Best Friends With Benefits

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, I've had a busy few weeks with school and work. This one is sort of short and a little sloppy, I tried to condense the next few years so I could dig into the Brooke/Lucas/Peyton love triangle. I tweaked things around a bit, but not too bizarrely. Hope you enjoy.

Things were never quite the same for the cheerleaders. They spent the remainder of their freshman year awkwardly trying to avoid one another, and hypersensitive to any kind of hurt the other could inflict. Brooke never fully recovered from the feeling of rejection and desire to possess Peyton any time she saw her with Nathan, so Peyton quickly learned to avoid having the two in the same room. While Peyton dated Nathan fairly monogamously, Brooke never dated the same boy for more than a few weeks. That was almost a blessing to the blonde -- she didn’t want to think about what it would mean if Brooke settled down with someone she could actually fall for.

Though Peyton understood the pain in their relationship, she knew the greatest victim in this tragedy was Nathan. Peyton knew Nathan had fallen in love with her, and for a while, he was quite the gentleman. He even made their nights enjoyable -- though Peyton found it hard to think about anyone but Brooke. He treated her well, bought her gifts, showered her with attention. He introduced her to his parents and bragged about her at school. This went on for months and Peyton accepted all of it as necessary. She didn’t enjoy it; she could barely tolerate basketball and cheerleading, and though he was a sweet, good-natured boy, Peyton didn’t find him very interesting. It did break her heart to see the way he tried to please her, and the disappointment in his face whenever she didn’t react the way he’d hoped.

To Nathan, Peyton was a mystery. There were depths behind the walls she put up that baffled and intrigued him, and he tried desperately to shake her off her guard. But her eyes never revealed anything other than studious curiosity, or detached amusement, or even resentment at his antics. He was in love with her, he wanted her to love him back. When she didn’t he became confused and hurt, and finally, angry. His own fury at being rejected was reflected right back at Peyton, in the form of verbal abuse. He called her names and made sick jokes out of her to his friends, finding any excuse to bash her and humiliate her. Peyton mostly took this in stride, understanding that it was his way of hurting her just as much as she hurt him by not accepting or returning his love.

By the time they were mid-way through their sophomore year, the bad attitude in Nathan far outweighed any good he did. It completely astounded Brooke, who was in turn infuriated and confused by the couple.

“Why do you let him do that to you, Peyton?” Brooke asked, after confronting the girl in her bedroom.

Peyton shrugged, her back to her friend, one hand fiddling with a CD on her desk, while the other cupped her side. “It’s not that bad, Brooke.”

“Peyton!” Brooke was frustrated and angry. Nathan had had the nerve to call Peyton a wannabe emo skank during their lunch today, much to the amusement of the other guys on the team and, Brooke was ashamed to recall, some of the other cheerleaders. Peyton had simply taken the insult with a steely glare, while it was all Brooke could do not to knock the crap out of that arrogant prick. “It’s not okay, the things he says to you.”

Peyton sighed, turning to meet Brooke’s worried gaze. How could she explain to Brooke that Nathan was an unknowing participant in their little war? By now it was obvious even to the brunette that every time she slept with some random guy at a party or had a week-long fling it caused Peyton a lot of grief. Brooke had also made it clear that she absolutely despised Nathan and the idea that he and Peyton slept together. But Brooke didn’t stop the one night stands, and Peyton never broke up with Nathan. The men in their lives were like shields against the other’s hurt, but also served as knives to create the wounds. Peyton had picked up on this nearly a year ago, and it hadn’t taken Brooke much longer. It was a circular situation, Brooke sleeping with random guys in an attempt to hurt Peyton, because she refused to leave Nathan. And Peyton stayed with Nathan because Brooke continued to sleep with various men. Poor Nathan -- he was really the sucker in this deal, not the other way around.

One thing remained unbroken, however: the two never spoke about it, and it was as if their lovemaking before were merely a dream, or a memory. Peyton was trying to figure out a way to justify her relationship with Nathan without broaching that very forbidden subject. “I know you care about me, Brooke. But just stay out of it. It’s between Nathan and me.”

