This is, in fact, a monumentally long chapter. At least, I'm pretty sure it is. So please enjoy it, for me.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I be living with delusions of Dasey action?

He had been ignoring raucous comments all night, comments that he was suddenly glad Casey was too oblivious to catch. He found himself glaring at a group of college kids a few rows down, where a few guys were twisted around to stare blatantly at her legs, apparently having decided that pointing and leering was classy.

Classy? he caught himself with a pang of horror, letting the glare melt off his face as the men, intimidated, slunk back around in their seats. Since when do I know anything about classy? It wasn't the thought, so much, as the word that grated on him. 'Classy' was such a Casey word. It bothered him. How far gone did I get without even realizing it?

He knew something had been brewing all summer, but he hadn't thought much of it. They were becoming friends, and Casey was hot, there was no denying. So the incident in the school hadn't come as much of a shock, to him at least. Not that she isn't still blaming me for it, Derek thought petulantly, glancing over at Casey, who had propped her elbow on her bare knee and was resting her face in her palm, apparently not caring how bored she looked. It wasn't his fault Casey had been in denial. He had done all he could to stamp out his feelings, and when that had failed he took it in stride. But still, how much had he let her get in his head? And how had he not noticed? Yeesh, next thing you know I'll be picking up laundry and studying of my own free will, he thought with a hint of sourness. Then he couldn't help but smirking in amusement as a sarcastic, yeah right, floated through his mind.

Derek willingly allowed the slapping of a hockey stick flush those thoughts from his head, and soon he was whooshing to his feet with most of the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth to hoot exultantly as the forward pumped a fist in the air to appease the fans. Amazing. Just awesome. This is why he loved hockey, really. Say whatever you wanted about hockey players, but it took more than just talent to play—it took brains, ingenuity. Sinking back onto the bleacher, Derek shook his head and laughed with pleasure. Why anyone wouldn't enjoy this was beyond him.

A swish of brown to his right caught his attention, and despite himself he felt a pang of guilt. Casey was definitely not enjoying this. He knew she wouldn't, and it hadn't really bothered him; after all, with how she was treating him it wasn't like he didn't deserve a good night. But still, he was taking away her time with her dad, even though it was not his fault in the least.

Derek's mind finally wrapped around his line of thinking, and his mouth twisted into a dour expression. Trust Casey to make him miserable then make him feel bad about it. That was just like her. Eyes flickering to the game he was no longer enjoying quite so thoroughly, Derek obstinately thought, no effing way is she going to ruin this. And with a resigned sigh, he quirked a grin and turned to face his stepsister.

"You know," he began, causing her to jolt out of her stupor and turn to him in surprise. "If you had only once come to one of my games, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"What?" Casey scoffed rhetorically, refusing to accept his magnanimous effort. "If I had subjected myself to watching you chasing around a stupid piece of plastic and bragging about how awesome you were at some point in the last three years, my dad wouldn't have taken one of the few nights a year I get to see him to drag me to a hockey game? With you," she added in distain.

"No," he corrected, trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. He succeeded surprisingly well. "If you had come to one of my games, or even asked about one of them, you would know what was going on and be able to actually enjoy it."

Casey snorted lightly. "Please. As if I would ever enjoy this sort of thing," she punctuated her statement with a sweep of her arm, encompassing the rowdy crowd and violent game in one gesture.

"You might," Derek insisted obstinately. "If you didn't set yourself up for failure."

"I do not set myself up for failure," Casey retorted stubbornly. "I am simply able to recognize an idiotic game when I see one." Derek shrugged, forcing himself to ignore the slight to his beloved sport, and pretended to invest his attention in the match. Casey rested her head back on her palm, but after several moments it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to zone out again. She straightened with a sigh, dropping her arm and smoothing her skirt before cautiously letting her eyes flicker to the game. He had known dropping it would get her. Casey couldn't stand it when he dropped an argument. Not that he enjoyed letting them go either; but this time he knew he would win in the end, so he took one for the cause. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Derek watching the game and Casey pretending not to, before he caught her mouth twist in frustration.

Her head swiveled towards him, eyes flickering between him and the game, and she asked in a defeated monotone, "What does that guy do, again?"

