Author's Note: Look, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I did NOT go looking for this pairing. I remember watching Life with Derek during its original run on Disney Channel. They were in high school, I was the same age. I've loved Michael Seater since he was Lucas on Black Hole High. I never once thought there was any UST there. I recently streamed the whole series and still didn't see it. I think most of what fans see as UST is just chemistry from Michael and Ashley being really good friends off-camera. But when I wasn't ready to move on after finishing the show, I came looking for fan fiction and almost everything out there is DerekXCasey... Now, I can't unsee it and I'm hearing Dasey in nearly every song I hear.
This bad boy is inspired by Morgan Wallen's song Last Night. The song is mostly about what seems to be a toxic, off-and-on relationship, but that's not the route I went for this story. If you're already familiar with the song, you'll see what I mean. I have put A LOT of time and effort into this thing, and I'm finally satisfied. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Disclaimer: I think it's kinda dumb that we always have to say this on a website that was MADE for posting fan work, but no, I do not own Life with Derek or the characters. I do not own Morgan Wallen's lyrics or the phrases in this story they inspired. I'm just someone who has always enjoyed the written word and sometimes needs to write something to feel slightly important.
I wake up to the sound of pounding and run my fingers through my hair. At first, I think there's someone pounding on the door of my dorm suite, but as my hand brushes my scalp, I realize the pounding is only between my ears.
What the hell happened last night?, I think to myself as I try to scrounge up the memories.
I stare at the ceiling a moment, trying to remember, my head still throbbing, then glance over my shoulder when I realize the space between my body and the wall is radiating more warmth than usual.
Oh, shit. The memories slowly come back to me.
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The party is kind of lame, but it's the end of the semester, so why shouldn't we be celebrating? Finals are over, which means no more projects or studying; classes are out for a few weeks; and most of us will be going home for the holidays in the next couple days. The frat house is full of 18-22 year olds, basking in the relative freedom of the break between semesters.
I've got a decent buzz going at this point, and as I take a look around the room, my slightly inebriated brain doesn't register the smile that takes over my face as my eyes land on her. Not right away, at least.
She's dancing like she doesn't have a single care in the world, and right at this moment, maybe she doesn't. There's a giant grin on her face (one that my face is trying to match, but could never compare) and a red plastic cup in her hand. I watch her spin and jump and dance, all the while my grin getting bigger, and then she looks up at me. Her grin falters, but doesn't vanish. Her eyes soften and she raises her cup in my direction. I feel a slight flush in my cheeks as I realize that she's caught me staring, but I raise my cup to her, ever so slightly. Then I turn around and walk out to the back patio. Suddenly, it seems hard to breath.
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I feel the air leave my lungs as though I've been gut-punched. She looks so peaceful while she's sleeping, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly with each breath. Her hair is spread out around her and there's the smallest hint of sunlight on her bare shoulder.
I need a moment to compose my thoughts, so I slip carefully out of the bed and get dressed quietly, so I don't wake her. I consider writing a note, but she'd never expect one from me, so I shrug and silently make my way to the door.
When I return with coffee (black for me, entirely too much cream and sugar for her), she's sitting up in bed, with the thin sheet wrapped around her chest.
"Hey," she says, practically in a whisper. There's the lightest blush across her cheeks.
"Hi. I didn't want to wake you, so I just went for coffee." I approach carefully, sitting beside her and handing her the cup I haven't been drinking from. I catch myself leaning in to kiss her, then realize she may not want that, so I change course for her cheek.
"Thanks. Um…so I guess…we should talk about what happened."
My stomach clenches, because for the first time in my life, I'm nervous that I'm about to be rejected. But I nod my head in agreement.
"What…what do you remember about last night?" I ask quietly.
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When I finish my drink, I head back inside for a refill. Making my way through the crowd, I notice something that makes my stomach drop. There she is, still in the middle of the dancing crowd, but now there's a guy, instead of a group of girl friends, pressing really close against her back and leaning his head down to say something in her ear. She smiles at his words. I suppress the bile trying to force its way up and continue on my mission for a refill.
I fill up my cup with the cheap beer from the keg, gulp it down in seconds, and fill it again, before braving the crowd once more. My eyes find her immediately, involuntarily. She's still dancing with the guy, smiling and swaying to the music. He says something else in her ear, his hands gripping her hips above the waistline of her jeans.
