Logan and Veronica went to bed even before they finished Pocahontas. Lightweights.
Sometime during the movie, Mac had slid closer to him, enough so that he could feel the increasing weight of her compact body against his shoulder as she drifted closer to sleep. It was pleasant, actually, but that in and of itself irritated Dick.
She had had about two drinks already, which was clearly near her limit. Christ, it was like living with a bunch of freshman during syllabus week. No one could hold their liquor worth shit.
He exited Netflix and began jostling her slightly. "Mac, I think it's time to go to bed."
She leaned forward and slid her hand up his thigh, breathing, "I was wondering when you would offer that." Her lopsided smile and lidded eyes tugged something in him, but also made it abundantly clear that she was too tipsy to leave.
He easily stood up and brushed her off in the same movement. She pouted. Not fair, he thought. She looked really good, and inebriated girls were kind of his forte, but this was Mac. No way in hell could he ever make a move on the only good thing his brother ever cared about, especially when she was still doing that saccharine forgiveness act that bristled him so much.
"I wasn't 'offering' anything, Mackie. Though believe me, you'd be begging if I were." He winked for good measure; she managed half an eye roll in response. "But you shouldn't drive. Do you want to crash on the couch tonight?"
"I love this song." She dazedly replied, referring to "Cecilia and the Satellite" coming softly from the speakers on the home screen. She gave him a tiny smile, so fast he almost missed it. "Yeah, if you don't mind. But I don't want to go to sleep yet…"
Dick stared at her, puzzled. She wasn't actually propositioning him, was she? Did she think he was someone else?
"Let's play Never Have I Ever." That made way more sense. Dick went to the fridge and pulled out two more beers, trying to figure out what feeling had washed over him when she made her not-at-all amorous intentions clear. It almost, almost, felt like disappointment.
"You're on, Ghostworld." He handed her a third beer, wondering if that were really a good idea, and clanked it against his own.
As he settled back into the couch, Mac couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself. He had turned away awfully quickly at her intentionally ambiguous statement, but she had seen desire flash in his eyes. She knew it must be in hers. She was a little buzzed, enough to see Dick as the incredibly attractive man he was without the haze of Cassidy looming around him, but not enough to actually act on it. That would take a whole bottle of Tanqueray, she thought briefly.
She raised her beer to him and took a fortifying sip before asking starting her turn. "Never have I ever… gotten married."
He drank around a bark of laughter. "I see Logan told you about that. So much for the sacred bonds of friendship." He shook his head ruefully. "Fine, MacKenzie, if you want to play that way. Never have I ever scammed my classmates out of their money."
His eyebrows shot up playfully, causing her chest to tighten a little. It reminded her of Cassidy, but it didn't have any of the actual malice that tainted the action in her mind's eye. It was warm, somehow. "Veronica! Wow, we really need new friends." They both laughed, and the sounds seemed to match up.
She unwound her scarf absently, not caring how thin and low her t-shirt was. If it distracted him and gave her a little ego boost in the process, all the better. She pressed on. "Never have I ever…" Was it too soon to make it dirty? She knew it would get there eventually, and she wanted to throw him off his game. If she was going to succeed in breaking down these mysterious walls with Dick, he needed to be as out of his element as he currently believed her to be. So no, not too early. "Never have I ever had sex with a girl."
He rolled his eyes, quipping, "Fuck, it's a good thing we're not drinking for each one." She laughed at that, at the simple, unabashed truth in it. She envied him his "romantic" history. Except for Madison, obviously. "Alright, never have I ever had anal." Woah, that escalated quickly. Evidently two could play Mac's game.
She raised the bottle to her lips just enough for his jaw to nearly hit the floor, then lowered it with a hopefully drunk-sounding laugh. "Kidding! God I wish you could have seen your face." She was still cracking up; he had a hand against his chest as though he could slow his thrilled heartbeat from the outside.
He shoved her with his other arm. "Damn it, Mac! That's a cruel little game. I'm never going to get that image out of my head now."
Who are you picturing me with? She almost asked. But she knew the answer she wanted, even though it surprised her all the same, and she was sure that it would ruin her endgame whatever it turned out to be. "Sorry man, I couldn't help it. I'm surprised at you though."
He flushed a little. "It is much harder than it sounds. All those sorority girls are so vanilla." He clicks his tongue regretfully.
"If only there were girls outside the Greek system! Imagine the possibilities!" She countered facetiously.
Dick shrugged his irritatingly toned shoulders. "Ah well, c'est la vie. Your turn, Jenna Jameson." Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.
"Alright, alright. Never have I ever participated in Sex Quest."
He drank so easily, and looked so good doing it, that Mac found herself wondering if she was the first girl to fake drunk to get something from Dick. "Never have I ever gotten any kind of body modification."
Fuck.
What were the fucking odds that he would ask that?
She raised the bottle to her lips again, watching him shake his head at her fake-out, until she actually took a swig. His face lit up so brilliantly; she desperately wished it were for a different reason, any other reason. It was a pretty spectacular thing.
