Time Machine

A/N: So the title is a tad random but I was watching the Dasey video on youtube to this song and felt the need to make a fanfic. I know this isn't like my usual stuff and I know you might not like it but please, be kind. Also, I do not own Life With Derek. However, I do have an announcement I'd like to make. I am going vegetarian. I know it's a big step for me but someday I'd like to get to the point of being 100% vegan. Please pray for me and my decision to do this. Thank you.


She couldn't believe it. There she was, standing at the altar with him only a mere few feet away. He looked drop-dead-gorgeous in the tux she had picked up for him. The red rose in his lapel stayed perfectly in place due to her idea to pin it with a safety pin after it kept slipping. His hair was cut neatly in an attractive, more mature manner. That had also been one of her suggestions. But it was not just him that was perfect, the church was.

Red roses, her favorite, laced the carpeting leading up to the altar that Marti had sprinkled to and fro. She had been so excited when he had appointed her the flower girl. She knew usually the bride gay away that position but no woman in their right mind would argue when he had put his mind to something. No woman in their right mind except for her.

She had always been the one. The one that challenged him. The one that questioned the authority he had deemed for himself. She had always been the one and the only one. No one else could hold that position, no one else ever would.

Their relationship was something special. Something that no one – not even themselves – quite understood. One moment, they would be madly fighting and at each other's throats with threats of torture, murder, and other things echoing through the walls they shared. So of course, when the fighting stopped, and the friendship side took over, neither knew how to react. Each and every move they made was like walking upon eggshells. Breaths were held during conversations in fear of saying something wrong and then spiraling down into the behavior they had finally escaped from. It was difficult for both of them but both were headstrong and wanted to see it through, whatever it happened to be.

College came quicker than either had suspected. Soon she was off to New York and he stayed back home to pursue his career in directing, something she had blatantly encouraged. She knew he had talent, even if he didn't. So off they went in separate directions promising to stay friends and to call. And they kept those promises for the first two years.

After their sophomore year, things began to grow difficult. She had found another guy who lit up her world just like he used to be able to. She knew she should wait but she had to face it. He couldn't be there for her when she needed him and this new guy could. They dated for a while before she finally broke up with him. Nothing about him fit her high standards.

His favorite color wasn't red. His favorite band wasn't 7th Street. His favorite food wasn't pizza. His favorite movie wasn't Iron Man. He couldn't burp the alphabet. He couldn't shoot milk out of his nose. He couldn't not shower for a week and still be irresistible.

She found the traits she once abhorred were now traits she looked for in all guys. Of course, no one was quite like him.

He also strayed from his promise. He missed her like crazy and would find a new girl every Friday night to hook up with in hopes of easing the pain he felt from missing the one girl he could finally be satisfied with. She was like a hunger to him and no other girl, no matter who they were, would be able to ease those pangs of starvation he was feeling towards her. No other girl but her.

Until he met Madeline.

Madeline was everything he had been looking for. She was brunette, liked ballet and old musicals, could sing, loved poetry, ate tofu, and was obsessive about herbal teas. Madeline was everything close to what he was missing in her and so he leapt at the chance. A few months later, he found himself on one knee asking Madeline for her hand in marriage.

And a few months later, she ironically found herself playing the dutiful maid-of-honor, holding the bride's bouquet as she leaned forward and kissed her new husband. Her heart broke at the sight.

He stepped back at the kiss and for a brief moment, let his eyes wander to the beautiful girl a mere few feet away holding a bouquet of red roses and looking down at the floor. He swore for a second that he saw a tear trickle down her cheek and for a brief moment, his breath clenched in his throat and his eyes began to sting.

They were destined for this, they always knew. It was their damnation to never be together and both had known since they had first laid longing eyes on each other. But neither could predict the pain inflicted by this passing moment in which true love did not conquer all.