DISCLAIMER: You know how this will go. I don't own the show.
A/N: Inspired by shyesplease's Speak Italian to Me. She gave me the look through and the okay. I hope you agree.
It's Lizzie, of all people, who gives him the idea and even the reason to sign up for the class. "Why don't you take a foreign language course?" she offers, as she, Marti and Edwin sit with him and Casey at the dining room table at home, reading through the next semester's class offerings for Queen's.
Casey scoffs. "Derek already speaks a foreign tongue: his own."
Derek smirks, leaning across the table at her. "The girls like my foreign tongue, Case."
She wrinkles her nose at his suggestive tone and tilts back. "Gross, Derek."
They're on Christmas break and only have a few days left to register for the Spring semester classes, which predictably has Casey in a tizzy since she and Derek haven't sat down to agree on which classes they were going to take together. It was deal they settled on in their terms of agreement on how to deal with going to school, but not actually living together anymore. It works knowing they only have to see each other a few times a week in class rather than all the time, if they so choose. Since it's been made tremendously clear to Derek that failing equals being kicked off the hockey team and losing his scholarship and Casey refuses to carry him through his classes,he actually pays attention and does the amount of studying needed to keep his grades up. At least Casey offers her notes to him, since hers are always far more detailed than his. As evidenced by most of the table being covered in course catalogs and papers filled with Casey's precise handwriting for possible schedules and class routes for the both of them. Derek doesn't know what about this his younger siblings find so fascinating, but they insist there's nothing on tv and no one else apparently has anything better to do than add their two cents.
Lizzie shrugs and looks over his prospective time tables, easily ignoring the taunting as one who's dealt with it for so long. She continues, "Either way, you still need three more credits. Foreign language seems like it would be perfect for someone like you."
Casey actually snorts at this. "Puh-leeze," she says, crossing her arms.
"Someone like Smerek?" Marti repeats in confusion, cocking her head to the side.
Edwin wrinkles his forehead in thought. "Didn't...Derek almost fail Spanish?" he asks hesitantly in a similar tone to Marti.
"Yes," Casey immediately answers.
Derek ignores the chatter as he studies his blonde step-sister for a beat. "Explain."
Lizzie shrugs carelessly but offers him a knowing smile. "You like secrets." Unsaid is the better to keep a secret in another language.
Once that box of worms is opened, Derek really gives some thought on all the practical applications he could use it. His films for one, learning dirty words in another language was always fun, or using it to seduce any number of girls.. Messing with Casey (which is still a priority in his life, despite the fact that don't see each other that often).
Fuck it, he's sold.
He picks Italian. He's a Venturi; it makes sense. The course is surprisingly male dominated. Derek wonders if most of the guys share similar reasons for taking the class. The Instructor is a relatively attractive middle-aged woman who emphasizes the romance about the Italian language and really breathes passion into her teaching. Derek figures most of the guys leave the class half hard.
They go through lessons at a relatively quick pace and it kinda catches him off guard that he's really getting into the course. He actually likes the language, doesn't mind the reading and translation and figures the best way to celebrate his new found enjoyment is share with Casey...by harassing her with Italian, of course. He initially thinks of leaving curse words in Italian all over her stuff, but discards the idea quickly. That's not only boring and completely overdone, but it's vulgar in a way that, crass as he is, not even Derek stoops to cussing Casey out for no reason. It does give him an idea, though...
Casey's college evening routine goes like this: dinner, dance team practice or student government meetings, shower, pj's and 2-3 hours of studying before bed. She's used to the late nights, but she still tries to keep enough time in her schedule for actual sleep. Rest is important because she still gets up at 5:30 to get ready for the day, and it really helps being able to be out of her day clothes, face washed and body cleaned, to help wind down in her dorm, even as she works at her desk. Which is good, because today's been long and it didn't help that she's had to harp on Derek about paying attention in their shared Psychology course...again. Honestly, she doesn't even know why he agreed to the class if he wasn't going to make an effort. She's warned him repeatedly that she isn't carrying him, and even though he originally expressed interest in "learning how to get into the head of other people to psych them out" (his words, not hers), he's spent the last two classes doing nothing but doodling and flipping through the textbook they she's grudgingly allowed him to share with her. Except, he's flipped through everything other than the actual section they're supposed to be on, which is annoying to say the least.
