(d e r e k POV)

You have this unhealthy obsession, like, love, thing for someone close to you.

Your stepsister actually.

See?

How unhealthy is that?

Not only do you like (l-l-lo-lov…) her, but also you cannot (will not) say anything about it.

So instead, you make it worse.

Because you're Derek Venturi and for as lazy as you are, you have never been able to make things easier.

So when you get to college, you go out with tons of girls.

All of which have, at the very least, one thing in common with Casey MacDonald.

First, there was Lily.

You met her at orientation, and she had this deep chocolate hair that fell to her mid-back in natural waves and smelled like espresso. You grinned at her from across the room and used that infamous Venturi charm to get her to go out on a date with you. She would laugh (and dude, it was an annoying laugh) when you'd bury your face in her hair and just breathe, but you wouldn't smile back because she'd probably be crying or hitting you if she knew that the only reason you did that was because Casey's hair smelled the same way.

She didn't last long, only a couple weeks, and the majority of them were spent looking at her hair (and smelling it too, although that makes you sound like a creeper). It ended though because one morning, you woke up and saw her smiling at you, which would have been totally okay.

Except you looked her directly in the eyes. And they weren't blue at all, let alone that perfect shade of crystal blue.

You fled the room like hellhounds were chasing you (and with only one shoe on) and ignored her calls for the next three weeks until she gave up.

Two weeks after that, you started going out with this chick named Anna.

She was a writing major and loved to act. She volunteered at the drama club, but you never ever went there to pick her up for a date, because it was the same club that Casey was in. She only lasted a week because your (irrational) hatred of her blonde hair and green eyes steadily grew stronger, as did your dislike of the way she never returned your banter (seriously, the girl didn't know what sarcasm even was).

You dumped her over text and didn't even pretend to feel bad about it.

A few days after that, you ran into a girl named Katie Collins who went by K.C.

Is more explanation really necessary?

You only dated her for three days because not only was she nothing like the real Casey, you found the way she spelled her (imposter and totally not right at all) name annoying.

About three minutes after breaking up with K.C., you met a girl who went by Eliza but was really named Elizabeth. Not only was she majoring in writing, but she also had brown hair (not long enough but whatever) and blue eyes (not light blue but whatever). Her hair didn't smell like warm coffee and her eyes didn't shine like blue crystals, but she lasted three months.

She was close enough (or at least as close as you were gonna get).

But then, she ran into Casey one day in the dining hall. You spent about four minutes and twenty-three seconds listening to her talk about this amazing girl she had met at lunch. They had the same major and they lived only a floor apart and this girl was the coolest. So you asked what her name was because you were trying to not fall asleep at how boring you found this chick Eliza and you thought asking a question might help you stay conscious.

And she said Casey MacDonald.

And you said I don't want to date you anymore.

After that was Vanessa (who had okay blue eyes and almost the right shade of brunette hair) and Karen (who said your name De-rek when you pissed her off) and Emma (who studied way too hard and barely left the library) and Julie (who wore cinnamon lotion and vanilla body wash and smelled way too much like Casey) and you ended freshmen year with Paige (who danced gracefully and still tripped over air whenever she got around you).

Your freshmen year was over.

And you had spent it with a blur of faceless girls, all of them not enough and too much at the same time.

You talked to Casey no more than four times the entire year.

You thought that maybe, just maybe, staying away from her would help. You wouldn't like as much if you didn't see her everyday. You wouldn't care about her if you didn't talk to her and you could finally get over this weird obsession (you still can't say l-l-lov…) and everything would be okay.

But that isn't what happened.

Instead, you fell more in like with her every time you dumped another not-enough girl. You thought about her when you studied and you wished she was at your hockey games to cheer you on and you missed fighting with her over the remote.

You barely talked to Sam or Emily or Ralph all year because they reminded you too much of her.

But then it was summer.

And you can't avoid her anymore.

"De-rek," she screams from the bottom of the stairs (it may be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard) as she glares at you, "you were supposed to give me a ride home! You jerk! You were coming here anyways, what the hell is your problem?"

You grin at her.

"Hey Space-Case. Miss me that much?" and oh dear lord it feels good.

What's that saying? You don't know what you got till it's gone? Well. You know now. And you aren't letting go of Casey ever again.

You glance around the house and notice that everyone is gone (missing, ducking for cover, same difference) and so you run down the stairs, ignore her shrieking, and press your lips against hers.

You have never before described your mood as blissful (because that's weird and kinda gay, and, actually, it's something Sheldon would say) but right now, right now you are content to say that you feel fucking blissful.

Vanilla and cinnamon and coffee fill up your nose and your lips smile against hers. Your body is so close to hers that you can feel those (gorgeous) dancer legs and when you pull back, all you can see are her crystalline blue eyes and chestnut brown hair.

