New Year
When he gets back from the bathroom she's asleep.
She was passed out on the couch as fireworks popped on the television, echoing the far off bangs of the display, no doubt, going on over his house.
He couldn't really blame her though, she had been running around after her little brother most of the day, according to her play by play.
He had to take her word on that. The tyrant had been in bed by the time he arrived.
Her parents had gone to some New Year's party, or the like leaving her with babysitting duty.
They had originally planned to ring in the New Year together at his place, watching horror movies in the dark. That was until Dick had decided to throw a New Year's party.
He's pretty sure he did it, almost entirely, to throw a wrench in their plans. Probably to get laid more than anything though. He'd been oddly dry, what with Madison and him being on the outs again.
Mac lay there dead asleep, an arm and a leg hanging off the front of the couch. She somehow made it look like the most comfortable thing in the world.
He knelt down in front of the couch and took her wrist in his fingers. It was delicate and the skin was welcoming, silk soft and warm. His fingers looped easily around her wrist, he had trouble imagining the power in her hands because she was so very powerful. The proof of it sat in the glove compartment of his car with the gun, ammo and wires.
There was a delicate silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist, something tangible and believable. She had made a fuss about how it was too expensive, it had been adorable.
She makes a soft little noise in her sleep and her body twists on the couch. It hits him just how easy it would be to take her V-card now. He put a heavy hand on her bare leg sliding slowly up under the fabric of her skirt.
He's noticed that in spite of her earlier refusal of skirts, she's been wearing more of them.
She murmurs in her sleep, her fingers grip onto his hand and his it stops its climb up her leg. God, didn't she know how dangerous this was? He was? How many times had he almost ripped her virginity from her, he wasn't even sure anymore.
But she always managed to pull him back, with a smile, movement or word. It had to be love. Good and proper love, because how else could she have that power over him?
"Alright then." He sighs and stands, trying to judge how difficult moving her will be. He's not exactly frail or anything, but neither is she and there are stairs to consider.
He leans down and pulls her into his arms, the weight of her pulling on his joints, but the very idea of how easily Dick would be able to do this spur him on. She rolls into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt in her sleep.
He manages to get up to her bedroom with limited issues, he knocks a picture of her family, at the grand canyon, sideways but he's sure she'll forgive him.
He lays her down on the bed and she looks instantly comfortable.
There's room... He could lay down with her...for just a few minutes...
He slides into the bed next to her and a strange kind of calm falls over him. The stress of making sure that he doesn't end up in jail, and the heavy feeling of worry that she would find out-that everyone would find out- all just melt away.
"Can I sleep with you every night?" He asks her quietly, knowing that she can't hear him.
She slides a leg between his and an arm slides across his stomach, her hot hand against his skin, the cold of the silver bracelet cutting up the heat.
Normally the action would make him want to ravage her, just bury right into her until it hurt, but there's a soft slow feeling now and he knows what it is...
"I love you." He whispers into the dark of her bedroom.
She moves around him until her head is in the crook of his neck, her mouth hot against the skin there.
Her breathing is still the low, slow, steady pace of actual sleep and it lulls him to sleep as well.
It's probably the best sleep he's had in years.
"Cassidy." He wakes to the sound of his name on her tongue and the press of her fingers against his shoulders.
She's leaning over him, a soft smile on her face but her eyes keep darting towards the bedroom door.
"Hey..." He lifts a hand and runs his fingers softly across her cheek and down her neck, he leans up and kisses her softly, when he pulls away he asks her, "Can we start everyday like this?"
"As much as I'd like that... I'd rather the first time you actually meet my parents to not be them finding you in my bed after they've been gone all night."
"Oh shit." He hisses sitting up quickly, he can hear her parents downstairs, "Where..."
"The window?" She offers with a sad, little smile.
With a sigh, but still in a surprisingly good place, he takes his phone and keys from the bedside table and climbs out the window.
He makes a mental note of how sturdy the lattice outside her window is.
The party must have been a proper bacchanalia because it looks like Dick's imagination exploded everywhere.
Red solo cups and empty, or mostly empty, bottles litter the yard. There are several dresses and heels on the ground like the party had been raptured. Fucking confetti, everywhere.
He sends pictures of the devastation to Mac before he calls the maid service. He may have to clean up most of Dick's messes, but, fuck if he was going to physically clean this mess.
In his search for his brother, he finds Casey in the bathtub, alone, with a pretty purple lei in his hair, like a crown.
He finds Dick face down on his bed, the bright colors of a lei settled between the deep red scratches down his back.
"God that's going to get infected..." He considered leaving him, or maybe taking the half empty bottle of tequila off the nightstand and sterilizing his battle scars that way.
He takes a picture of Dick and sends it to Mac, as well.
The phone goes off before he even gets it all the way into his pocket.
Mac: God did he have sex with a panther?
He smirks and moves from the room to find the First Aid kit in the back of his closet.
He has the First Aid kit and a couple bottles of Coke on the table, patiently reading until Dick and Casey emerge from the house.
It's surprisingly early for them to be up on New Year's day, but he'd set every alarm in the house on.
"Why was this on my face?" Dick grumbles unhappily, showing him a Post-it with the word pool on it.
He taps the First Aid kit, in response, and Dick sinks to the ground in front of him, grabbing a Coke on his way.
Casey drops to the seat across from him grabbing a Coke, he still has the purple crown in his hair.
"So where were you all night?" Casey asks not really looking at him; his eyes narrowed at the evidence of his brother's activities. He's not sure if he's impressed or disgusted.
"I was with Mac." He tells them; wiping an antiseptic wipe down one of the long claw marks.
Dick tenses under his fingers and he's positive it has nothing to do with the cold of the alcohol.
"Beaver finally lose his V-card? You nail Ghostworld?" Casey laughs, but before he can tell him to mind his own fucking business, before he can tell them he hasn't had it in a while Dick's voice crashes across the backyard.
Dark, deep, and gravelly.
"Don't call him that."
"What?"
"Beaver...don't call him that anymore." Dick's voice has an odd, firm quality to it that he hasn't heard in a long time.
His movements on Dick's injuries smooth out and could probably be considered delicate.
Maybe it was going to be a good year. He had started off the New Year in bed with Mac- which was probably his favorite place in the world- and Dick had just used his serious voice to get someone to stop calling him Beaver.
God bless 2005.
He wondered how long it would last, but with his father's shit influence on Dick maybe this would stick.
"Besides if he and Ghostworld want to wait until they're married to start having super genius babies then let them. It's bad enough finding them making out all over the place." Dick waves a dismissive hand and he can't help but smile at that.