Almost there! Many thanks again to all reviewers.

Disclaimer: LWD is so completely not mine.

PHONE CALL THE SIXTH: GEORGE

Casey could hear the phone ringing as she fumbled with her keys. "Don't hang up, don't hang up, don't hang up," she muttered, as she jiggled the key in the lock and pushed the door open. She ran for the phone, and gasped out –

"Hello?"

"Oh hey Casey!" George answered. "I was just calling to wish Derek good luck for the game tomorrow."

"I don't think he's here - but just let me check," she said. "DEREK! GEORGE IS ON THE PHONE...No, sorry."

"Uh...thanks, Casey," George said, in a tone that suggested his ears had borne the brunt of the yelling. "So," he brightened, "What's this Nora tells me?"

"About...?" Casey asked, hoping against hope that George wouldn't say –

"You know," he said, in a teasing 'girls' talk' voice that she found deeply disturbing, "about you finding Mr. Right."

"Oh. Yeah. About that," she began reluctantly, only to be cut off by –

"I know exactly what you mean, Casey. I remember when I was in college, there was this girl..."

"And she was perfect for you?" Casey said, wearily.

"Perfect? I'll never forget her. Noelle..." George said dreamily, then, coming back down to earth. "Or was it Jane?"

She sighed.

"No, no, it was definitely Noelle. Unless it was Jennifer...Anyway" –

"You'll never forget her," Casey interrupted.

"Yeah."

"Well, James and I broke up this evening, so" –

"Who's James?" George asked.

"He was - you know what? Nevermind," Casey said, then pricked her ears up as she heard the front door open and close. "George, I'm going to have to say goodbye now"–

"Is that Derek? Could you put him on for a second – I want to wish him" –

Casey hung up the phone and hurried out of the kitchen.

"Derek," she said.

The object of her regard ignored her in favour of slinging his bag into the corner by the door.

Casey took a deep breath and said those three terrible words: "You were right."

She stopped. "I feel nauseous just saying that."

With a look of interest, Derek straightened. He held out his hands in a 'please go on' gesture.

"We need to talk," Casey continued.

Abruptly, his hands dropped. "No, we don't," he disagreed, and walked past her.

"Um...excuse me?" she said, following him.

He turned. "I'm sorry, Case, do you need me to speak slower...or use smaller words? Are there smaller words I could use? Because that seemed kind of self explanatory to me."

"Wait a minute – do you not remember our fight yesterday?"

"Vaguely."

"Where you - you - Derek Venturi, Mr. Why Use Conversation When a Simple Grunt or Body Function Will Do, insisted that we needed to talk."

Derek shook his head pityingly. "I think your memory is playing tricks on you, Casey. I did not insist that we needed to talk."

Casey stared at him.

"There might have been a brief period – a very brief period," he qualified, "where I...might...have mentioned something about...possibly talking. What can I say – it was a slow day...I was bored. But that's not a problem for me anymore."

Casey's jaw dropped. "Are you really this petty?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Casey paused for a moment, working out the best angle of attack. "Gee, Derek, if I didn't know better, I'd say your feelings were hurt," she said, with raised eyebrows.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he objected. "I don't do feelings."

"I know," Casey rolled her eyes. "Derek Venturi does not do human emotions. Or logical thought. Or rational conversation. We're going to talk anyway."

"Uh, no, we're not."

"Oh no, no, no," she said. "I am fully committed to making this mistake. I did not break up with James just so that you could back out now."

"So, the two of you finally broke up," Derek said in satisfaction. "What a shame." He shook his head in mock disappointment.

Casey ignored the bait. "Paul helped me to see that" –

"Paul who?" he asked, only to answer his question with an incredulous, "Paul Creepy, the guidance counsellor? You still talk to him?"

He paused for a moment. "Sorry – I'm a little off my game tonight. Let me rephrase that. He still speaks to you?"

"Derek" –

"Well, sorry to loathe you and leave you, but the guys should be picking me up for our pre-game meal any second, so..."

"Oh, you think you're going out for a pre-game meal," Casey said, the tone of her voice broadcasting 'isn't that cute?'

"And why wouldn't I?" Derek asked.

"No reason," Casey shrugged, "Just...aren't you forgetting something important?"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "And what would that be?"

Casey took a few steps to the left, to where the basket of just-dried clothes sat on top of the couch. She pulled out... "Your lucky pre-game shirt?"

Derek looked consideringly at the green shirt in her hands. "Give it to me," he said, finally.

"No."

"Casey, I want my shirt back."

"And I don't want to give it back. Hmmm, I think we might have a slight problem, here."

"Casey..." Derek began in a reasonable tone, only to suddenly charge at her. However, she dodged and managed to keep a safe distance. They paced around the couch, watching each other warily.

"Give me my shirt," he said again.

"Okay," Casey agreed. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

He looked at her with an almost amused expression. "Am I supposed to back down, here?"

"No," she said. "You're supposed to close your eyes, and hold out your hands."

A long moment later, and Derek did just that.

"No looking," Casey warned, as she cautiously came closer.

"Like I'd want to," he replied, but she noticed his lips were already parted.

Carefully, she reached out, stretched up a little, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his cheek, then to the side of his mouth. Derek turned his head slightly at the last, so her next kiss fell squarely on his lips. This kiss was...almost solemn, and strangely tender, and when Casey moved back, she saw that Derek's eyes were still closed. She pressed the shirt into his hands, as wave of some weird feeling rose up in her, and she almost turned away when he finally opened his eyes.

But she held her ground, and looked straight back at him. "We are so going to talk when you get back," she said softly.

"And what makes you think that?" he asked, just as quietly.

"Because we both know that you don't have a lucky pre-game shirt," she said simply.

A car horn beeped impatiently outside, and someone began banging at the door, and yelling, "Come on Venturi, open up!"

"I'll just get that, will I?" Casey asked, as Derek just stared at her.