Work Text:
"Sorry, s'cuse me, thank you!" You squeezed by Doakes, who stood in the doorway, talking to Angel and currently having no spatial awareness.
"Here Angel, your order." Your eyes zoomed through the various coffees you had in your carrier box, and you pulled out the correct order, with "Angel" written on it.
"Thanks, chica." He gave you an honest smile. While Doakes eyed you a bit.
"No problem, gotta dash." You smiled back, turning away.
"Hey, hold on." Doakes sounded out, making Angel sigh. Seems like he knows what'll happen already...
"Where are you going with the rest?"
"Oh! To the lab rats."
"Morgan needs two coffees?" Doakes squints, tone almost judgmental. "What's he needing to be so energised for, huh? Staying up all night?"
"I... one's for Masuka, boss." You shrug, eyes uncomfortably squinted, not understanding the sudden insistence -and seemingly- slight aggression.
"I just think it's funny how-"
"Hey, by the way, what did you think about that last case?" Angel coughed loudly, getting Doakes' attention, and giving you just enough time to turn away and flee!
Thanks Angel.
You zoomed through the office, knocking on the door of the lab right as you got there.
"Yeah?" You hear a familiar voice inside and let yourself in. The lab was dark, and therefore pretty intimate. Random music played in the back, most likely Masuka's choice this time. The labs sometimes needed to be dark for some tests, but most of the time they didn't turn the light back on. It was definitely more fun here than in the bull pen, plus, no Doakes around to lift his judgmental eyebrow at you.
Your eyes landed on the tool-filled lab table. There sat Dexter, delicately adjusting a microscope with furrowed eyebrows.
"Who is it? Can’t look up..." He mumbled as he stared into the glass.
"Hey, just me. Stopping by with your order, sweetheart." You chirp as you set two coffees on Dexter's desk, somewhere safe and far away where it wouldn't spill on any of his important work.
"Lifesaver, thanks." He rumbles and gives you a thumbs up.
"Hey, can I leave Masuka's with you also? I really don't wanna be talking to him." You sighed, hoping he'd accept. At that, Dex lifted his head.
"Why? Is there a problem between you two?" He looked at you, eyes quickly going up and down your person. He was studying whether you were hurt in some way.
"Nah, it's just Masuka being Masuka." You chuckle and lean on his table, looking down at him with a smile.
"I get it... still, I can tell him to tone it down if it gets too much." He mumbled, setting his pen down and wheeling his chair towards the coffee.
"Wack him over the head with a microscope?" You grin, watching Dexter.
"While a blunt weapon is a good method on how to kill somebody, it's too messy and risky. You'd be shocked how much a human cranium can withstand." He looked at you, humming as he took a sip of his coffee.
"Okay, we got a serial killer over here!" You grin, tilting your head. Oh that beautiful grin... Morgan had to shake his head a little to rock his brain awake, or else he could've been staring stupidly at it for hours on end.
"I'd make for a terrible serial killer. I work at a police station, I'd be caught in a minute!" He rolls his eyes, but feels the dark passenger hiss in the back seat like an upset little toddler.
"Besides, I wouldn't get to see you behind bars." He shrugged, bringing the cup close to him again.
"What, you protecting me?" You grinned as you saw him smell his coffee, then lift his eyes to look at you... eyes gazing at you through his lashes. Good look on him.
"More than you'd know." He quipped back, smiling cheekily.
Yeah. More than you'd know. He remembers how the maggot psycho was after you.
One fucked up killer who fed his corpses to a bug farm that disposed of the bodies perfectly. He didn't have the space or money for pigs, so maggots it was.
The cases were more disturbing the longer they went on, and Dexter almost panicked when he found out that you were his next victim. He caught the bug guy just as he was stalking you home, ready to clobber you over the head.
Dex had to pull him to the nearest back alley as he attempted to put him to sleep. He had a nasty bruise after that scuffle...
After the guy was properly dealth with, Dexter offered you rides home for weeks... those rides turned into: 'Hey, you spend so much gas money on me, come inside, I'll make dinner', which then turned into: 'I can drive you to work today, I got it on my way' and then right to: 'Y'know what, it's pouring out there, people can't drive in the rain. Wanna sleep over?'.
