A/N: Really sorry for the long hiatus! I wanted to enjoy my first month out of school (graduating in May, yay) by relaxing, so I kind of put this aside for a bit. But anyway, I'm back! How's everyone doing?
Thank you for the amazing reviews, you guys. I'm so happy that you're liking the story so far! I'm finding it hard to get back to my writing mode, so I apologize in advance if it's not up to par. But, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own LWD, Twitter, or any of the other trademarks. Tweets in this chapter are owned by me. Matthew is also my added character. Few of dialogues are inspired by the Twitter Dasey - LifeWithCasey and DerekVenturi.
Chapter 7: The Shortest Route to the Mall is through a Pancake Fight
"Morning, sleepyhead."
Casey wiped her eyes and blinked a couple of times before she could fully recognize the identity of the figure standing behind the kitchen island. She already knew who it was, judging from the voice she just heard; but then again, him plus cooking plus mornings plus weekends equals undefined, syntax error, or maybe the limit does not exist. Kind of like dividing by zero (Read: asymptote). Whatever made him defy the laws of Physics by going against gravity in the wee hours of the morning must be pretty darn life-changing.
Shaking her head quickly to get rid of the math equations forming in her mind, she walked towards the kitchen.
It wasn't like it was really weird. Okay, so it was. He wasn't exactly the first person she would like to see the morning after the unfortunate close-to-confession failure that made her whole night uncomfortable. She really wanted some space, a little room to breathe, but seeing as that wish wouldn't be granted in this shared abode of theirs, what else could she do? She was finding it hard to deal with this issue, but she had no other choice than to go with the flow. It was the right thing to do, especially now that she was convinced that whatever it was that she was feeling, it was never requited. He made it clear last night, she is family to him. She finally understood what that expression in his eyes were all along – pity. It was never what she had hoped for.
Letting out a heavy sigh in remembrance of the embarrassment she had brought upon herself, she tried her best to look normal and unaffected.
"Wow, you're up early," she said as she made her way to the opposite end of the island and sat on a stool, not forgetting the fact that this was still Derek and he was busying himself at this time of day. "Way too early."
"Yep. I figured, if I'm going to make your pancakes, I need to wake up earlier," replied Derek who just stuffed another chunk of pancake in his mouth as he continued to flip the rest on the griddle.
Casey snorted as she thought of how he would really need hours of practice and hundred dollars worth of pancake batter in order for him to produce anything remotely close to acceptable. Derek, who was observing her mental trip to outer space, narrowed his eyes before completely rolling them. He just knew she had silently insulted him in her mind.
"Here, I made you your favorite," he pushed the plate with stacked pancakes in front of her.
Ugh. She couldn't stop the involuntary upward curving of her lips. Despite what happened last night, she couldn't help but still feel the butterflies in her stomach, crashing the walls wildly beyond her control. What was he doing, trying to be all nice to her? Well, he's being very brotherly, what else could he be doing? It was the second time that week that he did something that she, in her romantic nature, considered as 'sweet'. Of course, this was all part of the bet and he was obviously just forced to oblige, but he didn't have to make the extra effort to cook her favorite kind of pancake: blueber–
"Der-ek, these are chocolate chip pancakes! These are YOUR favorite!"
"Oh, that's right. You're the 'blueberry pancake' type of person," he snickered in satisfaction upon hearing her expected response, grabbing the plate back and positioning it beside the griddle again. "Well, guess I'll have to finish this up for you. Wouldn't want it to go to waste now, would we?"
"Unbelievable. Whatever happened to cooking pancakes for ME?" Casey rolled her eyes and huffed in disbelief. Of course, he had to be the usual Derek. His nice phase doesn't even last longer than five minutes! The universe had finally gotten back to its former balanced state.
"For the record, I never said 'loser needs to cook pancakes for the winner'. I said 'loser needs to cook pancakes tomorrow'. So, technically, I don't owe you anything," he retorted, taking the plate and waving it in front of her face.
"You slimy, sly twister of words," she glared at him and pursed her lips.
"What do you know, even when I lose, I still win," he smirked as he flipped the last of the chocolate chip pancakes high up in the air and made it land perfectly on the stack he was holding. "And it sticks the landing!"
Derek's perfect pancake-catching moment got immediately interrupted by Casey who had just gone to other side to push him away from the cooking area, "Move."
"No, no. I got it. Prepare the batter. I'll make the pancakes," he said as he put the plate down, walked around her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her in front of the fridge as a signal for her to get the pack of blueberries.
