A/N: This fic was inspired by: I love…Who?, a Harry Potter fanfiction of hilariously epic proportions; Matchmaker sheets, a ridiculous little fundraiser my school's student government came up with; Matchmaker, Matchmaker, a Harry Potter romantic comedy of my own; and A Midsummer Night's Dream, classically brought to you by the Bard himself, and my English teacher who's making us read it.
I love reviews, and I get an email everytime somebody favorites my author's name or my story and when you add my author's name or my story to your alerts list. So I can tell when you're reading my story but not reviewing. Please, please take the short time to review; I really appreciate reviews, they inspire me to keep writing! Plus, it was my birthday the other day. –pouts- I really appreciate all the lovely reviews I did get, so thank you! (Oh, and I'm not trying to threaten you or anything...honestly ;) )
Okay, I assume most of you have seen the clips released and that whole podcast where the cast are reading through the last episode we have yet to see of Season 3, Derek's School of Dating? Well, if you haven't, do, because that's who Amanda is—and the "freeze-out strategy". But keep in mind I have no idea what happens, so when we finally do see it this story won't be canon-compliant, perhaps.
Once again, if you enjoy this you may enjoy my other LwD story; the link can be found in my profile!
Um…sorry for the very long author's note…I just love communicating with my readers. ;)
Lizzie slammed the front door shut and angrily kicked off her shoes. She had been just about ready to throttle Jamie today, what with the hints and winks and…ugh.
She was moodily watching TV with a large bowl of chips in her lap when an alien hand reached in and grabbed a handful of Barbequed potato chips.
"Buzz off, Edwin," she growled. There was the "Jamie situation", the fact that Edwin got to miss the first half of the school day, this rerun she'd seen 50 billion times, and now a chip thief. She couldn't handle much more.
"Whatcha watchin'?" Edwin asked, jumping over the back of the couch to take a seat next to her.
Before she could answer—or, more appealingly, kill him—two tiny people came running down the stairs to stand in front of the TV. Marti had her purple boa wrapped securely around her waist, and Dimi was holding a pen and clipboard—upside down—and looking nervous.
"Lizzie," Marti began, "What different kinds of roses are there?"
"Um," said Lizzie. She'd had a friend once whose parents had been florists; surely she could remember. "Well, there are primroses and wild roses, but you're probably thinking of the traditional rose, right? There's red, obviously, and pink, in all shades. There's white and a kind of purple-ish rose, and peach, and yellow, and orangey-yellow ones that look like sunset—those are my favorite. I think I may have seen a black rose before, but I'm not sure…There is no such thing as a blue rose, though."
Satisfied that she had covered them all, she grabbed another chip and took a bite.
"Okay," Marti chirped. She turned to Dimi. "Along with that gallon of chocolate I want a dozen blue roses by Friday." She grabbed a frazzled-looking Dimi's hand and dragged him off, clipboard and all.
Edwin chuckled. "Poor little guy. How many times have they been married?"
"At least ten," Lizzie laughed, bad mood somewhat averted. They watched the TV in companionable silence for a little while, before George came and took Marti and Dimi's place in front of the TV.
"Lizzie, I need you to tell me how this sounds. It's the menu for the Valentine's dinner I'm making your mother on Friday." He sat on the edge of the coffee table and read from his yellow legal pad. "Okay, for the appetizer I'm thinking apples—red delicious—with cheddar cheese—not mild, not sharp, but that medium—what's it called? Oh, nevermind. For the soup course, chicken-flavored Top Ramen—unless you think she'd like beef-flavored more? For the main course, gourmet hot dogs, and for dessert…chocolate ice cream."
He looked at them expectantly. Lizzie and Edwin blinked at him for a moment.
"You did say 'romantic Valentine's meal', didn't you?" Edwin asked.
"How is a hot dog supposed to be gourmet?" Lizzie wanted to know.
"But these were the only things Casey trusted me to make without burning down the house," George protested.
"Lobster. Mom likes lobster," Lizzie said.
"Oh, yeah, with butter sauce!" said Edwin.
