NOTES: Oh - first off, I just want to apologize for not answering feedback for the last chapter - I had Internet Issues, and I wasn't able to go online for a couple of days. And then by that time I figured it was a little odd and late to send replies. I'm not usually so rude :( I'm sorry. So I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed - it was really appreciated...and sorry again!
DISCLAIMER: Sometimes I wonder if it's a bit silly doing this in every chapter. It probably is. (Just in case it isn't - I still don't own LWD)
(Before, during and...) Afterwards, it's completely awkward. She dresses quickly, back turned to him, and says brightly, "So, I should go...let Miranda yell at me."
"Yeah – okay," he says, even though the last thing he wants to do is go out there and face Casey again (well, maybe the second last. The last would be going out there and facing Casey...without clothing). He shrugs on his shirt and pants.
When they leave the bedroom though, it doesn't turn out like he expects.
(Honestly, he expects a melodrama. It seems like the kind of situation that calls for overwrought dialogue and lame symbolic rain– plus, Casey McFreaksalot has top billing...and she's an emotional thunderstorm).
But instead of walking into a Scene, the set is practically deserted. Baz is curled up in an armchair – but Baz is basically a human prop, so he counts about as much as the coffee table (and less than the television).
He can hear noise from the kitchen though – the sound of running water, clanking...obviously the Casey clean-up has begun.
"I think she left without me," Laura says, blinking. She shakes her head. "Wow."
"What?" Derek says. "No – maybe she's still in the bathroom?"
She looks at him pityingly (it's the same look she gives him whenever he bums her Media Studies notes, actually), and says, "Yeah – she didn't spend that much time in the bathroom the week she tried bulimia as a lifestyle choice. Plus, her coat's gone." She makes a face. "I've been ditched."
She doesn't sound upset, or whiny, just matter of fact.
It turns out she doesn't live that far away, so Derek walks her home. And it's not even as awkward as it could be, because Laura keeps telling stories (or maybe just one really long story – he doesn't know) about her friend Miranda, until finally, they're at her doorstep.
"...found out it was her little brother all along – and this is my stop," she says, without taking a breath. She digs in her handbag for her keys, then says, without looking at him, "So...um...tonight was – thanks. It was really – thanks."
And what is he supposed to say to that? (No problem? Anytime? All part of the deluxe service?).
He ends up not saying anything ('You're welcome' feels wrong – like he just passed her the salt or something).
"I guess I'll see you in Media Studies," Laura says as she fits her key in the lock.
"Yeah," he says. "I'll see you."
(The door's already closing).
Walking back, he tries to be positive.
(On the bright side, he's definitely got two of the 'Seven Things You Wish He Knew About Sex' figured out).
(On the not-so-bright side, he can't bring himself to care).
When he opens the door, there's been another scene change. Baz is nowhere to be found, and Jerry is sprawled out on the couch, tie undone (Casey had insisted), and head tipped back. He opens his eyes and squints at Derek. "Hey man," he says, and grins. "Great party, huh?"
(Yeah. It was all kinds of running-jump-off-a-balcony awesome).
"Where's Casey?" he can't help asking.
"Hm? Oh, she was tired, so Baz took her home."
He pushes down whatever feeling (relief? Disappointment?) he's feeling and props himself on the arm of the couch. When he blinks, his eyes feel gritty and sore.
Jerry sits up and reaches for the beer on the coffee table. He takes a sip, then says, "You must be feeling tired yourself." He waggles his eyebrows significantly, and Derek tries not to flinch (and fails).
"Seriously, man, you have got to give me some pointers. I mean, not only did you score, but Casey had to stop that other girl from stabbing herself with a toothpick when she found out."
The words are like fingers, poking and jabbing at him. He's starting to think Miranda had the right idea (impalement by toothpick is sounding better by the second).
Jerry pulls off his tie and lets it drop onto the couch. "She was kind of hot," he says thoughtfully.
Derek looks at him.
"Not that – your girl was cool too. Though I gotta say, I wouldn't have thought she was your type." He shakes his head, grinning. "I did kind of wonder if I should check on you guys, make sure she didn't like, crush you or anything..."
He must have been born six foot two. It's the only explanation Derek can come up with as to why Jerry and Tact have never been formally (or physically) introduced.
