LIFE WITH DEREK | heart snaps {truman/casey}
Title: heart snaps
Fandom: Life With Derek
Character/Pairing: Casey/Truman, onesided-Casey/Derek.
Prompt: anything, honestly. the whole hate!love between them is so EPIC so something related to that of course. - ironside
Rating: T
Notes: I don't even know what the hell this is. o_o i screwed with the timeline a lot. ZANISHA I AM SO SORRY.
If there’s one thing Casey has prided herself in, it’s never living by clichés. She thinks they’re silly - little almost-proverbs people make up so their problems seem more unbearable. Casey faces her problems head-on and never backs down, never tries to take the easy way out.
Except when it comes to Derek - and therefore, by a thin line of Casey-logic no one but her can understand, Truman.
God, she really hates Truman. From his laugh to his smarmy smile, to the way he lets his fingers brush her hip in the hallway, right down to how he eats his lunch. Everything about him sets off fuses she didn’t know she had, and makes her skin tingle and flush out of rage (or something else).
The only other person who’s ever gotten under her skin by simply breathing is Derek, and that, Casey thinks, is where the problem lies.
Truman and Derek are exactly alike. Cocky, confident, smooth-talking jerks who get a kick out of tormenting her.
There is a fine line between love and hate, they say.
Good thing Casey never listens.
-- --- --
The thing is, before Truman, Derek was her only source of witty rapport, and now that he’s whipped and panting after Sally (notjealousnotjealousnotjealous) Casey thinks it’s kind of pathetic that her only other form of mental stimulation is, well, Truman.
“So, are you still doing the whole “One Semester of Single-ism” thing?”
She sighs, and counts backwards from ten. “Single-ism isn’t a word, idiot.”
“Of course it is. I used it in a sentence.” He smirks here, and it’s so Derek-like that she wants to ask if maybe they’ve been teaching each other a thing or two. “Therefore, it’s a word.”
“I suppose next you’ll be telling me that the planets revolve around the sun because you tell them to?”
He raises his eyebrows. “How’d you know?”
She comes close to shoving him, but reminds herself that he isn’t Derek, so she shouldn’t be doing Derek-like things with him - and yes, before you ask, there are some things Casey considers only useable on Derek, and yes, that is a little bit like love, but it isn’t so there. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing leather. “It was an unfortunate guess. Now go away; I need to get to class.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
“No, but your ego is. It’s taking up the whole hallway. So, you know, leave.”
He doesn’t take the hint and ends up making her ten minutes later for AP English, but it’s not like she’s complaining anyways.
-- --- --
“Yo, Spacey. I need your help.”
She very nearly falls out of her chair. “What?”
His toes touch her ankle as he stretches out on the side of her bed. “I need your help. Sally went batshit on me today for not confessing my feelings again or some shit, and now I need to make it up to her.”
“… Yeah, I am so not helping you with that.”
He nearly pouts - she can see it in the way his lip shifts and his eyes narrow. “C’mon, Case.”
She sighs and says yes, because Casey McDonald, as strong and independent as she may be, crumbles when faced with her one weakness.
(And in case you didn’t know, his name is Derek.)
-- --- --
“C’mon, Case.”
She almost throws her coffee at him. “Don’t call me Case.”
His eyebrows rise. She scowls out the subway window. “What’s your problem, princess? That one hundred percent you got on the French test not high enough for you?”
“Truman,” she hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I am not in the mood for you right now, so if you’d kindly just jump off a bridge and die that’d be great.”
He leans back in the seat next to her and half-smiles with his dark eyes and his long lashes and that horrible, terrible Derek-look he’s adapted so well. “Sorry, babe, but I plan on sticking around for a while longer.”
-- --- --
There is a reason Casey can’t stand Truman. He is smart, cunning, manipulative, egotistical, cocky, overbearing, obsessive, annoying, stubborn and sarcastic; all the things she’ll has come to realize she’ll never have.
Not in herself, per say, because God, she never wants to be like Truman, but in the guy she’ll hold hands with and date and make watch bad movies with her on Friday nights.
Basically: Truman makes her see Derek, think about Derek, and sometimes almost is Derek.
(except he’s not and she hates him for it.)
-- --- --
Here’s the thing:
Casey’s standards have always been impossibly high, and only one person has ever managed to compare to what she’s wanted - in all the wrong ways, of course - and that person isn’t Truman. But some days, she wishes it were.
-- --- --
“So, I hear you had a dream about me.”
And somewhere in the span of that conversation she kisses him and brushes it off because he’s a boy and he’s an idiot and, yeah, okay, she’ll admit it, he’s not Derek.
But, God, if she hadn’t spent the better part of a year and a half fantasizing about Derek’s hands on her waist and in her hair, she’s pretty sure that kiss and the warmth of his body would’ve sent her to the moon and back.
-- --- --
Casey doesn’t do clichés.
(There’s a fine line between love and hate.)
