Title: Something More

Title: Something More

Summary: Sometimes something so common can be something so much more.

A/N: I have decided to write a one-shot for each color I found on this color-symbolism website thing. I hope you enjoy! Oh, I don't own LWD.

Red

Action, confidance, courage, and vitality. Sometimes used to describe temper and anger. Also can be used to describe prosperity and joy. Can also mean fire and warmth.

Derek Venturi paced back and forth in the locker room, running a frantic tangle of fingers through his mussed hair. Sighing, he flopped down on the closet bench, put his head in his hands, and tried to breath. He hated this feeling – the nerves and nausea he experienced each time he was close to stepping out onto the ice for a game. This wasn't just any game though, this was the championship game and there would be scouts – scouts! – from several big-named colleges. He had to do well. He just had to.

A lurch in his stomach caused him to gag and he tried desperately not to throw up this time. But then again, it was inevitable. He threw up every time before a game and, for the sake of the locker room floor, he ran to the urinals and gagged until sometime came up. Wiping his mouth, Derek leaned against the wall and fingered for his necklace. The charm he wore on a leather string always brought him luck. He traced the silver ring with his fingers and closed his eyes. Alright, ring, do your magic!

"Derek?" Someone called from the entrance of the locker room. The voice was district – Derek would have recognized it any where.

"What do you want, Case?" He shouted to the door.

"The game starts in five minutes. All the other players are out but you."

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Derek…" her voice was laced with concern and Derek wanted to slap her for it, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm just dandy, Case!"

"Derek…"

"Look, Case!" Derek shouted towards the door, "I'm just fucking fine and I don't need you to make anything worse!"

"Al-alright," Derek could hear her voice stammer and he wanted to regret his words but he just couldn't right now. After the game, he'd have all the time in the world for regret, but not now. Now he had to focus.

Shaking his head, he walked over to his open locker and lifted the helmet out and slapped in on his head. It was now or never. He'd have to step out onto that ice eventually. Why do you even play hockey if you know it kills you? Derek mused as he made his way to the entrance. Why do you even play hockey if it makes you this way?

Despite how horrible he had felt before stepping out onto the ice, Derek played his best. His grace and agility on the ice as well as his passion and love for hockey was visible as he glided across the ice and shot the puck into the goal about ten times that night. After the game (the score being in favor of the Bulldogs), Derek glanced up to the stands, removed his helmet and pumped his fist into the air, smiling at the family that was watching him from above. Casey was hopping up and down screaming and clapping, Lizzie and Edwin hugged, Nora and George were clapping, smiles emerging on their faces, and Marti was shouting, "GO SMEREK!" from the top of her lungs.

After changing out of his jersey, Derek made his way out of the locker room to find Case standing by the door waiting for him.

"Hey," he nodded at her.

"You were amazing tonight!"

"Thanks," Derek grumbled, "Hey, Spacey, about what I said earlier…"

"It's okay," Casey said with a casual flip of her wrist, "I know you just get that way before a game. Besides, this one had scouts and you were just nervous…"

"Remind me why I even put up with this?" Derek mumbled, thumbling with his necklace.

"Put up with what?" Casey blinked, confused.

"Hockey. I mean, I turn into such a monster before a game. Hell, I've even snapped at Smarti before! It makes me sick to even think about getting on the ice and…I.-I don't know why I still do it."

"Walter Wellesley Smith once said in regards to his passion for writing 'There is nothing to writing. Just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein.'"

"In case you didn't see tonight, Case, I play hockey. I don't write."

"But the same goes for you and hockey, Derek. Wellesley had a passion for writing and he loved it but it was very difficult. He kept writing though, because it was something he loved and had a passion for."

"Who says I have a love and passion for hockey?" Derek scoffed.

"Anyone who saw you play tonight," Casey answered simply, "Well, I gotta go back and find Mom and George."

"Hey, Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Derek. Oh, and I did see those scouts smile and nod after about your fifth shot."

"Ha!" Derek laughed, "That was nothing."

"Nothing, Derek?" Casey looked shocked, "It most definitely was something!"

"Well, I guess I did kick butt tonight, didn't I?"

"You always do," Casey smiled at him before walking down the corridor to the rink.

Derek sighed and leaned against the wall. Playing hockey was easy – a piece of cake even – in comparison to having a conversation with that girl. Derek shook his head, hoisted the gym back onto his shoulder, and followed after her. He won the big game, now all he'd have to do was claim his prize.

"Hey, Spacey! Wait up!"

A/N: So, what do you think? Should I continue? If I do, my next color will be Pink…