"Shit," he says suddenly. "Sorry, man. Casey would kill me – I didn't mean...your girl seemed cool. What's that word" – he snaps his fingers together and frowns, "– you know, that nice word for chubby chicks?"
Derek stares.
"Curvy," Jerry says, and points his index finger. "That's it. She was curvy."
(Seriously – this is the guy Casey wants to have a meaningful relationship with?)
"And she probably has a great personality too."
(Yeah, because if tonight has proved anything, it's that Derek Venturi is the prize in the cereal box).
He swallows hard and gets to his feet, "I'm going to bed."
"Yeah, I'm beat," Jerry agrees. He stands and stretches. "You know, when Casey first said it, I thought this elegant soufflé thing was going to be a real drag." He runs a hand through his hair, and yawns. "I really got that wrong, huh?"
He doesn't sleep very well, and he drags himself through the next day (his life is suddenly moving in slow motion) and tries to figure out what happens next. The only thing that he can say with certainty is that Casey's going to want an explanation (he could pretend that's because he's special – but really, it's because she's Casey. And it's lame to pretend otherwise). He gears up for this (checks his brake-fluid and airbags) because he knows it's not going to be an ordinary collision (it's going to be a no-holds-barred, driver-cut-from-wreckage kind of deal).
Except...the next few days are completely Casey-free.
"I dunno – she said something about..." Jerry scrunches up his face, trying to remember, "work, I think. Or was it something about magazines? Maybe detoxing?" He sighs. "It's Casey," he says, as if that's explanation enough (and it almost is).
Whatever the reason – and it changes every time Derek asks (which he doesn't), the result is the same. An unexpected absence of Casey. And he's always believed that an unexpected absence of Casey (like an unexpected release from the nagging pain of toothache) should be celebrated. And he sees no reason for this to change, just because he and Casey were...whatever they were (which they aren't now, anyway). Plus, he's dodged a Casey-lecture about Women (subtitle: Treating Them With Respect, addendum: You're Disgusting, Derek) – he should be celebrating even harder. And he is.
He lets dishes pile up in the sink.
He tracks crumbs into the carpet.
He blasts his music when he gets home from classes.
He arranges dates with girls (just to prove he can), then finds lame excuses to cancel (just to prove –yeah, he hasn't figured that part out).
(It's great. Completely great).
(And not like living in a silent movie at all).
"Don't get me wrong, man," Jerry says, blowing out his breath in exasperation, "I like her. I do. She's, you know...neat."
(Jerry's scraping the bottom of the barrel if 'obsessive-compulsive' is the best compliment he's got).
" – thorough, and she makes good cake," he continues. "But – she's a lot of work."
Of course she is. (She's a double shift without a coffee-break. She's, you know, Casey).
" – down to her now. I am done running. I guess what I'm trying to say is..." he looks at Derek appealingly, "Don't let me call her. Even if I really want to. Slap the phone out of my hand if you need to."
Derek considers this. "Can do."
Funny though, he never has to yank Jerry's cell phone away from him. Derek, on the other hand, picks up this habit of scrolling down his list of contacts, to Casey's name. Sometimes his thumb hovers over the call button, but he never actually presses it.
(He asked. He asked, and she basically answered with 'How do I say no? Let me count the ways'. It doesn't leave a lot of room for misinterpretation).
See he's never been averse to taking risks...once he's fairly sure the odds are in his favor.
But.
Long shot doesn't even begin to describe this.
In his next Media Studies class, Laura plops down next to him and says (like they're already in the middle of a conversation), "So, she's still not talking to me."
He blinks. "Who?" He's a little distracted by the change in routine (...or stupidity is an air-borne disease and he really needs to find a new room-mate).
"Miranda?" she says, and raises her eyebrows at him.
"Okay?" he tries (this concerns him because...?).
"She's never gone off on me like that before. Like I'm the enemy, or this big threat or something." She scrawls absently on the cover of her notebook, and Derek hopes she's not going to cry.
"Actually," she says, and the corners of her mouth quirk up, "It's kind of cool."
(He doesn't get it).
When Jerry comes into the kitchen, Derek can tell that something is up. Mostly because Jerry says, "D, please tell me you have plans tonight."
