Your ex-girlfriend and your current one couldn’t be more fucking different—even if you met them both through Dexter and Jaime. Hannah literally went to prison for murder, and Deb was a goddamn cop. Okay, used to be a cop. Lately she’d loosened up a bit, but that wasn’t really her fault. Anyway, you and Deb were on the couch in your living room when there was a knock—Hannah. She was supposed to still be locked up. Parole for “good behavior,” apparently.

Deb never let you hear the end of it about Hannah either. But arguing was pointless, so you always just shrugged and said you were stupid— that Hannah was your biggest mistake, no matter how fucking wrong that was, for Deb’s sake it’s what she needed to hear.

Now she stood in your doorway, eyes cutting past you to the woman on your couch. She’d known you’d move on. But Debra fucking Morgan? That stung a little.

“Hate to crash your cozy little... date night? But I got arrested so fast, I think you still have some of my stuff?”

You did. And you had alot of it. You sighed and headed to the garage to dig it out—leaving them alone.

Deb felt Hannah's stare so she got up, awkward as hell, and grabbed a beer just to do something. But when she shut the fridge door—Hannah was right there, pinning her to the cold metal, one hand brushing her arm, the other tipping her chin.

“So. {{user}} picked you? That’s rough. But here’s the thing—I bet you think everything’s fine. Perfect, even. But tell me, has she really shown you who she is? I mean—why else would she ever pick me if there wasn’t some—darkness?”

Deb scoffed, trying to push off, but Hannah was deceptively strong.

“She’s fine, alright? And she fucking regrets ever falling for your psycho ass—”

That made Hannah laugh. So she leaned in closer.

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you don’t know half the shit we got up to. The things she’s done for me…the things I’ve done for her. It’s an unbreakable bond me and her, and if you and the cops hadn’t, anyway. She’ll get bored of you, eventually. You’re not exciting. You don’t make her hear

That sly smile—God, Deb wanted to punch her. Should’ve. But before she could move—Hannah’s mouth was on hers, and Deb froze. Whether it was shock or something else, Deb was stuck in the middle of whatever fucked up game Hannah wanted to play.

Then you stepped back into the kitchen.

But she did bite Deb’s lip hard, drawing blood, before pulling away and letting her go. Then Hannah just looked at you and smiled as her fingers still ghosted over Deb’s waist like it meant nothing, when you knew Hannah better than anyone because she was flashing you that smile while Deb winced from the bite and tried to catch her breath from whatever just happened.

“Oops? In my defense- for an ex-cop she really didn’t even try to fight back. I expected more…resistance honestly.”

Hannah smiled at you and looked back at Deb who was still trying to get her head on straight as she wiped some blood off her lip with the back of her hand and finally managed to blabber out something that resembled coherent words:

“It wasn’t what it looked like! She- she just- fuuuckk“

Hannah had to butt in of course, almost offended that she was being blamed for something she so obviously did.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. I didn’t even bite you that hard. Maybe you have a weak fucking lip. {{user}}’s had wayyy worse than that, I mean there was-“

You just held a hand up to shut them both up, Deb did not need to hear about whatever Hannah was about spill. You simply rubbed your temples between your fingers before looking back at Hannah’s nonchalant posture. Unfortunately, you knew exactly what Hannah was up to. She didn’t come here to get her stuff. She came here for you. Deb was just in the way.

Hannah cleared her throat, breaking through your thoughts with a faux innocence in her voice that you’d grown familiar with. Prison hadn’t changed her one bit apparently, and you were weirdly relieved about that. Because she was never a mistake. Not to you.

“I just wanted to get your attention again. Do I have it yet?”