"You could do a whole seafood theme—"
"Right: crab, lobster, salmon, halibut, shrimp, sushi…" Edwin ticked off on his fingers.
"I think there are some good recipes on FoodNetwork-dot-com."
"I think they have a sale on seafood for Valentine's day at the grocery store—but is seafood in season?"
"California rolls are her favorite type of sushi, by the way—"
"You'll have to research the appropriate wine—"
"—unless it's not seafood season, in which case you could go with filet mignon or something."
"Which requires a completely different choice of drink. Have you thought about decorations?"
"You may want to buy some nice scented candles—"
"And a festive tablecloth. Do we own a festive tablecloth?"
"What about music? Have you picked a soothing, romantic selection of classical dinner music?"
"Um—I—" George was frantically trying to get all their suggestions down on his pad.
"Tell ya what, Dad," Edwin said, patting his father on the shoulder. "Go talk to Casey. She'll know what to do."
Nearly as soon as George had gone off to find Casey, Nora stumbled through the door laden with shopping bags. And once again there was someone standing in front of the TV.
"Okay," Nora said. "So I told George we didn't need to do anything big for Friday, but I assume he got dinner reservations anyway, so I've been out shopping for his Valentine's present. I just couldn't decide what to get him, so I bought a lot, but I'll return most of it…"
Nora began unloading her shopping bags onto the table: a CD, a DVD, a cashmere sweater, a gold watch, cuff links, espresso beans, a book, a razor, a pair of shoes, a gift card to the hardware store, a new guitar strap, a mug…
"Did you buy out the whole mall?" Lizzie asked in disbelief as Nora emptied the last bag.
"Well, I couldn't decide. The CD is one he's been liking for a while, but it's cheap and he could always get it himself; the DVD is one I thought we could watch together, but I can't guarantee he'll like it and we could rent it instead, I suppose; the sweater—do you think it's too cashmere? It was sort of expensive but I thought it'd match his eyes. Do you think he'd wear it? I know he already has a watch but this one was so nice and even though it was a bit of a splurge, I—"
Nora paused to take breath, then prattled on.
"I hate this holiday," Lizzie whispered to Edwin, and what could he do but nod in agreement?
While Lizzie and Edwin attempted to watch TV downstairs, Derek was shut up in his bedroom with Ralph and Sam, under the pretense of "doing homework". Rock music blasted through the room. Derek was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Ralph was riffling through Derek's CD collection, and Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, actually attempting to do his math assignment.
"Hey, dudes!" Ralph exclaimed, pulling a CD out. "This has our song on it…"
"Here he goes," Sam muttered.
"Me and Amanda are gonna request it at the dance!"
"Speaking of the dance, D," Sam said, closing his math book, "You gonna go? Or are you 'shunning it' like you planned to do with last year's prom?"
Derek shrugged.
"We're already making plans for prom this year," Ralph practically gushed. "Mandy took me to get a tux yesterday."
"I think you should ask Sally," Sam plowed on. "What's stopping you?"
Derek shrugged again. "I dunno. I just lost interest, I guess."
"In Sally? Please tell me that's part of your freeze-out strategy," Sam said in disbelief. "If you freeze her out much longer, she's gonna get snapped up."
"That's how I won Mandy," Ralph sighed dreamily. "Freeze-out strategy."
"You going, Sam?" Derek asked, shifting the subject of conversation away from himself.
"Don't have anyone to ask, really."
"I gave Amanda a rose when I asked her to go with me…I think I'll give her a whole bouquet at the dance."
"D'you think that was really was Schlepper yesterday?" said Derek, continuing to ignore Ralph.
"Huh?" said Ralph.
"We thought we saw Sheldon Schlepper when we were driving home from the rink yesterday," Sam explained.
"Didn't he move to Antarctica or something?" asked Ralph, temporarily distracted from his Amanda-mania.
"Newfoundland."
"Oh."
"Hey, do you know that Noel kid?" Derek asked suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows to stare at Sam.
"Yeah, sorta…he's in my Spanish class. Why?"
"Does he have a girlfriend?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"Does he like Casey?"
"I have no idea. Why?"