It tingled. The sensation brought about by his palms resting on her shoulders made her shiver. And even though it was momentary, Casey couldn't help but hold her breath while mentally slapping herself for entertaining thoughts and feelings that clearly her brother made sure he had no business dealing with. She rolled her eyes as she proceeded to open the fridge door. Sometimes, she just didn't get him at all. So, was this 'okay with each other' clause a good reason to be cooperative now? Well, at least he's insistent in making her pancakes. Part of the bet, why else?
"Where's everybody?" She asked while placing the blueberries on the island and readying the ingredients for the batter.
"In the basement, I tied them all up. I don't want to be disturbed," he casually replied before shoving an entire flapjack in his mouth, as if his reply wasn't weird.
"De-rek," she scolded him while pouring the pancake mix into a bowl.
"Wall summone wokupron wongsadoff dubed," he mumbled over a mouthful of pancake, crumbs spraying on the counter as he spoke.
Casey lifted the bowl away from the direction of the landing cake crumbs and stared at him in disgust. "Ew! How about not talking while your mouth is full?"
"Pft," he continued chewing obnoxiously.
"I didn't even want to wake up because I'm gonna have to see your face again," she sassed back, a bit intrigued that she could understand all that grumble perfectly.
"Ouch," Derek replied after gulping the last of his mouth's contents, quickly placing his palm against his chest and feigning hurt. "That's not a way to talk to the mystery person in your poem."
"Don't remind me," Casey rolled her eyes as she remembered the night before, feeling a sudden rush of heat creeping across her cheeks. She kept her gaze down on the mixing bowl so that he wouldn't notice what effect this memory had on her. Why is he even bringing that up? This is not helping the 'siblingship' we're supposed to have. So what if I wrote that? It will never happen again. She sighed and nodded to herself in agreement with her thoughts.
"I don't have to. I wrote it in your planner for every single Monday for the rest of the year," he replied teasingly, beaming her a wide grin.
"Der-ek! Do have nothing else to do with your life? You went inside my room again?"
"Maybe."
Putting a sudden pause to what she was currently doing, Casey started to make a mad dash for the stairs to check his claims for herself, but Derek's reflexes acted faster than the motions of her feet, grabbing her arm and halting her right there and then.
"I didn't!" he mentioned in his defense, using his grip to pull her closer. "I think I've had enough prying in your secret vault to last me for decades."
"If you'll last that long," she jerked her arm away to remove his hold and continued on with her previous activity.
"What? You're plotting my death now, too?" He responded as he faced her, placing his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles, eyebrow raised and lips pouted.
"Done already. It's in my planner," she answered without looking at him, not very eager to see him sporting his goofy grin or wearing his infamous smirk at that moment.
"Remind me to tear that page later."
Casey merely shook her head and didn't bother replying to this nonsense. If there's anything that she wanted at that point in time, that's to finish this whole bet situation that she had the misfortune of ever participating with the eldest Venturi spawn. It was hard enough to be in the same place with him, alone, and his presence inches away from where she stood. It was hard enough that she was being plagued by thoughts of what-ifs and maybes with regard to his unusual anti-nocturnal actions, or should she say, anti-Derek actions in the last hour or so of them together downstairs. Sure, he was still a jerk, that had always been a given. But her intuition was telling her that this was weird. That any minute now, he should be receiving a huge, deadly zap from the heavens if he didn't revert to his normal early morning routine of lying in his bed and dozing off until sometime in the afternoon. There was something else going on. She knew him, and this wasn't a common occurrence. So, there could be only one explanation for this - everybody else was up already. Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe George planned a surprise weekend family trip and he forced him up to get up early. Yeah, that definitely makes sense. Any minute now, Mom will come up and tell me to get ready. Ugh, I don't even know if I want to go.
"So, where are we going today?" She curiously inquired.
"What?"
Casey ignored his confusion as she continued voicing out her train of thoughts, ".. oh, but I promised Emily we'd watch a movie later this afternoon."
"What are you talking about?" Derek scrunched his eyebrows and tried hard to remember if he had even set a.. hangout thing with Casey. What, was I 'sleep planning' now?
"I'm talking about George's weekend trip plan. That's why you're up." She cleared, glancing at him.
"Huh?"
".. question is, why didn't they wake me first?" Casey stared into the empty space in front of her and carried on thinking aloud.
"Okay, you really need to stop doing that. It's weird."
Casey answered it with an eye roll. "Seriously though, where's everyone?"
"Haven't you seen the clock? It's six a.m., on a Saturday. They're not yet up."
"Oh-kay," Casey mouthed in wonder, scratching the trip thought off her imaginary list. "And you're up at six, because?"
