Not-So-Classic Prince - NC17 - Casey/Trevor - OneShot
Title: Not-So-Classic-Prince
Category: Life With Derek
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Trevor/Casey
Word Count: 6,361
Summary: Princess met Prince? Not really. But girl fell in love with boy? Very much.
Not-So-Classic Prince
1/1
Casey MacDonald - the proverbial good girl - wasn't quite as pristine as most made her out to be. Sure, she was a keener, much as she tried not to be, and she was peppy and high strung and she probably enjoyed cleaning far too much. But there were parts of her that nobody knew; not even Emily. Her relationships had always been on the safe side, really. First, there was Sam. Probably one of the sweetest and most agreeable boys she'd ever known. She still wondered, to this day, why he put up with her and her overdramatic behavior. But, for a time, she had really cared for him and in his own way, he'd helped her grow. Sometimes, she couldn't help but think that things might've been better off for her if they'd just stayed together. But they didn't and eventually, she dated others.
Again, not the greatest of boys. Scott - or Snot as he was more aptly called - who hurt her before they'd gotten very far in the first place. What she hated most in that too-short-to-even-be-called-a-relationship was that she hadn't realized for herself what a creep he was. He was handsome and charming and he took a liking to her, so she felt special and pretty and she overlooked the fact that Marti, a girl who was abnormally knowledgeable, had so keenly noticed he wasn't so great after all. Thanks to her ever-annoying step-brother, this was thankfully brought to her attention though, and she didn't have to get to know or like him even more before he could really hurt her.
And then came Max... Football captain, handsome, strong and... well, not the brightest of men she'd known. But... He made up that perfection that she'd always been searching for. She became a cheerleader and he was popular and good looking and played football (which just so happened to make him the mortal enemy of her mortal enemy - her stepbrother). So obviously she was dating Max for not so genuine reasons, although it hadn't started out that way. He made her feel pretty and good and sometimes, all she had to do was see his smile and she felt like she was floating on cloud nine. But it just so happened that maybe she wanted that perfection a little too much...
Which is why, when everything just sort of happened with a guy that was very much out of her norm, it sort of made poetic sense.
Once upon a time, she envisioned herself as the princess type (even if she hated how Derek called her princess - more because it was mocking than anything). But she thought of being that beautiful woman that was sought after by the handsome and ever-so-charming princes of the world. It just so happened that every prince she attached herself usually turned out to be more of a toad. And then she met someone who wasn't really a prince - not in the sense that most would expect. He wasn't classically good looking and he wasn't refined; he didn't treat her like a fragile china doll that he had to carefully watch his step around. Instead, he treated her like a real person, like how he expected to be treated back.
When Casey MacDonald actually fell in love, nobody was more surprised that her. Some of her most incredible firsts' were with her not-so-classic Prince. But the one that changed it all was the night he laid her down on his bed, the room dark, lit only with black candles that bounced off the sheer blood red curtains and gave the room a romantic glow. During their quasi-relationship that they hadn't really defined, to each other or anybody else, he'd always acted like a regular person. He didn't go out of his way to say overly cheesy lines or act chivalrous when it wasn't warranted. He held the door open for her because it was natural to him, not because he thought she expected it. He gave her his jacket when she was cold because, well, she was cold and he had a jacket. Common courtesy, really. He didn't proclaim anything and he didn't jump up to fight for her honor; although one dark glare from him in Derek's direction usually had her stepbrother backing off. She found it rather amusing that Derek was actually a little intimidated by her boyfriend.
In any case, that night when she laid back on the black sheets, she finally felt all those treasured and cherished, needed and wanted, loved and entranced feelings that she read about in books and saw in movies. It didn't take him bending down on his knees and screaming to the world that he was her love and she was his. He wasn't like that. He didn't have to act jealous and protective to prove that she mattered; just his hand on the small of her back when they walked together or his fingers finding hers naturally made her feel like he cared and he was there and he wouldn't let anything happen.
That night, things became so clear for her.
It had been like any other night they hung out together, nothing really going into that area where things weren't quite black or white. They'd kissed, they'd made out, they went on dates, although neither of them really called them that aloud. Sometimes, she'd cuddle up to him while he watched TV and she'd fall asleep in his arms. Or he'd be reading a book on his bed when she came over some evenings, on Law or some other intense subject that anybody who looked at him would expect him to be interested in, and she'd let him read, curling up on his bed and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie while he absently played with her hair, his book perched against one of his upturned legs. His parents were surprised when he brought her home, held her hand and just introduced her as Casey. They stared at her a long moment, as if they knew the name but expected another face to match it. But all they got (no matter how many times they blinked) was the rather prepily dressed Casey MacDonald, overachiever and former-cheerleader. She grinned widely, held out a hand to shake each of theirs and promptly gave off the air of the perfect girlfriend, which they were still stunned to find dating their son.
Her parents weren't so surprised, sure they were a little when he showed back up and Derek had been sure to say he could've done better, but the merged MacDonald's and Venturi's had grown to like him despite his not so accepted look and lack of prince-attributes that often came with anybody she dated. They were happy to have him around and though she never stated outright that they were dating, her family assumed that was the idea and she never really corrected them. Because he didn't either, she thought maybe, just maybe, they were "something."
After all, she didn't just kiss or make out or... well, fall in love with just anybody.
His parents were out; a double date with a couple from work. They trusted their son, more than her parents ever would've trusted them at her home, she knew. It wasn't so unusual though. They often left them their alone. Just like usual, the door closed and they went upstairs, laid down on the bed for awhile while he put a CD in and sat down next to her.
"This has been going on for awhile, Casey," he said in his deep voice. He looked down at her with brown eyes she'd grown to love staring into, lined in deep black that made them seem harsher, stronger, more intense.
"And what is... this?" she asked him, a little uncertain to finally put the question out. She lifted a brow, hoping she didn't look quite as worried as she felt.
He sighed, lifting a dark brow back. "That's kind of what I was asking," he admitted, smiling slightly.
"Oh." She nodded, feeling her cheeks blush. "Well, I was kind of, sort of, maybe, hoping that... Um, it could be... well..." Her eyes fell, teeth chewing her lip. What did she hope? Wasn't it obvious? "I mean... I don't know how you feel about labels. Personally, I didn't think I'd like them. But given my background, I find I might need them a little," she began to babble, brows knitting. "Which is probably why I didn't want to label us at first. I mean... I liked just being with you, however that was... And I didn't want us, whatever us are, to turn out like before. But I guess that sort of implies that I'd be your... And you'd be my..."
"Casey?" He looked amused and she felt her blush deepen. "Whatever we are, I think the lack of labeling might've ended sometime around the three month mark..."
