A/N: And here's the last chapter :) Thanks to all the people who've taken the time to read, review and favorite :) I hope you enjoyed it and apologies for uploading this a day late; last night was crazy.

Oh, I don't live in Canada so I'm not really sure if the schools match the courses or not. If I've made a (gross) mistake, please drop me a line so I can correct it.

Enjoy

Derek and Casey: 3/3

Derek Venturi flipped channel after channel as he was seated on his chair in front of the television. Why was nothing good on? Every other channel presented itself as some lame ass talk show that interviewed transvestites or something. Where were the sports? Where were the good cartoons?

It was another Tuesday afternoon at the MacDonald-Venturi household and, as usual, Derek beat everybody onto the television so Edwin and Lizzie retreated back to their rooms to do who knows what while Marti busied herself with another one of her projects in the kitchen.

A couple of weeks had passed since that fateful night in the mall's parking lot and unfortunately, things didn't get particularly better than before. He hadn't seen much of Casey since that night, so much so in fact, that had he not owned quite a well nourished ego, he might have concluded that she was avoiding him. He sincerely wished that she wasn't though, and not only for obvious reasons either; he really didn't want to hear another talk from his Dad about ending fights with girls.

But she's been coming home late and skipping dinner, saying that she was being kept busy by schoolwork. Sure, Derek knew that the life of a senior high school student was a hectic one, but he wasn't coming home late or skipping meals. The fact that she hadn't said anything to him apart from the mandatory 'hi's and 'goodbye's didn't help.

Yeah and she talked about going to the mall to see a movie again. Right.

With a sigh he turned the television off and headed into the kitchen for a glass of soda.

"Hey Smarti," he greeted, ruffling his youngest sister's hair from where she sat on the dining table. "What're you up to?"

"Hi Smerek," she replied, making him smile. She'd grown up a lot in the last two years and matured a lot too, but still she kept up the Smerek-Smarti gig up. "I'm making a card for Nora and Daddy's anniversary,"

Derek took a peek at what Marti was working on. She definitely got better at handling scissors and paint. "But Smarti, that's not until the end of the month,"

"I know," she said, not lifting her eyes as she continued to cut out a flower out of blue cardboard. "But it's only part of the gift,"

With an affectionate smile and another bout of ruffling his younger sister's hair, he headed out of the kitchen with his glass of soda on hand. He was about to walk back to his chair and give the television another chance to provide him with some kind entertainment, but something in the table by the stairs caught his eye.

Atop the polished brown surface lay a bunch of envelopes, which, from the looks of it, were mostly bills. What popped out of the bunch and attracted his attention, however, was one yellow manila envelope that had Casey's name on the recipient's label. And it was addressed to have come from Toronto University.

Derek looked at the yellow thing with narrowed eyes. Casey had been waiting for this specific envelope for weeks, her antics providing him the amusement he had grown used to over the past three years. Every single day, without failure, right when she walked in their front door she would make a beeline for the table by the stairs, racking each and every available piece of paper on there.

And even though she hadn't been doing a lot of talking to him the past week, he could easily figure out that the particular mail she had been waiting for hadn't been delivered yet because the past few days, he'd heard nothing but angry footsteps up the stairs followed by a rather harsh closure of her bedroom door. Well, at least her door wouldn't be taking any form of beating today, he thought.

His glass of soda left forgotten atop the table as he picked up the manila envelope and decided to leave it on her room instead. Derek knew that out of all the universities Casey had applied to, Toronto U was the one she actually wanted to get into. Technically she was a legacy there as her Dad went to Toronto University in college, but he didn't know if her getting in will be a sure thing as her Dad had passed away a long time ago. The acceptance and rejection letters had flooded their doorstep a month ago and he knew that just like him, Casey had been accepted to University of British Columbia. Unlike him, however, she had also received acceptance letters to York and McGill.

Derek padded up the stairs, a wistful look on his face. He wondered what this particular letter contained. Based on her grades and on the past acceptance letters she'd received, he's quite sure that she'd get in. But then Casey would go to Toronto to take up journalism and he'd go to British Columbia to study music. Idly he wondered just how life altering that scenario was.

He reached the surface of the door to her room and, purely out of habit, knocked even though he knew perfectly that she wasn't in yet. Knocking before entering had never been a practice in the Venturi household but after the MacDonalds had moved in, all three women had been adamant in making it a permanent addition to their very much lacking Venturi rulebook.

Cautiously he stepped inside her room, closing the door quietly behind him, his eyes unconsciously skimming his surroundings for anybody who might've been watching. It was a new feeling, stepping inside her room with no thought, intent or plan of wreaking havoc of any kind. He's been to her room tons of times before and just like now, most of those trips were purposely planned around her schedule so that the room would be empty.

