Note: Each chapter will alternate between Derek and Casey. Not all of them will be this short. Thanks for reading :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek
Casey's POV: He's messy.
He's messy, obviously. The entire family is to be honest, but he's the worst.
That morning, her mother tells her to tidy up the house a little. Her and Lizzie have already attacked the catastrophe downstairs and now its time for the upstairs.
First on the list, Derek's room.
He has hockey practice that starts at 12 and ends at 4. It's 2 o'clock now, so she's got two hours before he comes back home and kicks her out.
His room's a wreck.
You can't see the carpet because his clothes are strewn all over the floor. His closet's filled with old crap from when he was kid and hockey trophies. You'd think he'd keep them in a safer place. Oddly enough his desk is coated with books. Probably just to keep his bag lighter. She's afraid to approach what's under his bed and turns out it's just a few wrappers from candy bars and what not.
She finds an old photo album in his drawer and goes through it for a while, sitting on his freshly made bed, thanks to her. She tries not to notice that he was a cute kid. She quickly puts it back into its place once she hears the front door close and makes her way downstairs.
He obnoxiously drops his hockey bag at the bottom of the stairs and goes to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He's gonna leave the jar of peanut butter open on the counter. He always does. She's gonna put it away. She always does.
Surprisingly, he's serious about his personal hygiene. She knows this from the tiny pieces of hair and shaving cream he leaves all over the sink every once in a while. She gets a weird feeling when she realizes she shaves, but she tries not to think about it. Whenever they wrestle, he doesn't smell completely atrocious. There's a hint of cologne there, but something else she can't quite recognize. Somehow he always manages to find relatively clean clothes to wear.
When he comes downstairs for dinner, he doesn't say anything about the new appearance of his room. He doesn't yell at her for touching his things or invading his privacy. She doesn't ask why.
She even does his laundry and purposely drops it off in his room while he's there. She goes in without knocking and hopes that he'll be pissed his wardrobe smells like lavender and a spring meadow. He isn't. He barely looks up from the magazine, but she's pretty sure she heard a 'thanks' on her way out.
So that's the way it's been since then. Every Sunday he finds his room spotless because she realizes that all these things are what makes him so...him. It's all just so familiar and comforting and just so Derek, that she can't help herself.