TEMPER

Dexter strokes his fingers up Gabriel's thigh, hoping for attention. A threatening growl from the killer stops him in his tracks.

"Want you," he whispers softly, pressing his nose into the softness of Gabriel's belly.

"I'm reading," Gabriel murmurs.

"You've read that before," Dexter growls back, unhappy at not getting his own way.

"And?"

"So you can remember every word already. Come on, tell me what page you're on, I'll tell you what it says."

"That's not the point," Gabriel holds the book away and regards the watchmaker carefully. Dexter is practically climbing into his lap, gazing up at him adoringly. Gabriel has to admit, he does look…appetizing, but Foster is due back soon, and he might have company with him. It's unlikely, but there's still a chance. The nurse is determined to try and establish peace between his lovers and his niece, which is why he extracted a promise to be on their best behaviour from them both before he left.

"What is the point then?" Dexter slumps to the floor between the killer's legs, resting his chin on Gabriel's knee and leaning his shoulder against the chair. Gabriel goes back to his book without answering. After a few moments, he slides his hand into Dexter's hair and strokes, absentmindedly.

"I AM NOT A DOG!"

Gabriel yelps with surprise as Dexter launches himself at him, when the watchmaker loses his temper he doesn't hold back. There's a moment of dizzying disorientation, then the armchair falls backwards with a whooomph and a crash, the killer's teeth rattling with the impact. He tries desperately to recover, but it's hard to breathe with Dexter practically sitting on his chest.

You need to lose some weight, tubby, Gabriel thinks.

Fuck you, Dexter returns, he kisses the killer, hard, refusing to let him breathe. Gabriel fights for a few seconds, then surrenders, grabbing Dexter by the hair and responding hungrily to the kiss. After all, disappointing the watchmaker is a dangerous business, not one to be undertaken lightly, he's living proof of that. Dexter softens in his arms, relaxing as he realises he's not going to be denied.

Bedroom?

Bedroom.

"Oh my god that's disgusting!" a girl's voice gasps from the direction of the front door. Dexter and Gabriel both stop, looking up. Martha is standing in the doorway, her facial expression a mixture of horror and fascination. Foster stands behind her, staring at them despairingly.

"So much for making a good impression," he mutters hopelessly, "I can't leave you two alone for thirty minutes, can I?"

It's been thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds, actually…

He started it…

"I DID NOT!"

"YES YOU DID! YOU JUST LEAPT ON ME!"

"YOU WERE IGNORING ME!"

"YOU WERE TRYING FOR SEX, YOU KNEW I DIDN'T WANT A SCENE LIKE THIS!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE TRYING TO BLAME ME!"

"IT'S YOUR FAULT!"

"BITCH!"

"SLUT!"

"Are they always like this?" Martha whispers, stepping back against Foster.

"No," Foster replies, sighing heavily. He wonders if she means the sex, or the arguing, or both, then decides it doesn't really matter. "Sometimes they sleep."