Yes, I'm a horrible person. I don't know why these updates are so difficult for me. I was brilliantly inspired three times this weekend and last, but it was crazy and I couldn't get to a computer. Then I got inspired on the wrong part of the story. So I'll have to fake it. Oh well, enjoy anyway.
Disclaimer: Owners of televisions shows get money, acknowledgement and perks. I don't.
Wednesday came quickly, and Derek found himself almost wishing he could skip the game. Not that he would miss hockey, but he knew his dad would probably make the evening uncomfortable, purposely or not. He still cringed at the thought of his dad giving him the talk, and this time his dad actually scheduled the conversation. He could only guess what it was about. Kendra called to talk after he got off work, and he was surprised to find she didn't mention dresses or flowers in the first five minutes. She had been fairly good about that all week, and he vaguely hoped it would last. She had come over twice that week to talk about planning, but for the most part didn't complain when he went about business as usual as she discussed things with her cousin.
He was altogether sure he would never escape the irritation that was Jenny, but found she was somewhat bearable as long as someone else was around. At least she couldn't give him the third degree with Kendra in the room.
"So, as soon as I get Marti's dress, the bridesmaids will be easy," Kendra finished easily bringing Derek back to the voice on the other line. Maybe he should have been paying attention; he knew it was too much to hope that she would leave him out of more wedding details.
"So, when do you need that by?" he asked resignedly.
"Pretty soon, actually. We don't have that much time to plan," she reminded. "But you don't need to worry about it," she announced after a moment, obviously aware that he would be immensely relieved and sounding pleased with herself.
"Why?" he asked warily. Kendra wasn't one to drop something she wanted, and he was one of the few who could satiate his little sister.
"Actually, Jenny and I are on our way to Toronto. I needed help looking for the bridesmaids, and when happened to mention that I was worried about Marti she offered to handle it."
"She's handling it?" he asked skeptically. He should be glad to be off the hook, but he was rather doubtful at Jenny's competence, not to mention her motives. She could be doing it to help out her cousin, but he didn't trust her.
"Yeah," Kendra replied, sounding slightly surprised herself. "I don't know how she did it, but Marti's going with her. Apparently they've bonded or something," she told him, air quotes evident in her tone. "But they should be able to pick out something between the two of them. I even got Jenny to follow my guidelines," she interjected, pleased. "You have no idea how hard it is to convince Jenny to do things my way."
He smirked and shook his head. He could probably guess. He wasn't quite sure if she could handle it, but felt vague gratitude. If he was off the hook, he could ignore whatever ulterior motives Kendra's insane cousin might have. At least for the time being.
"Well, we're here," Kendra announced with slight rattling on her end of the line. "I've got to go. Love you, Derry."
"Love you, Kendra," he replied, rolling his eyes but allowing slight affection in his half-grin. He couldn't seem to break her of that habit. The line clicked and he shoved the phone in his pocket, grabbing his keys and heading for the door.
"Derek, hi," Nora greeted thirty minutes later, emerging from the kitchen as he closed the front door behind him. "How are you?"
"Fine," he replied easily.
"How are things at work?" she asked, and he rolled his eyes; she was obviously avoiding immediate questions about the wedding, but he could tell she wanted to know.
"Good. Kendra's good, too. Busy with all those plans I'd rather ignore," he told her, grinning when she realized he beat her to the punch.
"Oh. Well, I can't help but be curious," Nora said with a smile. "George is in the kitchen. I made him wait to order the pizza," she told him with a slight conspiring tone.
"Thanks, Nora," Derek acknowledged as he slung his jacket over the back of a chair and walked toward the kitchen.
Two hours later found Derek and his father sitting on the couch surrounded by paper plates and empty soda cans. The game was less interesting than most, but they still found things to complain about and occasionally shout about with vague motions for the TV. A commercial break started and they relaxed into the cushions, momentarily free from their investment in the television.
