A/N: This is a future fic (and a little AU, so some characters will be OoC), after Derek is out of college and Casey is trying for her PhD. This is 3rd-person limited, and it's limited to Derek. The first paragraph is a little graphic, but the rest of it should be fine. This story was inspired by the song "Here's to the Night" by Eve 6 (obviously) and I wrote the first half of it about a year ago. I've combed through it and tried to get rid of all the grammatical/spelling errors and such, so yeah.

Anyways. I hope you like it!
Shannon

Here's To The Nights
By: AngelOfMusic123

"Here's a toast to all
those who hear me all
too well."

-- "Here's To The Nights" by Eve 6

Skin burned like fire where her fingers danced across his body, sending him into an eternal bliss that was he was sure was to be the end of him. Lips met in heated passion, tongues dancing in a never-ending battle. As the last barrier was discarded he thrust himself into her, looking into her eyes, fearful she might just disappear at any given moment. She cried his name as he brought her to ecstasy, fingers digging into the skin of his back. He kissed her deeply to contain his moan of pleasure, loving every moment-

Beep, beep, beep!

Derek Venturi woke up, irritably smashing the button on the machine that had ruined his pleasure. "I'm suing whoever invented these blasted things," he mumbled as he lazily clambered out of bed, heading to the bathroom.

Peeling off his sweaty clothing, he climbed into the shower, letting the cold water drizzle out of the broken nozzle. Five minutes and few more complaints later, he was out and dressed for work, waiting on his toast to finish, erm, toasting. Yes, that's right. Derek had made it through college and had landed a (crappy) job. He'd made a promise (to Casey), and he was a man of his word. With the exception of business (his declared major – hmm... that can't be good), he was doing a pretty good (that's a bit of an overstatement, though) job.

His job consisted of working a desk for a completely pompous jerk who doesn't give a crap about anyone else in the world but himself. Typical behavior for the boss, but that doesn't mean that Derek doesn't hate him with a burning red passion. He was being paid just above minimum wage and his bimonthly paycheck was exactly how much it took for him to pay his bills and get some necessities. His apartment was a total shithole and he couldn't wait until he found a better-paying job to get out of it. The couch had cigarette burns on it and the ceiling was black and brown in places, undoubtedly from the cigarettes that had done the damage to the couch, which also had stuffing coming out of it. The bathroom toilette looked like it was sinking through the floor (that would be an awful way to die, don't you think?), the shower had caked-on mold (as did the curtain), and the sink had cracks all in it. The walls were irrevocably tarnished by unknown elements that Derek didn't even want to think about and, well... let's just say that his apartment was substandard living and a disgrace to boxes everywhere. He'd even tried cleaning once, but the chemicals had just ended up giving him a tremendous headache.

His landlord hates him and Derek's sure that he ups the bill whenever he's had a particularly pissy day. His boss hates him due to his being a pompous jerk. He hasn't spoken to anyone from his hometown in years, and he's completely sure that everyone at home hates his guts. Any feelings of adequacy had been squelched by his college professors and his father. Thanks, guys.

To put it bluntly, and from the man himself: Derek Venturi's life sucked.

Taking a bite off of the charred toast (mm, yummy) – plain, for he had run out of jelly weeks ago and hadn't had the time nor the money to get more – and continuing to shove the rest in his mouth, he grimaced and began to make sure he had everything for work.

He was now twenty-four years old. His plans to become a professional hockey player had been squished by his father when he'd said this: "You're going to college, you're going study business, and you're going drop hockey until you are intelligent in the eyes of your professors! And until I hear word that this has been accomplished, you will not receive any sum of money from myself or Nora to help support you, got it?"

Yeah, he and his father weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. Were he to have some "chillax" time (yeah, right; more like "Hey, Derek, let's go stress out about the fact that you're not good enough!"), Derek still wouldn't take the time to call him. Their relationship had been on a downward spiral ever since Abby's departure, which Derek claimed was George's fault. Derek and Abby had always gotten along well – not in the mother-son way, but like acquaintances, they were friendly with one another. So when she left, Derek got in a fight with his father, saying that if he hadn't chased his mom away in the first place (Abby wasn't his biological mother, and his real mom's name is irrelevant; just know that Derek loved her very much and the divorce was a very nasty one that left a bitter taste in even the deceased cat's mouth), then they wouldn't even have to go through this.

