Fic: When the Music Stops - ...Not White Wedding Tragedies (13b/?, Drake & Josh, NC-17, Drake/Josh )
Title: When The Music Stops
Chapter: 13b/?
Series: Drake & Josh
Author: dancinbutterfly
Pairing: Drake/Josh
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe. Its a really light NC-17 though
Warnings: Slashy stepbrothers.
Disclaimer: I don't own Drake & Josh or Drake or Josh. *sigh* Sad. I do not own any of the lyrics used either. I just have them on my ipod. I own all original characters though.
A/N: The inspiration for the location of this chapter is the Paradise Point Resort. If you want to see it, just click the link. Also for those who are curious this is my original inspiration for Sam.
Dedications: This is for the usual suspects. You ten odd readers who review EVERY time, I love you dearly and this story is totally and completely for you guys.
Beta: Faithfully assisted by guest_age
Feedback: Pretty please? Its a new fandom to me and I want to know what you all think.
Summary: Music or medicine, Drake and Josh have many skills. After ten years of estrangement, they've learned a few things about those skills. Taking care of himself isn't one of Drake's. Letting go of Drake isn't one of Josh's.
All chapters here
Chapter 13b: ...Not White Wedding Tragedies
Come on, it's a nice day for a white wedding
Josh was a fan of weddings. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t to gone it to all that many. Of those, the most memorable one was Great Aunt Catherine’s, which he never made it to. She was more than a hundred years old, and she still hadn’t died yet. That fact that his family didn’t have her beach house still made him a little sad.
But this one was the most beautiful he’d ever made it to. Josh had never been to a Jewish wedding before. It was gorgeous really, all the symbolism and fluid tones of a Semitic language. Sam squeezed his hand as his eyes watered, and Josh squeezed back.
“It’s just so lovely,” Josh whispered, leaning over to talk directly into his partner’s ear. “I don’t understand a thing they’re saying, but it‘s beautiful.”
Sam kissed his cheek. “These are blessings,” he said softly. “The actual marriage is a contract that’s signed privately with the rabbi beforehand, like any civil ceremony. They sign the ketubah, and they’re technically married before we ever see them. "
Josh chuckled and wiped his eyes with his free hand. Mindy had to love that. She was all about procedure and double-checking everything. Getting married before getting married sounded like something she’d love.
“How do you know that?” Josh asked, his eyes locked ahead on Mindy, who was a vision in white beneath the chupa with Eric.
“I was a religion minor, remember? I wasn’t always a boring business man. I was once cool.”
“Please,” Josh hissed out of the side of his mouth. “You speak Klingon. Fluently. You were never cool.”
Sam muffled his laugh and leaned his head on Josh’s shoulder. Josh sighed and wiped away fresh tears as the thought of following Mindy and Eric’s example with Sam one day blew through his mind on the bay breeze.
~*~*~
Oh, well imagine, as I’m pacing the pews in a church corridor
Drake had a mammoth hang over. When he’d woken up, he’d still been drunk, but by afternoon, the buzz had faded to a raging headache and he’d had to excuse himself from the wedding party, making a beeline for the seats set out for the ceremony that evening.
He’d parked himself in his seat, sunglasses firmly in place, hours before the seven o’clock service, and caught a four-hour nap. A poke in the side from the disapproving guest beside him had alerted him to the start of the service. It was a good thing, too, or he’d have slept through the whole thing. He would have rather slept if he could have, because the service seemed to drag on forever and was in Hebrew for God’s sake.
He occupied himself by glancing around the crowd. He was pretty close to the front and off to the far left, so looking back over his right shoulder, he could see most of the guests.
Josh and Sam where five rows back. Josh looked believable in one of the yarmulkes that all the men in present were wearing but Sam, who couldn’t have been a bigger WASP if he’d been trying, looked like an idiot. But they were sitting close together, their shoulders touching, their faces forward.
Mindy had been Josh’s first girlfriend, his first anything, as far as Drake knew. Drake wondered if her marrying someone else bothered Josh even a tiny bit as much as seeing Josh all snuggly with his pasty boyfriend did Drake.
He doubted it. Drake wished he did, though.
Drake glanced forward again, and his eyes fell on Craig. He looked ready to faint or hurl, his arms stretched over his head, helping to hold up that at weird piece of cloth with Eric’s and Mindy’s fathers and her younger brother. It was probably the heat and the strain making him look like that.
Drake didn’t stand up with everyone else and cheer when Eric stepped on the glass. He just watched him and Mindy kiss under the canopy from his seat.
He’d never been a fan of weddings.
~*~*~
Hey little sister what have you done? Hey little sister who's the only one?
There were some occasions for which mind-altering substances were necessary. The Crenshaw/Blonnowtiz wedding reception was one of them. Drake had ducked into to the men’s room in need of a line four times already, and they hadn’t taken away the salad plates yet.
Of course, the others seated at his table didn’t seem to notice or care. Then again, oldest person next to him at table 35 was newly bar mitzvah-ed, and hadn’t started shaving yet. He and his cousins were more concerned with demanding details about every famous person Drake had ever met.
Drake normally liked kids. Hell, he loved kids. But there was a five-year-old girl in the chair next to him, who had tried to climb into his lap when he first sat down, and he’d nearly lost it completely.
He’d spent as much time washing the tears off his face as getting high the first time he’d ducked into the bathroom.
Beyond that, Drake really was doing his best to deal with the prison sentence that was the kiddie table. And as nice as was to be, debatably, the smartest person at the table, there really was only so many questions, pokes, flying food, and other childish behaviors a man could take. And Drake’s tolerance for emotional torture was running low. Maybe if Jaynelle hadn’t…if…if things were different, then maybe it would be easier to deal.
But as it stood, he was pain managing, and poorly. He was flying a little too high and fast, which meant that he’d be twitchier and more hyper than his young companions in a minute if he didn’t counter manage. So he excused himself, again, and this time made for the bar.
“A screwdriver, please.” He gave the bartender a brittle, jittery smile. “Vitamin C does a body good.” She laughed and sighed, pulling out the Absolut.
“And what can I get for you, sir?” she asked as she set to work on the screwdriver, and Drake was confused for a moment. But a voice beside him cleared up the disorientation.
“Whatever. In a shot glass.”
Drake sighed and clapped the man beside him on the back. “He wants vodka. Tequila’d probably do you better, but its hard to get away with tequila at a wedding.”
“Tequila it is then,” Craig said bitterly. “Can I just have the whole bottle?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow as she set Drake’s drink down in front of him. She gave Craig a gentle look.
“No.”
“Then I’d like tequila in a beer glass please. With a shot glass on the side.”
She sighed and nodded. It wasn’t her job to judge, it was her job to serve. Drake watched her set the large glass on the table, brimming with piss-yellow liquor, and a shot glass upside down beside it. Craig mumbled a thank you, before taking both glasses and heading out of the banquet hall.
