1. I just couldn't resist. This was actually supposed to be a Lyra/Sally/Casey chapter and then turned into...this. Oh well, I'm sure no one really minds a little Dasey (or a lot of Dasey) love/angst. (Although it IS extending the story a lot, unfortunately!)

2. I think I've said it before, but YOU GUYS ROCK! Cheers to the best reviewers on the planet. Thank you SO much! You have no idea how much I use all that you say! (And I'm glad you like Lyra even though she's not really fleshed out).

DISCLAIMER: Between the last chapter and this one my manager has once again proved his supreme inefficiency.

(She doesn't have epiphanies. She's never yet stood in front of a fountain, miraculously come to life, and realized…anything. She's never rushed to catch a plane and been stopped in the middle by the love of her life in a tuxedo. She's never even had the chance to quote Eric Segal. All she's ever done is wear blue eye-shadow to family dinners and…

…Oh. Fuck.)

They're all sitting in the living room (and she really doesn't know when he became their "fourth" room-mate to replace Sayna who seems to have permanently shifted in with her boyfriend).

She comes in, banging the door behind her. "I'm a good person. No, really."

"What happened?" asks Sally.

"His mouth came with a built in amplifier. I had to sit and listen, in a coffee-house, while he told me in detail how he knows that the female body needs more stimulation that the male body and all the various ways he's found of pleasuring girls. He even gave me numbers of 'satisfied users' and told me I could contact them in case I wanted to confirm his claim."

"Really?" She doesn't even realize she's spoken till she feels his amused eyes burning holes in the side of her head.

Lyra looks at her in surprise. "Obviously not. Why'd I be here otherwise? I'd be testing his claim. All he talked about was how somebody called Ham wrote the plays of Shakespeare. I kid you not." Her laughter definitely has a manic tinge to it.

Sally takes her to the kitchen (possibly to administer the post-traumatic-occasion-brandy).

"Bacon," she corrects automatically, to no one in particular, because she's still Derek- Venturi's- Keener-S…ister inside.

"Casey, Casey, Casey," he's shaking his head, and the familiar tone (how dare he) makes her heart lodge somewhere in the vicinity of her intestines (because he's not allowed to do this anymore. Say her name like that. It's not fair). "You can't discuss sex but you know that somebody called Bacon wrote the plays of whatzipere? Why did they send you here from planet Dork-ette anyway?"

"I do too know about sex." She says indignantly (because he…he's failed first grade…and he isn't allowed to be better than her in anything).

He raises one eyebrow in that infuriating way of his and then turns back to the TV, a half smile playing across his lips, "Suuure…"

She had a momentary insane desire to quote her biology books, or paragraphs from her paper-covered romance novels (that had always made her face flush) to show that "she does too know about sex",but she can't. (Because he…her college bathroom wall…and it conjures up imagery of him that still makes her want to…. And anyway, he and Sally…).

So she does the next best thing she can think of.

He's out of his chair in an instant (he's shifted His Chair to their apartment. She doesn't overanalyze at all. Really), "Give. That. Back."

She looks straight at him, in familiar ground, "Make me."

Then they're fighting over the remote like they've done so many times before, and god it's… normal. The what-used-to-be's and should-still-be because this is healthy…sibling behavior. Fighting, and playing around and…safe. The kind that comes after "…Annoying brother." "Step-brother." "Same difference." Because same difference means that the step status is no longer applicable and…

(…And then he's pinned her down on the couch and she can't think anymore).

_ _

She should surrender the remote.

She's not sure it's worth having her heart stuck somewhere in middle of her throat; cutting off both her air supply and blood circulation (why is he looking at her like that) and what with the baby (fuck; their sibling) she doesn't want to worry her parents with hospital bills. Because she's always been the model daughter. (The one with the morals and values…she is…was).

(But then that would mean that he's won and she won't let him win. Ever).

He leans in closer and (they're close enough, Derek, get away), "I think you have something of mine."

"And I think you're stretching your ownership a little too much."

He looks down at her, "Not at all, Casey. What's yours is automatically mine. I'm your big brother, remember? Siblings share."

"So won't you let your little sister have the remote?" she's biting it out without even a clear reason why.

His face breaks into a smirk (except his eyes are dark, oh god, so dark) "You want the remote. You can have it."

She can't hide her surprise. (The catch…?)

"…Say please...sis."

She tries to turn her head away (doesn't work).

"It's quite easy", he takes his free hand and slides it across her bare leg. Burning his please into her skin. Till all her nerves are concentrated under his fingers, one letter at a time. P. L. E…

"Derek, don't."

"Don't…what?" (He doesn't stop. He's on the 'a' and it's…too much).

She can vaguely hear the ringing and it takes time for her to recognize that it isn't entirely in her head. (Because his eyes have flecks of almost black and he's looking at her and touching. It… isn't allowed).

But she holds on to the remote (because it's just a remote, not like it's…symbolic or anything) and picks up the phone with the other hand.

"Casey…?"

She takes a moment to place the voice, "Paul?"