When Nora, Casey, and Lizzie had moved in, Derek didn't think anything of it – other than the fact that they were all pretty decent looking gals - for he knew that Nora was just another notch on George's bedpost, and would soon move out.

Boy, was he wrong.

A week after they'd moved in, Derek had taken a liking to bugging the eldest , Casey. This, aside from hockey, was his only way to take out his anger at his father. (He couldn't very well risk another fight with him so soon, George was likely to throw him out and change the locks.) Soon, Derek found he had a sort of... infatuation with Casey. Figuring it was just hormones, he just took it out on the other girls who managed to make it to his room.

Two weeks after they'd moved in, Derek knew that his father wasn't making them leave anytime soon, so he found himself feeling something for Casey, the feisty girl who wouldn't take any of the crap he threw at her (please do not take that literally... ew). He shoved it off as, once again, hormones, but this time taking it out on the object of his affections herself. Stealing little touches here, little subtle hints there... He quite liked seeing her reactions to his antics, causing him to do it all the more.

A month after they'd moved in, Derek noticed that Casey's reactions had gotten more passionate. He liked that. He liked her. But enough of that. Let's get back to his current predicament: his lost briefcase.

Noticing that he was missing his very vital briefcase, he became frantic. Okay, Derek, don't panic. The key is to not panic. Where did you put it last? Think, man! Think!

Dumping the contents of his bag (just in case... you never know where things might turn up) on the coffee table, which creaked when anything was placed upon it, he began opening anything and everything, searching for the object that could determine whether or not he gets to keep his job. Not finding it there, he racked his brain for where all he'd been the previous night. Oh, yeah. I was here - all night – organizing so my boss wouldn't hassle me about it!! Argh! Then, like a light coming on in his head, he rushed to his very small bedroom – which was about one or two strides from the living room (come to think of it, everything was about two strides apart). - and looked on his desk beside his laptop.

Ah, his precious (I say "precious" because of the fact that it's really cool technology and is worth more than the shithole apartment in which he currently resides) laptop - the only thing that his father had provided him with before he left for college. It had been quite the awkward moment when he'd given it to him: George had hesitantly handed him the medium-sized box and shrugged slightly, saying, "Here. It's the only thing you're getting – don't get your hopes up."

So sweet. Don'tcha just wanna pinch his cheeks?

"Yes!" Derek shouted as he gave a jump for joy at the sight of his relatively shiny-looking briefcase, which was residing at the foot of his bed (the desk and bed were so close that they almost meshed into one unit). Hearing a banging on the wall and a hateful curse word aimed towards him, Derek quickly told his cranky neighbor to put it where the sun don't shine and went back into the not-so-qualified-to-be-called-this-but-I'll-call-it-this-anyway-for-sanity's-sake living room. Straightening everything back up, he slipped on his jacket, slid his laptop into his bag, and left the shitho- erm, building. Glancing at his watch briefly, he quickened his pace, realizing that he would be late if he didn't hurry.

Oh – did I forget to mention? He also doesn't have a car. Hence the walking.

Derek had long since come to terms with the fact that his father didn't love him (even though he said otherwise in the presence of others) and, frankly, he didn't care. Not one bit. He doesn't need his father, he's survived this long, hasn't he? It's been over five years now, and he's seen neither hide nor hair of his father since he left the house.

Yeah... George also hadn't bothered to take Derek to the airport to see him off to college. But I'm guessing you very intelligent readers have already (by your own deductive reasoning, I'm sure) figured this out. Nora had to make up the excuse that he was busy working on a very hard case and Derek had told her not to bother, that he knew his father just didn't want to take him, and that he was just fine with that.

...kind of.

Well, screw him, Derek thought as he entered the building where he works and sat down at his desk. If he doesn't want to be in my life, then I don't want to be in his.