"So," Marti announced dramatically, pulling the males' attention from the commercials on the screen to the teenager descending the stairs. "What do you think?" she finished, pausing on the landing to flair her arms and shrug her shoulders cutely.
Derek had to fight back a laugh. "Loose a bet, Smarti?" he wondered, resulting in his little sister rolling her eyes and abandoning her dramatic pose to walk over to a chair.
"No," she said pointedly, gesturing to her outfit. "I'm getting in character." Derek had no idea what production the high school was putting on, and the extent of his knowledge on Marti's role was that she was quiet. This, however, was as far from Marti as clothing could get. Nowhere did he see rips, bright colors or odd styles. She looked like Casey would look in a stereotypical world. "I'm going to wear it all week," she informed them, lowering herself gracefully to the couch and smoothing the plain skirt. "To remind myself of quiet and sophisticated."
"Not that same outfit?" sounded in scandalized tones from the kitchen and Derek glanced up to see Casey setting her purse on the table as she walked toward them. What was she doing there? Couldn't she go one week without seeing Nora? He fought back a mental groan, for once not torn between wanting to see her and wanting to forget she existed. If his Dad's conversation went the direction he thought it would, having Casey around would not be good for his mental state.
"No, Casey." Marti sounded as if she were answering an over-protective parent with an obvious answer.
"I just wanted to make sure," Casey defended herself. "With the Venturis, you never know," she muttered, and Derek felt a bit of the tension melt from his posture as a wry smile formed like it always did when she reminded him of her old self. She was still her old self around everyone else, he supposed, which was why she sometimes slipped up when other people were present. She turned to leave and Marti cleared her throat.
"Casey, don't you always tell me it's rude not to acknowledge someone?" she asked innocently, twitching a smile.
Casey turned and seemed surprised to see Derek sitting on the couch by his Dad. He wouldn't be surprised if she had trained herself not to notice him.
"Oh. Derek. Hi," she said placidly, giving him a polite half-smile.
"Hey, Case," he returned half-heartedly, glancing up briefly before his attention returned to the final seconds of a burger ad.
"How's work?" she asked, apparently intent on the distraction of small talk. He started to shrug, but the commercial ended and hockey filled the screen once more.
"Derek, the game's back on," his Dad announced unnecessarily. "Casey, it was nice seeing you," he added shortly before ignoring her, leaving her to walk off in mild annoyance. George had no intention of being rude, but sometimes he lacked the proper focus to watch sports and practice manners at the same time. She walked backed toward the kitchen and the boys heard the basement door open before they dismissed her to watch the game, some more successfully than others. Marti remained perched on the chair for a few minutes before growing bored and drifting off with an over-practiced air of high society. Derek managed to focus on the game after a rather interesting play, but he was distracted enough to notice Casey leave sometime before it ended.
The game ended rather boringly, and George pretended he didn't have an agenda as he invited Derek into the kitchen for ice cream afterwards. As Derek slid onto the barstool with his bowl his dad watched him, until finally Derek made a 'continue' gesture that made George start in surprise. After a moment he sighed and accepted his lack of subtlety before getting to the point.
"I hate to say it, son; but you have no experience in relationships."
Derek looked at his dad, taken aback. "Dad," he said patronizingly once he had a few seconds to recover. "Get serious. What did you drag me over here to talk about?"
But his dad didn't break out into a grin like he expected. "I am serious, Derek. I've never seen you in a real relationship. With someone other than family," he added as Derek opened his mouth. Derek's mouth snapped shut, more from what George didn't know than what he had said. "And what exactly is a real relationship?" he asked instead.
His Dad gave him a look and rolled his eyes. "Look, Derek. We both know you've always been 'in with the ladies,' but this isn't high school anymore."
Derek knew his Dad was referring to his dating life in college and his lack of any actual relationships aside from Kendra. Derek had always been smooth, but his playboy tendencies seemed to increase steadily throughout his secondary education. Of course, there was a reason for that, but no one seemed to think he might be avoiding something. They just chalked it up to immaturity and he let them; as much as he wanted to ignore everything himself, it would be worse were anyone to find out.