Brooke’s brows were furrowed, her expression grim. She hated this -- she hated Nathan for talking down to Peyton, and was disgusted at Peyton for taking it. The P. Sawyer Brooke knew and loved would have put that sorry son of a bitch out on his ass -- if not handing it to him first. What had changed in the blonde, that she would take it sitting down? Much less remain in a relationship with a boy who obviously loathed her?

Brooke was afraid it had something to do with her. Brooke had never been good at analyzing her way through her problems, while Peyton excelled at it. Rather, she felt, and experienced, and pushed aside things that bothered her, until eventually they just went away. Brooke lived on a rollercoaster of emotions, while Peyton did her best to control them. It was something Brooke admired in her, though of late Peyton was more sad than happy, more stoic than joyful. It was a downward spiral that Brooke had noticed, but felt helpless to stop. She knew if she only did something -- something -- then she’d have her old Peyton back. Brooke just didn’t know what it was.

“I can’t do that, P. Sawyer,” Brooke answered, her voice more gentle now. Brooke was becoming used to the fact that Peyton would melt anytime she used softness instead of anger. Brooke’s hand reached out to grasp Peyton’s, her eyes wide and sorrowful. “You’re my best friend. I just can’t let him treat you like that.”

Peyton swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, praying that when she talked, her voice would come out steady. “He’s a nice guy, Brooke. Really.” Peyton strained to be reasonable, but it was hard, with Brooke’s fingers rubbing idly over her own. “We get along pretty well in private. Just.. In public..” Peyton had to drop her gaze. The intensity of Brooke’s eyes were starting to get to her. “You know about his dad. And this year, the basketball has gotten like a million times worse than it has been ever before. He’s just feeling a lot of stress and pressure to exceed.” It was the truth, a nice, truncated version of it.

“Stop making excuses for him.” Brooke said impatiently, giving Peyton’s limp fingers a squeeze. “He should know better.”

Peyton tried smiling. She wasn’t sure if it worked. “It’s okay, Brooke.” It did make her happy to realize Brooke noticed the things Nathan did, even if she didn’t fully understand the reason behind them. In a different situation, Peyton would have needed the strength of Brooke Davis to help her get away from a menacing, nearly abusive Nathan Scott. As it was, Peyton wouldn’t leave him, and she was fairly secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t leave her, either. How could Peyton explain to Brooke that all of this circled back to a few passionate nights nearly a year ago? That if Brooke had allowed for a relationship between them, this never would have happened? Peyton sighed, biting back the thought before it ever made it to her lips. That wasn’t fair -- the way they were now was a product of both their decisions’, not just Brooke’s.

“I just worry about you, Peyton.” Brooke struggled against the urge to kiss the blonde. She always had been helpless against the pain in her eyes, and though lately Peyton had developed a tough exterior, Brooke still saw the lost, helpless girl that she had first become friends with all those years ago. It made her chest tighten with something like regret, and the desire built to erase all the ache Peyton had ever felt at Brooke’s hands. Brooke may have not been as intuitive as Peyton, but she did realize that every time she took Peyton to bed, it made her feel.. something. Made her forget, maybe. She was happy, if only for a while. Brooke wanted nothing more than to give that to her, now.

Peyton tried laughing it off, and gave Brooke’s arm a playful little slap. “Well, I can take care of myself. Why don’t you tell me about your newest love interest? Tyler, right?”

Brooke smiled uneasily, moving to sit on Peyton’s bed. Usually boys were an off-topic subject. It threw her off that Peyton suddenly showed her interest in Brooke’s conquests. “Well, yeah. Tyler Miller, the senior. I got it from Bevin that he likes me.” Brooke shrugged. “Might as well see what we can see on Saturday.”

Peyton smiled bemusedly. “Don’t you think you could try to, you know, date him? You’ve never really had a boyfriend.”

Brooke scrunched up her nose. “What, and settle down into marital bliss like you and Nathan? I’ll pass.”

Peyton laughed, and aimed a kick at Brooke’s leg. “I just think you should try it! Something lasting. You might like it.”

Brooke shrugged, smiling, glad that the elephant in the room was finally acknowledged, though it didn’t erase the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Just not my style, P. Sawyer. You never know who’ll be hot one week and not the next. Gotta keep my options open.”

Peyton uttered another laugh, though her expression was more serious. “Is that all it is to you, Brooke?”