Craig couldn’t handle that alone, no matter how messed up he wanted to get. He’d probably stumble into the ocean and drown. If the body washed ashore and Mindy, Eric, Josh, and Megan found out Drake had just let him go, he’d be in seriously deep shit.
Drake sighed heavily, grabbed some hors d'oeuvres off the nearest buffet table for later and followed him. He consoled himself with the fact that this was better than going back to the kids table. But dealing with the paparazzi was better than going back to the kids table, so that hardly spoke well of Craig.
He found Craig outside, where the wedding service had been held an hour earlier. He was sitting on the grass, his back to Drake and facing towards the water. He cleared his throat so that there wouldn’t be a nerd-induced spill when he sat down.
Craig didn’t even look up.
“You know you’re not supposed to drink alone,” Drake said, settling down beside him with his screwdriver. He bent his legs up and rested the drink on one knee, and drummed his fingers on the other. He was buzzed and a good buzz was not conducive to sitting still.
Craig shrugged. “So?”
“I’m just saying. It’s not nice not to share.”
“When have you ever shared anything in your life, Drake?”
“I shared a room with Josh for, like, five years.”
Craig snorted as he carefully poured a shot from the beer glass into the shot glass. “Right. That worked out brilliantly for you. Can you please leave?” he asked moments before tossing back the shot. Drake winced as he coughed and choked. The guy was a serious lightweight.
“You’re supposed to do that with salt and lime.”
Craig shrugged him off. “You’d know.”
“Yeah, I would. But you wouldn’t. Have you ever gotten drunk before yesterday?”
Craig sighed, his whole body drooping visibly. It was disturbing. It was kind of sad, actually.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting very, very drunk,” Craig said slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child. And then, as if to illustrate his point, he poured another shot from that beer glass. A little spilled on the ground this time.
“Yeah I can see that,” Drake replied dryly, watching as Craig took another sputtering shot. “But why? Nerds don’t get trashed. ”
Craig pressed the now empty shot glass against his chin and stared at Drake for a long moment. It wasn’t like the probing stares photographers gave him, it was more like Dana or Ellen’s looks, measuring and grading.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I followed you out here to watch you get shitfaced and miss the prime rib, didn’t I? Of course seriously.”
“I am getting very, very drunk because you and I are in the same boat, Drake.”
“We’re not in a boat,” Drake said, unable to resist pointing out the obvious.
“Yes we are,” Craig said, waving the shot glass at him now. “We’re in the same boat up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“What?”
Craig set the shot glass down and reached for the beer glass. He took a drink straight from there this time. It was a little weird to see, but he choked less this time. Drake noticed that his voice was already starting to slur, though.
“I just can’t.”
“Craig, you lost me at the boat,” Drake said carefully.
Even drunk, Craig was brighter than Drake. He just shook his head and hunched further.
“I have this speech,” Craig said softly. “The best man speech, you know? I’ve been working on it since they told me they were getting married. It’s awful.”
“So…you thought getting drunk would help you revise it?”
Craig laughed, but the sound was off in Drake’s ears somehow. And Drake couldn’t tell if his altered perception was from the blow, the booze, or the boy.
“Something like that.”
Drake nodded. He could relate to that. He’d written his entire third album on X, and pharmaceuticals had helped push him out of writers block on more than one occasion. Alcohol just wasn’t his typical choice. He used it to counter uppers, more often than not. But hey, to each their own. He wasn’t one to judge.
“Is it working?”
Craig shook his head again. “It’s shit.”
“I’m sure its not.”
“It’s generic greeting card crap,” Craig mumbled sadly. “He’s been there since we were Seven years old, Drake. Seven years old. That’s basically my whole life. And now he’s….It’s just not right. It’s not right.”
Drake reached out a hand and carefully placed it on Craig’s shoulder. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in either. He was awful at the whole comforting thing. But he was getting better at this, so that was something, wasn’t it?
“You’ll get it right, man. I can help you if you want,” Drake offered. “I write for a living, you know?”
Craig shook his head and took another drink of tequila. He seemed bound and determined to drink the whole thing, even if it killed him. So when he finished the dose, which was the only thing to call it because Craig drank it like it was medicine, Drake removed the glass from his hand took a few long, painful gulps. Because he was supposed to be a friend. And friends kept friends from giving themselves alcohol poisoning.
Even if tequila was a disgusting drink designed by impervious Mexicans to torture idiotic gringos. Drake’s repulsed face at least got a small laugh at out of Craig as he took the glass out of Drake’s hand.
“You gonna go back in soon?”
Craig nodded. “I’m the best man. I have to. Speeches to give, cake to eat, arcane rituals to participate in.” He gave a wavering smile. “You can sit in my seat, if you want, while I’m out here. I’m not hungry, and they’re not serving the filet at the kid’s table.”
“Bet Mindy’ll love that.” Drake laughed.
“Mindy can deal,” Craig bit out. “Go. Eat. I’ll see you in there later okay?”
“You sure? It’s not really smart to drink on an empty stomach.”
Craig nodded and gave another smile. Drake had given enough smiles like that to know instantly, high and tipsy though he was, that it was a fake.
“Yeah. I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”
~*~*~
Well this calls for a toast so pour the champagne, pour the champagne
“Which comes first, the cake or the speeches?” Josh asked the table at large as the dinner plates were cleared away by tuxedo-clad waiters.
“I’m hoping cake,” Sam said wryly. “Not that I don’t love a good speech, but I’m here for the cake.”
Mindy’s cousin Chad, seated next to Josh, laughed. “Aren’t we all?”
“I don’t know,” Josh replied. “As long as I don’t have to give it, I like speeches.”
“Not a big public speaker?” Chad asked.
“I sweat,” Josh said flatly. “And twitch. It’s horrifying for me and everyone watching.”
Sam smiled. “I think it’s cute. I sat in on that presentation you gave your last year of med school. Your eye tick is sexy.”
“You don’t think that,” Josh muttered. “You just say that so I’ll sleep with you.”
“You’d do that anyway. I’m irresistible,” Sam said smugly, much to the amusement of Chad and the others who hadn’t left the table to mingle, which was two more of Mindy’s cousins and one of her sorority sisters.
Josh rolled his eyes and took a sip of one of the many glasses of champagne that littered the tables. “Not if ya keep pushin’ me, Don Juan.”
Chad laughed. “Why don’t you two get married, already?”
“Canada’s too cold,” Sam said, smoothly deflecting the question. It was good, because Josh was very busy choking on his champagne.
“Josh? Are you okay?” Chad asked, and Josh nodded, trying to catch his breath.
“Yeah. Just, yeah.” He coughed again and cleared his throat. “Fine. Bubbles down the wrong pipe.”
Sam chuckled. “It happens to Josh more often than you’d think.”
“Says the guy who can’t handle a simple thing like eating grapefruit.”
“Hey, the juice is highly acidic, and it sprays really far.”
Josh had a comeback prepared, one that would be both scathing and funny and maybe even address the whole marriage thing, probably not but maybe, when the sound of metal clicking on crystal called to the entire reception hall.
