Those Things We Say
Disclaimer: Don't own Life with Derek. But I wish I owned Michael Seater.
Summary: "I just wanted to say...I um, thanks." If anything, his smirk only grew wider.
Yeah, yeah. I just couldn't help myself. A companion fic to "Those Things We Do" It's not totally necessary to read that, but it could be a good idea. Anyways, enjoy.
Suffice to say, Casey never really knew how to react when Derek hit her up with his random odd moments of kindness. As much as she appreciated it, the girl knew he'd never take simple thank you without any repercussion. And that smirk just made her want to take it back anyways.
There was the locker and cell phone, (although she'd had to work for him, an experience she never wanted to repeat), the summer camp fiasco with Marti (so he'd get out of summer school) and the employment incident at Smelly Nellie's (but he'd ended up being promoted there, so...)
Actually, when Casey thought about it, Derek almost never did anything unless he benefited. Except for the soccer coach...debacle. She'd owed him for that one. But...what about Max?
What about the way he'd so chivalrously saved her from her cheating ex-boyfriend? And on game night, no less. His fury had been so complete; Casey was surprised that Derek had restrained himself to only one hit. And last but not least, the eldest MacDonald took a moment to consider the situation from the memory of his arms.
Derek's scent was a unique combination of soap, aftershave, and a hint of cologne. She'd felt very...safe enclosed in the circle of his grip, which, in all irony, was an unsettling feeling. Casey wasn't supposed to feel safe in the arms of her practically hated step-brother. It should've been...awkward. But it wasn't. That was the scariest thing.
It had been almost two weeks since the confrontation, and for the first few days the eldest Venturi and MacDonald treaded eggshells around each other. The boundary line of their predefined annoy-hate relationship had been well beyond crossed, and neither had been sure how to get back.
They were back now, but it wasn't to say that the arguments were somewhat less fierce, the pranks less over-the-top, and the entire dynamic of their explosive relationship just the slightest bit softer. No one said actions didn't have consequences.
--
"The dryer's what?!"
The instant response to Casey's exclamation was the stampede of two sets of feet down the stairs. "Everything okay?" asked Edwin.
"We heard Casey scream." Lizzie clarified. Nora raised her eyebrows at their on-point synchronisation, while the aforementioned teen shrieked. "Everything is not okay! The dryer is broken, and all my clothes are still wet!"
There she stood in the biggest, fluffiest towel in the house, fuming. Casey stormed up the stairs, undergarments in hand, past Derek, at whom the teen pointed a furious finger.
"Not. A. Word."
The boy raised his eyebrows, but silently continued his descent, smirking. Casey let her bedroom door slam dramatically, and sat down on her bed in a huff. A few moments later Derek's deep, ringing laughter sounded from the laundry room, and her ears burned in response. His throaty chuckle continued back up the stairs, where it reverberated through the wall separating their rooms.
"Argh!" Casey muffled her scream into a pillow, almost missing the "tap, tap, tap" on her bedroom door. "What?"
"Special delivery for Space Case." She could practically hear his smirk. Carefully securing her towel, Casey threw her door open. "What do you want Derek?"
Carefully ignoring the ill-contained laughter, she settled her eyes on what Derek had in his arms: a pair of pyjama bottoms and that orangutan t-shirt. "What's this?"
Her step-brother rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Dad's orders."
Although the look in his eyes told her otherwise, Casey went with it. "Well...tell him thanks then." And with a mock salute, he was gone.
Closing the door with a click, she studied what Derek had presented her with. It was like a déjà-vu, of the time he'd stolen all her clothes and she'd had to wear his. To school. Except this time, she wasn't mad at him. So, with a sharp exhale, Casey pulled them on.
His scent was almost overpowering. The girl had to resist the urge to inhale deeply, running a towel through her tousled hair. The ding-dong of the doorbell sounded throughout the house, followed by the quirky voice of Marti, calling "I got it!"
Casey traipsed down the stairs, heading to the kitchen before catching her step-sister's frightful squeak. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."
"C'mon Marti, we're friends aren't we?"
Her blood froze. Casey found herself quite unable to take the last three steps to safety, paralyzed by the sound of her ex-boyfriend.
"Smerek!"
And several long seconds later; "Geez Smarti, where's the fire?" Derek's smile, the true one reserved only for his younger sister, vanished along with the thud from his jump down the stairs.
"You have three seconds to get away from my front door before I remove you." Casey tried to ignore the cold shiver spiking down her spine without success. Derek's voice shook with barely contained anger as he glared down Max. The other boy's jaw was tight.
"I need to see Casey."
"Three." Derek had his hand on the doorframe.
"Smerek?" Marti sounded afraid. The brunette didn't avert his eyes. "Smarti, go to your room."
"Okay." And off she went. If only everyone was that compliant.
"Two."
Max had finally caught sight of her. He tried to move past Derek, tried to step into the house. "Casey, I—"
One. The Venturi grabbed the football captain by the collar and shoved him hard against the open door. "Back off." Derek snarled. "You got your sorry ass dumped. It's your fault, you deserved it, and if you ever go near her again, so help me God I will break more than just your nose."
Casey trembled as Max looked at her. He snorted. "Looks like she's already moved on."
Derek shoved him again. "Anyone's better than you." Max swore as he was thrown off the step, and the door closed with a slam. The noise drew the attention of the rest of the Venturi-MacDonald clan.
"What was that?" George demanded, looking between the two teens. Casey opened her mouth to speak, but nothing was forthcoming. "Derek?"