“What?” Brooke was curious.

“All the guys, and dating, and the sex, is it just like a big game?” Peyton already knew, but she wondered if Brooke herself did. “And at the end, who’s really the winner? Is it you?”

Brooke frowned, unsettled by Peyton’s questions. Brooke was on a ruthless climb to the top -- so what if she broke a few hearts on the way? “I just like to have fun, Peyton. If I’m having a good time, then yeah, I win.”

Peyton sighed, regretting that she had ruined their lighthearted mood. “Do you ever look past it, Brooke?”

Brooke’s eyebrows rose. “Past what?”

“The cheerleading and the basketball.. high school.. do you ever look past it?”

“Sure.” Brooke smiled, her tone contemplative. “I think about it sometimes and it scares me. But then I think that I’ll get into the right college, join the right sorority.. and marry some rich guy. Unless I get fat,” She was resigned to that idea.

“Nice.” Peyton’s expression was unimpressed.

---

In their junior year, everything changed. It changed in the form of one Lucas Scott, a boy that had skulked at the fringes of their circle for years, circling, feinting, and finally finding a way in when Whitey was convinced by Keith Scott to allow him to play on the basketball team.

Peyton had never noticed him before. She remembered, vaguely, signing his year book the year before, and something about how he was related to Nathan. Nathan never talked about him, or acknowledged him, or even looked at him -- which was pretty weird, Peyton had to admit. If she had had family at Tree Hill high, she would have at least been friendly. Maybe. Nowadays Peyton was rarely nice to anyone, much less this sniveling little nobody that insisted on prying into her life at every opportunity.

She found out that he was Nathan’s brother. Stranger and stranger. It was a bizarre little town that could hide that secret for so long -- though she suspected that many of their parents’ generation knew about it. Nathan must have always known; she suspected from the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders when she asked about it that it was hardly a surprise. Lucas certainly knew he was Dan Scott’s other son, the elder, the abandoned and neglected. She had heard enough of that sorry little tale to be disgusted by it.

He seemed too eager, in his feigned reluctance, to take Nathan‘s spot as golden boy. Peyton almost pitied him: she knew firsthand how very unpleasant a role that was. She had spent too many years on Nathan’s arm to not be fully aware of the kind of hell Dan Scott put his prodigal son through. She admired the way Nathan held up under the stress, though often times it was released in venom directed at Peyton. The months and months of this had toughened up Peyton in kind; she was now also well-versed in spite and vengeance, and could pull words full of dark truths and bitter loathing out of her soul with little provocation. Usually this was aimed at anyone but Nathan.

Her routine was flawless, now. Mornings usually found her groaning out of bed, showering, dressing, and driving to school. She ate breakfast with Brooke and Nathan and their crowd. Brooke had finally made captain of the cheerleading team, and she was driving the squad ruthlessly towards championship. Then class, and lunch with the same crowd, and sketching at home after school until Nathan was finished with basketball practice. They usually ate dinner together and had sex -- or ate dinner and fought. Once in a while they broke up, but it rarely lasted longer than twelve or so hours. On the weekends it was the same noisy, rambunctious party at Nathan’s parent’s beach house, where Brooke got messily drunk and fucked more people than Peyton could keep up with. That usually guaranteed that Nathan would get lucky.

Nathan might have noticed, had he been a little less self-absorbed, that Peyton’s passion directly mirrored Brooke’s. If Brooke was being amorous -- sleeping with anybody -- that usually meant Peyton would sleep with him. Even if they had been fighting; even if they were broken up. Even if he had just been kissing some other girl or drinking alcohol out of her navel; it didn’t matter. Peyton found him and fucked him and things would go back to being normal. The truth was, Nathan liked Peyton. Some of the intensity of his love had faded and morphed into loathing, but at the core of him he did care about her. He had given up on cracking her shell and exposing any of her true self -- that was a task Nathan Scott just wasn’t up to.

Then there was his brother. Even in his mind he shuddered away from the word; they were not kin in any way that mattered. They were as complete opposites as could be -- their only similarity being some stupid skill at basketball. Nathan had it drilled into him that he was the best there was, but his grip was tenuous, so he would have to work hard constantly to maintain it. It infuriated him that some kid that had only ever played street ball for the last sixteen years was suddenly good enough -- no, as far as Whitey was concerned, at least as good as him, if not better -- to play on his team and take his spot on the line up and could he have had it any easier? Nathan wondered if Lucas imagined he had been dealt the shitty hand.

