MODUS OPERANDI

His hands are shaking a little, but dismisses it. There's no reason for them to be. This is the same plan that's been swirling in his head, slowly growing more and more formed, for going on six months now. Dick getting home drunker and drunker; so very blind, so very stupid, so very naive. It was Logan's birthday party, and Dick got suitably trashed and pushed it on to Beaver to deal with. But Cassidy's got a plan; Dick should know that. Remember that. Remember her.

Dick is half-unconscious, sprawled across the passenger seat. Beaver has to get him into the house somehow, and after opening the doors, he lays on of Dick's arms across his shoulders with a sigh.

"Come on, Dick," he says as he pulls Dick out of the car, wrapping one arm around Dick's waist to keep him steady. Dick mumbles something, probably 'fuck you.' It doesn't matter. Cassidy shuts the car doors, still trying to balance the weight of Dick on him, heavy. Blond hair brushes against his neck, and Cassidy freezes as something – excited; terrified – shoots down his spine. He hates this feeling; this regret, this hesitance. He doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

He eventually forces the front door open; Dick still weighing him down like a lead weight. He manages to drag Dick up the stairs – slowly, because Dick is barely even awake – and eventually they get to Dick's room, and Cassidy dumps him on the bed. Dick's eyes are shut, and he looks peaceful.

Cassidy pauses, just for a few seconds. Gently, he brushes a strand of hair out of Dick's face – Dick murmurs something; Cassidy can't make it out.

"Dick," he whispers, "You awake?"

Dick nods a little, eyes still closed, and Cassidy's eyes dart around in a panic. He knows that there's no-one here; that his dad is out trying to fuck that Kendall gold-digging slut, but he makes sure.

Cassidy sighs, and tries to control the shaking of his hands as he reaches for Dick's belt-buckle. Dick's hazy, drunk expression makes it look like he doesn't even know what's going on. Cassidy keeps expecting him to turn out to be sober after all (or sober enough); to wake up and kick his ass. It doesn't happen. Dick's eyes eventually flutter open, as Cassidy notches to zipper on his zip slowly down.

"What?" he says, so slurred Cassidy barely understands the question. He doesn't sound scared; just confused – he trusts Cassidy; Cassidy can feel it coming off him like a radiation wave. Cassidy is full of an overwhelming urge to crush this trust; to grind his brother into the dirt; such a stupid boy; stupid a naive, vulnerable, stupid boy.

He chuckles as he reaches his hand down Dick's jeans, bringing his hand to rest. "What do you think I'm doing to you, Dick?" he asks, and Dick just shakes his head like he can't believe it.

"Dude..." he trails off, still barely-awake from the drink. Cassidy swallows the lump in his throat as he slowly starts to stroke at Dick's soft length; he was always good at this bit. Following instructions; quiet and obedient, not begging or screaming or being degraded. Such a good little boy, made out of glass.

After a few seconds, Dick seems to realize he should be trying to move. His movements are slow and jerky, and he kind of looks like he's going to be sick. With a disproportionate flood of anger, Cassidy pounces up and pins Dick to the bed by his wrists.

"What are you doing?" Dick asks, barely intelligible. Cassidy can't help but laugh as he leans down, to bite at Dick's neck.

"Come on, Dick," he says. "This is what you told me to do."

He closes his eyes and bites his lip to keep the image back, although he's not sure why he's bothering. Veronica had looked so simple, so innocent, so easily broken. He didn't want to be the monster, but it was so hard to resist destroying her. It was Dick's fault; Cassidy knows that; but Big Brother is easily destroyed too. He is Beaver, destroyer of worlds.

With firm strokes and closed eyes, Cassidy suddenly realizes Dick is finally hard, despite being barely conscious. A despairing whimper escapes the older brother's mouth; Cassidy feels his mouth twist in victory. He laughs a little.

"So you're liking this. Good to know," he doesn't fool himself into thinking it's true. That's the whole point. Dick can't help it, and isn't sober enough to stop him. Stupid little boy, not expecting monsters and pain, not expecting to join the team and...

