Title: Five Days With Dick (1/1)
Author: Kayla
Rating: R (for language and drug use)
Word Count: 706
Character/Pairing: Dick, Veronica. Logan mentions.
Summary: Dick is addicted. He needs a rush.
Spoilers/Warnings: Drug use, and a lot of it. Seriously, Dick is a drug addict. Spoilers for 2x22.
A/N: In 1x02, Troy says he shouldn't listen to 'those guys' about calling Veronica Trampy McBitch. Let's assume 'those guys' were Dick. Written for100situations. My prompt was rush. My claim hasn't been accepted there yet, so I haven't posted it there. Oh, and 15north, this goes out to you, because you always back me up when I defend Dick.
Monday:
You're at a beach party. You see girls.
Your nose burns. You're fucking throat burns. Everything burns. He's dead and you're left with shit.
It's a Saturday night and Justin just scored some coke.
Rush.
Justin thinks you're addicted. Justin doesn't know shit.
Logan still calls. 5 times a day, once a week, what's it matter? He doesn't give a fuck. And Beaver—you refuse to call him Cassidy—is dead.
Fuck what the other people at the beach are saying. You're not high; you're just in a good mood. And that's allowed, right?
Tuesday:
Knowing means death, but not knowing does too because, either way, he died. And you didn't know. But if you did, would it have changed anything? Probably not.
You need a fix. Anything. You call up Rick, but the motherfucker is on vacation. Logan used to be able to score something…anything, but you hear he's back with Trampy McBitch, so you don't ask.
You fucking hate Justin. His shit sucks and his friends are the dumbest fucks you have ever met.
Why the hell are you sitting at Justin's house? Oh right. Rush. You need a rush. A feeling.
Wednesday:
You kicked Kendall out last week and you have the house to yourself. Party? Fuck no. You'd rather sit in your room and trip out on acid. Seriously. You need some acid.
Rush.
You see Beaver this time. And he's chasing you. Asking you to save him. He falls to the ground and evaporates. He's gone all over again and you're done with acid…for good.
Thursday:
Sean says he knows people. You don't like talking to Sean though because that bitch lied to you for years. He's not fucking rich; he's just some poor jerk off. But when you call him, he doesn't fucking interrogate you.
Sean is your new dealer. He gives you rush.
Friday:
When you pull into your driveway, you feel like shit. You just left a kegger and it's 3:02am.
You know you're high and shit, but seeing Veronica fucking Mars on your porch never happened when you took this shit the last time.
"Dick, so nice of you to stop by, finally," she says and you wonder who the fuck she thinks she is. She's acting like she's your fucking wife or something.
"Don't fuck me with me, Mars, I don't need your shit tonight."
"Apparently any night. You haven't returned any of Logan's calls. Or anyone's for that matter."
Does she think she owns you? You will do what the fuck you want, when you want.
"Listen, I'm high and I'm tired, so get the fuck out of my way," you command. You are so fucking sick of everyone's shit.
"Well, I just thought you might to know that your 'best friend' is in the hospital. And he's asking for you." Her voice makes you sound like a pathetic fuck that couldn't care less about Logan. Maybe you are, because her words really hold no meaning. You still just want to crawl into bed. The rush is wearing off and soon; you won't be able to feel at all. You hate not feeling. Because not feeling means death. You know that it doesn't lead directly to death—that there are many stops of pain and shame—but that's still a road you don't want to travel.
So yeah, you're pissed that Veronica is on your porch. Sure, you'll go see Logan in the hospital or whatever, but first you need her to leave. God, she needs to at least let you shoot up before you go.
"Listen, let me get, umm, something inside, and tell Logan I'll be to the hospital soon." Sure, it's a lie, but you're used to lies by now.
"Logan could die soon, Dick. I need you to come with me now."
Later:
Except Logan wasn't dying. God, sometimes you hated Veronica Mars. Logan fucking Echolls wasn't in the hospital. He was in his girlfriend's fucking car plotting to send you to some rehab bullshit. You think death's voice is addicting, calling to you ten times a day. Her rough, callused hand caresses your face and you think you're going to puke again. You've lost your rush.