Whew. I am sorry. I will get better at updating, I promise. But if for some reason I don't, I can promise that I'll never abandon this story. So that's kinda good news right? :D

Anyway, if I remember this correctly, this is a long one, so at least your wait was worth it!

...

"No."

"Casey," Kate stretches her name into several syllables. When that doesn't get a response, she folds her arms across her chest and mutters petulantly like a child, "You're such a party poop."

Casey flinches, that particular insult has always needled her the wrong way, but she is not backing down on this one. No sir. "I just don't see the point."

"The point is that your best friend has invited you out for the weekend. You should do this for me."

So Casey sighs, hating to disappoint her friend. She looks at Kate, "I just can't; I'm sorry." Casey starts to walk away then: there is only so much of Kate's disappointed face she can take before she needs to save a an abandoned puppy.

Halfway between Kate's desk and her own, a co-worker shoots Casey the upward nod. He puts his fist up, and its reflex for her to return the bump after so much time in this boy's club she calls her job. It would have been okay, but then he opens his mouth: "Good to see you, lucky charm."

He keeps walking, Casey stops dead. She makes a strangled noise somewhere between a sigh and a scream, air whistling out of her like a teapot. "Kate!" she barks, looking vaguely in the direction of her friend, "Let's go."

Kate chuckles, unmoving.

"Now!" Casey shrieks. In seconds, they're in the elevator, then the lobby. And in minutes they're out on 7th Avenue. She looks uptown and then down, and Casey can almost make out the black and gold of Madison Square Garden.

"Screw the men, screw this job, screw it all," she says and it's the closest Casey has ever gotten to cursing in the years that Kate has known her. "We're going shopping."

Kate grins, and before she can stop herself, it's out of her mouth, "Planning on getting pretty for Derek?" she freezes and looks guiltily at her friend, who whips her head around so fast it's a wonder she doesn't snap her neck in two.

"What?" Casey demands. She lowers her voice to a hiss, but Kate has no trouble hearing her over the midday traffic. "You said I wouldn't have to see him."

Kate struggles to swallow a gulp, "No. Of course you don't. It's just that we're sitting so close-he might see you. The whole point is to, uh, prove you're fine-you don't-need-Which store do you wanna hit?"

Casey looks at her with narrowed eyes.

"C'mon, Case. Do you even have any cute winter clothes? I'm thinking about some kind of ski-lodge chic...for when we're on the ice, you know?"

Casey blinks, ski-lodge chic? That's not what she wore in college. That's not what real fans wear. "Oh god," Casey groans, "You're one of those girls?"

Kate looks at her innocently, entirely confused.

"You're going to a hockey game, not an ice-skating birthday party," she says as if will suddenly make sense. She looks at Kate sideways, "No, you need a jersey."

...

It doesn't mean anything that Casey knows the closest place to buy New York Rangers apparel is less than ten blocks up and over on 6th. She just likes looking at maps in her spare time, okay? At least, that's what she wants to tell Kate the entire way there, while she's looking over at Casey like she knows something Casey does not.

"Here," she steers her friend in front of a rack of Crawford jerseys. "You'll want one of these."

Kate gets all wide-eyed and blushes, "Gosh, this is for real, isn't it? I'm dating a hockey player."

Casey rolls her eyes, gently, "Get a youth one. It'll fit you better," then she wanders off a few feet. As far as she can tell, the jerseys are in no particular order, but that doesn't stop her from looking. Casey takes three steps away from Kate, who has busied herself trying on several different sizes in front of one of the store's mirrors, and there it is. It seems that the New York Rangers do not waste time. She moves closer, drawn by some kind of personal vendetta, and there's this annoyingly huge swell in her chest that feels suspiciously like pride. Before she knows what is happening, she's pulled the closest shirt off the hanger and buried her face in it. It feels like a jersey, just the same as they did in college, only this time it's so much more: it's not two kids with dreams anymore. It's one who has realized his greatest wish, and one who has, well, not. It smells like him.

Kate calls her name and Casey drops the offending garment like it's on fire, springing away from the rack and to Kate's side in the space of two heartbeats.

They look at each other in the mirror. For her part, Kate pretends like she didn't see, but she does in fact know exactly what Casey was doing on the other side of the store. She smiles.

"This one?" Kate holds up the navy home uniform, "Or the white one?"

Casey rolls her eyes, "Honestly, Kate. You report for Sports Section. Their fans are called the Blueshirts," Casey snaps, "Get the blue one."

Kate grins, she might as well be batting her eyelashes at Casey for how sweet she looks, "And what about you? Are you getting one?"

Casey shifts, "Uh, sure. Just as soon as I find a nameless one-don't look at me like that."

But Kate can't keep the smile off of her face as she drags her friend back to the rack of jerseys Casey just about knocked over a minute earlier, "The name of the game is pissing off Derek, isn't it?" Kate grins wider, nodding her head up and down, with her hands on Casey's solders, and she keeps flicking her eyes to the rack.

