A/N: This is a future fic and a bit AU. Casey's fresh out of college and Derek the military at the beginning of the chapter. And the rest you'll figure out as the story progresses (all questions should be answered later).
This is my first attempt at Dasey, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated :).
She remembered the sloppy letters and rushed emails he sent her years ago: two stories, a porch, a lake. He'd buy it and stay there in peace until the evaluation was over. It wasn't completely finished, but he'd fix it; work on the fences and painting, chopping wood, learning all the things that outdoorsy people did, like hunting and fishing and hiking. It was foolish, but charming.
Now she stood before the cabin--a moody, motionless box on a hill of dirt and dying dogwoods--and it made her heart and her stomach hurt.
She paused on a creaky step, sighed, and skipped over a splintering one, before reaching the top of the struggling porch and tapping her fist weakly to the door.
He didn't answer, but she didn't wait, and she couldn't help but feel the faint tug of déjà vu as she intruded into his cabin, into his space.
It was stale. And boring. And surprisingly clean, she noted, as her heels clicked dully on the hardwood floor. The front room was empty save for his stubborn, immortal recliner and an absurdly large flat screen. She rolled her eyes, but it drew her; and soon her fingers traced lightly over the worn, aching fabric of the chair.
She murmured, "Everyone thinks you're going crazy. That this is some sort of 'episode' or something."
The creaking behind her stopped and she turned calmly, eyes catching him.
"Well, what do you think?"
"I'm still deciding."
"Yeah; me, too."
Derek's lips tilted, a half-assed smirk, and she felt suddenly homesick. For…something. If it was him, she was disappointed, because this wasn't him. The infuriating, cunning eyes were now a wary, muted brown. The impish, dimpling face was rough and bearded, hiding. Even his lanky limbs had hardened into something lean and foreign. And the knee brace brought a shadow of weakness she'd never associated with him before.
"You didn't have to come here," he said.
"Well, it was either this or the real world, right?" her smile was wistful, "I'm just glad you're back and okay."
"Yeah," he whispered.
It was silent for a moment as Casey watched him and Derek shifted awkwardly. "Can I hug you?" she asked.
"Um, I don't-"
Casey sighed and hurried to him, arms wrapping tightly, protectively around him and cutting him off.
"You're tense," she said into his neck.
"Sorry," His hands twitched tightly at his sides, "I'm not used to being touched like this."
"Sorry."
"It's okay."
But, he pulled from her and Casey reluctantly stepped back.
"I'll show you your room."
--
"You're here; right next to me."
"What, are you going to tuck me in at night?"
Her brow arched and she was surprised to see Derek's cheeks pink under the forest of face. He ducked his head.
"Might be the only way to get you in there without injuring yourself."
"Cute."
Her attention moved to the sparsely decorated room, and Derek's stayed on her as he leaned in the doorway.
She looked trendy. He didn't completely comprehend what made a girl "trendy," but he recognized it when he saw it. Her once long, dark hair was now sunkissed and chopped right above her shoulders, her forehead draped with bangs. She was thin and tan, so much so that there were freckles escaping around her nose and cheeks. And, she walked with more confidence and maturity than he was used to.
"You look good."
Casey's eyes widened as she turned from the closet she'd been inspecting. After a few beats, she quipped. "I'd say you looked good, too, but I'd be lying." She gestured to the scruff on his face. "You look like Teen Wolf."
Derek rubbed his beard, reflective, but not self-conscious. "In my troop we always had to be clean shaven. So a bunch of us made a pact to grow it out as much as we could when we left."
She nodded. "And you're all going along with it?"
His eyes flickered, darkening, before cooling again. "Everyone that made it, yeah."
"I'm sorry. That was stupid-"
"No, no, it's fine," Derek swallowed uncomfortably, but continued, "Nigel says it's good to talk about it."
"Nigel?"
"My shrink."
--
"Can I get you anything?"
Casey shrugged, eyes still surveying as she followed him into the cramped kitchen quarters. "What do you have?"
"A bunch of stuff. I went to the grocery store and I…" he paused, looking sheepish, "I couldn't remember what you're supposed to get, so I got everything."
"Can you even cook?"
He shook his head and her lips quirked gently for him.
"Sit down; I'll make you something."
"Thank you," he said and sat patiently on a stool
Casey froze and flashed him an incredulous look. "You're abruptly polite."
"I'm trying to be more sincere."
"Nigel?"
He nodded and looked annoyed; and Casey smiled again before opening the fridge.
--
Derek watched, bemused, as Casey took over the kitchen, strategy shining in her features as she moved from cabinet to fridge to stove and back again.
"I feel like I should be helping," Derek said.
"And, yet there you are, sitting on your ass."
His back straightened, but when he caught the teasing glance she sent him over her shoulder, he relaxed. "The meals were always prepared for us on the field. I know more about assembling guns than ovens."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
She exhaled, blowing harried bangs from her face and plopping on a chair across from him. Derek's gaze fell to her left hand, where her fingers tapped lazily.
"You're not wearing your ring."
"Oh," she glanced down quickly, "Ryan and I…things didn't work out," she shrugged and tried to make it seem nonchalant, "So much for promise rings, huh?"
