For y-x, who instructed me to get back to writing. You took my suggestion, and I took yours.

For Katie, who is pretty much my Cruel Intentions counterpart, and lets me babble on randomly even when there's no writing in sight.

Breaking the Broken

Eight

Collateral Damage

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And they ended up… well making love isn't exactly what I'm looking for

But.

You.

Get.

The.

Picture.

Oh. What a wonderful caricature of intimacy.

PANIC! At the Disco

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The sole of the Prada shoe collided with the hardwood floor, and Cassidy Merteuil instantly regretted it. Why, oh why couldn't she have picked up a better habit? Then again, considering that dear cousin's little habit was cocaine, she could probably do worse than to stomp her foot in frustration. But it was close.

Nothing was going right today. This was her firm conclusion after having taken fourteen showers to wash Patrick Bale off of her. Angered beyond any emotion she had ever felt, most of it was directed towards herself but there was plenty to spare for the co-eds who thought that they could pull one over on her.

They had set the trap, and she had taken the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. The mere memory of the previous day's events made her want to yank out her glossy brunette curls, screaming in aggravation. She settled for stamping her foot.

A small part of her was impressed. No one had ever dared to pull a stunt against her, they had never dared. Yet Jason and Patrick had not only tricked her into sleeping with the homely blonde boy, but also on losing out on another bet she had made. Prince Christopher Newborn was "the new guy" at Prestridge University, so not only was he gorgeous but he dined with the queen. Cassidy had had her keen brown eye on him since he first stepped foot on campus. Last night, she had been so close to having him, only to have Patrick burst in like a lunatic, ranting about how they had 'made love' earlier that day. The little fucker had even had evidence.

Cassidy knew how to give credit where credit was due, and their little scheme had been brilliant, on a minor scale. It definitely was the only way that she would fuck Patrick Bale. If they had pulled this one over on anybody else, Cassidy would barely be able to breath; she would be laughing so hard. However, the gorgeous brunette could barely breathe now, and it had nothing to do with laughter, but the rage filling her lanky body, consuming her mind.

What would Kathryn do?

That brought her thoughts back to her second agitation—where the fuck was Kathryn Merteuil! She hadn't heard a peep out of the hell hole where her cousin was residing in a little over a week, and it made her paranoid. Kathryn and Cassidy had conversed at least once every three days. It had been that way ever since they were children, and nothing had ever gotten in the way of that. Not even their new-found hatred during adolescence had put up a barrier for the communication. If Kathryn hadn't called, which she had been doing religiously (after all, there isn't much entertainment in rehab. She needed tales of scandal for the outside world for her to look down upon.) it either meant that something awful had happened to the petite brunette, or something wonderful that managed to capture her complete attention. Cassidy wasn't sure which prospect was scarier.

Sometimes she wished that she were part of a normal family, and that she and Kathryn were like normal cousins. They could turn to each other for advice and laughs and comfort. With their current relationship, that thought was laughable at the very least. If was difficult to get Kathryn Merteuil to laugh over anything that wasn't at someone else's expense. After the age of fourteen, Cassidy had only met one person who could manage it. Sebastian Valmont.

God, she missed him lately. Cassidy would acknowledge full well that she barely knew the boy, but she had had him inside of her and figured that that had counted for something. It pained her more than anyone knew when he didn't call her afterwards. She had realized that he was Kathryn's, would always be Kathryn's, but that didn't really change anything. She still wanted him for her own. Cassidy's contentment was found in the fact that before his premature death, she had had more of him than her dear cousin did. Now it was time to let that be enough.

Setting aside her emotional turmoil, Cassidy Merteuil knew that it was time to plot meticulous revenge upon the roommates. In her mind's eye, she was still replaying the events that led up to them succeeded in their scheme. In her physical eye, glancing across the courtyard from her spacious individual dorm suite, she could see Michael and Sheila. They had been together since, well, forever. Cassidy was kind of friends with Sheila. She was kind of friends with everybody. She hadn't quite mastered Kathryn's "Everybody loves me and I intend to keep it that way,"… but it was pretty close. That was the story of her life, it seemed. Almost, pretty close, but not quite matching up to Kathryn. Shaking her bitter thoughts with a twitch of her pretty head, she refocused her cold eyes into the courtyard.

