"I still think you should move everything valuable into storage for the weekend!" Casey shouted above the noise of Derek's electric razor – his dual (wet and dry) shaving method one of the few areas where she was certain he was more OCD than her. Derek stuck his head round the bathroom door to look at her sitting on his bed, clipboard on lap.

"It'll be fine. I'm insured."

"But these are hockey players we are talking about and insurance won't replace sentimental items."

He chuckled, wiping his face. "Case. Do I look like the sentimental type to you?"
She regarded him carefully. "Alright. Let me put it another way. What happens if one of them sets light to your limited edition porn collection."

"My what?" He frowned. "Oh you mean the Sports Illustrateds?"

"Swimsuit editions. Honestly, I've seen more clothing in Playboy."

Derek grinned. "Oh…read Playboy a lot do you?"

"Yes. On the occasions where you kept me waiting during your physio appointments. Doc had little in the way of decorating magazines in his waiting room."

"Look. If it makes you happy, move all my photos into my bedroom and lock the door, but otherwise, what will be will be. I wanted a party at my house. If I wanted a party at an empty warehouse, I'd have rented an empty warehouse."
"Now. The guest list." Casey went on, ignoring his comment. "I need a list of everyone you've invited."

"Good luck with that, I have no idea." He said, tossing the wet towel towards the laundry basket in the corner of the bedroom.

"How am I supposed to sort out catering if I don't know who you've invited?"
"Because you love a challenge."

"Roughly, D?" She said exasperated at his nonchalance.

"A couple of hundred or so."

"What?"

He laughed. "I'm kidding. I've invited about a hundred people. Tim has a list and they were all given proper invitations."
"Wow! I didn't think you were organised enough." Her pen was making notes on the board as she spoke.

"Had to be. Simon threatened me with a judo lesson if I ever jeopardised the security again after that incident with the topless fan."

"Urgh! Don't remind me. I still haven't recovered from the shock of seeing her standing there in the pantry." Casey shivered. "Honestly, how she could call herself a fan and not know that you were away on tour!"

"That'll teach you to break into my home and take my kitchen hostage. She could have hurt you." He leant up against the door frame and the last part was softer than the first. "I have to say, I'm surprised you're relinquishing control of your territory to the catering firm."
Casey looked concerned. "Don't be ridiculous Derek. It's your kitchen. It isn't my territory."

"Well you may not live here, but no one else typed up contents lists for each cupboard and stuck it on the inside of the door. Sometimes boiling an egg is like a high school cookery class all over again. I half expected you to paint silhouettes on the shelves so that I put everything back in the right place."

He saw a light go on in her eyes and hoped he hadn't just put ideas in her head. Then she frowned.

"What are you doing boiling eggs, Derek? The freezer is full of food." That she had cooked and placed there.

"I fancy an egg…I'll eat an egg. Stop nagging. Now are you planning on leaving the room or do you want a show? I need to get dressed."

Casey stood up. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving." She said. "I'll be in the kitchen."
"Fine. I'll be in the Den."

His territory or hers? Casey decided she might win more of the war if she gave in on this battle.

Casey sighed. "Okay. I'll be in the Den." She corrected.

Derek smiled as he watched her leave the room. It might not be Casey's house, but she spent a lot of time there and the kitchen was most definitely her place. Of course, the place she loved most in the house was the master bedroom and its view of the garden, but since she could hardly evict him from his own bedroom, she had instead taken over the hub of the house: the kitchen.

.

There had been a short period of time, measured in months, not years when Casey had occasionally woken up in the Master bedroom. A time not that long ago (was it really just three weeks?) where staying overnight at Derek's house had meant spending the night in Derek's bed.

But since The Kiss three weeks ago, he hadn't asked her to stay, and she hadn't expressed a desire to.

The morning after he first moved into this house, when she woke up in his arms, his hands resting against her skin and his lips on her neck, she freaked out.

But when they had discussed what happened he made light of the event. Suddenly it was insignificant – and there seemed no reason why it shouldn't happen again. They were friends of sorts, and it was simply affection.

Over the subsequent months, Casey had got used to waking up like that. It wasn't intentional, it just sort of happened and whilst both of them were aware it was rather odd for two step-siblings to like to spoon, neither of them had called a halt to it.

Until The Kiss.

It wasn't much of a kiss. Derek could say that the kiss was Casey stepping over the line, but he was already leaning so far over that ethereal edge that the chasm between them was wafer thin, and its depths took them straight to hell.

Her literary dinner, his proud, supportive gesture, Casey's act of…affection…love?

There was no going back - she had kissed him on the mouth.

