Title: Balloon

Summary: Dylan has to ask Paige for an awkward favor.

Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi. If I did, Dylan and Marco would be married, Ellie and Sean would still be together, and Peter wouldn't be on the show at all.

Warnings: Mention of slash, references to adult-ish stuff, language

A/N: So I have no idea where this came from. Honestly, the weirdest things pop into your head at 3:38 in the morning. Which also explains the title. Oddly, two-four in the morning is usually when I write the most.

…

He had to have one somewhere.

He had just bought the damn box. He couldn't have gone through it already. This could not be happening.

"Shit," Dylan swore under his breath and tossed more clothing aside in his dresser drawer. Maybe one had fallen out of the box and now lay at the bottom of his drawer somewhere. Hopefully. After emptying nearly every pair of underwear previously residing in the drawer onto the floor and still not finding what he was looking for, he growled in frustration and kicked the dresser. Bad mistake. The dresser, not surprisingly, was a lot harder than his big toe.

"Ow!" He figured he must have looked pretty ridiculous, hopping around in circles on one foot while clutching the other tightly. At the moment, however, he really didn't care. When the pain finally subsided, he sat down on the edge of his bed, his brow furrowed in thought. The answer― the only answer― came to him in a flash of realization and dread. God, he did not want to have to go there.

But what other choice did he have? There was only one way he could think of to get what he wanted. If only there were some other way.

He stood up and slipped out of his room across the hall to bang on the door directly opposite his.

"Paige!" he called, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. After a moment, the door opened, and a small blonde head poked itself out.

"What?"

"I―" Dylan faltered, flushing and averting his attention to his shoes, which seemed considerably more interesting than they had five minutes ago.

"What?" said Paige again, either not noticing her brother's discomfort, or simply not caring.

"I― I need― um…" Dylan tried again. Paige cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

"Some…uh…"

"Come on and spit it out. I do have a life, you know," Paige rolled her eyes, waiting for her brother to just say whatever it was.

Dylan couldn't remember ever finding himself in a more awkward situation. "Do you have any…you know…" Oh, screw it. "Condoms?" he said finally.

Paige's eyebrows shot up in shock. "Um… what?"

"Condoms," Dylan repeated, avoiding her eyes.

Paige stifled a giggle.

"It's not funny, Paige. Do you have any or not?" demanded Dylan. This was uncomfortable enough without her laughing at him and prolonging his agony for her own personal amusement.

"Why do you need a condom?" she asked, trying not to grin.

Now she was just being annoying. "Cause I thought it'd make a cool-looking balloon― why do you think?" he said harshly.

"Ooh, is that why Marco's coming over later? I thought you'd be better prepared for this, Dyl," she teased. But Dylan was not in a joking mood.

"One more time, Paige. Condoms. Yes or no?"

Paige giggled again. "One sec." She disappeared behind her door. Dylan could hear a faint rustling noise in the room beyond it. She reappeared a few seconds later, a small, thin package dangling between two fingers.

"Thanks," Dylan said shortly, making a grab for it, but Paige held it out of his reach.

"Paige--?"

"Say the magic words," she said tauntingly.

"Please. Now can I have it?"

"Those weren't the magic words."

Dylan gave her a threatening look, but Paige just smirked, obviously enjoying the power she currently held over her brother.

"Say… 'Paige is the queen of all that is cool.'"

Dylan rolled his eyes. Oh, God. What were they, five? Well, if they were, he supposed they wouldn't be squabbling over a condom, but still, it was as though she was channeling her five-year-old self. Five had been an exceptionally annoying year for her.

"Paige is the queen of all that is cool," he said quickly, making another grab at the package. Again, the younger Michalchuk snatched it back.

"Now say… 'Paige is and will always be my superior in awesome-ness."

"Paige is and will always be my superior in awesome-ness. Whatever the hell that is."

Paige grinned in a very self-satisfied manner. "Good. And you have to do my chores for a week. That means all my laundry, washing the dishes every other day… and everything else. I'll make a list."

"What?! I'm not doing your chores for a week!" he said outrageously.

