Those Things We Do

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek in any way, shape, or form. Besides this story.

Summary: "God dammit Derek, let me go!" But he didn't. He couldn't. Wouldn't.

It's my first and probably only try in the LWD fandom. I'm hooked, but everything worth writing is already out there. This almost Dasey moment's been stuck in my head for the past few days, and I'm getting it off my chest. And if it sounds like I'm bashing Max, I never really liked him.

Oh, and this is under the pretence that Masey didn't call it quits during Allergy Season.

If you asked Derek Venturi when he'd started caring about his step-sister Casey MacDonald, he wouldn't be able to give you an answer. Most would say it was that one incident involving a certain cheating soccer coach, but there's no way to be sure. Maybe he always cared. Maybe it took time. Maybe it was one of those stark, startling realizations.

But one thing he knew; he cared now.

Less than six hours ago, it had been a regular Saturday night. The game was on, and Derek was reclining in his chair with various snack foods, while Smarti played hide-and-seek with Daphne, Lizzie was out with Jamie, on a "group date" and Edwin at Teddy's. Nora and George sat at the dinner table, discussing something he'd been too lazy to find out himself.

Just him and his favourite pastime. Life didn't get much better. That is, until the phone rang.

Glaring vehemently at the interruption, Derek snatched it up. "What?"

"Derek?" It was Emily. "Is Casey there?"

The brunette rolled his eyes. Wasn't this the reason he'd bought that cell phone for his step-sister? "No. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait." Emily's voice was strangely high and tense. "This is important. I tried her cell, but there was no answer."

Eyes still on the action, Derek let his mind backtrack. "She was squealing about a football party the other night. What's this about anyway?" The sooner he knew, the sooner he could get back to hockey.

"It's about Max." Now fully intrigued, the teen leaned forward on his knees. "What about him?"

There was a very long pause. "You'd better come over here."

--

As ticked as Derek was about missing the game, a knot of apprehension overshadowed the irritation. What about Max could possibly be so important that Emily felt the need to inform him? She and Casey knew the rule. If she didn't interfere in his personal life, he would return the favour.

After travelling the mere 6 feet to Emily's door, the boy knocked, and it swung open immediately. A wide-eyed best friend of Casey's stood in the doorway with—

"Sam?" Derek did a double take. He knew they were all mutual friends (acquaintances, more like) but since when did Sam hang at Emily's house? "What are you doing here?"

His best friend, surprisingly, replied in all seriousness. "It's a long story. But you need to see this."

"See what?" Derek was beyond confused. "What are you guys—?"

They wasted no breath in explanation, just shoved the eldest Venturi into Emily's home, sitting him down in front of Emily's computer. A black USB cord attached Emily's video camera, the same one Derek had used to record Casey's surprise party.

"Watch."

It took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at, but the hall party of Thompson High after the football finals quickly came into focus. Derek recalled Emily being asked to film it.

"If you dragged me all the way here just to watch some football players gloat..."

All of a sudden the picture was frozen, and Derek craned his head to stare quizzically at his friends. "Now what?"

Sam's jaw was tight, and Emily was biting her lip. "I want you to look for Max."

"And how am I supposed to tell him from—"

"Number 12." was Sam's curt reply.

So, with a roll of his eyes, Derek obeyed, scanning the screen until a small "12" came into view. He tracked the jacketed arm, up to Max's unmistakable spiked hair. It was him, alright.

"Okay, there's Waldo. Can I go now?" The teen stood, but both Emily and Sam shoved him back down. Derek growled his frustration. "What the hell you guys!?"

"Just keep watching." Emily's voice was stony. Somewhat stunned, he did as told, watching Max as he high-fived multiple people, yelled "Yeah Bulldogs!" with dozens more, and embraced a slim blonde—

"Stop."

The picture froze a second time, and Derek pitched himself forward so far that he almost cracked his nose on the screen. Yup, a slinky little blonde was draped on Max's arm...a slinky little blonde that was definitely not Casey.

His jaw tightened and both fists clenched so hard Derek's knuckles turned white. Emily and Sam stared down at him anxiously. "Derek?"

"Is there more?" he asked through gritted teeth. Emily was biting her lip again, a habit she'd no doubt inherited from or gave to Casey. The video rolled on, and Derek watched through narrowed eyes as Max cuddled up to his "friend" and...Derek closed his eyes as the making out began.