At first Dex didn't want any of this. Keeping everyone at arm's length was safe, of course. It'd protect someone as sweet as you, and it'd keep the code going. Just what Harry would've wanted. But strangely, he found out that being near you shushed the passenger almost as good as following the code he had. You were the best kind of person, one who was so kind and nice... sometimes he thought he didn't deserve you. When he watched you sleep in your bed while laying next to you, you just looked so at peace... so unaware, so... happy. He liked that look on you, happy.
When you told him that he was, in fact, the source of your happiness, he had decided that you being happy will be his life's second most important mission. He would keep you happy no matter what.
Even though from him, it sounds like a threat...
"So... you wanna come over tonight? Or are you working late again?" You asked, playing with the now-empty box. He stared at your fingers... nervous, happy jitters of energy going through them. You're antsy, but excited. You want him to visit again. He's never had a feeling like this... feeling. Harry would be fuming, that's for sure.
"Is there a... reason why you're asking?" He asked right back, tilting his head with a teasing smirk.
"You're being mean." You grin. A gorgeous little smile. That smile that always lit up the room for him.
"I mean... I *was* planning to work late but..." He scratches the back of his head, as if he were deeply thinking.
"... I could be convinced to leave a little earlier if you'd be making that lasagna again." He looked at you with what you could only describe as... puppy eyes?
"So you did like it!" You smile bright.
"Why do you think there were no leftovers?" He smiles back, taking a sip of his coffee as he sways back and forth in his chair.
"I was convinced it was terrible..."
"Well, I would love to convince you otherwise." He hummed into his cup.
"Alright, I'll make it again. Text you when it goes in the oven so you can start packing and come home to it being done."
"Come home?"
"I mean... come over. You know what I meant." You tsked, shaking your head to correct yourself.
That thought lingered in his head though... maybe you thought of him coming over like him coming home to you. Maybe he's looking too much into it, but it is a nice thought to him. Maybe you really did like him being around.
"I'll be there on time. Promise." He smiled, his hand moving over before he could stop it, and gave your own hand a squeeze.
He saw your lips quirk up.
"Alright... see you." You leaned down to his seated height and kissed his cheek. You leaned off the table right after, and took your leave, only to be swiftly exchanged by entering Masuka, who looked you up and down as you left. He then proceeded to look at Dexter.
"Did you-"
"Not a word."
"Oh you two *fuckin'* fuckin'." He grinned like an idiot, making Dexter sigh.
"I'm coming over for the lasagna. She's a great cook."
"Oh yeah, for sure. The sticky, messy, hot and wet lasagna."
"... You need to go outside..."
That night, while you played music in your apartment and prepped the beautiful meal, Dexter was out, doing his real work. He managed to snag a rapist today. It was one of the cases he enjoyed much more than the rest. Pretend to be someone on the internet, ask to meet up and then... put the guy to sleep.
Morgan hummed to a tune he put on as he tied the guy tightly onto the table with his trusty plastic wrap.
"Let me hear your body talk... your body talk..." he mused as the guy started waking up. Dexter took that as his cue to lower the volume so they could have a chat.
"Where the fuck..."
"Hi."
"What...?"
"I said 'hi'. You deaf? Or no hablo inglés?" Dexter tilted his head with a smile. He loved his work.
"Where am I..? Who are you??" The guy croaked out.
"You're at the end of the road, buddy." Dexter mused as he stepped away to the table, picking up a few pictures.
"Look, normally I would drag this out and drill trauma into you as much as I could, but I've got lasagna and a gorgeous woman waiting for me at home, and I'd hate to keep either waiting." He hummed, turning back to the criminal.
"Speaking of which... tell me, Michael, do you recognize these women?" He lifted a few pictures up in his hand. The guy immediately started sputtering something that sounded like a curse or a panicked wail. Ugh... he didn't love *this* part of his work...
"No Michael, don't start. Don't start."
"I'm innocent, you've got the wrong guy! I didn't touch those girls!" He immediately started whining.
"Jesus- shut up! God, no one cares." Dex groaned. "All you do is whine whine whine 'Oh it wasn't me weh weh-' shut up." He sighed as he bent over the guy.
"No one said anything about touching the girls. No one but you. That only adds to my suspicions y'know?" He tilted his head.
