A story featuring lots of intentional run-on sentences and a highly inappropriate use of italics. This was written practically a year ago, and I only just found it, wrote the last paragraph or so, and decided to post it.
They're making out on his bed and it's sort of weird because it's her, but it's way more awesome than weird, and the whole his tongue in her mouth thing is going pretty damn well when she has to ruin it by being Casey.
"So I made a list of pros and cons about this...thing."
"You made a list?"
She's shaking her hair back from her face, completely serious, that freak, and he'd totally make fun of her if it weren't for the fact that she's sort of sitting in his lap and what kind of idiot messes with something as good as that?
"Pro number one," she says primly. "Is that I am attractive enough to make up for you being...you."
"What, you mean devastatingly hot?"
He's pretty sure she has some sort of comeback to that but he's sucking on the skin where her neck meets her shoulder and so she settles for a disgruntled...grunt.
"Con number one," and her voice is somehow both frostier and breathier than before, and damn he doesn't know how he had ever gotten off with anyone else, because she sounds helpless even while she's being her same old irritating, commanding self, and it's sexy as fuck. "Is that you are a jerk and I don't know why I'm doing this."
"Because you like it." His breath feels like it's got it's own mass or something, because it's heavy as it pushes across her skin. "You like fighting with me, you like my stupidity, and you like it when we actually get along, cause..." he's a little distracted since he's just found that apparently she arches into him like a fucking cat when he presses his fingers along the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, and now he has another thing to add to his mental list of things he needs to remember about her "'cause when we work together, we are fucking amazing."
He proves his point by dragging his lips back up to hers, and for a long stretch of time they're both distracted in a slow burning exploration of each other's mouths and he's just thinking that she's forgotten the rest of her list when she pulls away again.
"Con number two," and he realizes that she's skipped telling him "Pro Number two" and he's ticked off for some reason, because, hey, there is definitely more than one pro to this...thing "is that we live in the same house, so you'll probably try to sneak into my room and molest me or something, because you think you have permission to."
The sickening lurch in his stomach is obviously just his lunch turning over so he laughs at that and maybe grips her arms a little tighter than he needs to, trying to drum up some humour to reply to that obviously not funny joke she just told.
"You think I'm going to try to rape you or something? Isn't that a little...vain?"
She's skittering backwards away from him as far as she can go at those words, stopped only by his hands on her wrists.
"No!"—and she sounds bizarrely affronted by his words, even though he's the one who just got insulted—"Derek, if my opinion of you was that bad, I wouldn't even be attempting this...thing. It's just not good for people who are...you know...to be living in the same house."
And a different kind of warmth than the one burning through his body before is filling his stomach and he decides not to bother stopping the stupid ass smile stretching his cheeks because hey, she's letting him hold her like he's always always always wanted to, and she didn't mean what he thought she did, and so maybe he pulling her closer and pushing his face into her collarbone for a reason a bit more sappy than he's ever done with a girl.
"Casey, Casey, Casey," and her name tastes even better than usual when it's spoken against her skin "you've got it all wrong. See, living in the same house is a pro. Because whenever you want a piece of this" and he wants that to come out with the usual Venturi awesomeness except she chose that moment to slide her hands tentatively under his shirt, so the word is a lot more strangled than it should be "you can just grab me and take it. It's yours now."
But she doesn't get it because she's opening her mouth and she's talking about "Con Number three" in an increasingly shrill voice, which is apparently Derek's "penchant for flirting with lots of other girls, and Derek, I am not going to put up with that because if we're doing this thing then it's all or nothing, okay—"
She's pulling back and looking at him and triumph is flaring bright and hot in his chest—or at least he thinks it's triumph, because he's never felt something quite like this before—but she still looks worried and his mouth is suddenly operating on it's own:
"I'm yours, alright? You're mine, I'm yours, simple mathematics here. That's it."
And her mouth is falling open slightly, those swollen, kissed by his mouth lips parting and her eyes are growing soft and he's starting to feel like maybe he just revealed more of his hand than he should have and now she's going to clean him out and leave him penniless so he leans back against the pillows and grins up at her and says,
"Pro Number two: You won't get kicked out my room anymore...provided, of course, that you're always naked when you enter."
That's got her launching herself at him, but he doesn't really mind her righteous words of "Derek, you sexist pig!" and "I am not doing that!" because she's laughing into his mouth and although he'd never say it out loud, he doesn't even care if she wants to put off the naked fun time for years as long as she keeps smiling at him like that. That's Pro Number One on his list.