All of a sudden Casey flowed into his mind, glowing with happiness. Over Max. Lying, cheating, son of a bitch Max. This was going to crush her. Derek gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to break something. He'd given up thinking of Casey as a sibling a long time ago. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to protect her like one. And he definitely was not going to keep this to himself.

The sleepless soccer-coach nights of old had taught him better than that.

Emily was rambling. She sounded afraid, unsure, and livid, all at the same time. "I was going over this for the coach, since he wanted the video, and I saw that...I wasn't sure so I called Sam for a second opinion..."

She sounded near tears. "I wished I was just imagining it..."

Sam slung an arm around her shoulders and gave Emily a comforting squeeze. "Max is a prick." he declared decisively. Derek agreed whole-heartedly. Standing, he asked, "Can you blow that up and print it for me?"

They gaped at him. "You're going to—"

"Yes." Derek replied flatly. Emily got to it, as his cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey D, I need to talk to you." It was Jake, a fellow hockey player. He sounded angry. "I'm at the footballers party—"Derek twitched angrily, "—and before you start lecturing, my girlfriend made me come. But point is, I just heard Max telling his buddies that he's going to..."

Jake trailed off, his voice quieting. Derek gripped his phone tighter. "What, Jake? He's going to what?"

"Be occupying the spare bedroom tonight." The teen's heart stopped. "With Casey."

The end of the grinding noise to Derek's left signalled the finished print. "Where are you?"

Less than 20 seconds later, the photo was torn from Emily's grasp as Derek disappeared, and the sound of squealing tires rang out through the dead of night.

Casey MacDonald was having the time of her life. Her quarterback boyfriend and his team had won the city finals; she was here at a great party having an amazing time with said boyfriend, and best of all; no Derek.

Yes, things were moving along quite nicely for Casey, which was why when Max suggested a little more privacy from the raging party-goers, she'd easily agreed. They'd ended up in a guest bedroom upstairs, making out.

And as much as Casey enjoyed making out with her boyfriend, things soon began getting uncomfortable. Max was on top of her on the decent-sized bed, his hands on either side, effectively trapping her beneath him. And the heat quickly became unbearable.

"Max..." The girl tried to push him off, but he didn't budge. Stupid football strength. "Max, c'mon I need air..."

He did let up at last, but only enough to try and unbutton Casey's top. "What are you doing?"

Max didn't reply, choosing instead to smother her with kisses. Casey was beginning to feel sick. "Max, get off. Max!"

He put a hand over her mouth and she screamed against it, wriggling with all her might. The brunette bit down on the palm of Max's thick hand and he cried out, removing it, and Casey took the opportunity to shriek the loudest she knew how.

And in the space of ten seconds, the door flew open, Max was ripped off the bed, and Casey was staring at the leather jacketed back of an enraged Derek Venturi. "DEREK!"

But this time, unlike the countless other times she'd screamed his name, Casey was glad to see him.

--

Derek was so angry he could barely see straight. Well enough, however, to land a good, solid, nose-breaking right hook. "Stay the hell away from her!"

A now-bleeding Max stood against the bedroom wall, cursing and clutching his face. It was then that Casey noticed the fallen piece of paper brought in by her step-brother. After several moments of open mouthed disbelief, angry tears welled up in her eyes. "How could you?"

She launched herself at her cowering ex-boyfriend, fully intent on hitting him so hard he'd see stars. But Casey hadn't counted on Derek, who'd caught and held her back in mid-flight.

"Casey."

Tears blurred everything, including the arrival of Jake, whom Derek called to "Get this asshole out of here!" She struggled against him uselessly. Stupid hockey strength.

"God dammit Derek let go of me!" But he didn't. Derek wouldn't let her go. He couldn't. At last Casey gave up, sobbing as Derek released his grip and relocated his arms around her shaking form.

"Sorry Case," he whispered into her hair. "No can do."

The eldest children of their blended family would look back on this moment in similar fashion, noting the break of Derek's "no hugging" policy, as well as the fact that they were pressed as close as close can be. This would be the step off that furthered Derek's non-sibling thoughts, and the one that showed Casey why Derek did what he did; those tiny, few, and far between nice moments they shared.

Because he cared.

Authors Note: So? Thoughts? Sorry for any mistakesl it's quarter to 2 in the morning and there's only 40 left on the lappy.

You know what to do.

Annie