"Edwin, are you questioning the chef? I said, hand me the ladle!"

"Yes, Derek!" Lizzie quickly snatched Edwin's hand from grabbing another utensil. Derek was running his stepbrother ragged on Thanksgiving Day, and Lizzie had to put an end to this madness.

"Edwin! You're too old to let Derek order you around like this. We're out of here, Derek. Sorry, Case." Lizzie took off her apron and threw in the towel, quite literally speaking.

"Great, our only helpers are gone because of you! And newsflash: Edwin is right; you can't use a ladle for potato salad!" The only way this ladle was going to be used is to beat Derek with it.

"Says the one who uses chopsticks with noodles. Why don't you stop questioning my methods and start making your salad that no one will bother to eat," Derek insisted.

"It's a store-bought salad, Derek; I don't have to make it. Besides, I'm here to help you with the turkey."

"You're here to help me? That's funny because your constant yapping is only distracting me."

Casey rolled her eyes, checking off her list of things to do. Unfortunately, beating Derek with a ladle wasn't on the list but could be added at her discretion.

She placed her list back onto the island and looked up just in time to see Derek kicking the oven closed. He then helped himself to a bread roll on the counter as a reward.

"Stop eating all of the food!"

"If you say so." Derek took the half-eaten bread and tossed it at Casey, hitting her on the chest.

"Der-ek!" Casey yelled.

"Ca-sey!" Derek mocked.

Casey found the roll on the floor and threw it at him, accidentally hitting the toaster instead.

"Is everything okay in there?!"

Oh, great. Nora had a sixth sense for their fighting, even when she was far away in another room.

"Yeah, Mom. Everything is great! We've got everything under control." Casey adjusted the toaster back in its original spot, making sure there was no sign of horseplay.

Casey turned back to Derek, her palms resting on the free counter space.

"Alright, Derek, how about a truce? The holidays are very important to some of us, so we need to be civil to one another," Casey explained.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It is a big deal. I heard Marti talking to George about how she misses your mom. Whether or not you care about the holidays, find it in your heart to care about your family. You and I don't need to make things worse for everyone today, okay?"

Derek had forgotten that his mom would miss yet another holiday. He was used to her absence, but he never took into account how hurt Marti must feel at such a young age.

"Yeah, you're right." Derek grew quiet at the counter, long enough for Casey to suspect he was upset but trying to hide his emotions.

"I'm sorry your mom can't make it."

Granted, Derek's mom was a busy woman, but that didn't excuse her for being absent on the holidays. Every child needs their mom - especially those who claim to be invincible.

"Can't or won't? Whatever. It doesn't matter. She's never here on the holidays, so I'm used to it." He expected his mom's absence, but maybe he wasn't exactly used to it.

Casey should have thought better than to bring up such a sore subject, but her heart was in the right place.

"You can cry if you want; I'll blame it on the onions." She was trying to lighten the mood but also let him know it was okay to be vulnerable. They fought like cats and dogs, but at the end of the day, they were family.

"Venturi men don't cry."

"I'll try to remember that when I see a real Venturi man," she teased.

"You're hilarious."

Derek still looked upset, and Casey didn't know how to console him without scaring him off. She was the kind of person who needed a shoulder to cry on when she was sad, but Derek hated physical touch.

Hmm, maybe she didn't need to console him, but show him she understood what he might be going through instead.

Casey licked her lips as she debated opening up to Derek about her own feelings. It's never worked before, but maybe with time, being open with Derek would give him the confidence to do the same.

"I cry about my dad sometimes." The admission slipped out before she could think better of it.

Derek's eyes, previously focused on the counter, moved to her.

Casey expected Derek to roll his eyes or tell her how predictable she was to cry over this, considering she gets emotional over everything, but he didn't. Instead, he watched her in complete silence, waiting for her to continue. And so she did.

