NOTES: This chapter's a weird one for me. I'm undecided on it, and I can't figure out whether it's because it really didn't turn out how I'd planned, or whether it's just because I'm looking for an excuse to delay writing the next bit. I hope it's okay - but comments and criticisms are always welcome. (And thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed - it's much appreciated)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything LWD. (Also, I should probably take a minute to disclaim ownership of Peter Shaffer's 'Equus'...in case it wasn't obvious - that's also totally not mine)
The real thing beats fantasy every time, right? That's why actually eating a bag of chips is a million times better than imagining eating a bag of chips. Reality equals better than fantasy. It's a pretty straightforward equation (Derek's favorite kind) – no working out required.
By that token, the fact that he's having actual sex with Casey means that he doesn't need to fantasize about having sex with her. Except (like everything involving Casey), the situation follows Casey illogic and these days? Derek's brain is a regular pornutopia. He can't (doesn't want to) figure it out.
So in this fantasy, he's sitting in a director's chair and Casey's reciting lines up on the stage. And right in the middle of her speech, he says, loudly, "Okay – I've seen enough."
Casey stops dead. He probably shouldn't enjoy the surprised (disappointed) look on her face so much.
"No," she protests. "Please – just let me finish...I've worked really hard on this!"
"I'm sure you have," he says (and he's looking at the clock), "But I'm going to be honest here. I'm not feeling it."
She goes completely still for a second, before trying again (because when has Casey ever let people's complete disinterest affect her behavior?). "If you let me finish, I'm sure you'll" –
"Yeah – you're not the only person auditioning," he says, "And like I said, I'm not feeling it."
She stares at him for a long moment – then promises, "I'll make you feel it." Her voice is serious, determined (and bam, she has him – just like that).
Then she's swinging herself off the stage, and standing in front of him. "What are you looking for?" she asks softly.
He takes a long look at her (what happens next is a foregone conclusion – he's just enjoying the anticipation, stringing out the moment).
Finally, he says, "See – this movie? It's all about...the nature of worship." (Yeah it's pretentious, but the payoff's worth it). "I'm just...not seeing it in your performance."
"Maybe you're not looking hard enough," she leans closer, and her hands are on the armrests of his chair, boxing him in. "Because I definitely understand worship." (It's not subtle, but her delivery packs a punch).
She bends down and kisses his jaw, under his ear, his neck. Soft and slow and bone-meltingly good. His hands come up, involuntarily, but she catches them in hers.
"The nature of worship," she reminds him. She runs her thumbs over the backs of his hands, then folds his fingers closed, and lets go. She slides to her knees in front of him, and heat licks up his chest even before she touches him, just at the sight of her. And then her hands stroke up his thighs, and her fingers are unbuttoning his jeans, unzipping him, and her mouth –
Maybe it's the casting couch talking – but yeah, this time, he feels it.
And then, just when Derek thinks he's getting some kind of handle on their particular brand of weird and dysfunctional (now with added nakedness) – the tutoring sessions switch to Casey's place.
"She said something about...something. I didn't really get it, to be honest," Jerry offers unhelpfully, when Derek asks him (in a very casual way) about it. "I don't know if you've noticed, but your stepsister talks kind of fast."
He's not worried about it though. Casey's rooming with three other girls (and she has to share a bedroom) so Jerry can splash on all the cologne he wants, it's not going to make any difference. And there's probably some legitimate reason for Casey to – completely wreck the Casey-and-Derek dynamic he'd just worked out (appreciated, Case!).
Okay, so the only reason he can think of is work – because it's totally inconceivable that she could have gotten...bored...with him (right?). Casey reads poetry and keeps a daily journal of her thoughts and feelings – she obviously has a really high boredom threshold (plus, he's totally a one man party. Bring a hat). So he never even considers that reason (...for more than a second. At most).
In the end, he does what anyone would do in his situation. Waits a couple of days – then gives in and cleans his room really thoroughly.
The next step in this process involves showing up at her door and not knocking for an embarrassing length of time – then turning around to find a girl in a tracksuit staring at him, hands on her hips. (Just to set the scene, he doesn't yelp in surprise).
"Hi – do you want something, or are you just admiring our – admittedly kickass – veneer?"
"Hi," he manages. "– I'm Derek." He waits for the familiar 'that's Derek?' look that appears whenever he's introduced to one of Casey's friends. And waits. (Doesn't she know who he is?)