She licked her lips. "It's been seven... And two weeks... And four days... Well, unless you don't count those first few days because they were really sort of-"
He cut her off with a kiss, his lips slanting across hers hotly. She felt her back arch, her fingers tightening around the sheet beneath her and her toes curling. He wasn't her first kiss, but he was definitely the first guy to kiss her breathless; until she felt like she could give up air and die happy so long as his mouth never left hers. It wasn't logical, which is why it made so much sense. Casey was all logic and if he could strip that from her and not make her regret it later, then he was beyond anyone before him. Now that they had a definition, it seemed things progressed farther than either had really planned for. Not that she was complaining; more than that, it felt like it was the right move for them, like it was time for them and her. Just another first that she hoped would be one of many with him.
The words welled tight in her throat as he was dragging her jeans down her hips as they swayed side to side to try and help shuffle the denim away. As each inch of her tanned dancer legs were revealed, he bent his head to kiss them, back and forth his soft lips lingering against her skin. Her hand reached out, palm sliding over dark, close-cropped hair that felt nice against her hand. She was nervous, but it seemed like each kiss of his - on the inside of her thighs, the back of her knees, down her calves, to both her ankles - she became more and more relaxed. The jeans were tossed away and she laid there, knees up, her plain white panties seemingly like an unfit choice for this moment. Why couldn't she think of something sexier? Why hadn't she shopped for lingerie or something lacy like Kendra or Emily or pretty much every other girly girl in the world would own?
He didn't seem put-off by her choice in underwear however, instead he leaned between her legs and traced back and forth along the band of her panties, gliding across her stomach with his forefinger. She swallowed tightly, staring at him as his mouth quirked on one side with a half-smile. His hand slid up, caught the end of her pink t-shirt and raised it higher and higher slowly, the black leather bracelets on either of his wrists lightly scraping against her skin. His mouth followed; lips and tongue and teeth laving at her stomach as it tightened and twisted and the butterflies inside ran wild. He stopped when he reached the bottom of her breasts, hidden away in her non-descript bra. He looked up at her, a question in his dark eyes. She shakily nodded, mostly sure. Her breath was coming out heavier and quicker but she chalked it all up to anticipation. It was perfectly normal to feel fear, really. They'd made out (a lot) and he'd touched her and kissed her in places that she never let any other guy near, but this was all in and that was a little scary for her. For some reason she'd always thought it wouldn't be until she was married, but then it wasn't so realistic in this day and age and really, it wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea of sex before marriage, so long as it was between responsible people who loved each other.
Which is when it really hit her. She was letting him go places she'd always expected to let her husband, and only her husband to go, and that's not really what scared her. It was just the idea of giving up control that worried her, not that it'd be with him. She was ready for this and happy that it was him who now lifted her shirt higher, revealing the top of her breasts cupped comfortably and hidden away from his eyes. She lifted her back, let her shirt be stripped away entirely. Didn't even think to look where it went, to wonder if it would be wrinkled later when she found it. It didn't matter.
She was too preoccupied with his mouth caressing the curves of her breasts, his forehead brushing against her chest, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. His body felt heavy against hers, but a nice kind of heavy, as if it was meant to lie there, on top of her, pressed against all of her revealed curves and usually hidden appendages. His hands slid up from her hips, fingers rough but soft (somehow) and tickled her ribs for just a moment, enough to get a smile and a giggle out of her, relieving some of the stress from the situation, enough to make her hands lift toward him. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck, scratching lightly like she often did when he was half asleep, head in her lap, barely watching TV or reading his book any longer. She spread her fingers out against his shoulder blades, covered by his dark hoodie. She bunched up the thick fabric beneath her hand until it was balled in her fist and then she tugged it up and over his head. He sat up from where he'd been lightly nipping the soft flesh of her right breast and pulled an arm out from each sleeve before throwing his hoodie away. A second later, he'd pulled his t-shirt up and off too before he was leaning back over her.
Her breath caught in her throat. She'd felt and touched and kissed the majority of his body but it still amazed her just how nicely it was shaped. He wasn't big and bulky with muscle like Max had been and he wasn't thin and rather sinewy like Sam was, he was somewhere in the middle. Defined but not overly so; she could feel the strength in his arms by touch alone, the way they flexed beneath her fingers. She loved how his back felt when her fingers clutched to it while they rolled across the couch, his head ducked into her shoulder, mouth attached diligently to her neck. There was a dark trail of course hairs that led from his navel, hidden beneath his black jeans. She reached out rather hesitantly, ran a finger down the line, her long nail making him hiss lowly from the intimate touch. She looked up at him, realized then that he wasn't completely unmoved by what was happening. He was breathing just as heavily, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed.
"I'm a little..."
"Me too," he agreed, nodding.
She chewed her lip. "But I still want to... Um..."
There was that half-smile again. "Me too."
"Okay... Then we'll just..." She nodded. "Okay." She leaned up, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and brought him closer until their lips met once more and he stole her breath just like every time before. He lowered until he was on top of her once more, skin against skin and she gasped into his mouth, his tongue reaching for hers and tangling. She could feel his jeans against the inside of her thighs, rough against her skin, and for some reason that was exciting for her. She felt bad and good and entirely absorbed by him. They rolled across the bed until she was straddling him, her hands around his shoulders, her mouth detached from his to wander down his chest, tongue and teeth playing with each of his nipples before falling lower, tracing the indents of his abdomen, teasing faint outline of muscles. She nibbled the trail that had caught her eyes and heard him groan, feeling him squirm beneath her as her hands found the button of his jeans and undid it easily, lowering the zipper slowly. Her breathing became sporadic as she tugged at his jeans until they were gone and he was left in nothing but his boxers, which did nothing to hide the large bulge beneath them. She swallowed tightly, staring at it a moment.
"Casey?"
He sounded worried and she looked up, smiling shakily before she crawled back up his body, being sure to let hers slid against him, feeling his hard length against her breasts and her stomach and then fit comfortably between the juncture of her thighs. He moaned, head falling back, breath coming in sharp pants. She kissed his chin, up his cheek and let her lips linger against his temple for a moment. His hands wrapped around her hips and slid up her back, teasing the line of her spine lightly, making her body bend like a taut bow. His fingers unsnapped her bra and she felt the weight of breasts pull it apart. He slid each strap down her shoulders and the cups fell against his chest as she lifted one arm at a time until she was entirely revealed. She felt insecure for just a moment but then his hand was cupping one of her breasts, chipped black nail polish somehow comforting as he kneaded at her flesh, thumb stroking back and forth against her pebbled pink nipple.
He wiggled down the bed a bit, bent his head to kiss the top of her other breast and trailed lower before flicking her nipple with his tongue and then enveloping it in his mouth. She gasped, eyes falling closed tightly as she arched into the heat of his mouth. She felt goosebumps spread across her skin, from head to toe, making her shiver with nothing but excitement and warmth. She rocked her hips against him, more out of instinct than anything, and felt him rub against her. With the stroke of his tongue and his thumb against her nipples, combined with the hard bulge pressed against her through her panties, she was wet quickly and her body was shaking with anticipation of more.
