Yay

Yay! Fun chapter! At least, I had fun writing hit. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and can't come up with anything clever to say.

Derek was irritated. He had gone to dinner with his family, and its formality frustrated him to no end; he had put up with Casey, and that damn attitude of hers was driving him crazy; he had taken it out on his fiancée, and the guilt gnawing at him was exasperating; and he had been unable to keep his thoughts from distracting him at work, and now his boss was being a pain.

Now Kendra was out doing some stress shopping (window, he hoped, as she was probably in the mood to borrow his credit card) and Derek was left alone with his thoughts. Try as he might, he just couldn't concentrate on the problem at hand, no matter how important. Whenever he tried, Kendra's face was invariably replaced with Casey's, and he just couldn't fight it anymore. Maybe he needed to indulge, just this once. So he had gone to the one place that, somehow, always reminded him of her.

He knew he was kidding himself if he thought indulging in the past would be in any way beneficial; he had tried it, countless times, before he regained his grip on sense and shoved those memories back where they belonged. Still, he couldn't seem to help himself. So he shut his brain off, a habit formed moments after his first experience with the building, and let the phantoms appear as they would, drifting down the halls of Sir John Sparrow Thompson High.

There was football hall, where he and Sam had played pranks on the football players almost every week of Senior year; there was Kendra's locker, where he had first asked her out and spent so much time ever after; there was the shocking reminder of where he had seen Ralph and Emily macking while they were supposed to be in Algebra. But Casey popped up just as much, as he knew she would: her first Klutzilla moment on the stairs; the office, where she saved him from Mr. L's clutches; the alcove where he found her sobbing one morning, skipping class for probably the first time ever, and he had awkwardly patted her back for a few moments before finding Noel and kicking his ass; and, of course, the building itself, which was witness to too many fights to count.

They had snuck in once. Well, he had. It was the first time he had broken in after graduation, and somewhere in his mind he knew that night was why he came back. She was supposed to be there, organizing the files for some committee. He didn't know why she bothered—after all, what was the point when they were never coming back? She should be living it up, or at the very least packing for University. It was just the way she was, making everything perfect before she left. In a few weeks she would be truly severed from Sir John Sparrow Thompson High, as far learning went, and she had to make sure the next class started off on the right foot. He didn't know why he had decided to crash her organization session. He was looking for a good time and nothing was ever quite as entertaining as Casey, especially when he could rile her up, which was often. But for whatever reason, he had been nearby and before he knew it he was pulling into the parking lot a few spaces away from the only other vehicle on the premises.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the building: duck around the back, a twist of the lock pick, and the door swung right open. The halls were empty, and he had no trouble finding the Extra Curricular Office in the dark hallway. The door was cracked, but Casey was too absorbed in her task to hear his footsteps. Smirking, he nudged the door with enough force for it to bounce against the wall as he leaned against the doorframe. Casey jumped, whirling and clutching the desk behind her before she recognized him and let the tension melt from her shoulders.

"Derek," she hissed, glancing around as if someone would see. "What are you doing here?" He shrugged and she pursed her lips. "How did you get in?" she asked after a moment in warning tones, though she knew the answer as well as he.

He could tell from her glare that she was still pissed about the New York thing. But seriously, it wasn't like it was his fault. She just needed to get over herself.

"It wasn't that hard," he told her, pushing off with his shoulder and walking over to lean against the paper strewn table.

"Derek, breaking and entering is a criminal offense," she reprimanded, sounding none too pleased. "You could get in trouble."

"I'm with you," he reminded offhandedly, well aware that Casey had gone to the principal and gotten official permission as well as the janitor's key.

"You should get in trouble," she retorted, turning back to her work. She didn't say anything further on the matter and Derek grinned, knowing he'd won.

"So tell me," he began in mock helpful tones, swinging easily into the chair and propping one leg on the arm. "What kind of social derision leads a desperate teenage girl to give up a perfectly good summer night to organize files?"

She glanced up, annoyed at the insult. "So tell me," she imitated, tilting her head to one side. "What drives someone who claims to have a thriving social life to pestering their stepsister at night in the empty building they swore they'd never step foot in again?"

He shrugged. "It's not so bad without the teachers and work hanging over your head," he replied, completely evading her question. He wasn't quite sure why he was there himself.