Michael and Sheila were probably already engaged, she thought with a sneer. Then it came to her—it was so perfect, and no one would ever see it coming. Cassidy would get back at both Patrick and Jason, and she didn't care much about the collateral damage.

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Green eyes following his silhouette around the room, Kathryn Merteuil wondered vaguely why she was always considered the beautiful one in their relationship…whatever relationship that might be. He moved around the room with a kind of elegance and natural grace. It was a bit like staring at a work of art, and having the illogical, uncontrollable urge to know exactly what the artist had intended, what it meant, the feeling behind it. Especially his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs that usually gave away nothing but an impression of haughty amusement. Back when life was normal, they could sit there, staring at each other for hours, trying to pry open the other for some semblance of an emotion. Rarely did they succeed, but that made it mean so much more when they had.

He didn't know she was awake yet. Sebastian ambled about the room silently, the only noise omitting from him was the soft humming. A deep, masculine, rumbling noise that she found comforting beyond words. Kathryn was torn—part of her wanted to clear her throat, announcing her alertness; the other part was content to just lie in the large bed, observing him in his natural environment. Frowning slightly, she tried to remember how she had gotten into his bed in the first place. It wasn't unusual at all, really.

At home, Sebastian had never slept much. It was like he was too full of life to be still for prolonged amounts of time. While Kathryn was just fine with lying in wait, a tiger surveying its prey, Sebastian was constantly on the verge of pouncing. In the wee hours of the morning sometimes, he would roam the house, looking for a diversion. Anything to pass the time. In a way, that was how Sebastian lived his whole life. There was no need for a young man of his position to work, or even learn, so school, and girls, and sex… it was all just a waste of time for him. Classic literature was his search for meaning in a life that had been stripped of it. The books in his bedroom gave clues into his soul where read in-depth, as Kathryn had discovered. He had read nearly every piece in the family's extensive library, but the ones that had really meant something to him had been relocated to his private bookcase.

Easing the heavy oak door open, Kathryn cursed herself for having gone out at all last night. It was four o'clock in the morning, and she was just returning to the luxury townhouse where she resided with her mother and step-family. It was just her luck that on one of her latest nights, her mother was actually in town. Slipping off her Manolo Blahnik sandals, she crept silently into the house making as little noise as possible.

Court Reynolds, Kathryn's boyfriend du jour, had been hosting a party for a select group of friends. Namely, every athletic alcoholic in Manchester Prep, until the jocks were too drunk to notice who came in, in which case it became an open party. As girlfriend of the host, her presence was required. One thing led to another, and of course she spent the night. The poster girl of perfection, Manchester's pride and joy, was certainly not the type to fuck and run. Kathryn had spent the previous night catering to the sexual whims of her egomaniacal boyfriend. And she hadn't come once.

Holding in the sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught yet but was almost to her bedroom, she didn't want to jinx anything. Her mother and the impotent asshole that the law had labeled her "stepfather" had a room in an entirely different wing of the house, but you didn't get to where Kathryn Merteuil was by being careless. She was half in her bedroom, the inner sanctum of the ultimate ice queen, when she was distracted by the warm glow of a lamp spilling out into the hallway from the crack in the library door. Creeping towards it quietly and wondering all the while exactly why she was doing it, Kathryn lightly pushed open the library door and came face to face with her stepbrother. This blonde head had just snapped up from his book, and his ice blue eyes were locked on hers, and to her surprise, he looked surprised.

"Kathryn? What are you doing here?"

"I live here, don't I?" she spat back rhetorically. He smirked at her from behind his glasses, sliding them off his face and gazing levelly at her. In her seventeen years, Kathryn had had more men than most do in their lifetime, but there was something about Sebastian that always managed to turn her on.