"I have plans tonight," he says obligingly. (Plans he's planning on cancelling, but...).
"Great!" Jerry says and rubs his hands together. "Casey's coming over to watch a movie...and I kind of promised her you wouldn't be here."
The thump his heart gives isn't weird or sappy (it's a normal directorial response to forward momentum, that's all).
"Casey's – here? Casey's coming here?" he asks.
"Yeah," Jerry says, "And it is on. It is very much on, my friend."
The way he says that makes Derek want to demand that Jerry turn whatever 'it' is, off. Immediately.
"I thought you were done. You said you were done," he says instead.
"Yeah, but...She said she was sorry for flaking out – and that she wants to, and I quote, 'get serious'." Jerry punctuates this with raised eyebrows.
'Get serious' in Casey-speak probably means she wants Jerry to write a poem, or get involved in some Casey-cause (hopeless, of course), or memorize a list of Casey-trivia. Figuring out what Casey wants is a game that requires skill and strategy – there's no way 'sitting and eating cake' qualifies Jerry for the Topless Level.
(Derek isn't entirely sure how he got to that level. The best he can come up with is that he inadvertently entered a cheat code and short-circuited the family-friendly user interface).
"And you think that that means..." Derek squeezes out a sound that could be mistaken for a laugh (there's no way Jerry is progressing, but it burns that he's still playing).
"Dude, I don't think –" (no argument there), "– I know. She says she thinks we can 'go the distance.'"
There's a moment where Jerry stands there, stupid grin on his face, perfectly still...while the cabinets behind him seem to rush forward, towards Derek (like a contra-zoom. It makes his stomach lurch). He blinks, and the spinning stops.
(No).
"She – said that?"
(Just – no).
Jerry's grin gets wider, and he says, "So you won't mind finding somewhere else to hang for a few hours?"
(Sure. Just pass him a rope and he'll find a convenient branch).
Derek swallows. "Sure thing," he says.
"Appreciated," Jerry says, and claps him on the shoulder before he leaves the kitchen.
Derek waits until he's safely out of earshot before he phones Sara and cancels their date.
(No way is he following this script. He's calling for a rewrite).
When the doorbell rings, he's ready. He takes a deep breath before he opens the door and says, "Ca-Sara?"
"I came to see how you were feeling," Sara says. She looks him up and down. "Agonising stomach cramps look good on you, by the way."
Jerry chooses this particular moment to make his entrance, air-freshener in hand. "D, is that your date?" He continues without waiting for an answer, "Have a great time somewhere that isn't here, you guys!"
Jerry spritzes something offensively flowery, then frowns down at the carpet.
Sara crosses her arms and her eyes narrow. In a very calm voice she says, "Excuse me – did you cancel our date...so that you could hook up with some other girl?"
No – he'd cancelled to prevent 'some other girl' from hooking up with his room-mate (he's a one man Silver Ring Thing).
"Is there a problem?" Jerry asks, now kneeling on the floor picking up bits of crud.
Derek closes his eyes, takes a deep breath – then steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him. He looks at Sara, arms still folded and head tilted, and sighs. The truth belongs in Ripley's Believe It or Not, so he opts for the (ancient and dog-eared) script.
"I can explain," he offers (and that line is so tired it's practically stifling a yawn). He waits expectantly for the indignant interruption, possibly followed (or preceded) by a slap.
"Great!" she says instead.
(Seriously, doesn't anyone follow the script anymore?)
So he tries to persuade her to leave (and by 'tries' he means 'does everything short of storyboarding how this scene is supposed to go'), but it turns out that Sara has raised obliviousness to an art form (why does that seem familiar?).
She chirps, "Now that you've explained it, I wouldn't dream of leaving! Though, you should have just said. Looking out for your stepsister – that's really sweet."
(Yeah. Now he's just got to convince Casey of that).
Sara breezes past him and into the living room. She plops down onto the couch and smiles at Jerry. "So, what are we watching?" she asks.
(And just like that, Derek's got a screwball comedy on his hands. It's everything he never wanted, and more).
Fifteen minutes later, a defeated Jerry peers at her from the safety of the kitchen. "Dude," he says, exasperated, "I have dropped like, ten major hints, and nothing. Not to criticize, but – she's kind of dumb." He sighs and predicts, "Casey is going to be pissed."
