I've managed to write another (albeit fairly short) chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: People who own shows manipulate actors, not internet fiction.

It was brighter than he remembered. Glancing around the room, he furrowed a brow. Brighter than when? The thought evaporated as footsteps echoed behind him; whirling, he found himself facing a blonde. Kendra. With a small smile she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before sitting comfortably on his bed. He quirked a grin in return, sinking down beside her and leaning in. She smiled expectantly, watching his lips draw closer. Just before their mouths touched, he caught sight of a brunette passing by the open door in his peripheral vision. Slightly distracted, his thoughts returned to the blonde when her lips brushed his.

The room was dark but comfortable. The lamp on his bedside was clicked on, and he was lying against the pillows, flipping through a comic book. A blonde lay perpendicular to him, head resting slightly against his hip and a magazine forgotten beside her. His brain registered her rhythmic breathing as he skimmed the word bubbles on the page and glanced across the pictures. Light streamed through the doorway, and he caught a glimpse of swaying brunette hair as a head poked in the door long enough to say, "Dinner's ready," and pop back out. The blonde beside him stirred and slowly sat up, smiling languidly.

He could feel the chill of the air, but he felt overheated as he concentrated on skating around his opponents. With a practiced 'swap' his stick connected with ice, spraying white powder as the puck sailed into the net. Relaxing into an easygoing confidence, he smirked as he skated back across the rink, glancing up to the stands. There. Blonde hair. She looked bored and he knew she was itching to dig her nail kit from her bag, but she smiled brightly when he caught her eye. He glanced down as he slid to a halt, accepting the deserved slaps on the back from his teammates. When he glanced up again, she was looking slightly more alert, asking a question of the brunette sitting next to her. Why was she here? he wondered briefly; but then the blonde glanced back up, giving a cutesy wave he barely returned before he refocused on the game.

Derek felt himself begin to drift, and suddenly it was cold and dark and his eyes were falling open. Squinting in the face of his muddled mind, Derek dimly noted the covers had partially fallen to the floor; with a halfhearted kick, he let them slide off the end of his bed. Clicking on the lamp, he gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand through haphazard hair as he swung himself off the bed and trudged down the hallway.

The clock blared four am and he groaned, rubbing weary fingers over his eyes. He didn't need to wake up for another three hours. Wishing he could go back to sleep, Derek absently clicked the coffee machine on and pulled a mug from the cabinet. Maybe excess caffeine would help keep him conscious and functioning during work.

It had only been in the weeks after his engagement party that he'd started having these dreams. They didn't bother him, per se, but there was an uncomfortable feeling lurking around the edges of his mind when he awoke. And though there was entirely nothing noteworthy about the memories, he found he could rarely sleep once he woke from one.

At the ding of the coffee maker, he lethargically grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup, snatching the sugar from the counter as he passed and shaking the granules into the mixture as he walked to the chair. Taking a deep swig, he thought absently on the dreams.
They seemed fairly mundane; just glimpses in time, mostly in the months preceding graduation. Nothing out of the ordinary. Staring into his drink he mulled it over.

He didn't think of that time often, he realized. The easygoing teen relationship. It was all before or after: the first girl he had feelings for, the first girl he was serious with; the first girl with whom he made an effort after a major fallout. Never innocent. Never fun. Everything had shaded that, made it loose its potency.

But why is Casey in them? he wondered, frustrated with himself. It's not like they're telling me something important. She's just there, a temporary distraction. He chuckled ironically at the thought. There had never been anything temporary about Casey. His mouth twisted into a rueful grin, his boundaries not fully awake enough to stop his thoughts. With a shake of his head, he grabbed his mug from the table and went to sit in his chair, flipping on early morning sports highlights to fill up the gap in his schedule.

When he arrived home after a blurred day at work, he was surprised by the hybrid car sitting in front of the complex. He jogged up the stairs and slid his key into the lock, opening the door before dropping the keys into his pocket. No one was waiting, so he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the couch as he moved around the apartment, looking for signs of life.