Chad reached for a glass as the room fell quiet. “So, I’m gonna go out on a limb, and say speeches before cake.”
“You could be right,” Josh replied softly.
Mindy’s dad went first. Josh remembered the day when he’d watched that man get wrestled to the ground by his wife, recalled the numerous dinners eaten under his scrutiny, was glad that it was Eric up at the main table next to her, not him. Mr. Crenshaw made more than a few of the jokes about Mindy’s conversion to Judaism, and it left the assembled party wincing. It was sensitive, obviously, and Josh was torn between wanting to sink into his chair from embarrassment, and sigh from the parental love by the time the speech was over.
Mindy’s maid of honor, a pretty girl named Belinda, did better. She was Mindy’s best friend from college, all though she couldn’t have been more different. She had a tapestry of bright tattoos that were shown off by her bridesmaid’s dress, and her concession to conventionality was to make sure that all her piercings (over a dozen in her ears, with a nose ring to match) went with the dress. But she was smart, funny, and well-spoken, and Josh would bet that they’d had a lot of fun back in the day. She talked about her and Mindy’s first meeting, an anecdote involving a fire extinguisher, a scuba diver, and a disagreement over a parking space that left the whole party in stitches. She sobered as he spoke about how she’d watched Eric and Mindy’s relationship grow, and how she couldn’t think of a better match.
Mindy and Eric kissed at that, and another toast was raised. And then Craig rose, swaying slightly. He braced his right hand on the back of his chair, and his left held a champagne glass a little too tightly. He looked awful.
“Is he okay?” Sam whispered.
Josh waved him off, his eyes locked on Craig. Something wasn’t right. He just wasn’t sure what.
Craig cleared his throat, and the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Eric-“ Craig started but he stopped abruptly, taking a sip of his champagne before starting again. “I’ve been friends with Eric since the first grade. Best friends. And I, uh, I can honestly say I never could have imagined this night.” He waved his glass in the direction of the newlyweds, a mere two feet away from him. “I remember back in high school, when Josh, Josh Nichols started dating Mindy.” He laughed and turned to Mindy. “God, Drake hated you.”
There was a stir of laughter, but Josh felt something nasty coiling in his stomach that the mention of that name. He glanced around the hall and spotted Drake, his jacket gone, the sleeves of his tuxedo shirt rolled up, leaning against a wall near the door. He had a drink in his hand, and his eyes, like everyone else’s, were locked on Craig.
“But that didn’t stop you from dating him. One of the things I’ve learned over the years, is that nothing can stop you, Mindy. Nothing ever has, and that’s one of your best qualities.” Craig gave a smile that almost pasted as cheerful. “You can do anything, and if you’d asked me back in high school where I thought Mindy Crenshaw would end up, I’d have said NASA, maybe a brain trust in DC, married to the prince of Saudi Arabia, or in a bid for the senate. She’s an…an incredible woman.” Craig licked his lips nervously. “So, um, I can’t really blame her for going after a guy who’s as great as she is.”
“Eric is…I already said that he’s my best friend,” Craig said and he glanced down at Eric who, without his glasses, looked more mature than Josh had ever seen him. Josh watched, transfixed, as Craig’s face and voice softened. “And you are. You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I’ve spent most of my life with you, Eric and I can’t-“
Craig’s voice cracked like glass. No one moved. No one spoke. No one even breathed as they waited.
It was the longest ten seconds anyone present had ever experienced.
“I can’t- I can’t… imagine anyone else I would have rather have shared that with,” Craig said brokenly. “I love you, Eric.” Craig raised his champagne glass, his tears visible even from across the room. “I always have, and I always will.” He gave a tortured parody of a smile as he tipped his glass in the couple’s direction. “Be happy.”
The stunned silence continued as Craig downed the champagne, and then took off out of the reception hall. The second he was gone, the room exploded with conversation. Josh heard none of it, his eyes locked on Eric and Mindy, who were talking animatedly with each other, no doubt quickly debating what the hell they should do.
He watched Eric move to stand, and tore off after his old friend before the decision to do so even consciously registered. It didn’t even occur to him, as he headed out of the hall, that Drake was no longer standing by the door.
~*~*~
I chime in with a “Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?”
That had been…interesting, was the first word that came to mind, but it wasn’t the right one.
Drake was the closest when Craig made his escape, but that didn’t really explain why he’d followed Craig into the bathroom and bolted the door behind them.
He was awful at helping, really, it was not one of his many talents. But he couldn't just leave the poor guy.
“Craig, what the hell, man?”
Craig was braced on the sink, pulling in great sobbing gasps of air. Drake watched, horrified, as tears dripped off his face and into the sink. He was going to make himself sick if he didn’t chill out a little.
Drake caught him by the shoulders and turned him around so that Craig didn’t have to look at his red, heartbroken face in the mirror anymore.
“Craig, man, come on.”
But Craig didn’t come on. He collapsed onto Drake’s chest, his fists bunching in the fabric of his shirt, his sobs shaking Drake’s entire body. Which was definitely weird, an 11 on a scale of 10.
“Dude,” Drake said softly, unsure what to do with himself, with his hands or his brain. He was more than a little drunk, and more than a little high, and more than a little out of his depth on this. “It’ll be okay.”
“How?” Craig choked, his face pressed desperate and wet against Drake’s shoulder. “Tell me, Drake. How do you make the love of your life marrying someone else okay? You seem to know. How do you make that okay?”
Drake rocked backwards like he’d hit. His mouth had gone dry, and his voice had gone mute because honestly, he had no idea. He’d been self-medicating that pain away for five years. Who the fuck was he to help Craig? He couldn't even help himself.
“It just does,” he said hoarsely.
“You’re a fucking liar.” Craig hiccupped. “You’ve always been a fucking liar, Drake. Since we were kids.”
Drake shrugged and finally settled on wrapping his arms around Craig. It was awkward but Craig sagged into the contact.
“Yeah. But you knew that.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”
Craig finally lifted his head. His eyes and nose were red, his cheeks were wet, and he looked…broken. It was breathtaking actually, the way Craig’s outsides matched Drake’s insides.
“Yeah. Not much, but it’s better than nothing,” Craig mumbled, wedging arm up between them to wipe off his face.
“Are you okay?” Drake asked softly.
“No.”
“Can I help? I mean, I suck at helping, but I can try.”
Craig was shorter than him. About two inches shorter and thinner. Wasn’t that big a difference, but he seemed so small to Drake at that moment. Small and fragile, Drake decided, as Craig looked at him with sad, green eyes.
“Make me forget.”
“How?” Drake asked softly. He knew all about wanting to forget. He’d spent enough hours on it, he could have a degree by now.
“I don’t care.” Craig laughed and shook his head. A fresh tear rolled down his face, making an uneasy path towards his lips.
