"Baby you can drive my car, and maybe I love you." Drive My Car, the Beatles. -Marti/Dimi-
Drive My Car, 2:28
"Read my lips. Heck, no!"
"Smer-ek!" Marti whines. "Just one night. It's prom. I swear, I won't even let my date sit in the driver's seat, let alone touch the wheel."
Her oldest brother's eyes narrow.
"Oops."
"Who is it?" he asks, seemingly calm.
Casey smiles, but Marti catches the sympathy in her eyes.
"Dimi Davis. Who else?"
Derek laughs. "Smarti. Do you really need a smelly boy to bring you to prom?"
"Dimi hasn't been a smelly boy since we were eight, Smerek. Casey, help me out here."
The woman grimaces. "Sorry, Marti. I think you're on your own here."
"You got your fairytale prom."
Casey sighs. "Yeah. I just never danced with my prince charming."
"You danced with Max a lot," Derek mentions, fist clenched.
"Max wasn't the one who left the dance, brought me a dress, and brought me to the dance. You were."
He grins and kisses his wife's cheek happily. "Love you too, babe."
"Hey. No PDA!" Marti makes a face.
Casey laughs. "Okay, Marti."
Derek studies his little sister. "… Smarti," he pauses, looking sad, "you're growing up."
"Oh, gosh. Not you too. Daddy cried for almost an hour when he saw me in my dress."
Casey giggles.
He shoots her a glare, and then hands his keys to his sister. "Here you go, Smarti."
Marti stands up, beaming. "Thank you, Smerek!"