He cuts that thought off mid-way through. That's over know. Over know and Dick is still flat on his back underneath him.

Dick's eyes close again, but Cassidy shrugs it off. He pulls off Dick's jeans, while still loosely having one hand wrapped around Dick's wrist to keep him down. It's not necessary, but Cassidy is paranoid.

He's still sort of jerking at Dick's cock, who is making odd sounds. He sounds broken; like some great tidal wave has just come up and destroyed something he loved.

Destroyed his little brother, maybe.

Cassidy shrugs it off, and reaches for his own belt-buckle. The cold-metal makes reality snap back at him, like a piranha. What he's doing is wrong, awful, and this is the worse betrayal of his brother humanly possible. Cassidy soon realizes he doesn't care about any of that. After all, he kind of doubts Veronica would care about any of that.

He can hear her muttering in his ear: Go ahead, do it. Do it for what he made of us both – he told you do to this to me! He ruined both of us; he's the reason and he should pay for it. Come on my brave little boy, hurt him for me. Please?

Cassidy knows he's being stupid; that Veronica's not really there and she wouldn't think it's Dick's fault instead of his if she was there. He doesn't really care, because the thought of the things she would say is motivation enough to err him forward. He pulls off his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with Dick's. Cassidy stares at the pile of denim for a few seconds; it looks like it doesn't make sense, even though Cassidy understands exactly what is going on.

Then he moves; shuffles his body up so he's sitting, pressed against Dick's cock. Dick takes in a sharp breath, so Cassidy knows he's still awake enough to notice. He leans down, and nips at Dick's ear.

"Rise and shine, Dickie," he says mockingly, but he gets only terrified whimpers. So instead, he drives his teeth hard into the flesh of Dick's earlobe, and his brother screams. Cassidy feels satisfied.

"Get it together, Dick," he says, raising himself on his knees, gripping Dick's shoulders. "It's a big day in about, oh, two seconds or so."

And then, finally, he's plunging down onto Dick's cock with a hiss. And it hurts. Like it really hurts. He doesn't mind; he expected that after all. It always hurt before, no reason for that to have changed now.

Dick is shaking his head like he can't believe this is happening, and Cassidy just wants to slap him and force him to see. This is what Cassidy is doing to him, and he should admit it and be hurt by it. Cassidy remembers how he used to be; eyes shut tight, as if when he couldn't see it, it wasn't really happening. Bullshit; even though he's never going to let a single person on this Earth find out, it happened and there is no going back from that. He's not going to fool himself into thinking he doesn't care; not going to fool himself into thinking anyone else would.

His insides twist a little in anger as he raises himself on his knees again, and slams back down. He's riding it for real now; listening to the little despairing noises that come out of Dick's mouth, but he doesn't like it much. It still hurts; like a lot; like having something tearing at him, ripping him in two. He can't afford to care about that, however, so he keeps going with his knees on either side of Dick and hands holding onto Dick's shoulders for dear life. He knows Dick can't hear him moaning and grunting; and that's weighing Dick down and sinking him deeper and deeper into the filth.

Dick's eyes are still closed; he's still barely awake, and doesn't want Cassidy to see however he will look. Cassidy suddenly realizes he is bleeding around Dick's cock, and even though he kind of saw that one coming too, it makes him irrationally angry. He is the one doing the destroying here; why can Dick make him bleed?

In a second, he stills himself and aims a hard punch at Dick's face, who makes a mewling noise to respond. "Son of a bitch," Cassidy swears; and the pain and the blood only makes him angry and want to hurt Dick more; only makes him ride Dick faster.

Dick's hands are struggling slowly; Cassidy knows Dick would have fought him off long ago if his defenses were up enough for it. Cassidy knows Dick was stupid, letting his defenses down like that; he wonders if Dick realizes that too. But Dick is still squirming like being here is killing him; he opens his eyes and just looks at Cassidy.

"No," he says.