Derek let himself grin, but checked a victory dance for the time being, choosing instead to explain the job of the forward in a casual, easy tone.

"And why is that not a foul?" she asked when he was finished, allowing a modicum of curiosity to defile her blank tone as she gestured toward an area on the ice, away from the action.

Derek let his eyes travel away from the interesting stuff long enough to catch what she was pointing at. He snorted in amusement.

"Cause the ref didn't catch it. Nice," he murmured, the sailing puck catching his eye once more.

"Um, why is that good?" Casey wondered, obviously unsure if she should express her interest. Derek checked his smugness once more—he really knew her too well—and set about answering her question, rolling his eyes at her ignorance of the game. Really you'd think that even without paying attention she would have picked up something living with him. As he explained, he caught a small smile tug at Casey's lips. Maybe I should rub things in her face less often, he thought, knowing even as he did so that it would never happen. Where was the fun in life if he didn't make Casey mad?

He finally let a smug smile cross his face as he watched Casey's eyes flicker between him and the game, apparently unsure which she would rather watch and completely unaware of how obvious she was being. Derek's ego got the best of him, and he opened his mouth, despite knowing that whatever would come out would likely aggravate the situation between them. But before he could speak Casey blinked and turned to the side, distracted, and Derek craned his neck to follow her line of vision. Dennis was making his way back to the stands, shoving his phone back in his pocket as he did so. He was almost to them when their attention was distracted by another goal, but Casey's eyes stayed trained on her dad, and at the betrayed look in her eyes Derek felt his own mood crashing down with hers.

Derek moved in the general direction of the exit, not really caring as the crowd swirled around him. It was all the rush of the game, and he didn't really mind the sweaty men and obnoxious fangirls as he would have at any other eve. The heat from the milling of people contrasted heavily with the crisp air of the rink, and Derek accepted the well-known feeling without a thought. Dennis followed him, matching his pace if not his fervor and Casey trudged behind, apparently happy it was finally over. They found lull in the crowd and made a break for it, swinging through the glass door and into the muggy New York air. The arena let out onto a shady looking side street, but within half a block they were back onto a more congested venue.

"Anybody hungry?" Dennis broke the silence as they dodged people on the fairly busy street. It was only midnight, but Derek knew the crowd probably wouldn't have been any smaller if it were three instead. Casey glanced up and shrugged, hurrying slightly to catch the two men in front of her, and Dennis paused and stepped into the alcove of a little deli. They had eaten dinner early, and the greasy pretzels and soda at the rink hadn't appealed to Casey much. Derek doubled back as Casey caught up with him, and together they followed Dennis into the little shop.

"Sorry I don't have much at home, but I figured we wouldn't be around much and I didn't really have time to hit the store," he apologized as they walked through the aisle, grabbing things off the shelves. Derek contented himself with several bags of potato chips and a few processed deserts, already eyeing the sandwich menu behind the counter. He let his eyes flicker over to Casey and quirked his lips in amusement as he watched her dither between a granola bar and a bag of chips that promised to be "thirty percent healthier." With a roll of his eyes, he reached over her arm to grab them both before plopping them on the counter and, ignoring the annoyed turn of her lips, rattling off his order. Glancing behind him at the still lingering Casey, he snorted and gave the man hers as well. That got her attention and earned him a glare, but he didn't really care. She probably thought he was being chauvinistic or something, like he thought that she couldn't order for herself, but it wasn't his fault she was taking all day. Dennis glanced between the two before shaking his head, digging out his wallet and dropping a twenty on the high counter. They traveled as a group to the end of the line where they picked up their sandwiches, wrapped in paper, and headed for the door. Derek saw Casey peek into her wrapper from the corner of his eye, and couldn't help a satisfied grin at the look of perturbance that crossed her face at the realization that he had ordered what she wanted.

"Must we eat them as we walk?" Casey asked with a frown when she couldn't think of anything rude to say to Derek. Like it or not, he had gotten her order right.

Derek muttered, "We're in New York, Princess," under his breath, but luckily she didn't appear to have heard.

Dennis' eyebrows furrowed. "Well, there might be an alcove or somewhere we could sit, if you want," he suggested, arm gesturing the table-less store apologetically.