"Derek," he heard from behind him, and he turned to the voice, surprised to find his little sister sitting at the kitchen table.

"Where's Lizzie?" he wanted to know. Somehow, he couldn't believe that Lizzie had lent her car to Marti, no matter how good a mood she was in. Marti was something of an erratic driver, and it took a bit of convincing for even their dad to give his sister the keys.

"Oh, I borrowed her car," Marti dismissed flippantly. A smile twitched Derek's lips at the statement; no where did she mention Lizzie allowing the action. "Derek," she repeated, sounding as though she wanted something and wouldn't take no for an answer. "You have to stop her."

"Stop who?" he asked, seating himself beside her and watching her curiously.

"Kendra." She practically groaned the name, and he wanted to sigh in agreement of the explanation left unspoken. "It's been three weeks, Derek. She's gone completely crazy."

He did his best not to agree with her. They had decided on a date before the engagement party, but in the preceding weeks she had come up with a location and tentative decorating scheme and moved on to exhausting the world's supply of flower and dress magazines.

"I'm staying out of it," he told her apologetically, lifting his hands defensively. "I'd like to keep my sanity for the honeymoon, if at all possible."

"Smer-ek," she wheedled, doing her best to look pathetic. Derek felt a pang of sympathy for his little sister, but he crossed his arms and watched her resolutely. Sighing, Marti changed her tactic. "Derek, she's Bridezilla already. I mean, she pulled me out of school today," she explained plainly.

"And the problem is . . ." Derek raised an eyebrow, unable to understand her discontent.

"To look at dresses," she deadpanned. At the slight cringe on her older brother's face, she added, "And I'm not talking normal bridesmaid dresses. Frilly and pink," she stated blandly, wrinkling her nose. Derek winced. "I thought Kendra was all into fashion," Marti complained, content that she had growing sympathy from her brother.

"I think it's a psycho bride thing," he speculated, trying not to imagine the horrors of Marti's description. "They need someone to snap them out of it." Marti gave him an expectant look and he quickly added, "Not me."

"Smerek, who else will she listen to?" she cajoled, pouting.

"I'm not getting involved," Derek said firmly, doing his best to squelch the brotherly instincts she knew she was causing. "Why don't you talk to Nora or Casey or someone?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because. Nora thinks it's sweet that she's so happy, and won't interfere anyway because she's so glad you're getting married, and you know Casey won't get involved." He winced internally at that. "And Lizzie's staying away from the planning whenever possible; you know I can't rope her into sharing my agony." He somehow doubted that, but thought it best to spare Lizzie whatever means his sister would come up with.

Derek was running out of options. There was no way he was getting involved in this anymore than he had to—his plan extended to getting a tux and showing up—but he couldn't abandon his sister. "Uh, Kendra's cousin is in town; did you meet her?"

Marti stopped sulking, looking intrigued. "No. We left the engagement party early, remember?"

"Why don't you talk to her?" he asked, clinging to his last option. "I mean, she's a little Multiple Personality, but she seems kind of sane about all that girly planning stuff. And Kendra will listen to her," he added as Marti's look turned contemplative. "Sort of," he amended, and Marti sighed.

"Alright. But if this doesn't work, I'm coming back. I have ways of making you help," she threatened, only half playfully.

"And I have ways of getting around them," he reminded with a grin, glad to have avoided apparent disaster. "You staying for dinner?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Can't. Play practice. But I'll come back soon," she promised, grabbing her bag from the floor and dumping out half the contents before fishing out the keys. "You need some bearable company," she quipped, and he shook his head, knowing she was partially right. He was marrying Kendra for a reason, but sometimes . . .. He raised a hand in farewell as Marti traipsed out the door, smiling deviously at who knew what. Shaking his head, he began to search through the cabinets for something edible.

