Chapter 2

The rest of that evening had passed without incident, but for the next week, the Casablancas brothers studiously avoided each other. It wasn't hard in a mansion that size, after all their rooms were in separate wings. By Friday night however a late night board game encounter was inevitable. The boredom was just too much, besides Logan was busy with Veronica, no doubt. Also neither, brother was willing to drink alone and neither was willing to endure the depressing prospect of a Friday night at home sober, they had both lost too much.

The game of Jumanji began innocently enough and entirely wager-free, three Smirnoffs in and it was a different story altogether. "God, Dick you always pick the dumbest games," Beaver complained after utterly failing to defeat a gigantic swarm of mosquitoes by rolling a tennis racket.

"You're only whining because you totally suck at this game," Dick chortled.

"Next time, I pick the game."

"No chance in hell."

"No fair! If I win, I pick the next game."

"Never going to happen."

"Oh, come on!"

"Besides we agreed we weren't going to do that anymore," Dick muttered looking away and making a grab for his brother's bottle of Smirnoff Ice.

"You mean the betting?" Beaver questioned, clearly bewildered. "We had no such conversation and the games are even lamer without the betting."

"We can't, remember that thing that happened last week. It's just a bad idea."

"So we kissed once, big deal."

But it was a big deal, at least to Dick, he couldn't stop thinking about the way Beaver tasted, the way Beaver had utterly surrendered to his control, the way Beaver's lips looked so swollen after a few rough kisses. He was actually sort of hurt that Beaver didn't seem to think it meant anything. It was beginning to mean everything to Dick. He didn't say any of that though, "Well, what if I win?"

"Name your price. I'm going to win this time. I can feel it," Beaver said confidently in spite of the fact that in six turns he had managed to move only a few squares from the start line. He was also advancing the danger track rapidly and had been stuck in the jungle until he rolled five or eight on more than one occasion.

Dick remained silent considering his options. There was a wealth of totally inappropriate acts he wanted to suggest as forfeits, but they probably weren't drunk enough for them yet. Oh and then there was the tiny detail that they would be obscenely incestuous, but at the moment that wasn't carrying as much weight as it probably should have. The next game, that's when Dick would bring out the risky forfeits, he'd go the tamer route with this first one.

"Fine, if I win you have to wear lipstick for the rest of the night."

"Dude, that's a sissy bet. Besides I don't have any lipstick, do you?"

"No, but Kendall does and so what, you're going to win right."

"Damn straight."

"So what does it matter?"

Beav just glared sullenly and picked up the dice. In less than ten turns Dick won the game and sent Beaver stumbling down the hall to Kendall's room in search of lipstick. "It has to be red and lip gloss doesn't count," Dick called after him.

Beaver returned shortly and Dick's mouth went dry at the sight of him. It was too much, Beav's lips seemed larger than ever and oh so sinful painted like that. "What colour is that?" he asked absently as he raked his eyes over his little brother's delicate frame, devouring every inch.

Beav seemed cagey under his scrutiny, fidgeting nervously. "Scarlet harlot," he muttered, looking at his socks.

The silence was beginning to get awkward and Beav looked about ready to bolt, which would foil Dick's carefully laid plans. Dick forced himself to laugh, "You're such a pretty girl, Cassidy." The bashful, nervous Beaver was gone in an instant as his brother tackled him to the ground, smacking him about the head.

"Take it back!"

"Never!" Dick panted. Beaver was straddling his chest, one hand raised to deliver another blow. Dick was trying his best to focus on anything other than the fact that his sexy little brother's ass was practically on top of his crotch. He was trying to think of the most dong-withering things imaginable, dead babies, algebra tests, pus filled wounds, Aaron Echolls naked. It wasn't working particularly well; Beaver had leaned down, pressing both hands on his chest, presumably to subdue him, and it felt like a grind, an invitation.

It took all his willpower to roll and push Beaver off him. Dick was tempted to just pin Beaver under him and kiss him silly, instead he stood and reached for another cooler. He passed one to his brother who was still lying there like a stunned bunny. "I've decided to take pity on you, bro. You choose the next game."

"Really," Beaver said in disbelief. He appeared to be considering whether or not this was another trick.

"Go ahead, girly." He let Beaver hit him upside the head one more time on his way out to find a new game.

Author's note: I will be posting new chapters every three days or so. I didn't expect this one to become multi-chapter on me. It was just supposed to be a short fluff piece.