Life with Derek - Story of a Girl (2/11)
Title: Story of a Girl (2/11)
Author: amoenavi
Fandom: Life with Derek
Pairings/Characters: Derek, Casey, Sally
Rating: T (because of one word)
Summary: Ten things Casey McDonald can't stop doing (that don't involve Derek Venturi at all. Really.)
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Five: She's scared of ordering things at restaurants because she thinks the waitress will judge her based on her food choice (she usually orders something very complicated with dishes added and taken off... it's why she tries to get Derek as her waiter most of the time... really, it is)
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“Psst, Derek!”
He turned around slowly, balancing table five’s vegetarian nachos on top of table two’s check and table one’s ice cream, to glare at the source of the noise. “What?” he hissed back.
The brunette sitting alone at table three, which was also his - the table not the girl, jeez-, waved him over frantically.
“I’d like to order now,” she said quietly, blue eyes scanning the restaurant for the other waiters.
“You’re kidding.” He looked down at himself, the pile of food in his right hand and the drink tray in his left, then at Sally, over in the corner talking to one of the male customers, empty handed. “Just get Sally, I’m kinda busy.”
A gloved (…gloved, seriously?) hand grasped his arm and yanked him back into the booth. He did a quick check: nachos in place, check not ruined, ice cream not melted, root beer, Coke, lemonade still in (separate) cups. No wonder he was manager; dude, he rocked at this job.
“But this is your section,” she insisted, frowning at him. “You need to be responsible and serve the customer in your section.” She brandished the menu in his face, trying to stack it on top of the drinks. “I’m ordering.”
Derek avoided the menu, gaping at Casey. “What is your problem, Head Case? Do you not understand human speak anymore?”
“It’s not that long of an order, it won’t be any problem if you just-”
“No.”
“But Sally looks busy and I don’t really want to disturb her and you’re already here so-”
“No.”
“But-”
He whistled loudly and Casey covered her ears, angrily glaring at the back of his head. “Sally!”
The blonde looked up, startled. “Yeah, Der?”
Nodding to the crazy girl behind him, he said, “Order,” and went off to finally deliver the food in his arms.
00
“Ma’am, I’m sorry ‘your food is too cold’ but, uh, it’s ice cream. It just… it comes like that. Like, normally.”
“Derek?” Sally cleared her throat, tapping her high-heeled foot impatiently on the tiled floor, leaving him to decide which the lesser evil was: an irritated Sally or a stupid customer.
Resigned, Derek tilted his head toward his ex-girlfriend. “Did you get Casey’s order?”
“There was no one there, Der.” He ground his teeth together in silent frustration. Derek. His name was Derek. Not Der. Not Ek. Derek.
Wait- “What?”
She motioned for him to follow her across the restaurant. “Look, I know you’re upset because we broke up-”
“You think I’m tricking you because we- I broke up with- Are you crazy?”
She held up a silencing hand. “Passive aggressiveness is not the answer, Derek,” she responded, (fake!) concerned.
The irony of the situation did not pass Derek by. “Me? Passive aggressive? Casey, back me u-” he gestured to the spot where she had been seated and froze when he saw that table was empty. “What?”
“See? It’s empty.”
“What?” he repeated, searching the booth for the step-sister he had just snapped at. “Where’d she go? She was- she was here, Sally, I swear!”
“I’m just going to go… get that man’s order. Over there.” Sally backed away, arms crossed over her chest and notebook in hand.
“Sally!” He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted. “Damn it.”
“She gone?” He jumped at the sound of Casey’s voice coming from underneath the table.
“Jesus- Casey?” he yelped as she tugged on his pant leg. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I only order from you,” she stated calmly, crawling out from underneath the table. “Sally just… well, I- I like to avoid her.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”
Her head popped up, doing a cursory scan of the restaurant, and she struggled to get back in her seat without attracting any attention, using her hands for support against the table.
Derek watched this entire scene unfold feeling as though he should be shocked by the turn of events and yet not quite mustering the strength. Casey was just… Casey. He’d stopped trying to figure out what was wrong with her a long time ago.
He sighed. “What’re you having?”
“The usual: Two grilled cheese, one with tomato, one without, tomato soup, but only Campbell’s because the other ones are too tomato-ey and not thick enough, oh! And make sure it comes with a large plate because I’m going to pour it on the grilled cheese, lemonade with a fresh lemon in it and two lumps of sugar, and…” she scanned the menu momentarily, “Right! A Caesar salad with blue cheese dressing. Not Caesar dressing, blue cheese. So it’s a special order.”
“Whatever, freak,” he muttered, turning and walking toward the kitchen muttering something about crazy high maintenance stepsisters.
He knew she would stop him before he felt her insistent tap on his shoulder. “You didn’t write any of it down. How are you supposed to remember if you didn’t write any of it down?”
“I’ll remember.”
“But, you can’t-”
“Two grilled cheese, tomato, no tomato, Campbell’s’ soup, plate the size of your brain,” he winked at her, “fresh squeezed lemonade, two sugars, and a JC salad with blue cheese dressing.” Derek grinned. “Did I get it all?”
“Um, well, um, yeah.” She sat back down slowly, brow furrowed. “But how did you…?”
He shrugged. “You get it every time, Case. Chill.” He flashed her an arrogant smile and sauntered into the back room where he promptly collapsed against the kitchen wall because um, hold up; since when had he started remembering her weird order?
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