A/N: Pre-Dasey, if that makes you guys feel any better ; )
Disclaimer: In case it wasn't glaringly obvious, I don't own Life With Derek.
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"Friends"
By VirgoMaiden
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If anyone had told her about two years ago that the son of the man that her mother had married – also known as Derek "Bane-of-my-life" Venturi – and she would become friends, she would have told them to get their head checked in a not-too-nice way.
So it's no surprise that She doesn't even notice it happening, not at first. It's gradual. Comfortable, almost. She starts hanging out with him, playing games (or trying to, at least – she has no idea what's going on) and watching bad game shows with him by choice. Asking him how practice was, who's the flavor of the week, and has he seen Marti? Because dinner will be ready soon, and she would really like not having to crawl into the abandoned dog house in their back yard like last time.
And then, it hits her like a runaway piano. She's in the middle of asking him his opinion about her dress that she's going to wear to the Sports Awards Assembly, and it suddenly occurs to her what she is doing, and she then stands in front of him in her new knee-length dress, her mouth slightly open like a fish.
And the question is, since when did she care what Derek thought of her and her fashion choices? Since when did she actually go to his room and stand in front of him and start to ask what he thought of her? Since…well…
And that's just the problem: she can't remember when it started. Was it after he had clued her in about Scott? Or when he had helped her with the "Klutzilla" and "Grade Grubber" incidents at school? Or when he had let her date Sam, his best friend?
No, it wasn't. Or at least, she doesn't think so.
Derek is staring at her, waiting for her to talk, but she's still standing there, looking scandalized.
"I…ahm…never mind," she says quickly. Then she runs from his room to hers, slamming her door shut.
She stands against it, her heart beating erratically, her mind still racing.
She's not supposed to be friends with him. She's not supposed to laugh at his jokes, or watch bad game shows with him. She's not supposed to ask about his life, or understand about hockey. She's not supposed to be his friend.
And this makes her really, really scared, because a small part of her wants to.
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The TV is on in the living room at 12:30 that night. It casts an eerie glow on her, staring intently, knees pulled up to her chest. It's almost like she's asking it for answers.
And she might get them! She isn't giving up hope just yet. Maybe the late night talk shows will have something to say about it.
She is so focused on this show that she doesn't hear the creak of stairs, doesn't hear the sound of him settling on the sofa, doesn't see his faint profile; doesn't realize that she is no longer alone. She doesn't realize this until he speaks.
"How is Doctor Phil appealing at this hour?" he asks, and she jumps, startled from her twisted sense of reverie.
"Nothing…nothing, really," she stutters. "I'm just – just bored, you know?" She laughs nervously, and he gives her an odd, contemplating look. But instead of shrugging it off, he leans forward slowly. Her heart rate speeds up again.
"Uh huh." He gives her a disbelieving look. "Casey…" he says slowly, "when you're bored, you read. Or do some crossword puzzle. Or something to do with intellect. Not junk TV."
She gives him an astonishing look. "What..?" he asks suspiciously.
"Nothing!" she says, trying not to act the way that she's feeling. (although he can probably read her like a book at "this point" in their relationship. "I'm just surprised that you know the meaning of intellect!"
Derek raises an eyebrow at her. "I haven't heard that one in a while," he says stoically. "It's been what, five months since you've insulted me into oblivion?"
"Oh," she says quietly, genuinely sorry. "I… I –''
"Didn't know?" he quips. "You've been out of it all afternoon. Ever since you asked me about the dress."
"Have I?" she asks, clearly distracted. Half of her attention on the TV, half on him. It should be easy enough, avoiding him. But he's not letting her…
"Casey!" he says sharply. She jerks her head to face him.
"Wha -? Oh! Sorry, Der – Derek," she said, stressing the use of his full name.
It's quiet for a few minutes after that, Casey determinedly looking away from the TV. Then, he begins to speak in a low voice.
"Why are you so afraid?"
"What?"
"You heard me: Why are you so afraid of me? What are afraid of?"
She looks down into her lap, her hands clasping and unclasping.
"Change," she says quietly; so quietly, that he has to strain to hear it. "I'm afraid of becoming your friend. It's not supposed to be like this! I'm supposed to hate you. You're supposed to hate me."
"Why?" he asks suddenly. "Why am I supposed to hate you? Am I that much of a 'bad guy'?"
"No…" she says quietly, and was surprised to find that she meant it. "It's just… Scary. It feels like I'm doing what I'm not supposed to. Because, remember when we first moved in? We were constantly at each other's throats. And it's just…weird for me to not go back to that, because it was so easy, you know? And now I'm almost..afraid…that if I screw this up, I'll lose a really, really good friend."
It seems that Derek's finally gotten the answer that he wants, and he smirks. "I'm a good friend now, Case?" he asks. "I'm touched, really. Do we get to do each other's nails now?"
She groans and slumps back into the couch, now staring at the ceiling and noticing the strange light that the TV is bathing it in. "Typical," she snorts. "I try to be serious and here you are, making fun of a nice way to bond."
"No thanks," he snorts. "And you think that this is easier for me?" he asks. "Dream on, princess. This is about as easy as being 'just friends' with one of my exes."
"Nice to know that I'm now considered a 'blonde bombshell'," she retorts evenly.
He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."
She's quiet again, because she does understand, and she finally speaks again: "This relationship is beyond dysfunctional."
"You think?" he shoots back.
"More than you do," she says automatically, and Derek cracks a smile.
"Do you really think that this relationship would end up working out?" she asks tentativly.
"You make it sound like I'm asking you out," he said, laughing.
She blushes. "As if," she retorts. "Unlike most of your exes, I have taste."
"Which explains why you dated Max."
"I'm with Noel now, aren't I?"
"Does it sound like I'm praising you for your choice in wimpy guys?"
"Yes," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes in his direction, "because I need to date a manly-man, just like you."
"Someone has to make sure that you don't have a break down."
"I think that you going into Paul's office was enough, thanks."
"What I can't believe is that you haven't completely traumatized him yet."
She sticks her tongue out at him, but she laughs, and the hostile atmosphere is broken.
He stands up, stretches, and looks at the clock. "While I'm no Boy Scout, I think that you should seriously start thinking of going to bed," he says.
She stands up and turns off the TV, yawning. "Good idea."
"Hey."
His voice stops her from going up the stairs.
"Yeah?" she asks, looking down at him.
"Does this mean that we're cool now, or are you going to be up again tomorrow night?" he asks.
She smiles. "Don't worry, stud; I'm fine."
"So we're friends?"
Her smile grows wider. "Yeah."
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A/N: This took me a long time to write. I finally dusted this off today, fixed the tense problems, and finished it up. I guess you'll notice that the mood starts to change around the middle, so. I hope you enjoyed. : )
VM