![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Lies and Delusions
Fandom: Dexter
Pairing: Maybe kind of Dexter/Doakes? If you squint.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Doakes isn't about to let Dexter screw with his head... but when you're left alone long enough, sometimes your head doesn't need any help with that...
AN: This is a tiny drabble for the now-defunct serial_drabbles challenge comm. The challenge was "Lies." GeLishan was my lovely beta.
I own you.
It was a lie. Just three words meant to fuck with James, to throw him off his game. Even as the Sergeant paced inside his cage, with no escape in sight, he knew that he was the man with the trump card, the only one who had any power over that dangerous Dexter. He had the truth all there in his head, where nobody could take it away from him. Torture him, kill him, keep him locked away forever – it didn’t matter. He was the only keeper of the bastard’s secret identity. Above all, he was his own man.
The buzz of adrenaline was starting to wear thin. Over the protests of his pride, James reached for a slice of fresh bread that Morgan had left him. No matter how low he had to go, he needed to survive. It was too late to give up, after all the hot nights he’d spent following that freak in his car, the hours at work barely able to focus on anything but his quarry’s next move, his own loss of trust in his rock-solid instincts, the bridges he’d burned with Maria, the…
Oh, motherfuck.
He does own me.
Fandom: Dexter
Pairing: Maybe kind of Dexter/Doakes? If you squint.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Doakes isn't about to let Dexter screw with his head... but when you're left alone long enough, sometimes your head doesn't need any help with that...
AN: This is a tiny drabble for the now-defunct serial_drabbles challenge comm. The challenge was "Lies." GeLishan was my lovely beta.
I own you.
It was a lie. Just three words meant to fuck with James, to throw him off his game. Even as the Sergeant paced inside his cage, with no escape in sight, he knew that he was the man with the trump card, the only one who had any power over that dangerous Dexter. He had the truth all there in his head, where nobody could take it away from him. Torture him, kill him, keep him locked away forever – it didn’t matter. He was the only keeper of the bastard’s secret identity. Above all, he was his own man.
The buzz of adrenaline was starting to wear thin. Over the protests of his pride, James reached for a slice of fresh bread that Morgan had left him. No matter how low he had to go, he needed to survive. It was too late to give up, after all the hot nights he’d spent following that freak in his car, the hours at work barely able to focus on anything but his quarry’s next move, his own loss of trust in his rock-solid instincts, the bridges he’d burned with Maria, the…
Oh, motherfuck.
He does own me.