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
"No; I'm not," he admitted. He shifted abruptly in his seat, "And promise rings are stupid anyway. You can't promise anything."
"You can promise some things. Like love; loyalty-"
"You can't even promise those. You can just try. That's all you can do."
"That's really…" she leaned forward on her elbows, sighing and staring at him, "Depressing, Derek."
"Tell me about it."
The oven dinged and Casey looked both intrigued and relieved as she stood and turned from him.
--
"This is really good," Derek said, spinning another forkful of pasta.
"Ancient Italian recipe."
"Really?"
"No," she said, smiling. She watched as he shoved the entire chunk in his mouth, "Just Prego."
"It's good," he said again, and it was silly, but she felt warm with satisfaction as he devoured another forkful.
Her cheek fell to her palm and she studied him thoughtfully. "It's probably been a while since you've had a real meal, huh?"
He nodded. "Sometimes the natives would take a few of us in, but, uh…I couldn't recognize most of the food. Or pronounce it."
"So no hoagies in Afghanistan, huh?"
"No hoagies. No ribs. No pancakes…" he trailed off and looked at her mournfully at the last word.
"Well, I'll have to fix that."
He grunted his approval and dug back in. Casey sorted her own plate before glancing back and blurting, "You should call home."
"Case-"
"I know, I know, it's weird; but they miss you. And, they're worried. We're all worried."
His lips thinned and he set down his fork, sighing. "I will. I just…I want to fix everything before they see me; make sure everything's…right."
He looked at her imploringly, and Casey nodded, slowly, reluctantly, and returned to her plate.
--
She'd been there less than a day and the bathroom was already ruined. Powders and creams and brushes and other unidentified female objects cluttered the bathroom sink, and Derek grunted to himself as he sorted through it all. He sighed when he finally found his soap and reached to shrug off his tee. He was reaching for his bottoms when his eyes flickered to cabinet. It was Casey's body wash.
He remembered how it used to smell, how she smelled, and his fingers reached instinctively to grab it, take it in.
"Having fun?"
"Casey," Derek said, spinning toward her as the bathroom door creaked open, "Hey."
"Hey," she repeated bemusedly.
"I was just-"
"Smelling my soap?" she offered a-matter-of-factly.
"Right."
He cleared his throat and stiffly handed her the bottle. "Just an urge," he said dumbly.
"Right; cause that's not weird."
He rolled his eyes at her critical look and gestured to the shower. "Do you mind? I could use some privacy."
"Well, the door was open. But, please, don't let me interrupt your covert bathroom investigating."
"Just leave," he said tensely.
"Fine."
"Thank you."
She was halfway out the door, when she turned suddenly, almost smacking into his flustered form. "What's that on your chest?"
"A vision of the Virgin Mary; now go."
"Derek," she chided, cutting him off and stepping back in.
Derek moved back uncomfortably as her eyes stuck to his chest, studying the fading, but jagged scar just over his heart. Wordlessly, her thumb reached to trace it and he let her, before hissing, "Casey."
"What?" she asked, at once retreating.
"Just-just…don't do that."
His voice was low, firm as he pulled his shirt hastily over his head.
"I'm sorry," she said again, indignant, "Why are you so prickly?"
"Why are you so touchy?"
She huffed. "Well, excuse me for being a normal human being who requires contact every once a while."
"Like you're normal."
He grumbled something else under his breath, turning from her, and Casey's face heated as she reached out and gave his arm a mean pinch.
"Hey."
"Any other rules I should know about?" she asked, "Am I allowed to look at you? Breathe in your presence?"
"Stop being difficult; you're supposed to be helping."
"I'm trying to help, but you're being all whacko."
"Well, helping me without touching me would be great, thank you."
"Pfft, trust me, you won't have to ask again."
"Good," he said scowling as she marched through the door. He eyes widened and he called out into the hallway, "And, don't forget.: eight o'clock tomorrow."
--
"Nigel can be a little eccentric," Derek said as the dusty Civic pulled onto the main road, "But he's helpful."
"Sounds like Paul," she said, smiling slightly as she looked out the window.
"Uh, sure. If Paul was old, white, and British."
His fingers began drumming lightly and then more rapidly against the steering wheel and Casey sent him a sideways glance.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"Of course; I trust you."
His gaze flashed from the road and then sincerely onto hers and Casey nodded. "I know. That's why I'm here…I just…it seems like this whole thing's gotta be a little stressful. One man standing between you and 'sanity', from society, from returning to everything you know and love."
Derek blinked. "Was that supposed to calm me?"
"Sorry," she said sheepishly.
Derek looked anxious, but shrugged it off, moving on. "He's going to ask some questions about you, about our relationship, just to get some perspective; nothing personal."
"How could this not be personal?" she asked, voice holding hints of shortness.
"I didn't mean it that way. Of course it's personal, because it involves you. I just meant that this is all about me and my state of mind. I know you don't like sharing personal stuff, so I was just putting that out there."
Casey sighed, shoulders relaxing a little as she leaned back, "I'm sorry," she said, "I guess maybe I am little nervous."
"It's fine."
His eyes flickered to hers and then back to the road as they pulled into the Dr. Nigel Park's driveway.
