Drip.

The sound echoed across his mind as if through the Grand Canyon, neverending and all consuming.

Drip.

How could this be happening so soon after the last time?

Drip. Drip.

Dexter tossed and turned in his bed, trying to ignore the familiar, odious sound but would have no relief.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A puddle of the horrible liquid would form before long, there was no denying that.

Dammit! I can't ignore this any longer. I'll never get any rest unless I take care of this.

He jumped out of bed and searched for his tools in the dark, too annoyed to turn on the light. Eventually he found what he was looking for, though he had made a considerable amount of noise in the process. As he passed by Harrison's room, he stopped to observe him, hoping he hadn't disturbed him with all the commotion. The boys breathing seemed to be steady and deep and Dexter followed suit.

I'm going to need all the patience I can get. This is going to take awhile.

Dexter's tools were all laid out, like they had been many times before. He studied his handiwork and smiled slightly. Relief washed over him as the terrible sound receded from his lizard brain.

There! It's finally over. Once again.

He packed everything up and wearily made his way out of there.

Dexter ambled into his bed, grateful for its soft embrace once more. The last thought before his head hit the pillow was, next time I'm hiring a plumber.