She ran a hand down his head, kneading the back of his neck and playing with the short hairs. When he detached from her breast and kissed upward, she let her body fall against him, her arms no longer strong enough to hold her up. She ran her hands up and down his side, playing with the band of his boxers hesitantly before running her nails over his stomach. He rolled them over until she was splayed beneath him once more, staring up into his eyes, legs spread, his weight against her. He kissed her, lightly, softly, rather gentle compared to all those air stealing kisses before and at the exact moment, she felt him tug her panties away. She didn't think to stop him, didn't panic, just kept her eyes locked on his as he delicately brushed his lips against hers, over and over again.
With hers shed, she followed suit and reached for either side of his boxers, pushing them lower and lower until they too were gone. She didn't break her gaze from his, despite the fact that she really wanted to. Just a peek; just to estimate whether what she felt was large really was. Just to make sure she wasn't about to get herself into something "bigger than she could handle." His hand cupped her cheek and she was breathless not from any kiss but from the look in his eyes as he did it. His thumb brushed back and forth beneath her eye softly and while she was distracted by this genuine loving touch, she didn't register what his other hand was doing until her neck arched and her body spasmed, feeling his fingers probing her folds, stroking up and down, making her breath catch and her thighs clamp around him. He circled her clit with his forefinger, the others rubbing her all over before sliding into her just a little. She whimpered, biting down on her lip, a little fearfully.
His touch felt incredible and yet a little heavy at the same time. But the stroke of his fingers was nice, distracting and the feel of his lips against her chin and down her neck made her mind pinpoint only on the good, focusing more on how her body tingled and shivered in all the good places. How her breasts tightened and her toes curled; the butterflies were working up a good kind of flurry in her stomach and his mouth fell to her breasts once more, teasing her with kisses all around but never on her nipple like she so desperately wanted. His hand still cupped her face, thumb running up and down the side of her nose as if tracing it, remembering it, taking a mental picture of how she looked by touch alone. It fell to run back and forth along her bottom lip, slipping inside when she gasped. Her tongue reached for it, licked it briefly and he ran it across her lips once more, wetting them. His fingers were running along her slit more knowingly now, relishing in the knowledge of what made her twitch and jerk and cry out his name. He flicked her clit and massaged her folds and in one incredible moment, she broke, sobbing with joy and exhilaration as she came in his hand, her body lifting from the bed, tightening and flushing and begging for more while simultaneously satisfied in a way she hadn't expected from fingers alone. But then was he was kissing her again and she decided it was because they were his fingers that it felt so good.
He said her name into her mouth, breathy and wanting and desperate and it made her feel incredible in that moment, as if she really was a Princess and she had all the power and knowledge and beauty a woman could possess. She wrapped a hand around his neck, the other one pressing into his back, urging him closer. She was freed of inhibition in that moment, still reeling from her orgasm and she suckled his lower lip into her mouth before whispering, "Now. I want you. Now, please."
He caught her in a kiss, his nose brushing against hers and with a little fumbling, a condom was pulled on and he was sliding inside of her, slow and careful and she was chewing her lip in hopes that she didn't cry out in pain. It wasn't quite as bad as she'd first expected, but it was tight and a little uncomfortable and she wouldn't let him move for a full minute, despite how agonized he looked. But he didn't fight her, he just laid there, forehead against her breast, breath panting, fingers wrapped tight around her shoulders. "O-Okay," she finally said, nodding. She wouldn't be a coward; she'd come this far and she wanted more; it was bound to get better.
He looked at her, not quite certain but then he slid a little more in and she was rather surprised at how full she felt; completed. One of his hands found hers, held it against the pillow, their fingers entwined and as he drew out nearly entirely before burying himself inside her once more, all she could think was that she'd lost her virginity to Straylight's Existentialism on Prom Night, which wasn't really the song she'd expected it to happen to. But then, if she had her so-called ‘perfect' first time as it was all planned out it probably would've been to the cheesiest love song ever, in a bed covered in rose petals, with her new husband while he cried because he was just so happy to have her.
In all honesty, she was incredibly happy that the man she was with now was very much not crying.
There are moments when,
When I know it and
The world revolves around us,
And we're keeping it,
Keep it all going,
This delicate balance,
Vulnerable all knowing
He kissed her; her mouth, her shoulders, her neck and arms and breasts. Her fingertips even, as he lifted her hand to his mouth while he slowed in his thrusts inside her. Sweaty and worked up, he pressed his lips to each of her fingers and the inside of her palm, down to her wrist before he held the back of her hand against his cheek and groaned her name, holding tight to her hip while he sped up once more. Her legs wrapped tight around him, thighs shaking, heart ready to burst out of her chest. Her hair was in tangled around her, damp and sticking to both her and the dark pillow beneath her. Her hand slid up his slick back, feeling it flex with each deep movement inside of her. Her fingers wrapped around the black leather collar on his neck and for some reason that was comforting whenever her eyes closed, as if she didn't need to see him, but she could feel and know it was him. Not that it could ever really be anyone else, or that she even wanted it to be. She was finally happy in a relationship and it didn't need perfection or a knight in shining armor.
She could barely breathe; it seemed like each time she inhaled, she was forcing it out just as it filled her lungs. Her hips were lifting and falling in rhythm with his, her body straining for those heights, no longer feeling any pain, instead searching for each stroke that would fill that empty space inside of her. He felt so good, pressed inside her, hugged tight by her inner walls.
She knew they weren't the most expected couple, by far. Once upon a time, he'd been the focus of a bet between her and Casey, which led to her meeting a boy she hadn't expected to like but did. Except back then, he wanted someone more like Emily, which hadn't worked out and left her a little deflated. But now, this had nothing to do with bets and she'd grown up a lot since being that inexperienced girl who hadn't thought it through, hadn't yet learned a valuable lesson. But she knew him now, had known him better than anybody else after more than seven months in their unnamed relationship where he'd become the center of her attention in an all-consuming way. Princess met Prince? Not really. But girl fell in love with boy? Very much.
She could feel it building up inside of her and if the way his movements quickened and fell out of sync, he too was approaching the precipice. She reached up with one hand to cup his face and swiped at the sweat across his brow. His eyeliner had smudged, dark marks beneath his eyes and smeared across his cheeks. For some reason, that was entirely beautiful. She leaned up, kissed one of his black marked eyes and panted against his eyebrow as his fingers slid beneath them and stroked her clit in tandem with his deep thrusts. His fingers tightened with hers against the pillow and she sucked in breath after short breath until she felt everything implode into a million fragments that buried themselves inside of her and made her every fiber sing and dance and scream with ecstasy. To match her insides, she let out a long, pleasured moan that mixed with his in the air between them. His forehead found hers and their lips brushed against each other as they panted for air. His hips still jerked against her, his length buried inside of her as she clenched and tightened around him while her body slowly came back down to earth.