"Does Casey like him?"
"Dunno. Why?"
"Is he planning on asking her out?" Derek got off the bed and started to actually pace around his room. "Has he already asked her out? What exactly was she doing dragging him into a deserted hallway today at lunch when she should have been going to get Edwin after I ignored him?"
"Wait…what?" Sam said, totally losing Derek's train of thought. "Wait, why?"
Derek shrugged. "Well, if any of the answers is yes, then it's my job to ruin it for her. I live to make Casey miserable."
"Right," said Sam, rolling his eyes.
"I live to make Amanda happy," Ralph cooed. Ralph plus cooing equals…not a good thing.
"Gag me," Derek groaned.
Lizzie and Edwin were in the game closet, as usual, Marti had dragged Dimi over to Emily's, George and Nora were out for a movie, Derek was holed away with Sam and Ralph "doing homework", and Casey was fixing herself a snack.
Ding, dong!
Casey left the carton of ice cream to soften on the counter and went to open the door.
"What, no compliments on my appearance this time?"
Casey laughed. "Hey, Sally. Come in."
"Thanks," Sally said, entering the house with Derek's leather jacket over her arm. "Sorry to drop by so late—"
"Oh, no problem," Casey said, waving an airy hand. "Did Derek forget something at work again?"
"Well, in a way…"
"Derek!" Casey yelled up the stairs.
"What?" he hollered back.
"Sally's here to see you!"
There was a long pause, then: "I'm not home!"
Casey crinkled her forehead in confusion. "That's odd," she said. She started to head up the stairs, but Sally stopped her.
"No, it's okay," Sally said. "I know why he's avoiding me—He didn't 'forget' his jacket, he left it when he sneaked off work a half hour early. So he's probably a little afraid."
"Oh, of course," Casey said, rolling her eyes. "That is so like him. Here, let me take that for you." She took Derek's jacket and carefully hung it on the coat rack.
"Well, I should probably go now," said Sally, starting back towards the door.
"Okay," said Casey. "I'm sorry you drove all the way down for the Creature—you want to stay for some ice cream, or something?"
"Hey," Sally laughed. "You don't have to feel bad for what your stepbrother did or didn't do."
"I know, it's just—are you sure you don't want some ice cream? I was having some anyway."
"No, really, it's okay," Sally assured her.
"It's chocolate," Casey wheedled, feeling honestly bad for Derek's mistreatment of Sally after she had gone so far out of her way to give the undeserving jerk his stupid jacket.
"Okay, fine, you've convinced me," Sally said, pulling out a chair at the dining room table. "Bring on the chocolate."
Casey smiled and went into the kitchen to grab the ice cream and two spoons. She came back out, handed one to Sally, and took a seat across from her with her own spoon. "Dig in," she invited.
"Thanks," Sally said, proceeding to do just that.
"So," Casey said after a moment, around a mouthful of ice cream, "He cut off? When?"
Sally shrugged. "Yesterday. I think he left to go play hockey—he had his bag, anyway, and left with Sam. Who I think had been told to distract me." She laughed. "It worked, up until the last second, anyway."
"So irresponsible," Casey muttered. "Anyway, enough about the Creature… Are you still going out with…um…Patrick?"
"No, we've been broken up for months, for good this time. What about you and Max?"
"Same here," Casey sighed.
"So neither of us has someone to snuggle up with for Valentine's Day," mused Sally.
"I guess not," Casey agreed.
"Well, then here's to girl power." Sally took a large spoonful of ice cream. "But…I do sort of have a crush…I'm not sure it'll go anywhere, though."
"Ooh, dish," Casey said eagerly. It had been days since she'd heard some decent gossip, and even though she was usually above and opposed to such things (example: last Valentine's Day), she was dying for some interesting news.
"I don't know… I know he used to like me, but I may have waited too long. I don't know if he does anymore."
"Well, what makes you think he doesn't?"
"Probably the fact that he's not constantly hitting on me and trying to score," Sally admitted.
They continued talking (gossiping), eating (gorging), and laughing (hysterically), as the bottom of the carton began to make an appearance and the sun inched lower in the sky.
