Chapter 1
"Oh, bloody hell."
Derek surveyed his couch, there were several baskets of laundry tossed haphazardly onto it with no one in sight to fold them. And it wasn't going to be him. He did the dishes last night.
Gods. He was beginning to feel like a chorus boy in his own life.
"Do you make it a habit of leaving clothing just lying around the living room?" The grumpy director shouted up the stairs.
She bounded down said stairs with a lopsided grin. "I was getting ready to fold them when my Mom called, got distracted. Besides this place could use a more lived in feel."
"Yes, nothing like a stack of unfolded laundry to accomplish a lived in feel. And while I generally enjoy women's clothing laying about my home, I prefer to be the one taking them off." Derek replied dryly, but couldn't contain the smirk that appeared. "Karen, my home has never looked more lived in. As evidenced by the fresh flowers, dirty dishes always in the sink and leftovers in the fridge. Not to mention that god awful floral chair currently sitting in the corner of my office."
"An office you never use and it was the only piece of furniture I owned outright." She twisted her foot around the floor. "So there are no benefits to having me here?"
"I wouldn't say that." His eyes crinkled. "The home cooked meals are a definite advantage." He stepped closer with a smirk. "As is proximity."
Karen blushed slightly at this. Proximity to Derek was definitely becoming a problem. Reason being: she couldn't get enough.
If only Derek hadn't insisted on seeing her home the night the ensemble returned from Boston, they wouldn't even be in this situation. He did though and upon reaching her apartment they found several boxes outside the door, topped off with her makeup bag.
Derek's temper flared instantly, Karen knew he'd love nothing more than to throw a few punches Dev's way. He did have it coming after all, for several reasons. However, Karen calmly said she'd deal with it tomorrow and just find a motel for the night. She cried enough in Boston, she was done.
Rather stoically Derek took her by the elbow and headed back downstairs explaining that his star would not be staying in some dingy motel room when he had plenty of space.
And that is how they found themselves in this current predicament, going on a month.
She hadn't meant to stay so long. But Derek quite reasonably explained, after hiring a packing company to get all Karen's things, that it made sense being there was so little, to put it all at his place since he had two extra rooms, why pay for a storage unit? And then she could focus on finding an apartment.
The problem was there were no apartments in her price range and everyone she knew already had roommates.
Again, Derek wisely suggested that Karen should be saving her money for when one became available and not worry at the moment. Her focus should be on Bombshell. Karen relented and they swiftly grew into a somewhat domestically challenged routine. The challenge being Derek didn't seem to know how to live with another person. Karen on the other hand, enjoyed domesticity and quickly grew tired of takeout and the maid.
3 weeks ago
"You did what?" Derek's arms went across his chest and his stance widened, clearly ready for a fight.
Karen shrugged, "I sent Theresa home. I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when she came in anyway." Taking a seat on the barstool at the counter, she started picking imaginary lint from the bottom of her shirt. He may rule his rehearsals with an iron fist, but they weren't at rehearsal, they were at home, his home... crap. Well he'd just have to make some adjustments, he's the one that insisted she stay. His star.
His apartment. His star. His rehearsals. His. His. His. She wanted to stomp her foot, but wouldn't allow such a childish display, unless his foot happened to be near enough.
"She's employed by me. She's taken care of this place for five years. I won't have you dismissing my employees." Derek's brow furrowed. He wanted to be mad, if anyone else had pulled something like this he'd be furious. Ivy, for example. However, she would be more likely to dismiss the maid over some sort of misplaced jealousy. Karen on the other hand, had been cleaning the place herself. And he couldn't ignore the feminine touches that had cropped up around his house in the last seven days. His lip started to quirk upward, which he quickly turned to a scowl to cover his own pleasure.
"All I said was that her services wouldn't be needed for the time being and you'd call her when they were. Unless she did more than polish the silver around here."
Derek scoffed. "Darling, she wasn't even that good."
Karen laughed, relieved.
Present
Derek took another step closer to Karen, caught himself and went to the bar, rubbing his head. It had been a trying day, all he wanted was some scotch, the couch and maybe dinner. He sniffed the air discreetly; smelled like shepherd's pie. I could get used to this. I already am. Derek was at a loss for how she managed to work the often grueling hours of rehearsal, her coffeehouse shifts - which were becoming less frequent, and still come home and cook and enjoy doing it. Even if supper was at 11 p.m.
Derek would admit within that first week he didn't think his foolhardy suggestion Karen stay at his place would work out, he didn't like sharing his space and despite what he knew she thought, Derek didn't do this because she was his star, he just wanted to make sure she would be okay, but now he found himself hoping she wouldn't leave at all. Which scared him. Desire he could handle. These new sentiments left him at a loss. Wanting to see her at night, despite the fact they worked all day together, talk to her about... anything really, wanting to know what she thought and how she felt; all while knowing she wouldn't end up in his bed.
It was a bit thrilling actually, there was no trying, Derek could just be. He enjoyed the weekend mornings when he would find her in the kitchen. He liked the occasional sweater tossed over the stair railing. Derek felt like there was a purpose in coming home now. Perhaps because nowadays it felt like a home.
"So the meeting didn't go well?"
Breaking out of his reverie, Derek scowled pouring his scotch. "Not quite as I'd hoped, but nothing to worry about. Eileen's working on it." Downing the glass, he continued, "Tom's pushing for some unnecessary changes to a couple numbers and Julia can't seem to piece together a coherent story. We spent the last three hours arguing, a complete waste of the afternoon, if you ask me. So be ready for the return of your tyrannical director tomorrow."
"I didn't know he left."
Derek's brows popped up and he let out a chuckle. "Is that so?" He grabbed a towel from the counter, Karen seeing what he was about jumped down and ran to the other side with Derek close on her heels. He chased her through the living room and around the stairs until the timer went off in the kitchen and she called a ceasefire.
His mirth faded somewhat as he watched her at the oven, realizing the only games he was used to playing were in the bedroom. Yet, chasing this young woman around his apartment gave him quite a lot of pleasure. And he wanted more.
His face darkened, he needed another scotch. Derek could feel himself changing and damned if there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. Not that he wanted to, if it meant Karen was in his life. He wondered if she realized he hadn't even went out since she moved in, apart from business dinners. He wondered why it mattered so much that she notice.