Sighing, Casey settles herself at her desk and pulls out said book to skim over her notes and make sure she's got everything covered before reading a section ahead so she can move on to her paper for her Women's Lit course. It's supposed to be Derek's turn to take the book home if he wanted to study, but since he's obviously not taking the class seriously, Casey refuses to waste the time she could be studying. Opening it to the bookmarked section, her eyes widen at a post-it left on the page.
Non mi rompere i maroni
She knows instantly it's Derek's handwriting. She doesn't know what it means, though, since she's not taking the Italian course with him, nor does she know why he left that in the book. Mentally shrugging, she sets it aside and focuses on her notes...for about ten minutes...until unbidden, she eyes the paper note again.
Why did Derek leave that there?
Casey's eyes narrow in thought before she turns to her laptop to pull up Google to translate. She blinks at the result. I do not break the chestnuts.
"What?" she huffs, confused. That can't be right. Derek must have the translation wrong. She thinks back to his appalling attempts in Spanish and decides that has to be it. Still, it's a weird note...and why did he leave it there? She tries to shake it out of her head and focus back on studying but the curious part of her brain keeps turning the tiny mystery over in the back of her mind until it finally becomes a distraction. She only lasts 45 minutes before she breaks down and calls Derek. Normally, she'd text, but she's used to being ignored in that fashion, and if she doesn't get an answer soon, she's going to have a whole evening of studying wasted just because Derek left some silly note laying in their book.
The phone rings three times before it finally connects. "What, Space?" Derek greets. (She hates Space, Space-Case, Spacey and all forms of its use, but it's definitely better than Klutzilla, so she lets it go for the most part.) The background noise is evident and a familiar clack sound seems to indicate that Derek is in the Student Centre, somewhere near the billiard tables. He likes to party, but given that he's in charge of not losing his scholarship or his place on the team, he's done a lot of scaling back in his night-life activities. Most days he can be found letting off steam after practice at the SC, mingling, before heading for his own dorm. She knows he hates when she cuts into his downtime, so she gets to the point.
"Is the post-it note in our Psychology book supposed to be there?"
"Non mi rompere i maroni?" Derek spouts off, sound surprisingly smooth with the foreign words even Casey can admit she can't wrap her tongue around.
"I do not break the chestnuts?" Casey dubiously translates.
To her surprise, Derek barks out a laugh. "Is that what you think it says?"
"That's what Google says!" she defends, bristling at his superior tone.
"Yeah? Well Google's wrong," he tells her in that ridiculous Derek tone of his. They don't do this as much any more, since they aren't always around to annoy each other, but that tone, that timbre, calls to mind instantly the sight of Derek leaning back, all smug, tongue wrapped around his teeth and eyes rolling, like he's just won the argument.
She can't help the instinctual need to snap back. "Please, Der! Like you could ever be smarter than-"
"Case," he interrupts, sounding still far more amused and self-assured than he really should be. "Which one of us is running words through a search engine, and which one of us is actually taking the language?"
She hates it, but she recognizes it: the point where Derek is actually proving that he's right. It's in that sly, barely there note in his voice, where he completely knows he's got the upper hand, not through anything else but being completely in control through honest circumstances. It doesn't happen too often, but enough for Casey to be fool not to realize it. Frustrated, she hangs up.
Across campus, Derek listens to her disconnect with a grin...
It takes Casey until the next day to figure out what Derek actually wrote on that stupid paper. Don't break my chestnuts. Which still doesn't make any sense, so she does what she does best and confronts Derek again, catching him before her last class.
"Don't break my chestnuts?" she begins hesitantly.
He crosses his arms looking entertained and impressed, like he's surprised that she's figured it out. Casey scowls.
"But what does that even mean?" she demands.
