I own nothing, of course.

Derek Venturi splashed cold water across his face as he studied his blurry reflection in the dirty mirror before him. Bracing his hands on the cool surface of the tiny bathroom sink, he leaned forward, bringing all the features of his face into an uncomfortably sharp focus. A painfully sharp focus. Ignoring the sallow bags of skin under his eyes, the two-day stubble smeared across his chin and cheeks, the cracking dryness of his lips, he focused only on the murky, muddy and muddled depths of his own eyes. He breathed out a long, slow breath, akin to a sigh but not quite, and stared into his own reflection, into his own eyes, as if he could find all the answers there. Answers to questions like, how the hell did he get here?

Shaking his head, to clear his thoughts and shake off the last remnants of wishful thinking that clung to the stringy strands of his hair, he turned from the depressing bathroom mirror and sauntered into the cracked living area of his shithole apartment in the southeast side of Washington, DC. That's right. Not Toronto, not New York, not Chicago. He had picked DC because he figured, as the most unromantic of American cities, it was the last place he'd ever run into her. But of course, that didn't work.

Little Miss Fucking Perfect, in the flesh. Soft, supple flesh…he closed his eyes and sucked in a big breath of stale air, trying to stay focused.

They hadn't spoken; they had barely even acknowledged each other.

It had been a typical Thursday night for Derek. He had strolled into work right on time (yes, that's right, on time. He was actually a surprisingly prompt person these days), clocked in, and settled in for another night of listening to people's problems and doling out remedies—of the alcoholic variety. The bar was on the nice side of town, and the clientele erred more on the side of yuppie twentysomethings, rather than the unsavory characters one might find near his apartment. It paid enough and he could usually get away with enough free drinks to keep himself comfortably numb.

So he hadn't thought anything of it—hell, he barely even noticed it—when a well-dressed man and woman about his age strolled up the bar. The guy (blonde hair, green polo shirt, haughty and aloof) ordered a vodka and tonic for himself and an apple martini for his lady friend. Derek mixed up the drinks while simultaneously continuing a debate about hockey versus baseball with a fellow (dark hair, grey button-down, a little older than most of the patrons) who was already a little drunk when Derek started his shift (straight bourbons all night).

He paused in his conversation to hand off the drinks to the prick and his ladyfriend, and collect the money. He slid the V&T across the counter to the guy, but being the gentleman that he was (don't laugh. A lot can change in nine years), he handed the woman (chocolate hair, pale pink sweater, and, oddly enough, Casey) her martini. And proceeded to stare.

His first thought was that she was here to ruin his life, again. But then he realized that was all but impossible, seeing as how he hadn't spoken to any of their mutual acquaintances (including best friends, exes, family…) since he left after graduation eight years ago. No one knew where he was these days. Hell, Casey McDonald probably didn't even remember him (he knew that wasn't true, but he thought it anyways).

So he was absolutely floored to see her here, out of all cities in the world, out of all the bars in the city, out of all the nights and times of the week. Just my goddamn luck, he thought.

But, being Derek Venturi, he recovered quickly. Aside from an unmistakable widening of her eyes, Casey gave no indication that she knew him before hurriedly focusing her gaze towards her (probably expensive, high-heeled) shoes. So Derek simply returned his attention to the loser she was with. "Twenty bucks," he said casually, willing his voice not to crack or shake or fail him. And it didn't. Because what Derek wants, Derek gets. Kind of.

The pair turned, disappearing back into the crowd of the bar. At one point, Casey caved and turned around, getting one last look at Derek. She gave him a kind of half-smile, an attempt at friendliness. Derek returned it with a cold, indifferent stare before turning away, back to his work. Back to his carefully constructed life without Casey McDonald.

That, of course, didn't exactly work. He had the next three days off, but instead of his typical routine (various forms of debauchery punctuated by the occasional sports game or workout), he sat in his apartment alone, in the dark, drinking. And thinking. About Casey McDonald, and how she ruined his life the first time around. Just like she was going to do again. Fucking Casey.

Xxx Eights Years Earlier… xxx

"Der-EK!" Casey screeched as she slammed shut the front door and stomped up the stairs. It was the middle of their senior year of high school, and by some miracle of God, Casey and Derek actually sort of got along more often than not. Sure, they still fought like cats and dogs, but it was more good-natured and less hostile. They were almost friends. But Derek (being Derek) still liked to prank her occasionally, when the opportunity presented itself.

This time was no different, although the prank was rather harmless if you asked him. They had been late that morning, thanks to Derek, and Casey had a presentation first period. So, she had been in such a rush to get her books and get to class, that she didn't even notice she had left her locker slightly ajar. But Derek noticed.

He knew that she wouldn't be back to her locker until after lunch. He also knew that she was staying late after school today to do some keener thing or another. So, deciding first period calculus (don't ask, he didn't know how THAT happened) would be alright without him, he headed down to the gym, to see his old buddy at the supply closet.

About a half hour later, Casey had a locker full of ping-pong balls, and Derek was high-tailing it for the parking lot, deciding he didn't want to chance facing Casey's wrath during the school day. And he was never one to pass up an excuse to skip school. Although it was sad he was going to miss her getting showered in ping-pong balls. Oh well, he was sure he would get a play-by-play recap by everyone later.

So when he heard Casey stomping towards his room that afternoon, he grinned broadly. With their new dynamic, he figured she would yell at him for a few minutes, and then tell him EXACTLY what had happened, and somewhere in the middle realize just how funny it actually was. And all would be forgiven. After all, it was a totally harmless prank, right?

