Passenger's Seat- A Life with Derek FanFic

AN- I am in a Dasey fix, so enjoy! If you have any suggestions, let me know because I will take them!

Un-

I do believe that it was Derek's fault to begin with. He came home late from hockey practice with a nasty cough and worried my mom almost to death. He was a "trooper" as Edwin so calmly put it, and for the first time in half a decade Derek had an actual reason to be staying home from school that day. Or week, as I should say, because he prolonged his "sickness" that long. By the time he was well, everyone else in the house caught the sickness, including me.

George put it simply: we were in quarantine. So I was stuck in that house while Derek got to enjoy the spirit week that I helped to put together. I missed not only the biggest pep rally a cheerleader (like myself) could ever participate in, but also the dance I had been looking forward to since my relationship started with Max.

So when I was finally better, I went on the rampage. I needed to catch up with the five days of classes I missed, and all my friends were gone for fall break. So I was, once again, stuck with Derek.

He was mastering a new song in his room when I found him. He jumped when I walked in, and I was about to point out that I scared him when I realized that it was one of the first times I saw him with an actual smile on his face. Or was it just a hidden smirk?

"Sup Kleenex?" he said, setting his guitar on its holder and putting his headphones on his desk. His smirk emerged from that perfectly good smile and ruined the moment. "Did you miss the bathroom? Cause its two doors that way," he said, pointing his finger out the door, "and I can't stand for my room to be smelling like you."

"Oh yeah?" I said, sitting down and rubbing my butt all over his sheets. He shuddered, but other than that looked unfazed.

"Seriously though." He said, grabbing my arm and pulling me off his bed and adjusting the sheets back to their previous nature. I noticed how strong he was, and how rough his hands were against my skin. "What do you want?"

"Your notes. From all the classes last week." I said, crossing my arms. He laughed his signature full belly laugh and looked at me with a stern glance.

"You really think that I take notes?" he said, fixating his behind into his desk chair.

"Well, I would assume that's what you are writing when you are in class. Or is it," I said, picking up the picture of Marla, his new girlfriend, off his desk. "Was it a love note?"

Derek snatched the picture from my hand and put it in his desk drawer. He reached for his unopened backpack and pulled out a binder. "Lose it and die." He said, putting it safely in my hands.

"Why would I ever lose something of yours?" I said. He followed after me and slammed the door behind me.

I entered my room and got straight to work. I opened the binder to the section labeled English and looked through it. Yeah, it wasn't as neat as mine, and his had hockey plays written on the sides of the sheet, but his penmanship was something else. I always thought that he would have messy, ugly, scrawly, illegible handwriting, but it was clear and in a block style. I flew through English and onto many other classes till I got to the very last section. I pulled my sticky notes off the desk and onto my hand, so I could easily file them away.

The last section wasn't labeled, and I didn't think twice when I opened it. I caught my breath though. It was filled with some of the most beautiful poetry I had ever seen. It must have been the song he was working on when I entered. And he was only afraid because he didn't want me to find out about it.

But if he didn't want me to figure out about it than why did he give it to me? I didn't have time to think though, because Derek burst into my room. "Are you done yet?" he asked. He was all ready to go to hockey practice, and he looked different to me. Instead of seeing the lazy boy I was so used to seeing, I saw a man. I slammed the binder shut and handed it to him. I smiled a quick smile and breathed a thank you before I slammed the door. I leaned against the door and sighed. I looked down at my hand and realized my sticky notes were no longer on my hand. Panic filled my veins. I knew where they went: into Derek's binder.