Dexter Gets Lucky
By
The day was dark and cloudy. So was the man’s memory. He sat up too quickly and groaned when his vision swirled unpleasantly. A few quick hitches of breath kept the contents of his stomach down, but barely, and only for the moment. He groaned. A hand grabbed his hair and yanked upward.
“Rat us out, Fillmore, and we’ll do more than knock you around, geek. Astro ain’t wasting any more black beauties on you, and that’s a fact. You been used, man-- trashed long enough to be bled and slammed. Crawl home, tech boy and keep your mouth shut!”
A hard boot to the ribs sent him flying; he tried to brace himself, but his temple hit the dumpster and he lost consciousness, sliding into a dark world of throbbing pain.
“What do you mean he’s lost his memory?” Rose demanded fiercely, balancing baby Harry on one hip and glaring at Pete Thornton, who winced under her look.
“Rose, the doctors are adamant that it’s a temporary situation—“
“Pete—“ She was going to say more, but someone approached them; Harry blinked at the tall man with the handlebar mustache.
“Mrs. MacGyver?” the doctor asked gently. He wore a green scrubs and a name badge that identified him as doctor Sean Granger. Rose stared up at him, paling. He rubbed a finger on Harry’s snub little nose before turning his attention to her.
“Your husband’s going to be fine. Let me re-stress that—GOING to be. Right now he’s had a pretty rough time of it. He’s had a lot of rather exotic drugs in his system, and a contra coup head injury, so on the face of it he’s lucky.”
Rose hugged Harry tighter; the eight month old gave a little squeak. Deftly, Pete took him from Rose, cradling him close as Doctor Granger spoke again.
“We’ve had him under observation for five days now—“
“—Six,” Rose interjected hurriedly. The doctor nodded with a patient smile.
“Six days, and physically, he’s on the mend. Mr. MacGyver has a strong constitution and an impressive track record of beating the odds. Mentally though—“
“Oh God—brain damage?” Rose whispered, blue eyes going wide with fear. Pete wrapped his free arm around her shoulders as Doctor Granger frowned.
“---No. At least, not in the way you might think,” he corrected. “The brain is a tough organ, but the mind—the mental processes are fragile. When circumstances warrant it, the mind has ways of protecting itself that we still don’t fully understand. Right now, your husband is trapped in another personality. He thinks he’s someone called Dexter Fillmore, and only responds to all of us in that persona. I suspect it’s his defensive fugue state.”
“Mac thinks he’s Dexter? But that’s just a character he plays for various assignments, Doctor—like a Halloween costume—“ Pete blurted. Harry was yanking on his ear. Granger nodded, smiling a little at the other mans’ discomfort.
“We guessed as much from the information you gave us at the time of admission. It’s not uncommon among people with stressful and sometimes deceptive occupations to assume their counterparts temporarily. Undoubtedly Mr. MacGyver was aware of how important his cover story was to the assignment in question, and mentally locked in on that assertion all through his ordeal.”
“When will he come out of it?” Rose demanded angrily. Granger sighed.
“That, Mrs. MacGyver is a good question. It could be within the next few minutes or in a week, maybe longer. Despite all our advances in medicine, there’s still so much we don’t know about the mind. All I DO know is that the best way to speed up his recovery is to take him home.”
“God yes! He can come home?” Eagerly Rose looked to the door. The doctor nodded.
“Physically he’s ready to be discharged. It’s my firm belief, supported by our psychologist Doctor Banth, that the familiar surroundings and activities will help him remember, and facilitate the resurfacing of his real persona. Does his Dexter personality know you, Mrs. MacGyver?”
Biting her lip, Rose shrugged, startled at the question.
“I don’t KNOW—I’ve seen him get dressed as Dexter, and we first met when he was in disguise—“
“Ah—“ Granger sighed, “Well then one thing at a time. Let’s have you come in and see which sort of response he has to you.”
Rose followed Granger into the room, feeling her pulse quicken. She took a deep
breath and tried to smile as she let her gaze meet that of the man in the bed.
MacGyver was pale and fidgety; he squinted up at Rose through the hideous black-framed glasses, and his first words came out in a whine.
“Geez, Rosie, where ya been? I need a ride home—“
“M-Mac?” she blurted, moving closer, reaching to touch his cheek gently with her fingertips. He gave a sigh, but let her stroke the side of his face gently.
“Cripes! Not you too? When is everybody gonna get it straight? My name is Dexter Orville Fillmore and I never heard of this Mac guy who looks like me!” he protested in a singsong voice. Rose ignored his words and moved to hug him. He patted her back stiffly.
