Forget Us Not
Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed.
Part XIV: Cordially Invited…
I got a wake-up call at three in the morning. What the hell kind of person starts erratically knocking at a person's door at three in the morning?! Answer: Sam Shepherd. Annoying git.
"What?!" I growled. He smiled sheepishly. Sighing, I dragged my hand threw my hair and widened the opened door for him to enter. He shot me a grateful look before sitting on the sofa. "So, what could you possibly need at a time like this?"
"You're angry." No duh. I'm guessing my look of indifference gave him the general idea of my thoughts. "Did I wake you?" My head fell forward at the apparent answer. It's like he's the slowest person alive in the early morning hours. Frustration is an understatement at this point in time.
"Sam." I glared at him—to which he pointedly ignored. "It's three in the morning, who wouldn't you be waking?" He shrugged and stretched out on the cream-coloured cushions.
"Sorry." He mumbled. I sighed. Well, I was up now.
"I'll ask again," I didn't say I'd be nice about it, "what the hell do you need?" He heaved out a long breath.
"It's my mother, she's driving me crazy!" I waited in silence.
"And?" I prompted.
"What do you mean, 'and'?" He sat straight and watched me through narrow eyes, paying no attention to the strands of hair falling into his eyes. "I haven't seen her in how long? She decides to spring this stupid trip on me, and the next thing I know, it's back to the way it was before I left with my dad and sisters! I never see her; what was the point in coming all the way to freakin' New York, if she was just going to be a replica of that stuck-up prick I remember her as?"
…Harsh.
"Sam, she's your mom." I stated. He rolled his eyes.
"I'm aware of that, D. But…just because she's my mom in a literal sense…doesn't actually make her a good mother." I nodded in understanding.
"So, you came to vent." It wasn't a question, but he shook his head 'yes' nevertheless. "Do I look like a chick to you?" I snapped irritably. He grinned. "Don't answer that." I grumbled before throwing one of the pillows from the sofa at him.
"Well…there kind of was one more thing…" He gave me a lop-sided smile hesitantly.
Uh-oh.
--
"And here I was, actually thinking you were about to go a full two weeks without this girl." Sam mumbled as Casey walked through the door and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. "Hi, Casey." I rolled my eyes. He could be an annoying twerp so many times a day, it was incomprehensible. The bloke loved having Casey around—who wouldn't?—yet, always brought up my severe addiction to her company.
"Hi, Sam. How are you?" I feigned hurt and touched my hand to my chest in mock-pain.
"I'm shocked. All I got was a hug." Sam replied, not bothering to pay any attention to me. "Oh, I see. I'm only good for the physical relationship. Fine; that's just perfect." I flung myself onto the sofa, kicking Sam accidentally—(cough)purposely(cough)—and buried my head into a pillow.
"Pay him no heed; he had too much chocolate milk this morning." I threw my pillow at him and scowled.
"No, I had some moron knocking at my door in the ungodly morning hours and going all chick on me." Casey was shaking silently next to the loveseat. "Besides, the chocolate milk was yesterday. I had coffee this morning. Completely different." That it was; of course, I may have added a bit too much sugar—courtesy of your local annoying git. He'd made it so I zoned out and added a few teaspoons extra sugar to my coffee every time he spoke.
Otherwise, the six cups would have been totally acceptable.
"Dude; that's so not cool." Sam threw the pillow back at me before pushing his hair out of his eyes. I put the pillow over my head again.
"Too bad. You robbed me of my sacred rest." Casey laughed lightly.
"Yeah, Sam. The baby needs his routine beauty sleep." I grunted—whether in agreement, or resentment, I really don't know.
"Get up, lazy-ass." Sam took my pillow. I glared at him.
"Gimme my pillow." He rolled his eyes.
"No."
"Give me my pillow." I demanded.
"No."
"Give me my pillow, you poop-head!" Casey laughed at us.
"Boys." She mumbled to herself as an explanation for our odd ways. I thought 'teenage boys' would have been more explanatory, but it was clear enough.
"So, what are we doing today?" Sam asked. Casey shrugged, I demanded my pillow again.
"Derek's sort of been winging it." Sam turned his attention to me.
"Pillow." Suddenly Casey gasped.
"The Empire State Building!" Sam blinked.
"Oh Lord, you picked a dork, didn't you?" I frowned at him and furrowed my brows. Honestly—I was aware Casey was a goody-two-shoe. Somewhat of a dork, as well. But she damn well wasn't in the stereotypical group of dorks or nerds or whatever.
"That may be so," Casey said, grinning, "but it would still be fun. Have either of you been?" Sam nodded solemnly. I snickered—joy, to mother-son bonding time. "Derek?"
"Nope." I stated simply as I glared at Sam. "I still want my pillow, though."
"Well, I have." It was apparent he was going to ignore me. I rolled my eyes.