"Um, okay," Casey replied unsurely, not entirely pleased. Derek sighed in relief when she didn't suggest they wait to get back to her Dad's; he was hungry. He grinned at the expression on Casey's face as they headed outside and started walking, glancing around for anything that could make do as a table. Finally Dennis spotted a building with a nice ledge, and they weaved through the crowd so that they could sit on it. Derek dropped his food carelessly into his lap and immediately broke into the sandwich and Dennis seemed content to stand, but Casey let her hands flutter uselessly between items for a few moments, trying to decide the most civilized way to go about it. Finally she gently dropped the chips and granola bar into her purse and delicately unwrapped the sandwich, folding her legs into a perfect right angle to use as a table. Derek watched her surreptitiously, and knew his mouth was watering because of more than the sandwich as he noted the way her skirt—why in the world had she thought that was appropriate for a hockey game?—inched up her thighs. Forcing himself to avert his eyes, Derek polished off his sandwich and ripped the bag of chips open with undue frustration before grabbing a handful and stuffing them in his mouth. Dennis was done with his sandwich, too, and was leaning casually against the wall, waiting for the teenagers to finish. Mouth full of potato, Derek allowed his eyes to flicker back toward his stepsister. Well, mostly waiting for Casey, he corrected.

A vibrating in his pocket distracted him for a moment, and Derek managed to swallow his mouthful of food in one try as he dug out his phone, scattering a few chips on the dirty pavement in the process. Ignoring the broken bits of food, he glanced at the caller ID before flipping the phone open in surprise. He kinda thought the voicemail was the last he would hear of her, but maybe she really did want to get together. It would be kind of nice to see her, but it was bound to be awkward, and he thought she would have focused on that fact, as he was inclined to do. Shaking the thought, he greeted her casually, hearing her voice for the first time in months.

"Derek!" she sounded enthusiastic, at least. He smiled. "You never called me back!" It was a statement, not an admonishment, and Derek found himself shrugging lightly in response.

"Been busy," he dismissed easily in his usual style.

"Oh, that's okay," Kendra dismissed, as well. "It's been uber crazy at the mag, and I've been hanging out with Jen when I'm not working. But I really do want to see you guys," she assured him, before letting sincerity soften her tone long enough to say, "I've missed you."

The first hint of unease twisted Derek's stomach, but he wasn't sure if it was because he didn't agree with her or if he did.

"Yeah," he muttered noncommittally, and Kendra seemed willing enough to let it go.

"Well, we're going out to lunch tomorrow, to this little French café off Broadway. It's tres chic," she assured him, and he fought back a laugh at the wholeheartedness of her tone. "So you and Casey should totally come."

"Sure, Kendra," he said, not quite an assent, but close. He was distracted for a moment by Casey's face tilting over to watch him, but quickly shoved that knowledge away to refocus on his ex. Or were they friends, now? Not that it really mattered. "We'll see if anything's going on."

"Awesome," Kendra enthused, and he knew she would expect him to show, whether or not they had other plans. But still, she added, "Call me if you can. I'll text you the address as soon as I MapQuest it." Here he did chuckle lightly. Trust Kendra to not even know where they were going. "We're meeting about noon, m'kay?" He agreed briefly, and he could practically hear Kendra itching to get off the phone; she never did have a high attention span. Which was probably one of the reasons they got along so well. But then her attention refocused on him, and he was slightly surprised to hear her add pleasantly, "Oh, and Derek? Have an awesome time in New York."

"Sure. See you," he said as she clicked off the phone and he did the same.

Derek slid the phone shut and glanced up, feeling Casey's questioning eyes on him.

"Kendra said to stop by for lunch tomorrow if we have time. No pressure," he added lightly as an aggravated look crossed Casey's face. It wasn't like Kendra was trying to steal Casey's Dad-time or anything. Still, he knew what Casey was going to say even as she opened her mouth, despite the fact that she had schooled her features.

"That's perfect, actually."

They both glanced up in surprise to where Dennis was still leaning against the wall, and the older man pushed himself up to better talk to them.