Drake went with impulse. He’d always been the type to follow his gut, and his instincts led him to duck his head and take that twisted mouth in his. Drake forgot, as Craig’s hands tore at his shirt, that the man he was kissing was the same one who’d hid in a dumpster back in 11th grade. Because he tasted like salt and a sadness that Drake could actually understand and empathize with.
They stumbled backwards together until Drake collided with the door. Drake’s shoulders radiated with pain, but that was good. Pain was great, because pain was a feeling that wasn’t this gaping emptiness he’d been working so hard to ignore, the same one he felt reflected back to him in the desperation of Craig’s pawing.
This wasn’t about comfort, or friendship, or even getting off, really. It was about being somewhere else in their own heads, even if it was only for a few minutes.
Drake had no idea how they got out of their clothes. It was a blur. But skin on skin was a sensation as sharp as a smack. Craig had longer fingernails than any guy Drake hand ever been with, and they tore at him, even as he did his best to give them both what the needed.
Craig didn’t have much experience, that much was obvious, but he was probably the loudest person Drake had ever been with. He bit, and scratched, and sobbed, and groaned, and bucked, and burned. He was the Surround Craig Experience.
Drake came seconds behind him, sensation driving him to dig his hands deep enough into Craig’s hips to leave bruises. It was some of the best sex he’d ever had, honestly, and wasn’t that funny? In fact at one point, he’d thought he’d felt the door actually move behind him.
He laughed a little at the thought, barely conscious as Craig already began pulling away.
“Jesus,” Drake breathed, his full weight braced against the door.
Craig was putting his clothes back on already, the collar of his shirt going miles to hide the bite marks.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Listen, Drake, I’m sorry.”
Drake blinked at him. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have…used you like that.” Craig looked awkward again, transformed magically back into a nerdy toad with a kiss.
Drake shook his head. “Use away. I’m fine with the using.”
Craig shook his head. “It’s not right, and it doesn’t fix anything.”
“It wasn’t supposed to,” Drake sighed. “This never fixes anything, Craig. Sex? It fucks things up. Doesn’t make it wrong, though.”
Craig chuckled, and that was good. That was progress. “Never let it be said that you’re a slave to logic.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what now?”
Drake shrugged. “Now I’m going to wait until my arms and legs work again, and then I’m going to get dressed. Then, I’m going to probably do a line, and then I’m going to have cake,” he said sagely. “The sex was great and all, but I’m really here for the cake.”
“You came 200 miles for cake?”
“Yep.”
Craig studied him for a minute. “So…the line. What would this be a line of?”
Drake made a ‘you cant be serious’ face as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t ready to lean down and pull up his pants just yet.
“Coke.”
Craig’s eyes went wide. “Cocaine?”
“That’s what it’s short for.”
“Seriously? I've never seen real cocaine before. You actually have it?”
“I’m a freaking rock star, Craig,” Drake said drolly. “What do you think?”
“Right. I forgot.” He tilted his head. “What’s it like?”
Drake shrugged. “It makes you think you’re having a great time.”
“Even if you’re not?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can I -“
Drake shook his head. “Not if you’re gonna react to the blow like you did to the sex.”
“I won’t. I promise. I just…I have to be able to get through the rest of tonight, Drake.” Again with the big, green eyes. What the hell was up with that, anyway? “I can’t watch them. You have to understand.”
And Drake did. He understood perfectly. So with a long suffering sigh, he pulled up his pants and fished the baggie out of his pocket.
~*~*~
There is nothin' safe in this world. And there's nothin' sure in this world. And there's nothin' pure in this world
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Drake.”
He was way too fucked up to be having this conversation, here and now, at the dessert table, with Sam, fucking Sam, of all people.
“What?”
“He heard you,” Sam said as he picked up a puff pastry and set it carefully on his plate. Drake stood transfixed by the chocolate fountain.
“Who heard me what?” he asked vacantly. He wasn’t not going to look at Sam. Because Sam’s face would swim and turn into the face of that surfer he’d hooked up with when he was doing that concert in Honolulu.
“Josh. Josh heard you in the bathroom, fucking one of his friends while he, the groom and half the wedding party scoured the property for him.”
Drake tore his gaze from the bubbling rhythm of the fountain, and turned his eyes to stare at Sam, who was collecting a piece of cake now.
“Huh?”
Sam shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. That guy, Craig, was hurting, Drake. A blind man could see it. Why not you? He was hurting, and you took advantage of him!”
“I did see it.”
“Yeah, and you used it to fuck him. That’s great.”
Drake face contorted in a look of disbelief. What the hell business was it of Sam's who the hell he fucked, when, and where?
“Aren’t you with Josh?”
“Don’t mess with me, Parker,” Sam said calmly, but his color rose, and Drake laughed. He was actually getting angry. He’d never seen Sam angry before.
“I’m serious. You’ve got Josh. You win. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that every time you’re around, you find new and exciting ways to hurt Josh.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Come on. I slept with a friend from high school. It happens at these things. Get over it. Josh can get over it too. It’s my life and my business.”
“When you hurt Josh, it becomes my business.”
Drake shook his head. “I don’t know if you noticed this, but Josh is twenty-six year old man. He doesn't need you to fight his battles for him. He’s a grown up, and if he’s got a problem with me, he can say something.”
“Yeah,” Sam said harshly, “But he won’t. You saw to that.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Drake spat and turned to walk away angrily. He missed the mark, tripped over his own feet and fell.
Landing face first in the chocolate fountain was the deciding factor. He would have liked to have believed that it was that one incident that tipped the scales, but Mindy shouting at him as Eric, Mindy's cousin Chad, and Sam-of course it had to be fucking Sam-dragged him out of the reception, told him otherwise.
Him making that mess wasn’t what got him kicked out of the Blonnowitz/Crenshaw wedding. It had a lot more to do with fucking and enabling drug use with the best man. But whenever he told the story, he kept the emphasis on the chocolate fountain.
To Be Continued... here
I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic!At the Disco
Oh, well imagine; as I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor,
And I can't help but to hear,
No I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.
"What a beautiful wedding!, What a beautiful wedding!"
Says a bridesmaid to a waiter.
"Ah yes, but what a shame, what a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore."
I chimed in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I chimed in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of hope.
Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way,
I mean technically our marriage is saved
Well this calls for, a toast so, pour the champagne,
Oh! Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way,
I mean technically our marriage is saved
Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne, pour the champagne.
I chimed in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I chimed in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
Again..
I'd chime in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!" No.
It's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I'd chime in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
Again..
White Wedding by Billy Idol
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who's the only one?
Hey little sister who's your superman?
Hey little sister who's the one you want?
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day for a white wedding.
It's a nice day to start again.
Hey little sister who is it you're with?
Hey little sister what's your vice and wish?
Hey little sister shot gun (oh yeah)
Hey little sister who's your superman?
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
(Pick it up)
Take me back home
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who's the only one?
I've been away for so long (so long)
I've been away for so long (so long)
I let you go for so long
It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start again
Come on
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day to start again
Chapter: 13b/?
