FIC: The Convention (1/?)
Title: The Convention (1/?)
Author: serotonin_storm
Fandom: Drake & Josh
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Drake/Josh UST
Warnings: stepcest
Word Count: 2400 words
Summary: He was absolutely positive he shouldn't do this, more than he'd ever been positive of anything in his entire life. This was a bad idea.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Edited 12/9/08.

“So I had these friends once.”

“Josh used to hang out with these two guys.”

“Their names were Patrick and James. They were really nice. They used to come up to The Premiere and keep me company while I was working. I liked them a lot. James told all kind of jokes, and Patrick was the friendliest guy around. The only problem was that they were were kind of...together.”

“They were gay.”

“Don't get me wrong. I don't really have a problem with that sort of thing. But Drake...”

“Gay.”

“I think it might have made him a little uncomfortable.”

“How could you not like girls? Girls are hot.”

“All Drake knows is girls. Girls are like air to him.”

“Girls are like air! Air!”

“Patrick and James moved away a few months ago, but not before Drake walked in on them kissing once.”

“And this one time – you know what? Ew, never mind.”

“I don't think he ever really got over it.”


--

Drake sidled up to the concession counter and slapped his hand against the glass. “Hey, man.”

His stepbrother Josh whirled around, a huge smile lighting his face. That goof; you'd think Drake was his boyfriend by the reaction he always got. “Hey brotha!” Josh cried, then calmed a bit, wiping his hands on his pants. “What's up?” he asked. “You want a Dr. Fizz?”

He grinned. That was exactly what he'd wanted. It was nice having a brother behind the candy counter sometimes. “You know it,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Turning away, Josh fiddled with the soda machine and the cups, then plopped the large drink down on the counter, saying, “Alright, that'll be – ”

He grasped his drink quickly and hurried off before Josh could finish the sentence. Behind him, he heard Josh mutter, “Gah, and he did it again!” Yeah, that reaction was half the reason he 'd decided not to pay in the first place. That, and he was just about broke as of now. Oh, well. He picked a table and sat back, surveying the scene.

The thing Drake loved most about The Premiere – well, besides the movies and the heavenly candy; those were a given – was the sheer amount of pretty girls. Like, model type girls, and those were Drake's favorite kind. Give him a silky, blond-haired goddess with long legs any day of the week, and he could spend hours in a beauty induced bliss. Sometimes he thought Josh must be the same way. Why else would he have dated that vile beast, that Mindy? What, for her brains? Unless you were talking about Josh himself (who was the exception to just about every rule in Drake's life) looks were way more important and useful than smarts.

Case in point – something he'd heard Megan say that sounded pretty cool – was the girl sauntering up to him now. She was all dark brown waves, high breasts, and bright green eyes. Perfect. And an older woman, too. This girl looked at least twenty.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. “I'm Chelsey Avery,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He nodded, gesturing at the seat next to his. She perched on the chair and crossed her legs at the ankles, her black heels clicking together.

“Drake Parker. You new around here, Chelsey Avery?” he asked, thickening the charm.

“Yeah, I am,” she answered smoothly. “I'm in town a few weeks for a convention.”

A convention? He frowned. “What, that – ” Crap, what was the word? J-something. He knew it started with a J. Oh, screw it. “ – that, uh, thing for janitors?”

Chelsey wrinkled her nose. “No, not that.” Her expression dissolved into something less disgusted after a moment of consideration. “Another convention.”

“Oh, good,” he said happily. “You don't look like a janitor.” She raised an eyebrow. “What convention, then?”

Chelsey seemed reluctant to continue, fiddling with her purse absently. “Actually,” she said slowly. “I'm...meeting my ex-girlfriend here for the annual Bisexuals From Across The Globe convention. She helps organize it, and she really wanted me here.”

“You're a lesbian?” Dammit.

“No,” Chelsey said with a wince. “No, I'm bisexual.”

God, okay, he could pick that apart. What had Josh said bi meant? Drake remembered the word “prefix” being in there somewhere. Two! “The prefix “bi” means two,” Josh had said, tapping a finger against the textbook. “Like there are two wheels on a bicycle.”

Okay, so. “Bisexuals?” he repeated to Chelsey. “That's something for, like, bikes, right?”

