PART OF THIS CHAPTER WAS INSPIRED BY, AND IS A REFERENCE TO A SCENE IN THE MOVIE "Dan in Real Life."

Disclaimer: No own LWD, nor the Dan in real life movie :(


Chapter 7

Love Potions

After Lizzie had left him he had stayed on that couch for a small while longer, staring up at the ceiling with newfound layers of frustration and...fear? Why...her? I fucking hate this...

He rubbed his eyes, exhausted. He had never had to make an effort to even pretend to feel anything for any girl to win her over, much less, feeling anything truly. He would simply have to breathe, blink, or smirk just right, and the girl would be all over him. His was the famous Venturi charm everyone was aware of. Almost everyone, he thought bitterly.

Charm that he felt kept getting lost in translation with this girl. He more than knew that Casey was...different, for lack of a better term. There really wasn't a one liner that could encompass every height, sharp drop, every curve of the roller coaster ride that she was. He amused himself with how easily he could make anything have a double entendre.

But...she would most certainly not fall over him with just the charm, the smirk, and his overdone pick up lines. Sigh. Just why in the world would he ever want such a frustrating puzzle in his life again? A fun... challenge? He tried. And what if it...fits? A slight smirk grew on his face as he snorted. Oh the ways he cracked himself up.

It was so absurd to think that almost three years ago, from one moment to the next, it was imposed on him to see a complete stranger as his annoying, overbearing, and complicated new step-sister, but he always knew she was much, much too pretty... since the first day he laid eyes on her. And he learned pretty fast that aside from being charming, he had another natural, er... talent.

He realized with unsettling fascination that he had the ability to capture her undivided attention in a matter of seconds and keep it... for hours. No one else in the house was able to do that, not even her own mother, he noted; that it was negative attention was, of course, of no consequence to him; what mattered was that she always paid attention. And he subconsciously found that he liked it.

His dad had been too busy being nauseatingly happy with his new wife and overselling his own Bradybunch vision on them, a la Venturi. Edwin was busy dealing with everything...in an Edwin kind of way; Marti...well she was really the only one whose attention did clung to Derek on the regular, but she had also been busy dealing with things in her own way; her imaginary friend, Daphne first made her appearance around the same time their parents had separated, and the well-known insufferable, Venturi charm made a grand appearance in the then six year old once the McDonalds moved in.

His mom? Well, she was too busy not being around. He ran his hand through his hair, ridding himself of the memories. Not even fucking worth it.

So as much as he didn't want it, as much as he convinced himself that it wasn't important, and how revolted it made him feel, he found he did relish the attention.

While everything seemed to keep on changing around him in a way that more or less made his skin crawl, Casey McDonald turned out to be very...consistent. He had been more than unhappy with the new 'family' arrangements, he loathed it. But realizing his dad was too far gone to see otherwise, he had to keep himself occupied with more important things like, surviving.

He sat up on the couch and stared at the remnants of the TV in the corner. Lizzie's words getting to him.

The day he tested the waters with his new co-inhabitant, if only to see just with what he was dealing with... he found that instead of making the girl cry, he had unearthed a very formidable Player 2. Was thrilled the word? He then pushed and he pushed...and she would always respond, like clockwork. The idea of seeing how far he could push and how far she would retaliate was almost invigorating.

Over the years, through the ups and downs she had proved to always be there for him, even when he definitively didn't want her involvement, and he... well he seemed to keep finding himself getting involved in her life and being there for her when it counted. They had developed a weird sort of, dare he say it, pseudo-friendship? Because he was repulsed at the idea that what they had was any sort of familial bond, regardless of how loose it was.

He wondered when was it that he started to see her with a different, new light. Last year... his mind began.

'I really am sorry, Derek...'

The divorce, the aftermath. She knew...and she understood. Why was that important? He still didn't know, fully, but he knew it mattered. It always had, because no one else seemed to. Deep in the suppressed recess of his mind he knew he felt comforted by that. Someone understood. Meh, why was that important, again? It just...was. She was just able to show exactly how she felt about it all more than he ever could. Granted, he didn't do tears, he had stopped doing that a long time ago. But perhaps that's why something tugged at him when he saw her crying that one time her dad cut his visit short.

Ugh. This is why he didn't do this, this feelings thing. It more than exhausted him. Letting his breath out he made his way to the kitchen and stopped short when he saw the bag of flour sitting at the end of the counter, Lizzie's words echoing in his mind to make a move...

