Author's Note: No connection to my other Drake and Josh story. This is just a little one-shot I wrote, and there may be other period one-shots written. Please enjoy (and I promise I will finish In the End soon).
The summer of 1942 was a feverish one in San Diego, both in terms of ambiance and weather, and as it drew into its last few weeks, the ocean air once again stabilizing the temperature down to more reasonable levels, one Joshua Nichols was enjoying his last few weeks of freedom and happiness as he tried hard not to contemplate what he was doing. He escorted his girlfriend, one Miss Mindy Crenshaw, to dance after dance, distracting the two of them from the looming knowledge of his absence. They would dance, laugh, go to the movies, and, when the night was over, and Josh escorted her back to her house, he would kiss her a little longer and harder than he used to, and tears would spring to her eyes, although after the first time, they never spoke of what it was that made them both so anxious.
His announcement had come as a complete shock to Mindy, to his father—to everyone, really.
"I'm going to be a pilot," he had said at dinner one night, interrupting the other quiet conversations occurring between his father, Mindy's parents, and Mindy herself. All heads had turned to him, and his father, Walter Nichols, had all but gawked at him before clearing his throat belatedly.
"What was that, son?" he asked.
"I'm going to be a pilot," repeated Josh, setting down his knife and fork calmly. "I spoke to the recruiter already, and I start training in the fall, as soon as they've got some more planes to train us with."
"Josh, dear, you can't do that," stated Mindy flatly, giving him one of those looks, one of those that told him that she thought she was humoring him. "You have to go back to Princeton in the fall. Your sophomore year, remember?"
"Yes, Mindy, I remember," he said quietly, giving her a small smile, "but I can't. I just can't. I have to do something."
"You can do something by going to school, Josh, and that 'something' is learning," she said, an edge creeping into her voice, begging for him to realize that she was right, that he needed to listen to her.
"We're at war, Min," he said, "and I can't just sit in a classroom and learn about math and history and chemistry when we were shot up by that bunch of Japs. I have to do something about it—if I don't, then what the hell kind of an American am I?"
"Joshua," scolded his father, obviously objecting to his language. But Josh was not in the mood to hear it, and simply continued to keep his eyes locked on Mindy's. The silence was broken by Mr. Crenshaw, strangely enough.
"Well, Joshua," he said, startling the two into looking at him, "I had my doubts about you when Mindy first brought you home, but you've grown on me since then, and this just proves to me that you're a fine young man. This is a big thing to decide to do, and I respect you for it."
"Thank you, Mr. Crenshaw," said Josh, a little shocked. He had never thought that Mr. Crenshaw even liked him at all, but there it was.
Just like that, the discussion was over, and neither Josh nor Mindy had brought it up since then.
The night that would eventually turn Josh's life upside down began as any other night those past few weeks had. Josh went to pick up Mindy, shaking hands with her parents a bit more solemnly than he used to, all of them silently weighted down by the knowledge that this was to be Josh's final night in San Diego.
They were silent in the car as Josh drove, and whenever he glanced over at Mindy, she was in precisely the same position: head bowed, hands clenched into fists resting on her lap. Josh sighed, and continued driving.
When he stopped in front of the San Diego Megadome, he got out and walked around the car to open the door for her. He held out his hand to her, and Mindy stared at it for a long moment before taking it and allowing herself to be helped out of the car. As they approached the doors, they heard the sound of a jazz band playing, and Josh began to tingle with excitement. If he could get Mindy dancing, then he was sure she would forget all about why she was angry with him.
The inside of the dome temporarily shocked them both. Draped from the ceiling were red, white, and blue banners, balloons, streamers, colored lights—Josh was used to the ever-present patriotism at these parties, but no one had gone quite all-out like that before. Placing his hand on the small of Mindy's back, he led her through the crowd towards the tables that were set up off to the side of the dance floor. He helped her shrug out of the coat she was wearing, and smiled as he noticed for the first time that she was wearing the red dress she knew he favored. He leaned down to speak to her, necessitated by the loud music.