He kissed her, just a peck before they were both desperately dragging in air, and then another peck and another until he let his head fall to her shoulder and they both tried to find their bearings once more. Some kind of grounding in a world where she still felt tilted and off balance and entirely fantastic with that. He slid lower down her body, his ear against her breast and while she was still coming down from her high, he seemed entirely fascinated with drawing shapes and such on her breast with his finger, running all around her nipple and drawing or writing or something while she tried not to get turned on by his touch. Her legs throbbed pleasurably with an ache that she knew would probably feel more than a little uncomfortable come morning, but she could care less for now.
She closed her eyes, lips curved in a sated smile and one of her hands reached for the leather collar around his neck once more, tracing back and forth along his neck absently. He was heavy and she was exhausted, but she didn't want him to move, she liked him right where he was, comfortably laid out between her legs, his hair tickling her skin, his fingers still moving against her, his breath skittering over her chest. "I love you," he said, deep and certain, without a trace of fear or insecurity. She envied that.
If it were anybody else, she would wonder if it'd been fake or if he meant it. She'd spend hours going over the tone of his voice, whether it was just because they'd had sex or if he really did mean those big three words. But this was him and somehow she just knew. She didn't question it or fear that it was a side effect of losing their virginity to each other. Instead, she replied, "I love you, too," and she was surprised how genuine and easy it was to say. To him, anyway.
He rolled them over, relieving her of his weight and she laid on top of him, bare skin to bare skin, her head comfortable beneath his chin, his fingers stroking up and down her back, tracing the small just above her butt. He tossed his sheet over them and she let her eyes fall closed, inhaled the moment and put it away in the brimming file cabinet drawer of her organized mind; the one labeled "Trevor - First Real Love." She kissed his chest and let out a soft sigh before she let herself fall asleep to the touch of his fingers and the thump of his heart.
Sing like you think no one's listening,
You would kill for this,
Just a little bit,
Just a little bit,
You would, you would...
A few years later, they'd be in college - him to become a lawyer and her to become a top-notch journalist. It wouldn't all be smooth sailing and they'd fight from time to time. They weren't perfect and they didn't always see eye to eye. She could be immature sometimes and overdramatic, but as time progressed those traits lessened (some) and beside that, he loved her for all of her; even her dramatic outcries and overexcited outbursts. They broke up once or twice, but they always ended up back together and when college was over, he was on his way to becoming a lawyer in a small firm while she was working in a local newspaper, trying to make a name for herself.
Along the way, she'd met men that would've better fit her definition of the perfect prince, but she never once left Trevor for them or that overblown fantasy. Rather, she'd go home to their apartment and curl up against him as he read through case files. She would leave him to his work, playing with the black tie he wore each day for work, resting her head on his lap while he read - reminding her of back when they were in high school. He couldn't wear the eyeliner or the collar to work, but he donned them outside of it and she was glad she never lost her punk prince to the corporate world, even if her coworkers and the rest of the world looked at them like an odd couple.
When they were married, he wore his eyeliner and everything was done in pink and black; she couldn't have been happier. Her first (and only) marriage was to Trevor and it was both punk and girly, fitting them just right. Their wedding song was the same that played the night they first made love and while nobody else really understood, she loved the symbolism as they swayed back and forth, barefoot in her pristine white dress and him in his all black tux attire. Her mother cried, George pretended not to, Marti brought two dates and snuck a piece of cake early, Lizzie was proud and welcomed Trevor to the family with a hug, Edwin tried a business proposal out on Trevor's coworker's, Derek informed him that now that he was family, he had to learn that Derek was boss (and then laughed it off when Trevor promptly lifted an unconvinced brow). Her dad walked her down the aisle, nodded proudly (despite how he'd offered to take her somewhere else if she wasn't sure she wanted to get married - even had the car gassed and ready for her to escape anywhere she wanted to) and Trevor's parents sat in the front row, proud and happy, his mother crying. Emily and Kendra were her bridesmaids (Kendra caught the bouquet and winked at Derek, who swallowed tightly) and Trevor's best friend Kyle (who had an obvious and long time crush on Emily) was his best man.
After cake and congratulations, where she nearly threw her glass of champagne at "DER-EK!" when he jokingly made a speech about how he had much higher hopes that Trevor would find someone better, they walked out onto the dance floor and shared their first dance, completely oblivious to all else. And she knew as he whispered the lyrics against her ear and stroked the small of her back as they swayed that she'd never been more right to walk down the aisle that day. He may not have been who she expected to end up with, but he was better than anybody else could have been.
Sing me something soft,
Sad and delicate,
Or loud and out of key,
Sing me anything.
Their careers eventually took off and they were able to move from their apartment to a house, where they raised their two children. They came a long way from high school and all of the mishaps it entailed. She wasn't surprised when people were shocked to see her and Trevor together at their ten year reunion. He was still the same punk they were used to, as long as he was out of his lawyer's monkey suit, that is. And she was still the preppy woman who planned just about everything there was. Although, their first daughter Danica hadn't been planned and well, honestly, neither had their son Alex. But they weren't really surprised and definitely not upset. Casey was made to be a mother and she took on the job with all of herself, loving the way her and Trevor's personalities meshed to make two incredible kids.
Sometimes, she looked back on her life and wondered why she ever wanted the cookie cutter life; with the perfect boyfriend or husband and the picture perfect everything. Because while she grew up in chaos (for at least four years in the Venturi/MacDonald house) and vowed she wouldn't have it when she was on her own, she wouldn't give up her mildly unusual life as it was. Her kids were, well, kids. They made mistakes and they didn't always listen and she wouldn't trade them for anything. Sure, they weren't a Derek or a Marti, but they got into their own kind of antics and they never failed to surprise her. And Trevor wasn't some athletic jock or drop dead gorgeous Adonis type. He wore more eyeliner than she did and he had a fascination with black that made her stand out like a strobe light, but his half smile and his warm, intense eyes were enough to make her melt. His breathtaking kisses and the way he held her, how he never really followed that line that she'd set for her boyfriends but instead walked his own always left her feeling proud rather than annoyed. He was his own person and he didn't want to change. So she loved the real him and he loved the real her and every morning she woke up in his arms, his snoring against her neck and her not-so-classic prince mumbling to her that it was her turn to hit the snooze button.
Nothing was perfect, but this was as close as she'd ever get to it and she loved it. Every day, every mishap, every smudge of eyeliner and leather collar or wrist band. She loved Straylight playing in the background and the black sheets on their bed. She loved their kids and the way Trevor still drew shapes and words on her breast every time they made love. She loved how he felt inside of her and how he mumbled lawyer jargon in his sleep. She loved his black nail polish and how it always clashed with whatever bright and feminine color she was wearing. She loved how people always gave them a second glance, surprised to see this preppy girly-girl with her punk husband. She loved that he'd never change for her, not really, and she loved that she didn't want him to.
Nobody would've expected it, not who she was with or how her life turned out. But she wouldn't trade it for all the prince's or castles or knights on white horses in the world.