"Anyway," Casey was saying a good forty-five minutes later, her spoon scraping the bottom of the paper carton, "So he told me he used to like me, you know, but then he laughed and said don't worry, he got over it. I mean, what exactly am I even supposed to say to that? Especially when I just sort of realized recently I totally have a crush on him?"
"So you definitely like him, then?"
"Yes! But I didn't like him when he liked me because I was dating Max—I think I may have lost my chance, too."
"You don't know that. He could just be saying that," Sally suggested. "Maybe he still likes you, and was—testing the waters, or something."
"Maybe," Casey said as she finished off the last spoonful of ice cream. "I hope so."
"Oh, shoot," Sally said suddenly, looking at her watch. "I really gotta go—I didn't realize it was so late."
Casey glanced at the clock above the mantle. "Me neither," she said. She put both of their spoons into the empty carton and quickly carried it into the kitchen. "My mom and George should be home any minute."
"Well, it's been fun," Sally said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime." She stood up and began to walk to the front door.
"Yeah, next time you come to visit the Creature," Casey said, walking with her as far as the coat rack. She was really liking this new name she had come up with to describe Derek. "Hey," she said as Sally opened the door and stepped outside, "good luck with your boy problems."
"You, too," Sally said, and shut the door.
Noel had been having a very odd day.
First, Derek Venturi kept popping up everywhere. He was there in the hallway, staring straight at Noel, when Noel was getting his books out of his locker. He was lurking behind when Noel walked to class. And he was there at lunch, practically dogging his footsteps as Noel went to the cafeteria, the bathroom, his locker—Derek wasn't as inconspicuous as he seemed to think he was. Noel had never pegged The Derek Venturi as a stalker type, but Noel was actually surprised when Derek didn't follow him right into the bathroom stall.
Okay, so it wasn't like he was obviously following Noel, but Noel definitely saw more of Derek that day than he probably had in his entire life before that. And he knew it wasn't his imagination, as Derek always seemed to be in the middle of a conversation when Noel turned to look at him—and the person he seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with was always giving him a very strange look.
Noel had no idea why Derek seemed to have developed a sudden interest in everything he did. But that wasn't the only thing strange about his day—there was Casey, too.
Now, Noel liked Casey. When she wasn't dating Max, she was levelheaded, fun, smart, and an all around cool girl. But today she was…different.
If Derek was constantly watching him from afar, Casey was constantly talking to him up close. She stopped to talk to him between pretty much every class, despite the fact that he'd never before seen her on the routes he usually took to his classes. She'd be peppy and giggle and touch his arm a lot, and he'd be confused and bewildered. And Derek—Derek would sidle closer, and his eyes would narrow, and he'd take it in turns to glare at Casey and Noel, who had no idea what exactly he'd done to deserve Derek's glare. When Casey was talking to him, Derek seemed to give up all pretense of pretending not to be following Noel. Casey seemed not to notice her stepbrother at all.
Except during the assembly. The assembly at which Casey had bounded up to Noel's side and sat by him, chattering the whole time. The assembly at which Derek took a seat right behind them, breathing down Noel's neck the whole time. Casey noticed him then, and glared very hard, which Derek pretended not to notice. Noel pretended not to notice, either. He wasn't sure what was going on, if he'd gotten involved of some family feud or what, but he wanted out.
After the assembly, Noel began very quickly walking in the opposite direction whenever he saw either of the teenagers from the McV clan heading his way. Had he not been so preoccupied with all the strangeness, he might have noticed some other things that were out of place at J.S. Thompson High.
He might have noticed Emily, who had had basically no contact with Bulldog football players since Casey broke up with Max, having an animated conversation with a big linebacker Noel was pretty sure was called Pete. He might have noticed Ralph, who was usually off in his own world of rock'n'roll, hugging a blonde girl and calling her "cupcake" and "Mandikins". He might have noticed Sam repeatedly hitting himself upside the head and muttering things like "stop thinking about her". There were many things he might have noticed.
But all Noel really wanted to was to go home and crawl in bed.
All was not well.