"Means 'get off my nuts,' Case. Stop nagging me." He turns away with that, leaving her standing there.
"That's so gross, Derek!" she calls after him.
Casey needs to borrow the Prince to pickup a prescription on the other side of town, the day after. It's a quick errand and Derek isn't currently using the car, so he hands her the keys after their shared Psych course.
He waits until she's far enough away to shout at her, "Si chiama Pietro e torna indietro!"
Casey pauses and whirls back around. "What?!" she yells back. She heard him just fine, she just doesn't understand it.
Derek doesn't repeat himself, merely tossing a "Ciao!" over his shoulder as he heads another way.
A week later and it's getting annoying now. In the past seven days Casey has heard the most absurd idioms from Derek, none of which make much sense; some of which are very crass.
"I can't believe you told him to take the class, Liz," she complains to her sister on the phone during her weekly call home.
"Hey, I only suggested it. Derek's the one who made the choice," the youngest McDonald defends.
Casey huffs out a breath. "Yeah, well, right now Derek's made the choice to bother me in Italian."
"Maybe you should take the class too. That way you'll know what he saying," her sister advises.
"No way!" she insists. "Half the stuff he's told me is really disgusting and juvenile. I don't think I want to really understand what the rest of it means."
The next Gaels game is a home game and although she still doesn't get it or care for the violence, Casey goes to watch for lack of anything better to do then. Derek's finally gotten past his superstition stage, but not his nervous stomach. Casey calmly waits outside the changing room with a can of ginger ale and some saltines. They found out during freshman year, Derek could actually hold a minor amount of food down after he threw up, if there was something to settle his stomach quickly. Casey can't believe George never discovered this before, because according to Derek, he feels better about playing after the little remedy.
He's paler a little shaky when he comes out, but that's nothing new. They don't speak until he's guzzled most of the can, holding the rest of it up to his already perspiring forehead in an effort to cool off. "Thanks," he rasps, reaching for the saltines and cramming a few in his mouth before finishing the rest of his drink.
"You'll be fine," Casey assures him, as she catches his gaze leading towards the ice.
"Il culo alla balena, right?" he chuffs, looking to her for confirmation.
"Sure," she agrees quickly. Her suspicion rises at the dark delight on his face. "Wait! What did I just agree to?"
"You wished me luck," Derek insists. His colour is already looking better as he clasps a hand to his chest in a mocking fashion. "Thoughtful of you, Space. Really sweet."
She levels him with a flat glare. Knowing him, that's not exactly the direct translation. "What does that phrase actually mean?"
He grins. "In the whale's ass."
"What?! Der-ek! That is so disgusting! How is that supposed to mean 'good luck'?"
Casey doesn't get any further than that, because the rest of the team starts coming out of the changing room. "Come on, Venturi, quit flirting with McDonald!" the captain barks, ignoring the two spluttering. "We got a game to win!"
Derek presses his empty can into Casey's hand to take the helmet and stick being shoved at him. "Gotta go, Space!"
Casey rolls her eyes.
It's a win for the home team and she's not surprised to see Derek taking the time afterwards to engage with a few puck bunnies. He's murmuring Italian to a few, who giggle and write their numbers on his arm.
She's not impressed and it shows on her face when he disengages himself from his harem. She walks him back to the changing room, because as soon as he's showered, Casey's taking him for pizza on George's dime (also part of their terms of agreement).
Derek correctly interprets her expression and offers a salacious grin while showing her his arm full of digits. "I told ya, Space: girls love my foreign tongue," he says with a chuckle. At her eye roll, he leans in closer, one hand on the locker room door. "You could say I'm a cunning linguist..."
The words register, making Casey turn bright red. "Der-ek! Eww!" She shoves his sweaty body towards the door. "Go wash your mouth out, too!"
Derek's only response as he pushes through the door is laughter.
Like it? Loathe it? Let me know! I depend on your feedback to know how I'm doing, and if I'm going too far in OOC-land. I also am open to suggestions on other scenarios. All it takes is a review from you!