"Nothing." The boy replied, words clipped. "Wrong house."
George and Nora exchanged glances, as did their younger children. Edwin and Lizzie knew. But it wasn't for them to tell.
"Case! Hurry up!"
Casey scrambled down the stairs the next day, once again in Derek's clothes, for the drive to school. To their surprise, no one looked very shocked. Emily raised her eyebrows, but accepted "The dryer broke" without question. Sam just laughed, and Noel shook his head, saying nothing. Nothing, other than "Do you want to go out some time?"
-
"I can't believe you're going out with Noel." Derek voiced his disbelief freely that evening, as both teens sat in the Prince after school. Casey glared at him.
"What's wrong with Noel? He's a sweet guy."
"They're usually the worst." Derek muttered under his breath. Casey's glare grew fierce. "What was that?"
The boy sighed. "Just...be careful okay?"
"What are you, my father?" Her cheeks were flushed in anger. She couldn't believe him. "I can take care of myself, you know."
Tearing his eyes from the road, Derek laced his words with ice. "Yeah, you certainly made that perfectly clear with your last boyfriend."
The hurt he tried to ignore was quickly replaced with panic. "DEREK!"
Casey screamed as the horn of an oncoming car blasted at them. Derek swerved, throwing her sideways. They skidded, coming to a stop on the side of the road. Casey's heart thundered in her ears, blood roaring. She looked sideways at her step-brother, whose face was chalk-white and matched with his knuckles, still clutching the steering wheel.
"Case? You okay?" Derek reached out and put his hand over hers, which was gripping the seat like a life preserver. He squeezed and she returned the pressure. Inhale, exhale. Breathe. Breathe.
"Yes," was all she managed to get out. They sat there for a while longer, until Casey heard Derek let out a long, slow breath, and the Prince hummed to life once again.
-
After explaining to their parents that "some idiot nearly hit us" and assuring them they were fine, Casey and Derek retreated to their bedrooms without a word to each other. It was going to be a long night.
It's the dream. Max is all over her, trying to undress her, and Casey's screams go unheard. It's hot, sweaty, and all she wants is for someone to save her. Because anything was better than this. But when Max disappears at last and she sits up, Casey sees not Derek, but the flash of headlights. And she hears not his voice, but the screaming horn of the car—
Casey shot up, barely stifling her scream in the dark. She was drenched in a cold sweat, the sheets twisted around her. Her heartbeat was erratic, painful, and oxygen refused to circulate. Casey gasped for air gripping the blanket in her fists. At last the final webs of the nightmare faded, and she was able to breathe again.
But perhaps the dream still had a grip, maybe Casey was delusional, crazy, because next thing she knew, she was knocking on Derek's bedroom door. A minute later it swung open, revealing a bleary-eyed Derek, clad in only his boxers.
"Casey?" he peered at her, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"
"D-Derek?" It took her a moment to realize she had tears in her eyes. She tried to hold them back. He hated tears. She watched as his eyes grew wide ad he ushered her inside.
"Geez, Casey, what's the matter?"
She knew she couldn't reply without bursting into tears, so she didn't. Derek scrutinized her collapsing composure before something dawned in his eyes. "Oh Case..."
"I-I thought we—"
"Wait a sec." He reached out and guided her to his bed, sitting her down and turning her to face him. "You're okay. We're okay." Derek sighed as he glanced at the floor. "I didn't mean what I said before."
Casey sucked in a breath. "B-but you were right."
His mouth fell open, and after a beat of silence, reached out and pressed his palm against her forehead. "You feel alright?"
She swatted his hand away. "I'm serious, Derek. I-if you hadn't show up that night..."
"Hey." Derek's voice was firm, but gentle. "Don't talk like that."
"I was s-so scared..." A tiny sob escaped her, and Derek squeezed her shoulder.
"Me too."
Everything happened at once. The floodgates burst open, he pulled her close, and all of a sudden they had pulled a déjà-vu. Ten minutes later, Derek stared at his dark ceiling, listening to the light breathing of his step-sister, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, curled into his side.
"Case?" he breathed, ever so careful. She didn't stir, and Derek exhaled. Since when did he resort to talking to the dark?
"I think...I think I love you."
The shadows gave no reply to this revelation, although the weight they'd given seemed to lessen all the same. Derek sighed, and ran his fingers through Casey's ponytail. There. He'd admitted it. Wasn't acceptance the first step to recovery? Or...something like that. Pretty soon sleep was too enticing to resist, and the Venturi fell in, cradling the girl of his dreams.
--
The next morning was...awkward, to say the least. When Casey awoke Derek was gone, but she wasn't sure what she'd say to him anyway. She slipped out of his room carefully, because God only knew what their family would say if they ever found out. The teens somehow managed to avoid each other all morning, up until they nearly collided going downstairs for breakfast.
"Easy there, Spacey." Derek's signature smirk seemed to be making up for its' prolonged absence. Casey rolled her eyes, more out of habit than anything else, and gathered her courage.
"Derek?"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Hmm?"
"I-I just wanted to say...I um, thanks." If anything, his smirk only grew wider. And then, before Casey could react, Derek leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead.
"Don't mention it."
She blinked, and he vanished down the stairs. Leaving Casey staring at his back, and trying to ignore the tingling feeling of her skin.
Author's Note: A smidge of Dasey fluff for you. Sorry if it rambles, I just couldn't get it right completely. So...yeah.
Please review!
Annie