As she spins around to face him, I watch the light leave her eyes. Her smile disappears. She shakes her head slightly and tries to push him away with her hands (one still holding her half-full cup) on his chest. I know she's strong, but she's not strong enough to push this guy away from her, especially not when she's been drinking. His hands wrap easily around her small wrists and keep her from turning away from him. Her eyebrows knit together, in frustration or fear, I don't wait to decide.
I walk up behind the guy and tap him on the shoulder, then chug my cup one more time while he's turning to face me.
"Problem?" I ask.
Casey's shoulders drop and the guy looks really confused.
"No problem here, man." The guy is on the football team, I now recognize, though I couldn't care less what his name is at this moment. He may be bigger than me, but I've had enough to drink that I don't really care about the height difference. "Just dancing. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Well, it seemed to me that the lady was trying to distance herself from you, but you had a pretty strong grip on her wrists."
My eyes dart to where her arms are crossed over her chest and I can see a red ring around at least one of her tiny wrists.
"Who are you, her boyfriend?" The guy snorts at my comment. "I haven't seen you near her all night, so you couldn't be her boyfriend."
"Derek. Don't cause a scene." She looks up at me, eyes pleading, head cocked slightly to the side.
"I'm not her boyfriend," I tell him, not taking my eyes off him. "I'm—someone who cares. Call me a Good Samaritan."
We both watch as the guy starts to square his shoulders, like he's ready to lay into me. There's a small gasp behind me and I feel her hand on my shoulder.
"Okay, Derek. Time to walk away."
I'm still staring the guy down, but she doesn't let me go. When I feel her apply pressure and start tugging, I turn to look her in the eyes for the first time since I interrupted them.
Lowering my voice so the guy can't hear me, I duck my head and tell her, "Only if you come with me."
The tone of my voice lets her know there's no room for discussion.
"Ughhh," she snarls, then turns on her heels, yanking me by the wrist away from the beating I was about to take for her.
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She stares into her coffee for a moment before responding, then she heaves a big sigh and says, "I don't remember everything we said, but I know we laid it all out there. We pretty much said it all."
"When you say 'said it all', you're referring to…?"
"I know we had an argument, after we left the party." She finally looks up at me now. "I remember saying that I hate you…and I wish we'd never met."
"Case, we argue all the time." I give her my signature smirk to try and diffuse some of the tension. "Last night was not our first fight, and there's no way it was the last either."
At this, I finally get a small smile out of her.
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My dorm is closer to the party and I'm buzzed, but not as bad as her, so I steer her towards my building once we get outside. She'll take my bed, like she's done the handful of times I agreed to study nights with her, and I'll take the floor or the couch. I think she must be more drunk than I thought, because if she notices the direction we're going, she doesn't argue.
She does, however, protest my arm around her waist, trying to keep her from falling over in her high heels. She shoves me away from her and tries to walk on her own, but immediately stumbles. My hands reach out for her waist again and she growls at me.
"God, Derek. I hate you so much."
"For what? Trying to help you?" Her hands rip mine away from her body again and this time, she doesn't stumble right away.
"For ruining a perfectly good party! I was actually having fun, for once, in case you couldn't tell." She spins to face me and swats my shoulder with her hand, the jerky movement causing her to sway somewhat.
"First, that party was lame. You only thought it was good because you're drunk." I reach out and grab her elbow to steady her, proving my point, then let her go before she hits me again. "Second, from where I was standing, it looked like you were trying to get away from that guy and he wasn't really having it, Princess."
"Don't!" She rounds on me again, fury in her eyes. "Don't call me Princess. I hate when you call me that, and I hate you!"
"You don't actually hate me." The words come out much quieter than I intended and I couldn't tell you why.
The fire leaves her eyes briefly, but then it's back and she starts walking away from me again.
"I wish I had never met you!" I'm stunned, even though this is nothing compared to our usual fights, and rooted to the spot. Before she gets too far for me to hear, she says what sounds like, "Life would be so much easier that way."
I let her get a few steps ahead of me then shake my head and start to follow her.
"Let me get this straight. You're pissed at me for trying to protect you?!"
"You weren't trying to protect me, Derek! You were jealous! That guy had his hands on me and you couldn't stand it!" She's spun back to face me again and is getting closer with every word.
