My first Dexter story! As always, I own nothing. Enjoy :)

Three kids. A lifetime in Florida. I've managed to avoid this place. So how did I end up here with a 30-year-old serial killer?

Hannah McKay reaches over and grabs his hand again, just as she did when they were silently walking down the dark walkway to what should've been the last thing she ever saw. They're still silent, but this time, it's not dark, and they are not alone. Just the opposite, they're surrounded by people: happy families and excited young adults who Dexter thinks are probably at least a decade too old to be enjoying this.

She's wearing sequined Minnie Mouse ears on a headband atop her tousled blonde hair. She wears them with a smirk, like she somehow thinks she's winning this cat and mouse game they're playing just because this was something on her bucket list, and she's charmed him here.

They don't know what they're doing. People mill about around them talking about characters they've never heard of and rides they don't have the first clue about, all of them completely unaware of the fact that they're in the presence of two killers in the Most Magical Place on Earth.

Though too much exposure to this place could drive anyone to kill. And we've only just begun.

A photographer on the street buys into their cute couple at Disney World act (It is still an act, right?) and calls out to them as they walk past.

"How about a photo?" he asks, holding up his camera.

Hannah looks to him and raises her eyebrow. Dexter fakes a smile.

"Why not?" he calls back, telling himself it's all in the name of blending in. He pulls her in front of the camera, the glittering princess castle behind them.

Her arm wraps comfortably around his waist, and she looks directly into the lens, the corners of her mouth curving into a grin that somehow still looks conniving. If cameras really could steal souls, he thinks, she'd be in no danger.

The photographer takes a few photos before saying, "How about you give your lady a kiss?"

"We're not really big on the public displays," Hannah coolly says.

"Aw, come on," the boy prompts. "It's a real popular pose with the couples here."

She looks at Dexter again, and he pulls her in. She looks him square in the eye before dropping her gaze to his lips. He kisses her fiercely, and just like all of their kisses, their lips meet, and they feel like they're on fire. He pulls away and their eyes meet again.

"That's great," the photographer says. "Now how about a dip?"

Hannah eyes him. "No," she says simply. She takes the card that stores their photos and pockets it in the back pocket of her denim short shorts. "Thank you."

"Have a magical day!" the photographer calls as they walk away.

"So where should we start?" Dexter asks. "Spinning teacups? Character greetings? Mickey pretzels?"

Standing in the center of the hub, she glances around, each path leading into a different land. For a minute, she looks lost.

She's off her guard. This is unchartered territory. It is for both of us, but part of survival in my line of work is learning how to adapt.

"Let's go that way," she finally says, pointing towards Tomorrowland.

He figures she must sort of know where she's going because she doesn't have a park map and she leads them right to the roller coaster in the back corner. Space Mountain. He knows this one. Dark. Single seats. The syringe full of tranquilizer practically burns a hole in his pocket as they near the loading station. He could sit behind her, stick her in the neck on the way up the hill…

No one would suspect a thing. It would seem like she passed out from an adverse reaction to the thrill ride. An unknown medical condition aggravated by the intense movement. It happens all the time. Though one of those kids running the ride would probably have medical personnel over here before we even make it back to the station. There's no way I could get out with her without attracting questions.

He catches her eye as they take their places to wait for the next empty car, and she smiles. It's a genuine smile, and part of him likes making her childhood dreams come true, even if he wants to strangle each and every person who waves at him with a giant Mickey glove on their hand.

They make their way around the park, contently moving from attraction to attraction. She seems happy, and he lets her think she has the upper hand. He refrains from injecting her with the tranquilizer when he gets the chance (and there are a surprising number of chances, he finds, on these family-friendly rides,) but he puts his foot down at taking a picture with a rambunctious costumed character.

Hannah leads him into a line for something called The Jungle Cruise, and after a short wait, he's helping her into a boat. The skipper pulls away from the dock and starts her scripted spiel, full of stupid puns and lame jokes.

How can anyone listen to this idiotic, inane…

A familiar laugh fills his ears and he glances over to his current companion. She's giggling, genuinely giggling, at one of the sorry excuses for a joke that just escaped the skipper's lips. The ride doesn't show signs of ending any time soon, so Dexter turns to his side, staring at the water beneath them as the travel along the man-made river.

The water thickens and turns red beneath their boat. Dexter reaches out a hand, directly going against what the skipper said about keepings hands and legs in the boat at all times, and lets his fingers drag through the water. But it's not water. Not anymore. It's different.


