"Tell her, Derek; tell her about your stupid Male Code!"
"Wait, that's why we're wrestling?"
Well why else would you be…
Oh.
"What Male Code?"
There are several ways you could go with this, and you know this is where the good friend bows out gracefully, but you're honestly kind of sick of being such a good friend all the time. Also, she's hot, really, seriously ridiculously hot; and she's a dancer and she probably still owns that Babe Raider outfit and that mental image is more than enough to be quite convincing all on its own.
"The one that says guys can't date their friends sisters; yeah, and step sibs count."
But Derek's your best friend and you're actually pretty sure there is something in the Male Code about stealing your best friend's girl, not that she even is his girl. Wait, is that even legal?
She lunges at him, but you're in perfect position to restrain her and Derek is still your best friend. If he does get ripped into little pieces, you don't want to watch. She's screaming, and wow, how exactly did you miss this? Clearly it isn't just him.
Are you really willing to be second best? You think of that little bit of toned skin that her shirt doesn't cover, and that costume, and those legs, and don't dancers have to be really flexible? The mindless, hormonal beast in the back of your head is jumping up and down and calling you all sorts of terribly mean names for even considering letting this opportunity pass. It has no understanding of words like 'right' and 'wrong' and 'self respect', but it knows all about flexible, and helpfully produces several scenarios in which said trait would be very useful. Second best is actually sounding pretty good right about now.
Just as you free yourself from that part of your brain and remember that you're a nice guy, and she's classy and dating her doesn't mean she won't hit you if you suggest the costume and –
Either you missed something, or the floor just attacked you.
"What is wrong with you?"
Wait, did she do that? Did she just throw you to the floor?
"I- I- I'm an idiot."
You really, really don't want to give up on this, but you don't miss the way he's looking at her.
You're best friend is looking at your prospective girlfriend in a way that can only be interpreted as 'I shall worship at your alter forever' and…
Oh.
He has actual feelings for her, he cares abouther. You care about her too, a lot, but she isn't the first, and you were never under the illusion that she would be the last. While Derek isn't exactly the heartless womanizer he has a reputation for being, you don't think he's ever actually had real feelings for a girl before. It makes sense, in some warped, vaguely disturbing way, that it would be her. He's met his match.
You can't mess this up for him, your stupid conscience won't allow it, even as the devil on your shoulder demands that you set your conscience on fire because she's even hotter when she's angry.
Derek's just lucky you don't have any matches.
"Go talk to Casey."
Is he serious? Does he really think you're that dense? Is he really that dense?
"I don't need your permission."
"Yeah, well, apparently you do."
Of course he is.
"Dude, I'm not gonna go for Casey."
"Really, man, it's cool. Just don't make out with her in front of me and it'll be fine."
He looks at you as if you're the one who just isn't getting it, and have to fight the urge to take him up on his offer, just out of spite.
"No, it's not cool. Whatever's going on here, I'm not getting in the middle of it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His voice is about an octave higher than it normally is; ruining his attempt at being casual and revealing that he knows exactly what you're talking about.
"Dude."
That's all it takes to convey that you know, but you fix him with a knowing look anyway, because it's fun to watch him squirm.
You want to continue with your chilling, knowing stare, but Derek looks like he's about to have a seizure, and you are forced to take pity.
"You know the klutzilla thing? You were there too."
He doesn't say anything for awhile, but you can see him trying and failing to suppress a pleased smile.
"Step sibs don't count."
You've gathered that, thank you.
"Clearly."
There's a moment of semi-awkward silence before
"You want to play some Babe Raider?"
You grab a controller.
"That even a question?"