"Do you want drinks or dancing first?" he asked.
"I think I need a drink, please," she said, and Josh nodded. As he began to move away, one of her hands suddenly came up to rest against the back of his head, and she pressed her lips against his. The kiss was hard, and a little desperate and sad, and when Josh pulled back, he found that he could do nothing more than smile at her and turn to head for the bar.
He kept an eye on her as he waited in the relatively short line, making sure that no other men were going to try to pick her up. Josh knew, though, that he didn't need to worry, because Mindy was, in many ways, a lot tougher than himself. He saw her chatting politely with several couples they knew as they paused by their table.
"Josh?" he heard, and glanced around before realizing that it was the bartender speaking to him. He laughed suddenly.
"Hey, Eric," he said. "I didn't really expect to see you here."
"It's a summer job, before Craig and I have to head back to Harvard in the fall," he said. Josh nodded in understanding, and stifled the urge to make a crack about his rival school, reminding himself that he was technically no longer a student at Princeton. "What about you? Still an undeclared major?"
"Actually, I quit Princeton," answered Josh, and Eric froze, staring at him incredulously. "I'm shipping off to training tomorrow—gonna be a pilot."
"Geez," said Eric, whistling. "I didn't see that one coming."
"Hey, pal, you're holdin' up the line!" a voice called from behind Josh.
"Sorry," he muttered, and shrugged at Eric. "Just somethin' I feel like I gotta do, you know?" Eric nodded absently as he handed over two glasses of champagne.
"Thanks," he said, and gave Eric one last smile before heading back to Mindy. He frowned as she immediately downed her glass, sipping his own drink slowly. "Did you hear who's playing tonight?"
"I have no idea, but they're coming on in just a moment, whoever they are," she said with a shrug, and Josh wished that she would stop being angry with him for this. In a moment of impulse that he rarely let himself give way to, he decided to tell her so.
"Mindy-"
"Good evening, San Diego!" He was interrupted by the emcee, and Mindy coolly turned to face the stage. Gritting his teeth, so did Josh. "Tonight, we have a very special treat for you all! He's at the top of the charts, he's a son of San Diego himself, and I'm sure we all have his record or have listened to him on the radio—please welcome tonight's entertainment, Drake Parker!" Josh smiled as he clapped eagerly—Drake Parker was one of the most popular jazz singers of their day, and Josh was just as excited as anyone else to see him play.
Then, there he was, striding across the stage to the microphone, waving at everybody, and Josh felt his stomach do a couple of flips as he watched Drake twirl his fedora expertly. "Hello, everybody!" called Drake, grinning into the mic. "I'm gonna start us all off with somethin' easy to dance to, so guys, grab your gals and get ready to swing!" As Drake turned to nod to the conductor, who began to count the band in, Mindy stood and took his hand, pulling him towards the dance floor.
Josh knew that he and Mindy were good dancers, and, without fail, at each dance a small circle of onlookers would form around them as they danced. She was full of energy tonight, and even though Josh knew that it was probably due to how angry she was with him, he fed off of it, their movements quick and their breathing rapidly growing harsher.
But even so, Josh was only able to keep half of his attention on Mindy, the other half devoted to the man on the stage. Drake was both thinner and shorter than he appeared in photographs, but Josh was equally surprised by the way Drake swayed to his own music, his eyes twinkling with happiness and a bit of mischief. Josh wondered briefly when he had gotten close enough to the stage to see him that well before he took note of the other man's moving lips and he sucked in a breath at the way those lips moved, looking almost as though they were making love to the microphone.
As the song drew to a close, he forced his attention back to Mindy and smiled at her. During the applause immediately after that opening song, Josh took her hand and tried to lead her back to the table, but she shook her head, obviously intending to dance more. Josh frowned, thinking that she only wanted to dance to avoid speaking to him, but went with it anyway.
