A/N: So, this is nothing more than an exercise of sorts… I'm really just trying to force myself to write something again.

"Drop it, Venturi," Casey ordered, not even bothering to spare Derek a glance.

"But I'm hungry," he practically whined, hand still clutching the hot wing. He started to ask his wife how she had even known he was trying to liberate the wing from its spot on the platter in the first place, but then thought better of it. After this many years of marriage, it was time for him to accept that Casey simply had eyes in the back of her head.

"Too bad. So sad," she responded, back still turned to him, while she meticulously folded her mini chicken wraps with the type of concentration that one might devote to a particularly difficult origami project.

Derek sighed, but did as he was told.

"Well, if I can't eat yet, what am I supposed to do?"

"Here's a novel idea," she responded wryly, "why don't you, you know, actually help me get everything ready?"

Casey couldn't see it, but Derek's eyes were rolling when he replied. "Everything like what? You've been at this all day: cleaning this, cooking that. Other than your art project over there, what else could you possibly have left to do? Everything looks perfect," he said, voice genuine, if annoyed.

"Really?" She asked, sounding unsure as she finally turned to face him, "So, everything looks okay then?"

"Really," he assured her. "If Martha Stewart was still alive and kicking, she couldn't have done better herself."

Casey slid him a look at his choice of words, but did seem to relax a little if not completely.

"And you're not just doing the nice husband thing?"

Ummm no. Top to bottom, bottom to top, their house was spotless, and there was enough food placed around the room to feed a small army. (And enough liquor to satisfy a small navy.) Derek was no expert, it really didn't take too much more than a couple of beers and some chips for him to consider a party to have been a success, but even he could see that as far as house party preparations went, it probably wasn't going to get any better than this.

"What's wrong, princess?" He asked, closing the distance between them and gently wrapping his arms around her waist.

Sure, Derek knew his wife was a tight ass by nature, but her overkill party prepping seemed a bit much, even for her.

"I don't know," Casey replied, not quite meeting his gaze. "I'm just nervous, I guess…"

Derek tilted his head at her, clearly waiting on her to continue, so she sighed and said, "Look, Sam's going to be here..."

"Okay," he drawled when she paused again.

"He's going to be here, and you're here, and even when you're both trying to be polite to each other, it's like the most awkward thing ever, so there's that," she said in a rush. "Plus, you know, ummm… everybody else will be here," she finished lamely, voice barely above a whisper.

Derek was just about to say something, but Casey let out a little self-deprecating laugh before he could even open his mouth.

"This seemed like a way better idea in theory than it does in execution."

There was quite possibly no greater testament to how much Derek loved his wife than the fact that he hadn't yelled, 'I told you so," the second she had stopped speaking.

Instead, he swallowed the words that were dying to get out of his mouth, and tried another, less combative, approach.

"Well, it's too late for second thoughts now," he replied, shrugging. "So, just try not to think about it – focus on something else."

"Really," she said, the word fairly dripping with sarcasm, as she took a pointed look around the room. "And just how am I supposed to do that?"

"Well," he began, tightening his hold on her and bringing her body flush against his own, "I can think of a couple of ways."

"No, Derek," she protested, but the words were practically whispered and sounded half-hearted at best.

When he leaned in to kiss her she made absolutely no move to stop him. In fact, the only action she did take was to wrap her own hands around his neck, effectively deepening their embrace.

Apparently, that was all the encouragement Derek needed. Never breaking their kiss, he picked his wife up and sat her on the counter in one swift motion.

"Derek," she more moaned than actually said. "We can't."

She still hadn't made any attempt to actually remove herself from his grasp though, so Derek ignored her, choosing instead to start working on the buttons of her blouse.

"People," she started, but paused for a minute when she felt her husband's hands make their way inside her shirt. "People will be here in like minutes," she finally managed to get out.

Still, there was no response from Derek. And, frankly, when she felt the first hook of her bra go, Casey was pretty much beyond the point of caring herself.

That is, until she heard the front door opening and a voice called out, "Knock, knock."

There was a horrible little moment where time seemed to actually stand still. Then,

"Oh, my God!"

That got a reaction – Casey immediately planted her hands on Derek's chest and pushed him off of her.

Eyes frantic, she lifted her gaze to her husband.

And almost slapped him. The idiot was grinning like a maniac.

"Well, damn," Derek said, followed by what almost sounded like a chuckle.

"Der-ek," she hissed, mortified. It was bad enough to be caught in a compromising position, but to have to be caught by them – well, Casey would've literally rather died.

"Emily," Casey said, finally forcing herself to look past her husband and face the music. "I –

"No, no," Emily interrupted her, "no need to stop on our account." Her voice was so flat that Casey couldn't tell what was going through the woman's head.

Sam on the other hand, well, his expression was about as open as they come. He was standing behind his wife looking like he might vomit… or, maybe faint.

"Emily, Sam," Derek said, turning around to greet his company, but still managing to block the view of his wife who was frantically working to close her blouse. "Fancy meeting you here."

Casey could actually hear the smile in his voice, and had to summon every ounce of self-control she possessed to stop herself from kicking him.

"Der-ek," she snapped again. Then, "Emily, Sam, I'm so –

"You know," Emily said dryly, cutting her off again, "when I take a roll in the hay – or even on a counter – with my husband, I don't hang a sign on my front door inviting people to let themselves in."

Having finally managed to close the last of her buttons, Casey hoped off the counter as ladylike as she could manage and moved to stand by her husband, sending him a glare as she did so.

"See," she tried to explain again, "we didn't mean to –

"Put on a peep show?" Emily asked, interrupting once more, but this time her lips were twitching. "You're just lucky we didn't come across you guys while you were any… further along, or Sam might've turned your peep show into a snuff film."

That was it, Derek couldn't hold it in anymore, he fell out laughing.

Casey stared at him incredulously for a moment, but when she heard Emily laughing too, she refocused her attention on the couple at the door.

"So" she said slowly, sounding incredibly confused, "you're not mad?"

"Ummm… no," Emily said, giving Casey a look as she shrugged out of her coat. "Why would I be mad that you're making out with your husband in your own house?"

"Yeah, but…" Casey let her voice trail off.

"Come on," Emily said, grinning, "you know I had to mess with you a little."

Emily wasn't lying – she wasn't mad. In fact, this was just the sort of thing she had come to expect from Derek and Casey. Odd as it may sound, catching them going at it in the kitchen was not at all surprising to her.

That being said though, Emily wasn't exactly joking about the whole snuff film thing. She knew her husband – knew that Derek and Casey's house was about the last place on earth he wanted to be that night, or any other night for that matter. And, Emily knew without a doubt that Sam had taken the little Skinamax show they'd just walked in on personally. Not because he was jealous or still had feelings for Casey or anything like that, but because he would consider this an attempt by Derek to be funny, cute even. So, yeah, while Emily kind of found the whole thing funny, she didn't think for a second that Sam would be joining in the laughter.

"Well," Casey said, finally seeming to relax a little. "Thank goodness. Here, umm… let me take your coats," she offered, moving towards the couple.

Sam took one look at Casey's outstretched arm and made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort.

"I need a drink," he mumbled, before heading straight to a table that looked like it had every type of hard liquor known to man on it.

"Well, damn," Emily muttered, echoing Derek's earlier words, but this time nobody was laughing.

TBC…