He got a funny look for that. “Um, no,” Chelsey corrected slowly. “Someone who is bisexual dates guys and girls both.”

From her expression, he could tell he obviously should have already known that. “Oh,” he muttered.

She smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

Maybe this wasn't a bad thing. She made out with girls; he liked watching girls make out. Maybe it was kind of hot. “So you date guys and girls too, huh?” he said. “What do you think about taking a chance on this guy sometime?”

She immediately shook her head; so not the reaction he'd wanted. “I'm really not in a place right now where I want to date a straight man, uh – ”

“Drake,” he supplied.

“Right, Drake. It gets very complicated. I just got out of a relationship with a straight guy because he couldn't come to terms with my sexuality.”

Before he could think – and man, he should so do that more – the words, “Well, I'm bisexual too,” flew from his mouth.

It was crap like this that was always getting him in trouble. And locked in tight spaces. Or trapped inside falling tree houses.

Chelsey's expression was incredulous at best. “Two minutes ago you didn't even know what bisexual meant,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he agreed quickly. He could do this; he could make this work. It wasn't too bad yet. “I know. I'm...not so good with words. But I, uh, I go out with guys too. And make out with them and everything.” Oh, god, never mind – this was horrifying.

Chelsey leaned back in her seat and frowned at him. “I have to be honest with you, Drake. I really just don't believe you.”

“Well, you should,” he insisted. “I – hey, I even have a boyfriend. He's right over there.”

And, oh, he was pointing at Josh. For the love of God, he was pointing at Josh.

This was so, so bad.

“But,” Chelsey objected weakly, “you were just hitting on me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “We're not, like, exclusive yet or anything. We...see other people sometimes.” All the time. Always. Thank god for that.

Josh chose that moment to shriek in a particularly high pitch. Chelsey considered him, then Drake for a moment. “I'll tell you what,” she said, tapping a red nail against the tabletop. “You bring your boyfriend to the convention on Saturday. I'll give you my cell number, and we can meet up somewhere. I'll believe it when I see it.”

He was absolutely positive he shouldn't do this, more than he'd ever been positive of anything in his entire life. This was a bad idea.

He smiled charmingly. “You bet.”


--

Megan was on the couch when he got home, stretched out and glaring at the television as if she could make it explode. On screen, cheerleaders were breaking limbs.

“Hey,” he said, shutting the front door behind himself. Megan raised a hand in his direction and muttered, “Boob number two.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why does Josh get to be number one? He's always better at everything.” Well, besides music and girls, and being cool. Those were Drake's things, and Josh just wasn't gifted at any of them.

Megan looked over at him in exasperation. “What you just said? That's why Josh gets to be number one.” She shook her head. “Mega boob.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. Sometimes he couldn't believe he was even related to that foul-tempered little demon child. “Is Josh home yet?”

“What, do you think I have a tracking device on him or something?”

“Uh, yeah.”

His sister actually grinned at that, and he felt strangely proud. He still had no idea how they could be members of the same family, but proudly so.

“In your room,” she said to him, and went back to her show.

He was smart enough to leave her alone after that. He didn't need his life any more threatened than normal, not being particularly fond of exploding things or slimy creatures. And Megan really liked those cheerleaders. He headed down the hall at the highest speed possible.

There was a loud bam! when Drake opened the door to his bedroom, followed by some rustling and his brother pulling himself into a sitting position. Josh rubbed his head lightly and sighed. “Hi Drake.”

“What're you doing?” he asked, kicking the door shut and walking over to the couch to gaze at Josh on the floor. That's where Josh ended up a lot – the ground. He was completely uncoordinated. It was a wonder he could dance. Or, you know, walk upright. Which he sometimes couldn't.

Josh held up a book, then struggled back onto the couch. “Reading The Shining. It's freaky. Freaky.”

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. Horror movies were one thing, but horror books? “You're scared of a tiny little book? There's not even any, like, rotting corpses or blood.”

“Just because you can't see something doesn't mean you can't imagine it, Drake,” Josh said indignantly.

“I guess,” he replied. Then, leveraging himself onto the couch and settling down to rest his chin against Josh's shoulder, “Joshie?”