When the sun came up,
We were sleeping in,
Sunk inside our blankets,
Sprawled across the bed,
And we were dreaming
Category: Life With Derek
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Trevor/Casey
Word Count: 6,361
Summary: Princess met Prince? Not really. But girl fell in love with boy? Very much.
Not-So-Classic Prince
1/1
Casey MacDonald - the proverbial good girl - wasn't quite as pristine as most made her out to be. Sure, she was a keener, much as she tried not to be, and she was peppy and high strung and she probably enjoyed cleaning far too much. But there were parts of her that nobody knew; not even Emily. Her relationships had always been on the safe side, really. First, there was Sam. Probably one of the sweetest and most agreeable boys she'd ever known. She still wondered, to this day, why he put up with her and her overdramatic behavior. But, for a time, she had really cared for him and in his own way, he'd helped her grow. Sometimes, she couldn't help but think that things might've been better off for her if they'd just stayed together. But they didn't and eventually, she dated others.
Again, not the greatest of boys. Scott - or Snot as he was more aptly called - who hurt her before they'd gotten very far in the first place. What she hated most in that too-short-to-even-be-called-a-relationship was that she hadn't realized for herself what a creep he was. He was handsome and charming and he took a liking to her, so she felt special and pretty and she overlooked the fact that Marti, a girl who was abnormally knowledgeable, had so keenly noticed he wasn't so great after all. Thanks to her ever-annoying step-brother, this was thankfully brought to her attention though, and she didn't have to get to know or like him even more before he could really hurt her.
And then came Max... Football captain, handsome, strong and... well, not the brightest of men she'd known. But... He made up that perfection that she'd always been searching for. She became a cheerleader and he was popular and good looking and played football (which just so happened to make him the mortal enemy of her mortal enemy - her stepbrother). So obviously she was dating Max for not so genuine reasons, although it hadn't started out that way. He made her feel pretty and good and sometimes, all she had to do was see his smile and she felt like she was floating on cloud nine. But it just so happened that maybe she wanted that perfection a little too much...
Which is why, when everything just sort of happened with a guy that was very much out of her norm, it sort of made poetic sense.
Once upon a time, she envisioned herself as the princess type (even if she hated how Derek called her princess - more because it was mocking than anything). But she thought of being that beautiful woman that was sought after by the handsome and ever-so-charming princes of the world. It just so happened that every prince she attached herself usually turned out to be more of a toad. And then she met someone who wasn't really a prince - not in the sense that most would expect. He wasn't classically good looking and he wasn't refined; he didn't treat her like a fragile china doll that he had to carefully watch his step around. Instead, he treated her like a real person, like how he expected to be treated back.
When Casey MacDonald actually fell in love, nobody was more surprised that her. Some of her most incredible firsts' were with her not-so-classic Prince. But the one that changed it all was the night he laid her down on his bed, the room dark, lit only with black candles that bounced off the sheer blood red curtains and gave the room a romantic glow. During their quasi-relationship that they hadn't really defined, to each other or anybody else, he'd always acted like a regular person. He didn't go out of his way to say overly cheesy lines or act chivalrous when it wasn't warranted. He held the door open for her because it was natural to him, not because he thought she expected it. He gave her his jacket when she was cold because, well, she was cold and he had a jacket. Common courtesy, really. He didn't proclaim anything and he didn't jump up to fight for her honor; although one dark glare from him in Derek's direction usually had her stepbrother backing off. She found it rather amusing that Derek was actually a little intimidated by her boyfriend.
In any case, that night when she laid back on the black sheets, she finally felt all those treasured and cherished, needed and wanted, loved and entranced feelings that she read about in books and saw in movies. It didn't take him bending down on his knees and screaming to the world that he was her love and she was his. He wasn't like that. He didn't have to act jealous and protective to prove that she mattered; just his hand on the small of her back when they walked together or his fingers finding hers naturally made her feel like he cared and he was there and he wouldn't let anything happen.
That night, things became so clear for her.
It had been like any other night they hung out together, nothing really going into that area where things weren't quite black or white. They'd kissed, they'd made out, they went on dates, although neither of them really called them that aloud. Sometimes, she'd cuddle up to him while he watched TV and she'd fall asleep in his arms. Or he'd be reading a book on his bed when she came over some evenings, on Law or some other intense subject that anybody who looked at him would expect him to be interested in, and she'd let him read, curling up on his bed and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie while he absently played with her hair, his book perched against one of his upturned legs. His parents were surprised when he brought her home, held her hand and just introduced her as Casey. They stared at her a long moment, as if they knew the name but expected another face to match it. But all they got (no matter how many times they blinked) was the rather prepily dressed Casey MacDonald, overachiever and former-cheerleader. She grinned widely, held out a hand to shake each of theirs and promptly gave off the air of the perfect girlfriend, which they were still stunned to find dating their son.
Her parents weren't so surprised, sure they were a little when he showed back up and Derek had been sure to say he could've done better, but the merged MacDonald's and Venturi's had grown to like him despite his not so accepted look and lack of prince-attributes that often came with anybody she dated. They were happy to have him around and though she never stated outright that they were dating, her family assumed that was the idea and she never really corrected them. Because he didn't either, she thought maybe, just maybe, they were "something."
After all, she didn't just kiss or make out or... well, fall in love with just anybody.
His parents were out; a double date with a couple from work. They trusted their son, more than her parents ever would've trusted them at her home, she knew. It wasn't so unusual though. They often left them their alone. Just like usual, the door closed and they went upstairs, laid down on the bed for awhile while he put a CD in and sat down next to her.
"This has been going on for awhile, Casey," he said in his deep voice. He looked down at her with brown eyes she'd grown to love staring into, lined in deep black that made them seem harsher, stronger, more intense.
"And what is... this?" she asked him, a little uncertain to finally put the question out. She lifted a brow, hoping she didn't look quite as worried as she felt.
He sighed, lifting a dark brow back. "That's kind of what I was asking," he admitted, smiling slightly.
"Oh." She nodded, feeling her cheeks blush. "Well, I was kind of, sort of, maybe, hoping that... Um, it could be... well..." Her eyes fell, teeth chewing her lip. What did she hope? Wasn't it obvious? "I mean... I don't know how you feel about labels. Personally, I didn't think I'd like them. But given my background, I find I might need them a little," she began to babble, brows knitting. "Which is probably why I didn't want to label us at first. I mean... I liked just being with you, however that was... And I didn't want us, whatever us are, to turn out like before. But I guess that sort of implies that I'd be your... And you'd be my..."
"Casey?" He looked amused and she felt her blush deepen. "Whatever we are, I think the lack of labeling might've ended sometime around the three month mark..."
