Chapter Text
Derek woke to the shrill ring of a burner phone he barely remembered buying. The sound cut through the stale air of the cheap Vegas motel room like a dentist’s drill. Thin, sun-bleached curtains hung limp against the window, doing almost nothing to block the brutal desert glare that painted everything in harsh yellows and oranges. Dust motes danced lazily in the slanted beams of light. The mattress beneath him was lumpy, the sheets tangled and damp with sweat.
The girl from last night had already slipped out—thank God—leaving behind nothing but the cloying scent of cheap vanilla perfume, a smeared lipstick mark on the pillow, and an empty condom wrapper glinting on the nightstand like a sad little trophy.
He groaned, rubbing a calloused hand over his stubbled jaw, and reached for the vibrating phone. His voice came out like gravel dragged across asphalt. “Hello?”
Silence stretched on the other end.
“Hello? I’m hanging up if you don’t say something.”
“Wait!”
The voice was small, shaky, and raw. Instantly familiar, even after two years of radio silence.
“Penny?” Derek sat up so fast the room tilted. His heart slammed against his ribs.
“Yeah… it’s me.” She sounded like she’d been crying for hours. “How are you, Derek?”
He swung his legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the threadbare carpet. “I’m… fine. Where the hell did you get this number?”
“Mom.” A long, painful pause. “I didn’t know if I should call.”
Derek fished a cigarette from the crumpled pack on the nightstand. The lighter clicked sharply in the quiet room, and he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling toward the water-stained ceiling. “What’s wrong, Pen?”
“Nothing. This was stupid. Forget I called—”
“Penny.”
The line went dead.
He stared at the cheap flip phone for a long moment, then hit redial. Straight to voicemail. Typical Penny—reaching out only to pull away again. He tossed the phone onto the bed and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.
Two years. Two damn years of radio silence since that ugly screaming match back home. She’d announced she was moving to Los Angeles to chase acting dreams, and he’d told her it was a stupid fantasy that would break her. Words had flown like knives: *irresponsible, delusional, asshole, just like Dad.* Neither of them had apologized. But family was family, and if Penny was calling him—of all people—something was seriously wrong.
“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath.
He moved with purpose now, the decision locking in. Twenty minutes later, his few belongings were stuffed into a worn duffel bag: a couple changes of clothes, his old laptop, a dog-eared copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, and a handful of Star Wars Episode 1 trading cards he’d carried since the premiere in 99. Stupid sentimental shit, but they were his.
The parking lot asphalt shimmered with heat as he approached his Harley. The black motorcycle sat low and mean under the blazing Nevada sun, chrome catching the light like a promise. He’d bought the used beast after his last dead-end job fell through—his only real possession that didn’t feel like a burden. Derek kicked up the stand, tugged on his scuffed helmet, and swung a leg over. The engine roared to life with a deep, hungry growl that vibrated through his chest and bones, drowning out the distant slot machine jingles from the Strip.
He pulled out onto the highway, the desert wind whipping across his leather jacket. The landscape stretched endlessly: cracked earth, jagged rocks, and Joshua trees standing like lonely sentinels under a merciless blue sky. Heat waves rose off the blacktop as he pushed the bike harder, the speed bleeding away some of the restlessness gnawing at him.
Miles blurred together. His mind wandered back to Penny—the little sister who used to steal his hoodies and beg him to watch Halloween marathons with her. She’d always been bright and beautiful, the kind of girl who turned heads without trying, just like him. But she was also stubborn as hell. He’d been the one with the Business degree from a no-name state college, the “responsible” brother who still couldn’t hold down a job. Street-smart, quick with numbers and people, but allergic to cubicles and bullshit bosses.
What if she didn’t want him there? What if showing up made everything worse?
He laughed bitterly, the sound lost in the roaring wind. Nah. She’d called. That meant something.
Hours later, the desert finally gave way. The air grew slightly cooler as he crossed into California. Palm trees appeared along the roadside, swaying lazily against the sky. Pasadena unfolded before him like a pastel-colored postcard—neat suburbs, wide streets, and the faint scent of eucalyptus and dry chaparral mixing with the distant Pacific breeze. It felt cleaner than Vegas. Quieter. Almost too normal.
He killed the engine in front of the familiar apartment building at 2311 Los Robles Avenue. The Harley settled with a satisfied metallic tick as it cooled. Derek swung off, helmet tucked under one arm, leather jacket creaking. Road dust and faint cigarette smoke clung to him. His back ached from the long ride, but adrenaline kept him sharp.
He glanced at the lobby door, then at the elevator. A handwritten sign taped crookedly to it read: OUT OF ORDER.