Series: Drake & Josh
Author: dancinbutterfly
Pairing: Drake/Josh
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe. Its a really light NC-17 though
Warnings: Slashy stepbrothers.
Disclaimer: I don't own Drake & Josh or Drake or Josh. *sigh* Sad. I do not own any of the lyrics used either. I just have them on my ipod. I own all original characters though.
A/N: The inspiration for the location of this chapter is the Paradise Point Resort. If you want to see it, just click the link. Also for those who are curious this is my original inspiration for Sam.
Dedications: This is for the usual suspects. You ten odd readers who review EVERY time, I love you dearly and this story is totally and completely for you guys.
Beta: Faithfully assisted by guest_age
Feedback: Pretty please? Its a new fandom to me and I want to know what you all think.
Summary: Music or medicine, Drake and Josh have many skills. After ten years of estrangement, they've learned a few things about those skills. Taking care of himself isn't one of Drake's. Letting go of Drake isn't one of Josh's.
All chapters here
Chapter 13b: ...Not White Wedding Tragedies
Come on, it's a nice day for a white wedding
Josh was a fan of weddings. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t to gone it to all that many. Of those, the most memorable one was Great Aunt Catherine’s, which he never made it to. She was more than a hundred years old, and she still hadn’t died yet. That fact that his family didn’t have her beach house still made him a little sad.
But this one was the most beautiful he’d ever made it to. Josh had never been to a Jewish wedding before. It was gorgeous really, all the symbolism and fluid tones of a Semitic language. Sam squeezed his hand as his eyes watered, and Josh squeezed back.
“It’s just so lovely,” Josh whispered, leaning over to talk directly into his partner’s ear. “I don’t understand a thing they’re saying, but it‘s beautiful.”
Sam kissed his cheek. “These are blessings,” he said softly. “The actual marriage is a contract that’s signed privately with the rabbi beforehand, like any civil ceremony. They sign the ketubah, and they’re technically married before we ever see them. "
Josh chuckled and wiped his eyes with his free hand. Mindy had to love that. She was all about procedure and double-checking everything. Getting married before getting married sounded like something she’d love.
“How do you know that?” Josh asked, his eyes locked ahead on Mindy, who was a vision in white beneath the chupa with Eric.
“I was a religion minor, remember? I wasn’t always a boring business man. I was once cool.”
“Please,” Josh hissed out of the side of his mouth. “You speak Klingon. Fluently. You were never cool.”
Sam muffled his laugh and leaned his head on Josh’s shoulder. Josh sighed and wiped away fresh tears as the thought of following Mindy and Eric’s example with Sam one day blew through his mind on the bay breeze.
~*~*~
Oh, well imagine, as I’m pacing the pews in a church corridor
Drake had a mammoth hang over. When he’d woken up, he’d still been drunk, but by afternoon, the buzz had faded to a raging headache and he’d had to excuse himself from the wedding party, making a beeline for the seats set out for the ceremony that evening.
He’d parked himself in his seat, sunglasses firmly in place, hours before the seven o’clock service, and caught a four-hour nap. A poke in the side from the disapproving guest beside him had alerted him to the start of the service. It was a good thing, too, or he’d have slept through the whole thing. He would have rather slept if he could have, because the service seemed to drag on forever and was in Hebrew for God’s sake.
He occupied himself by glancing around the crowd. He was pretty close to the front and off to the far left, so looking back over his right shoulder, he could see most of the guests.
Josh and Sam where five rows back. Josh looked believable in one of the yarmulkes that all the men in present were wearing but Sam, who couldn’t have been a bigger WASP if he’d been trying, looked like an idiot. But they were sitting close together, their shoulders touching, their faces forward.
Mindy had been Josh’s first girlfriend, his first anything, as far as Drake knew. Drake wondered if her marrying someone else bothered Josh even a tiny bit as much as seeing Josh all snuggly with his pasty boyfriend did Drake.
He doubted it. Drake wished he did, though.
Drake glanced forward again, and his eyes fell on Craig. He looked ready to faint or hurl, his arms stretched over his head, helping to hold up that at weird piece of cloth with Eric’s and Mindy’s fathers and her younger brother. It was probably the heat and the strain making him look like that.
Drake didn’t stand up with everyone else and cheer when Eric stepped on the glass. He just watched him and Mindy kiss under the canopy from his seat.
He’d never been a fan of weddings.
~*~*~
Hey little sister what have you done? Hey little sister who's the only one?
There were some occasions for which mind-altering substances were necessary. The Crenshaw/Blonnowtiz wedding reception was one of them. Drake had ducked into to the men’s room in need of a line four times already, and they hadn’t taken away the salad plates yet.
Of course, the others seated at his table didn’t seem to notice or care. Then again, oldest person next to him at table 35 was newly bar mitzvah-ed, and hadn’t started shaving yet. He and his cousins were more concerned with demanding details about every famous person Drake had ever met.
Drake normally liked kids. Hell, he loved kids. But there was a five-year-old girl in the chair next to him, who had tried to climb into his lap when he first sat down, and he’d nearly lost it completely.
He’d spent as much time washing the tears off his face as getting high the first time he’d ducked into the bathroom.
Beyond that, Drake really was doing his best to deal with the prison sentence that was the kiddie table. And as nice as was to be, debatably, the smartest person at the table, there really was only so many questions, pokes, flying food, and other childish behaviors a man could take. And Drake’s tolerance for emotional torture was running low. Maybe if Jaynelle hadn’t…if…if things were different, then maybe it would be easier to deal.
But as it stood, he was pain managing, and poorly. He was flying a little too high and fast, which meant that he’d be twitchier and more hyper than his young companions in a minute if he didn’t counter manage. So he excused himself, again, and this time made for the bar.
“A screwdriver, please.” He gave the bartender a brittle, jittery smile. “Vitamin C does a body good.” She laughed and sighed, pulling out the Absolut.
“And what can I get for you, sir?” she asked as she set to work on the screwdriver, and Drake was confused for a moment. But a voice beside him cleared up the disorientation.
“Whatever. In a shot glass.”
Drake sighed and clapped the man beside him on the back. “He wants vodka. Tequila’d probably do you better, but its hard to get away with tequila at a wedding.”
“Tequila it is then,” Craig said bitterly. “Can I just have the whole bottle?”
The bartender raised an eyebrow as she set Drake’s drink down in front of him. She gave Craig a gentle look.
“No.”
“Then I’d like tequila in a beer glass please. With a shot glass on the side.”
She sighed and nodded. It wasn’t her job to judge, it was her job to serve. Drake watched her set the large glass on the table, brimming with piss-yellow liquor, and a shot glass upside down beside it. Craig mumbled a thank you, before taking both glasses and heading out of the banquet hall.
Craig couldn’t handle that alone, no matter how messed up he wanted to get. He’d probably stumble into the ocean and drown. If the body washed ashore and Mindy, Eric, Josh, and Megan found out Drake had just let him go, he’d be in seriously deep shit.
