Title: The Best Man
Author: GatorGrrrl
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: bad words, slash
Pairings: Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh
Author's Note: Just what I need - another story to worry about. However, this one began as kind of a challenge to myself. It's based on a prompt from a book I bought called The Pocket Muse. It's full of things to get your creative juices flowing and the one I chose involved using the following words in a paragraph (or in this case, story): homeland, flummoxed, uncles, fanfare, last rites, and tomcat. This is the result. And of course, because I like to punish myself, I've left it so that I have to continue. Sigh. Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: He Does, But I Don't
The music started, sounding a little tinny coming through the speakers of the CD player in the corner, and the few people actually present – apparently the onslaught of relatives would officially start that afternoon, beginning with Aunt Katherine, who, it seemed, was never going to die – stood as one to gaze upon the bride-to-be, who stood in the entrance to the sanctuary clutching the rigid arm of her rigid father who looked relieved, at least to Drake, to finally be giving his daughter away.
Drake was smiling so big, he thought his ears would meet behind his head, and wouldn't that be something. He actually tried to picture in his mind what that would look like and struggled to swallow down the sudden burst of giggles that erupted from his throat.
As it was, the little squeaking sound that came out instead was apparently loud enough to be heard, because out of the corner of his eye he saw two of Mindy's uncles glaring at him from beneath matching sets of bushy gray caterpillar eyebrows.
Clearing his throat discreetly behind his hand, Drake tried to refocus.
Mindy and her father started walking down the aisle. The closer they got, the more Drake had to really concentrate on not rolling his eyes when he saw the word "Bride" across the front of her shirt in silver rhinestones. It was almost as nauseating as the "Groom" written across Josh's shirt. Except when he'd seen that, he at least had had the luxury of laughing until his eyes watered.
If he did that now, he had no doubt Mindy would rip his arm off and beat him with it and go back to the rehearsal without even missing a step. If Mindy'd had her way, he wouldn't have been invited at all, he was sure of it. But Josh had asked him to be his best man and Drake had promised Josh he would behave.
Who needed a rehearsal, anyway? All you did was get dressed up, walk down the aisle, and recite a few things. Any idiot could do it. He didn't get all the fanfare.
Of course, Mindy had insisted and Josh had done his usual – agreed with everything she said. It was just easier that way.
Mindy finally made it to the front, the wattage of her smile darkening just a little when her eyes fell on him for a second. But then her eyes flitted away, focusing on his brother, and he knew he'd been dismissed, forgotten like so much lint.
It was just as well. This wasn't his show, anyway. It was all for Josh, which is what he kept telling himself. It didn't matter that Drake believed with all his heart that his brother was making the biggest mistake of his life. It didn't matter that the mere thought of being related to that creature made him want to hurl (he kept imagining Christmas Day, the happy couple cozied up on the couch in matching footie pajamas). All that mattered was that Josh was happy. Really.
So when Josh asked him to be his best man, he had readily accepted and had jumped into the job feet first. He'd gone with Josh to get the tuxes. He'd arranged for transportation to and from the airport for the honeymoon (which was as far as he'd allowed himself to think about that). But mostly, he'd planned a killer bachelor party complete with copious amounts of booze, big-breasted strippers, and not a few half-serious pleas for Josh to reconsider – all of which Josh had dismissed with a tipsy chuckle.
His other duties (besides making sure Josh didn't tip over in the next few minutes; the man could not hold his liquor, to be sure)? Attend the rehearsal. Okay, he was doing that now. Check. And the rehearsal dinner. Inwardly, he groaned at the prospect. Two hours of forced cheer with the future in-laws from hell, as far as he was concerned, eating food from the native homeland of the Crenshaw family ancestors. (Could be interesting; Drake had never eaten Martian food before.) Sign the marriage license. He could manage that; after all, he'd been signing autographs since high school. Dance with the maid of honor. He gazed across the aisle to the row of Mindy's friends, each of whom were wearing identical pink shirts and short, white skirts. He scanned the row of women until he found the one whose shirt said "Maid of Honor" in the same nauseating rhinestones. (He'd put his foot down about wearing the "Best Man" shirt Josh offered him. No way.) Not bad, he thought. Pretty enough. And she had nice legs – smooth and tan and completely capable of wrapping around him.
