Part 2

Four months later, Casey was getting fed up.

She was getting tired of long fights with short reprieves where things seemed normal, and worse, she couldn't figure out why they were fighting so much to begin with.

Nora let out an audible sigh when she saw Casey walk through the door in her cheer uniform, fuming, hair mussed and cheeks red. Predictably, she uttered one name in an almost guttural roar: "DEREK!"

"Hey, Space Case. Nice outfit." Derek remarked, smirking.

He meant that, she could tell, but she didn't care. "Not only did you forget to pick me up from practice, you took my bag home so I'd have to walk in the rain!"

"At least I took your bag home. Who says I forgot, sister dearest?"

Okay, now he was mad, he only brought out the "s" word when he wanted to piss her off.

"It had my cell phone in it, which you knew," Casey muttered, "But thank you for confirming that you are, in fact, the world's most immature teenager, and reminding me, yet again, of the misfortune I have as your sister."

He shot her a glare.

When Nora didn't offer an interjection, and neither did George (both of whom were in the kitchen, massaging rapidly growing headaches), Casey glared at the boy idly propped up on the couch.

"Oh, Casey, Casey, Casey. I think it's you. Are you incapable of taking a joke or being human in the slightest? I guess it would explain that lack of a real love life, a reputation, and actual friends besides the stalker next door…" Derek pretended to disappear into heavy musing.

"Harmless fun! Derek, people get pneumonia from rain, and they die!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "No, they don't, that's a myth."

"Whatever, Derek. It wasn't fair and you know it." She responded quieter this time, so the two adults in the kitchen couldn't hear her.

For a moment, Derek looked ashamed. "I'm just trying to not…treat you different."

The girl glared at him, unaffected by the softening of his demeanor. "No you weren't. You said that on purpose," she snapped, surrendering the battlefield for the day and running up the stairs.

Derek heard her trip over a step. "Nice move, Klutzilla!" His tone was sharp and bitter.

"Stupid Derek. Stupid rain. Stupid cheerleading." Casey ranted to herself as she peeled her varsity uniform off.

Pulling on warmer clothes, she continued to rant under her breath. "Stupid boyfriends. Aren't they supposed to be nice and caring and devote themselves to you? No, that's too much to ask of macho, manwhore Derek!"

Flopping onto her bed, she sighed to herself. "Why the hell am I dating him again?"

"A masochistic streak a mile wide? Incapable of ignoring my devilish charm?" Derek offered from her bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. Ability to accept my endless stupidity and forgive me?

Casey scoffed. "Masochistic? Call the news, Derek figured out what a dictionary was!"

"Oh, that stings, princess." The boy muttered dryly, slipping past the doorway, shutting it behind him, "Well, Case, think about it. In your love life, all you dated were assholes who never made it past the six month mark."

I need to think more before I say things, the boy thought, cringing inwardly at the words that left his mouth.

"Assholes like the one I'm dating now?" Casey asked hotly, "Good point."

Derek's stomach roiled at the implication she was making, and he hated that feeling. He'd been having it too much lately, and it was always Casey that did it to him. Bitterly, he snapped back, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be one if it wasn't this way, ever think of that, dear?"

A scoff cut through the air. "Really? You're going to justify this by blaming me?"

"Not only do I have to pretend I don't care when everyone else is around, I have to pretend like some guy hitting on you at your locker is peachy-fucking-keen. I saw you, Case! So yeah, maybe I thought you'd just get a ride with the loser giving you every cheesy line in the book so he could say he finally conquered the uptight Casey McDonald."

Casey's eyes widened briefly, as though she hadn't been aware of the fact that she was merely a conquest to some guys, and was standing up now, dangerously close to stabbing a pen in one of his eyes.

"You know me better than that," she hissed.

Instead of using the pen, Casey shoved him back with all her might, tears already glittering in her eyes. The door slammed in his face, and Derek sighed.

So much for apologies.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dinner followed with more drama, thanks to the contribution of Derek's siblings.

Marti threw a temper tantrum about there being no macaroni and cheese, Edwin spilled an entire platter of salad dressings, and Lizzie complained about the waste of said dressings as she picked at her salad.

"I'll make it tomorrow, Marti." George promised.

Marti smiled, fully over the exemption of cheesy pasta, and spoke about her day.

Derek only caught part of the story, too busy trying to catch Casey's stare with his own. She was stubbornly choosing to pretend her plate was the most fascinating thing on the planet.

"…And then Nathan said I couldn't eat a rock, and I said I would, and then he said he'd give me a whole quarter if I would, but the recess teacher caught me and made me sit down on the bench the whole time!"

George spoke of a difficult client he'd had, and still had the raging headache he'd had before. Nora told him to take some ibuprofen, and glanced at her eldest stepson.

"You two are quiet," she said, "Would it be foolish of me to hope you've worked out your differences?"

Casey looked at her mother, pasting on a dry smile, purposefully ignoring the boy gazing at her. "Sorry, mom. Maybe if he ever stops acting like a five-year-old."

