Title: Knit One, Purl Two
Fandom: Drake and Josh (Drake/Josh...ish)
Notes: Oh man, this is ridiculously self-indulgent, but I noticed that Audrey knits a lot on the show and this sort of took over my brain. So, uh, self-indulgence. Yay! Also, the show is really contradictory and vague as far as ages go, so the difference between Megan and Drake is my best guess.
knit one
When Drake was five years old, his mother taught him to knit. She’d taken up the hobby during her first pregnancy, and from babyhood Drake had been fascinated by the rhythmic clacking of the needles and the softness of the yarn. Finally, Audrey had deemed Drake’s fingers dexterous enough to manage needles of his own. Luckily, this coincided with the last month or so of her second pregnancy, when she had little mobility but ample time to sit through a kindergartener’s frustration with slippery yarn and unwieldy needles.
The knitting lessons came in handy when Megan was born and Audrey’s time was mostly taken up with the new baby. Drake would sit quietly on the couch, feet dangling six inches off the floor and the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Clunky wooden needles slid back and forth, stitch after painstaking stitch, soft boyish voice counting aloud after every row to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake.
Drake’s first completed square of fabric was proudly presented to his new baby sister - not quite so new by the time it was finished - who promptly crammed as much of it as possible into her mouth. Drake, who had enough experience with his baby sister to know that sticking something in her mouth was her highest sign of approval, was thrilled. The square stayed in Megan’s crib, as beloved as any store-bought blankie, until it was tragically lost three years later somewhere between home and preschool.
Drake, meanwhile, became preoccupied with becoming the fifth ninja turtle soon after finishing the square, and his fascination with knitting was forgotten.
purl two
When Josh unpacked his suitcases in his brand-new dorm at his brand-new college, he found a lumpy, soft package tucked between his CDs and his underwear. Beneath the wrinkled gift wrap and what looked like at least half a roll of Scotch tape, he found a scarf.
Josh had been the recipient of enough hats, sweaters, and socks from Audrey to recognize a hand-knit when he saw one. This one, however, was not Audrey-made, or if it was she was seriously off her game. It was lumpy and uneven, with some stitches loose and lacey and others as tight as a row of clenched fists. There were gaps where stitches had been dropped, and one end was decidedly wider than the other. The last few inches had been knit in a slightly different shade of blue and, from the feel of it, a different kind of yarn - all of which was unnecessary, as the scarf itself was a good seven feet long, and Josh had to wrap it around his neck three times to keep it from getting tangled up in his legs.
When he unfolded it, a Post-It fluttered to the ground. There was writing on it, cramped and forward-slanted: Thouht you could use this. I hear New England winters get cold.
It was ugly and ungainly, but Josh wore the scarf every day that winter.