She licked her lips. "It's been seven... And two weeks... And four days... Well, unless you don't count those first few days because they were really sort of-"
He cut her off with a kiss, his lips slanting across hers hotly. She felt her back arch, her fingers tightening around the sheet beneath her and her toes curling. He wasn't her first kiss, but he was definitely the first guy to kiss her breathless; until she felt like she could give up air and die happy so long as his mouth never left hers. It wasn't logical, which is why it made so much sense. Casey was all logic and if he could strip that from her and not make her regret it later, then he was beyond anyone before him. Now that they had a definition, it seemed things progressed farther than either had really planned for. Not that she was complaining; more than that, it felt like it was the right move for them, like it was time for them and her. Just another first that she hoped would be one of many with him.
The words welled tight in her throat as he was dragging her jeans down her hips as they swayed side to side to try and help shuffle the denim away. As each inch of her tanned dancer legs were revealed, he bent his head to kiss them, back and forth his soft lips lingering against her skin. Her hand reached out, palm sliding over dark, close-cropped hair that felt nice against her hand. She was nervous, but it seemed like each kiss of his - on the inside of her thighs, the back of her knees, down her calves, to both her ankles - she became more and more relaxed. The jeans were tossed away and she laid there, knees up, her plain white panties seemingly like an unfit choice for this moment. Why couldn't she think of something sexier? Why hadn't she shopped for lingerie or something lacy like Kendra or Emily or pretty much every other girly girl in the world would own?
He didn't seem put-off by her choice in underwear however, instead he leaned between her legs and traced back and forth along the band of her panties, gliding across her stomach with his forefinger. She swallowed tightly, staring at him as his mouth quirked on one side with a half-smile. His hand slid up, caught the end of her pink t-shirt and raised it higher and higher slowly, the black leather bracelets on either of his wrists lightly scraping against her skin. His mouth followed; lips and tongue and teeth laving at her stomach as it tightened and twisted and the butterflies inside ran wild. He stopped when he reached the bottom of her breasts, hidden away in her non-descript bra. He looked up at her, a question in his dark eyes. She shakily nodded, mostly sure. Her breath was coming out heavier and quicker but she chalked it all up to anticipation. It was perfectly normal to feel fear, really. They'd made out (a lot) and he'd touched her and kissed her in places that she never let any other guy near, but this was all in and that was a little scary for her. For some reason she'd always thought it wouldn't be until she was married, but then it wasn't so realistic in this day and age and really, it wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea of sex before marriage, so long as it was between responsible people who loved each other.
Which is when it really hit her. She was letting him go places she'd always expected to let her husband, and only her husband to go, and that's not really what scared her. It was just the idea of giving up control that worried her, not that it'd be with him. She was ready for this and happy that it was him who now lifted her shirt higher, revealing the top of her breasts cupped comfortably and hidden away from his eyes. She lifted her back, let her shirt be stripped away entirely. Didn't even think to look where it went, to wonder if it would be wrinkled later when she found it. It didn't matter.
She was too preoccupied with his mouth caressing the curves of her breasts, his forehead brushing against her chest, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. His body felt heavy against hers, but a nice kind of heavy, as if it was meant to lie there, on top of her, pressed against all of her revealed curves and usually hidden appendages. His hands slid up from her hips, fingers rough but soft (somehow) and tickled her ribs for just a moment, enough to get a smile and a giggle out of her, relieving some of the stress from the situation, enough to make her hands lift toward him. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck, scratching lightly like she often did when he was half asleep, head in her lap, barely watching TV or reading his book any longer. She spread her fingers out against his shoulder blades, covered by his dark hoodie. She bunched up the thick fabric beneath her hand until it was balled in her fist and then she tugged it up and over his head. He sat up from where he'd been lightly nipping the soft flesh of her right breast and pulled an arm out from each sleeve before throwing his hoodie away. A second later, he'd pulled his t-shirt up and off too before he was leaning back over her.
Her breath caught in her throat. She'd felt and touched and kissed the majority of his body but it still amazed her just how nicely it was shaped. He wasn't big and bulky with muscle like Max had been and he wasn't thin and rather sinewy like Sam was, he was somewhere in the middle. Defined but not overly so; she could feel the strength in his arms by touch alone, the way they flexed beneath her fingers. She loved how his back felt when her fingers clutched to it while they rolled across the couch, his head ducked into her shoulder, mouth attached diligently to her neck. There was a dark trail of course hairs that led from his navel, hidden beneath his black jeans. She reached out rather hesitantly, ran a finger down the line, her long nail making him hiss lowly from the intimate touch. She looked up at him, realized then that he wasn't completely unmoved by what was happening. He was breathing just as heavily, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed.
"I'm a little..."
"Me too," he agreed, nodding.
She chewed her lip. "But I still want to... Um..."
There was that half-smile again. "Me too."
"Okay... Then we'll just..." She nodded. "Okay." She leaned up, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and brought him closer until their lips met once more and he stole her breath just like every time before. He lowered until he was on top of her once more, skin against skin and she gasped into his mouth, his tongue reaching for hers and tangling. She could feel his jeans against the inside of her thighs, rough against her skin, and for some reason that was exciting for her. She felt bad and good and entirely absorbed by him. They rolled across the bed until she was straddling him, her hands around his shoulders, her mouth detached from his to wander down his chest, tongue and teeth playing with each of his nipples before falling lower, tracing the indents of his abdomen, teasing faint outline of muscles. She nibbled the trail that had caught her eyes and heard him groan, feeling him squirm beneath her as her hands found the button of his jeans and undid it easily, lowering the zipper slowly. Her breathing became sporadic as she tugged at his jeans until they were gone and he was left in nothing but his boxers, which did nothing to hide the large bulge beneath them. She swallowed tightly, staring at it a moment.
"Casey?"
He sounded worried and she looked up, smiling shakily before she crawled back up his body, being sure to let hers slid against him, feeling his hard length against her breasts and her stomach and then fit comfortably between the juncture of her thighs. He moaned, head falling back, breath coming in sharp pants. She kissed his chin, up his cheek and let her lips linger against his temple for a moment. His hands wrapped around her hips and slid up her back, teasing the line of her spine lightly, making her body bend like a taut bow. His fingers unsnapped her bra and she felt the weight of breasts pull it apart. He slid each strap down her shoulders and the cups fell against his chest as she lifted one arm at a time until she was entirely revealed. She felt insecure for just a moment but then his hand was cupping one of her breasts, chipped black nail polish somehow comforting as he kneaded at her flesh, thumb stroking back and forth against her pebbled pink nipple.
He wiggled down the bed a bit, bent his head to kiss the top of her other breast and trailed lower before flicking her nipple with his tongue and then enveloping it in his mouth. She gasped, eyes falling closed tightly as she arched into the heat of his mouth. She felt goosebumps spread across her skin, from head to toe, making her shiver with nothing but excitement and warmth. She rocked her hips against him, more out of instinct than anything, and felt him rub against her. With the stroke of his tongue and his thumb against her nipples, combined with the hard bulge pressed against her through her panties, she was wet quickly and her body was shaking with anticipation of more.