Josh slammed his book loudly. “Oh, no with the Joshie. Don't start with the Joshie, mister.”

He frowned. “Hey, what're you talking about?”

“You calling me Joshie always ends catastrophe,” Josh cried. “Catastrophe!” When Drake just stared at him, he sighed again. “Really bad things,” he elaborated.

“Oh,” Drake said. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure why Josh hadn't just said that in the first place. Never mind; Josh was always using words that Drake didn't know, and he didn't always explain afterwards, either. “No, no, Josh, c'mon,” he insisted. “Do me this one favor, and I'll never ask you for anything ever, ever again.”

Josh looked skeptical, and Drake couldn't really blame him. Yeah, like he'd mean that. Regardless, his brother relented with a tired little, “What is it?”

“Be my fake date to the bisexuality convention on Saturday.”

Josh ripped away from him immediately, and Drake's chin dropped sharply, jarring his jaw and bruising his chest. “Ow,” he groaned, rubbing the spot lightly. He looked over at Josh, who was staring back wide-eyed and unblinking. And – whoa, not breathing! “Uh, Josh?”

“One sec,” Josh answered, holding up a finger. “My brain is melting.”

He waited a moment, then poked Josh's upper arm. “Any better now?”

“Yeah, much better,” Josh told him, smiling blankly. “Alright, so – what?” he finally exploded, jumping off the couch.

“It wouldn't be a real date!” Drake insisted, jumping to his feet too. “Just a pretend date until this girl likes me!”

Josh slapped him in the back of the head, hard. “Are you out of your mind? Did someone switch you with a-an even stupider Drake? Stupid Drake! Is this what he looks like?” his brother babbled.

“Whoa, dude, calm down!”

“Don't you tell me to calm down, you – you crazy man!” Josh yelled.

“I'm not crazy!” he shouted back, rubbing his head. “Chelsey only dates bisexual guys, and she's really hot. If I can convince her I'm bisexual too, she might go out with me.”

“That's just what you need. Another relationship based on a big, fat lie.”

“Josh!” he whined.

“You have other friends,” Josh insisted. “Why don't you ask them? Instead of your stepbrother.”

That was a good idea. Too bad it was a little too late for it. “I kind of – ” He mumbled the rest fairly incomprehensibly.

“Excuse?”

“I kind of already told her I was dating you. And then pointed to you,” he admitted.

“Why, why, why would you do that? Why?”

“I don't know – you were there!”

“If there was a giant ape there, would you have pointed at it?”

“No, that'd be stupid,” Drake spat.

“Oh, that would be stupid! Good to know.” Josh collapsed onto the couch, face buried in his hands. “Okay, let me think,” came his muffled voice.

What good was thinking going to do them now, anyway? Josh would either agree to go with him, or he was screwed as far as Chelsey went. Or not screwed. Either way. “Just do it quickly,” he said.

Josh looked up finally. “Why would she go out with you if she thinks you already have a boyfriend?”

“I said we weren't exclusive. I figured we could have some dumb fight and break up at the convention.”

Josh's expression soured even further. “How romantic of you, sweetie.”

“Give me a break. She was hot.”

“Oh, of course she was hot,” Josh groaned. “Drake, they're all hot. That's why they gravitate towards you. Mutual hotness.”

“You calling me hot?” he asked, grinning smugly. Josh just glared. “Come on, Josh, help me out here. She was, like, twenty, and I think she might have wanted to get with me. Twenty, Josh. Just think about it. Guys don't get a lot of chances like that in their lifetimes. You're really going to destroy mine?

“Oh, and the guilt!”

“Please, Josh? Please, please, please?” he pleaded.

Josh glared at him for half a second before turning and burying his face in a cushion. “Oh, fine,” he mumbled.

“Yes!” Drake shouted triumphantly. He knew Josh would give in eventually; he always did. That's what made them so perfect for each other. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, hugging his brother's back.

“Drake?” Josh grunted.

“Yeah?”

“We're going together to a convention for bisexual people, and pretending to be having sex. Get off me.”

He had a point. “Okay,” he said, moving away and running a hand through his hair. “So, you're in? Like, definitely in.”

Josh smiled at him warmly, lines crinkling around his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I'm in.”

Part 2 >