"It doesn't count if your mommy took you when you were four." Sam grumbled some sort of protest. I ignored him as he had previously done to me. "I'm in. We'll drop Sammy in a dumpster on the way there. He's putting a damper on everything anyway." He growled at me.
"Says the man ready to bite my head off."
"You woke me up at three a.m." I paused, suddenly remembering. "I want my pillow!" Sam threw the pillow at my head. It was rather painful, as a pillow should never be. They were, evidently, not made to be hurled toward one's head. "Ow." I mumbled under my breath.
"Shut. Up. Nobody cares about you and your stupid pillow!" He threw another one at me. This time, however, I was prepared. Whether or not the preparation was well preformed is a whole other matter. Casey squeaked as I pulled her in front of me, blocking the significantly larger pillow form taking a blow to my head. She landed exceptionally sloppy on my lap, guarding her head with her arms.
Good reflexes, that one.
"Okay, okay. Anger wave, over. You can stop groping Casey now." I hadn't been aware—honestly, I swear—that my hands were bound dubiously around her middle. Oops.
"Stop throwing things at my head." I pointedly ignored Casey's wriggling.
"I'd like to be released." She said loudly.
"You're the one who asked for the pillow."
"You took it!"
"Now, please!"
"Because you were going to fall asleep."
"Because you woke me up at THREE A.M.!"
"Derek?"
"I—had—an—issue."
"You—have—many!"
"Sam?"
"You know what I meant!"
"I like to sleep."
"Help. Me."
"Kind of irrelevant, no?"
"No."
"Derek."
"Yes."
"No."
"Derek."
"It is."
"It isn't."
"LET ME GO!" I released immediately, for fear of permanent hearing damage.
"Um—ow!" Casey stood up with a huff.
"I like standing." She straightened out her clothes, Sam and I looking at her—frightened. "Besides, you were fighting over whether or not Derek liking sleep was relevant to you argument." She paused. "And, actually, it was somewhat relevant." Sam grumbled and I grinned in triumph.
"Thank you, Casey."
"I will never understand the male species."
"Fair enough."
--
Apparently, Sam was going to be incredibly annoying during out trip to the Empire State Building, so that had to be cut short. Casey spent much of that time smacking the back of Sam's head, for bringing up unpleasant memories of his mother. She told him to 'respect that she's trying'. I laughed. Loudly, and for a large period of time. Casey called me a moron and told me to 'respect that Sam is going through a rough time'. I laughed again.
"Casey likes me better, Derek." I nodded sarcastically.
"Oh yeah, that's why it's me she's dating."
"She's just trying to get to me."
"Truth be told I dislike you both immensely and equally at this moment." She chimed in as we walked through the park—it always ends there, doesn't it?—eating ice cream. Sam and I had strangely large piles atop our cones as opposed to Casey's mere scoop.
"Momentary roadblock, hon. It is easily dealt with." I said breezily.
"Of course, it's not so easy getting rid of me."
"Because you don't need getting rid of. I told you, dude, she likes me better." Casey walked ahead of us, biting at the edge of her cone, paying us no heed.
"I'm the better man; she obviously cares for me more."
"I'm the hockey player."
"So am I." Sam protested, sounding offended.
"Fine, fine. I'm the better hockey player."
"You're the pansy hockey player." I scoffed.
"No such thing exists."
"Until now."
"Yes. I suppose you qualify for the role."
"I'm going to hurt the two of you if this doesn't end, and soon."
"It will, hon. Don't fret. One more point will give me the respect and praise I deserve."
"Oh? And what is this brilliant point?" I grinned cockily as I held Casey back from advancing further and placed a soft kiss on her lips. I was vaguely aware she had dropped her ice cream in surprise bound was happy when she placed her palms on my neck. Sam grumbled vehemently. Suddenly something cold was running through my hair and down the back of my neck. I pulled from Casey with a start—staring after a running Sam with shock.
"I can't believe he had the gall to do that!" Casey was laughing from behind a hand clamped hard on her mouth. I placed my hand in my hair, still bewildered by the forwardness behind the act. "Go Sam!" I mumbled in disbelief. "OF course, I'll have to get him back for that. But I'll let him have his moment of glory." Casey stuck her pinkie finger in her mouth.
"You're sticky." Her brows furrowed. "And chocolaty." I sighed. "You know, you made me drop my ice cream." I frowned at my sticky and chocolate-coated hand.
"To be honest, I'd rather not go back and get more." I'd never been a huge fan of chocolate. The scent was sickening. Casey laughed.
"Come on. You can get Sam back for his evil doings after you wash your hair." She sent a strange look to my hair. "As soon as possible." I didn't know if she was referring to washing my hair, or getting revenge on Sam by her defiant 'as soon as possible'; but it candidly didn't matter. Both would come in—short—due time.
I would have my day. Sam would get what he deserved. (To my dismay, that wouldn't hold chocolaty terror because the creep liked chocolate).
