And The Winner Is...
By TheBucketWoman
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I officially write for Life With Derek, could you just imagine the table reads if I did?
Chapter Nineteen
Part One: Derek
Speech therapy was...awkward to say the least. There was, as expected, a series of humiliating vocal exercises that he was apparently going to have to practice whether he liked it or not. Nick, the speech pathologist, it turned out, had trained as an opera singer, and seemed to enjoy nothing more than demonstrating this type of thing. It was something to see. Nick was about 5'3"and weighed maybe as much as Lizzie, but the voice of a three hundred pounder came out of him. Derek briefly imagined being blown out of the office by the wind the man produced, except that he was producing surprisingly little wind for all that noise. Derek hoped that Nick didn't expect him to imitate what he'd just done. He'd have a stroke.
"Does any of this sound like something you've seen before, Derek?" Nick said, smiling at the look of shock and unease on Derek's face.
"My girlfriend is a singer," Derek said. "She's done...some of this."
"Yep," Nick said. "Basically, Derek, what you're getting here are singing lessons."
"Mhmm," Derek said, mainly because some response seemed called for. Then he said, "I should probably warn you that nothing in the world will help my singing, but if you think this'll help otherwise, then okay."
Nick laughed. "I'm sure I've heard worse," he said.
"Trust me," Derek said. "You haven't."
After an hour or so of singing scales (with orders to practice at home), Derek left the place a little shell-shocked. Normally his first instinct would be to do the therapy, but to bitch and moan all the way through, the way he did when his Dad made him clean the garage or rake the yard. But today he'd spent some time in a waiting room filled with people in much worse shape than he was, so he kept most of his comments to himself.
Afterward, as he walked up the block trying to remember where he parked, he found Casey leaning on the hood of the car. He'd left her at home that morning, hoping to deal with the unpleasantness on his own, but he was glad to see her at that moment. She leaned toward him expecting their customary peck, but he surprised her with a really enthusiastic, if brief kiss.
"How'd it go?" she asked.
"Weird," he said. "But okay I guess."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, and for once, she let it go at that.
Part Two: Casey
Instead of bugging him, she took him to Smelly Nelly's for sandwiches. There wasn't really anyone left from their brief stint working there, so nobody bothered them. He ate his Italian combo(red vinegar dripping everywhere and lingering on his hands even after he washed them) in silence and she had her avocado wrap while trying to respect his silence until she couldn't take it anymore.
"Okay," she said. "You look traumatized. Was it really that bad?"
"Huh?" he said looking at her like he'd never seen anything like her before. Then he shook his head and seemed to come back to Earth and said: "No, I was thinking of something."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Whether or not to let Edwin live," he said.
Casey laughed. "What'd he do this time?"
He thought for a minute, a look on his face that was usually reserved for raw broccoli.
"I might need to have a talk with him," he said, using air quotes.
"About what?" she said. "You're being all cryptic again. I can't imagine what he could've tried to pull on you; he's been so busy making out with Lizzie—"
Derek raised an eyebrow.
"What," Casey said. "You think...come on, they're fourteen, and I think they only started kissing yesterday."
"Your point?"
"And isn't that your Dad's job?" Casey said. "Anyway, he's already given Edwin the birds and the bees speech. Edwin didn't stop shuddering for days. Neither did your Dad, for that matter"
"Don't forget, I had the talk twice," Derek said. "I might be a little bit slower on the uptake than Ed is, but the two of them are alone in the house right now..." He let the statement hang in the air.
Without another word, Casey got up and went to the cashier for the check.
Later, in the car, they tried to work out the logistics.
"Should we stop at the drugstore?" Casey said. It was a good thing that she was driving, because Derek would have crashed the car. As it was, she could see him gripping the dashboard out of the corner of her eye.
"N-n-n," he began, but then said "Y-yeah, probably." He began to mutter "oh Gods" like a mantra as she pulled into the parking lot of the drugstore.
"Are you coming in with me, or what?" she said, turning off the ignition.
"OhGodOhGodOhGod."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"OhGodOhGodOhGod."
"Do you need to throw up?" Casey said, as they whooshed through the automatic doors and they were hit with the air conditioning.
"Not yet," he said. He took a deep breath, and at least partially collected himself. She made a mental note to pick up some Pepto Bismol while they were there.
"This was your idea, you know," Casey said.
"Uh-huh," Derek said. "Why are we in the shampoo aisle?"
"I'm running out of mousse," she said grabbing a bottle. "Kiwi or mango?"
"Think we can focus, here?" he said.
"I can," she said. "I'm waiting for you." She smiled at him. His panic, oddly enough had a calming effect on her. She pictured him at his wedding. Whether or not he married her, it would be fun to watch him hyperventilate at the altar. She put a hand on his cheek.
"Mango," he said.
"Kiwi it is, then," she joked, pretending to put the kiwi one into their basket, but going with the mango instead.
He rolled his eyes, but seemed a lot steadier.
"Go get us some Altoids, and some sunblock—spf 30, okay? I'll meet you at the checkout," Casey said, having decided that the best way to do this was by sending him on a goose chase while she went to the family planning aisle herself.
The cashier looked Casey up and down, when she saw what she was buying. This was the same woman (25 years old at least) who winked at Derek on their way in. And she's looking at me like I'm dirty, she thought. Any other day, she might have been tempted to say something, but she wanted to hurry up and get home so they could all have their little talk, and then get the carnage cleaned up before their parents got home.
Part Three: Derek
"Ed!" Derek said as they walked through their front door.
"Yo," Edwin said from the kitchen. Derek headed right for him.
Edwin had been in the middle of taking the plastic off of a bag of microwave popcorn and he stood next to the island with the little folded bag in one hand and the wrapper in the other.
"Upstairs," Derek said.
A/N: He he...cliffie...dun dun duuuun. And by the way...I meant what I said in the last post. Though I realize that the method of voice therapy might suggest otherwise, I have no intention of turning Derek into a singer. Those who have done so or are planning to do so in other fics, please continue because it's entertaining, but I shall not.