Pink walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books greeted his eyesight, the sheer neatness of the room making his eyes grow wide. No dust bunny, wrapper of some sort, or a wayward piece of clothing can be found on the floor or on the rug, very much unlike the mini war zone that comprised the walking space inside his own room. The bed, again, unlike his, had been already made, the edges tucked in tightly under the mattress.

He took careful steps further into the middle of the room, with the intention of leaving the yellow manila envelope somewhere that can be easily seen. Derek's attention flew to the bed, but decided against leaving the letter on the covers, as Casey was one person who ignored the bed until bedtime actually comes rolling around. Besides, he didn't think it'd be a wise idea to linger around the piece of furniture where Casey slept every night. He walked further into the room until he reached her study table.

The study table, differing from the rest of the room in the manner of its disarray, was found against the wall across from the door. The contents of which were arranged in no particular order; her personal computer was buried underneath a pile of papers, one of which reminded him that he hasn't submitted his yet, and various colors of pens and paperclips and whatnots were scattered across the table's surface. Sure, the level of disarray in this particular table pales in comparison to the mess that Derek called his room, but the contents of the table looked so out of place in Casey's room that he itched to do something.

Against his better instincts, Derek Venturi began to tidy up. He gathered all pens and put them in the tin container that held her other pens and he threw all stray paperclips onto a porcelain dish shaped like a blowfish on one corner of the table. Rearranging her papers, he bundled them all together and set them aside, placing a marble paperweight on them and effectively made some room for her personal computer. The assorted books he found on the edge of the table, about to fall of, he piled up and walked it to the nearest shelf on one side of the room. Placing each book in each slot with utmost care, he lined them up according to their sizes.

After completing his task, he took a step backwards to look at his handiwork. Not bad, if he did say so himself, considering that he's almost had zero training in the cleaning bit.

"What're you doing?" a voice sharply asked from behind him. Derek almost gave himself a broken neck at the speed that his head whipped to the general direction of the door. What met his sight was his stepsister, Casey, one hand on the door knob to her room and another hand on the strap of her messenger bag.

Immediately he felt uncomfortable at being spotted inside her room when he really shouldn't even be anywhere near outside her door. Putting on a brave stance, he faced her completely and tried to sputter out an answer to her question. "I – I was just –"

Casey's eyes narrowed at him as she stepped inside the room. "Were you – were you just straightening up my stuff?"

The question made Derek very much uncomfortable for some reason. Although he knew that what he did was technically not wrong, still his stomach twisted at the sound of her closing the door. "I – It was just –" he stuttered. After mentally kicking himself, he took a deep breath and continued on calmly. "You're things looked out of place and I just had to do something. Who knew you were such a slob, Casey? And, I know, I know, I'm not even supposed to be here but – "

He never got to finish that badly patched up apology as Casey crossed the room in four whole strides, backing him up against the shelf in the process. Derek's eyes widened not only at the fact that her whole body was pressed up flush against his, but also at the fact that her lips were also against his. She had come up at him with such velocity that his had back had hit the shelf quite roughly, the panels of which were digging on the skin of his back quite unpleasantly.

Not to say that Derek was complaining. For months he had wondered just how exactly Casey's lips would feel, and here he was now, feeling them. A part of him didn't want to believe it; it was just too good to be true. But the different sensations bombarding his brain told him that it was truly happening. The pain on his back clashed deliciously with the softness of her form meshed completely up against his front. He couldn't really help himself when his eyes closed on their own accord and his hands snaked up her back, savoring the smoothness of her shirt and the curvature that molded itself on his hands.

He was a bit surprised, however, at how incredibly forward she was being though. Both of her hands framed his face, her lips taking control of their situation. Not quite believing his luck, but not wanting to ruin anything, Derek intended to get as much out of this kiss as he could possibly get.

Slowly he leaned into it, with the sole purpose of deepening the kiss when suddenly, her lips disappeared. When he had opened his eyes, she was already all the way across the room once more, very much looking out of breath. Her fingers were on her lips and she was pacing in a very small circle.

When he had gathered enough of his faculties and got them working properly again, he took a tentative step to where she was. "Casey," he started.

Her head snapped towards him and her eyes widened, as if she had just remembered that he was still in the room. She eyed him for a second and then quickly stepped towards the door, opening it violently. Without meeting his eyes, she gestured towards the hallway and said, "Get out,"

Okay what? Derek stared at her as if she's asked him to go dance the salsa or something.

"I said out!" she repeated, her voice raising a notch louder and her foot stomping on the carpet.

Dazed and confused, Derek slowly made for the door. His mind couldn't quite wrap itself to what had happened, to what was still happening. Casey had been all over him a minute before and now she was kicking him out?

"Fine," he finally snapped and proceeded with angry steps to his room. He passed her with an unreturned glare and stepped outside her room. Her hand was tightly wound on the door knob and her head was still bowed.