The sound is so unlike anything Cassidy's ever heard from his brother; so tiny, so pathetic, so helpless that he wants to stop. Wants to get up, run away and never come back because he won't be able to look his brother in the eye and know what happened.

So Cassidy forces himself to think. Always Dick the favorite; always a million cruel pranks; always a million awful, disgusting jokes after – after – and then Veronica Mars and a wedding March, like a deranged parody, and Cassidy keeps going dammit.

Guttural noises are flowing out his mouth and now he's got his eyes shut tight because he's not going to let Dick look at him like that again. He feels Dick's entire body shaking, and vaguely wonders if his older brother is about to come already. He opens his eye just int time for Dick, not to come, but to lurch up and vomit all over everything; the bed, Cassidy, and himself.

"Ew!" Cassidy cries out, somewhat stupidly. This is disgusting; but he pretty much has to finish. He punishes Dick by driving sharp fingernails into the sensitive skin on the inside of Dick's arms, who hisses in pain; just delayed enough that Cassidy knows he's still on the edge of passing out.

So Cassidy grits him teeth, shoves himself further down and makes sure they're both going to come in this blood-and-puke stained bed. Dick is still whimpering, eyes shut tight and desperately wanting to get away; it doesn't matter. Cassidy moves and moves over Dick's cock until he finally feels Dick shoot straight in him; until something tightens in his body and he comes.

He takes a few seconds after, trying to catch his breath and not let the disgusting scent of blood and sick and come get to him. Dick lies on his side, shaking just the tiniest bit, and Cassidy knows he has to change everything. Dick's barely conscious anyway, and only makes the tiniest sound as Cassidy roughly pushes him off the bed.

Cassidy bundles the sheets up, and feels their various bodily fluids landing on his arms. He feels nauseous, like he did after Veronica, but he keeps it down this time. Not point to being sick over it; this is him. He goes downstairs and throws them in the washer, then he trudges back up to pull Dick toward the bathroom.

Dick pretty much has passed out by now, so Cassidy has to be kind of careful. He leans Dick against the clean glass doors, mouth out of the way of the shower head so he won't drown. Cassidy turns the water on blisteringly hot, but he doubts Dick will mind. He leaves his older brother there for a little, as he goes back to the room to make the bed. He can shower later.

After ten minutes or so, he's done with the bed and goes to get Dick back from the bathroom. Dick is so quiet, so still, that for a second Cassidy thinks he might be dead. That's stupid. He turns out the water and runs a finger over Dick's pink, splotchy skin. Dick doesn't notice. Then Cassidy pulls his brother's arm around his shoulder again, like a lead weight.

Cassidy throws Dick to the bed and watches him collapse. He sees the tiny tremors in Dick's sleep, and can't help but smirk. Cassidy leans down and, lips brushing against Dick's ear, whispers: "Sleep Dick. This never happened. You'll wake up in the morning, and it'll amaze you how much this never happened."

Cassidy goes to take a shower.


The next morning, Cassidy is sitting at the kitchen table, laboriously forcing bits of cereal down his throat. He's nervous. If Dick remembers; knows what happened, he's pretty much officially screwed. It was probably a very bad idea in the first place, but Cassidy isn't known for his fantastic plans.

"Dude," he hears Dick mutter from the stairs; half-dressed and hungover. "Since when is the kitchen light that bright?" he asks.

Cassidy can't help but smile. Dick doesn't remember a thing. "Since you got too fucking wasted to deal with the normal world after; does this honestly surprise you?" he asks.

"Fuck off," Dick automatically responds, before wrenching open the fridge door. Testing his luck, Cassidy wanders over there and gently lays his hand on Dick's shoulder. He sees Dick jump back, and feigns concerns as he asks: "What's wrong?"

He sees Dick's thoughts swimming in his eyes like he can't keep his head in check, just for a second. God knows Cassidy remembers that emotion. "Nothing," says Dick. "Weird dream, that's all."

Cassidy smiles. "Well, you know what they say. A dream is a wish your heart makes," he says, just to see Dick flinch.