-x-

He'd finally done it. Take his man-card away. He grunted as he made his way up the stairs and when he didn't find her in her room, he directed his feet to the bathroom which was, of course, locked. He took a deep breath and reached out to knock.

"Can I talk to you?"

His voice passed through the wooden door. Painfully, she moved awkwardly to the door, not sure if opening it would be a good idea. Her heart hammered against her chest. Thoughts of the previous encounter were tormenting her mind and her breath kept getting caught up in her throat. As if it had a will of its own, her hand reached for the door knob only to be pulled down quickly by her other one and fall down by her sides.

"...Case, are you there?" The question came out of his lips even when he knew the obvious. His voice sounded almost, pleading? She thought of sneaking out from the window behind the bathtub's curtain, but she had a sprained ankle; while it wasn't a major injury, it still hurt enough to prevent fluid movement, especially that of the escape category; thus, the idea of sneaking out was as bad as Edwin's game of gas.

"Uh...yeah." She heard herself speak.

"Can you open up?...Please..." His voice croaked. The word hit her like a wave. Derek Venturi never used the word 'please'.

His forehead was pressed against the door as he stared at his shoes, a slight hint of nausea began to make itself known. The foreign sensation of his heart beating loudly started to scare him as well as the heat that made its way to his neck and face. Is this how it feels like?

She hesitated. The jerk wanted a talk and despite herself, she found she'd let him. But the thought of letting him in the bathroom with nosy kids watching made her both nervous and annoyed. What would they think?

But they had spoken alone before, in this bathroom as well as in his or her bedroom, alone...so why would they think that anything was going on? Why would this time be any different? She futilely tried to convince her mind of what her gut insisted of knowing better.

Things were different now... His conversations with her, his body language had begun to have a different connotation to them, a subtle language of frustrating mixed signals that hadn't been there before. His words had more weight to them, his actions made her overthink everything even further, if possible. This was Casey McDonald, and if overthinking and she didn't already go hand in hand she knew Derek Venturi would finally make her snap into madness one day.

"Casey!" He insisted in a loud whisper.

"Ah...Just a second!"

Giving up, she limped her way to the sink hoping to wash her face but slipped and fell over the mess of Marti's potions on the floor. Her mouth shaped an O when she internally cringed in pain. Derek jumped at the loud thud.
"Are you ok in there?"

"...Yeah!" She sat up only to hit her head with the sink. "Ow!"

"...You don't sound that good to me.." Derek put his ear next to the door.

"No...I'm fine! Just.. wait a second!"

Still rubbing her head, she finally supported herself on the sink and stood up to wash the leftover marks of flour on her face as quick as she could and dried it out with a towel. Now watching her step, and wincing slightly every time she felt pain in her ankle, she got next to the door and opened it, this time without hesitation. That is until she saw his face, then she repented completely.

He was still wearing his green pajamas. His hair still had some leftover flour on it, but he had washed his face. His eyes were dark with determination and one arm was behind his back as if hiding something. She peeked around making sure no one was watching, she then grabbed his sleeve pulling him in with her and shut the door behind them.

"Wow, Marti sure left a mess in here..." Derek commented with practiced casualness.

"What do you want Derek?" She cut him off with an act of indifference as she crossed her arms expectantly. She hoped she could hear his response for all she could hear was her frantic heart. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would cooperate with him. His right arm was still behind him and a sweet smell surrounded them. Before she could throw him another question, his hidden arm came to view. She was startled by what she saw. He had a petite plate with two disfigured attempts of pancakes, one on top of the other; on the center was a melted square of butter, as honey syrup fell gracefully down over its sides.

"I...I wanted to...I thought I could...you know..." He tried. She stared a him. This was beyond him, he was not used to such disgusting amounts of fluff. Stuttering was usually not a word that checked in his dictionary, either. He felt stupid and apprehensive.

He cleared his throat. After regaining himself, he said the last sentence smoothly and effortlessly.

"...I wanted to apologize about, earlier."

She blinked. Her ankle hurt, her butt hurt, her head hurt but for some reason her brain had decided to ignore all of that. Not only did he come to apologize but he made her pancakes ...or what you could call pancakes, the kitchen business was not his thing after all. There was no way this was real, she must be dreaming, again.

"..I don't know what to say." Her words touched his ears as he stepped closer and put the small plate on the counter of the sink.