"When he's here, it's great, but visiting once in a blue moon doesn't exactly make him parent of the year, you know? He has every opportunity when he's away from work to come and see me or invite me over, but he chooses not to. I worry about Lizzie because she's so young and she needs her dad, too." Derek listened intently to her story, but still, she expected him to make a harsh comment about how no one wanted to see her, blah blah blah, but he didn't.

"Your dad is a piece of shit for making you cry. Maybe one day, your dad and my mom can get together. They'd make a perfect match."

"Ew. We don't need any more blended family weirdness," she laughed.

Their eyes locked for a moment before Derek looked away, a funny feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was just hunger.

"Agreed."

Thanksgiving dinner was served without a hitch. Derek and Casey were by no means experts in the kitchen, but together, they had accomplished the impossible: they managed to cook and not kill each other. (How the food tasted would be another story.)

"Looks like you owe me your allowance, Edwin."

"Aw, come on!"

"What did you two bet on this time?" Derek asked, taking a seat in front of Casey.

"Edwin bet that you and Casey wouldn't be able to get along and that we would be eating hotdogs for dinner." Lizzie had a great idea. Hot dogs would have been easier to make than that darn turkey, and in considerably less time.

"Once Lizzie and I stopped helping, I thought for sure I had it in the bag! Of all days, you two choose today to get along?"

"Of all days? Edwin, it's Thanksgiving," George chimed in.

"Yeah, and thanks a lot, Derek." Edwin wasn't taking the loss well.

"Your loss is my gain," Derek smirked.

"And mine. I knew Casey would pull through," Lizzie cheered.

"Mom always works so hard on Thanksgiving. She deserves one holiday of peace," Casey smiled.

"I'm proud of you, Derek. You managed to survive one day without being a total jerk, and you made a moderately good turkey," George applauded.

Derek's fork clashed against his plate.

"Moderately good? Moderately good?! I slaved over that oven for hours!" Derek yelled.

"Yeah! And I precisely measured all of the ingredients!" Casey added.

"Where is the respect? Casey and I should send you to your room without dinner!" Everyone turned to face Derek and Casey in bewilderedment. Teaming up against George? That was a first!

"Since when are you two the parents? Nora..." George looked to his wife for help, but she shrugged her shoulders as if she couldn't help him.

"I'm sorry, George, but the kids do have a point."

"You're not serious? They insult my food all of the time!"

"George," Nora shook her head and sighed at her immature husband.

"This isn't fair." He shrunk into his seat like a child, folding his arms.

"Life isn't fair. Eat your food and be grateful," Derek ordered his father, chewing on a piece of turkey.

"It think it tastes great, Smerek!" At least Marti approved. (Although, anything Derek made for her would get her seal of approval.)

"Thanks, Smarti."

"You haven't touched your salad, Liz," Casey noticed.

"It's Thanksgiving, Case. I'm sorry, but a salad is last on my list today."

"Told you," Derek laughed, quickly ending whatever mutiny they had against the others. So much for teamwork!

"Fine. More for me," Casey huffed.

Lizzie tapped on her glass of water as if she was giving a toast of some kind, but no one stopped eating.

"Eckhm! In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'd like to announce that I'm letting Edwin keep his allowance. Winning is enough of a reward for me."

"Thanks, Liz." Edwin wrapped an arm around Lizzie's shoulder and gave her a squeeze. His breath was enough for Lizzie to push him away quickly.

While Casey seemed touched by their sweet moment, Derek didn't share the same sentiment.

"Lizzie, that's just as bad as losing. You can't do that." Has she learned nothing from the master of bets?

"Yes, she can. Shut up, Derek," Edwin urged.

"Yes. Shut up, Derek," Casey mirrored Ed.

"I think that's very kind of you, Lizard. We all need to follow your lead and find kindness in our hearts for the holidays." Nora was the voice of reason, so much so, George started to have a change of heart because of her.

"You're right, sweetheart; we should be kinder to one another. Derek, the time you and Casey put into making Thanksgiving special doesn't go unnoticed. I want everyone at this table to know how thankful I am for all of you," George announced.