Too bad she’s living one.
Fandom: Life With Derek
Character/Pairing: Casey/Truman, onesided-Casey/Derek.
Prompt: anything, honestly. the whole hate!love between them is so EPIC so something related to that of course. - ironside
Rating: T
Notes: I don't even know what the hell this is. o_o i screwed with the timeline a lot. ZANISHA I AM SO SORRY.
If there’s one thing Casey has prided herself in, it’s never living by clichés. She thinks they’re silly - little almost-proverbs people make up so their problems seem more unbearable. Casey faces her problems head-on and never backs down, never tries to take the easy way out.
Except when it comes to Derek - and therefore, by a thin line of Casey-logic no one but her can understand, Truman.
God, she really hates Truman. From his laugh to his smarmy smile, to the way he lets his fingers brush her hip in the hallway, right down to how he eats his lunch. Everything about him sets off fuses she didn’t know she had, and makes her skin tingle and flush out of rage (or something else).
The only other person who’s ever gotten under her skin by simply breathing is Derek, and that, Casey thinks, is where the problem lies.
Truman and Derek are exactly alike. Cocky, confident, smooth-talking jerks who get a kick out of tormenting her.
There is a fine line between love and hate, they say.
Good thing Casey never listens.
-- --- --
The thing is, before Truman, Derek was her only source of witty rapport, and now that he’s whipped and panting after Sally (notjealousnotjealousnotjealous) Casey thinks it’s kind of pathetic that her only other form of mental stimulation is, well, Truman.
“So, are you still doing the whole “One Semester of Single-ism” thing?”
She sighs, and counts backwards from ten. “Single-ism isn’t a word, idiot.”
“Of course it is. I used it in a sentence.” He smirks here, and it’s so Derek-like that she wants to ask if maybe they’ve been teaching each other a thing or two. “Therefore, it’s a word.”
“I suppose next you’ll be telling me that the planets revolve around the sun because you tell them to?”
He raises his eyebrows. “How’d you know?”
She comes close to shoving him, but reminds herself that he isn’t Derek, so she shouldn’t be doing Derek-like things with him - and yes, before you ask, there are some things Casey considers only useable on Derek, and yes, that is a little bit like love, but it isn’t so there. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing leather. “It was an unfortunate guess. Now go away; I need to get to class.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
“No, but your ego is. It’s taking up the whole hallway. So, you know, leave.”
He doesn’t take the hint and ends up making her ten minutes later for AP English, but it’s not like she’s complaining anyways.
-- --- --
“Yo, Spacey. I need your help.”
She very nearly falls out of her chair. “What?”
His toes touch her ankle as he stretches out on the side of her bed. “I need your help. Sally went batshit on me today for not confessing my feelings again or some shit, and now I need to make it up to her.”
“… Yeah, I am so not helping you with that.”
He nearly pouts - she can see it in the way his lip shifts and his eyes narrow. “C’mon, Case.”
She sighs and says yes, because Casey McDonald, as strong and independent as she may be, crumbles when faced with her one weakness.
(And in case you didn’t know, his name is Derek.)
-- --- --
“C’mon, Case.”
She almost throws her coffee at him. “Don’t call me Case.”
His eyebrows rise. She scowls out the subway window. “What’s your problem, princess? That one hundred percent you got on the French test not high enough for you?”
“Truman,” she hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I am not in the mood for you right now, so if you’d kindly just jump off a bridge and die that’d be great.”
He leans back in the seat next to her and half-smiles with his dark eyes and his long lashes and that horrible, terrible Derek-look he’s adapted so well. “Sorry, babe, but I plan on sticking around for a while longer.”
-- --- --
There is a reason Casey can’t stand Truman. He is smart, cunning, manipulative, egotistical, cocky, overbearing, obsessive, annoying, stubborn and sarcastic; all the things she’ll has come to realize she’ll never have.
Not in herself, per say, because God, she never wants to be like Truman, but in the guy she’ll hold hands with and date and make watch bad movies with her on Friday nights.
Basically: Truman makes her see Derek, think about Derek, and sometimes almost is Derek.
(except he’s not and she hates him for it.)
-- --- --
Here’s the thing:
Casey’s standards have always been impossibly high, and only one person has ever managed to compare to what she’s wanted - in all the wrong ways, of course - and that person isn’t Truman. But some days, she wishes it were.
-- --- --
“So, I hear you had a dream about me.”
And somewhere in the span of that conversation she kisses him and brushes it off because he’s a boy and he’s an idiot and, yeah, okay, she’ll admit it, he’s not Derek.
But, God, if she hadn’t spent the better part of a year and a half fantasizing about Derek’s hands on her waist and in her hair, she’s pretty sure that kiss and the warmth of his body would’ve sent her to the moon and back.
-- --- --
Casey doesn’t do clichés.
(There’s a fine line between love and hate.)
Too bad she’s living one.