"Derek, it's eleven thirty-five."
Derek groaned against the crease of her mouth. "Congratulations, Case, you finally learned how to tell time." Insulting over, he moved his mouth back on top of hers.
Casey went along obligingly for another minute or so before she ended up shoving at his shoulders again. "Derek."
"Curfew is eleven thirty."
"I am aware of that, thank you."
"I'm just saying..." Derek had this trick where he'd let her talk, but he'd try to distract her at the same time. Usually by kissing her neck. Which she loved. Which he was very good at. Which he was doing right then. She tried not to groan.
"It's a good ten minute drive home," she pointed out, trying to be serious, getting a few strands of his hair in her mouth in the process of Derek moving his head and kissing just under her jaw. "So we'll... we'll be, like, fifteen minutes late."
Yeah, it figured, Derek wasn't paying attention. Casey recognized all of his usual tricks, ones that she shouldn't have let him get away with but always did, mostly because, well, he was really good at what he did.
Derek nibbled her earlobe, hands creeping upwards. And around back. And... damn. Under the shirt, over the bra was as brave as Casey was willing to be with Derek, and him violating that rule was not a convincing argument to get her to stay.
"Derek," she said firmly, twisting away so that his fingers were wrenched from her bra clasp.
"Oh, whatever. Like Dad and Nora have ever cared if I've come home fifteen minutes late."
"I have a reputation to maintain," she said awkwardly, which was her word vomit replacement for her initial response, which was 'they care about me'. Just as well.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Derek smirked, likely at the idea of her 'reputation' and how much he was sullying it at the moment. "I'm just saying, we're already late."
Casey stared at him blankly, failing to see why he was pointing out the patently obvious. The obvious which, incidentally, she'd been repeating to him for the past few minutes.
Derek sighed at what he perceived to be her obtuseness. "My point is, if we're already late, we've already done the worst we can do. What's a few more minutes?"
Okay, not that she'd ever admit Derek Venturi was right about anything, but he did make a very good point. And with his lips on hers, he made a very compelling argument. So maybe she gave in to her impulses for a little while longer, the warmth of his hand on her knee, the clammy skin just below his shirt collar, the tug on her shirt as he twisted the hem in his fist, the sweep of his tongue across hers.
Then a new sense invaded her brain: the harsh scrape of tires on gravel as a car pulled up next to them on the bluff. Casey blinked at the foggy windows and was hit with a harsh dose of reality. It was a Wednesday night, Derek was supposed to be picking her up from the library since her car was in the shop, and they were supposed to be home ten minutes ago. They were not supposed to be making pit stops at well-known make out spots, so that Derek could aim once more for skin-to-skin second base, while anyone from school could see (if they could see past the steamed up windows).
"Okay, we should go," she said.
Derek groaned. "Two more minutes."
"Non-negotiable. Besides, you got a lot more than two."
"Ugh," he said, but obediently turned the keys in the ignition. "You are going to owe me later."
"I so don't think so."
Casey pulled a mirror from her purse and went to work smoothing her hair and fixing her lip gloss. She rolled down the window a crack so the cool breeze could help evaporate the steam, and Derek took the slight whistle as his cue to turn up the radio.
"Your taste in music sucks."
"One," Derek lifted his hand from the steering wheel to count off on his fingers, "no, it doesn't. Two, my car, my stereo, my music."
"Three," she grabbed his hand and plunked it back down, "both hands on the wheel."
"Ten and two?" he said, openly mocking.
"Be quiet and drive." Casey forcefully zippered her bag shut and wondered why she even bothered.
She was right, though, when she waltzed first through the front door and was greeted by her mother and George, pretending to watch a movie. "Casey, it isn't like you to be so late. You know, your curfew is eleven thirty."
"It's past midnight."
"It's a school night!"
"We'd just like it if you call, Casey," interrupted George gently.
"Sorry I'm late," said Derek, breezing into the house. He'd been right, too, in that they didn't seem to notice that he had the same curfew as Casey. Everything in this house was always about Derek. Casey prickled with the injustice of it all, but was surprised when he jumped in with: "I was picking Casey up from the library, because I'm oh so very nice, and we ran out of gas. It's my fault."
George laughed. "You ran out of gas? Man, that was the excuse I used to give when I wanted to take girls up to bluff to park..." He glanced nervously at Nora and coughed, "When, ah, my friends, I mean, wanted to take girls up to the bluff to park, that was what they said..."
"Casey, Derek, why don't you kids get to bed. You have school in the morning. And George and I have some things we need to discuss..."
"Right. Good night!" Casey chirped, making her exit swiftly, grateful for George's unwitting interference, to the point where she didn't even object to his ungentlemanly behavior and the negative impact it had on Derek's upbringing and overall personality.
As evidenced by the way he barged into the bathroom just as she was brushing her teeth. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Casey spit out toothpaste foam and glared at his reflection in the mirror. "Derek! I could have been on the toilet or in the shower or something."
"I heard the sink going."
"Still. How would you like it if I barged in on you?"
Derek leered at her. "You can join me in the shower anytime you like."
"Would you just leave?"
"Nothing doing," he said. "You owe me two, now. One for cutting me off in the car, and two for saving your butt back there."
"Look, I don't know what you think you mean, but--"
Derek's arms were around her in a flash, and Casey became suddenly very conscious of how not-thick her pajama pants were, now that Derek's hands were on her waist and hips. His tongue plunged deeper into her mouth and she unconsciously grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
Derek pulled back with a tiny, smug smile. "Minty." And she watched him saunter to the door, nonchalant while she tried to catch her breath.
"Hey, Case. You're gonna need a ride in the morning, right?"