"Casey...might have mentioned me?" he offers. (Stepbrother? Bane of her existence? Nemesis? Ringing any bells?)
She shrugs.
(Oh)
"So – it's Casey you're looking for?" she asks, pushing past him and opening the door. She doesn't wait for an answer, just calls, "Case! Some guy here to see you!"
(Some guy? He's not some guy. He's Der-ek!)
He peers around the girl to see Casey scurrying out of what he guesses is the kitchen – since she has a ladle in her hand. She stops when she sees him.
"Derek! What are you doing here?"
He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Casey's eyes widen, and she springs into action, hustling past the girl at the door, and saying, "Or, why don't you – not answer that, and we can talk outside!"
She pulls the door shut and turns to face him – and wow...it kind of hits him right at that moment just how embarrassing this is going to be (he's Derek and he'll be your loser tonight. Enjoy the show!)
"Well?" she asks, then tries to cross her arms – it doesn't really work with the ladle, and she ends up dropping her arms to her sides.
"I found this," he says, and holds out his hand. She looks down and blinks.
"It's a scrunchie," she says blankly (and he found it under his bed – he knows what it is). "You...came here to...return my scrunchie?"
(She doesn't have to sound so surprised. It's a completely normal thing to do)
"It's not like I'm going to use it," he shrugs. (The weird thing would be if he had kept it).
"And I'm sure it was just taking up so much space..." She keeps staring at his palm.
"I found a piece of your crap – I decided to return it...which by the way, I'm kind of regretting now – are you going to take it, or do I dump it in a random trash can as I leave?" (Because he's a busy guy – he has things to do, people to see...maybe he's got other scrunchies to return).
"No – that's...um, thank you. For returning...my scrunchie." He wishes she'd stop saying scrunchie in that weird way, with the uplift at the end (the word 'scrunchie' is more than stupid enough as it stands).
"Okay, so..." he gestures impatiently with the scrunchie-holding hand. Slowly, she reaches out and takes it. Her fingers brush across his palm quickly, and then he's scrunchie-less (mission accomplished, because it's not like he had any other reason for doing this).
"That's it?" she says, pushing the scrunchie up onto her wrist.
(That's it. Completely it. He had no further expectations).
"Just...usually you want some kind of reward when you act in a vaguely...human manner." She twirls the stupid scrunchie round and round on her wrist (seriously, the thing deserves star billing in this feature. It's definitely got the best lines).
She looks at him expectantly.
He blinks. What are they talking about? "...Do you want – to reward me?" (...this? This is the script he's going with?).
"Well – how else are you going to learn?" she asks eventually, tilting her chin up and looking directly at him.
(Yeah, that's...what?)
Casey takes a step closer and kisses him, and that's –
"...That's it?" he asks, as she moves back.
"It was a scrunchie," she says. "What were you expecting – a trophy?"
(If 'trophy' is a metaphor for pulling her closer and kissing her properly while her arms go around him and the ladle digs into his back...)
He's really not into the whole PDA thing – but it hits him, as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans – how they would look to someone walking past. Just a normal couple (...and their ladle).
For some bizarre reason, it makes him hug her tighter and mumble into her hair, "So...let's say you were giving me a trophy...what would it say?" He closes his eyes (and hopes for something that he can translate into 'Most Valuable Player').
And then suddenly Casey's all angles and elbows in his arms (and he doesn't get this, how girls can go from sixty to zero – just like that) – before she pulls away entirely.
"Pasta!"
(...does Casey think that's a sports term?)
"I should make sure the pasta hasn't boiled over," she says, brandishing her ladle. Okay, now he gets it.
"You're" –
"Having a girls' night in," she interrupts, voice loud and bright.
"My favorite kind." (He doesn't think there's anything in the refrigerator at his place. That's all).
It doesn't matter anyway, because she doesn't ask him to stay.
The thing is – this one time, he was doing the quality weekend bonding thing with his mom. And – not that there wasn't some quality bonding going down...but it was – kind of like the last bonding sesh. And the one before that. (Not that said bonding sessions weren't all special. And different. Just – special and different like...identical twins).
The point is, she asked about his week (and he gave her an appropriately edited 'Greatest Hits' reel), he asked about her week – and she gave him the usual 'Stress! Study! Sea-Urchins!' thing (he loves his mom – but seriously, she needs a better editor). Afterwards, he remembers that she put more emphasis on the stress part – and that she told the same story twice. But at the time...