But I digress.
--
"What are you going to do?" Casey whispered as we watched Sam in his suite, lounging on a sofa, watching television with—I was happy to notice—his toque on. He was strange, but predictably so.
"It's already done." I mumbled to her gladly. She raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Really?" I nodded fervently.
"Just go in there all weepy-like. Sit on the end cushion. Don't get embarrassed. Just wiggle a lot. Oh! And made a stink about his toque a little while into it. Make sure you lift the pillow behind you and shove what I hid behind in his face when he looks back—when the toque is off. You'll see why." She nodded.
"Okay."
"Try to cry. He dislikes it almost as much as I do." She rolled her eyes, muttering something like, 'insensitive cads' before putting on her façade and walking into the room.
Oh well, can't win 'em all.
I watched, transfixed.
"Oh, Sam! It was terrible. He got all j-jealous and started saying such-ch hor-horrible things! W-why'd you have to go and put that ice—ice cream in his hair?! Oh, it really s-set him o-ff. He was ranting all ov-ver." She fell onto the end cushion with a loud plop. The whoopee cushion spattered loudly. As instructed, she wiggled ruthlessly, leaving Sam looking quite uncomfortable.
"T-take off that awf-awful hat, Sam." She wiggled before leaning over and taking it off his head. She sobbed and pointed at his head. "He—he went too far! Does it burn? Oh G-God; I can't b-believe he put Na-Nair in your toque!" Sam's eyes widened comically. I hadn't actually put Nair, but Casey made an excellent show that I had. She was quite good at this. It was only honey.
"What?" Sam said; frenzied. He turned his head to grab a mirror from the side table—the mirror I'd placed there, thank you. Casey gripped the pillow behind her and grinned as she noticed the pie sitting under the pillow—unharmed, because of my expertise in the matter—and grinned briefly before putting the façade back on. "I don't think it's—"
He turned back and Casey shoved the pastry in his face without hesitation. He spluttered under the whipped topping and wiped out the substance from around his eyes.
"Fantastic. I should have known he'd plan something to get me back." I entered the room, laughing loudly and bent over as Casey stood at my side. "I just can't believe you worked with the devil." Casey grinned.
"The devil has really nice hair." Casey ran her fingers through it and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end from the sensation.
"Told you she likes me better." Sam scowled at me.
"For now." He looked cocky again. "Good will always triumph over evil." I grinned back.
"Ah—but you were the first to act on a wrongdoer's whim, were you not? My act was only one of which to teach you a lesson." I put my arm around Casey's waist. "I have an angel on my side to confirm." Casey's cheeks glowed bright red.
"An angel in cahoots with the devil. The world will end in tragedy, won't it?"
"'Fraid, so, my friend." I placed a kiss on the crown of Casey's head. "Also, I found her first." Sam looked amused.
"She yelled at you."
"Well—technically. But I caught her!" I grinned again. "Multiple times." Casey bit her lip.
"I'm clumsy." She added unnecessarily.
"Yes, we know." I supplied kindly. She mumbled under her breath.
"Thus, I lose to the devil."
"Oh, you aren't giving up?" I asked. "It certainly is no fun without competition to trample on."
"For now. I will return with vengeance. No worries, my devilish friend."
"Devilishly handsome friend." Casey's head was resting against my shoulder when she gasped and jumped.
"Oh!" Sam and I jumped with her.
"What's wrong?" We asked together. She waved us off.
"Nothing's wrong." I raised my eyebrows.
"Okay…" Sam said slowly.
"I just remembered." She smiled at me and pulled an envelope out of her tote bag. "It's for Dad's wedding." I blinked at the envelope as she said she needed to leave and told us goodbye. I read over the elegant, gold script at the top of the card. You are Cordially Invited to Attend the Holy Matrimony of Dennis McDonald and Lily-Anne Manning… there was more; but I didn't think to continue on with it. Sam looked over my shoulder.
"Oh. Well." He mumbled stupidly.
Joy. Just when I thought the drama had fled.
A/N: I suck, I'm aware!!! Good Lord, this took FAR TOO LONG to be posted. I know I'm terrible. But I just kept writing and deleting because I didn't think I was getting Derek's character right. I still think he's a bit off. I apologize for the terribly large amount of time it took to get this up. Hopefully I'll be better from now on. Thank you so much to those who are reviewing! I've been getting notices again, so I'm going to try reviewing personally again. I hope you liked this chapter!
I had to get some Sam in there because I didn't feel up to writing full-fledged Dasey, though they have their moments. I just want to say, the readers of any of my fics are AMAZING! I still get Alerts and Favourites and Reviews. It's incredible considering how long I've been inactive for. So, just, thank you so much for that. I can't begin to explain how much I appreciate that. I know I've been awful with this. Thank you, for sticking by with this story! It means so much, honestly.
(Happy belated Thanksgiving to all my American readers!!)
--Alaina