"Hmm. Too bad, cause no chores means no condom. And since I'm sure you and Marco are smart enough not to do it without one, I guess that means you aren't getting any tonight," said Paige smugly. Dylan glared at her, but Paige held her ground. She obviously wasn't budging on this one. The manipulative little…

He sighed. "Fine. A week," he agreed reluctantly. Just think of Marco. Think of Marco tonight. Marco Marco Marco…

Paige flashed him a triumphant grin, and dropped the condom in his upturned hand. "Have fun."

"Yeah. Thanks." Irritated but satisfied, he spun on his heel and marched across the hall to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He opened the little drawer on the table next to his bed and dropped the package inside. Marco would be over any minute. He could hardly wait. Just then, his cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts of his boyfriend. He dropped to his knees and began digging through the pile of clothes on his floor in search of his phone, desperately trying to find it and answer it before it went to voice mail. He located it on the last ring under a pair of boxers on his desk chair, which he tossed carelessly on top of the pile near his closet.

"Hey," he said casually, his voice never betraying his frenzied heart. He had recognized the number immediately. It was Marco. Suddenly, all the trouble he'd went through to get the damn condom seemed totally worth it.

"Hey, Dyl…um, I need to talk to you about tonight…" Marco began.

"You're still coming over, right? I rented some movies, my parents are gone for the weekend, and Paige promised to be out by six…"

"Yeah, I know," the Italian's voice sounded rather pained. "Dylan, I can't make it. My aunt and uncle came to visit for the weekend, and my parents are making me stay home. I'm sorry."

Dylan felt disappointment flood through him. "Oh… oh— yeah, okay. It's all right."

"I'm really sorry, Dylan," said Marco again, and Dylan knew he was. They both were.

"It's fine. We'll make it another night. No problem," said Dylan, doing his best to sound casual and indifferent.

"I got to go. They're waiting for me downstairs," said Marco.

"All right. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you," said Dylan.

"Love you too, babe. Bye."

"Bye." Dylan let out a long, low breath and closed his phone. Still on his knees in front of his desk chair, he crossed his arms over the seat part and dropped his head onto them. This seriously sucked. He'd been looking forward to this all week. It wasn't as though he and Marco had never had a romantic evening alone before, but they hadn't had one in a while. They were always either at school, where they hardly got to see each other, and even then, there were strict PDA rules… in public, where Marco had a tendency to reject most of his affectionate gestures… or here, at the Michalchuk household, where they had to deal with Paige and his parents. Dylan missed just being alone with Marco, and tonight would have been the first time in ages they actually got a moment to themselves.

Well, he might as well give Paige the stupid condom back. He could pick some up from the store tomorrow, and this way he didn't have to do her chores. He stood up and retrieved the thing from the drawer. He crossed the hall again and knocked gently this time. Paige opened the door and gave him an amused lopsided smirk.

"What, not the right size?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, reminding him how infuriating she could be and immediately bringing back all of his previous irritability with her.

"Actually, I don't need it after all. Marco can't make it," said Dylan, handing the package out to her. Paige glanced down at it, but didn't take it.

"Why not?" she asked, ignoring Dylan's outstretched hand.

"Family thing. Some relatives are visiting. His parents won't let him come over," Dylan said shortly. He really just wanted to go back to his room and sulk for the rest of the night.

"Oh. That sucks for you," Paige said indifferently. She turned to go back inside her room.

"Hey, wait. Don't you want this?" asked Dylan, offering her the condom again.

"I've got more," said Paige. She started to shut the door, but Dylan held out a hand to prevent it from closing.

"Hang on. I don't want this. I'm giving it back. So I don't have to do your chores now."

Paige opened the door again. "Um, yeah, hon, you do," she said slowly.

"What? No, I don't. I'm giving it back," Dylan argued.

"So? The deal was, you take it, you do my chores for a week. Even if you're not going to use it, you still agreed to the deal," said Paige, crossing her arms.

"Paige, I'm not doing your chores for a week. I don't want this thing. I don't need it. I'm giving it back to you. Therefore, the deal is off."

"Sorry, hun, all sales are final," Paige shrugged and shut the door, and Dylan was left standing outside it, still clutching the condom. He wondered idly when he'd gone from looking at a night alone with Marco to looking at a week of Paige's chores, and scowled.

Oh, well. At least the condom would still make a cool-looking balloon.