Drake sighed heavily, grabbed some hors d'oeuvres off the nearest buffet table for later and followed him. He consoled himself with the fact that this was better than going back to the kids table. But dealing with the paparazzi was better than going back to the kids table, so that hardly spoke well of Craig.
He found Craig outside, where the wedding service had been held an hour earlier. He was sitting on the grass, his back to Drake and facing towards the water. He cleared his throat so that there wouldn’t be a nerd-induced spill when he sat down.
Craig didn’t even look up.
“You know you’re not supposed to drink alone,” Drake said, settling down beside him with his screwdriver. He bent his legs up and rested the drink on one knee, and drummed his fingers on the other. He was buzzed and a good buzz was not conducive to sitting still.
Craig shrugged. “So?”
“I’m just saying. It’s not nice not to share.”
“When have you ever shared anything in your life, Drake?”
“I shared a room with Josh for, like, five years.”
Craig snorted as he carefully poured a shot from the beer glass into the shot glass. “Right. That worked out brilliantly for you. Can you please leave?” he asked moments before tossing back the shot. Drake winced as he coughed and choked. The guy was a serious lightweight.
“You’re supposed to do that with salt and lime.”
Craig shrugged him off. “You’d know.”
“Yeah, I would. But you wouldn’t. Have you ever gotten drunk before yesterday?”
Craig sighed, his whole body drooping visibly. It was disturbing. It was kind of sad, actually.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting very, very drunk,” Craig said slowly and clearly as if speaking to a child. And then, as if to illustrate his point, he poured another shot from that beer glass. A little spilled on the ground this time.
“Yeah I can see that,” Drake replied dryly, watching as Craig took another sputtering shot. “But why? Nerds don’t get trashed. ”
Craig pressed the now empty shot glass against his chin and stared at Drake for a long moment. It wasn’t like the probing stares photographers gave him, it was more like Dana or Ellen’s looks, measuring and grading.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I followed you out here to watch you get shitfaced and miss the prime rib, didn’t I? Of course seriously.”
“I am getting very, very drunk because you and I are in the same boat, Drake.”
“We’re not in a boat,” Drake said, unable to resist pointing out the obvious.
“Yes we are,” Craig said, waving the shot glass at him now. “We’re in the same boat up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“What?”
Craig set the shot glass down and reached for the beer glass. He took a drink straight from there this time. It was a little weird to see, but he choked less this time. Drake noticed that his voice was already starting to slur, though.
“I just can’t.”
“Craig, you lost me at the boat,” Drake said carefully.
Even drunk, Craig was brighter than Drake. He just shook his head and hunched further.
“I have this speech,” Craig said softly. “The best man speech, you know? I’ve been working on it since they told me they were getting married. It’s awful.”
“So…you thought getting drunk would help you revise it?”
Craig laughed, but the sound was off in Drake’s ears somehow. And Drake couldn’t tell if his altered perception was from the blow, the booze, or the boy.
“Something like that.”
Drake nodded. He could relate to that. He’d written his entire third album on X, and pharmaceuticals had helped push him out of writers block on more than one occasion. Alcohol just wasn’t his typical choice. He used it to counter uppers, more often than not. But hey, to each their own. He wasn’t one to judge.
“Is it working?”
Craig shook his head again. “It’s shit.”
“I’m sure its not.”
“It’s generic greeting card crap,” Craig mumbled sadly. “He’s been there since we were Seven years old, Drake. Seven years old. That’s basically my whole life. And now he’s….It’s just not right. It’s not right.”
Drake reached out a hand and carefully placed it on Craig’s shoulder. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in either. He was awful at the whole comforting thing. But he was getting better at this, so that was something, wasn’t it?
“You’ll get it right, man. I can help you if you want,” Drake offered. “I write for a living, you know?”
Craig shook his head and took another drink of tequila. He seemed bound and determined to drink the whole thing, even if it killed him. So when he finished the dose, which was the only thing to call it because Craig drank it like it was medicine, Drake removed the glass from his hand took a few long, painful gulps. Because he was supposed to be a friend. And friends kept friends from giving themselves alcohol poisoning.
Even if tequila was a disgusting drink designed by impervious Mexicans to torture idiotic gringos. Drake’s repulsed face at least got a small laugh at out of Craig as he took the glass out of Drake’s hand.
“You gonna go back in soon?”
Craig nodded. “I’m the best man. I have to. Speeches to give, cake to eat, arcane rituals to participate in.” He gave a wavering smile. “You can sit in my seat, if you want, while I’m out here. I’m not hungry, and they’re not serving the filet at the kid’s table.”
“Bet Mindy’ll love that.” Drake laughed.
“Mindy can deal,” Craig bit out. “Go. Eat. I’ll see you in there later okay?”
“You sure? It’s not really smart to drink on an empty stomach.”
Craig nodded and gave another smile. Drake had given enough smiles like that to know instantly, high and tipsy though he was, that it was a fake.
“Yeah. I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”
~*~*~
Well this calls for a toast so pour the champagne, pour the champagne
“Which comes first, the cake or the speeches?” Josh asked the table at large as the dinner plates were cleared away by tuxedo-clad waiters.
“I’m hoping cake,” Sam said wryly. “Not that I don’t love a good speech, but I’m here for the cake.”
Mindy’s cousin Chad, seated next to Josh, laughed. “Aren’t we all?”
“I don’t know,” Josh replied. “As long as I don’t have to give it, I like speeches.”
“Not a big public speaker?” Chad asked.
“I sweat,” Josh said flatly. “And twitch. It’s horrifying for me and everyone watching.”
Sam smiled. “I think it’s cute. I sat in on that presentation you gave your last year of med school. Your eye tick is sexy.”
“You don’t think that,” Josh muttered. “You just say that so I’ll sleep with you.”
“You’d do that anyway. I’m irresistible,” Sam said smugly, much to the amusement of Chad and the others who hadn’t left the table to mingle, which was two more of Mindy’s cousins and one of her sorority sisters.
Josh rolled his eyes and took a sip of one of the many glasses of champagne that littered the tables. “Not if ya keep pushin’ me, Don Juan.”
Chad laughed. “Why don’t you two get married, already?”
“Canada’s too cold,” Sam said, smoothly deflecting the question. It was good, because Josh was very busy choking on his champagne.
“Josh? Are you okay?” Chad asked, and Josh nodded, trying to catch his breath.
“Yeah. Just, yeah.” He coughed again and cleared his throat. “Fine. Bubbles down the wrong pipe.”
Sam chuckled. “It happens to Josh more often than you’d think.”
“Says the guy who can’t handle a simple thing like eating grapefruit.”
“Hey, the juice is highly acidic, and it sprays really far.”
Josh had a comeback prepared, one that would be both scathing and funny and maybe even address the whole marriage thing, probably not but maybe, when the sound of metal clicking on crystal called to the entire reception hall.
