had to touch your dirty underwear and I haven’t quite recovered yet.” She stares at him, a hurt look on her face.
“You look like you’ll survive.” He stares at her. She goes back to putting her shoes on. He sighs, throwing his hands up, frustration seeming to emanate from every goddamned cell in his body. She wants to scream at him give me a break! but that's all he's been doing, so she says nothing, sure that this will pass.
After all, they love each other, don't they?
*
“God, Dexter, what the fuck is your problem?”
“I-I-I-” He was stuttering at her, trying to only look down at the floor.
They were sixteen.
She doesn’t remember him coming in. At least that’s what she’s convinced herself. She doesn’t want to believe the alternative.
She was on her back, her legs spread in the tub, her fingers sliding over her clit. And she was so close, so fucking close to coming. She’d been sure she was alone, so when she heard the sharp intake of breath, so close to her, she had been completely horrified. And it was Dexter, Dexter standing there, staring at the floor, face flushed. It was like a nightmare.
“GET OUT!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. At this point, she hadn't cared if Dad, Mom and the whole goddamned, cocksucking neighborhood heard her. She snatched a towel, trying to wrap it around herself and failing in her panic. She saw his eyes dart towards her breasts as her towel fell. She slapped Dexter, more out of instinct then anything.
She stared to push him, her panic growing for some reason. “God, Dexter, what the fuck is your problem?” “I-I-I-” he was staring at her. She pushed him across the threshold and slammed the door in his face.
She hid her face in the towel. She pressed it into her mouth and screamed, muffling it the best she could. She had seen…something in Dexter’s eyes when he looked at her. She had slapped him because it had frightened her so much, she couldn’t even stand to look at him.
*
She can still see it in Dexter’s eyes, every now and then. He will look at her and her blood will rush to her head and she will feel an insane sweep of panic and want. She’ll have to turn away from him then, because the feelings are so bright inside her as to burn.
She doesn’t know why she sees Rudy when she looks into Dexter’s eyes. She is furious with herself for all of this. He loves her (just like Rudy loved her) and she loves him (just like she loved Dad) but sometimes she knows her love isn’t right, that it would make Dad furious.
She hopes that she didn’t ruin everything, forever just like he'd thought she would.
~end~
Comments are great!