"Well, Casey, this interview came up tomorrow—" Dennis didn't notice the way Casey's face fell, but Derek certainly did, and the more Dennis talked the more irritated Derek got. "That call I got during the game?" Dennis continued, without really waiting for a response, "It was a friend of mine. He's had a major breakthrough in this case I'm working on, and finally convinced a witness to talk to me. We need to have a meeting right away, in case he gets cold feet and bolts. This testimony could make our whole case," he justified, but even as Casey nodded her face only dropped further as a weight of responsibility drifted across her shoulders. Derek tried to smother the protective urge creeping up in more righteous anger, denying the presence of something so un-Derek-like. "So if you guys want to meet up with your friend for lunch, that will give me time to get this done so we can have the rest of the trip together."

Jeeze, we're only staying 'til the day after tomorrow, Derek thought bitterly. Can't it wait one day?

Dennis glanced up then, and finally noticed the vaguely hidden expressions on either teen's face. He seemed to be expecting it, and Derek didn't know if that made him better or worse.

"Derek, I hope you can get around the city by yourself," Dennis added, and Derek sourly decided, worse.

Casey latched onto the statement, obviously trying to hide her despair, and from her expression Derek gathered that her dad was about to receive a less severe version of the feminism speech she so often gave him. Dennis seemed to pick up on it, too, and grinned, of all things, as he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer.

"Cause he's going to have to meet us at the airport," he dropped casually, leaning over slightly to slide two thin strips of paper into Casey's hand. She glanced at them blankly, then her eyes darted up to her Dad and back again. Derek let his brow furrow, wishing he could see what they were.

"Really?" Casey asked softly, glancing almost shyly up at her dad again. Derek refrained from interrupting, on the off chance that Dennis was redeeming himself, and watched Casey intently.

"Just you and me, kiddo. If we push your flight back a few hours, we should just be able to make the matinee. Think Derek can entertain himself for one afternoon?"

And then Casey was breaking out into a brilliant grin, and jumping up from her perch with a squeal—not caring as her sandwich slid off her lap to exploded on the ground—to give her dad an enthusiastic hug.

Derek watched them impassively, letting some of his anger drain away. He knew it was his protective side—pessimistic side, he quickly corrected—that was telling him Dennis was buying Casey off. He was going to spend an afternoon with her, wasn't he? Even if it would apparently be in a dark theater on Broadway.

Casey continued her profuse thanks, squealing intermittently and drawing the uninterested attention of several passersby, before she darted over to Derek, surprising him.

"Look," she demanded happily, shoving the tickets in Derek's face before he could gather himself. "Isn't it awesome?" Her glowing smile and apparent lack of interest in the fact that she was royally pissed at him were what caused Derek to glance down at the printed strips.

Wicked stared back at him in stark black letters.

"Awesome, Case," he managed, too surprised say something sarcastic. Casey absolutely adored Wicked. Maybe Dennis had put a little thought into it, after all.

Casey flashed another brilliant smile at him before skipping a few steps back; Derek got the feeling she was about to break into a pirouette in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

"Oh!" Casey realized suddenly, stopping and raising a hand for them to pause as well, though neither of them was moving. "But what will I wear?"

Dennis thought for a moment. "Why don't you and Derek head out a little early? I'll give you my card and you can find something new somewhere." He pulled out an extra credit card even as he said it, and handed the square of plastic to his daughter. Derek could tell she was warring with herself, but her desire for a new outfit and her vestiges of excitement obviously outweighed her restraint, and she snatched up the card after only a few seconds, smiling at her dad once more.

She must have been in a good mood, because then she turned that smile on her stepbrother, and asked genuinely, "Derek? Is that okay?" She waited expectantly, apparently okay with whichever answer he wanted to give her, though she was practically bouncing for an affirmation.

He watched her, struggling to find a roundabout way of saying 'no,' as she continued to stare eagerly at him. I am so far gone, Derek thought with a groan; only now that he had realized it, he didn't seem to be able to stop himself. Her hopeful expression was too much for him.

"Sure, whatever," he found himself agreeing.

"Thank you!" she squealed—sounding entirely too much like Emily in her middle school years—and pulled him half-up from his perch into an enthusiastic hug before he could object. She didn't seem to realize what she had done as she released him and started walking happily in the direction of her dad's appartment, leaving Derek momentarily stunned behind her. But he gathered himself before anyone could notice and quickly hurried after, contenting himself with a sarcastic: Shopping. Great.

