Hi Dasey lovers. I recently discovered this little community and read just about every Dasey in existence. When I exhausted them all, I realized there was nothing left to do to satiate my obsession but write my own fic, so here we go. I've got about 7 or 8 chapters written already, so stay tuned for more soon (:

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own life with Derek. If I did, the show would have ended differently and it would not have been rated G.

I

Casey didn't stay a virgin long after heading off to university. She got caught up in the campus norm which seemed to penetrate every social situation, every aspect of her life. Sex was everywhere, and not only had everyone had it, everyone constantly wanted it. People spoke of it as though a day without sex wasn't a day worth living, and she was sick of feeling like she was missing out on an integral part of the university experience.

Her first time didn't last long. It wasn't with a stranger – she couldn't even fathom a situation in which she would let herself go through with something like that – but he wasn't necessarily someone with whom she felt entirely comfortable, either. They'd made out a few times, so she figured he'd be a willing candidate. And since sex was what all that other stuff is supposed to lead up to anyway, why not just get it over with so she could finally stop feeling like such a freak?

Everything about the experience was mediocre, from the mediocre foreplay to the mediocre act itself to the mediocre cuddling and the mediocre goodbye the next morning. Casey had never been one to settle for mediocrity.

There were nights she scolded herself silently for settling. She was fairly aware before going through with it that she didn't actually want to, but she wanted to want to. She was not, by any means, a stranger to sexual desire. But what she'd experienced was sex, the basics. Not love-making, not take-me-now-sex, not even hate-sex – just plain, mechanical, sexual intercourse.

Then there were those rare nights she cried herself to sleep. She'd waited so long, and every fibre of her being wished she had just waited a little bit longer – long enough to meet the right guy for the task. Not necessarily the right guy for the long-haul, just someone for whom she felt something – enough, at least, to truly enjoy the experience. Someone she was passionate about; someone like–

"Der-ek!"

Her step-brother opened her front door just as she had bent over to organize her shoes, and it hit her right in the head.

"Shit, Case, I'm so sorry…" He seemed genuinely apologetic, but she wasn't having it. How many times had she told him to knock over the past three years? She hadn't thought it would be an issue now that she finally had her own place, but evidently, she was wrong.

She picked up a flip flop and chucked it at Derek, who was virtually defenseless, his hands occupied by a heaping laundry basket. He broke out into a wide grin, realizing she wasn't seriously injured.

"Aw, you'll get over it, space-case. Nothing a little makeup won't hide."

She gasped and ran to the nearest mirror. The last thing she needed was a huge bruise on her forehead.

"You're such a jerk!"

"Yeah, yeah. Can I borrow some laundry detergent?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that's a little presumptuous of you? What if I didn't have any?"

"You're not fooling anyone; I know you're too anal to ever run out of anything." She opened her mouth to protest, but decided it was useless. Besides, she had nothing planned for the day and no roommates to occupy her time; this apartment was paid for by Casey's father, who knew this would be a more comfortable living arrangement for her first year, in more ways than one.

"You know where it is," she said, exaggerating her defeatist attitude. He smirked, and she was sure to conceal her smile until after Derek had already brushed past her in the direction of the laundry room.

Derek stopped by sometimes. In fact, Derek stopped by quite often. Casey tried (and failed) not to acknowledge just how often.

"So…what have you been up to?" she asked. She had followed him and was leaning against the wall by the door to the laundry room, watching as he separated his whites and darks. (She'd taught him well!) It had been a week exactly since they had seen each other last. Most of his time was occupied by hockey and trying to stay on top of his grades in order to keep his scholarship. Casey was as studious as ever.

"Oh, you know," he replied. "Women. Booze. Livin' the life."

Casey didn't let on that she didn't believe him.

The two of them spent the afternoon together, marathon-watching Game of Thrones in Casey's living room and bickering at every chance. Derek got up occasionally to tend to his laundry and each time he returned, his new position on the sofa made Casey uncomfortable in one way or another. When they finally came to the mutual decision to order a pizza, it took the pair twenty minutes to decide which type. Derek hogged the dipping sauce (typical!) and Casey threatened no less than six times to never let Derek do his laundry in her apartment again. But when Derek's clothes were all clean and dry, a familiar awkwardness took up residence in Casey's apartment; they both knew that if Derek stayed, that meant he wanted to be there, and that simply wasn't possible. So, he grabbed his basket and left, muttering a half-assed goodbye while Casey pretended to be distracted by the television so as to hide her disappointment.

However, they both also knew with the utmost certainty that he'd be back.

This was their relationship, and she had no idea what to make of it.