"How should I know? You never come to see me anymore, Kat…" he pouted, laughter in his eyes. He closed the giant old book, and set it on the table next to him, eyes daring her to come closer. This was another instance when Kathryn had found herself torn over Sebastian—stay where she was, safe and in control of her motions, or move closer. Where her stepbrother was involved, it was always get as close as you could, fuck the consequences. Meeting his eyes defiantly, she moved smoothly across the room, perching herself on his knee. Contact had always been her fool-proof way of making him come unglued.

Swinging one leg around to the other side, she straddled his thighs and crawled forward slowly, her short skirt riding up. "Aww, I'm sorry 'Bastian. Is somebody feeling neglected?" she asked, using baby-talk instead of her normal tone. His large calloused hand dropped down to her toned thighs, tips playing against the edges of her lace underwear, but his eyes never left hers.

"Yes," he said simply. Off her incredulous glance, he added. "No bullshit. We used to hang out all the time, Kat."

"We still hang out," she muttered defensively.

"Not like we used to," he had said, and she said nothing to refute this. There was nothing she could say, coming to the painful realization that he was right.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn admitted with a little quiver in her voice. "But it's not like your ever home! You're always out with Blaine, or some conquest, or—"

"Like that compares," Sebastian had said. "You know that I would ditch them for you in a second. I always have," he continued, and they knew that they both were flashing back to the Cassidy incident. "I guess you just mean more to me than I do to you."

"That's not true!" she protested. "You know it isn't," she whispered brokenly. She had always hated discussing feelings, but somehow this conversation of the early morning seemed different. It felt like it was okay now.

He had said nothing, merely stared soulfully back at her. She met his gaze unflinchingly, feeling naked before him. Slowly, Kathryn leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers. In Kathryn's secret opinion, it had been far too long since they had last done this, and though it was usually him that initiated it, Kathryn Merteuil had never had any trouble taking the lead. He needed to know how she felt, but they were words that she couldn't say.

She thought he would push for sex as he usually did, and she was kind of hoping he would. However, he broke away gently after moments passed, leaving their kiss alone, untainted.

"You should get to bed. You just got in," he told her unnecessarily. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"And you didn't?" Kathryn asked with her eyebrows raised challengingly.

"Kat, I just got up," Sebastian had said with a slight laugh.

After that night, she had started quietly setting her alarm for 4:30 each morning, trying to catch him in a defenseless, sensitive state. Or maybe just to spend time with him at all. Some days he would read to her, passages that he found meaningful or relevant or containing a message he wanted her to decode. Some days they sat there in silence. Some days Kathryn would miss the alarm, and Sebastian would be a little quieter at breakfast than usual.

One night, Kathryn did as he requested—she went back to bed. But she brought him with her.

It wasn't the alarm, but a brutal nightmare which had awoken her. Kathryn had always been plagued by them, a nocturnal reflection of her conscious thoughts. Silently whimpering, she willed herself to get it together before she woke someone up. Naturally, Sebastian entered at that moment, cradling her in his arms until her nerves were soothed. Smoothing down her hair, he kissed her forehead and told her to try and get some rest. He had turned away then, but hadn't gotten very far. Her tiny hand and flown out, grabbing his own and yanking him down to the bed. Startled, he had toppled over easily, landing awkwardly beside her. Automatically, she had readjusted her body to lie directly against his. He said nothing of it that night, or the night after that, or every other night that Kathryn had crawled into bed with him. He just held her. It was the most he could hope for.

Kathryn made the decision then, in the guest bedroom at Tromperie Manor, as he turned back towards the bed, to feign sleep. He would probably be able to tell. He had always been able to read her like the books he loved so much. Thoughts churning upon this new analogy, Kathryn wondered if maybe, like the books in which he had looked so hard for it, he would be able to find meaning within her.

As his fit body slid in behind hers, arm curling protectively around her waist, she realized that he had come back for this. He had come back for her. As he placed a light kiss to her neck and settled back against the pillow, she wondered if maybe he had already found it.

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Hey guys. Yes, I did update, like, yesterday. Sooner than you'd imagine, lol. But, sudden burst of inspiration, and here I am again lol. Please please please review and let me know what you think. You'll be my bestest friend!

Thanks for reading!

Xo Sam