It was just a peck, but in the seconds after she pulled away he was breathless and speechless. Casey had opened her mouth automatically to say "thank you" for his earlier comment, but she too couldn't speak. He stared at her, she blushed a deep crimson – and whispered "Sorry, that didn't happen."

Except it did happen, and whilst they hadn't discussed it, not even now three weeks later, the unfamiliar sensation of their lips pressed together was never far from either of their minds.

After that, there were no more sleepovers, no accidental viewings of one or other's underwear (on their person or even in the laundry pile) and whilst Casey was still a frequent visitor to his home, Derek knew there was an increased distance between them. They had stepped back from the chasm.

Part of him was relieved because he really didn't need this shit on top of his already hectic life style and the press' constant demand for photos and news stories. But another part, and if he was being honest, a very large part, regretted the increased distance. Casey was his best friend despite what he said to the contrary and, yes, over the years he had acknowledged, to himself at least, the attraction he felt.

She was beautiful and they probably would have dated had circumstances been different. But they shared a family and how could that fail to force them down the denial route? By rights, he supposed they should have ignored each other, but for him, ignoring Casey McDonald had never been an option. And by the willingness of his partner in crime to join in the conflict, ignoring him had never been an option for Casey either. They might have grown up, but apparently, they had grown together, which was inconvenient.

Very inconvenient. Because since her kiss, he found himself wondering what it would be like to date Casey. He tried picturing her across the table from him at expensive restaurants, sitting with her under the moonlight of a tropical beach, and waking up beside her, their limbs entangled. Shockingly, the images came easily to him, because the moments he would expect to share with a girlfriend, he had already shared a million times over with Casey.

Which meant what exactly?

Casey entered the Den with her clipboard and a degree of trepidation. She didn't have a problem with the room as such. In fact, she loved how warm it was, how relaxing and welcoming. She loved that it was full of the pictures of their family, including ones of Derek in un-posed portraits playing with Robbie and Marti, looking almost paternal. But it was a raw room, full of emotion, full of Derek…and right now she wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

She was sensitive to emotions. She always understood when someone liked her or hated her, although she might not know why. And this room buzzed with the essence that was Derek. It was very sensual, dark in colour and warm in furnishings, like burying yourself in Derek. For Casey, burying herself in Derek would be easy, like watching a rabbit staring into the headlights of a car – you know it's going to be messy but you can't turn away.

When Derek made it downstairs, Casey was sitting in her usual spot on the large twin-seated couch that the brochure she had purchased it from referred to as a "love seat". Since this was where both she and Derek normally sat of an evening whilst they watched TV, she definitely didn't use that exact term.

She immediately became business-like.

"So. Let's talk canapés." She announced.

"Let's not." He groaned.

"Derek, we need to finalise this with the caterer."
"Casey. I wanted a fun party, not a lesson in over-planning by Casey McDonald."

Her face fell and he knew he had over-stepped the mark.

"I didn't mean that…well not exactly…I…"

"It's alright Derek. I get the message." She said quietly, unfolding her legs and scooping up her papers.

Derek caught her hand. "No. You don't." He said. "It's just that the only time I see you at the moment is with that stupid pink clipboard in your hands and a list of jobs for me to do. I thought the whole reason we were paying the caterers for the party was so that you didn't have so much work."

Casey said nothing.

"Princess. It's almost like you're talking this up so that we don't have to talk about other things. It's like you can't be in the same room as me unless you have all the conversation planned out. Jesus Casey! One lousy peck on the lips and we regress ten years!"

Casey frowned. "It wasn't lousy." She said quietly. Derek laughed. She raised fiery eyes to his and continued. "It wasn't lousy." She repeated, and he spotted the twinkle in her eye. "Lame but not lousy."

"Lame?" Derek was stunned. "Lame?" He huffed. "Nothing I do is lame."

Casey groaned. "Big head."

"Nah just honest."

"Der-ek!" She mock batted him with the clipboard and he laughed so much he fell off the seat beside her onto the floor, pulling her down with him. Casey giggled as she loomed over him.

"It was a peck on the lips, Casey. Not a full-blown assault on my tonsils." Derek linked his fingers with hers.

"I just forgot myself." She explained.

"You forgot it was me, or you forgot that you aren't supposed to find me attractive."

"I kissed you Derek. I didn't start worshipping at your temple."

He smirked. "Yeah. Why not?"

"Idiot."

"Can we shelve the vol-au-vents?" he asked looking up at her.

"How about I ask the caterer to bring over some free samples tomorrow for a taste-testing?"