"Aw, that's sweet, George. And since this is such a great meal, let's enjoy it." Nora wouldn't exactly tell her family to shut up and eat, but that's what she meant.

"I think I've had enough. My stomach's not feeling right." Casey noticed something wasn't right after a few bites.

"Do you need me to check your temperature, honey?" Nora was rightfully concerned, a crease forming between her eyes.

"No, I'm sure it's nothing. I probably ate too many rolls. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to rest in the living room."

Derek noticed Casey's face was paler than usual, but he chose not to comment on it. He didn't want her to think he was actually worried about her.

After a successful dinner was over, Lizzie and Edwin were nice enough to offer to clean, and Derek was nice enough to let them.

Derek, ready to relax, walked over to the living room and found that Casey was lying on the couch in the dark with only the soft light from the television illuminating her face. Derek kicked at her feet, and when she didn't urge him to stop or call him a jerk, he knew something was wrong.

Their truce for Thanksgiving Day was over, but still, Derek stood beside the couch, without obligation, ready to put his insensitivity aside.

"You okay?" He asked.

"No. I think the salad was bad. I think I'm gonna - " Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, Casey rose to her feet and stumbled upstairs to the bathroom. Derek heard the door slam, and what he heard after that, he'd rather not talk about.

The turkey must have put everyone to sleep because no one but Derek seemed to notice Casey was hurling upstairs. He had no choice but to trudge after her.

Derek hesitantly knocked on the door with the side of his pointer finger, his ear leaning against the wood to make sure she was still alive.

"I'm fine, Mom; it's just a bad salad." Her voice was weak, and she didn't sound fine at all. When she started to throw up again, Derek grew worried and opened the door without permission.

Her hair was nearing the toilet seat, so Derek instinctively pulled her curls away, his thumb and index finger acting as a ponytail.

"What are you doing?" She mustered up enough energy to question what the hell Derek was doing, but she couldn't find it in her to deny his help.

"What does it look like, Cinderella? Only you would get sick on Thanksgiving and ruin a perfect day," he teased.

Derek has been to a lot of parties, and never once did he find himself in the bathroom holding a girl's hair. This was new low for him.

"It's still perfect!"

"Says the one face-to-face with a toilet bowl. On second thought, this is a perfect day for me."

How could one guy be so kind and so irritating?!

"Derek, please leave."

"Come on. I'm kiddin'."

"Kidding or not, you might as well leave. My stomach is still upset, so I will have to camp out in the bathroom tonight. I don't think I can move."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not sleeping on the bathroom floor tonight. Edwin still hasn't taken a shower, and God knows he needs one."

"Well, that's a lot coming from you."

Derek was relieved that at least her comebacks were returning.

"It is. So get up."

"Derek, if I could get up, I would."

She was so stubborn.

"Alright, you asked for it."

With one swift movement, Derek cradled Casey into his arms and hoisted her up as if she weighed the same as Simon.

"Derek, put me down!" Casey was afraid he might drop her, and she was too sick for that to happen.

"I don't like this any more than you do, Princess. Deal with it."

He carried her bridal style out of the bathroom. Casey's head lazily rested against Derek's chest. Her hair tickled his chin, but he didn't bother moving it. She smelled cherries, and in this moment, he didn't even care if her hair accidentally touched the toilet bowl. Wow, he has really gone mad.

The walk to the basement was met with comfortable silence. Casey's stomach still felt upset, but not enough to puke again, thankfully.

Derek gently placed her onto the bed and covered her with their comforter. His kindness was beyond out-of-character.

"Thank you, Derek."

"You see, this is exactly why I don't eat salads."

"You don't have to worry; I won't be buying any next year. We'll make the turkey and call it a day."

"Next year? Are you saying you want to do this again with me next year?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It was kind of nice, getting along with you."

He felt the sides of his lip twitch and waited for the thrill in his stomach to subside before speaking.

"Don't get too used to it. My kindness expires after the holidays. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Uhuh. Don't worry, Derek; your secret is safe with me."