"Are you going to buy or rent?" Casey asked, poising her pen to write even as she walked. It was their second tour of duty, but already the afternoon. Derek had been up and ready by nine, expecting Casey to already be knocking down his door, but surprisingly she had not shown until after eleven. She had been flustered and looked sleep deprived, but she gave him a cursory, 'I overslept,' before dropping the subject and hurrying him out the door.

"Rent," Derek stated emphatically, and Casey glanced up at him.

"Are you sure? You might get a better fit if you just bought one. Then you could alter as needed. And I know Kendra would—"

"Case," he cut her off, slightly exasperated. "A rented tux will look exactly the same as if I bought one." He could tell she was opening her mouth to argue, so he added, "Besides. I'm not made of money, you know. I can't use it all up before the real expenses start." That dampened his mood somewhat, as it always did. Sure he paid his own bills now, but he knew Kendra, and he knew marriage itself was expensive. There went retiring to the beach.

He ignored Casey's muttering, amongst which he distinctly heard, "pretending to be responsible to get out of this."

They stepped up onto the sidewalk running parallel to the strip of shops, and Derek pushed through the glass door with the pseudo-sophisticated lettering, Casey close behind.

The salesgirl glanced up with obvious boredom at the chime of the bell, caught Derek's eye, and perked up, a hint of a smile working at the corners of her mouth. She stood, smoothing her black shirt to meet her matching business pants, and briefly toying with the long necklace that dangled just over her breasts, emphasizing what the high collared shirt could not. Derek couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or flattered that random girls were still so obviously smitten with his looks. Annoyed, he decided flatly when she sidled up next to him, subtly but deliberately stepping between himself and Casey and forcing the older girl to take a step back. Casey seemed rather miffed, he noted, a bit of his irritation fading in favor of amusement.

"Welcome to 'Black Tie.' My name is Madison," she introduced, slipping her hand into Derek's. He shook it briefly, then dropped it. Madison continued unperturbed. "What are you looking for?"

"A tux," Derek said simply, albeit somewhat unwillingly. He glanced at Casey; she was obviously itching to take charge, and he gladly deferred to her.

"Something classic, but not too sophisticated." Derek glanced at her, wondering if that was an insult, but she continued without glancing at him, so he dismissed it. Probably had to do with some wedding scheme or something. "But maybe something a little out of the ordinary. Just a little," she repeated, glancing at the girl and probably questioning her competency. "Classic black, of course," she went on after her qualms were somewhat sated.

Madison eyed Casey, then glanced back to Derek. "Right this way," she said, remaining chipper.

Casey wasted no time in marching after the girl, and Derek reluctantly trudged along behind. They walked past the suits, past the rows of catalogues, and toward the back, where pieces of tuxes were arranged about the walls.

"We already have his measurements." Casey's voice broke Derek from his thoughts—namely, if they were ever going to get out of here with all this selection and Casey's perfectionist attitude. He glanced up in time to see the sales associate drop the tape back into a drawer with a sigh before turning to accept the sheet Casey had given her.

"We do?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Casey reminded him with vague impatience, pushing his shoulder in the direction the girl had gone. "Nora bought you a new suit for your dad's promotion last year?" she reminded before following the girl herself.

"Vest color?" The girl's dark brown hair bounced as she swung around to ask, and Derek could tell she was disappointed at his lack of response. Maybe once, Derek thought ruefully. But he was too aware of the tricks to fall for them.

"Silver," Casey answered immediately, stepping between them so the girl knew who was in charge of this whole business. "Or ivory," she added after a moment, looking thoughtful.

The girl simply nodded and set about darting from rack to rack, looking for the correct articles of clothing.

She returned, and Derek took them with a sigh, slipping into the white-ish one first; as he shook off his jacket, Casey set about ordering the next article found. He didn't bother to button the vest, and was surprised when Casey didn't complain. Instead she watched him with a quirk of the mouth, eyes slanted oddly.

"It's a good color for you," she finally said, and Derek shrugged. One of his college girlfriends—he used the term loosely—had been some kind of makeup something, and she told him he was a warm, whatever that meant. But this vest seemed to fit that category much more than the other, so perhaps she was right. He was slightly surprised when Casey shook her head and gestured him to remove it.