But one look at Casey's face as she stormed through his door made him reconsider. She looked PISSED. He wiped the grin off his face and gulped. Maybe he should have stuck around at school.

"You might like to know, brother dear, that your little prank today almost KILLED ME!" she screamed, getting right up in his face. Derek held his breath, trying to keep his cool, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Casey took that as her cue to continue—not that she necessarily needed one, she would have continued regardless.

"I accidentally STEPPED on one of your stupid PING PONG BALLS and almost cracked my head on the FLOOR," she yelled, emphasizing certain words for additional impact.

Derek actually felt the color drain from his face. He never wanted her to get hurt. It was just a dumb prank. Casey didn't seem to notice this, however, as she continued with her rant.

"Luckily Noel was with me and he caught me so I didn't SMASH MY HEAD AND DIE!" she yelled. Derek swore her face was starting to turn a little purple.

"Case, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean—" he started, but she cut him off. Apparently there was more.

"AND THEN, Mrs. Parnell came around the corner, and decided to give ME a detention for the mess! Even though it wasn't my fault! Noel tried to get me out of it by taking the blame for it, but then she just gave him a detention, too. So now we BOTH have detention. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT," she fumed. And before Derek could even react, she turned on her heel and stormed out of his room. Their shared wall shook a little as she slammed her own door.

Derek sat on his bed for a few minutes, stunned. She almost got hurt? Noel helped her? She got a detention? The old Derek might have been delighted, but the new, slightly more mature Derek actually felt bad. He was also fuming at the idea of Noel laying his hands on her. Not that he would ever tell anyone. He couldn't have anyone knowing he was some kind of incestuous freak. Because that what they would all think, if they knew he was attracted to his step-sister.

He quickly shook off those thoughts, however, and got off his bed, opened his door, and walked out into the hall, intending to go to Casey's room and apologize. But Casey was in the hall too, on her way to his room? The bathroom? The latter seemed more likely. At any rate, they stopped, coming face to face with each other. He was immediately reminded of an old Western style show down. Casey crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him.

"Move," was all she said. He took a step towards her.

"No," he replied, staring down into her blue eyes unflinchingly. He crossed his arms in an imitation of her. "Not until you let me apologize."

"I don't care about your stupid apology," she spat. "I just want to go shower and forget today happened," she added, and stepped to the right to try and go around him. Derek countered her movements, continuing to block the way.

"Come on, Casey," he pleaded. "Don't let things go back to how they were," he said, trying to reason with her. Her stance, and her expression, remained unchanged. She was royally pissed.

"Fine," he spat back, not wanting to sacrifice any more of his dignity. "You can just spend all your time with Noel then," he shot venomously.

Casey's eyes flashed angrily, and she uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on her hips. She took another step towards him. "What, Derek, are you…jealous?" she taunted, sneering a little on the last word.

His breath hitched in his throat. She was so close. It would be so easy to close to the gap between their lips. He started to lean forward. He could feel her breath on his mouth. They were looking at each other through half-lidded eyes, and Derek thought to himself "this is it. Take that Noel." But then he hesitated. Thinking about Noel. And all the other kids at school. And how it would ruin everything for her, and for him. His entire reputation would be in the trash. Kissing his stepsister would undoubtedly ruin his life.

So instead of kissing her, he went for the typical Derek route instead.

"Jealous?" he breathed against her lips. "Why would I ever be jealous," he continued. He pulled back from her just a little, looked her in the eyes. "That would be incest, Space Case. That's disgusting, even for you," he said coolly. Hurt flashed across her face, and suddenly he was reconsidering his decision. Suddenly he didn't really care about the kids at school. But it was too late, because she had already disappeared back into her room. He had lost her.

The next day at school was hellish. It wasn't a huge school, so he typically saw her in the halls a lot anyways, but today it seemed like she was everywhere. Whenever he saw her, she would look at a friend, look at the wall, look at her shoes, look anywhere but at him. It was making him crazy. He couldn't do this. He couldn't stand acting like he despised her, acting like she revolted him.

So at the end of the day, he sucked up his courage and walked up to her as she was getting her things from her locker. He stood patiently behind her, waiting for her to finish. Finally she stood up, closed her locker, and turned around to face him.

"What do you want, Derek?" she asked in a voice devoid of emotion.

Derek said nothing, instead he shouldered his bag and did his best to ignore the small crowd of people milling around them. Then he grabbed her face, and crashed his lips into hers.

And for a minute, everything was perfect. It was the most clichéd moment of his life—it was as if everything had stopped.

But just as she had started to respond, she stopped. And put her hands on his chest, and pushed him away. He stumbled back slightly, confused. More than a little hurt.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" she shouted. By now everyone had stopped to stare. They were creating quite the spectacle. "That's called incest, you fucking sicko," she continued. He was shocked by her swearing, by her behavior altogether. Had he read her wrong last night? Apparently.

Glaring at him as if he was the devil himself, Casey made a big show of wiping off her mouth with her hand. "You disgust me," she spat, and pushed her way out of the crowd, and disappeared down the hall. Dazed, Derek simply stared after her. He found himself leaning against the lockers for support, the cold metal pressing into his back. As she disappeared down the hallway, he slowly sank to the ground. He just stared emptily in front of him. His eyes were completely vacant.

The crowd began to disperse.

This will probably be a three shot, if it goes as planned. But who knows what'll happen...