"Work?" She rolled her eyes. "What world do you live in? I wouldn't be surprised if the only homework you ever did was that English Project we did together. Or did you have Sandra 'help you?'" She asked with obvious air quotes as she seated herself diagonal from Derek and began sifting through the papers on the table.

"I said it was hanging over my head; I never said I did any of it. Besides," he went on, "being popular can be hard sometimes. You have to make appearances, flirt with annoying girls, keep everyone entertained . . . ."

"Yeah, sounds like a real challenge," she snarked, purposely not looking up from her work.

"Well you never seemed to manage, did you?" he reminded smugly, allowing a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth when her head came up to glare at him, lips pursed.

"I would have done just fine if it weren't for you," she accused, irritated.

He refrained from making another crack at her social skills. She probably could have managed, eventually—she almost had, at one point—but then his main amusement in life would have disappeared. "Where's the fun in that?" he wondered lazily, smirking at her consternation. It was so much fun to get under her skin, and required surprisingly little effort.

"Derek Venturi, you're just . . ." she trailed off angrily. Or maybe not so surprisingly. Casey never had any sense where he was concerned, a fact which he frequently chose to exploit. "Infuriating," she decided with a huff, crossing her arms to broadcast her annoyance.

Derek sighed, glancing down the hall as the memory continued to play through his mind. It hadn't taken much time or effort before he had gotten Casey truly riled. She had been frustrated with him before he had even dropped by, and despite her pronouncement that the situation wasn't his fault, he knew some part of her held him responsible. Quite soon he had her nearing livid.

"I don't have to put up with you," she stated in an angry huff, pushing back her chair and standing, arms crossed over her chest. "You're not supposed to be here, and I'm sure Mr. Lassiter won't be pleased to find someone broke into his school. Especially you." With that, she turned on her heel and strode confidently out the door.

"What are you going to do, tattle?" Derek mocked as he followed her into the hallway, past his old locker and around the corner. "Break into his office to call him up? I'm sure he'd love that. Casey, breaking the rules to report a violation."

"He never said I couldn't use his office," she retorted superiorly, never slowing her trek.

"He never said you could," Derek replied easily, though he had no way of knowing whether the fact were true. At the slight tightening of her shoulders, he smirked.

"What do you want, Derek?" she asked, whirling to face him. "I'm busy. I have quite a lot of work to do, being responsible and helping out. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Come on, Casey. Organizing the activities files? Teenage girls don't do that. Especially not after they've graduated. It's not like you can pad your resume anymore, anyway. So why don't you just give it up and go home?"

"Because, Derek, I like doing things to help other people. And those files are a mess," she added, trying not to let the mild embarrassment slip into her tone. His mouth twitched a smile. Figures she was doing it for entertainment value.

"Casey, Casey, Casey. If you just wanted some meaning in your life you should have told me. Dad's been telling me to clean my room for years; that would keep you busy well into the new school year."

"Like I would touch that pig sty," she huffed.

"Ah, so the whole 'helping people out' thing is limited to those you find worthy."

"And you don't make the cut," she bit back, annoyed at his amusement.

"I'm so hurt."

Casey sighed in aggravation and turned back the way she came, muttering under her breath as she passed Derek.

"Now where are you going?" Derek wondered, intercepting her movements.

"To finish organizing," she told him pointedly. "Away from annoying stepbrothers who have nothing better to do than pester people." She made to start walking again, blinking in surprise when Derek blocked her path with a firm hand on the locker next to her. "But we were having such a nice conversation," he said, voice dripping with mock hurt. He didn't know why he wouldn't let it go tonight; he just couldn't stop himself from trying to irritate her. Rolling her eyes, she turned to walk around him. The other arm came up before she could dart past him, effectively trapping her. He lowered his head slightly to smirk at her, a gesture she returned with a glare before ignoring him to assess the situation.