He notices the skipper has quieted, along with the rest of the boat. He looks up, and the crowd is gone. It's only him and Hannah on the boat now, and Hannah is wrapped in plastic, strapped to the crates in the center of the boat. She still wears the Minnie Mouse ears atop her head, and her eyes follow him with a steely gaze as he makes his way towards the front of the boat.

Dexter pulls a knife from where the skipper's prop gun usually lies. A roar distracts him from his task, and both he and Hannah glance to the side. The lions on the rocks are real, screaming at them as their boat floats by, and she's still as stoic as can be, completely impervious to the fate she will not escape this time. He turns the boat around the waterfall, following the path set by the ride, and picks up the mic, telling her this cruise will, unfortunately, be her last. She doesn't flinch, and he wanders over to her, raising the knife.

She smirks at him as he sits beside her and positions the knife over her heart. That damned smirk. He's not sure what he hates more: that she's playing him or that she might actually be winning.

"What the hell are you smirking at?" he snarls, gripping her cheeks with one hand.

She pulls her face away from his grasp, and the smirk turns into a satisfied grin, her cool eyes boring into his as she slowly lowers her head back down onto the makeshift kill table.

"Look around," she says with a hard voice. "I'm not the only one who won't be getting off this ride."

He checks out his surroundings, and all of the plants around the boat have turned purple. Aconite. A couple crushed purple petals fall from her palm, and he tries to think back to everything he's had to eat or drink since the day began. Is it too late? Has she already beaten him at his own game?

"Dexter," she says, her light-hearted voice pulling him out of his daydream. He takes a deep breath and sits up next to her, glancing at the blue-green murky water beneath them. "Where did you go?"

"Blood," he mutters.

"What?" she asks, her voice firmer.

"Boring," he covers. "It's a long ride. Not really my thing."

"Oh," she says. "Sorry. I think it's almost over."

It's late afternoon when they decide to take a break and refresh. They walk into a long line at one of the smaller snack spots, and Hannah looks around.

"Dexter, a table's opening up over there. Go grab it," she says.

"What?" he asks.

"I can get the drinks. My feet need a break," she says.

Don't fall for that. She's manipulating you.

"Please," she adds.

He nods. "Okay."

He walks over to the little table and takes a seat, narrowly claiming it as his own as another family makes their way over. She joins him a little while later, two cups of soda and a large container of French fries in her hands.

"Here you go," she says, passing him one of the drinks.

"Thanks," he smiles.

Hannah places the fries in the middle of the table as she sips her own soda. She sits down next to him and starts nibbling on the fries. Dexter takes one, too.

They must be safe if she's eating them, too. But if she thinks I'm going to drink that soda, she's delusional.

After a few minutes of silent companionship, she grabs her chair and moves it towards him. He stiffens. The outside pocket on his cargo shorts contains the syringe of tranquilizer, and she's on that side of him. She scoots as close as she can, her leg brushing against his, and slips off her flip-flop. She wraps her leg around the lower part of his. Hannah shoots him a seductive grin, and runs her toes along his lower leg.

"Excuse me," Dexter says, hurriedly unraveling his leg from hers and standing. "Bathroom. I'll be right back."

Her narrowed eyes follow his every move as he walks away from the table. As soon as his back is turned, she stands and walks quietly behind him.

The swinging door to the men's bathroom is falling behind him when it slams open again and she enters, ignoring the looks she gets from the family just outside the door.

"Jesus!" he yells, startled by her sudden appearance.

She checks the bathroom quickly and finds that they're alone. She walks over to him and gets in his face as his ass presses into the counter behind him.

"Are you trying to kill me again?" she asks.

"No," he says. She reaches into his shorts and pulls the syringe out of his pocket, twirling it through her fingers mere inches from his face.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore." She flicks the syringe from her hand, and it clatters as it slides across the tiled floor.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asks, the purple flowers from his daydream haunting him.

"Oh, so now we're back to accusing me of things?"

"It's not like you're the innocent party here."

"Oh, and you are?" she argues. After a beat, she says, "That's why you won't touch the drink I brought you."

"You poison people. Medical personnel would think I had a heart attack. No one would ever suspect you."

"You really think that's what I'm doing? Here?"

"I don't know what you're doing. I don't trust you."

"Well that feeling's mutual," she snaps back.