Chad reached for a glass as the room fell quiet. “So, I’m gonna go out on a limb, and say speeches before cake.”
“You could be right,” Josh replied softly.
Mindy’s dad went first. Josh remembered the day when he’d watched that man get wrestled to the ground by his wife, recalled the numerous dinners eaten under his scrutiny, was glad that it was Eric up at the main table next to her, not him. Mr. Crenshaw made more than a few of the jokes about Mindy’s conversion to Judaism, and it left the assembled party wincing. It was sensitive, obviously, and Josh was torn between wanting to sink into his chair from embarrassment, and sigh from the parental love by the time the speech was over.
Mindy’s maid of honor, a pretty girl named Belinda, did better. She was Mindy’s best friend from college, all though she couldn’t have been more different. She had a tapestry of bright tattoos that were shown off by her bridesmaid’s dress, and her concession to conventionality was to make sure that all her piercings (over a dozen in her ears, with a nose ring to match) went with the dress. But she was smart, funny, and well-spoken, and Josh would bet that they’d had a lot of fun back in the day. She talked about her and Mindy’s first meeting, an anecdote involving a fire extinguisher, a scuba diver, and a disagreement over a parking space that left the whole party in stitches. She sobered as he spoke about how she’d watched Eric and Mindy’s relationship grow, and how she couldn’t think of a better match.
Mindy and Eric kissed at that, and another toast was raised. And then Craig rose, swaying slightly. He braced his right hand on the back of his chair, and his left held a champagne glass a little too tightly. He looked awful.
“Is he okay?” Sam whispered.
Josh waved him off, his eyes locked on Craig. Something wasn’t right. He just wasn’t sure what.
Craig cleared his throat, and the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Eric-“ Craig started but he stopped abruptly, taking a sip of his champagne before starting again. “I’ve been friends with Eric since the first grade. Best friends. And I, uh, I can honestly say I never could have imagined this night.” He waved his glass in the direction of the newlyweds, a mere two feet away from him. “I remember back in high school, when Josh, Josh Nichols started dating Mindy.” He laughed and turned to Mindy. “God, Drake hated you.”
There was a stir of laughter, but Josh felt something nasty coiling in his stomach that the mention of that name. He glanced around the hall and spotted Drake, his jacket gone, the sleeves of his tuxedo shirt rolled up, leaning against a wall near the door. He had a drink in his hand, and his eyes, like everyone else’s, were locked on Craig.
“But that didn’t stop you from dating him. One of the things I’ve learned over the years, is that nothing can stop you, Mindy. Nothing ever has, and that’s one of your best qualities.” Craig gave a smile that almost pasted as cheerful. “You can do anything, and if you’d asked me back in high school where I thought Mindy Crenshaw would end up, I’d have said NASA, maybe a brain trust in DC, married to the prince of Saudi Arabia, or in a bid for the senate. She’s an…an incredible woman.” Craig licked his lips nervously. “So, um, I can’t really blame her for going after a guy who’s as great as she is.”
“Eric is…I already said that he’s my best friend,” Craig said and he glanced down at Eric who, without his glasses, looked more mature than Josh had ever seen him. Josh watched, transfixed, as Craig’s face and voice softened. “And you are. You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I’ve spent most of my life with you, Eric and I can’t-“
Craig’s voice cracked like glass. No one moved. No one spoke. No one even breathed as they waited.
It was the longest ten seconds anyone present had ever experienced.
“I can’t- I can’t… imagine anyone else I would have rather have shared that with,” Craig said brokenly. “I love you, Eric.” Craig raised his champagne glass, his tears visible even from across the room. “I always have, and I always will.” He gave a tortured parody of a smile as he tipped his glass in the couple’s direction. “Be happy.”
The stunned silence continued as Craig downed the champagne, and then took off out of the reception hall. The second he was gone, the room exploded with conversation. Josh heard none of it, his eyes locked on Eric and Mindy, who were talking animatedly with each other, no doubt quickly debating what the hell they should do.
He watched Eric move to stand, and tore off after his old friend before the decision to do so even consciously registered. It didn’t even occur to him, as he headed out of the hall, that Drake was no longer standing by the door.
~*~*~
I chime in with a “Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?”
That had been…interesting, was the first word that came to mind, but it wasn’t the right one.
Drake was the closest when Craig made his escape, but that didn’t really explain why he’d followed Craig into the bathroom and bolted the door behind them.
He was awful at helping, really, it was not one of his many talents. But he couldn't just leave the poor guy.
“Craig, what the hell, man?”
Craig was braced on the sink, pulling in great sobbing gasps of air. Drake watched, horrified, as tears dripped off his face and into the sink. He was going to make himself sick if he didn’t chill out a little.
Drake caught him by the shoulders and turned him around so that Craig didn’t have to look at his red, heartbroken face in the mirror anymore.
“Craig, man, come on.”
But Craig didn’t come on. He collapsed onto Drake’s chest, his fists bunching in the fabric of his shirt, his sobs shaking Drake’s entire body. Which was definitely weird, an 11 on a scale of 10.
“Dude,” Drake said softly, unsure what to do with himself, with his hands or his brain. He was more than a little drunk, and more than a little high, and more than a little out of his depth on this. “It’ll be okay.”
“How?” Craig choked, his face pressed desperate and wet against Drake’s shoulder. “Tell me, Drake. How do you make the love of your life marrying someone else okay? You seem to know. How do you make that okay?”
Drake rocked backwards like he’d hit. His mouth had gone dry, and his voice had gone mute because honestly, he had no idea. He’d been self-medicating that pain away for five years. Who the fuck was he to help Craig? He couldn't even help himself.
“It just does,” he said hoarsely.
“You’re a fucking liar.” Craig hiccupped. “You’ve always been a fucking liar, Drake. Since we were kids.”
Drake shrugged and finally settled on wrapping his arms around Craig. It was awkward but Craig sagged into the contact.
“Yeah. But you knew that.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”
Craig finally lifted his head. His eyes and nose were red, his cheeks were wet, and he looked…broken. It was breathtaking actually, the way Craig’s outsides matched Drake’s insides.
“Yeah. Not much, but it’s better than nothing,” Craig mumbled, wedging arm up between them to wipe off his face.
“Are you okay?” Drake asked softly.
“No.”
“Can I help? I mean, I suck at helping, but I can try.”
Craig was shorter than him. About two inches shorter and thinner. Wasn’t that big a difference, but he seemed so small to Drake at that moment. Small and fragile, Drake decided, as Craig looked at him with sad, green eyes.
“Make me forget.”
“How?” Drake asked softly. He knew all about wanting to forget. He’d spent enough hours on it, he could have a degree by now.
“I don’t care.” Craig laughed and shook his head. A fresh tear rolled down his face, making an uneasy path towards his lips.
Drake went with impulse. He’d always been the type to follow his gut, and his instincts led him to duck his head and take that twisted mouth in his. Drake forgot, as Craig’s hands tore at his shirt, that the man he was kissing was the same one who’d hid in a dumpster back in 11th grade. Because he tasted like salt and a sadness that Drake could actually understand and empathize with.