“Rooooose, we’re in public—“ came his half-hearted embarrassed protest. She broke off and looked at Doctor Granger.
“So you want to go home with--?”
“Rosie! Sheesh!”
“Ah. And are you sure this is her?”
“Wella course it is! Rosie Clowderbocker and I been going steady for six years ya know,” he groused, pushing his glasses up by the nosepiece. Rose lightly touched the big bruise on his temple; it was fading to a dull purple under the earpiece of the glasses.
“Six years?”
“Give or take—“ Mac snorted, “If you count all that time at the Science camps and Star Trek conventions and stuff—can we GO now?”
Rose drew in a deep, deep breath and nodded.
Dexter was cranky. He had a headache, he felt really weak, and Rosie was stuck babysitting. The kid was cute, yeah, but he sure pooped a lot and liked to chew on things. At least he hardly ever cried. Dexter didn’t mind holding and playing with him. They were on the carpet noodling with stacking blocks. The kid was lucky he got a good name like Harry.
“You coulda been named something really dorky, like Fenster, or Leif, or—“
“—Angus?” Rosie asked. She’d come in from the kitchen with a bottle and a curious expression. Dexter looked up at her and frowned. Rosie was wearing her hair in a ponytail, and her dress was kind of—short.
“Angus?”
“Yeah. It means unique—“
“—Strength,” he finished, shifting Harry gently to a sitting position on the carpet. The baby boy took a block and pounded it steadily on the carpet, drooling a little. Rose knelt down and wiped his chin. She noticed that Dexter was watching her carefully, and on impulse she gave a little shimmy.
He noticed. Blushing slightly, Dexter climbed up to the sofa and sat down on it, closing his eyes. Rose thought furiously. In a few hours it would be time to put Harry down for the night. She had a movie to throw in the VCR, plenty of popcorn, and a plan. Maybe Dexter was a little inhibited, but somewhere in there was Mac, and HE was always up for movie night—often in ways completely unrelated to the action on the screen.
*** *** ***
“So when are the Daltons coming home, anyway?” Dexter demanded after accepting the bowl of popcorn and squinting into it. Rose drew in a deep, patient breath.
“Harry’s parents are gonna be out for a long, long time, Dex, so I’m really glad you could stay over with me. I get scared by myself you know.”
He looked up at her with a slightly scornful expression, and Rose felt a giggle bubble up that she quickly squelched as she sat down next to him on the sofa.
“There’s nothing to be SCARED of, you know.”
“Oh I know. You’re pretty strong and all—“
“And I’ve got 911 on speed dial,” he added.
Rose rolled her eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that this was Mac she would have sent this nerd packing hours ago. Dexter was self-centered, whiny and a know-it-all. He DID take terrific care of Harry though, and she knew it was Mac’s strong love for his son that brought that through. The expression on his face as he played with the baby was enough to make Rose sense a breakthrough was near.
She settled in next to him on the sofa, letting her hip and thigh press warmly against his. He didn’t seem to notice as he picked up the remote and fingered the buttons.
“So what didja rent? Terminator? Conan? The Forbin Project?”
“Galaxy of Terror—“ she murmured hopefully. She’d chosen the cheesiest thing she could find with an R rating, and exposed breasts. Normally it was the sort of movie she and Mac would tear apart over a few glasses of wine, with Mac insisting they “reenact” a few choice scenes amidst much giggling and fumbling. Rose sighed inwardly.
“Only one star? GEEZ!” Dexter huffed indignantly; looking at the box it came in.
“Fine. I guess there’s nothing BETTER ta do anyway—“
He clicked the remote anyway, and Rose leaned back, letting the credits roll. She bit her lip and bided her time.
The movie was outstandingly bad, even with a cast of normally competent actors. Dexter had a rolling stream of snide comments flowing from the first scene, only stopping when it became apparent that Erin Moran, AKA Joanie was losing her clothes. Rose sat up and smirked.
“Wow—no wonder Chachi loved her. Melons Magumbo!”
“Rosieee!” Mortified, Dexter tried to click the movie off, but only succeeded in muting it. On screen, the undressing continued. Rose pouted, trying to wrestle the remote from his clenched fingers. Dexter looked a little flushed under his glasses.
“Oh Dexter, give me a break. I’ve seen boobs before. Mine are WAY better than hers.”
“I don’t think—“
“—What? That they AREN’T? Dexter, that’s mean!” Rose shot back, eyes narrowed. She swiftly unbuttoned the front of her sundress, revealing the pale pink bra underneath.
