Work Text:
Act I
The neon at O’Malley’s flickered like a confession. Deb was on her third beer, Batista was nursing his patience, and Masuka… was thriving in chaos.
“So,” Masuka began, elbows on the sticky table, “you ever notice how Doakes and Morgan fight like they’re married?”
Batista sighed. “Not this again.”
Deb muttered, “Christ, Vince, you need a hobby that isn’t psychological warfare.”
Masuka grinned. “This is my hobby. You can’t tell me those two don’t have unresolved tension. The way they stare each other down? That’s not hate—that’s foreplay with extra homicide paperwork.”
Batista groaned. “They literally tried to kill each other once.”
“Exactly! Passion! You can’t fake that kind of intensity,” Masuka said, leaning in. “Doakes yells, Dexter smirks—it’s a power exchange. I’d bet my next paycheck they’ve got a safe word.”
Deb slammed her beer down. “A safe what?”
“Relax, it’s probably something cop-appropriate. Like ‘affirmative’ or ‘10-4.’”
“Jesus Christ.”
Masuka shrugged. “What? The man’s ex–Special Ops. You know he’s got handcuff proficiency.”
Batista pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop saying words.”
“I’m just saying,” Masuka went on, “Dexter’s the quiet type. You know what that means.”
Deb scowled. “No. And I don’t want to.”
“Fine,” he said, smirking. “It means he follows instructions really well.”
Deb gagged. “I’m leaving.”
Batista muttered, “Please do, before Internal Affairs gets wind of this conversation.”
Masuka raised his beer like a toast. “Science, baby.”
Act II
The next morning hit like a hangover wearing a badge.
Deb walked into the precinct in sunglasses and caffeine armor. Batista looked like he’d seen God and regretted it.
Masuka, however, was glowing.
“Morning, degenerates!” he sang.
“Vince,” Deb said flatly, “what did you do.”
He froze mid-sip of coffee. “...Define do.”
Batista groaned. “Please tell me that’s not the bar recording.”
Masuka’s grin faltered. “Uh… okay, so, funny story—my smartwatch has this cool voice memo feature, right?”
Deb’s eyes widened. “No.”
“I thought, hey, why not test it? So I cleaned the audio, added some music—bam! Instant podcast.”
“A PODCAST?!”
“Yeah! It’s called Behind the Badge. Kinda catchy, right?”
Batista sighed. “You didn’t post it, did you?”
Masuka hesitated. “...Define post.”
“Vince.”
“Okay! I only sent it to one person!”
Deb leaned forward dangerously. “Who.”
“Dexter!”
There was a long, terrible silence.
“You—sent—the podcast—to—Dexter,” Deb said slowly, each word dripping horror.
Masuka nodded, cheerful in his doom. “He’s got a dark sense of humor! I thought he’d appreciate it.”
Batista whispered, “You just sent smut fanfiction to its protagonist.”
“Creative nonfiction,” Masuka corrected.
“MASUKA.”
Cue elevator.
Dexter and Doakes walked out. Calm. Composed. Deadly.
The bullpen froze.
Dexter smiled pleasantly. “Good morning.”
Masuka squeaked. “Hi, Dex!”
Doakes frowned. “Why’s everyone acting like they broke the law?”
“No reason!” Deb said.
Dexter tilted his head. “You’ve been talking about us.”
Masuka panicked. “No! Well, yes, but not like that.”
“Like what?” Doakes asked, suspicion sharpening.
Masuka blurted, “Like… rope safety training and trust exercises!”
Dexter sipped his coffee, amused. “I did enjoy your ‘team-building’ theory.”
Doakes glared. “What the hell did you send him?”
“Educational content!” Masuka squealed.
Dexter smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, Sergeant. I’m not offended.”
Doakes muttered, “You’re all insane,” and stormed off.
Dexter followed, smirking.
Masuka grinned. “See? They didn’t kill me.”
Deb muttered, “Yet.”
Act III
Two days later, the email hit everyone’s inbox.
Subject: FW: “Behind the Badge — Episode 1: Rope Safety and the Modern Detective.”
From: Internal Affairs
Batista dropped his donut. Deb screamed. Masuka whispered, “Oh no, they found my art.”
LaGuerta summoned them like a vengeful goddess.
Inside the conference room, she hit play.
Masuka’s voice: “You ever notice how Doakes says ‘Morgan’ like he’s about to throw him on a desk?”
Batista choked on air. Deb turned scarlet.
Masuka: “They’ve probably got a safe word.”
LaGuerta’s face remained neutral, but her eyes said I will end you.
When the recording ended, silence reigned.
LaGuerta folded her arms. “This never leaves this room.”
Masuka raised a hand. “Technically, it’s already on the shared drive.”
“Vince.”
He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
By the afternoon, the rumor had metastasized.
Half the precinct was pretending it was about someone else. The other half was taking bets.
Masuka was delighted. “We’re trending internally!”
Deb hurled a file folder at his head. “You’re trending toward unemployment!”
Batista sighed. “At this point, HR’s gonna need holy water.”
Act IV
A week later, the inevitable happened.
From: HR
Subject: Workplace Conduct ClarificationJames Doakes / Dexter Morgan – Mutual Relashionship Arrangement.
Please schedule your relationship disclosure meeting within 48 hours.
Silence.
Then Masuka whispered, “Oh my god. It’s canon.”
From the far end of the bullpen, a roar:
“MASUKA!!!”
Doakes, papers in hand, storming forward. Dexter behind him, suspiciously calm.
Masuka blinked. “Oh no. Oh no.”
He bolted for the exit. “Gotta run—peace out! SCIENCE, BABY!”
The bullpen erupted in laughter.
Batista groaned. “You think HR’s hiring replacements?”
Deb smirked. “If they are, they better bring rope safety training.”