They're silent, eyes locked together, hot heavy breaths mingling in the little space between them. He doesn't know who makes the move, but suddenly, their lips meet in hard, passionate kisses. He pulls her in for the second time that day, roughly fisting her hair into his palm, and their mouths part for only a second as she reaches for the button on his shorts.

"We shouldn't be doing this here, either," he says, his breathing ragged.

"Then stop," she challenges with a sultry hiss, looking him right in the eye.

The door to the bathroom starts to open, and he pushes her backwards into the handicap stall, locking the door behind them just as another park-goer enters the restroom. His shorts are unbuttoned, and they're kissing again. He reaches between them to undo the tiny scrap of denim covering her lower body, but he's working too fast, and his finger slip against the silver button.

"You really need to think about wearing skirts," he whispers.

"You really need to get more efficient with zippers," she shoots back, matching his tone.

Her shorts are around her ankles before he can respond. She bends to pick them up, and he grabs her. He lifts her, spins them around, and slams her against the front wall of the bathroom. He hangs her shorts on the hook on the back of the door and her flip flops clang against the floor as they fall. She's still breathing heavily as her legs fall naturally around his waist, and he pushes his pants and boxers to his knees while she pushes her underwear to the side. He thrusts into her, and her mouth falls open on a gasp, just as it does every time he enters her.

Quiet. She has to stay quiet this time. They're not alone. She takes shallow, shaky breaths as he quickly moves in and out of her, and he knows it's taking everything in her not to make those little noises that he's come to love drawing out of her throat. Her arms are curled underneath his, gripping his shoulders and counting on him for stability. He grabs her thighs and parts them, pressing them against the wall behind her.

"Oh, fuck," she sighs as he thrusts into her again. She closes her eyes and leans her head, arching her back against the wall.

She's not supposed to be making any noise. Dexter slams her against the wall in punishment on his next thrust and grabs her breast through her clothes. The mouse ears still on her head shake but don't fall.

"Fuck, Dexter," she moans again.

His hand clamps tightly over her mouth, and her eyes shoot open, immediately darting to meet his. Finally…finally…there's a glint of fear behind them. She squirms against him, and he lets her mouth go.

"I'm not trying to kill you," he whispers, his voice rough. "I'm trying to get you to shut the hell up before you get us thrown out of here."

She nods, and he kisses her again, his hand falling back to the leg that's slipping down his side. She pushes her hips off the wall, trying to meet his strokes, the sounds of the park guests mere inches away vaguely registering in their ears. Before he knows it, she's pulling his hand back against her mouth, using it to muffle the noises she just can't help as he feels her clenching around him.

Hannah bites his hand as her orgasm fades, and he rips it away, grabbing her thigh and roughly thrusting into her again. Her mouth falls open on a luckily silent gasp as her body trembles again. A few more seconds, and Dexter follows her lead, quietly groaning into her shoulder as he lets go. He pulls out after another hot kiss and gives her a little while to recover before lowering her to the ground again.

This can't keep happening. She said it herself. This won't end well.

They silently get dressed, and he peers out of the cracks between the stall door. There's a man washing his hands at the counter.

"So…any thoughts on getting out of here without attracting unwanted attention?" Dexter asks quietly.

She adjusts the Minnie Mouse headband atop her head as the man at the counter finishes up, and pulls the stall door open as he exits. She gives herself a quick glance in the mirror before strutting out the bathroom door as if nothing unusual had happened at all.

Well, that works…

He follows her back into the park, but not before he re-pockets the syringe of tranquilizer she threw across the floor.

They're watching the fireworks in front of the castle at the end of the night, standing side by side on the same street where they began their day. Her mouth drops open in awe a little every time one goes soaring across the sky behind the sparkling castle. She looks happy again. Hannah's eyes find him during a bit of downtime in the music.

"Thank you," she says sincerely, a small, genuine smile on her face.

He returns her smile and initiates the hand-holding between them for the first time. He feels like that's what he's supposed to do. Her fingers immediately curl around his.

Hannah turns towards the castle again to watch the rest of the show, clutching Dexter's hand in hers. Dexter smiles in satisfaction. He has the upper hand now in this twisted game that they're playing. He glances at her again, expecting to see the same happy smile on her face. But he's wrong.

The smirk has returned.

That Jungle Cruise thing was actually a dream I had while marathoning Dexter at night over the summer (minus Hannah, since she wasn't in the show yet. Dexter was just the crazy skipper on the Jungle Cruise of Death in my dream, haha.) Anyway, thanks for reading!