"Ooo. Subversion. That's underhand. Very Venturi. I like it. Just tell them to bring three of everything."

"See…not all my ideas are bad." Casey said, looking down at him.

"Oooh! D, you should taste these mini-pizzas, they are unbelievable!" One of Derek's team mates enthused but Derek declined. The truth was, he had eaten so many of the damn things during Casey's "tasting" session that he couldn't stomach even looking at them now that the real party was in full swing. He nodded, swigged his beer directly from the bottle and went in search of the DJ who was supposed to be providing music for tonight. So far he had heard five Abba-derivative tracks, and a Barbie Girl. It was time for some thing…pleasantly audible.

He reached the mixing desk that Casey had set up in the back garden under a marquee and glanced at the throng of people on the dance floor. He was looking for the squirt he was paying a fortune to for the privilege of telling his grandchildren he once spun discs at Derek Venturi's home.

When he reached the guy though, he found Casey giving him a piece of her mind.

"Look buster, I like Meryl Streep as much as the next woman, but frankly, most of the people on the premises have parents who were only just in high school when Abba went their separate ways, so let's drop the seventies bent and start concentrating on eighties, nineties and noughties, shall we?"
The DJ nodded and left and Casey made her way over. Derek smirked at her.

"Some days watching you is like watching myself in the mirror." He said.

"I can't decide if that was an insult or a compliment." She grinned. "Aren't you eating?"
He shook his head. "If I never see another mini pizza again, I'll be happy."

"You did eat rather a lot." Casey confirmed dodging to one side as three drunken hockey players cannoned towards them. Derek took her arm.

"Come on. Let's get out of the way of these animals."

For the sake of the flowers, they had locked the walled garden and restricted the party-goers to the rest of the landscaped surrounds. But Casey had kept hold of the key and they made their way to the little oasis, grabbing two beers and a bowl of chips on the way. She let them into the scented enclosure and then locked the door behind them.

"Alone at last!" Derek announced, the noise of the party suddenly diminished in the walled space. Casey gave him a funny look and he realised how the phrase had sounded and frankly, right now he realised he didn't care.

"Come on, Case. Admit it, they're a bunch of animals and you'd rather be in here alone with me than out there looking for another heartbreak."
"You have a very low opinion of my romantic life."
He chuckled and moved across to the grassy area they usually sat on. "No. I have a low opinion of the morons you date. And as much as I hate to admit it, there are a few on my team who would definitely tick most of your boxes."

Casey sat down beside him. "Actually, I'm not looking for a date right now."
"Yeah right…you're always looking for Mr Right."

"No seriously. I'm happy as I am." Casey took the proffered beer from him and took a sip.

"Trailing round after me?" Derek leaned back on his elbows and regarded her.

"You trail around after me too." Casey used her beer bottle to point at him.

"Only in the off-season." He grinned, drinking from his own drink.

"What am I, Derek?" Casey started to peel the label from her bottle.

He chuckled. "Don't make me answer that."

Casey glanced up. "I meant what am I to you?" she pushed, nervously. She wondered if she was doing the right thing.

"You're Casey." He answered simply, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"Meaning?"
"Meaning I don't have a definition for you, you are just you. Casey. Pure and simple." He smiled at the final phrase.

"Is that good or bad?" She asked, pulling herself onto her knees and therefore closer to him.

"Well look at it this way. There maybe girlfriends and wives galore, but there will only ever be one Casey." Derek unwittingly sat up.

Casey was quiet. "Is that a promise?" She asked softly.

"Honestly, Case. You're unique."

She looked annoyed but he put a hand on her arm. "That was a compliment, honey." And his hand slipped down her wrist to her own, the fingers curling round to lace themselves with Casey's fingers. His eyes, warm and dark never left hers.

There was no warning, no sigh or breath of air, no whispered comment, and neither of them made the first move. They were just apart one minute and deliciously entangled the next. Derek's lips met Casey's but neither of them could tell you who made the first move, or why – if it wasn't them – why they had responded.

This wasn't a peck. This was a full-bloodied assault on each other, a rush of emotion and lust which hit as soon as the floodgates opened.

They moved their lips together for a long while, exploring and devouring each other: Sometimes soft and gentle, sometimes raw and needy. Heated like two teenagers, warm and tender like too aged lovers.

Lips against lips, body against body and hands in each other's hair, eventually they fell gently to the ground and Derek rolled lightly on top of her.

Casey groaned into his mouth and the sensations his body caused against hers intensified. They were still fully clothed but there was no doubt where this was going.

"I need you." He murmured against her neck.

"I want you." She confirmed against his shoulder.