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the loud beating of his heart, shyly he reached out for one of her hands and held it nervously. Her eyes went wider if possible. She was beyond stupefied. I'm definitely dreaming...

Her skin tingled at his touch as his thumb drew circles on her palm distractingly. He was surprised, himself.

"I know that... you probably hate me for everything that I've done ever since we met...and I don't blame you for it, I know I'm a dick.." Her eyes made their way from their hands to his piercing eyes. She forgot how to breathe, really.

"First of all, despite of what you think of me, I really, really want you to know that I don't hate-" He tried to step closer when his foot slipped on the mess of shampoo and soap on the floor, causing him to stumble back. He couldn't help holding onto Casey as his feet desperately searched for unpotioned ground only making her cling to him and dance the same awkward waltz.

"Ow, ow, ow" She complained as her ankle resented the extra weight. With a breathless smile that disappeared almost instantly, Derek finally stood firm with Casey still clinging to him, her breath mixing with his. She blushed a dark shade of red when she met her eyes with his. He was dazed for a second staring at her. Shit.

She was the first to wake out of it and desperately tried to get off his arms but his arm snaked firmly around her waist and brought her back against him. Her breath caught in her throat.
Oh...he liked this...His fingers tentatively expanded to encompass more of her back.

He could feel her warmth surrounding him, and yet, he shivered slightly. Her subtle perfume, what was it? Just what flower is it? She nervously licked her lips, his eyes glued to that action. He had determined himself. Bubbles and sticky hair products of Marti's potions would not stop him.

"D-Derek what are you..."

He put his finger on her lips to silence her.

"I...just wanted to tell you...I-"

His free hand reached the back of her head and without hesitation, he showed her what were his intentions. He felt her whole body shiver and for the first time he faded a soft smirk as he reached up to her lips when someone knocked loudly on the door.

Their foreheads clashed and they both groaned in pain. After a moment she finally found her voice.

"Wh-Who is it?" Casey's voice came out weakly. Her hand kept rubbing her forehead momentarily forgetting the fact that she was still in Derek's grasp.

"It's me! Can I come in?" They both heard Marti's voice from the other side of the door.

Damn it! Derek rolled his eyes. His luck was shining that day, he was seconds away from showing Casey what he wanted and ...he realized Marti wasn't the best wingman after all. He quickly let go of her and blushed slightly as he backed away from her.

"...Yeah, hold on a sec..." Casey silently cursed her luck and tried to make her way to the door but, before her hand reached the knob, the thought slapped her coldly, making her blush madly.

I'm in a locked bathroom, supposedly ready to take a shower...and Derek is inside...

If Marti saw that, a great questionnaire was bound to happen...which would lately get to Lizzie's ears...then to Edwin's...then to her step-dad ...and then finally to her mother's.

Marti sure was young, but despite being underestimated, she knew too much. The eight-year-old was very smart and perspicacious. While the semantics of step-sibling relationships would probably go over her head, she surely knew that if people were taking a shower, unless they were little kids, no one else is supposed to be there. Let alone, a guy and a girl.

"Casey? Are you gonna open up?" Marti insisted. In a panic, Casey did the first thing that popped into her head.

Clueless of the risk of the situation, Derek submerged his index finger in the honey syrup on the pancakes to have a taste, when she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him roughly towards the bathtub. His legs tripped with the tub's edge and fell inside with a thud, almost hitting his head with the wall behind him, his shoulders taking the worst of it. He couldn't help the groan of pain that escaped his mouth.

"What was that?" Marti exclaimed from the other side of the door, her voice closer as she pressed her ear on the door.

"Nothing!...I, I hit my ankle again!" Casey groaned but the pitch was clearly nowhere near as low. Derek rolled his eyes as he rubbed his back. Casey gave him an apologetic look as she closed the curtain to hide him. His last consolation was to suck on the honey syrup that was somehow, still on his finger.

"Is.. somebody else... inside?" Marti asked.

"No! No, no. What ma-made you think that! You silly!" Casey laughed to sell it but she was as good a liar as she was good in Sports.

"O-k.." The eight year old replied. Casey slowly limped her way around the mess on the floor and made it to the bathroom door to open it, but as soon as she did, Marti fell inside for having put her ear against the door.

"Hehe, hello.." Marti said with a big smile.

"Um...hi." Casey responded with a smile that shone of nothing but nerves.

Marti stood up and Casey closed the door behind them.


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