As he dumped his empty dinner bowl into the sink, Derek briefly wondered why he still ate Ramen Noodles three years out of college. Because you're too lazy to make anything else, he answered himself. Flicking on the tap, he smiled longingly. He should have had Kendra over for dinner. Not in the state she was in, of course, but good food and a fiancée were usually a good combination. The water began to flow over the sides of the bowl and he turned the water off, leaving a pool of it stagnant in the dish and abandoning it to relax in front of the TV.

He was startled from his bored fascination with a Jeep commercial by the vibrating of his pocket. He reached down and pulled out his phone, flipping it open with one hand and relaxing back into the chair.

"Hello?"

"Derek?" An odd dart shot through him, but he ignored it as he always did.

"That would be a logical assumption, considering this is my phone," he drawled wryly.

"Derek, be serious," the voice commanded, and he sat up, taking note of the worried tone.

"Something wrong, Casey?"

"Not wrong, really. It's just . . .," she sighed. "Marti's gone again. Do you know where she went?"

"Yeah, she stopped by. Said she had play practice."

Casey sighed, simultaneously relieved and annoyed. Her voice muffled for a moment and he could hear someone on the other line before it cleared. "Thanks, Derek. I don't know why she just disappears like that. I swear every time I go out with Mom she vanishes again. If she would just write down her schedule . . .-"

"Relax, Case. Marti's not going to follow a schedule," he pointed out, half realizing she would take the opportunity to lecture; he didn't really care. Lectures, at least, were the same.

"Thanks to the influence of some people. Her life would be so much easier if . . .-"

"Casey, she can take care of herself," Derek reminded, uninterested.

"But ever since she passed that driver's test she's been driving Mom nuts. No one ever knows where she is anymore, and-."

"And she's always just fine. She's at school for cripes' sake."

There was a pause on the other line before Casey reluctantly said, "Fine. But next time you should tell her to check in with Mom." He could tell she wanted to say more, and felt the old annoyance at her restraint.

Nonetheless, he followed suit. "Yeah, sure," he dismissed easily. "I'll tell her."

"Alright," she accepted, and there was a pause. "Oh. George wants you to call. I think he wants a male bonding day or something. He gets back tomorrow, so I'd try him after dinner."

"I know, Casey. Just because you live fifteen minutes closer doesn't mean I never talk to my Dad," he told her, sure she could hear him rolling his eyes.

"MmHmm," she responded noncommittally. "Anyway, I need to get home, and I should tell Mom she doesn't need to call any more of Marti's friends. I'll talk to you later, okay?" It was a casual farewell, and he felt his irritation rise.

"Sure," he replied, easily hiding the dissatisfaction in his tone. "Later."

"Goodbye, Derek," she said, then hung up. Derek snapped his cell shut and tossed it onto the couch, where it bounced before catching in the crack between cushions. Leaning back in his chair, he scrubbed a hand across his face.

There was always something vaguely disconcerting about talking to Casey. It wasn't like he never saw her. He saw her all the time, actually. It just never seemed . . . right to him, the way they acted. Their conversations were polite and unchallenging, the kind of dialogue acquaintances would exchange when they didn't want to offend one another. Any insults or jokes were forced, contrived from expectations rather than actual desire for them. There was no hint of understanding each other; it wasn't argumentative or heated or annoyed or energetic. It wasn't him and Casey. Yes it is, he reminded himself. That is me and Casey. Casual. Polite. Boring. But they whys of it led to things he didn't want to think about; didn't think about, when he could help it.

Heaving himself from his chair, he wandered into the kitchen, listening as the TV clicked back to the game. Cold beer, junk food and hockey, he decided, moving to the fridge. Just the right things to distract a guy.

WWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwWWWWWWWWW

I'm not quite sure about my characterization of Derek. It's hard for me to get inside his head, namely because he's a male, lol. And taking into account that he's grown up a bit, I'm trying to find a balance of typical Derek and typical adult male who avoids everything (that sounded so stereotypical, didn't it? Apologies). Any opinions would be appreciated. If he seems irritated frequently, it's because he obviously dislikes being wrapped up in the wedding planning and dealing with Kendra; but if it seems to get too excessive, let me know. Hope you liked the chapter. Suggestions are love.