Author's Note: This is A.U. (which will become apparent soon enough). If after this first part you're left with questions, that's intentional :) Also, please leave any and all feedback. It would be much appreciated :)

Obviously


She could see him from her window. Not that she watched him—obviously. There were just always... opportunities.

She looked at her journal without actually looking at it and then glanced back out. Still there.

Scruffy hair. Worn jeans. Sad eyes. Leather jacket.

She saw him glance down at his cell—then his eyes flashed to her window and hers flashed quickly back down.

Five words into her makeshift sentence and her phone rang.


"Derek's here!" Lizzie called from downstairs.

Casey shouted back, "I know!"

She grabbed her Calculus book—not before checking her hair in the mirror and then denying she'd taken the time—and headed down the steps. Derek was waiting for her there, hands stuffed in his pockets, and absentmindedly nodding at something Lizzie was rambling to him about.

"…that's why the Ozone Layer is so important-"

"Yeah, right, cool, awesome—you got my notes, Spazzo?"

"Don't call me that!" Casey cried, although somewhat half-heartedly since she knew he would always call her that.

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"It's a 'yes'; obviously." She held out the papers in front him. He reached for them with a smirk, but then she pulled them away, tucking them safely behind her back. "But, there are strings."

"There are always strings with you," Derek said, "You're like a yarn ball....but lamer."

"I am not lame."

"Right. And, I'm not failing Calc." He rolled his eyes, "What do you want?"

"I need a ride to the mall later."

"What, are your feet broken?"

She huffed, took exactly two steps towards the stairs, and his palm was on her on wrist, then his fingers too, grasping her in that, "I have to control everything you do, because I'm obnoxious" way he had. He spun her back. "Fine," he said, "Now gimme."

Casey smiled, a softer version of his infamous smirk, and slipped from his grasp. "I'll need a ride back, too."

"Fine," he said.

He snatched the papers from her hand. He looked over them, but she could tell he wasn't entirely focused. "What were you gonna do if I said 'no'?"

She shrugged. "Well, since my feet aren't broken—unlike your brain—I would have walked. It's only a mil-"

"Don't you watch the news?" he said, crashing into her sentence.

She squinted. "No. Do you?"

"No," he said, "But, my dad does. Some random girl got assaulted last night. She had a goofy ponytail just like you. Don't be stupid."

He wouldn't look directly at her. His hand was rubbing the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable. She almost called him on it.

"Fine," she said instead.

"Good," he mumbled.

Beat.

"I should go," he said.

"Right," Casey smiled wryly, "Wouldn't want to hold you up from all that intense homework copying."

"Whatever."

"I hate when you say that," Casey said, mimicking his slow steps towards the front door, "Everything's 'whatever' with you."

"Whatever," he said again.

He smirked. His eyes were brown. She liked brown.

He opened the door. "I'll pick you up after practice."

"Eww." Her nose scrunched. "Shower first."

"Most girls like my masculine musk."

"Well, I'm not most girls."

"Yeah, yeah, go write a novel about it." He waved her off and Casey rolled her eyes, "Six o'clock. Musk n' all. Take it or leave it."

"Like I have a choice," she said dryly, "Because obviously I'd choose a stroll in a blazing fire than five minutes in the car with you."

Her insult bounced right off his chest. "And, yet you're always around me."

His eyes were smug—as they were way too often—as he walked a few steps back, Casey following him past the threshold of the doorway.

"You are so arrogant. And so vain. And, did I mention deluded…"

His lips quirked, bemused. "No, you hadn't gotten there yet."

"I only hang out with you because I'm stuck with you. Our stupid parents and their stupid club. And, Lizzie and Edwin and their stupid friendship. Our stupid houses right next to each other. Your stupid car and my stupid not-car. It's all stupid. But, not as stupid as you—who, did I mention—is stupid?"

"Is that 'yes'; or a 'no'?"

She huffed. "It's a 'yes'; obviously."


It was more "their car" than Derek's car. She helped him get his license—it took him three tries. She washed it for him when she lost bets. He gave her rides everywhere, even though—of course—he made her work for it.

She threw up in it once when she ate too much ice cream.

--

"How's this?" she asked him.

Derek glanced up idly from his comic and sighed. "It's fine, Case. Can we leave now?"

"You didn't even look," she whined.

"Fine." He leaned over the jewelry counter and peered at the silver locket. It was heart-shaped. "Could you be any more girly?"

"Possibly," she deadpanned, "If I tried. Now for real, what do you think?"

"It's fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

"It's not 'whatever', Derek," she said, returning her own eye roll, "It's going to be swinging on my neck every day. It sort of needs to look nice."

"And, spoil this whole 'ugly' thing you got goin?" He frowned. "That'd be a shame."

"I'm not ugly," she hissed.

It was her normal agitated voice, with a tinge of something else.

Derek sighed, shifted back and forth as if deciding, and then muttered, "I never said you were ugly."