"I don't know why I bothered with that one anyway. Kendra said silver." She handed the vest back to the girl, who had reappeared with a pair of pants, and motioned for Derek to step into the dressing room. He grabbed the pants and other vest, willing not to argue so long as they could leave more quickly, and shut the door behind him before quickly slipping into the clothing. This time Casey did frown when he emerged, but the other girl was faster.

She darted forward, managing to appear helpful rather than intrusive, as Derek suspected her of being, and made quick work of doing up the buttons. Then she grabbed the jacket she had slung across a rack and turned to help him into it.

"Tie," Casey muttered to herself, glancing back at him before drifting closer to the front of the store, where the obnoxious things were displayed.

Derek began to feel slightly uncomfortable as he stuffed his arms into the jacket. He tried to button that himself, but found it was already halfway done before he even got there. He gave up with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

"It's nice of your sister to help out," the salesgirl—he had forgotten her name, and didn't bother to glance at her tag—interjected after a moment, glancing up at him with a too big smile. "Most families nowadays aren't willing to take the time."

Derek suppressed a cringe, and another when Casey spoke, smiling with an equally fake turn of her lips as she rejoined them, several long pieces of cloth in hand.

"Well, he certainly couldn't do it on his own, could he?" The sales associate glanced up, obviously having expected her to deny any relation. She probably thought Casey was his girlfriend or something. But as the girl's face began to drift into a pleased smile, Casey interjected, "Besides, his fiancée is in New York looking for a wedding dress, and what else is family for?" That statement simultaneously caused the smile to drop off the salesgirl's face and Derek's stomach to twist in an uneasy knot of frustration. Casey was perfectly aware of how much he detested the family reference. Stupid, easy way out, he muttered internally, his earlier reserves growing more pronounced.

The salesgirl recovered quickly, though. "Wow. You look awfully young to be getting married," she said as she grabbed a black strip from Casey's hand and reached up to drape it around his neck.

Derek shrugged. "I'm twenty-six."

If he'd had any hope that the fact would put her off, he was let down immediately.

"That's not so old," she said, smiling sweetly and looking up at him. Casey made a disgruntled noise, which the girl chose to ignore, but Derek couldn't help but agree with. "Much too young to be giving it all up for one girl." This girl would not stop. Derek had to wonder if her employer had made the mistake of thinking a flirtatious worker would sell more suits; there was no other explanation for her employment. Likely, he thought with a grimace. It worked at Smelly Nelly's, after all.

There was a light tinkling from the door, and Casey's eyes brightened as the girl casually glanced over her shoulder to investigate, making sure to flip her hair in the process.

"Oh, look. It seems you have another customer," Casey said with a polite smile and understanding expression. "That's quite alright, we can handle things here." Then, when the girl hesitated, "I know a thing or two about tuxes. I dated a guy Junior year whose parents were always going to these political events," she added with a dismissing wave. Derek frowned at the memory. Even barring the fact that he had dated Casey, Fitzwilliam—that was actually his name; as if he weren't pretentious enough already—was not one of Derek's favorite people. "Junior year of University," Casey added, just a little patronizingly, though Derek was sure she had tried to keep that out of her tone. Derek rolled his eyes; the sales associate was young, but she had to be at least twenty. He watched her mouth twist in distaste as she nodded reluctantly. Then she turned to him.

"Let me know if you need anything," she emphasized, throwing him a coy smile before flitting across the room to help the new arrival. Even from that distance, he could see her eyes brighten considerably when the man through the door was also somewhat attractive, and a bit more in her age range.

"Ridiculous," Casey muttered, before reaching up to finish job the other girl had left half-done. Derek looked at her in surprise, but was glad to realize she was too busy with her task to notice. His face was casual again as she slipped the fabric around itself once more and pulled the knot tight.