“See?”
“Rosie!” came a pained hiss. She studied his face as he stared at her in shock. Cheeks flushed, brown eyes wide behind the glasses, and breathing definitely on the quick side. Rose thrust her chest out and let her lip tremble.
“Don’t you Rosie ME, Dexter Fillmore! Just because you’re too scared to touch ‘em doesn’t mean I don’t have a GREAT set of knockers you know! Ramon thinks so—“
The reaction was spontaneous and flattering; the remote dropped to the carpet as Dexter’s hands flew to grip her shoulders.
“Don’t you DARE show anybody your, your---front, Rosie! That would really make me mad!” he demanded, giving her a light shake. The action made her chest bounce and it drew his attention as inexorably as a nail to a magnet. Rose slid her hands along his arms covered by the letterman jacket, feeling Mac’s familiar strength. She sighed, letting it lift her chest once more. Dexter whimpered.
“You gotta cover yourself, or—“
“—Or what, Dexter? I don’t mind you lookin’ at me.”
“--Don’t wanna look,” he gulped, fingers tightening on her shoulders as he pulled her closer. She met his stunned gaze and a flicker of Mac deep in his gaze gave her courage.
“Wanna touch?” she made the whispered offer. Dexter nodded slowly, his expression pained.
“Yeah. Shouldn’t. REALLY shouldn’t, Rosie—“ he blurted, his voice aching. She lifted one hand to cup his cheek and he shuddered a little. Rose felt the heat radiating off of him, of his intense arousal so maddeningly near. While she might have been seeing Dexter, her body was all too conscious of Mac’s only inches away.
“But Dex, why? You know how I feel about you, doncha?” as she spoke she let her other hand slide over his on her shoulder, rubbing the long, strong fingers. He scrunched up his eyes and lowered his head.
“’Cause—oh geez, Rosie, because I’m SCARED to, okay? Go ahead and laugh—“ came his miserable tone, “I wouldn’t blame ya, you know—“
“Scared?” Of all the reasons Rose had thought of, fear hadn’t been one of them. She slipped her hand from his cheek to his chin, cupping it, lifting his head to meet his dark eyes. The lenses made them bigger.
“Yeah. I don’t HAVE a lot in my life, Rosie. I got my computer and my chess group and that stupid job at Gateway and you, okay? And I could lose all of them and be okay tomorrow except you. If I screw it up with YOU then I might as well go jump off a bridge ‘cause there wouldn’t be a lot worth livin’ for. You love me, and I can’t even figure out WHY, which is pretty stupid for a smart guy like me. If I touch you like I WANT to I might mess everything up andMmmmmmmmph—
Rose had pulled his face down to hers, kissing him firmly, muffling his still moving lips against hers. Instinctively Dexter braced a hand on the sofa cushion under her head while the other one floundered helplessly on her shoulder. Rose lost herself in the fumbling desperate kiss.
He was awkward for the first seconds, then frantically eager, mouth mashed to hers with more power than finesse. She gave a little moan and let her tongue flick out against his lips; he twitched, breaking away for breath.
“I liked that—“ Rose sighed up into his face, her breath stirring his bangs.
She heard the popcorn bowl thump to the floor, the old maids spilling into the
carpet.
“M-me too. You taste really good—“ Dexter mumbled. Rose pulled him close again.
“Just really good?” she teased, not giving him a chance to answer. The second kiss was sweeter, less of a blind fumble and more of a savoring. Rose let her jaw drop open slightly and waited for his tentative move. His lips were still firmly locked, so she went for the shock treatment. Grasping his hand, she arched her breast into it, full and warm, the soft cotton barely containing her. Startled, Dexter tried to protest, and the moment his mouth opened, Rose slickly let her tongue slip in.
He groaned. His fingers tightened over the bouncy mound of her chest and his tongue slid over hers excitedly. Rose grinned against, trying to catch her breath, but Dexter kept kissing her, the rough suction of his mouth around her tongue almost greedy. Rose felt her hips begin to wriggle as hot desire raced through her and her hands cupped his head.
“W-wow! You can really kiss, Dex! I like that a lot—“
He was panting a little, cheek resting against hers, fingers sliding in firm circles around her achingly hard nipple.
“So pretty. I always knew it, Rosie. Always,” he whispered. She shifted to kiss his neck, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he trembled. She was on the third one when he realized what she was doing.
“Rosie--!” he gasped, looking down at her hands. She giggled against his mouth.
