Notes: Hey, all! I'm back with a little snippit from a series I'll be working on soon. I don't expect all you Derek/Sam shippers will be too happy with me for this, but that's okay. It's just an idea, and I'll leave it at that for Right Where It Belongs. I'll be getting to all those requests soon, so yay! Also, thank you to all who reviewed!
He can taste the copper on his tongue, the inside of his cheek split and bleeding even still. Casey can serve up quite a fist when she's angry, because his face now aches something fierce, and no matter how hard he presses the pad of his thumb into the corner of his eye, the twitch won't fade.
But the angry abrasion blossoming on his cheek does nothing to conceal the dark lovebites where jaw meets neck, or the kiss-bruised mouth, the hair just long enough to curl fingers into and tug on.
"What are you thinking, Derek? Sam's my ex-boyfriend, your best friend! And you're fucking him! Do you have any idea how wrong that is?" Casey screams, words backed by the hate and hurt in her eyes, damp and gleaming by the kitchen lights.
"Casey… Casey…" He feels a little like dying, seeing her grip her forehead, brace herself against the fridge because standing without support is no longer an option. Takes an involuntary step forward, to console, to do something, but the island separates them, and the flinch his movement receives speaks louder than words.
"Derek," voice a whisper, "Derek, I don't even know you are anymore."
Takes a breath, laps up the blood in his mouth, swallows his pride, and looks anywhere but into her eyes. "I love him, Casey. Honest to God love him."
"No, Derek, you don't love him," she deadpans. "You think you do, but you don't. You can't fucking love anyone, you just break them in, make them yours, and when they're too old to keep up, you pack them off to the fucking glue factory."
A deathly sob escapes him, and he clamps a hand over his mouth, tears rolling down the grooves of his fingers.
"Sam deserves more, Derek. Sam deserves what you can't give him, what I couldn't give him. Maybe we deserve each other, Derek, but you're not doing this to my friend. I'm not going to let you do this to him."
Now it's her who can't meet his eyes, only wipes a hand over her face to brush away the anger and the tears. Pulls her hair back into a clip and pushes her shoulders back. Casey MacDonald, standing up straight, a tired actor in a nineteen-year-old body. Looking up at the ceiling.
"A couple months ago, three months ago, you were on that trip with George and the kids and Mom was God knows where. I was lonely, so I called Sam up and he came over. We hung out, screwed around. One thing led to another. It wasn't anything serious, and things were okay afterwards."
An ache deep in his chest, betrayal in a subtle form, something he can't quite name. "Why are you telling me this?"
Her mouth twists in a frown, a cruel disposition on a pretty face. "Because it's Sam's baby."
Okay, so I'm not proud about the way this panned out, but don't think it's not gonna stop me from writing a series on the main idea. Consider it a sketchy outline.