Chapter Text
In the darkness of the car, Dexter sat beside Rita but his mind wasn't there. His thoughts were consumed by the crime scene they had just left behind. The precision, the intricacy, it was all like a carefully crafted piece of art, an art form that only a true artist could create. Dexter was astonished by the corpse, something that normally didn't happen, he even started at the body, how could he? How could he do that in front of everyone? For him it was worth it, it was a type of neatness that he admired.
Rita glanced sideways at him, a concern etched on her face.
"Dexter? Are you okay?"
Even with Rita's callings he couldn't take the scene out of his mind.
His fingers drummed against her high in silent contemplation.
"Here.. "
Dexter whispered, referring exclusively to the thigh of the body, the boneless part still lingered in his mind.
"I can't! "
"Sorry Dexter, but I don't think I'm ready! "
Coming out of his coma, Dexter looked surprised at Rita.
"And I think"
Her voice was shaky and tearful, her eyes holding back tears that hadn't been shed by a hair's breadth. Rita bit her own lips as if the action would prevent her from completely breaking down.
"And I think I'll never be"
She quickly got out of the car and runned away.
Dexter remained frozen in the driver’s seat, staring blankly at the space where Rita had just been.
Thanks to his weirdness Rita thought that he wanted sex, he lost his perfect disguise, what will he do?
Normal people. What did they do? Movies suggested dramatic gestures, flowers, apologies. Too late for that now, it wasn't that type of problem. Ice cream and melancholy? Too dramatic for his taste. Then it struck him with clinical clarity, bars. What does every human being do when they're sad? They drank of course, Angel did that all the time, that was his time, Dexter would go to a bar, drink a little then call his "friends " to help him forget about Rita, in the end he would just need to drink a little, perfect.
He turned on the car and went to the closest bar near him, luckily, it was a bar that Angel Batista-no-relation went to a lot, so it would be easy for Angel to join him.
The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where secrets were exchanged over cheap drinks. Dexter took his beer, nodding in thanks to the barman. He was halfway through a swallow when he heard it, a low, unexpected voice, just a breath away from his ear.
"I know you"
Dexter's body reacted faster than his brain, turning with feline grace to face the speaker. His expression was cool, controlled, but beneath the surface, his thoughts raced.
He didn't know the man, he could say that the man should be considered attractive, with slightly curly black hair, and a charming smile. The only thing that put Dexter on alert about the man was his gaze, his eyes revealed something dark behind them, and oh, the dark passenger loved that.
Something in the man was familiar but he didn't know what, maybe was his shadow, that could explain the dark passenger interest.
"Sorry, do I know you? "
Dexter gave one of the best charming smiles.
"Maybe"
The mysterious man gave him a cherished smile.
"I saw you at the crime scene earlier this morning."
What? How could he? Dexter was sure that he would recognize someone from the police, but this man, no, he wasn't from the police, nor an ordinary civilian.
"The way you were looking at it, it looked like you were in an art museum. "
This stranger had been watching him at the crime scene. And worse, he recognized something in his gaze that others usually missed
"I don't know what you're talking about. "
He tried to explain but his voice was so flawed and rushed that not even Dexter would believe himself.
"Yes you know"
The man whispered, just now Dexter realized that the stranger was closer than he was originally.
"Did you liked? "
The chatter of other patrons faded, almost as if the world outside had receded to give them space. The once-bustling bar seemed to shrink into shadow, enveloping them in a bubble of tense isolation.
Dexter was acutely aware of the other man's gaze, studying him with a keen, almost reverent gaze. His own beer remained untouched, a thin layer of condensation clinging to the glass like sweat on a brow.
He waited in the silence like a fox waiting for the hunters to leave.
"I got it, you are shy"
The stranger leaned in further, they were a breath apart. His words caressed the air between them, warm and faintly tinged with something that could have passed for excitement, or hunger.
"Dont worry I will tell you something
so you'll feel more comfortable. "
"I'm the one who did it"
Dexter widened his eyes in an almost comical way, the way the man spoke was not that of a liar, the dark passenger purred at the Man's words, for some reason the dark passenger really liked this mysterious subject.
"Prove it"
Dexter hissed gaining back his courage, he wasn't from the police, and he could feel it, well, the dark passenger could feel it, but it didn't matter, he need to be afraid of the man not because he was a threat to his normal identity but because he was indeed dangerous, and Dexter was much more confident in a fight between serial killer than a fight between the police.
“The first corpse”
“The body had a butterfly tattoo.
So bad that I cut them in half, I have to say that it gave more meaning than initiallyI thought. “
Not a lot of people knew about the tatto, and if the stranger wasn't from the police that could only mean that.
"So you're really him"
His eyes were full of childish admiration.
"I'm happy someone likes my work, especially someone so cute as you. "
A smirk, sharp as a predator's smile, lifted the corners of the stranger's lips. His gaze flicked over Dexter with an almost predatory interest
"Since you already have proof of my identity, why don't we formally introduce ourselves?"
The stranger extended his hand, offering a firm handshake, a gesture that seemed too polite for the intensity of his stare.
"Name's Rudy Cooper," he said, smooth as blood falling from a cut. But before Dexter could react, Rudy abruptly pulled him closer by their still clasped hands, lips grazing the shell of Dexter’s ear as he whispered.
"But that’s not my real name."
Just like that, the grip vanished. The warmth of contact evaporated in an instant, leaving only the ghost of breath against Dexter's skin and fingers suddenly chilled in open air.
"So we aren't friends enough for real names? "
Dexter said sarcastically, he could feel his face getting hotter, this wasn't a thing that usually happens, Already missing the warmth of Rudy's hand.
"No no, dont say that"
Rudy's laughs were soft and sweet, not really matching his identity.
"This has been my identity for a while. "
"Rudy Cooper is my civil self "
"And you?"
"Dexter Morgan."
Rudy's eyes narrowed like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey.
"You know what Dexter? What do you think about coming over to my place? "
Trust a fellow killer not to murder you in their own place? A risky choice, but Dexter's curiosity burned in his mind, what was this artist's mind like?
"See where the magic is done"
Well, this was a way of forgetting the end of a romantic relationship.