Derek stiffened. He hated questions like this, questions that caught him off guard. He wasn't expecting her to even query his presence in the kitchen. A guy plus a room full of food - that should add up quite well in that supposedly smart brain of hers. What's with the asking? It's my body. I think I can get up whenever I want to. Besides, why is she even downstairs? Not part of my day plan. His eyeballs hurriedly scanned for something that he could use as an inspiration for formulating a very articulate and well thought out answer. And he had found it.
"I'm making pancakes, duh? I said that a while ago," he answered as his gaze landed on the stack of pancakes which he then pulled nearer to grab another piece. "If I only knew you were going to forget about that, I would've stayed in bed until lunch time. Sheesh."
"Oh please, not even pancake-making would make you wake up at six on any day, let alone, a Saturday."
What is this? Q&A Part Dos? He pursued his lips as he tried to come up with a better alibi. He couldn't help but feel nauseous lately with all these questions that oddly made him wish he had the ability to disappear and reappear somewhere else. See, it was fine when they're bickering or teasing each other; that was normal. Insulting and almost killing each other if not for familial intervention, very normal. But all these yee questions that he didn't even know where she had been getting from or keeping in were making him squirm. Especially last night's questions. He was definitely lucky to be still alive after being grilled in the hot seat. A+ in the science of evasiveness, really. But also A+ in the art of being moronic and dunce. Casey looked hurt. But what could he do? He didn't want to hear the rest of the poem. He wasn't ready to know what she really wanted to say.
"Maybe because my inconvenience of a stepsister slept with her bagpipes again," he retorted. "Dad should really put soundproof walls in my room. And that vent, not helping."
Casey sighed. She knew this conversation would never take the easy road. As if there was even an 'easy road' when it came to him. "Can't sleep, huh?"
"Are you done with that batter yet? You put a turtle to shame with your slowness."
There was verbal silence in the room for a couple of minutes - minutes that seemed very long and painstakingly awkward. No words, just the sound of the whisk occasionally hitting the sides and the bottom of the bowl as Casey whipped the batter to an even consistency. Derek was watching her work, surprisingly silent. He was somehow relieved that she wasn't looking up and staring back at him. There had been numerous times in the past already when he would stop whatever he was doing just to watch Casey do kitchen work. But, he didn't remember ever being this close. And there's no arguing. Just silence. There was something about her cooking that was making his stomach feel like being tied into a tight knot. Not hunger, no. Not that she was a horrible cook, no. She's Casserole Casey, she's really good. He wondered of how many more times he would wake up in the morning to her making breakfast, clad in her pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers, hair slightly messed up, but nevertheless looking.. like Casey. Mornings when he would come to the kitchen and see her making food for him. Mornings when she would greet him with a smile and ask if he slept well. Mornings when he would go behind her, wrap his arms around her waist, and rest his chin on her shoulder. What?
"Matthew called me yesterday afternoon," Casey started, aware that he was watching her but wasn't sure if he was more interested in her pancake batter or the extra blueberries sitting on the counter. "You know, Emily's friend.. the one I was supposed to go on a date with, if not for your prank?"
Blinking his eyes to take his mind back to earth, Derek left his spot and drew closer to the griddle to turn it on and heat it up. He was silent for a few seconds, and Casey started to doubt that he even heard what she said. His face seemed tense, his jaws clenching, and she began to think if she had said something wrong.
"Okay?" He finally answered. "Why are we talking about this?"
"Well.. I don't know. Just thought I'd let you know," she responded, tapping the whisk against the side of the bowl to free the excess batter sticking on it and glancing at his face to see if his expression had changed or lightened up. Apparently not.
"Do I look like a diary to you? Do I look like I have a 'tell me all your secrets because I care' sign on my forehead?" He argued, pointing to his temples. He then took the bowl from her hands and poured the batter on the dispenser.
"I thought we're okay with each other?"
"Sure, but we're not best friends. Aren't you supposed to be bugging Emily about this?"
"Yeah, well.. I'm just saying.."
"What do you want me to do? Go all.. Oh really, girl? Oh my god, that's so like totally awesome! He's so hot! You should go out with him! AHH!" Derek parodied, making high-pitched noises and fanning his mouth with his fingers.
"We don't sound like that!" She scoffed in protest.
"Sure, you don't," he sarcastically replied as he flipped the cakes he had poured through the dispenser earlier.
"So, we're back to the same old bickering, I'm assuming," she stated, trying to calm her nerves.
