Entry 06: For Better or For Worse (1/?)
Title: For Better or for Worse
Entry Number: 06
Author: mihnn
Fandom: Life With Derek
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance, Humour
Spoiler Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1027
Oh yeah! Just before the world imploded and zombies swarmed around earth with machine guns, killing all of the human race, a weird thing did happen.
He kissed Casey.
Yeah.
Ladies and gentleman, the apocalypse!
*
"I think you're stalking me."
He raises his eyebrow at her as he sips at his coffee leisurely. He does this sometimes, sipping. He finds it surprisingly fun when he makes the noise parents hate and children love. And if he was blatantly honest with himself, there was someone else who he loves to annoy with this childhood trait. Her name starts with 'C' and ends with 'acey'.
"I would believe that if I hadn't seen you duck behind the tree there. What did you do? Count to twenty five to make sure that you looked 'casual' enough before you came in?"
She sputters a bit, and 'awww' she reminds him of that cat playing a piano on You tube. "I was not -I repeat not counting 'till twenty five." She clears her throat. "It was only 'till fifteen," she whispers (coughs) or mumbles into her hand not at all gracefully.
"Right." And he takes another sip. Why? Because he can.
She stiffens; her face scrunching up like she's about to say something that she really doesn't want to say, and the alarm bell to goes off. "I-"
He coughs (fake sneezes). "Well, I'm allergic. Gotta scat." He makes a barely (very) grand move to get up off the chair, when she all out panics. And with the panic comes grabbing onto his new, faded to perfection leather jacket.
"Allergic? To what?" She pinches his precious leather, and he thinks he might faint from the pain his apparel is suffering from.
"To excessive Casey-ness? You wouldn't understand, you're immune." He shrugs her off.
"But-"
"Ba-bye." And he turns to walk away. But of course he just had to forget that he was dealing with a relentless pixie.
"De-rek. Wait up."
His strides do not slow down. Consciously, anyway. "I would..." He looks at her thoughtfully. "But I don't wanna."
"But we have to discuss this."
"Discuss what?"
"This." She jumps over what looks like gum on the sidewalk. How positively anti-green.
"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"
"I just did."
"You did? When?"
"Fifteen years ago. When did you think, Numbskull? Fifteen seconds ago."
He snaps his fingers in frustration. "Damn it! Times like this, don't you just hate the fact that I've now got a goldfish memory?"
"Is it selective by any chance?"
He smirks. "Why Casey, however did you guess?"
"Call it a lucky guess," she says, her smile strained.
"Yeah," He cringes. "I can't imagine you getting lucky with anything."
"Shows how much you know." She mumbles.
He shoots her a wary glance. "What?"
"Nothing."
They continue to walk in silence. His steps confident and leisurely. Hers, quick in her heels, trying to keep up alongside him. "You're still walking with me." That was the best straight forward hint he could give her.
She juts out her chin and quickens her pace, the clicking of her heels annoying him. "Of couse. We still need to talk."
"We don't need to talk about anything."
"Of course you think that," she says cheerfully. And somehow the Stepford wife imitation creeps the hell out of him. "A person like you who has avoided conflict instead of facing any problems head on, is bound to not talk about anything remotely important. But, if we are to work on our relationshi-"
"Whoa!" His legs stop. His body stops. His brain stops. "What?"
"I said that since you always avoid conflicts-"
"Not that part. After."
She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully. "The relationship?"
He closes his eyes in an effort not to take the two steps forward and strangle her. "What relationship?"
"Our relationship." And the thing is, she's grinning widely.
His jaw drops and he tries to form a total of twenty words within the span of ten seconds before his voice finally battles out from his throat. "Our what?"
Her grin widens, and he briefly wondered if the devil wears pink. "I understand that you're not emotionally ready for an adult relationship yet. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for whatever you may need. If you need understanding, guidance or anything else, I will gladly help you out while playing the role of your girlfriend."
Too late. He's hyperventilating. And his 'girlfriend' had the foresight to provide him with a brown paper bag while she smiles widely. He very nearly inches closer to her so he could submerge her head under the empty bag, only to hold on tight and block the airways.
"You know," she says looking around at the people staring at the handsome (he's not egotistical or anything) guy breathing heavily into a paper bag; with a wild, crazy, panic look in his eyes, "some might think you're over reacting or something."
He glares at her over the rim of the brown paper bag.
"But not me," she says grinning widely. "And that's because I understand you. The fact that we're siblings should help with our budding relationship."
Mr. Tall, good looking and grey-haired who's walking behind his crazy nut of a step-sister, pauses to eye them in shock. Derek lowers the bag to give him a full-fledged glare. "Keep walking, Grandpa." And because he didn't want any strangers to know that, yes, he was related to a crazy chick, he pulls her away from the crowd, and into a dark alley. "I'll try putting this into words you can understand. You," he points at her, "are crazy." Aiming his index finger at his forehead, he twirls it. "Me," he points at himself, "not crazy, so not your boyfriend? Capiche?"
Casey stares at him with a blank expression that's borderline creepy, before she grins widely. "Of course. I understand. You're emotionally not ready."
"What? No. I-"
"I get that. But we can work on that later," she says patting down his chest comfortingly. "See you tomorrow," she chirps happily before twirling around and practically skipping away.
