A/N: Yay, reviews! Glad to get them! Here's chapter two, for your reading pleasure.
Chapter Two: Aw Shit
When Casey arrived at the station, she was greeted by a woman in police blues at the front desk who was giving her a wry smile.
"You here for Venturi?"
Casey nodded, carefully, unsure if the woman's familiarity with Derek's case was a good or bad omen. She was instructed to sign in, give her contact information, and sign off on a paper that said she would be held responsible for Derek until his hearing with the QU security office in a few days. After waiting for another ten minutes for her information to pass muster, she was escorted past the intake area.
The place was not nearly as jail-like as Derek had implied – although he was being kept behind bars in a holding area. She was surprised (or was she, really?) to find Derek (and yes, he was wearing his leather jacket) chatting good-naturedly with the policeman on duty who was watching over him. No one else was in his particular holding cell, although someone was sleeping in a cell further down the hall.
She had to admit, she envied her stepbrother's ability to somehow get everyone to like him. Even, apparently, the cops.
At nearly 4 in the morning.
After – she had learned – being in a bar fight, cursing out the manager, and then drunkenly urinating on a cop car.
How he had a cop smiling and laughing with him now of all times, she found nearly impossible to believe. But there he was, hair all mussed and looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with an 'I can't help it' sort of shrug, and the cop – glancing over his shoulder at Casey – was shaking his head and smiling as he unlocked the cell door.
The cop clapped Derek on the back with a firm, almost fatherly, hand. "You're a good kid, Venturi." Then he pointed to Casey with cheerful warning, "You keep him out of trouble, missy, y'hear?"
Casey nodded dumbly, then looked to Derek in bewilderment.
Derek's sheepish smile had curved into a mischievous smirk once he'd turned away from the cop, and as he slung an arm around her shoulders, steering her back out to the front, he leaned toward her and spoke under his breath. "Yeah, missy," his voice was low, mocking, almost snickering, and he smelled like stale beer and old leather and cinnamon and wood; "Good luck with that." And then they were walking past the front desk and he was shooting a humble grin at the policewoman there, wishing her a good night – "or rather, good morning" – and then they were out.
Casey was incredibly confused. He'd called, sounding like he was in some real distress, and yet there he'd been joking with the police and putting his arm around her and- why was his arm still around her?
She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. "Just a few more seconds, Princess…" he risked a glance over his shoulder as they reached the car, and let go of her so she could walk around to the driver's side.
Once they were in, and she'd started the engine to warm up the car (those cold fall nights in Ontario), she stared at him. Or, more accurately, glared at him. She may be confused, but with Derek it was a safe bet to assume anger was the appropriate response.
"What?" He was smirking.
"Der-ek." She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing even further.
"Christ - calm down, Space Case." He seemed to take his own advice even as he was speaking to her, facing forward and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make it lay flat, as he shifted to lay back in his seat. The tension he hadn't been showing seemed to be melting off of him now as he let out a comfortable sigh.
She continued to glare.
Catching her eyes again, Derek rolled his. "What do you want to know, Spacey?"
"Well first off…" What was first off? She had a lot of questions, and had only been given cursory answers to anything. "What happened tonight?"
He gave her a bemused look, like he knew she already knew, but answered – in a voice that one might use to explain to someone very slow – "Well, I went to a bar with some friends…"
When her lips thinned angrily, he continued, a smirk settling on his lips. "…and I may have had some drinks…" it was like he was dragging it out to torture her – which he probably was – "…and one thing lead to another-"
"Derek."
"Okay. …So… Mike was shit-talking with this guy about who would win in a cage match between Gretzky and Beckham in their prime years - and obviously it would be Gretzky because I mean, come on, soccer players are such pussies – but this guy said Gretzky couldn't even beat up a kid and he tried to change the channel to some bullshit soccer station but that was just not gonna happen, so Mike takes a swing at the guy but this dude ducked and just slammed him in the face, so – naturally – I had to stand up for the kid-"
As Derek explained – first the fight, being kicked out, then the argument with the manager (who, apparently, was the worst Canadian in history - at least according to Derek), the angry (and drunken) retaliation of public urination, and the resulting arrest and subsequent sobering up – Casey was once again in awe. Disdainful and feeling especially mature and superior, but in awe nonetheless. Her stepbrother was like a walking good luck charm: despite all his troubles, nothing seemed to stick.
"…and then you finally showed up to bail me out – thanks for that, by the way."
In one breath he both berated her and gave her the most flippant thank you for a (Casey thought) high tension situation she'd ever heard. It was slightly infuriating. Her lips were pouted in a slight scowl as she watched the road on the way back to Derek's apartment building (an apartment he shared with two teammates from the QU hockey team).
"So…" She hesitated and shot him a sidelong glance before barreling forward with her line of questioning. "What was with the, erm… awkward arm business?" She blushed slightly as she thought of it, but otherwise admitted no discomfort.
She wasn't big on touching – especially from Derek, 'cause his touches almost always had ulterior motives (leaving a dirty hand print on her shirt, placing an insulting sign on her back, or just moving her out of his way). Plus, she used to be more wary about keeping things strictly familial between them, given their closeness in age, and had decided less interaction kept things simpler. Touching - when it wasn't fighting - had just been something that she tried to avoid whenever possible. Tonight was no different.
"Oh, that?" He looked amused at her reddened cheeks – though she'd been sure he wouldn't see in the low-light. "I suppose you're not used to having physical contact with the opposite sex, are you, Klutzilla?"
She just shot him a glare.
He shrugged, "I'd been feeding them a story about how my behavior was so unusual, and how it was probably psychological regression after making a big commitment-"
"Wow, a five syllable word, I'm impressed-" she faltered with her insult. Had he-? She opened her mouth again, suspicion growing and voice becoming strained as she managed a choked, "- big commitment?"
Derek's maddening smirk seemed more sadistic than ever. "Well, of course once I got back to my super-responsible fiancée she'd make sure I kept within the confines of the law."
He hadn't even finished the explanation before her eyes had widened and she'd blurted: "Fiancée?!" Casey's knuckles went white on the wheel but – true to her reputation – maintained a safe and responsible vehicle speed, despite her raised voice.
He snorted at her reaction. "Cool it, Case – I just needed them to be convinced that I didn't need any kind of recommendation for jail time or community service or anything. Plus, they tend to eat up romantic shit, so I went with it. The arm around the shoulders was least vomit-inducing gesture I could figure that would sell the story." His delight in her discomfort was despicable.
"You're despicable."
He grinned. "Hey, look at it this way: I am in your debt." He folded his hands behind his head, leaning back and putting his feet up on the dash. "So - what can I help you with, Princess?"
A/N: The title for this chapter, in case you were wondering, is about the only line I thought could work for a title from Ben Fold's 'Army.' Which I started listening to about the time I was thinking of how Derek might smell after a bar fight. Some songs work better for titles than others. If you have a song you think could lend itself to good chapter titles, let me know! And also review!