"You need more than attraction and mild feelings to get by," George continued, breaking Derek from his thoughts. "You have to work at it. Marriage is a big deal, son."
Derek nodded understandingly. He had thought that was why his dad arranged this. "Ah, so that's it. Marriage. And Kendra."
"I'm not saying anything against Kendra," George defended. "Just make sure you'll put in the effort before you go through with this."
"Dad, I know what I'm doing," Derek assured. He was mostly convinced of that himself. Sure there were uncertainties, but what choices didn't have a grey area? He had never been the 'think things through' kind of guy, and constantly trying to figure out a situation had never suited him. Whenever he did try to work things out, it seemed to end in disaster. Everything was good now; why mess with it? "It will be fine," he finished confidently.
"Alright," George agreed warily. "Just remember what I said. Everything changes when you get married."
"Sure, Dad," Derek dismissed easily. It wasn't like he hadn't heard that two hundred times already. He was glad when his dad dropped the topic and they moved on to other things. A few hours later he realized he still had work in the morning and said a quick goodbye before heading home.
It was raining pretty badly by the time he got back to his apartment, and despite running toward the door he was completely soaked by the time he made it to the building. For once he hung his jacket on the hook, hoping it would dry by morning, and made his way to the bedroom for some dry clothes. Ten minutes later he was in flannel pants and a band shirt, running a towel over his hair as he walked toward the kitchen. Tossing the towel over a chair, he grabbed a box of pasta, clicked on the stove, and set about making lunch for the following day. It was too much effort to wake up and make it, and if that meant he had to eat microwaved food, so be it. A knock sounded at the door and he glanced up, surprised. His visitors rarely let him know in advanced, but it was ten' o'clock on a Wednesday and the rain was still pouring. Abandoning his meal, he trudged toward the door, unlocked the deadbolt and pulled it open.
"Holy shit, it's cold out here," Jenny announced, wringing her hair out on the mat and walking past a confused Derek into the living room to start wiping off her glasses.
"What are you doing here?" Derek asked when he recovered himself, annoyance evident in his tone.
"Do you expect me to drive in that?" she wondered rhetorically, rolling her eyes. "If I somehow managed to see through my glasses, I wouldn't have been able to see past the windshield."
"You mean those aren't just for show?" Derek asked sarcastically.
"No, in fact; they're not. And I don't have a key to Kendra's apartment," she added as an afterthought.
"Where is Kendra?" he asked with a sigh.
"She decided to stay the night in Toronto, take a cab back in the morning," she explained easily as she dumped her purse on the coffee table and slid off her jacket. "But I told Marti I'd pick her up for lunch tomorrow."
He rolled his eyes. Why was Jenny suddenly best friends with his baby sister? "And what, my apartment is a hotel?"
"We're practically family," she dismissed, kicking off her shoes and dropping them by the door. Family, he thought blandly, managing not to cringe. Great. He realized that he should probably pretend to be hospitable, but he wasn't really in the mood.
"I'm calling Kendra," he announced, striding over to his bedroom. Maybe she could convince her cousin to leave. Anyway, there was still a possibility that the roads were drivable.
"I already called her," Jenny announced with a hint of amusement at his efforts as she followed him into the room. "Actually, she was the one that suggested I stop by. Said to remind ' Derry' that I'd be his cousin soon, too."
He stood with one hand on the phone, searching for a way out of this. Despite Jenny winning Marti over and the fact that she was bearable in small doses, Derek did not want to deal with her any longer than necessary. Finding no solution, he sighed and announced: "You're sleeping on the couch." He was not going to give her his bed. She shrugged, unfazed. Shifting heavily, Derek pointed to the bottom drawer of his dresser.