I try not to let her see that she's right, because the problem is, it's both. I was trying to protect her from that guy, but if I'm being honest with myself (something I've been trying not to do for far longer than I care to admit), I was also a little jealous. Even in her drunken state, she knows me so well she can see right through my act, and that should bother me more than it actually does. But I will still try to keep up the facade a little longer.
"Jealous?! Right. So you're telling me that you weren't trying to get away from him when he grabbed your wrists and wouldn't let go?" I snatch up one of her hands and show her the red marks still encircling the wrist. "You wanted him to hold you so tight that you bruised? Is that it?"
She jerks her hand away, and opens her mouth to counter me, but I cut her off.
"Because I saw the look on your face, Casey! I saw the shift in your eyes from happy and carefree to distressed and unsettled!"
My words hang in the silence for a moment, as her face shifts from surprise to realization to confusion in a matter of seconds.
"How could you see all that from across the room, Derek? How could you possibly tell what I was thinking, just by looking at my eyes through the crowded party?" I thought she'd be yelling again, but she speaks much softer this time.
I take a deep breath before I answer.
"Because I know you, Case. And I know what every expression on your face means."
She just stares at me, dumbstruck.
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"Look, Case. The way I see it, that was all just the liquor talking last night." I down the last of my coffee and set the empty cup on my bedside table. "You know how we are, even when we're sober. You like to fight; I like to say shit I don't mean."
Her head snaps up and (this time, I'm certain) there's fear in her eyes.
"So…you didn't mean it?" It looks like she's on the verge of tears, and dammit, I hate when she cries.
"What are you talking about?"
"What you said last night, right before we…?"
I raise my eyebrows in question…then I remember.
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I finally manage to get her up three flights of stairs, drunk and stumbling in her heels, and through the door to my dorm. She lands unceremoniously on my couch and yanks her shoes off with a giggle. I have to duck before she throws them over her shoulder, narrowly missing my head. I lean over to pick them up as she stretches herself along the cushions, sighing happily.
She's laid out, smiling up at me, and then her eyes start to drift shut.
"Oh, Space Case," I whisper to myself.
I walk over and pick her up bridal style, with the idea of depositing her in my bed before coming back to the couch myself. But as I set her down on my bed, her arms around my neck tighten and she won't let go.
"Casey, it's fine. Take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."
"No, stay with me. Please?" She makes to lay down and takes me down with her. "I'll sleep better with you here."
She still hasn't let me go, so I scramble to stretch out beside her. "Okay, okay. Just let go of my neck."
She smiles and releases me, but quickly curls herself into my chest. I kick my shoes off the end of the bed and bring the covers over her, resting my arm around her waist. Within moments, she's asleep and it doesn't take long for me to follow suit.
I wake with a start some time later, when I feel soft lips on my temple. Just as my brain begins to tell me it was all a dream, I look around in the dark and see Casey looking back at me with a soft expression.
"Hey. What time is it?" It's still dark outside, so it can't be morning yet.
"About 3 AM," she replies quietly. "You stayed with me." It's a statement, but I can hear the question in her voice. I've learned her so well over the years, and she knows it.
"You asked me to," I tell her, with a small shrug. "Plus, I figured if you woke up and didn't remember how you got here, it would be better if I was around. Less yelling." A smirk plays on my lips again and she mirrors it before leaning toward me.
In the darkness, I feel her kiss like I feel the sun on my face on a warm summer day. It feels like a cool breeze; like passing the test you knew you failed; like making the team after working you ass off to make the cut. It feels like coming home.
When she tries to pull away from me, I follow her. My hand reaches up to rest on her cheek and hold her to me, just for a moment longer. Then I realize what's happening and break away suddenly.
"I'm sorry," I begin. "I—we…we had too much to drink. I shouldn't have—"
"I'm not still drunk, Derek. I wanted to kiss you. So I did. Please don't apologize, because I've wanted to know what that felt like for a long time."
And I've wanted the same thing for so long, I literally can't even remember how long, so I kiss her again. Somewhat tentative and hesitant, but when she doesn't pull away, I take it to mean she's okay with it. My hand finds her cheek again as I lean over her to deepen the kiss. She moans softly at the back of her throat and her fingers find my hair. When she tugs softly, my lips leave hers and trail down her jaw to her neck.
