A/N: Dick is a dick, of course of course. But underneath it all he's just broken.
I don't own Veronica Mars, if wishes were horses...
Cassidy's lips are always cold, you think. He kisses you sometimes, barely but you know it's enough for this to keep going. When his mouth is on yours your lips tingle with sensation, but you're not sure what kind. Lips are supposed to be warm, aren't they? Kisses hot? His leave you cold and you hate yourself for feeling like that.
You think his house is probably four times the size of yours, maybe five if you include the pool. He doesn't flaunt it like Dick, doesn't curl his lip at you like Dick—he just bows his head like he's ashamed of it and silently leads you to his room.
He's tidied it for you but boys tend to leave mess regardless. There's an unplugged Xbox on the floor by the TV, white noise playing because he's forgotten to turn the switch. There's a black sock unaccompanied at the end of the bed—Cassidy sweeps it off, pretending like it was never there.
You sit on the edge of the double bed, knees pressed together nervously and hands clasped neatly.
Cassidy can't meet your eyes and you think it's you—you have no idea do you? You attempt a smile, lips pulling up because you can't quite make one. What would it matter, anyway?—he's not looking at you.
There's a knock on the door, a loud rapping of knuckles and an uproarious laugh accompanies it. Dick barges through, a large can of beer in his hand and with his other arm he snags Cassidy's neck, swinging his brother around like he weighs nothing.
"Look at the cute couple! Want me to take your picture?"
Dick stumbles around the room he's too big for—also too drunk for—spilling beer with Cassidy in a chokehold. You look up at him and resist a glare but you catch his eye. Dick looks steadily back at you, and as your eyes hold on one another you could swear Dick is only acting drunk.
"Leave it alone, Dick," you hear Cassidy say weakly, but Dick's eyes don't leave yours.
It's a wicked kind of torment, because among the disdain and hate in Dick's eyes, you see something else, and you can't stand it. You shouldn't have come here, to this house—there's something unsettling about it, that it's so large, but so empty.
You quickly leave, bursting through the door and muttering some excuse about school tomorrow. You expect Cassidy to stop you, to follow—you expect Dick to laugh mercilessly. But neither happens, and you leave with a giant hole in your heart.
Before you fall asleep you think back—Cassidy's lips are always cold. They don't feel right against yours. What was that you saw in Dick's eyes? Jealously, maybe? You wonder, and you hate yourself for this, but you wonder—would Dick's kisses be hot? You think yes, and you force your eyes shut and will sleep to come.