“Great,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Stairs it is.”
The stairwell echoed with his heavy boots as he took the steps two at a time. His heart hammered harder than it had any right to. Memories flashed: Penny as a teenager laughing at his terrible impressions of Yoda, the two of them sneaking snacks during family movie nights before everything went to hell.
By the time he reached her floor, his knuckles hovered inches from the door. The hallway smelled faintly of takeout and laundry detergent.
This was either going to fix things… or blow up spectacularly in his face.
He knocked.
The door creaked open after what felt like an eternity.
Penny stood there in an oversized gray sweater that swallowed her frame, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun with strands escaping everywhere. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, mascara smudged just enough to show she’d been crying on and off for hours. She looked exhausted, fragile in a way Derek hadn’t seen since they were kids. For a split second, she just stared at him, mouth slightly open, as if he were a hallucination conjured by too much wine and regret.
Then realization hit.
“Derek?” Her voice cracked.
Before he could answer, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. He caught her instantly, pulling her tight against his leather jacket. She smelled like vanilla shampoo, cheap takeout, and the faint trace of tears. He hugged her back just as fiercely, one hand cradling the back of her head like he used to when she was little and had nightmares.
“You came…” she whispered into his chest, voice muffled.
“How could I not?” he murmured, his own throat tight. The road dust and cigarette smoke on his clothes probably made him smell like a Vegas parking lot, but she didn’t seem to care.
They stood like that for a long moment, the hallway light buzzing overhead. Eventually they pulled apart, both a little awkward, both pretending they weren’t wiping their eyes.
Penny sniffled and stepped back, gesturing inside. “Uhm… sorry about the mess. I wasn’t exactly expecting guests.”
The apartment was classic Penny: clothes draped over the couch, half-empty wine glasses on the coffee table, and a couple of acting scripts scattered across the floor. It looked lived-in and lonely at the same time.
Derek shrugged off his leather jacket as he stepped inside, revealing a fitted black V-neck that showed off the lean, toned muscles earned from years of manual jobs and riding. He draped the jacket over a chair and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness from the long Harley ride.
“You look good,” Penny said, managing a small, watery smile as she eyed him.
Derek smirked. “You look… well, not so good.” He dodged the middle finger she flipped at him with a laugh. “But seriously, Pen. You sounded rough on the phone.”
She waved him off and moved into the tiny kitchen. “Want coffee or something?”
“Yeah.”
“The usual?”
“You know me, sis.”
He slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching her move with the familiar grace that still turned heads. The coffee maker gurgled to life. A few minutes later she slid a steaming mug across the counter. Derek wrapped his hands around it, inhaling the rich aroma. One sip and he closed his eyes.
“God… that’s perfect. I’ve missed your coffee. What’s the secret?”
“You’ll never know,” she teased, leaning her elbows on the counter opposite him, chin resting on her hands. For a moment, the old playful spark returned to her eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said softly.
“Me neither. But here I am.” He met her gaze steadily, the easy charm fading into something more serious. “What’s bothering you, Penny?”
She looked down into her own mug, tracing the rim with a finger. “Nothing… just… feelings and all that crap.”
Derek raised an eyebrow, the street-smart big brother radar kicking in. “This is about a guy?”
“Sorta. Kinda. Yeah…”
He felt a familiar protective flare in his chest. “Whose jaw needs rearranging?” The casual threat came out half-joking, but there was steel underneath. Penny let out a surprised chuckle, the sound watery but genuine.
“It’s nothing like that. It’s my fault, really.” She sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just… I screwed things up with someone I actually liked. Or maybe I didn’t. I don’t even know anymore.”
Derek nodded slowly, taking another sip. He wanted to push, but he knew his sister. She’d talk when she was ready. “You wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head. “Not right now. Can we just… order pizza and watch TV? I could really use a friend.”
A genuine smile broke across his face. “Yeah. Of course.” He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. It was fat with cash — mostly hundreds — fanned out like a Vegas win.
Penny’s eyes widened. “Where the hell did you get that much money?”
“I won it,” he said casually, shrugging one shoulder. “Poker table in Vegas got lucky. Figured it was better spent on my baby sister than on another bad decision.”
She laughed, the sound lighter this time. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your favorite idiot,” he shot back, grinning. “Now come on, let’s see what this pizzeria of yours has. Extra pepperoni still your go-to?”
They huddled over her phone, scrolling through the menu together. Penny leaned against his shoulder like old times, occasionally nudging him when he suggested something ridiculous like pineapple on pizza (“Blasphemy,” he muttered, secretly knowing it would make her laugh). For the first time since that phone call, the knot in Derek’s chest loosened.