And man, you may have surpassed blissful.

Then she's pulling away from you with questions written all over her face.

You don't really feel like answering them though.

So every time she opens here mouth, you kiss her.

The two of you stumble up the stairs laughing and breathless, still kissing every time you think she's about to ask a question. You back up into your room, the hand that somehow became intertwined with hers pulling her after you.

"Dere-" kiss.

"I really think th-" kiss.

"Come o-" kiss.

"Will you at leas-" kiss.

"De-rek!" she finally screams, pressing her hand over your mouth so you can't kiss her again.

You pout at her and then grin when she giggles.

"Ca -sey," you mock after pulling her hand away from your face. "Look. I've liked you for a while, all right? And I'm done with trying to hide it or stop feeling the way that I do. Especially since you kissed me back. Which was totally awesome by the way. Can we get back to that already?" you try to pull her towards you again, but she slams her hands into your chest and leans back so you can't reach her lips.

"But, you dated like a billion and ten girls last year. And what will mom and George say? And just because we kissed once, doesn't mean we are now going to kiss all the time!" she retorted, using her stern voice when speaking the last sentence.

And then she kisses you, which totally disproves her point, but you aren't complaining (and you won't tease her for it either, just this one time).

You smirk at her when she pulls back and try to think of a way to explain all the girls without pissing her off because then the kissing would stop and that's no good. That's no good at all.

"So, don't take this offensively okay? Because I finally got up the courage to kiss you, and I don't want the enjoyment to end too soon. But all the girls… they were just an attempt to forget my feelings for you. And I dumped them pretty much as fast as I started dating them because they weren't you. They weren't even close." Her eyes glisten while you talk (and fuck yes they're such a pretty blue) and as soon as the last word is out of your mouth, she's pressing kisses all over your face, finally locking on to your lips before the two of you fall backwards onto your bed.

You shift your weight so that you aren't crushing her but she pulls you back and you grin into her mouth.

What follows are, quite easily, the best moments of you life.

You will never forget the taste of her skin (which is surprisingly more vanilla than cinnamon, even though she smells more like cinnamon than vanilla) or the feel of her long hair sliding through your fingers (and your addiction to coffee definitely just got a lot stronger). You'll always remember how her eyes glowed when you slid off her jeans (and thank you lord for those absolutely magnificent dancer legs) and the way she muffled her screams with your neck (and every time she moaned, she made sure that her lips were tightly pressed up against yours).

It was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to you.

There is no doubt in your mind about that.

Afterwards, the two of you are just lying there and your running your fingers through her hair (and seriously, how does she get it so freaking soft?). You clear your throat after an endless amount of time and finally say something.

"As for dad and Nora, they'll get over it. We just won't tell them for a while. I'll tell Marti, of course, and I imagine you'll tell Lizzie so we should probably let Edwin know as well. If we're nice, they'll probably help us sneak out for dates too." You muse, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully while her hand draws patterns on your bare chest.

Her hand stills.

"Dates?" she asks, her voice doing that weird high-pitched and squeaky thing that it did the first time she went out with Sam.

"Well yeah," you say in your no shit voice, "why wouldn't I take out my girlfriend on dates?"

"Girlfriend?" and somehow, her voice has gotten even higher. She refuses to lift her head from your chest, so you shimmy down and put your forehead up against hers, both of your heads lying flat against your bed.

"Oh did I skip that part?" you laugh, "silly me. Casey MacDonald, will you be my girlfriend. Pretty please with sugar on top?" Your voice was teasing but you were smiling (in that actually happy way) and she grinned back at you, sliding her arms around your neck.

"Well. If I must," she giggled, sighing dramatically into your mouth as she presses another kiss to your lips.

As she wraps her legs around your waist and runs her fingers through your hair, some switch flicks in your brain and you can definitely do this (you can say it now, without the stutter, you know you can).

"Case," you whisper, pulling back no more than a centimeter from her lips and not untwining any of your other limbs from hers. "I'm pretty sure I love you. Just thought I should let you know."

She stares at you for a second, her (wonderful) blue eyes wide with surprise. But then her expression gentles and she pulls you into a soft kiss, murmuring "I love you too, so you better not screw this up Derek Venturi," directly onto your lips and then tightening the grip her thighs have on your hips and making you forget how to speak, let alone whatever retort you were going to make.

You were wrong before (but whatever, there was a hot naked girl kissing you, no one needs to know that you were wrong one time).

This was blissful.

It was amazing and perfect and so spectacular that you weren't even going to fake annoyance at all the chick flick moments you had been through tonight.

You got the girl (and now if you're obsessive, it isn't unhealthy, it's loving).

So what else matters?

Soo. Hope you guys liked it.

And please review.

Yep.

That's pretty much all.