What the hell just happened?
Entry Number: 06
Author: mihnn
Fandom: Life With Derek
Rating: PG13
Genre: Romance, Humour
Spoiler Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1027
Oh yeah! Just before the world imploded and zombies swarmed around earth with machine guns, killing all of the human race, a weird thing did happen.
He kissed Casey.
Yeah.
Ladies and gentleman, the apocalypse!
*
"I think you're stalking me."
He raises his eyebrow at her as he sips at his coffee leisurely. He does this sometimes, sipping. He finds it surprisingly fun when he makes the noise parents hate and children love. And if he was blatantly honest with himself, there was someone else who he loves to annoy with this childhood trait. Her name starts with 'C' and ends with 'acey'.
"I would believe that if I hadn't seen you duck behind the tree there. What did you do? Count to twenty five to make sure that you looked 'casual' enough before you came in?"
She sputters a bit, and 'awww' she reminds him of that cat playing a piano on You tube. "I was not -I repeat not counting 'till twenty five." She clears her throat. "It was only 'till fifteen," she whispers (coughs) or mumbles into her hand not at all gracefully.
"Right." And he takes another sip. Why? Because he can.
She stiffens; her face scrunching up like she's about to say something that she really doesn't want to say, and the alarm bell to goes off. "I-"
He coughs (fake sneezes). "Well, I'm allergic. Gotta scat." He makes a barely (very) grand move to get up off the chair, when she all out panics. And with the panic comes grabbing onto his new, faded to perfection leather jacket.
"Allergic? To what?" She pinches his precious leather, and he thinks he might faint from the pain his apparel is suffering from.
"To excessive Casey-ness? You wouldn't understand, you're immune." He shrugs her off.
"But-"
"Ba-bye." And he turns to walk away. But of course he just had to forget that he was dealing with a relentless pixie.
"De-rek. Wait up."
His strides do not slow down. Consciously, anyway. "I would..." He looks at her thoughtfully. "But I don't wanna."
"But we have to discuss this."
"Discuss what?"
"This." She jumps over what looks like gum on the sidewalk. How positively anti-green.
"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"
"I just did."
"You did? When?"
"Fifteen years ago. When did you think, Numbskull? Fifteen seconds ago."
He snaps his fingers in frustration. "Damn it! Times like this, don't you just hate the fact that I've now got a goldfish memory?"
"Is it selective by any chance?"
He smirks. "Why Casey, however did you guess?"
"Call it a lucky guess," she says, her smile strained.
"Yeah," He cringes. "I can't imagine you getting lucky with anything."
"Shows how much you know." She mumbles.
He shoots her a wary glance. "What?"
"Nothing."
They continue to walk in silence. His steps confident and leisurely. Hers, quick in her heels, trying to keep up alongside him. "You're still walking with me." That was the best straight forward hint he could give her.
She juts out her chin and quickens her pace, the clicking of her heels annoying him. "Of couse. We still need to talk."
"We don't need to talk about anything."
"Of course you think that," she says cheerfully. And somehow the Stepford wife imitation creeps the hell out of him. "A person like you who has avoided conflict instead of facing any problems head on, is bound to not talk about anything remotely important. But, if we are to work on our relationshi-"
"Whoa!" His legs stop. His body stops. His brain stops. "What?"
"I said that since you always avoid conflicts-"
"Not that part. After."
She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully. "The relationship?"
He closes his eyes in an effort not to take the two steps forward and strangle her. "What relationship?"
"Our relationship." And the thing is, she's grinning widely.
His jaw drops and he tries to form a total of twenty words within the span of ten seconds before his voice finally battles out from his throat. "Our what?"
Her grin widens, and he briefly wondered if the devil wears pink. "I understand that you're not emotionally ready for an adult relationship yet. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for whatever you may need. If you need understanding, guidance or anything else, I will gladly help you out while playing the role of your girlfriend."
Too late. He's hyperventilating. And his 'girlfriend' had the foresight to provide him with a brown paper bag while she smiles widely. He very nearly inches closer to her so he could submerge her head under the empty bag, only to hold on tight and block the airways.
"You know," she says looking around at the people staring at the handsome (he's not egotistical or anything) guy breathing heavily into a paper bag; with a wild, crazy, panic look in his eyes, "some might think you're over reacting or something."
He glares at her over the rim of the brown paper bag.
"But not me," she says grinning widely. "And that's because I understand you. The fact that we're siblings should help with our budding relationship."
Mr. Tall, good looking and grey-haired who's walking behind his crazy nut of a step-sister, pauses to eye them in shock. Derek lowers the bag to give him a full-fledged glare. "Keep walking, Grandpa." And because he didn't want any strangers to know that, yes, he was related to a crazy chick, he pulls her away from the crowd, and into a dark alley. "I'll try putting this into words you can understand. You," he points at her, "are crazy." Aiming his index finger at his forehead, he twirls it. "Me," he points at himself, "not crazy, so not your boyfriend? Capiche?"
Casey stares at him with a blank expression that's borderline creepy, before she grins widely. "Of course. I understand. You're emotionally not ready."
"What? No. I-"
"I get that. But we can work on that later," she says patting down his chest comfortingly. "See you tomorrow," she chirps happily before twirling around and practically skipping away.
What the hell just happened?