My hands wander down to her hips and press her into the mattress. Her hands begin to play with the hem of my shirt. I feel her fingertips ghost along my back and a shiver ripples through me. When she mutters, "Mmm, Derek," in my ear, a growl rips through my chest.
My lips finally leave her neck and I shove myself away from her. I sit up on my knees, trying to catch my breath as she lays panting below me, eyes wide with questioning.
"Derek? What's wrong? I—I thought…"
"It just doesn't feel right," I huff out, still a little breathless.
"Der-EK! We are NOT even related!" I swear she rolls her eyes in the darkness.
"No, it's not that," I correct her. I haven't worried about that for, well I have no idea how long. "It's just that…it feels…a little like taking advantage." She stares up at me in bewilderment and I feel like I need to clarify a little further. "You—I mean, we—but mostly you—had a lot to drink tonight. And I may be a lot of things, but Derek Venturi is not a man who takes advantage of a woman who has had too much to drink."
She sits up and nods her head. "Derek, I told you. I'm not drunk anymore. I'm not completely sober yet, but I could easily tell you 'no' if I wanted to." I hear the lightest of chuckles. "But if you don't want to—I mean, if you don't want me—we don't have to…"
"Casey, it's not about that." I'm getting frustrated that, as usual, we can't say what we really mean to each other. It feels like we've been skirting around the subject since high school and I'm a little fed up. My self-control has worn thin. "Believe me, it has nothing to do with not wanting you, or not wanting this. I just want to be sure that it's exactly what you want before we go any further and can't take it back."
She's staring at me with her big, blue eyes that stop me in my tracks on a regular basis. Her hand reaches out to caress my cheek and I can't help it, my eyes flutter closed as I lean ever so slightly into her hand.
"I've wanted this for so long, Case." My eyes open and lock with hers again. "Trust me, even if you wanted to wait, maybe wake up tomorrow and decide after you're definitely sober, I'd be okay with that. Because I will still wake up wanting you and me."
Her eyes look like she's about to cry, but no tears fall. She just brings her other hand up to my face as well and holds eye contact.
"Drunk or not, I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't want to, Derek. I'm sober enough to know this is what I want."
With that, she pulls my face toward hers and kisses me, hard. This time, I don't argue with her.
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"Oh, God, Casey. Absolutely not!" She gasps and makes to shove me off the bed, her eyes hurt and furious. "Wait, no! That came out wrong!" When did I become this guy, fumbling over my words and scrambling to fix my mistakes? "No, no, no. Listen to me. What I meant was that of course I meant want I said last night. Of course I meant it and would absolutely not sleep with you otherwise. Of course I want you, I want us."
I force myself to stop rambling and look up at her. At some point, I left the bed and started pacing without realizing what I was doing. When I manage to stop my feet and actually look at her, she's looking at me with hesitation and then looks down at her hands still holding her coffee in her lap.
"D-do you—is that not…what you want?" Why do I sound so terrified? I'm Derek Venturi. I've never been rejected in my life, and here I am, practically pleading with my step-sister to give us a chance.
Then she speaks up quietly.
"Do you want to know what happened last night? At the party, before you came to my rescue?" She finally looks up at me and waits for me to answer. I just nod ever so slightly, encouraging her to continue. "I was dancing, and drinking, and I saw you across the room. And maybe it was the alcohol, or just my brain trying to give me what I've been denying myself for so long, but when I felt that guy dancing behind me and whispering in my ear…part of me thought…it was you. The part of me that was still rooted in reality said, couldn't be Derek, you just saw him leave out the back door. But the drunk part of my brain just ignored it and carried on."
Her cheeks are flushed like she's embarrassed, so I take a couple slow steps and sit beside her on the bed again. "It's okay, Case."
"No, let me finish. Right before you came along, he started whispering in my ear again. He asked if I wanted to leave, get some fresh air, maybe go somewhere to talk. The drunk part of my brain still thought it was you, so I smiled and started to agree." She pauses to take a breath, and I don't interrupt her. "But then he…he said 'Let's go, Princess.' And I just knew something wasn't right. I spun around to look at him and finally realized it definitely wasn't you, but then you were there, within seconds, and I just got so angry."