"No," Casey shakes her head, but her resolve is weak, "no," she tries again, but she struggles to keep the threatening smile from breaking out across her face, "I couldn't."

"Yes, yes you can." Kate swallows, desperate to keep her words from tripping over one another on the way out of her mouth, "C'mon, honey. Imagine the look on his face when you show up in this." She touches the red letters that spell his name, almost stroking them, "You could only do better if you showed up naked." Kate freezes, afraid she has pushed Casey too far. But she looks at her friend: Casey's eyes are glazed over.

"No," she mumbles and reaches out, tracing his number on the shoulder, "Not naked. In this," Casey pauses, transfixed in her tracing, "and nothing else."

The resulting peal of laughter from Kate is infectious: Casey breaks her trance and dissolves, laughing, in absolute hysterics. In between gasps for air, Casey chokes out, "Alright, I'm n-not do-doing that."

Kate's eyes drop.

"But I will wear this to the game," Casey concedes.

As they stand in line to pay, Casey turns to Kate gleefully, "Now I remember why I'm friends with you: you're brilliant. Derek is going to be furious when he sees this."

Casey steps up to the register. Unseen behind her, Kate whips out her phone to text Wes; she hears Casey snap at the guy working the register, "Sure, I might be the first one you've seen buying his jersey, but I certainly won't be the last. Derek will knock your socks off," she bites, "And you won't be able to keep these on the shelf. Just you wait."

...

Wes' cellphone trills in his pocket.

"That your lovebird finally getting back to you?" Derek laughs.

"Dunno," Wes replies, focusing on the phone as he swipes it open.

She's coming, the text message reads, And wait until you see what I got her to wear to the game.

Wes is grinning like a schoolboy, and Derek isn't stupid. "So I take it your bunny is coming tomorrow night?"

He returns to packing up his gear before responding, "Yeah," he shrugs, but his smile gives away how excited he actually is.

"And her friend?"

"Her too," Wes grunts. "Of course-I'd never leave you hanging."

"Sweet," Derek leans against the lockers, his duffel already set to go. "Have you met her?"

"Once," Wes says, and he looks over at his friend. "Kate's taste in female friends is just as good as her taste in guys," he smiles. "Trust me. Tomorrow's gonna be one hell of a night."

...

They stand in the side by side in the Amtrak terminal early on Friday morning. Kate looks over at her friend, "Come on, you promised. This will be fun."

Casey stares up at the arrivals board. Leave it to Penn Station to mess everything up.

"At most you'll have to say hello," Kate keeps with their unspoken agreement not to say his name, "It's not as if you're marching to your death."

"Sometimes I wonder," Casey says with a small smile, still looking at the board, "which of those would be easier."

"You are such a drama queen."

She sighs, and looks down at Kate. "I know."

"So? Quit thinking about it and smile for fuck's sake."

"Seeing Derek again is like facing every one of my biggest mistakes, Kate."

"Well, it's you and me against the world, baby."

Casey snorts.

"Well, against our fears at least. I'll be right by your side. Besides, I wanna see the look on his face when he finds out it's you in that jersey, and not some adoring fan."

"Who says I'm gonna let him get that close to me?"

Kate rolls her eyes, "We already decided. This weekend is about facing our fears."

"What do you have to be afraid of?" Casey narrows her eyes.

"Please, Casey, I've never even been to a hockey game. Before you know it, Wes is going to discover me for the fraud I am and," she huffs, pushing away pretend tears with the heels of her hands, "And it'll all be over," she says, voice quaking.

Casey pushes her. "Shut up, Kate."

...

He has to be honest; he didn't expect that the first time he'd see someone wearing his Rangers jersey to be inside the Wells Fargo Center. But that's exactly the sight that greets him when he walks out of the locker room some time before the game Friday afternoon. Facing away from him is his number and his last name hugging a decidedly sexy female body. And he knows, even if she's an airhead, that this is so much better than the most knowledgeable of male fans, even if the guy was at everyone of the games, supporting the team…no, give him a girl over a guy any day of the week. A fan like her, with an ass like that, he could get lost in. Wes elbows him, "Should we go say hello?"

Derek clears his throat, "Why would you come with-Oh," he says, when he realizes there are in fact, two girls standing there and the second has Crawford emblazoned across her shoulders.

"C'mon, dude. You act like this is the first time you've ever seen a chick in your jersey."

Derek closes his eyes, suddenly immersed in the memory of that first time when he lent his practice jersey out-to an almost unbearably feisty brunette in University. Back then, he had been taken aback by his surprisingly visceral reaction to seeing his name branded across her shoulders. If he was being honest with himself, and actually acknowledging his feelings-which he most certainly was not-he would have said that was the first time that he felt like his name belonged on the girl wearing it, like he'd never tire of seeing it there.

Wes says something again. Possibly. Then he lands a punch on Derek's arm, "I said c'mon. Let's go say hi." Derek shakes his head, clearing away the bittersweet memory, "Huh?"

"Let's, go, say, hello," he enunciates every word.

Derek's face is blank.

Wes tries to catch his eye, "D, you wanna meet Kate, right?"