She ran a hand down his head, kneading the back of his neck and playing with the short hairs. When he detached from her breast and kissed upward, she let her body fall against him, her arms no longer strong enough to hold her up. She ran her hands up and down his side, playing with the band of his boxers hesitantly before running her nails over his stomach. He rolled them over until she was splayed beneath him once more, staring up into his eyes, legs spread, his weight against her. He kissed her, lightly, softly, rather gentle compared to all those air stealing kisses before and at the exact moment, she felt him tug her panties away. She didn't think to stop him, didn't panic, just kept her eyes locked on his as he delicately brushed his lips against hers, over and over again.
With hers shed, she followed suit and reached for either side of his boxers, pushing them lower and lower until they too were gone. She didn't break her gaze from his, despite the fact that she really wanted to. Just a peek; just to estimate whether what she felt was large really was. Just to make sure she wasn't about to get herself into something "bigger than she could handle." His hand cupped her cheek and she was breathless not from any kiss but from the look in his eyes as he did it. His thumb brushed back and forth beneath her eye softly and while she was distracted by this genuine loving touch, she didn't register what his other hand was doing until her neck arched and her body spasmed, feeling his fingers probing her folds, stroking up and down, making her breath catch and her thighs clamp around him. He circled her clit with his forefinger, the others rubbing her all over before sliding into her just a little. She whimpered, biting down on her lip, a little fearfully.
His touch felt incredible and yet a little heavy at the same time. But the stroke of his fingers was nice, distracting and the feel of his lips against her chin and down her neck made her mind pinpoint only on the good, focusing more on how her body tingled and shivered in all the good places. How her breasts tightened and her toes curled; the butterflies were working up a good kind of flurry in her stomach and his mouth fell to her breasts once more, teasing her with kisses all around but never on her nipple like she so desperately wanted. His hand still cupped her face, thumb running up and down the side of her nose as if tracing it, remembering it, taking a mental picture of how she looked by touch alone. It fell to run back and forth along her bottom lip, slipping inside when she gasped. Her tongue reached for it, licked it briefly and he ran it across her lips once more, wetting them. His fingers were running along her slit more knowingly now, relishing in the knowledge of what made her twitch and jerk and cry out his name. He flicked her clit and massaged her folds and in one incredible moment, she broke, sobbing with joy and exhilaration as she came in his hand, her body lifting from the bed, tightening and flushing and begging for more while simultaneously satisfied in a way she hadn't expected from fingers alone. But then was he was kissing her again and she decided it was because they were his fingers that it felt so good.
He said her name into her mouth, breathy and wanting and desperate and it made her feel incredible in that moment, as if she really was a Princess and she had all the power and knowledge and beauty a woman could possess. She wrapped a hand around his neck, the other one pressing into his back, urging him closer. She was freed of inhibition in that moment, still reeling from her orgasm and she suckled his lower lip into her mouth before whispering, "Now. I want you. Now, please."
He caught her in a kiss, his nose brushing against hers and with a little fumbling, a condom was pulled on and he was sliding inside of her, slow and careful and she was chewing her lip in hopes that she didn't cry out in pain. It wasn't quite as bad as she'd first expected, but it was tight and a little uncomfortable and she wouldn't let him move for a full minute, despite how agonized he looked. But he didn't fight her, he just laid there, forehead against her breast, breath panting, fingers wrapped tight around her shoulders. "O-Okay," she finally said, nodding. She wouldn't be a coward; she'd come this far and she wanted more; it was bound to get better.
He looked at her, not quite certain but then he slid a little more in and she was rather surprised at how full she felt; completed. One of his hands found hers, held it against the pillow, their fingers entwined and as he drew out nearly entirely before burying himself inside her once more, all she could think was that she'd lost her virginity to Straylight's Existentialism on Prom Night, which wasn't really the song she'd expected it to happen to. But then, if she had her so-called ‘perfect' first time as it was all planned out it probably would've been to the cheesiest love song ever, in a bed covered in rose petals, with her new husband while he cried because he was just so happy to have her.
In all honesty, she was incredibly happy that the man she was with now was very much not crying.
There are moments when,
When I know it and
The world revolves around us,
And we're keeping it,
Keep it all going,
This delicate balance,
Vulnerable all knowing
He kissed her; her mouth, her shoulders, her neck and arms and breasts. Her fingertips even, as he lifted her hand to his mouth while he slowed in his thrusts inside her. Sweaty and worked up, he pressed his lips to each of her fingers and the inside of her palm, down to her wrist before he held the back of her hand against his cheek and groaned her name, holding tight to her hip while he sped up once more. Her legs wrapped tight around him, thighs shaking, heart ready to burst out of her chest. Her hair was in tangled around her, damp and sticking to both her and the dark pillow beneath her. Her hand slid up his slick back, feeling it flex with each deep movement inside of her. Her fingers wrapped around the black leather collar on his neck and for some reason that was comforting whenever her eyes closed, as if she didn't need to see him, but she could feel and know it was him. Not that it could ever really be anyone else, or that she even wanted it to be. She was finally happy in a relationship and it didn't need perfection or a knight in shining armor.
She could barely breathe; it seemed like each time she inhaled, she was forcing it out just as it filled her lungs. Her hips were lifting and falling in rhythm with his, her body straining for those heights, no longer feeling any pain, instead searching for each stroke that would fill that empty space inside of her. He felt so good, pressed inside her, hugged tight by her inner walls.
She knew they weren't the most expected couple, by far. Once upon a time, he'd been the focus of a bet between her and Casey, which led to her meeting a boy she hadn't expected to like but did. Except back then, he wanted someone more like Emily, which hadn't worked out and left her a little deflated. But now, this had nothing to do with bets and she'd grown up a lot since being that inexperienced girl who hadn't thought it through, hadn't yet learned a valuable lesson. But she knew him now, had known him better than anybody else after more than seven months in their unnamed relationship where he'd become the center of her attention in an all-consuming way. Princess met Prince? Not really. But girl fell in love with boy? Very much.
She could feel it building up inside of her and if the way his movements quickened and fell out of sync, he too was approaching the precipice. She reached up with one hand to cup his face and swiped at the sweat across his brow. His eyeliner had smudged, dark marks beneath his eyes and smeared across his cheeks. For some reason, that was entirely beautiful. She leaned up, kissed one of his black marked eyes and panted against his eyebrow as his fingers slid beneath them and stroked her clit in tandem with his deep thrusts. His fingers tightened with hers against the pillow and she sucked in breath after short breath until she felt everything implode into a million fragments that buried themselves inside of her and made her every fiber sing and dance and scream with ecstasy. To match her insides, she let out a long, pleasured moan that mixed with his in the air between them. His forehead found hers and their lips brushed against each other as they panted for air. His hips still jerked against her, his length buried inside of her as she clenched and tightened around him while her body slowly came back down to earth.