“Just wanna touch you too—I promise I won’t make you take anything off—“
“Promise?” he gasped as she slid a warm hand along his chest. Rose sighed happily. Under the letterman jacket and hideous plaid shirt was the strong furry chest she remembered. Shifting a little, she managed to pull Dexter onto her, his body a heavy weight. Their bare stomachs touched, sending another thrill through her senses.
“No, Rosie, this is really, really a b-bad idea,” he stuttered, “I don’t think—“
She wouldn’t let him. Kiss after long slow kiss, Rose delved into his mouth, invited him into hers and took Dexter’s tongue deep in. He shifted, he gasped, but the relentless surge of hormones and lust boiled through him and he kissed back. Rose felt the iron ridge of his cock against her thigh, the clumsy press of his fingers along her breasts. Part of the time she sensed Mac; near but not there, just under the surface of Dexter’s gropes and kisses.
He was flushed and shaking, dragging kisses along her neck and under her ear as she groaned. Instantly Dexter stopped, his glasses askew, his expression apologetic.
“—Sorry. Rosie, I just—You taste so—“
“I want you to touch me. Please Dex, just once and I won’t ask you to do it anymore if you don’t want to, but God, I need it—“ she whimpered. Dexter stared at her helplessly until she took his hand and guided it up under the bra until his palm was filled with satiny breast. The gesture hiked her bra up, and when he looked down, Roses’ full chest was on glorious display under him.
“Oh Jesus!” he moaned. Without thinking, he dropped his face, mouth latching onto the firm pink nipple under his fingers. Rose gasped, arching up, and cradled his head as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin.
“Ahhhhh!” she squeaked as hot pulsing pleasure rippled through her. Wetly Dexter trailed his mouth to the other nipple, mumbling.
“Gawddddddd—“
Rose quivered under his oral onslaught, her skin wet and hypersensitive to his breath. Lightly his teeth grazed her flesh and she moaned again. Grabbing his head she lifted his face, staring into his big dazed eyes.
“Want you, Dex. I mean I really, really WANT you—“
“—Yeah. Want you too, Rose,” he gulped, pushing up on his hands, hips shifting against hers with teasing pressure and friction. She worked a hand between their bodies, finding the tab of his fly, tugging on it as she realized.
He’d called her Rose. With hope, she squirmed and managed to work his jeans down as he nibbled her shoulder and moaned.
“Didn’t know it would be good like this—Want you really bad, Rose. Not in a nice way you know—“ he admitted helplessly. She slid her hand into his boxers against the hard length of him and Dexter shuddered.
“OHHHHHHHHH!” His cock throbbed against her palm, hot and urgent, and the glazed look behind his glasses let Rose know that he couldn’t last much longer.
Which was fine, since she wasn’t too far off either. With a wriggle, she worked a leg over his hip, hooking around it, and then yanked her skirt up.
“We’re gonna do it,” she told him fiercely, tugging her underwear aside. His cock brushed against her exposed fur, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“I can’t!” he howled in a whisper, head dropping on her shoulder. She felt something wet along her neck.
Tears.
“Yes you can. I love you and I want you!” she whispered back just as fiercely. He sighed, arms tightening around her, cock rubbing across the top of her mound.
“We want you. Me and him. I want my Rosie and he wants you. A LOT.”
She knew then. The struggle within between Mac and Dexter was nearly over.
“Then take me,” she told him, turning his face to kiss his wet cheeks, “Rosie loves you, Dexter, she always will—six years into forever. NEED you—“
His eyes locked on hers. The expression on his sad geeky face was one of such utter hopeless devotion, the lost soul. Abruptly he shook his head, glasses tumbling off.
“—Yeah—“ With a slow buck of his hips he sank into her slick depths, the sensation exquisitely perfect.
Rose groaned, locking her legs around him as thick throbbing pleasure rolled through her. His hips pumped, the rhythm strong and powerful, knowing and deliberate. Rose felt herself tightening, clenching hard, sailing up higher into molten pleasure as a voice gasped into her ear.
“Love you Rosie. Always willlllllllGODDDDDD!”
Deep slow pulses filled her, hot and wet and wonderfully strong; She clung to Mac’s shoulders, shaking with release and love, not letting go.
“Hey—“
A familiar voice, amused, satiated, curious. She looked up into Mac’s face. He rubbed noses with her.
“Not that I’m complaining, but how did we get here?”
She smiled up at him.
“By being in love,” she replied tenderly, “No matter who we are—“
END