"Why would I care?" Casey says. She's just standing there, arms folded. It's not a striking pose. Her clothes are typical workout wear. Her hair is tied back in a nothing-special ponytail.
(And Derek's eyes are glued to her).
"...Because you told me that you wanted a Derek-free date," Jerry says. "You said" –
(His stomach is twisted up, squeezed like a dishrag).
"I don't care," she interrupts, sending contradictory eye-beams of death in Derek's direction. (This feeling lodged in his chest? It's the polar opposite of good...but it's still a million times better than the radio silence of the last few days).
"I don't care what Derek does," she continues. "It doesn't matter to me. Why would it matter to me? I am completely indifferent to –"
"Yeah. Okay. Why don't we just – watch the movie," Jerry says, raking his hand through his hair. He sounds tired.
So he watches Casey watch a movie about dancing. And probably about achieving unrealistic goals and overcoming impossible odds (they're always about achieving unrealistic goals and overcoming impossible odds).
This leads to –
"No way!" Jerry says, good humor suddenly restored by –
"Watch." Casey smiles at him and then flicks a look in Derek's direction, too quickly for him to do anything but register it. She pushes the coffee table out of the way. Then she bends forward, palms flat on the floor and –
"Wow," Sara blinks at her.
"You can walk on your hands!" Jerry stares. "You are the coolest girlfriend ever!"
Casey smiles an upside-down smile before gracefully getting back on her feet. She beams at Jerry, who looks at her, awestruck.
"Yeah – she got attention for all the wrong reasons in high school," Derek says loudly, causing Casey's eyes to snap onto his and (oh, look at that, away from Jerry). "It was like living with a monkey."
"Well, I was just trying to make a knuckle-dragger like you feel at home," she retorts.
"That is seriously impressive," Sara says. "I mean, I can't even touch my toes."
And of course, that's the cue for Casey to show off her moves. Sara claps and Jerry's practically drooling. Casey just keeps moving, face serene, not looking at anyone.
Derek watches her – legs scissoring, the fluid, confident motions of her arms –
(...and he has this fantasy. The room is dark until the spotlight comes up, and then Casey's in front of him, eyes locked on his, and she's dancing for him – just for him. She's pulling out all the stops, she's literally bending over backwards to please him, but he's going to hold out for as long as he can. He's going to make her earn that tip).
He tilts his chin and watches her, and pretends that she's dancing for him, and it helps.
Logically, the dancing movie is followed by a movie about terminal illness. Casey makes it to the unsuccessful transplant (the kidney is rejected...and how messed up is it that Derek is sympathizing with an organ?) before she has to take an emergency tissue break.
Derek waits an insanely long amount of time – two, maybe even three minutes (yeah, okay – but they're slow motion minutes), before following her. Sara seems fascinated by the happenings onscreen (the mother can cry and chew scenery at the same time), while Jerry is absorbed with the bowl of popcorn, so he doesn't even need to mumble something about getting a drink.
He waits outside the bathroom until she emerges, still dabbing under her eyes. She stops when she sees him.
(He has words – he always has words, even if they're never the Hallmark-approved right ones).
"What do you want?" she asks. (The question's so loaded he can practically hear the safety clicking off, but her tone is flat, uninterested).
"Look – I'm not saying the silent treatment wasn't a nice touch, and I definitely appreciated it," (the way he appreciates a powerplay from an opposing team), "but we both know you're just dying to yell at me, so why don't you just do it and get it over with?"
"Why would I yell at you?" she asks, puffy eyed and dispassionate.
"Because it's what you do!" His voice raises (someone has to remind her how this whole fighting thing works). He takes a breath. "And – I just figured...after the party" –
"Oh yeah. The party," she repeats, cutting him off. "I forgot. Let's see," she says levelly. "You shouldn't have used Jerry's birthday as an excuse to throw yourself a party. It was a horrible, insensitive and immature thing to do." She shrugs slightly. "Happy now?"
Before he knows he's going to do it, he takes a step to the left, blocking her exit.
"That's it?" he asks, staring her down.
(Please – Derek's come up with better material, and he never goes on guilt trips. Casey's the one who always packs the picnic and insists on taking the scenic route).
