A/N: Guys! It's working! Cross-inspiration! I managed to get working on chapter 33 of The Detention (my current HP fic – go check it out! Similar witty banter abounds! And feminist Ginny takes no guff!), after stalling out on it for a couple weeks. Unfortunately, now I seem to be stalling in chapter 12 of this story, but I bet I can come up with something. Reviews are always useful, especially ones that comment on how things are going or what you want to happen/guess might happen. And it's not too late to review the first four chapters, either! ;D

Shoutouts to Balyndaba, eloisemariehampton and DC2012 for reviewing, eloisemariehampton, Randomnessismee, DC2012 and The-blue-eyed-dreamer for favoriting, and simplewordsandcompany and eloisemariehampton for following!

I'm also looking for a beta to check out upcoming chapters and let me know how the plot looks, and how to move the story forward more efficiently. Anyone interested?

Anyway, sorry for the whole spiel, without further ado: enjoy chapter five! (I certainly did!)


Chapter Five: The Body That Lies

The 'Prince Charming' Derek had been referring to was, apparently, not Wesley Gable. In fact, if Casey had to guess, the 'Prince Charming' was just Derek's flourish on an old classic: the Prince. Admittedly looking better than it did in high school (though not by much), the car had been just as reliably clunky as ever as it had carried a sulking Casey back to Derek's apartment building.

"I thought you were supposed to be setting me up with Wesley." She glared at him, arms still crossed and chin held up stubbornly as he stopped in a parking space marked for his apartment and got out.

He leaned down to look back through the door at her. "And let you ruin it for yourself before even getting a date? I don't think so. Come on." He gestured for her to leave the Prince.

Casey's eyes sparked at his challenge and she settled herself in the seat, pointedly.

He let out a belabored sigh and shut his door, walking around to hers and opening it. "Come on, Princess. Out."

She began to examine her nails (not that she'd had them done recently – too busy getting used to this semester's classes and extracurriculars to spend time pampering).

Derek let out a huff of laughter and leaned back. "Fine. Freeze yourself to death out here." He shrugged, carelessly. "Just – do me a favor: try not to die in my jacket, I'd hate to have to pry it from your cold and lifeless body."

She turned to glare at him, and he jingled his keys. "What'll it be, Princess? Nice warm apartment…" he held out an arm to help her out, "or Case-sicle?"

Despite his self-satisfied smirk, Casey acquiesced, taking the offered arm and pulling herself from the seat. She half expected him to, in typical Derek fashion, dump her on her ass as soon as she got on her feet, but he surprised her by escorting her up the sidewalk, drawing her closer with an arm around her shoulders (again, with the shoulders thing).

"What- what are you doing?" Casey hissed at him, feeling her cheeks warming (at least she could blame it on the cold, and wouldn't have to admit to the complete and utter discomfort of having her stepbrother's arm around her).

He raised an eyebrow at her, bemused. "You stole my jacket, Case. It's cold." As they got closer to the building, he added, in a low voice, "Besides, it's a Friday night: I need to keep up appearances."

"What's that supposed to-" By the time she figured out just what he meant, they were in the lobby. "Ew!" She sprung away from him, and this time he let her go, chuckling to himself.

"Believe me, Princess, I'd much rather have another girl to fill my Friday quota. But I might as well get my pro-bono charity work done now." He'd pressed the button on the elevator and, when it opened, swept his hands in a 'you first' gesture. She suspected he just wanted to make sure she didn't bolt for the door. He had a 'reputation' to uphold, apparently.

"Thanks," she deadpanned, glaring at him as she passed, taking up a position against the wall to her left. "So glad you took time out of your very busy criminal schedule to stoop so low as to help little ol' me." The words were practically venomous.

He leaned against the opposite wall of the elevator, still wearing that insufferable smirk. "Hey, anything for family." The word was spoken with nearly tangible sarcasm. And then, he had the audacity to wink at her. Actually wink! Who did he think he was, anyway?

Casey's jaw dropped in outrage, but she didn't get a chance to respond before he had – after glancing at the lit track above the door – slid along the wall over to her. His right hand slipped beneath the jacket she wore – his jacket – and cupped her waist in an overly intimate gesture, his fingers splaying out over her ribs in a way that suggested they may have gone higher. He'd just placed his left hand on the wall above her shoulder, blocking her face, and ducked his head down toward hers (a movement that made her eyes widen in shock, her body already having gone stiff at his touch), as the doors dinged and opened.

Casey's eyes were locked on Derek's face (his eyes having avoided hers for this whole exchange), frozen in utter disbelief as he glanced over his shoulder to whoever was in the doorway (blocked from Casey's sight), the smirk on his lips equivalent to that of the cat who ate the canary.

"Sorry, ladies, you'll have to catch the next one." His tone was smug but friendly.

A moment later the doors were closing, and he was slipping away from her again like it was no big deal that he'd been practically feeling up his stepsister in an elevator. "Sorry 'bout that." He didn't sound apologetic at all. In fact, he sounded cool as a cucumber. Almost flippant. "Those would be my stalkers from the fourth floor."

Casey was distracted by – well, everything. Her body was still stiff as a board, her ribs burning where his hand had been, the warmth quickly spreading down her left side. At least when they were in high school she could rationalize their physical contact as normal sibling behavior – wrestling for the remote, or wrestling over a movie, or wrestling around with shaving cream and shampoo… wow, they'd wrestled a lot, hadn't they? Either way: this behavior was not normal sibling behavior. Not even close. It was practically the opposite.

Apparently, Derek had been talking this whole time. "…that they're not my type, but they'll keep checking with the binoculars and all – Jules said Kit keeps a tally and everything-"

Rational Casey took over then, promptly ordering her thoughts and explaining just why Derek's behavior – while unacceptable – was not out of the ordinary. He used people. That's what he did. He was Derek. She was just another female-bodied prop which could stand in for any other female body for the sake of his reputation. He needed a girlfriend prop, she was a girl. Totally normal and not at all freak-out-worthy behavior. …And at least they hadn't seen her face.


A/N: Anyone else feeling a little warm? ;D

This chapter's title is courtesy of Chet Faker's 'Gold' – a song that balances elevator music instruments with a real seductive beat. I highly recommend it. Also, the video is cool. Hot girls roller skate-dancing. (This is better than it sounds.) Maybe check it out and let me know what you think? Or just let me know what you think of the chapter itself? All reviews are welcome and appreciated!

And another reminder that I'm looking for a beta to run plot by.

And reviews on this and my other current fic are both HIGHLY appreciated. You have no idea how much FFNet emails cheer me up on a bad day.