"Wait, that's-that's Kate over there?"

"Yeah, dude. How else do you think they got down here?"

Derek smirks, practically high five-ing himself, "So the one wearing my jersey..." oh, tonight was going to be so easy if she was already wearing his name.

"Yeah, yeah," Wes dismisses, "It's very cute." He walks up behind Kate, slipping his arms around her waist. Then Wes tucks his head alongside her ear, bending slightly to fit.

"Have I mentioned how much I missed you?" Derek hears Wes croon. A few feet short of where Kate's friend is standing, Derek stops, and dials up the charm.

"Well, would you look at that, sweetheart? We match-"

His name disappears as she whips around to face him, all fire in her eyes with her lips parted in disbelief.

...

Casey blinks. "Kate," she says, and it's supposed to be threatening, but it comes out soft, questioning. She draws her eyes down to Derek's feet and then back up, to make sure, she supposes, that it is really him. When she returns her gaze to his, he's smirking, like he's caught her doing something she shouldn't be. Casey twists her face into an expression of distaste. She realizes Derek is speaking.

"...didn't think we were apart for so long that you'd forget my name, Princess."

If only.

Casey looks away, "Kate," she tries again, infinitesimally louder this time.

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Derek."

Derek. Casey swallows. She closes her eyes. He's not supposed to be here.

Somewhere nearby, a different person clears her throat.

"...like you to meet my boyfriend, Wes."

Casey opens her eyes. There is a blond person standing in front of her grinning. "Hi, I'm Wes," he says, and sticks out his hand. When Casey doesn't respond, he looks sideways at Kate. He steps back.

"God, SpaceCase, introduce yourself." Derek shakes his head, "They told me she was trained, but apparently there's a screw loose in this one, eh?"

No one laughs.

"Right," he says, and he gets down on Casey's level, and she feels as if she's being spoken to like a small child, "It's time for the boys to go play hockey now. Maybe we'll see you after the game?"

Then Derek leans in. She doesn't flinch like she expects to. His lips are almost touching her ear, sending flutters across her neck, "Cute shirt, Spacey." His voice is light, teasing. It pisses her off. Something snaps into place.

...

Wes turns to go, disappointed and dragging Derek with him, and Casey finally opens her mouth: "Well then, Venturi, break a leg."

Wes stops. Kate catches his eye, and they smile at one another.

"Get your theatre talk out of my ice rink, McDonald," Derek fires back without turning around.

"Oh, I'm not wishing you luck," she snarks, "I mean it, DerBear, break a leg." Casey is grinning, ear to ear. Kate and Wes wait, frozen to the same spot, silent.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Derek's voice is taunting. "Gonna come over and nurse me back to health?" Wes watches as a smile spreads across Derek's face.

Casey doesn't respond, and so Derek turns around and walks towards her, dropping decibels off his voice like they're going out of style, "Though I can't decide if I'd rather you were in a tiny little nurse's uniform," he sweeps his gaze down her body, only dimly aware of how wrong this should feel, but he cannot stop himself now; he stops in front of her, just out of arm's reach, "or my jersey." Derek swallows, unsure of when his thoughts regarding his stepsister got so filthy; because now there is this image in his head of Casey walking around his hotel room, wearing his number and nothing else. He drags his eyes off her hips, entirely aware of the havoc this is wreaking on his body. He chews on the side of his tongue, as he slowly looks back up.

Casey is glaring at him, arms folded under her chest. Derek swallows, hoping to all that is holy that she'll reposition her arms. He watches her breathe, the fabric tight and the vee of his jersey cut dangerously low. She has her head cocked to the side and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. When their eyes meet, Casey gets this look in her eyes like, Oh. And he can't decide if it's just about the greatest thing he has ever seen or the worst.

"Seriously, Spacey," he smirks, trying to regain some semblance of control, but his voice is heavy and he can feel the blood thrumming through his veins, "It's a good look for you." He means it to be sarcastic, but the traitorous statement that comes out of his mouth without any warning whatsoever sounds raw, demanding, almost sincere.

Casey stares back at Derek, her pupils dilated, chest bursting. Her heartbeat is everywhere, pounding in her ears, her fingertips, rushing down her spine like a thick lick of white flame, "I can take it off."

Derek swallows, his throat dry. It's out of his mouth before he knows what's happening, "Please do."

Kate reaches across the two feet that separates her from Wes and grabs his arm. Casey fingers the hem of her shirt, eyes locked tight with Derek. Kate flexes her hand, her grip on Wes' arm tighter than a virgin.

Derek moves toward Casey. He can't breathe.

On the other side of the line neither of them will cross, Casey takes a step closer. Her throat is tight.

The door to the locker room behind them bursts open. Air rushes into Derek's lungs, and he and Casey jump apart, breathing heavily.

"Venturi, Crawford," Coach barks, and they snap to attention in front of him. "If you boys are done flirting, there's a hockey game about to start."

...

Back on the ice or into a quiet corner of the locker room? What's it gonna be for those two?

If you're still with me, please leave a review.