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The first time he sees her, she looks kind of normal and quiet. A little innocent, with those braids and the Catholic school skirt, but not too bad.
He realizes later he missed the fact that she's a total dork, and not in the quirky, funny kind of way. The annoying kind. The exhausting kind.
At lunch, he listens as she says things like academic assistance and student collaboration. It's physically painful.
And she’s too oblivious to even notice that fake-Derek (Ralph) is flirting with her. Clumsily, too—a poor representation of real Derek’s skills.
Not that real-Derek would ever flirt with her. Gross.
Still, he has to interrupt when Ralph tries to ask her out. That’s just wrong. And it’s not his fault that he can’t resist ruffling her feathers once he’s at their table.
When she stands up in the cafeteria and says, "excuse me?" to him with that look in her eye, the maniacal one he'll later come to recognize as her default setting, he gets that little itch. The one that means he needs to mess with her. Which is a ridiculously easy thing to do, as it turns out.
“What a noob,” he says to Ralph once she storms off.
“Really? I thought she was awesome.”
Ralph smiles fondly like he’s found a new best friend.
Ralph has terrible taste.
He rolls his eyes, failing to think of one awesome thing about her. She didn’t even notice that Ralph is kind of a moron—she thought he was being witty.
“Dude, she’s a total keener.”
“She’s hot, though. You should date her.”
He grits his teeth. “She could be my stepsister.”
Ralph chuckles. “Oh, right. Maybe I should date her.”
Derek doesn’t worry too much about that because there’s no way she’s moving here. He won’t allow it.
He's the king of the castle and he's not letting some annoying all-girl school loser with braces ruin it. With her holier-than-thou tone and the way she sat up too straight and looked down her nose at him like he was gum on her shoe.
Only a few short days later, she manages to ruin it anyways. He doesn’t even see it coming while they’re sitting at the restaurant and plotting the quickest way to get their parents out of this whole mess. Just when it’s going so well—Nora gave the ring back!—Casey drags him away for another “talk.”
“Who are we to stand in the way of their happiness?” She says it all low and tragic, and he wants to laugh in her face. He barely restrains himself, only because his dad is watching and he’s on thin ice after the whole Ralph thing.
"I don't know who you are, but I'm Derek," he says with more patience than she deserves.
“Oh,” she says, kind of sadly, and he knows that it’s about to go very, very wrong.
He watches in frozen horror as she fixes what he (skillfully!) broke between their parents.
And sure, seeing his dad smile like that, the way he hasn't smiled—ever?—is almost worth it. Almost gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling. Until he remembers that he has to live with…her.
George is happy, Casey's happy, they're all happy except Derek—who manages to be civilized and tries very hard not to think about the fact that a girl his age with an incessant need for organization and a voice that makes him tense and pissed off for no reason will be staying in his house, permanently.
**************************
The first time Derek feels something…wrong…is when he hears the words, “guys like us.”
He stands there like a dope, watching as Scott winks and leaves, and for once he has no idea what to do. Derek Venturi, speechless. It's unprecedented!
Laying in bed, he thinks about the way that she scrunches up her nose when she laughs, and the blue dress she wears when she’s going to something important.
He thinks about how excited she was to wear it with Scott.
Derek tries to focus on the annoying things, like her bunny slippers or how neurotic she is about the bathroom cabinet. But suddenly those things seem kind of cute.
What the fuck.
Maybe he's developing some sort of rare mental disorder. That would explain a lot, actually.
It’s all Casey’s fault. It’s her fault that she does these insane things that are kind of hot and that she’s so neurotic and that her hair smells all sugary and good.
Crap.
Abort, he tells his brain, but it's too late. Now he's thinking about the way her hair looks after dance, all soft and shiny, the kind of hair you want to sink your hands into. The super annoying way she bristles when she gets morally outraged, and how she over-enunciates when she explains things to Marti.
He knows why he's thinking these things. Derek has…feelings. And even worse, he now knows he has feelings. This is a disaster.