He watched her, laughing, as she tried first to shove his arm from its position, finding it firmly anchored, then duck under his arm only to have him hover closer to prevent the movement. He gave her space when she stopped the attempt, but she knew any semblance of a motion to escape would result in him restraining her again. He smirked as she visibly weighed her options and finally, unwillingly, accepted her inferiority in brute strength. She forcibly relaxed the tension in her shoulders and merely stood there, leaning against the lockers with obvious irritation in her countenance and watching him for hints of boredom. He rolled his eyes at the action: Casey just had to take the fun out of everything. He may as well not bother. Derek bent his arms at the elbow to push off the lockers, glancing at Casey to see if his movement caused any more irritation as he hoped. And inexplicably, he found himself not pushing back but hovering there watching Casey, who had caught her breath, seemingly as surprised as he. He couldn't say why the feeling had suddenly risen—they were still almost half a foot apart—but it had been merely seconds and already his thought process was doing far worse than it had with any other girl. Finally, reluctantly, he drew back, despite the protests in his mind. Somewhere in his head he knew that it was best.

Derek Venturi doesn't back away! broke through his thoughts and he halted his retreat. Casey had yet to say a word; she was staring at him almost uncomprehendingly as he fought a momentary battle with himself. His brain instinctively told him to screw the consequences, and Derek couldn't find it in himself to disagree as he grudgingly accepted what he'd been avoiding all summer.

Casey's face was beginning to gain a bit more comprehension, but surprisingly her expression softened into a nervous acceptance rather than the disdainful look he half anticipated. He moved in again slowly, not because he was hesitating, he assured himself, but to keep from breaking the atmosphere that had settled over them. He was beginning to feel her breath on his face when it suddenly shifted in a quick intake, halting his movement. She took the opportunity to jerk her head quickly, forcing Derek to draw back, and watch him as if he would pounce.

"I can't," she began, almost stuttering. She was flustered, he could tell, and trying her best to think reasonably. "I mean, I don't . . . I just . . . don't."

His brow furrowed.

"You don't?" he asked expectantly, knowing what she meant but refusing her the easy way out.

"I don't, Derek. This isn't . . . this is wrong. I don't feel that way." She pulled back until her head was completely pressed against the locker, invigorated by the statement, and took the opportunity to slide under his arm. "I mean," she continued in a slightly stronger voice, facing him as he turned but staying three firm tiles away. "Do you . . . do you think we should . . .? We can't," she repeated finally, processing enough to answer her own question, rattled as she was. "It's not . . . like that," she finished, encompassing their entire relationship in her tone.

It was a lie. He knew it was. Derek was, after all, Master of the Sacred Art of Deceit, and Casey was no prodigy. Yet he had let it go, pretended he believed her. Why had he done that? Was it for his sake or hers? Of course, Derek never did anything without gaining something. But much as he wanted to believe it had been wholly selfish, that it would cause too much drama, that he didn't really feel that much anyway, he knew somewhere that her expression had stopped him. She never could hide her feelings, and her face had been screaming to just forget the whole thing. So he had. Casey needed her order. And when he lied to her, his voice held all the conviction her falsehood had lacked. Then he turned on his heel and walked casually down the hall, leaving her confused in his wake.

Derek couldn't help the squeezing in his chest or the tension filled quirk of his mouth as the memory faded before his eyes. If only it had ended there, things would be so much easier now.

His thoughts were jolted as he heard the distinct ringing sound emitting from his pocket; digging around for his phone, he finally yanked the device free and flipped it open. One new message: Smarti.

Crap, he thought, knowing what it said even as he clicked 'read.' Derek, I know you didn't forget me, but you're about twenty minutes late and I've moved on to bigger and better things. He could hear her sarcasm through starkly printed letters. You better be here soon, or I'll be forced to take drastic measures. And you know how bad that can get.

Flipping the phone shut, he simultaneously shoved it back in his pocket and dug around for the car keys, willingly letting his earlier thoughts dissipate as he hurried back out the janitor's entrance and jimmied the lock shut.

He pulled up to the house not ten minutes later, despite it normally being an almost twenty minute drive. As he let himself in, he heard two distinctly female voices from the back of the house. By no means wanting to investigate, as he was fully aware of whom the other voice belonged to—was she always there?—he plopped down in a nearby chair and let his eyes drift to the window. After being a half-hour late, he knew Marti would make him wait for her, no matter how hungry she was. His eyes moved toward the driveway, and he was startled to find his fiancée slamming the door to her car, parked just beyond his, and making her way to the house. He pulled himself out of the chair and made it to the door seconds after she had rung the bell; swinging it open, he noted an eager look and a large smile before she gave him a quick hug and entered the room.