They stumbled backwards together until Drake collided with the door. Drake’s shoulders radiated with pain, but that was good. Pain was great, because pain was a feeling that wasn’t this gaping emptiness he’d been working so hard to ignore, the same one he felt reflected back to him in the desperation of Craig’s pawing.
This wasn’t about comfort, or friendship, or even getting off, really. It was about being somewhere else in their own heads, even if it was only for a few minutes.
Drake had no idea how they got out of their clothes. It was a blur. But skin on skin was a sensation as sharp as a smack. Craig had longer fingernails than any guy Drake hand ever been with, and they tore at him, even as he did his best to give them both what the needed.
Craig didn’t have much experience, that much was obvious, but he was probably the loudest person Drake had ever been with. He bit, and scratched, and sobbed, and groaned, and bucked, and burned. He was the Surround Craig Experience.
Drake came seconds behind him, sensation driving him to dig his hands deep enough into Craig’s hips to leave bruises. It was some of the best sex he’d ever had, honestly, and wasn’t that funny? In fact at one point, he’d thought he’d felt the door actually move behind him.
He laughed a little at the thought, barely conscious as Craig already began pulling away.
“Jesus,” Drake breathed, his full weight braced against the door.
Craig was putting his clothes back on already, the collar of his shirt going miles to hide the bite marks.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Listen, Drake, I’m sorry.”
Drake blinked at him. “Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have…used you like that.” Craig looked awkward again, transformed magically back into a nerdy toad with a kiss.
Drake shook his head. “Use away. I’m fine with the using.”
Craig shook his head. “It’s not right, and it doesn’t fix anything.”
“It wasn’t supposed to,” Drake sighed. “This never fixes anything, Craig. Sex? It fucks things up. Doesn’t make it wrong, though.”
Craig chuckled, and that was good. That was progress. “Never let it be said that you’re a slave to logic.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what now?”
Drake shrugged. “Now I’m going to wait until my arms and legs work again, and then I’m going to get dressed. Then, I’m going to probably do a line, and then I’m going to have cake,” he said sagely. “The sex was great and all, but I’m really here for the cake.”
“You came 200 miles for cake?”
“Yep.”
Craig studied him for a minute. “So…the line. What would this be a line of?”
Drake made a ‘you cant be serious’ face as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t ready to lean down and pull up his pants just yet.
“Coke.”
Craig’s eyes went wide. “Cocaine?”
“That’s what it’s short for.”
“Seriously? I've never seen real cocaine before. You actually have it?”
“I’m a freaking rock star, Craig,” Drake said drolly. “What do you think?”
“Right. I forgot.” He tilted his head. “What’s it like?”
Drake shrugged. “It makes you think you’re having a great time.”
“Even if you’re not?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can I -“
Drake shook his head. “Not if you’re gonna react to the blow like you did to the sex.”
“I won’t. I promise. I just…I have to be able to get through the rest of tonight, Drake.” Again with the big, green eyes. What the hell was up with that, anyway? “I can’t watch them. You have to understand.”
And Drake did. He understood perfectly. So with a long suffering sigh, he pulled up his pants and fished the baggie out of his pocket.
~*~*~
There is nothin' safe in this world. And there's nothin' sure in this world. And there's nothin' pure in this world
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Drake.”
He was way too fucked up to be having this conversation, here and now, at the dessert table, with Sam, fucking Sam, of all people.
“What?”
“He heard you,” Sam said as he picked up a puff pastry and set it carefully on his plate. Drake stood transfixed by the chocolate fountain.
“Who heard me what?” he asked vacantly. He wasn’t not going to look at Sam. Because Sam’s face would swim and turn into the face of that surfer he’d hooked up with when he was doing that concert in Honolulu.
“Josh. Josh heard you in the bathroom, fucking one of his friends while he, the groom and half the wedding party scoured the property for him.”
Drake tore his gaze from the bubbling rhythm of the fountain, and turned his eyes to stare at Sam, who was collecting a piece of cake now.
“Huh?”
Sam shook his head. “You’re unbelievable. That guy, Craig, was hurting, Drake. A blind man could see it. Why not you? He was hurting, and you took advantage of him!”
“I did see it.”
“Yeah, and you used it to fuck him. That’s great.”
Drake face contorted in a look of disbelief. What the hell business was it of Sam's who the hell he fucked, when, and where?
“Aren’t you with Josh?”
“Don’t mess with me, Parker,” Sam said calmly, but his color rose, and Drake laughed. He was actually getting angry. He’d never seen Sam angry before.
“I’m serious. You’ve got Josh. You win. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that every time you’re around, you find new and exciting ways to hurt Josh.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Come on. I slept with a friend from high school. It happens at these things. Get over it. Josh can get over it too. It’s my life and my business.”
“When you hurt Josh, it becomes my business.”
Drake shook his head. “I don’t know if you noticed this, but Josh is twenty-six year old man. He doesn't need you to fight his battles for him. He’s a grown up, and if he’s got a problem with me, he can say something.”
“Yeah,” Sam said harshly, “But he won’t. You saw to that.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Drake spat and turned to walk away angrily. He missed the mark, tripped over his own feet and fell.
Landing face first in the chocolate fountain was the deciding factor. He would have liked to have believed that it was that one incident that tipped the scales, but Mindy shouting at him as Eric, Mindy's cousin Chad, and Sam-of course it had to be fucking Sam-dragged him out of the reception, told him otherwise.
Him making that mess wasn’t what got him kicked out of the Blonnowitz/Crenshaw wedding. It had a lot more to do with fucking and enabling drug use with the best man. But whenever he told the story, he kept the emphasis on the chocolate fountain.
To Be Continued... here
I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic!At the Disco
Oh, well imagine; as I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor,
And I can't help but to hear,
No I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.
"What a beautiful wedding!, What a beautiful wedding!"
Says a bridesmaid to a waiter.
"Ah yes, but what a shame, what a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore."
I chimed in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I chimed in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of hope.
Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way,
I mean technically our marriage is saved
Well this calls for, a toast so, pour the champagne,
Oh! Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way,
I mean technically our marriage is saved
Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne, pour the champagne.
I chimed in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I chimed in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
Again..
I'd chime in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!" No.
It's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
I'd chime in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?!"
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things
With a sense of poise and rationality.
Again..
White Wedding by Billy Idol
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who's the only one?
Hey little sister who's your superman?
Hey little sister who's the one you want?
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day for a white wedding.
It's a nice day to start again.
Hey little sister who is it you're with?
Hey little sister what's your vice and wish?
Hey little sister shot gun (oh yeah)
Hey little sister who's your superman?
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
(Pick it up)
Take me back home
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who's the only one?
I've been away for so long (so long)
I've been away for so long (so long)
I let you go for so long
It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start again
Come on
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day to start again.
It's a nice day to start again