By this time, she's crying, and I really, really, hate when she cries. It makes my stomach churn that she's so upset, especially when it's my fault.
"Angry?" I ask her quietly, when she doesn't continue for a minute.
"Yes! I was angry at myself, for believing the lies my drunken brain tried to tell me. And I was angry at you, for suddenly being there, and being so protective all the time. But I was also angry that you never actually do anything about your jealousy, Derek! You just get mad and start fights and scare off any potential boyfriends, when the only guy I've actually wanted since we came to Queens is YOU!"
She's hitting me now, her fists swatting at my chest and shoulders, but she's still crying. I can hear her struggling for a proper breath, so I try to grab her hands and stop her attack.
"Casey! Casey, baby, please calm down. Take a deep breath and look at me." It takes a moment or two, but she actually listens to me. I can feel some of the tension leave her body as she starts to relax in my arms. She leans back slightly to look up at my eyes, asking me silently to continue. "When I said last night that I've wanted this for so long, I meant that I'm pretty sure at least a part of me has wanted this since high school. There wasn't really anything to be done about it back then; we were both minors living in our parents' house. The same house, no less, with our huge, blended family watching every move. But baby, we're both adults now, and I don't know why it took me so long to realize that. Maybe I was just scared."
She scoffs in my ear. "Derek Venturi, scared? Of what?"
"Of you not wanting me," I shrug. This time she looks at me with utter disbelief. "Casey, honey, you never gave me any indication that you wanted this. Nothing I could prove, anyway. Any time I thought, maybe, I could see things shifting between us, you retreated back into yourself and I was left wondering, yet again."
Quickly, she places her hands on my chest and pushes herself away so I'm holding her at arms' length.
"Did it ever occur to you, Derek, that maybe I was scared too?" It's my turn to look at her in disbelief. "That not only are you THE Derek Venturi, the guy who could get any girl he wanted in our high school and sometimes not in our high school, but you're also the guy who called me the ugly step-sister and grade grubber and Klutzilla and all the other horrible names you've called me since we met? I just knew that if I said something about how I felt and you didn't feel the same way, you'd tease me about it for the rest of our lives."
"First of all," I tell her, "most of those horrible names and all the pranks I used to pull were me trying to hide how I really felt." I give her a classic smile and continue. "Second, a lot has changed since then. We've both grown up since coming to Queens, and I like to think that I've matured. High school Derek would have bolted at the first sign of tears and a Casey freak-out. But don't you think it's about damn time we have an actual conversation about this, about us?"
She considers my words for a moment, then slowly nods her head in agreement. Her hands drop into her lap and instinctively, I wrap my hands around hers. She looks at me cautiously.
"Are you sure this is what you want? I know it's too late to change what's already happened, but if you don't—"
"I thought I made myself pretty clear last night." I'm firm, but smiling. "I've woken up every morning for months, years even, wanting you and me, and if I have a say in the matter, that's never going to change. Casey, I love you. This—us—is what I want. What is it that you want?"
She stares at me so long that I feel all the air leave my lungs. It looks like she's thinking long and hard about how to answer me, but if she doesn't answer soon, I may pass out.
"I love you too, Derek. Of course I want you." Her smile lights up her whole face, the whole room, my whole world.
I crash my lips to hers and we topple over sideways on the bed. I realize she's been wearing only the sheet this entire time, and that's all the better for me. Because now that we've finally said it all, I know there's no way it was our last night.
It won't be easy—we will still fight, a lot, because no matter how much we've grown up or how mature I think I've become, some things will never change. At some point, maybe next week, maybe next month, we'll have to tell our family. I have no idea how they will react—hopefully they won't disown us—but it will have to be done eventually.
There will be a lot of changes to get used to, but after running from my real feelings for so long, I know I'm ready. I know we can do this.
Last night was only the beginning.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I hope the end doesn't feel rushed. When I hear a song and think, "ooh, I could write a such-and-such story about this," I'm usually thinking about the middle of the story. Not the beginning or the end, and then I'm scrambling to figure out how to start it and wrap things up. I felt like I need to address the "what happens next," but I didn't want to make Derek and Casey talk anymore. Meh, hopefully it didn't ruin anything. I also hope the timeline switching wasn't confusing. I tried to make it as clear as possible.
Thanks again for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought!
-Bethany