Dexter proceeded to lift a picture of a girl.
"Samantha Filtz. Twenty-four." He lifted a picture, staring the living trash of a human being directly in the face.
"And this one? Mariah Carlson. *Eighteen*. You sick fuck. You make me sick to my stomach." He leaned away from the guy, setting the photos back down on his table.
"You- you're no different! You strap people up like some freak for a snuff film! Where're the cameras, huh??" The guy barked, voice breathy and shaky.
"Oh no, you and I are nothing alike, in a whole bunch of ways. First of all, I'm tired of your yapping." Dexter proceeds to tape his mouth shut, jokingly smacking the tape right after. He turned to get his blade ready, checking the sharpness right in front of his deserving victim.
"And second of all, I actually know how to treat a woman with respect." He mused.
"And that woman is waiting for me at home. With a gorgeous smile, bright eyes and... the most perfect lasagna that you will never see. I just want you to stop and think about how so much better I am, Michael. About how much you fucked up at life. Now, how about we finish up here, so I can get home in time for dinner?" Dexter smiles at him, raising the blade above his head.
The water sloshes calmly as he hums, tossing big garbage bags into the ocean.
"Let's get physical... physical... damn you, sweetheart, for putting that song in my head." He sighs, and like on cue, a text comes up on his phone.
"Lasagna is ready! You're gonna love it!" Your tone was almost audible from the cheery text. It had Dexter sit on the edge of the slice of life, and almost kick his feet like a schoolboy.
"Definitely not as much as I love you." He texted back.
"Good one. I'll give you that one." Your text came back quickly.
"I'll be home in a bit."
"Home?"
"I'll come over in a bit. You know what I meant." He had to smile to himself as he got caught in the 'home' miswording as well as you.
Sure enough, as you pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it down on the countertop, you heard steps behind you, and were soon enveloped in a hug from behind.
"Hey~" You grinned as you felt him squeeze you lovingly.
"Y'know, I hate to say it, but you and your cooking are having me wrapped around your finger. At this point I don't even feel like leaving your apartment." He rumbled as he gazed at the warm and beautiful meal, arms wrapped around your body, and his hands holding yours. While he talked, every second word was interrupted with a smooch to your neck.
"You're in a good mood." You chirp as you start cutting the food.
"Work went... smoothly." He hummed as he ate a piece of leftover cheese on the counter's cutting board.
"Oh yeah? What did you work on?"
"D- uh... dissection of my work."
"Dissection?"
"Mhm. Just... I like to cut up my work and really focus on the details. Sometimes it reveals more than one thinks." He avoided eye contact as he watched you handle the knife. Beautiful soft hands on something that could be so twisted sometimes...
"I love how you are... *you*, Dex." You said, looking at him with a smile as you set his slice on a plate.
That was probably the sweetest thing he heard in a while... Jesus, you were perfect. He accepted the plate, brushing hands with you on purpose.
"You shouldn't say that, that's dangerous." He mused, giving you that look from under his lashes again, accompanied by his devilish smile.
"Well, maybe I like dangerous." You grinned.
"You certainly do." He smirked as he walked by, kissing your cheek, making his way to the living room.
About an hour later, you're watching the telly... you're cuddled up to Dexter's side, playing with one of his hands as you watch the moving picture.
"Wanna sleep over?" You hummed suddenly.
"Would it make me sound like an asshole if I said that... I was already counting on it?" He hums right back, holding you a bit tighter.
"Not at all" You chuckle, snuggling right up close to him.
That night, as you snooze, cuddled in your sheets, with your eyes shut tight, Dexter watches you. Your chest rises up and down, your pulse is steady and your face occasionally twitches. Sweet dreams, he can only hope. He barely gets any sleep as is, but you definitely make sleep look enticing.
No matter what Harry said, he definitely feels something. It may be the most dangerous emotion out of all of them, but... he might give in.
You're worth protecting, you're beautiful, you're kind... You might give him another purpose besides being the Bay Harbor butcher. With a sigh, he shifts closer, hugging you to him.
"Mmm..." you hum from your sleep as he wraps his arm around you, feeling your skin on his. Everything about you is so perfect to him.
It was a good day.