Derek didn't reply. Silence overcame the entire room once again, and this time, it wasn't awkward. It was full of tension. Like someone could drop a pin on the floor and the whole house would explode. Like any one could come in the kitchen and ask for breakfast, and they'd angrily scream and leap forward to attack. Luckily, there was no pin around and there was definitely no one coming any time soon. So, there was only silence. One would wonder if they decided to have a mental duel and kill each other in their brains. Their movements were very limited, as if one wrong move and they'd find themselves on top of each other, both holding one by the neck. The tension lasted for a few minutes before either of them eased up and started acting more normal and less guarded.
"I'm taking Marti to the mall tomorrow," Derek decided to speak.
"Well, that's a shocker," Casey grabbed a fork to try out the ones that he had already stacked up on the plate.
"She made me swear last week and Dad gave me the 'or else', so what can I do?" He simply shrugged.
"Right. As if you don't have any ulterior motives at all," she replied, clearly unconvinced.
"Bingo! Well, it's been a few days since I've last had a date. So, might score some hot blonde chicks there. Girls dig the 'caring older brother' type of guy," he proudly announced, doing his trademark wink-tsk-tsk-point gesture after.
It was Casey's turn to tense up. And although she realized that Derek's pancake cooking could pass her standards, she just lost all her appetite and maybe a few tastebuds along with it.
"What a gallant knight, you are. Using your little sister to harvest some ditzy gals on the field. How about a Nobel Prize for your efforts?"
"Ha-Ha. Is there a Nobel Prize for failed sarcasm? 'Cause I'd like to nominate your jealousy."
Her eyes shot wide open and her jaw dropped rock bottom in disbelief. "Uh, excuse me? I am not jeal-"
"Fine, then why don't you take her to the mall?"
"Oh, now you're just trying to get out of your obligation," Casey held out her hand in front of her in disagreement. "Not happening, bro."
"Whatever you say, sis," Derek sneered.
"Der-ek! Flip it already! You're burning it."
"No, don't disturb me when I'm cooking! I got this."
"Give me that spatula, I'll do it myself."
"Stop!"
It wasn't like it wasn't normal. It very much was. The two eldest step siblings engaged in a tug-of-war battle, both hands gripping the handle of the spatula. Derek, being the one with more strength, tried to pull the utensil closer to the griddle while Casey tugged it towards her. He managed to slide it under the nearly burnt pancake, but since Casey was dragging it stubbornly, the pancake landed on the floor. Grunting in frustration, he bent down and used the spatula, which she had finally released from her tight hold, to launch the food upward. Whether he was planning for this or not, it hit Casey straight in the face. Moments later, crumbs of pancake were sent flying in the air as the two assumed fighting by throwing the rest of the stack at each other. It wasn't long before blueberries and eggs joined the mix as they continue brewing this recipe of theirs - recipe for disaster, that is.
"What's this commotion all about?" Nora looked around the place, seeing the mess that the two created. George couldn't help but clench his jaw and shake his head when he accidentally stepped on an already cracked egg, its yolk now sticking on the sole of his slipper.
The groggy and confused couple had walked in on their heated food fight, seeing Derek pushing Casey against the wall, holding her by the wrist, and Casey holding the spatula horizontally against his chest.
"Nothing," they both said at the same time, straightening up and trying to tidy themselves. Casey bit her lower lip. Derek kicked the empty box of eggs behind him.
"Don't you two ever give each other a break? Fighting in the wee hours of the morning?" George stared at the two whose eyes were averted somewhere else, Casey being the more agitated of the two.
"Everyone else in the house is still sleeping. We don't even know why you're down here making pancakes," Nora raised her voice, pointing her finger at the griddle and the mess on top of the counter.
"Or trashing the kitchen," George added.
"But Derek started it!" Casey stepped out and defended herself.
"What? It was an accident!" Derek scowled, looking at Casey and then at their parents.
"No, it wasn't! You flung it right on my face!" Casey turned around and lifted her hands to push him again, which Derek grabbed and kept from advancing towards him.
"Cut it out!" George scolded them. The two let go of each other and moved farther away to put a huge gap between them. "Derek, you stop your childish act and quit playing with food."
"How is making pancakes even childish? If anything, I should be looking more mature right now, because I think I can cook better than you," Derek smirked and folded his arms across his chest.
"Oh yeah?" George, obviously not amused at his backtalk, widened his eyes and mirrored his son's arm-crossing action.
"Yep," Derek nodded once.
"How about this for 'looking more mature'? You're not taking Marti to the mall tomorrow, you're taking her today."
"Wha- But, Dad!" Derek objected in a flash.
"Enough, cancel whatever you have planned this afternoon," George hushed him.