"Find yourself something to wear," he muttered, annoyed, before walking back into the kitchen without stopping to see if she took his advice. He had managed to subdue most of his aggravation by the time she emerged in a pair of Kendra's pajama pants, secured with a tightly pulled drawstring. She appeared almost perky, and Derek vaguely wondered how someone could take absolutely everything in stride. Things got to Kendra more than they got to her.
"Do I annoy you?" she asked flippantly, leaning over the high counter separating the kitchen from the living room to watch him stir the pasta he had resumed making moments before.
"Honestly?" he asked, glancing up. "Yes," he said frankly at her nod, turning back to his task.
"Thought so," she announced, almost triumphant. "I have a theory as to why that is," she continued, moving into the kitchen and plopping herself into a chair.
"I'm sure you do," Derek said offhandedly. If there was one thing to be said of Kendra's cousin, it was that she had an opinion on everything.
"I think," Jenny announced, ignoring the interruption, "That I force you to think of things you'd rather forget. I don't drop it like my cousin."
He focused on the swirling of noodles and water, steadfastly ignoring the images that rose in his brain.
"How do you figure that?" he asked, forcing a disinterested quality to his voice.
"You didn't have a problem with me at the engagement party," she pointed out. "Well, until you freaked out and left," she added dismissively. "But when I asked a few simple questions about the past, bam, you hate me."
"You ditched my fiancée to break into my house and hit on me," Derek retorted blandly.
She shrugged. "But that's not why you don't like me," she countered easily. "And I'm honestly curious," she continued, scooting her chair to face him and crossed her legs. "What's the deal with you and my cousin?"
"Meaning?" he asked in vaguely sardonic tones as he continued to stir his dinner.
"You don't have real arguments, you don't discuss your problems, you don't bring up the past or let her know what's bothering you," Jenny railed off. She had obviously been paying a little too much attention. "Why are you getting married?" she ended bluntly. Derek quickly turned his head to watch her and she corrected herself. "Don't get me wrong. I love my cousin. I think you're a pretty good guy. Looks and personality," she added, flashing a grin. "But something just doesn't add up here," she continued, raising a brow. Derek wondered vaguely if it was a bad sign that two different people had questioned his marriage in one night. "Unless there's something I'm missing," she added, hinting toward the still hazy idea of their history.
"How can that topic possibly interest you that much?" he wondered, frustrated. "There's nothing ground-breaking in the past. We met in high school. We started dating. It started to get serious, but there was a lot of drama going on. We broke up, and three years later we got back together. What is possibly so interesting about that?"
"That's a lot of plot holes," she pointed out, and he rolled his eyes.
That's because I don't want to talk about that, he retorted in his brain. "Do you want to hear about every single date we ever went on?" he asked, half sarcastic, half exasperated.
"No. But the basic story would be nice," she said easily, watching him for a response. "So," Jenny said after a moment, turning to him with interest. She slid forward to the edge of the chair, crossing her legs professionally and propping her chin with a fist, all mock flippancy.
"'So' nothing," Derek said firmly, using the spoon block the pasta as he drained the water from the pot.
"No, I really am interested," she persisted, her mouth half-twisted inquisitively as she raised one eyebrow, unmistakably curious for both her cousin's sake and her own desire to know.
He ignored her as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured the pasta into it. He continued to ignore her as he dashed salt on the meal and snapped the plastic lid into place. Sliding the container to the back of the counter, he turned to face her and noted with some irritation that she was still watching him expectantly, apparently content to wait as long as necessary. Normally Derek would be perfectly happy to let her bore herself, but as reluctant as he was he knew she wouldn't leave him alone until she heard something. Might as well make it what I want her to hear, he decided with a mental sigh, finally moving to drop into the seat across from her. At least that way I can ignore everything else.
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Yeah, not completely sure how I feel about this. I was debating whether this was moving too quickly, but eventually said screw it. I'm trying to stay away from a beast of a story, and writing filler chapters won't help. And I liked the characterizations in some of it, but not throughout. But hopefully it was still okay. Tell me what you think.