But besides the fact that Casey hates his guts (and let’s be real, that’s not exactly an obstacle: Derek could change her mind in a hot second if he wanted to, because he’s Derek Venturi), there’s George. There’s the way George smiles when Nora yells at him about the dishes. And the way Marti snuggles up against Nora at night when they watch TV.
He tells himself, very firmly, that nothing will change, and he puts these feelings in the "no" box. Which—Derek doesn't really have a "no" box, so he's surprised he manages it. He decides it's the one selfless act of his life. And he tries, very very hard, to ignore that part of his brain that notices how she looks when she blushes.
**************************
The first time he sees her cry (for real, her face all screwed up and red) is after her dad leaves.
He knows he should stay out of the kitchen because ugh, feelings, but somehow his feet carry him there anyways.
“What’s wrong with you,” he says, feeling that familiar panic at the sight of—shudder—weeping.
Back in the safety of his room, he kind of wishes he did something nicer. Like pat her on the arm, or something. Which is weird, because making her upset is basically his mission in life.
Which is weird, because it’s basically his mission in life to upset her.
He thinks about her makeup all messy around her blue eyes, and the flour on her cheek. About the way her shoulders kind of rolled over once she thought he’d left the room.
He thinks about Casey practicing her dance routine for hours last month, screaming at anyone who interrupted her. She was good—even he would admit it, at least to himself. He remembers that her dad didn't come to the recital, though, and suddenly he feels a little less camaraderie with the guy.
Before he can really think about it, he calls her dad and uses some of his Derek Venturi charm to get him to come back.
Later, when he’s in his room listening to Casey brush her teeth while happily humming off-key, he tries to ignore the warm feeling taking over his chest. It doesn't work.
**************************
The first time he has a sex dream about her is all because of one stupid line.
“Teach me, Derek. Teach me not to care about my future.”
He just ignores her when she says it, writes it off as one of her crazy neurotic moments. Only somehow, she worms her way into his subconscious mind, again, and it turns out that dream Derek has no standards.
“Teach me, Derek.” Her big blue eyes are wide, serious (the way she looks when she’s studying those stupid cue cards), and she’s kneeling in front of him. She’s wearing those secretary glasses and her top—her top is unbuttoned, way too low. “Teach me how to make it good.”
She lips her licks - God, that tongue - and unzips his pants, slowly, hesitantly, like she’s a little nervous.
Derek jolts awake abruptly.
Fuck, he thinks, as his alarm clock bleats. He's sweaty and way too hard and guilty. He doesn't like any of it.
He should definitely, definitely stop thinking about the dream. Because Casey is his stepsister, and besides, she would never actually do that. It wasn't even a full sex dream—he shouldn't be this worked up.
Only he stays wide awake, all tense. And he’s a guy, so eventually he gives in and jerks off until he comes, harder than he has in a while, picturing nothing (certainly not her wet mouth wrapped around him instead of his hand).
After, he puts the dream firmly in the ever-growing “no” box and fills her conditioner bottle with mayonnaise before school, just to remind himself that this was a one-time thing. A fluke. A glitch in the matrix.
And then he throws himself into studying, putting more effort into exams than he has into anything, mainly because Casey is insane about studying and drills facts into his head until he gets a migraine that makes him mostly forget about the dream.
And if he occasionally pulls the image of out his spank bank and pictures her kneeling in front of him with those blue eyes, begging him to let her…well, he’s a teenage dude. It’s the hormones. He could be thinking of anyone. Really.
**************************
The first time he holds her hand, at least the first time he can really remember, when he means it, is after the party in Toronto. And that's only because Truman French is a fucking idiot.
She’s crying (Jesus, again), in this quiet, weepy, heartbroken sort of way. He turned the radio on after Vicky got out and it’s playing some ‘80s rock song that George likes. The chords almost drown out her sniffles. Almost, but not quite.
He feels this weird sort of pressure in his chest that makes him want to say something way too soft. He ignores it.
“He never even liked me,” she says first. “He just wanted to date everyone in school.”
Which is stupid, because anyone with eyes can see that he did like her, at least in the beginning. But Truman definitely likes the rush of actually getting the girl, not staying with her. Derek knows that feeling, though he can’t quite picture how anyone could feel it while dating Casey. Once you have her, why would you want anyone else?