He was already in the middle of the hall, basically only a few feet shy of his own room, when anger fell upon him like a cold bucket of water. Sure, he could retreat back to his own room, his haven and sulk for the rest of the day but what would be the point? He could lock himself up inside his room for hours, seething and venting, but he knew that he'd never get anywhere that way.

Not without any answers.

Angrily he stopped walking and turned himself around, his heavy steps echoing in the empty hallway. This time, without knocking, he barged purposely inside her room, banging the door closed behind him.

"Is this a game to you?" he asked, his voice rising in anger.

She had been caught unaware, clearly not expecting him to return so soon, if ever at all. She stood up at once from where she had been seated on the chair in front of the very table that had probably started all of this. Opting for a defensive stance, she crossed her arms across her chest and said nothing. In fact, she didn't do anything or say anything and there was such a haughty look on her face that made Derek want to scream his lungs out at her.

"So that's it then, is it?" he half-shouted, uncaring if anybody other than themselves could hear him. His question was met by a blank stare and silence, infuriating him further. Derek seriously could not remember the last time he had felt this angry at anyone before. "That's your game, isn't it? You take something real and you use it against me? Real mature, Casey, real mature,"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice somewhat of a harsh whisper, her face genuinely looking puzzled.

"You know very well that I have feelings for you, Casey," he said, his voice dropping down to a deadly low, the fist of his hand connecting loudly against the surface of the wooden wall that separated their rooms. A sharp pain radiated inside his limb but it was still nowhere painful enough for him to acknowledge. "How could you, Casey? I thought we were passed this,"

She opened her mouth but no sound came out and he took her silence as a cue to continue.

"I get it, I get it that you don't have the same feelings for me but," he let out a frustrated sigh, his hand roughly going through his carefully styled hair. "Do you hate me that much? Jesus, I would've backed off had I known you were this cru–"

"I don't hate you," she said in a voice so low that he almost didn't hear her. At last, he thought, a response. "I don't hate you," she repeated, much louder and throwing her arms at her side.

She said that she doesn't hate him, her words making a bigger mess of things inside his head. So what did that mean? It totally disrupted the underlying logic of his outburst.

Clearing her throat, she continued in a firmer voice. "I know that it's not supposed to be like this, and then that thing at Christmas break happened…and I know I'd disappoint Mom and George so much,"

He called out her name and took a few steps towards her, stopping a couple of steps short of where she stood, giving her some space. Now she really wasn't making any sense. "What are you saying?"

Taking a deep breath, she finally looked at him and said, "There's this huge chance that I might really like you,"

He stared at her for a few seconds, her words slowly sinking in his anger addled brain. "A chance that you might like me?'

She rolled her eyes, an inappropriate gesture at a time like this, thought Derek and looked away again. "Okay, I think I do like you,"

"You think you like me?" he asked, incredulous. "That's not good enough, Casey,"

She looked at him, her eyes telling him that she felt particularly helpless at that moment. He was very nearly tempted to give in to those eyes, to take whatever it that came his way, but something in him was telling him to hold fast. He wanted Casey, yes, very much in fact, but he wanted all of her. And if she wasn't sure…

"What do you want from me, Derek?" she asked, her eyes pleading him to give her a break.

He took a couple of steps towards her, closing the space in between them for the second time that afternoon. Gently he brushed away the strands of hair that fell in front of her eyes, seeking her gaze out. He knew that she could say it; she was just being Casey again, making things more difficult.

She softly let out a sigh, her eyes showing sings of giving in. "Fine," she said. "I want you, okay?"

A grin slowly formed on his face. He didn't know it would feel this fulfilling just to hear those three little words. He's heard them before, surely, but it had never sounded that good before. "I'm sorry, what?"

Rolling her eyes, she continued, her eyes not meeting his. "I said," she started, looking unsure if she wanted to continue. "I want you,"

He stared at her for a few seconds, relishing the feeling of having Casey MacDonalds say that to him. His grin widened further when she finally looked back at him, her eyes speaking volumes of how unsure she was about the whole thing.

But her right hand suddenly flew upwards and her fist connected heavily with his left arm. "Okay, ow," he said, rubbing the spot where she punched him all of a sudden.

"That's what you get for thinking that I'd stoop so low that I'd trick you," she said, crossing her arms once more.

All feelings related to pain dissipated at what she'd said. His smile returned. "Yeah well if I remember correctly, you thought the same of me too,"

Giving a slight nod, Casey silently conceded at his point. "I guess we're more alike than I'd like to admit,"

An easy smile formed on his lips once again. "I guess we are," he whispered as he leaned in and did something he had wanted to do for ages.

Derek Venturi finally kissed Casey MacDonalds.

-fin-