"Explain yourself, Cindy." Mac hadn't even been sure that he had known her real name.
"It was a long time ago!"
"That is not a fucking explanation! What did you ink?!"
"Nothing! It's a piercing." He practically cackled after failing to find any visible jewelry on her face. "It's my nipple." She cringed, but he just stared at her like she just told him she actually was Jenna Jameson.
"Holy fucking Christ! I need more details! I need all the details." This was his Christmas. Mac didn't really want to ruin it by telling him the actual story, but she was too rattled to come up with a lie, and the truth would lead her to her ultimate goal much faster anyway.
"Fine, but it's not salacious at all. You're going to be sorely disappointed." He just stared at her expectantly. "It was after…after Cassidy died." She watched as his face clouded and he backed away a little, but kept listening. "You know that he and I never…we never got to be together." She knew he would get the implication; she could spare him actually hearing about his brother's lack of sex life with her. "Anyway, even after everything came out, I still felt like there was something wrong with me, so-"
"There wasn't." He said it so confidently. It sent warmth rushing through her.
She reached out to cover his hand with her own, though it didn't even come close. He didn't jolt away like she half-expected him to. Mac matched his steady eye contact with her own, hoping to convey how grateful she was for the comfort his words gave her. "Thank you. But it took a while for me to believe that. I was pretty down on myself for a few months after Grad night, and a friend suggested I do something to make myself feel a little more confident and desirable. Long story short, I wound up with a barbell through my nipple." She laughed softly, trying to assuage his obvious guilt, and gripped his hand a little tighter.
He smiled weakly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And did it work?"
"A little, actually. It made me feel more appreciative of my body, as cheesy as that sounds. It reminded me that I could take a lot of pain, and it made me feel a little more connected to my sexuality. But it didn't fix any of the real trauma, and I think I always knew that it wouldn't."
Dick stood up aggressively and turned away from her. She was surprised how much the loss of his hand stung. "Yeah well, add it to the list of tragedies we can blame on my brother." He said gruffly, finishing his beer in one shot.
Mac stood up, recognizing her chance. "Dick, I understand that you feel guilty about Cassidy. I'm sure I don't know the whole story, but I get it. But what I cannot wrap my head around is why you can't stand me."
His back went ramrod straight, but he didn't turn. "What is it, Dick? I try so hard to be nice to you, friendly even. I mean I need to be civil because I love Veronica and Logan, but I spend time with you voluntarily because I like you. So what the fuck is it? Why can't you be in the same room with me unless we're wasted? Why can't you touch me, even accidentally? For Christ's sake, why can't you even smile at me?"
He whirled around so fast, it startled her into taking a step back. "Because you always smile at me!" He shouted. His volume was low, but the venom was still there. She felt exposed and wounded, like he had slapped her. His clear blue eyes, usually so bright and comforting, burned with darkness.
Realization hit her like a second blow, and it stung even worse. "That's what this is about? Fuck, Dick! You don't hate me because you blame me. You hate me because I don't blame you."
Mac just stood there, gaping at him, finally understanding the meaning of the word "deflate". Dick - strong, over-confident, over-sexed, happy-go-lucky Dick - collapsed in on himself. A little Margaret Atwood quote, "I feel like the word 'shatter'", flitted through the part of her mind that wasn't focused on him. She closed the distance between them in an instant. Her hands went to his face; a little thrill went through her at the contact despite the seriousness of the situation. And he didn't pull away, which she took to mean that her plan had worked.
"You should despise me, Mac. Beav tortured you. He made you doubt yourself and then robbed you of your self-confidence in the most perverse way possible. He made you feel less, Mac, and you should hate me – forever – for allowing him to do that. I'm responsible for a lot of the fucked-up shit my brother did, but I can never forgive myself for everything he did to you. Never."
"Then where does that leave me, Dick? Because I have never, could never, blame you for any of it. I would never want to. It's not fair for you to blame yourself for everything that happened to me, and it's especially not fair to punish me because you can't let go of your guilt. So what can I do to move past this?"
After a long moment, she felt the tension ease out of his body. He believed her.
He finally met her eyes, moving his hands to rest interlaced on the small of her back. "I think you just did it, Cindy MacKenzie. I'm just…I'm so sorry." The way he formed the last word, with so much regret, so much feeling, so much relief, shook something loose in her.
She stepped up on her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying that little thrill all over. "I know, Dick. But this is where we are, and it feels like a pretty good place to be to me."
He returned the kiss on her opposite cheek, lingering a little longer. When he pulled away, she saw the humor return to his annoyingly perfect face. "You weren't even a tiny bit drunk, were you? This little game of yours was all a big con!"
She laughed, reveling in the comfort it seemed to bring him. "Please, Casablancas. Like I'd ever reveal my secrets."
They broke apart, but it didn't feel the same. They still felt close, and in that tiny little moment, Mac couldn't think of another way they should be.