He doesn't think about that too hard.
“You’re better off without him,” he says. A bad, corny line, but hey: this isn’t his field of expertise.
Casey just hugs her arms around her stomach a little more tightly.
Her makeup is all smudged, running down her face. He can see the streaks when he peeks out of the corner of his eye.
Derek really isn’t in the mood for this. He didn’t want to come in the first place—a three hour drive—and now he’s all kinds of pissed off, jumpy in the way he gets when he wants to prank someone. Casey, usually. And she dragged him away from that cute girl when something was finally going right for him. He should be mad.
“Vicky looked really pretty tonight,” she says.
Why is she doing this to him? This is definitely a conversation for Emily.
He tries to picture the girl from the party. Anna? Or was it Annmarie? But for some reason Truman French’s face keeps popping into his mind, and he kind of wishes he’d punched him. And she's sitting right next to him, crying, and he can't picture the girl enough to care.
“He’s an idiot, Case. Everyone knows that.”
“I think he just wanted to sleep with me,” she says, too quietly.
Anger bubbles up in him, hot and thick. He definitely should have hit him.
“You drove all the way here to see him,” he spits out. “He’s a fucking idiot.”
She’s silent after that and turns her face towards the window. But she slides her hand in his and squeezes. Her hand is soft and a little clammy, and even though he’s Derek Venturi and he went beyond hand-holding in middle school, it makes his pulse pound in his ears. That's annoying.
He doesn’t let go the whole way home.
**************************
The first time they kiss is in a dirty alleyway at Queens.
He’d left the hockey party early, because they ran out of beer, and because some older kid on his team was dancing with Casey. Ryan. His name is Ryan and Derek hates him.
She follows him, though, which isn’t surprising. She has some sort of twisted notion that she has to look out for him here, like she’s his mother. He hasn’t had a mother in a long time, not since he was twelve, and he certainly doesn’t need her checking on him now. He doesn't need anyone.
He ducks between two houses into some tiny, makeshift alley, and she follows him there, too, which annoys him. Everything about her annoys him.
“Derek,” she says in her too-shrill voice. “Derek, stop!”
He sighs and turns around, mainly because the alley is a dead end. "Go back to the party."
Casey glares at him, unimpressed.
"You seriously hated me being there that much?"
And yeah, he does. Hates how she flounced in wearing that little dress. How she waved at him like they're buddies and spent the rest of the night talking to Ryan. God: he has to deal with this at home, but here too?
And he knows he’s being a little stupid. Dramatic, even. Ryan isn’t a bad guy. Perfect for your sister, says the logical part of his brain.
Stepsister, he tells it. Shut up.
Derek shrugs. “You know—not everything I do is about you.”
Casey doesn’t flinch like she used to, which means she doesn't believe him. She just exhales slowly. And keeps staring at him with those eyes all big and concerned, like he’s the one with the issue. Like she knows everything he's saying is bullshit, that everything in his goddamn life has revolved around her since they were fifteen.
God, why won't she stop trying to help him?
“You should have stayed with Ryan,” he says, his voice a little too loud in the quiet alley. "He seems like your type."
She still says nothing and it makes him feel almost embarrassed. Like he's left his goalie completely exposed.
She just keeps staring at him with those blue eyes. He has to look away.
“Why did you leave?” Her voice is small and quiet.
He doesn’t have it in him to think up an insult right now, to lie, always lying.
“Don’t.”
“Just tell me.” She looks serious, like she already knows.
He exhales, feeling exhausted, and tired after years of it, and the words just kind of come out.
“You know why, Case.”
She’s very still for a moment. Derek wonders if he’s gone too far, if even his charisma can’t back him out of this one.
Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she’s disgusted, and she’ll run away screaming and never talk to him again.
Then Casey steps closer. She's only a few inches away now and he can smell the sweet punch on her breath. “I don’t know. So explain.”
She’s the one lying now.
He kisses her instead.
Casey makes a soft noise when he slides his tongue into her mouth, and twists her fingers into his hair, and all he can think is this. This is what he’s been looking for.