Of course, instead of trying to understand him or find common ground, Nathan snarled and growled and made it well known how he felt about the little bastard. Most of the team was behind him -- at least, the ones that mattered were. Still, Nathan was coming up with increasingly creative ways to torment the elder Scott. He hadn’t missed the looks that passed between Lucas and Peyton, and it rankled him more than a little. Not to deny that she usually avoided him and only spoke to him if he spoke to her first, it still bothered him that there was something else going on there that he just couldn’t pin down.

Brooke noticed it, too. It wasn’t the boy in particular that first caught her eye -- though she was always aware of any changes in their group, at least peripherally, like an instinct, it was something her mind kept track of without her realizing it -- it was the way Peyton reacted to him. The way he seemed drawn to the blonde like a magnet, mesmerized by her, and she fighting back in her usual catty, snotty way. Brooke observed the exchanges between the two, the loaded looks, the tense silences, and decided she just didn’t like it. Nathan never riled such a response in her friend, and Brooke felt comfortable with their relationship. It had been going on for so long.. But now here was this boy, this Lucas. He was a problem.

Brooke made the decision to handle it before Nathan could form any real plans to. It was a simple solution for her, really -- if she slept with him, Peyton never, ever would. Problem solved. Brooke was actually surprised and then intrigued when the lanky boy refused her; her naked-in-the-car trick was pretty much patented and copyrighted to her, and it had never failed before. It made her wonder if he was gay. But no, she could tell by the way he looked at Peyton.. he wanted her. Even worse, he liked her. It was more than Brooke could stand, really, to see him pay attention to Peyton in a way she wasn’t used to. It was like watching a wilted flower suddenly exposed to sunlight: she simply blossomed, though anyone other than Brooke would have been oblivious to it. To them, Peyton was still kicking and scratching. But she was full of life, now, whereas before it was nothing but monotony. It might have seemed small and petty, but Brooke preferred it when Peyton was like a robot, because her sparkle was usually reserved for moments between the two. She was jealous of Lucas for dragging the fire out of Peyton -- angry that Peyton would give him the time of day.

Peyton knew what Brooke was doing, but she assumed Brooke did it out of real attraction to Lucas, rather than any sort of snide attempt to foil their chemistry. It both pained and thrilled her, that Brooke would be so blind, but it was exciting to see Brooke actually challenged. Usually things happened so easily for her.. She never had to really try. It brought out a side of the girl Peyton hardly saw, and she definitely liked it.

Then there was Lucas: he just couldn’t take a hint. The kid had just kept at it, pushing and pushing, until he finally found a chink in her armor. Then he was like an enemy with the upper hand -- he seized control of that small weakness and attacked it for all it was worth. Did he know that her heart had nearly stopped when he had said, so flippantly, “your art matters, it’s what got me here”? It was almost as if he had chosen the perfect words to say, right from her soul. She had wanted him, in that instant. Wanted more from him than she had ever had from Nathan, wanted him in a way she had only ever wanted Brooke before.

It was like a lightning bolt, straight to her gut. To feel this way about anyone other than Brooke was invigorating, electric. To have hope -- finally -- that maybe she could have with someone what Brooke had so long denied her. It also terrified her: she didn’t know if she could take rejection, again. If she wanted more from Lucas than he could give, what then? Was she doomed to love him from afar, just as she was doomed with Brooke? For once she began letting go of lost dreams of love with Brooke, and began, tentatively, perilously, dangerously to build ones with Lucas. But she stayed with Nathan. She was still too ruled by fear to let go of that safety net, though she could sense that things were coming to a crux, and a decision would have to be made.

Nathan made the decision for her. He wrecked her car and tried to blame it on his brother -- it was the final straw. She broke up with him, he was angry and bitter and said hateful things. In the end it was both easier than she thought it would be and more painful, because Peyton knew it was an end to her stable, if unhappy, life. Now something different was bound to come, and she couldn’t begin to prepare herself against it.