Stop. She was apparently Mindy's roommate from college or something. Or her cousin. He couldn't remember. At any rate, he definitely shouldn't be thinking about that right now. But he'd been in town for nearly three weeks helping Josh with wedding stuff and in all that time he hadn't gotten laid, surprisingly. Not even by the red-headed stripper with boobs the size of cantaloupes who had given him a lap dance last night at Josh's party.
He felt like a tomcat, stalking the neighborhood for a hot little Persian.
The minister was talking. Something about love and how it was a gift. How marriage was a sacred trust.
Blah, blah, blah.
He looked at the happy couple, but could only see Mindy's face since Josh's back was turned to him. There were tears in her eyes and she seemed to be gazing adoringly at his brother.
So there is at least a tiny bit of softness in that cold, black heart, Drake thought. She loves Josh. She can't be all bad.
Except a second later, her face seemed to morph into something straight out of a horror movie and he actually felt himself flinch.
"This is where you'd recite your vows," the minister said.
"More like last rites," Drake muttered and felt the uncles staring at him again. Mindy didn't seem to notice, thankfully. He was off the hook. Unless, of course, she was planning on sucking his brain out through his ear when he was sleeping later.
"Are you using the traditional vows or do you have your own?" the minister said.
"We've written our own," Josh answered. Drake stifled a groan. He'd already heard them; Josh had recited a dozen different versions to him already, asking for his advice on what to say.
"Say, 'I've changed my mind'," Drake had told him, only half-joking. "Say, 'I don't know what I was thinking.' "
"Drake, come on," Josh had said, smiling. "I'm serious. These have to be perfect and you're better at this than I am."
"Getting married?"
"Putting words together. You do it for a living, remember?" Then Josh had given him The Look and Drake had caved.
His stomach still hurt from all the sweetness.
Drake did his best to calm a very flummoxed Josh right before the ceremony started, finally resorting to grabbing Josh by his oversized head and forcing him to look into his eyes. That seemed to work and Drake held on until his brother's breathing slowed to nearly normal.
"Dude, relax," he said. "Try not to think about the fact that today is the first day of the end of your life."
Josh cracked a smile then, the lopsided one that had always meant he and Drake were on the same wavelength. "I love her, Drake," he said. "I really do."
Drake nodded, his throat suddenly tight. "I know," he said, his voice rough, and let his fingers slide away from Josh's face.
He watched as Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Then his eyes flew open and Drake answered his question before Josh could even ask it.
"I've got the ring," he said, wiggling his left pinky finger in the air between them.
Josh visibly relaxed. "Good." Then a slow smile spread across his face. "I had to talk her into letting you hold it," he said. "She wanted Rosie to carry it."
Drake smirked. "It's nice to know a Shih Tzu is considered more capable than I am," he said.
"Well, she does know commands in three languages. And she can balance a ball on her nose," Josh explained.
Drake snorted. "She pissed on my foot."
"What can I say? She's a great judge of character." Josh laughed, then met Drake's eyes. Drake looked away.
"We should get out there," he muttered. "You know, before they think you've changed your mind." He walked to the door and stopped, his hand on the knob as he threw a look over his shoulder. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.
Josh shook his head. "Not a chance."
Drake shrugged. "Here we go, then," he said, opening the door. "Dead man walking."
Five minutes later, Mindy was walking down the aisle and Drake tried not to think about what it meant exactly that her dress wasn't white.
When her father placed her hand in Josh's, Drake turned his gaze away and met the eyes of Tan Legs across the aisle. She smiled at him and he nodded, then looked upwards at the intricate stained glass.
He heard the soft, solemn voice of the minister start to speak and felt suddenly uncomfortable in his monkey suit.
He sighed. At least there would be cake.
When the minister uttered the proverbial, "Speak now or forever hold your peace," well, Drake didn't hold his peace. He didn't mean to do it. Really. It just sorta came out.
So much for cake.
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