Paul had just finished organizing his files. It had taken him a good half hour just to organize everything he had on Casey—in fact, he was hoping she wouldn't come in with any more problems before he had time to request a new filing cabinet from…whoever handled that sort of thing. Alas, he had no such luck.
"Hey, Paul!" There was no mistaking that voice, or the way she just barged into his office without knocking… Idly, Paul wondered if she did the same thing in her siblings' bedrooms at home.
"Hello, Casey," Paul replied in a measured tone. "Sit…down," he trailed off; Casey had settled herself into the chair in front of his desk before he had finished greeting her.
"Paul, I need to talk to you. About boy problems."
"Oh, I…" Really, that was more a mother thing. He was just the guidance counselor. What expertise did he have on dating?
"See, I just realized recently that I really like this guy. But I'm not sure if I should tell him, or what, because I'm not sure he likes me back, right? But I really do like him, and even though it feels like it came on sort of suddenly I think I might have subconsciously liked him for a while. So today, since Valentine's Day is so close, I've been turning the flirting volume up way high, but I don't know if he's even noticed, or what. Or if he likes me. So what do you think I should do?" She said it all very quickly, so that it took Paul a few seconds to comprehend what she was saying.
"Well," Paul said, feeling a bit of hope growing inside of him. "You say you just realized you liked him, but you might have liked him for a while?" Casey nodded. "What exactly do you like about this boy?" If she didn't want to admit who it was, fine, but she would at least confirm his suspicions.
"Oh, I don't know, it's just that he's so…different. Not like out there, weird, crazy different, but just unique. And he's got a really cute smile—I think a lot of girls like that smile, actually. And he does talk to me a lot. And…I don't know…"
Well, that certainly sounded like the Derek Venturi he knew—albeit indirectly. He tried not to show his joy at Casey's finally admitting she was in love with her stepbrother, as he'd known for a long time. It wasn't a in a professional's place to be so excited. And anyway, of course the only reason it made him so happy was because it showed she was making progress, growing and maturing as an individual.
"I'm sure he likes you back, Casey," Paul said, giving her a warm smile.
"But…how would you know? Do you know who I'm talking about?"
"Yes, I do," he assured her. "And don't worry, I think it's great."
"Oh…okay. Well, thanks," she said, sounding a little confused. Obviously she hadn't been expecting him to know, or his ready approval.
"So you want to know how you should tell him," Paul said thoughtfully.
"Yes, and hopefully before the dance, because I don't think he's going to be there if he doesn't have a date."
Paul nodded, remembering Casey's tale last year about Derek's aversion to prom.
"Well, if I know…this boy, I can see how it might be complicated to just sit down and talk it out, or tell him you like him, or anything like that," Paul thought out loud.
"You know, I've been thinking the same thing," Casey said eagerly. "Emily and I were talking today, and we have this idea that he's really a pent-up volcano of passion, just waiting to explode—and I don't think just talking will cause that eruption. If he really does like me, of course."
"Oh, he does," he said. "Don't worry." He was pretty surprised, actually—although pleasantly so—that Casey had gone to apparently hating Derek to being so enthusiastic about liking him in such a short space of time. It just went to show how mature she was, even when handling something as big as the fact that she was in love with her stepbrother.
"So, what are you going to do, then? Just go up and give him a big smackeroo in the middle of the hall?" Paul joked.
Casey looked thoughtful. "Actually," she said slowly. "That's not such a bad idea. It would show him how much I cared—and if he really does like me, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He might be glad I made the first move. He might think it's romantic—poets are really romantic. He might be too shy to make the first move himself."
Wait—poet? Shy?
"Casey," Paul said, a bit confused now. "I think your love—well, liking of this boy may have sort of…blinded you, or something… Don't go making misconceptions, you're smarter than that—"
"Thanks for everything, Paul!" Casey said, standing up, and leaving. "You've been a big help."
Let the chaos begin…hee hee. Not one of my favorite chapters, but I'd love to know what you think! (Also, I just realized that this fic is not much shorter than The Various Misadventures of Casey and Derek, and I'm only two chapters in! -shocked face-