He kissed her, just a peck before they were both desperately dragging in air, and then another peck and another until he let his head fall to her shoulder and they both tried to find their bearings once more. Some kind of grounding in a world where she still felt tilted and off balance and entirely fantastic with that. He slid lower down her body, his ear against her breast and while she was still coming down from her high, he seemed entirely fascinated with drawing shapes and such on her breast with his finger, running all around her nipple and drawing or writing or something while she tried not to get turned on by his touch. Her legs throbbed pleasurably with an ache that she knew would probably feel more than a little uncomfortable come morning, but she could care less for now.
She closed her eyes, lips curved in a sated smile and one of her hands reached for the leather collar around his neck once more, tracing back and forth along his neck absently. He was heavy and she was exhausted, but she didn't want him to move, she liked him right where he was, comfortably laid out between her legs, his hair tickling her skin, his fingers still moving against her, his breath skittering over her chest. "I love you," he said, deep and certain, without a trace of fear or insecurity. She envied that.
If it were anybody else, she would wonder if it'd been fake or if he meant it. She'd spend hours going over the tone of his voice, whether it was just because they'd had sex or if he really did mean those big three words. But this was him and somehow she just knew. She didn't question it or fear that it was a side effect of losing their virginity to each other. Instead, she replied, "I love you, too," and she was surprised how genuine and easy it was to say. To him, anyway.
He rolled them over, relieving her of his weight and she laid on top of him, bare skin to bare skin, her head comfortable beneath his chin, his fingers stroking up and down her back, tracing the small just above her butt. He tossed his sheet over them and she let her eyes fall closed, inhaled the moment and put it away in the brimming file cabinet drawer of her organized mind; the one labeled "Trevor - First Real Love." She kissed his chest and let out a soft sigh before she let herself fall asleep to the touch of his fingers and the thump of his heart.
Sing like you think no one's listening,
You would kill for this,
Just a little bit,
Just a little bit,
You would, you would...
A few years later, they'd be in college - him to become a lawyer and her to become a top-notch journalist. It wouldn't all be smooth sailing and they'd fight from time to time. They weren't perfect and they didn't always see eye to eye. She could be immature sometimes and overdramatic, but as time progressed those traits lessened (some) and beside that, he loved her for all of her; even her dramatic outcries and overexcited outbursts. They broke up once or twice, but they always ended up back together and when college was over, he was on his way to becoming a lawyer in a small firm while she was working in a local newspaper, trying to make a name for herself.
Along the way, she'd met men that would've better fit her definition of the perfect prince, but she never once left Trevor for them or that overblown fantasy. Rather, she'd go home to their apartment and curl up against him as he read through case files. She would leave him to his work, playing with the black tie he wore each day for work, resting her head on his lap while he read - reminding her of back when they were in high school. He couldn't wear the eyeliner or the collar to work, but he donned them outside of it and she was glad she never lost her punk prince to the corporate world, even if her coworkers and the rest of the world looked at them like an odd couple.
When they were married, he wore his eyeliner and everything was done in pink and black; she couldn't have been happier. Her first (and only) marriage was to Trevor and it was both punk and girly, fitting them just right. Their wedding song was the same that played the night they first made love and while nobody else really understood, she loved the symbolism as they swayed back and forth, barefoot in her pristine white dress and him in his all black tux attire. Her mother cried, George pretended not to, Marti brought two dates and snuck a piece of cake early, Lizzie was proud and welcomed Trevor to the family with a hug, Edwin tried a business proposal out on Trevor's coworker's, Derek informed him that now that he was family, he had to learn that Derek was boss (and then laughed it off when Trevor promptly lifted an unconvinced brow). Her dad walked her down the aisle, nodded proudly (despite how he'd offered to take her somewhere else if she wasn't sure she wanted to get married - even had the car gassed and ready for her to escape anywhere she wanted to) and Trevor's parents sat in the front row, proud and happy, his mother crying. Emily and Kendra were her bridesmaids (Kendra caught the bouquet and winked at Derek, who swallowed tightly) and Trevor's best friend Kyle (who had an obvious and long time crush on Emily) was his best man.
After cake and congratulations, where she nearly threw her glass of champagne at "DER-EK!" when he jokingly made a speech about how he had much higher hopes that Trevor would find someone better, they walked out onto the dance floor and shared their first dance, completely oblivious to all else. And she knew as he whispered the lyrics against her ear and stroked the small of her back as they swayed that she'd never been more right to walk down the aisle that day. He may not have been who she expected to end up with, but he was better than anybody else could have been.
Sing me something soft,
Sad and delicate,
Or loud and out of key,
Sing me anything.
Their careers eventually took off and they were able to move from their apartment to a house, where they raised their two children. They came a long way from high school and all of the mishaps it entailed. She wasn't surprised when people were shocked to see her and Trevor together at their ten year reunion. He was still the same punk they were used to, as long as he was out of his lawyer's monkey suit, that is. And she was still the preppy woman who planned just about everything there was. Although, their first daughter Danica hadn't been planned and well, honestly, neither had their son Alex. But they weren't really surprised and definitely not upset. Casey was made to be a mother and she took on the job with all of herself, loving the way her and Trevor's personalities meshed to make two incredible kids.
Sometimes, she looked back on her life and wondered why she ever wanted the cookie cutter life; with the perfect boyfriend or husband and the picture perfect everything. Because while she grew up in chaos (for at least four years in the Venturi/MacDonald house) and vowed she wouldn't have it when she was on her own, she wouldn't give up her mildly unusual life as it was. Her kids were, well, kids. They made mistakes and they didn't always listen and she wouldn't trade them for anything. Sure, they weren't a Derek or a Marti, but they got into their own kind of antics and they never failed to surprise her. And Trevor wasn't some athletic jock or drop dead gorgeous Adonis type. He wore more eyeliner than she did and he had a fascination with black that made her stand out like a strobe light, but his half smile and his warm, intense eyes were enough to make her melt. His breathtaking kisses and the way he held her, how he never really followed that line that she'd set for her boyfriends but instead walked his own always left her feeling proud rather than annoyed. He was his own person and he didn't want to change. So she loved the real him and he loved the real her and every morning she woke up in his arms, his snoring against her neck and her not-so-classic prince mumbling to her that it was her turn to hit the snooze button.
Nothing was perfect, but this was as close as she'd ever get to it and she loved it. Every day, every mishap, every smudge of eyeliner and leather collar or wrist band. She loved Straylight playing in the background and the black sheets on their bed. She loved their kids and the way Trevor still drew shapes and words on her breast every time they made love. She loved how he felt inside of her and how he mumbled lawyer jargon in his sleep. She loved his black nail polish and how it always clashed with whatever bright and feminine color she was wearing. She loved how people always gave them a second glance, surprised to see this preppy girly-girl with her punk husband. She loved that he'd never change for her, not really, and she loved that she didn't want him to.
Nobody would've expected it, not who she was with or how her life turned out. But she wouldn't trade it for all the prince's or castles or knights on white horses in the world.
When the sun came up,
We were sleeping in,
Sunk inside our blankets,
Sprawled across the bed,
And we were dreaming