He opened his mouth to ask her what was up, but before he could her eyes brightened and she exclaimed, "Oh, Casey; I'm glad you're here."

He whirled—casually, he hoped—at the unexpected comment and saw Casey hovering under the frame of the room. She had obviously come to answer the door, and upon seeing Kendra and Derek attempted to step back into the shadows just a moment too late.

Caught, she stepped into the room with a pleasant smile and said, "Hello, Kendra." Glancing at him, she added in a slightly weaker tone, "Derek."

Kendra, as always, missed the rather lackluster tone to the greeting and, turning to face her fiancée as well, animatedly launched into her explanation.

"I knew you were picking up Marti, Derek, and I just had to tell you in person; I'm so glad I caught you before you left." Pausing for dramatic effect, she continued excitedly, "a designer wants to interview me!"

Derek broke into a grin and gave an enthusiastic, "awesome" as he reached forward to hug her; Kendra wrapped her arms around his neck and let her feet leave the ground as Derek lifted her to him. A few seconds later, she dropped back down with an excited bounce.

"That's great, Kendra," Casey added, though still looking slightly confused as to why she was there.

"So," Kendra continued without prelude, "I'll be going to New York next week and—"

"Wait, New York?" Derek interrupted as a jolt went through him. That was a rather large decision for her to be making without consulting him first, wasn't it? But Kendra waved him off.

"Oh, his company is in New York, but they have a branch in Toronto."

Moving to Toronto is still kind of a big deal, he thought, but Kendra had already moved on.

"So, I thought, it's kind of pointless to go to New York just for two days, right? And where has better shopping than New York City? So I talked to Jenny, and we're going to make a week out of it!"

"A week out of what?" Derek asked, vaguely confused.

"Looking for my wedding dress, of course," Kendra answered, her eyes rolling affectionately at Derek's cluelessness.

Derek rolled his eyes as well. "Of course," he said with a rueful smile.

"And since we're on such a tight timeframe, we can't really stop with the other preparations . . ." Derek withheld a groan, already knowing where this was headed, ". . . and since Derek is neither interested nor capable of doing this on his own . . ." Derek almost made an offended remark to that, no matter that it was true, but his brain was sending little warning spikes down his spine and he focused on figuring out what was wrong with the statement his fiancée had just made . . . "Jenny and I came up with the perfect solution!" Oh, he knew he wasn't going to like this . . . "Casey can help you!"

There was a pregnant pause in which Kendra looked expectant and Casey and Derek looked at loath to grant her request; then it all came at once.

"Oh, Kendra, I don't really think—"

"Nonsense, Casey, there isn't anyone else I would trust."

"But Kendra—"

"Oh Derek, stop being such a baby about this planning business. It's only for a week."

"Yes, but I have things to do, and—"

"Please, Casey? I know it's a lot to ask with your schedule, but you're the only one I know who would do things right."

There was a long pause, in which Casey's face twisted and Derek tried to come up with a way to refuse without being rude enough to get Kendra pissed.

"Okay," Casey finally agreed, sounding like she wanted anything but.

"Great!" Kendra enthused, sounding, if possible, more excited than she had a few moments before. "Well, I know you and Marti need to be going," Kendra said with a glance at the top of the stairs, popping up on her toes to give Derek a peck on the lips. Apparently Casey's assent was the only one that mattered. "But I'll see you tonight, alright, Derry?" Without waiting for a reply, the excited blonde spontaneously darted over to wrap Casey in a hug. "Thank you so much, Casey." Stepping back and moving toward the door, Kendra added, "I'll send you a list of things to do, Casey, if you don't mind. I know you like to be organized." And with one final, "thank you!" Kendra was out the door. Derek and Casey stood in rather stunned silence for a few seconds before awkward tension began to drift into the room. Before it had a chance to become pronounced, however, stifled laughter burst from the top of the stairs. Derek glanced up, still slightly boggled, to see his baby sister descending the stairs, an unusually gleeful smile painted on her face.

Well this is just great, Derek thought as he pulled out of the driveway, an irritatingly mischievous looking Marti n the passenger seat.

GhGhGhGhGh

Okay, I hope everyone enjoyed! Tell me what you think.