Well Shaken
-Prologue-
Derek bounded down the staircase in his usual manner, his hair flopping atop his head. Edwin and Lizzie were sitting on the couch engrossed in their Saturday morning cartoons, Marti playing Tea Party with Sir Monks-a-Lot on the floor in front of them. He glanced at them quickly; making sure no one noticed him creeping over to his father. George was sitting in his usual spot at the dining table going over some financial documents for a new case.
"Hey, Dad," he adjusted his wristband. "Can we . . . talk? In private?" he looked at his father through his bangs, lowering his voice so as not to provoke the other children.
George looked at his son warily. Usually, whenever Derek came to him like this it meant something terrible had been done and was looking to his father to clean it up.
"Why, Derek? What'd you do this time? Does it involve the police, because I really can't sta - ," he was cut off by the look his son was giving him.
"No, dad, it doesn't involve the police; it's nothing like that. I just . . . I just need to talk to you. Alone." He glanced behind himself to make sure the others hadn't been disturbed. When he looked back to his father, George nodded warily.
"Alright. How 'bout in the kitchen? Nora's gone shopping so she won't come up and disturb us."
Derek nodded slightly,"Yeah, sure. That's fine."
Truth be told, seeing his son so nervous was making George nervous, which, in-turn, made Derek more nervous. They moved into the kitchen and sat at the island, Derek continuously adjusting and readjusting his wristband. Derek sat with his back to the doors, after shutting and locking them, of course.
His father ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a big breath in, then out.
"Alright, Derek. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
Derek pulled at non-existent lint on his jeans. This was gonna be rough.
"Well, Dad, um . . .well, you know how . . . you . . . always say that whenever I, um, kinda, go there with a girl, I should let you know. So you know I'm . . . active?" his father nodded.
"Yeah . . ."
"Well, uh, yeah . . . We're kinda . . . there." He glanced away, then back, "Now." Derek put his hands up before his dad could respond. "And, I know you wanted me to wait, at least until I was eighteen, but, it just sorta . . . happened."
"Well, I . . . assume, you were safe?"
Derek cringed a little at his father's generic response. "Well, yeah, Dad. I may be a slacker, but I'm not an idiot."
George heaved a sigh of relief and smirked a little at his son's response. "So, do I, uh, know this lucky girl?"
The boy gave a reluctant, nervous smile. "Uh, yeah, yeah, actually. She's, uh, someone you'd really approve of. In fact, you, uh, know her pretty well already . . ."
Eyes wide, his father started guessing. "Is it Sally? She seemed–" A shake of the head from his son.
"Its not Kendra is it? You two broke up months ago–" Another shake.
"Emily?" A chuckle and another shaken head.
"Well, Derek, you gotta help me out here. I don't really know any–" cut off again, but this time, by a knock at the kitchen doors.
"Hello? Derek? George? Is anybody in there?" It was Casey. "The kids said you went in there. Look, I just need to get a dr–"
George watched his son as he stared at the doors, then turned back toward him, eyes wide, avoiding eye contact. Realization hit like a sledge hammer to the back of the head.
"Derek, I'm going to ask you this once, and I want the truth. Is it Casey?"
A pause. Then, a wide-eyed, slow nod as he readjusted his wristband yet again.
". . . Yeah."
A/N: Okay, this is my first time writing anything for LWD, never mind anything NOT for 1xR - Gundam Wing. Which is on hiatus, but will be back soon. Anywho, let me know what you think so far, good, bad, or extremely ugly . . . I wanna hear it. Just try to make it constructive. I won't continue if no one like it/reviews. I'm asking at least 10, hopefully 15 by this time next week. Lemme know, yo!