"You just did," she said, arms folded, "What, do you need an instant-replay?"

"Let me see it on you, Spazzo."

"Don't call me that." Again, half-hearted, as he hovered behind her, comic forgotten on the glass. He lifted the necklace and—with the delicate grace of a hockey forward—slipped it round her neck. His hands were rough. It tickled.

She watched him in the mirror, watched as he watched the necklace on her. His eyes weren't mush, but they weren't hard either. "S'okay," he mumbled.

That meant "good" in Derek speak.

"I don't know how you're gonna afford this," he said, eyes finally dragging from the curve of her neck.

"Why do you think I work all the time?"

He shrugged. "Because you have no life and don't mind working weekends?"

She glowered at him in the mirror. But, he'd already moved back to his comic.

"It comes with a matching bracelet," she said, half to herself, "But, uh, nevermind…"

She trailed off and Derek's eyes trailed to her wrist. Blue, red, green, yellow beads and half a shoelace round her wrist. His head ducked. Then it rose again.

"I can't believe you still wear that."

His voice was low, his eyes back on the comic. She couldn't read him and she usually could.

"You gave it to me," she said quietly, "So you know, 'duh.'"

He smirked, but not meanly."I also gave you that worm in second grade. You didn't keep that."

"That's because you ate it," she said, laughter coming with the memory, "You are so gross." Her nose scrunched, "I don't see how you get girls anywhere near that mouth."

She thought about that mouth a lot.

Mostly just wishing he'd shut it up. Sometimes…not so much.

He snorted. "Well, I don't give them shoelaces with beads on them anyhow."

"Derek Venturi," she said, holding up her wrist and demanding his full attention, "This is nicest thing you've ever done for me. Arguably the only nice thing. No way I'm not wearing it every day 'til I die."

"I was ten, Case."

"You were sweet," she said.

Her voice was tinged with wistfulness. Her fingers traced the beads.

His head ducked. "Yeah, well…whatever."

"Whatever," Casey mimicked, eyes rolling. She sighed and said goodbye to the moment. "Could you be any more emotionally stunted?"

"Possibly," he said with a smirk, "If I tried."


Being with him in public was weird. Everyone thought they were either siblings—gross—or dating—less gross. But, still: gross.


"Almost forgot," Casey said as Derek killed the engine, both of them sitting in his driveway—only a few yards from her driveway. She slipped him a strip of notebook paper.

He opened it. "What's this?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "Rebecca McGuire's phone number. Apparently, I'm your secretary now."

"Nah, no way. I only have hot secretaries."

Casey scowled at him. A little more than usual when she saw him study the number.

"She's flaky. Boring. You wouldn't like her."

Her hand reached for the door, but Derek's hand reached for her forearm, stopping her. "Flaky?" he repeated, "Boring? Who are we talking about here?"

"I'm not flaky. I'm not boring."

His hand was still on her. His lips quirked. "We're definitely talking about you."

"Ungh!" she grunted and stole her arm away.

"Woah." Derek's brows jumped. "Calm down, Spazzo."

"I am calm," she lied.

"You seem a little bothered."

"Yeah, well, you bother me."

She left the car and he didn't stop her, the door slamming in her usual huff. He rolled his eyes and got out from the other side.

"Don't be jealous," he said, "I'm sure there's some unlucky lameo with your name written all over him."

"I am not jealous," she said—and she was almost sure it was true. She crossed her arms, "Unlike some Venturis who shall remain nameless, I don't need relationships to feel good about myself."

He cocked his head. "Well that explains why you're never in any."

She punched his arm. Hard. Not playful at all. "I can't stand you," she hissed, stomping away.

She made it all the way to her front door, Derek watching in bemusement, before she turned abruptly, and marched back towards him.

Derek raised a brow.

"This is for you." She reached into her purse and pulled out a C.D. "For D" was scribbled on the front, "It's supposed to help you sleep."

His faced dropped. The sad came back to his eyes. "I don't need it."

"Yeah, you do," she said softly, "I see can under your eyes." Her thumb brushed below his lashes to prove it, "You're not sleeping."

He looked away. He wouldn't say anything.

"Dreams?" she asked.

"Whatever," he said.

He breathed out. She breathed in. She squeezed by his elbow, the leather crunching slightly. "Just try it," she said.

He shrugged. "Whatev-"

"I hate when you say that."

Derek looked down, the C.D. tucked in his hand. "Marti's been asking about you. Wondering when you'll be over again. For Tea Time."

"I'll come over tomorrow," she said instantly.

"Alright."

A few steps between them and Casey realized she would have had to come back outside, C.D. or not, because she hadn't hugged him yet. Her arms latched around his neck, and he just stood there, like he did every night, not stopping her, but not really helping either. The C.D. poked at her ribs.


Before she went to bed she looked out the window. She could see him from there. And she watched him—obviously.