"Ha-ha!" Casey directed two mockingly annoying syllables at her stepbrother, quite pleased with how the situation had been proceeding. Derek gave her his 'not amused' look and sneered back.
"Don't 'ha-ha' him, young lady, you're going with them," Nora immediately told her daughter, making Casey wipe the winning grin off her face.
"What!" Casey blurted while Derek waved his finger in the air and ranted, "Oh, you are not serious!"
Derek animatedly began his tirade, "It's bad enough that I'm being forced to ditch my planned hangout with my friends! Do I really need to suffer more? All this for cooking pancakes?" Casey burst out her own concern simultaneously, "I'm hanging out with Emily today! We're watching a movie together! I'm not passing that up to be with Derek..!"
".. even though it would be nice to spend time with Marti," Casey finished last.
"Oh, you heard her! Make her take Marti to the mall!" Derek quickly pointed his finger at Casey in dire attempt to convince them.
"Zip it," George answered.
"I'm not going to the mall with Casey! She's gonna drag me to one of those really girly stores like.. Victoria's Secret to buy bras!" Derek stepped even closer to the couple to plead his case further.
"Excuse me? I will not buy undergarments when I'm around a PIG like you!" Casey shot him her death glare, fist clenched and cheeks red from embarrassment. She wanted to strangle him to death that instant.
".. she's going to try out some of the lacy ones and make me pick which one looks best on her," He continued scowling, ignoring her words.
"Oh my god, Der-ek! I would never do that!" Casey couldn't believe he was saying these things in front of them. It was like announcing to the whole student body that she was having her period. Which he would totally do if that evil thought came across his evil mind. Lowbred, pompous buffoon!
".. Dad, don't torture me like this!" Derek finished his plea, not caring about what his stepsister was saying behind him.
George glanced past Derek to Casey and let out a chuckle. "Torture him like that."
"George?" Nora reprimanded and shot him a glare, making him purse his lips and contain his amusement.
"Ew! I'm not parading myself wearing almost nothing in front of Derek!" Casey cried out in disgust.
"Ew. Like I'd want to see what's underneath her granny clothes. It's bad enough to get a daily dose of her wearing nothing but a towel. Try bathrobe."
"Pig!"
"Keener!"
"Slob!"
"Klutzilla!"
"Pervert!"
"Not for you!" They were inches away from each other, chests heaving, and noses almost touching. They could feel each other's breath on their skin - warm, moist, and tingly.
"Stop it, you two! Learn to cooperate because we're not changing our minds," Nora shouted while she and George tugged their arms and separated them to keep them from clawing each other out. "And clean this mess!"
| DerekVenturi: Casey!
| LifeWithCasey: What?
| DerekVenturi: Tell Dad and Nora that you're not going to the mall with me.
| LifeWithCasey: Did your hearing aid pop into your empty head? Why don't YOU do it?
| DerekVenturi: Because I'm not the one who started the pancake fight!
| LifeWithCasey: Oh, so you're not going to own up to your fault again, I see. Deal with it!
| DerekVenturi: Help me out, fake a cough or something. Tell them you're infected with a rare.. keening disease. I can't have you around at the mall!
| LifeWithCasey: You think I'm happy with this? I have plans today and you are not supposed to be in it. But every time I try to have a Derek-free time, somehow this universe makes fun of me by putting your existence in my face.
| DerekVenturi: Well, your existence doesn't exactly scream "yay" to me either. So, save me the "boo hoo" and help me get out of this mess.
| LifeWithCasey: Your mess, your clean-up.
Knocking his head on his desk, Derek breathed out heavily. Looks like he wasn't going to get out of this one any minute now. What was she even going to do with us there? Whine forever until we get home? His weekend wasn't starting well and he wasn't liking it. How was he even going to ask someone out on a date if she was going to be present all the time? Not cool at all.
"Dad!"
"No, Derek."
A/N: LOL, they seem to always fight in this fic. I just had to get the pancake/mall thing out of the way so I could get to the other Dasey stuff. Hopefully, fluff comes out when they actually go to the mall, and in the next couple of chapters. This is actually an add-on to the original Twitter plot. In the actual story, Derek took Marti to the mall and he and Casey were tweeting each other the whole time. But, I thought it would be fun if Casey actually goes with them. :)
Again, really sorry if it was bad. Have to switch back into writing mode again. I also have to find LifeWithCasey and DerekVenturi's tweets because they magically disappeared from TwimeMachine, ugh.
Please review! If you have any q's, I'll address them in the next chapter. Much hearts. ❤