"Do you mind?" she gestures around him. He doesn't budge.
"That's the best you can come up with?"
She looks him straight in the eye, and she says, "I don't know what you were expecting." She takes a breath (and he tenses, completely unprepared for the hit he knows is coming). "It's not like I have anything to say to you."
(Where's the ref? He's bleeding on the ice, here).
It doesn't matter that it is (has to be) a lie. Because Casey and him? They talk over each other, they talk down to each other, they backtalk and talk-back and talk at each other...but they've always got something to say.
"Are you going to move?" she asks.
He does – and there's a completely logical reason why it's towards her (and it's not even the obvious one).
She's stiff in his arms, but that just makes him tighten his grip.
Really, it's got nothing to do with what he wants. It's his body. It's like learning how to ride a bike. Once you've learned it, you can't unlearn it. His body just...knows what to do when he's near Casey's body.
(This isn't love – it's muscle memory).
The flat, even tone is gone when she says (almost whispers) "What are you doing?"
He buries his face in her neck, and his hands stroke over her back, her hips, her stomach...
(Here's the thing – he's always had a smart mouth. The problem is, his hands are totally sincere).
Every brush of his fingertips is saying 'Pick me' – but Casey grabs his wrists, and steps back. She says, insistently, "What are you doing?"
She has to feel it too, because the fake calm maturity is gone. Her breathing has speeded up and she's not looking through him anymore, she's looking at him.
"What" – she repeats, and this time the tone (God, he hates that tone) is creeping back.
Casey's good with words – but words aren't the only way to make a point – and if he has to use his body to keep her off balance (to show her)...well, he's prepared to use every advantage he has.
He kisses her. And there's no way, no way she can tell him there's nothing there – not when she's kissing him back, hot and desperate, hands cupping his face.
And, see – that's probably enough. Point made. But he's Derek Venturi, and he's just got to push it – sliding one hand into her pants and making her bite her lip. She makes these high pitched noises that aren't anything but funny (so why do they make him shiver?), and she has this look on her face – eyes closed, frowning (and it's so Casey it makes something inside him twist).
It's over too fast – she grabs onto his shoulders and her head jerks back and –
Jerry calls – "Hey, Case – you get flushed away or something?"
They jump apart at the sound of his voice, and Casey looks at him for a long moment, wide-eyed, before pushing past him and making her way back to the living room. He follows a few seconds later.
(The rest of movie night is kind of an...anti-climax).
The next evening, Derek figures Jerry has taekwondo or tenko or judo or juggling or something, because he doesn't show until late.
But the slam of the door when Jerry does return suggests he might be wrong. That, and the fact that Jerry's first words are – "Dude – no offence, but your stepsister? Is crazy." He pulls his bag off his shoulder, drops it, then kicks it across the floor. He leans on the back of the couch, digging his fingers into the fabric.
"What did she do?" he asks (and he doesn't expect...but he's never seen Jerry look like this)
Jerry raises his head to look at him, mouth in a hard line. "The on-off, I like you but I'm saving myself until – until people can like, breathe underwater thing? That was bad enough, but this...?" he trails off, and shakes his head. "She broke up with me. Can you believe that?"
(Believe it? As Jerry speaks, he's mentally sacrificing a goat in thanksgiving).
"I put up with the whole 'look but don't touch' thing for like, weeks, and she's the one who decides to break up?" He stares at Derek, a look of utter confusion on his face.
"That's rough," Derek says, schooling his face into guilelessness. "She – uh, didn't happen to mention why she tossed you to the curb?"
"Dude – right now? I really don't care." He sounds like he means it. "I have wasted enough of my time on her. It's like Baz says – she's cute and all, but there are lots of cute girls, and most of them? Are totally compost mental –"
(...Again – Casey seriously dated this guy?).
" – matter of fact, we are going to get drunk, and find some of those girls." He stops, then says, almost apologetically, "I'd ask you to come, but you're her stepbrother and – I kind of need to vent. No offence man – but you've got a conflict of interest."
(...that's one way to describe it).
Ten minutes later, and Derek's got the place to himself. He picks his cell phone, and makes his way down the list of contacts to Casey's name. But this time, he hits the call button. He gets her voicemail, but that's okay – he leaves a message.
And waits.