"Or if she wasn't such a stuck-up princess," supplied Derek, anger seeping into his expression.

"Stop it, you two, if only to give an old man some peace," interjected George quickly, "or I'll take away the TV for the rest of the week," holding no hopes for a future alliance between the eldest stepsiblings.

His warning didn't seem to resonate very strongly. Edwin let out a loud burp and the boys erupted into hysterical laughter.

George sighed. Five kids was sometimes simply outside of his tolerance range.

"Whoever's turn it is to do the dishes—do them, I'm going to go lay down." He muttered, leaving the table in search of pain relievers and silence.

As it turned out, it was Casey's turn to wash the dishes, and Derek's turn to dry. Not one sibling stuck around to listen to their pleas to trade chores, and Nora snapped at them for their immature behavior, only cutting her lecture off short to check on her husband.

Derek was suddenly aware of the fact that he was alone with an angry Casey again. In a place with many sharp objects, no less.

Rather than saying anything, Casey began rinsing the dishes she had brought into the kitchen. He was not dense enough to help bring the last few in, but she appeared not to be aware of his presence at all.

Really, I'm the five year old in this situation? Thought Derek irritably. He grabbed a clean towel to start drying the clean dishes.

They stood side-by-side in silence, the only sound permeating the air around them being the clanking of the dishes.

Derek watched her for a few minutes, deciding to try to make amends. "I like your hair down. It looks nice."

Casey ignored him. Derek was not easily discouraged.

He set the last plate down and stood against her back, massaging her shoulder blades. Even in her anger, Casey's head drooped slightly as he eased the tension.

"So, how was your day?" Derek asked, his voice actually void of sarcasm.

She knew he was trying to make things okay, but the question left her bitter, reminding her of the occurrences that afternoon.

"How do you think it was, Derek?" Casey snapped, furiously scrubbing a fork, the tension quickly returning.

"Why are you getting mad at me? All I did was ask you how you goddamn day was!"

"I realize your IQ is fairly low, Derek, but even you should be able to figure it out. Think. How about because you managed to make it ten times worse?"

"Casey…" he said softly, "I told you why I had to do that."

He was lying. She knew he was lying, he knew she knew. He always hid behind the nice little excuse of having to keep the pretense up, and Casey wasn't having it.

Casey stared at him with such a pointed glare he almost flinched. "Shut up, Derek. If you're going to make excuses, why try?"

She dried her hands hastily, and left him standing in the kitchen.

"Fuck." Derek whispered, closing his eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When he lay in bed, staring at his ceiling, he faintly realized it was one in the morning and he still wasn't asleep. Propping himself up, he flung his blankets off and tiptoed out of his room, waiting momentarily at the door next to his.

He closed the door, as quietly as he could. "What the fuck are you doing!" Casey whispered angrily. He came closer to her, and she turned on her bedside lamp.

"C'mere." He said simply, sitting down, his back resting against her knees.

"Derek, you idiot. No!" Casey whispered, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Come on…" he said, letting the syllables out slowly, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Adorable as it may be, Hell hath no fury like a scorned Casey McDonald. "I'm still mad at you, you ass. What makes you think I want anything to do with you and your pea-sized brain?"

"I can handle staying here all night, you know."

"Enjoy sleeping on the floor." Casey said stubbornly.

"Casey…" he said softly, gazing at her in that way he knew made her knees weak. He briefly touched her face. "Casey, Casey, Casey…"

She held a strong face. Pressing his cheek against hers, he whispered, "Casey."

In that instant her face softened, and she pulled her blankets back to allow him to crawl next to her.

He tried to kiss her; she deterred him.

"I'm still mad at you." She said softly, unconvincingly.

"It was a stupid joke to leave you at school," he stated softly, kissing her neck, "Especially when you're in that uniform."

It was the closest she'd ever get for an apology, she knew. It was the closest they'd get to talking about the fact that six weeks had gone by and an observable shift had occurred in their relationship.

"You are a frustrating, pig-headed, revolting human being, Derek Venturi. I never get my seven hours of sleep when I'm around you." Casey muttered, the words softened by the kiss she gave him.

"Mmm. And you're an irritatingly stuck-up princess sometimes, but you're my princess." He murmured, making his way to her lips.

She tilted her head towards him, and allowed him to grab her closer. He bit her neck in that way that made her tingle; raked his fingernails against her flesh; made her gasp.

Running his fingers roughly through her hair, he murmured, staring up at her, half-plagued with desire, "Still mad at me?"

"Yes." Casey sighed, placing her head in the crook of his neck.

"You smell good." He murmured.

"I know," she said lightly, "But don't think I don't know where that hand of yours is going, Venturi."

He growled playfully in her ear.

"Shush, idiot. Let me sleep."

He wanted to ask her to lie beside him, but to gain some brownie points he let her fall asleep against him.

He liked the smell of mangoes, anyway.