Anyway, they'd finished their meal, and he waited in the car while his mom paid. He still had his drink and as he fiddled with her radio settings (classical? Really, he was just ensuring she didn't fall asleep at the wheel), he ended up spilling soda on his pants. So he opened the glove compartment in search of some tissues. And all these candy wrappers fell out. Like, a lot – even to him (and he'd never met an additive he didn't like).
And it wasn't (it really wasn't) a lifetime movie kind of moment, with the ominous life-would-never-be-the-same music. It was just...kind of embarrassing – and not for him. And...his mom was probably stressed out enough. So he shoved all the wrappers back into the glove compartment and didn't say anything.
And that's what it's like with Casey. He can't shake the feeling he's the junk in her glove compartment. A bad habit she doesn't want anyone to know about, a momentary lapse in standards.
So, he decides. It's her move now. If Casey wants him – well, she knows where he is.
(Additives are addictive, right?)
Of course, two nights later, he's standing outside Casey's door again. But this time, it's got nothing to do with him. This time it's all down to Jerry, who insisted (and he's huge, so his insistence is pretty...insistent) on veering towards Casey's place in spite of it being really late and –
"It's not late – it's early," Jerry reasons cheerfully. Random onlookers would probably put this stupidity down to alcohol (when alcohol is just the backseat passenger, and stupidity is the one parking the car).
He knocks loudly, and keeps knocking until there's the sound of a window opening, and low murmuring. Then Casey's voice hisses –
"What is going on?!"
And then, just when Derek thinks it can't get any better, Jerry starts quoting. "What light thru longer yindow barks?" he says, and Derek can't help it, he laughs.
"Jerry?! Derek?! What are you...wait there!" she closes the window, and seconds later, she unlocks the door. She stands there, glaring, in very pink pajamas.
"Tell him to keep it down!" someone calls from behind her, but she doesn't turn around.
"Double-gum double-gum, pleasure your fun," Jerry tries (yeah, Derek doesn't know).
"What are you doing? It's two in the morning!" she whispers. "Derek – what did you do to him?"
"Nothing to do with me," he defends (hey, the damage began with whoever dropped Jerry on the head as a child). Casey shoots him a disbelieving glance.
"Casey," Jerry has this big dumb smile on his face, "You are really good." He turns to Derek. "Your stepsister is very good," he tells him. Derek fights the urge to describe in detail just how good Casey is – and exactly how little (read nothing) that has to do with Jerry – who continues, in gloppy, half-incoherent detail –
" – and you know, helping me, and – like, all the notes...you must buy lots of pens. And paper" –
"That's really sweet – I think," Casey says quickly. "But, you know – we were sleeping...and it's kind of late, so maybe you could come back another" –
"So what do you say?" Jerry continues, ignoring her.
"What?"
"Will you go out with me?"
Okay, under normal circumstances, Derek might (might) own up to being a little concerned. But – it's two in the morning, Casey's wearing pink pajamas, and Jerry just asked her out in between spouting what Derek can only assume are tongue-twisters. There is no part of this that is not funny. He considerately provides the laugh track, but Casey narrows her eyes at him.
(And here comes the brush off)
"Jerry," Casey says kindly, "I'm very flattered but" –
"No – no no no," Jerry interrupts, shaking his head. "You don't get it."
"I mean, you're a great guy, really. A really great guy" – (Can he fast-forward through this bit?).
"Good!" Jerry says, "Because, Casey...Casey, Casey, Casey – you are just..." he trails off and shakes his head. "I am just – whoosh – falling. You know. For you."
(He's falling for her? Hello – Derek's practically a splat on the sidewalk)
"You...are?" Casey says, and something in her face softens, and this whole thing takes an abrupt left turn into Not Fun territory (he can practically hear the screech of the gears). His smile is frozen on his face, and he can just feel where this is heading – because suddenly, Casey has this look like she's been waiting for a drunk guy to stumble to her door all her life, and all Derek can do is hope –
"Thats..."
(Come on, Casey)
"That's..."
(Because it's such a stupid cliché)
She looks at him, this brief, darting glance – there's just a second of connection before she looks away again.
(Hold out for an original plot-device! This one has 'Property of Kate...Whatshername' written all over it!)
"Okay," she says, in this soft voice. "I'll go out with you."
(Question: are romantic comedies supposed to induce this kind of gut-clenching revulsion?)