His grip on her legs tightens and she involuntarily clutches the back of his shirt. His mouth sets in a grim line and he bends down further, his breath warm on the side of her neck (oh, god, no).

She realizes she's just missed whatever Paul had been saying… "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

Derek smirks (and she's one step away from punching him…but she can't because her hand is caught between their bodies and belatedly she realizes the remote has fallen).

"I was asking whether you're free tomorrow."

"No," he's whispering against her neck (and goddamn you, she feels it).

Stalemate. She looks right back at him (and she doesn't know why it feels so much like a challenge).

"Yes," she says defiantly, and regrets it immediately because this isn't what it's supposed to be. She's not supposed to be making dates just because it feels like somehow she's winning.

Paul's saying something but the phone's already been taken from her and switched-off.

"You're not going out with him."

(And it's almost like an echo) "Like my dating your friend is so threatening to you."

"You're busy tomorrow."

(Really? Busy doing what. Buying lingerie for his girlfriend?)

She's stopped struggling (because really; what's the use?) and as if noting the fact, he gets off her. She brushes herself off and tries to move away (somewhere - anywhere - else).

"I have a game tomorrow."

She looks back. He's sitting on his couch, completely unaffected, hand behind his head. "You're busy. With me." He continues watching.

(Except the TV's playing 'A Walk to Remember').

"I thought I was a bad luck charm."

"You are," he says, not missing a beat, "But you'll have to do, sis. Since the rest of our family isn't here."

"Well, then you'll just have to manage without us, bro. Because I have a date."

(Maybe she's just not used to the taste of victory. It can't possibly always taste this bitter.)

_ _

"Why are you always so difficult." He bites out.

(And he's in her room. The one which she just locked).

He holds out a pin in answer to her unspoken question.

"De-rek. I could have been doing…something."

She only realizes the innuendo when he grins and then she flushes (because the scholarship's a joke. She's obviously the village idiot).

He takes in the clothes lying around her. "What are you doing?"

"Choosing clothes. For my date. With Paul."

He scratches the back of his head in pretend confusion, "You mean that date you never really made?"

"What?" she's glaring at him (and this is normal).

"You just cut the phone on him, Case. You could've let him down gently. Guys don't take rejection very well. Especially guy like Paul."

She's (nearly) speechless with anger (because he's right, he'd cut the phone before the date was made).

"And anyway," he says and he's not looking at her now, "You would have had to break it for the game. I just saved you the trouble."

"You're crazy," she manages through clenched teeth, "if you think I'm going to come to your stupid hockey game after this. You didn't need me before, so don't try to pretend like I'm suddenly important."

(And she's said it again. Mentioned his absence. Ordinarily people lived and learned. She just lived).

"Didn't need you before," he repeats. "What the hell?"

"The other games." (Her brain doesn't seem to have gotten the "Shut Up" memo) "You…you didn't tell me when…they were. You played…fine without me…so…God, stop pretending that…that you want me there or something, okay, Derek. Just…stop."

He holds her arms, "You know why I never told you?"

(She doesn't care. Not. One. Bit.)

"Because you were already there. Did you think I wouldn't recognize you because you were wearing a stupid, floppy hat that hid your face? I know you better than you think, princess. I recognize the way you walk. The way you sit. I know you, Casey."

She stares at him, shocked. (Because… he'd known?)

He looks at her open cupboard grimly, "You probably kept the hat in the middle drawer in the beginning, so it wouldn't get crushed. And then you'd have seen it every day and felt like you'd given it too much importance. After all it was just a stupid hat you wore to your s…brothers' stupid games. Then you'd have kept it in the top of the cupboard. But that would make it seem like it was a secret or something. Something you were ashamed of. So you'd have kept it wrapped in paper and kept it in the bottom drawer."

(And he doesn't even open the lowest drawer to pick up the hat lying there. Because he doesn't need to).

"…Then you just didn't come that one day. And I got into my first fight. You know why, princess? Because there was no one I'd have to answer to. Nobody who'd have completely freaked out and threatened to call everyone from dad to the Anti-Terrorism Squad."

(She remembers. She'd had an assignment due the next week and she'd heard about him getting hurt from one of his fan club. He'd gotten hurt).

"So," she swallows locking eyes with him, "you want me to come because you can't afford fights if you want to keep the scholarship?"

(Because that's safe. And he'd known. And…whatever).

"Yeah."

"…Sis", he adds without any particular reason.

She looks down at her phone. She can just call Paul herself and…

…and once again she's blowing off someone else for him. She's getting used to the feeling.

It's only when he's gone does she remember she still has to go shopping…lingerie shopping…for the girl he loves. It's not important, but it does make something catch a little in her chest and makes her want to throw up.

(Maybe she should Google 'family'and 'brother' because she obviously doesn't know the meaning of either).

1. Yay! Blue-eyeshadow love. :) Also, years of living with Casey seems to have made Derek a resident expert on over-analyzing. Particularly Casey over-analyzing. Oh well, hope you enjoyed it. I just love that because of their frequent remote fights (who do they think they're kidding, again?) this could maybe happen.

2. Derek-as-a-tease is kind of hot. Or is it just me?