The road from Vegas had been long and uncertain, but sitting here in her messy little apartment, trading insults and deciding between deep dish and thin crust, it already felt worth it.
---
The pizza arrived faster than expected. Derek tipped the delivery kid generously from his fat Vegas wallet, then carried the boxes inside like they were treasure. The smell of melted cheese, pepperoni, and fresh basil filled Penny’s apartment, instantly making the place feel warmer and less lonely.
They settled on the couch with paper plates, the TV humming softly in the background with some mindless reality show neither of them was really watching. Derek took a massive bite of his slice and groaned in approval.
“Damn, this is good. Way better than the greasy cardboard they serve in Vegas.”
Penny smiled around her own bite, tucking her legs underneath her. For a few minutes they just ate in comfortable silence—the kind that only comes with family. Eventually she nudged his shoulder with her foot.
“So… you really just dropped everything and rode out here?”
Derek shrugged, wiping sauce from his fingers. “Pretty much. Your call sounded bad. Figured you needed me more than I needed another night at the tables.”
Penny studied him for a moment, then let out a long breath. “Alright, I guess it’s my turn to catch you up on my mess of a life.”
She gestured vaguely toward the wall that separated her apartment from the one next door. “I’ve got these neighbors. Total nerds, but… they’re actually really sweet. Leonard’s the short one with the glasses. He’s a physicist, super smart, and kind of has a crush on me. Then there’s Sheldon—don’t get me started on him. He’s a genius, but he’s also the most annoying, literal, schedule-obsessed person alive. Howard and Raj are the other two. Howard’s short, creepy with women, but harmless. Raj can’t talk to girls unless he’s drunk.”
Derek raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sounds like a sitcom waiting to happen.”
“Tell me about it,” Penny laughed softly. “They’ve kind of become my friends. They help me with stuff, I bring them food sometimes… it’s weird, but it works. They even got me into some of their nerdy stuff. Comic books, video games, Star Trek marathons…” She made a face. “I still don’t fully get it, but they’re good people.”
Derek nodded, filing the information away. He’d have to meet these guys soon.
“And the acting?” he asked carefully, grabbing another slice.
Penny’s shoulders slumped a little. She picked at a pepperoni. “Still chasing it. I go to auditions, I take classes when I can afford them… but it’s brutal out here. One callback for a hemorrhoid commercial doesn’t exactly pay the bills. I’m still at The Cheesecake Factory—waiting tables, smiling through twelve-hour shifts, dealing with rude customers and creepy managers. It’s not what I dreamed about when I left home, you know?”
She looked down at her plate. “Sometimes I wonder if you were right back then. Maybe this whole ‘move to LA and be an actress’ thing was just a stupid fantasy.”
Derek set his plate down and turned toward her fully. “Hey. I was an asshole when I said that. I was pissed you were leaving and taking all the risks I was too scared to take myself back then. You’re out here actually trying. That’s more than I’ve done back in the day.”
Penny gave him a grateful half-smile. “Your turn, then. What have you been doing since we last talked? Mom said you were bouncing around Nevada.”
Derek leaned back into the couch, nursing his second slice. “Yeah… drifting, mostly. Took that Business degree and did exactly nothing with it. Worked some warehouse jobs, bartended, dealt cards at a couple casinos. Mostly I’ve been living day by day. Winning some decent cash at poker tables when the cards were kind.” He patted his wallet with a smirk. “That’s where this came from. Had a lucky streak last week.”
He shrugged, voice casual but with an undercurrent of restlessness. “Sleep on friends’ couches, ride the Harley wherever the road takes me, crash in motels when I need to. Anything to avoid settling down, I guess.”
Penny raised an eyebrow, teasing. “So you’re basically a professional bum with good luck.”
“Pretty much, don't forget mentioning my good looks,” Derek admitted with a laugh. “Street-smart enough to get by, too smart for most bosses, not smart enough to build anything real. But I’m here now. No more drifting for a while. I’ve got your back, Pen.”
She reached over and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you came. Really. Even if you smell like road dust and cigarettes.”
“Hey, I showered this morning,” he protested, grinning. “Mostly.”
They both laughed, the tension from earlier easing further. The pizza boxes slowly emptied as they talked—Penny sharing funny stories about Sheldon’s ridiculous rules and Leonard’s awkward attempts at flirting, Derek recounting his worst casino stories and the time he almost got kicked out for arguing with a customer about why Revenge Of The Sith was the best movie ever made.
For the first time in a while, the apartment didn’t feel quite so empty to Penny.