Casey twisted and adjusted his bowtie—which was definitely overkill, in Derek's book—with perfunctory skill, before dropping her arms to tug at the ends of his sleeves, all the while muttering about useless salespeople. She grabbed his shoulders and twisted him around, and he felt almost like a misbehaven child. Holding him at arms' length in front of the mirror, he saw her reflected eyes dart down to the back of his shoes, where even he could tell the fabric of his pants hit too high. Sighing, she refocused on the jacket, tugging at the sides before reaching up to straighten the collar. He tried not to swallow as her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, making the hair stand on end. It was no use, though, when her fingers gentled, running from his collar and across his shoulders, lightly dusting invisible lint from the jacket. He glanced in the mirror to distract himself, and was surprised to find her eyes unfocused, staring at his back with a soft gaze. He wasn't sure whether to feel surprised or angry at the emotions hinted beneath the blue. His shoulders must have tensed, because she blinked suddenly, head snapping up as she took a quick step backwards and twisted her hands unrelentingly together.

"Well, the jacket is nice, but those pants are ridiculous," she said clearly, coolly. As if she could just pretend nothing happened. Which, he supposed, she could. After all, wasn't that what she'd been doing since they graduated?

"And I think a tie would be better," she continued, reaching up to roughly rip the bow free and slide the cloth from around his neck. "You look too much like a penguin."

So the penguins at school don't make fun of you . . . .

Now where had that thought come from? Derek was distracted by his half-hearted effort to recall as Casey discarded the rumpled fabric onto a nearby chair, causing Derek's brow to quirk. She must be agitated.

She must have realized it, too, because she took a deep breath and turned on her heel, escaping to some other part of the small building under guise of finding something more suitable.

Derek clenched his teeth as she disappeared behind a rack, annoyed. After everything, she still had to go and do things like that, didn't she? What was almost more disconcerting was his reaction to her touch. Usually he could manage on his own fairly well, but the unexpected intimate contact was too much for him to handle, apparently. After all these years of repression and denial, it hasn't changed a bit, he thought bitterly. He couldn't help but feel angry with himself for allowing it to happen, just as he was angry at Casey for continuing to pretend it hadn't. He didn't even know if he was talking about the past or the present anymore.

"You can do this yourself, can't you?" Casey asked, reappearing on his left and tossing him a simple black tie; he caught it with one hand and glanced at it. Upon closer inspection it had some sort of multi-facet thing going on, so sometimes the black looked almost charcoal silver. He whipped it around his neck and quickly set about tying the damn thing, trying to suppress his anger as he did so.

"Why are we doing this now, anyway," Derek asked as a distraction. It hadn't crossed his mind before, as he was set on just letting Casey run the planning thing, but now it kind of grated at him.

"Because," Casey replied with a light harrumph. "There are only so many things we can do with Kendra gone, and this is probably the most important." She pondered that for a moment, then amended, "Well, it's one of the only things we don't really need Kendra for. Except for the color scheme," she added after a moment.

Derek rolled his eyes, tightening the knot.

"Whatever."

"Besides," Casey added in a slightly lighter tone, glancing at him in the mirror. "It's out of the way, now, isn't it? You just have to send in the order sheet and pick it up. They'll fill it out when we're done with everything you need."

"Okay," he agreed somewhat reluctantly, as he finished with the tie and turned. He could sense she was trying to make a truce of some sort, and though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to accept, his obnoxious mature side told him he should, if for no other reason than that they were working together. His more obnoxious, evocative side told him that he sort of liked when Casey was civil towards him without acting like she was only speaking to him because of mutual relations. He dismissed the thought of both as Casey nodded in satisfaction.

"Well, it just looks like we need to find some pants, then," she said, all business again. Derek sighed in relief, and followed her across the store.

ASASASASASASASAS

Well there it is, for what it's worth. Hmm, musings from the author. I actually didn't notice the penguin coincidence until my final run through, so I hope the quote-back didn't seem too out of place. And I've gone a little flashback crazy these past few days—I'm absolutely loving writing the New York bit, so I hope everyone enjoys what's coming—and if you're lucky it didn't seem too overboard. I'm a little worried that I went crazy with the detail, but I guess that's for you guys to point out, if you feel the need. This flashback was kind of a lead up, anyway. I'm also a little worried about keeping the past!Dasey and present!Dasey separate, personality-wise, but I think I managed okay. Let me know if I didn't. And now, since I can't think of anything else to critique and because I have finals in the morning (which this chapter helped me not study for ), I'll stop rambling. If you have love or hate to share, my comment box is always open.