The couple danced for upwards of an hour, their only breaks during the inter-song commentary by Drake. Josh was breathing heavily, as was Mindy, but after that first song, neither made any move to stop. He was very glad, suddenly, that he had spent all those years working so hard to get rid of the baby fat he'd harbored, as it now made him able to endure something like this.
"I'll give you all a break now," said Drake, "and do something a little slower." Mutely, Josh and Mindy moved towards each other, one of Josh's arms wrapping tightly around her lower back, pressing her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they moved together gently to the music.
"Josh?" she breathed in his ear halfway through the song.
"Shh," he answered, wanting to savor the feeling of dancing with her, knowing that he wouldn't get another chance for a year, maybe longer, maybe never.
"No, this is important, Josh," insisted Mindy, and there was an undeniable urgency in her voice. "I love you." His grip tightened around her for a moment.
"I love you, too, Min."
"Josh, this thing you're doing," she said slowly, "it's brave, but... I can't." Josh felt his stomach drop and his heart lurch.
"Can't what?" he asked, wondering what she could possibly mean.
"I've tried, this whole summer," said Mindy, "I've tried to get used to the thought of you being gone, maybe even gone forever, but I can't. I know that I can't, and I'm not going to be one of those women sending you a 'Dear John' letter. I can't lead you on—I love you too much."
"What are you saying, Mindy?" he asked, pulling away from her. They stood stationary, then, staring at each other.
"I love you, Josh," she repeated, her eyes sad, "but I can't wait for someone who may never even come home. I can't wait for you." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them again, pressing her body flush to his as she kissed him sweetly. There was no more anger in her, there was no harshness, no desperation in this kiss, and it was in that moment that Josh finally understood that she was serious about this. She was leaving him. For the second time that night, Josh gave himself over to his impulses, and grabbed her, swinging her down into a dip, kissing her with all the fervor he had in him. He heard a few whistles around them, but he ignored them, pouring all of himself into what he realized was going to be his last kiss with Mindy.
They straightened up and stepped back, away from each other, and he saw tears in Mindy's eyes. He smiled at her gently, reaching out to wipe away a tear she couldn't hold back as it rolled down her cheek. "I understand," he said.
"I'm so sorry," she told him, and Josh kissed her forhead.
"I forgive you." Something about those words broke the dam holding back Mindy's tears, and she began to cry in earnest. Josh reached for her again, but she was already walking away, towards their table. He followed her quickly, and helped her back into her coat.
"I'll get a cab," she said, and Josh didn't protest even though he felt that he should escort her home. He knew that she needed to get away from him, that this was hurting her.
As he watched her walk away, he wondered why it wasn't hurting him more.
An hour passed and found Josh leaning against the outer wall of the Megadome, holding an unlit cigarette between his lips as he stared up at the night sky. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, because he still couldn't feel the ache in his chest he kept expecting to come. He sighed heavily, and hit the back of his head against the wall lightly.
"Need a light?" Josh turned his head, and felt his heart skip a beat as he realized that Drake Parker was standing there. Looking at him. Holding out a matchbook.
"Thanks," he said, his voice suddenly far deeper and more raspy than usual. He accepted the offered matches, feeling his stomach twist as their hands touched. As he lit his cigarette, Josh wondered for the umpteenth time what was wrong with him.
"It's no problem," he said, taking back the matches as Josh finished lighting his cigarette. As Drake lit up one of his own, he leaned against the wall only a foot or so away from Josh. "I couldn't help but see that your girl made a bit of a scene in there."
"You noticed that, did you?" murmured Josh, glancing over at the musician.
"We were all staring at the two of you already, what with that killer dancing," he explained, "and then that was one hell of a kiss. What'd she do to warrant that?"
"It was a goodbye kiss," Josh found himself saying, and he briefly wondered why he was telling this to Drake Parker, and he wondered why the other man was asking, but he threw caution to the wind and decided that the night couldn't get any stranger.
"Where's she goin'? Or where are you goin'?" asked Drake, turning to face Josh fully. For some reason Josh really couldn't understand, Drake was actually interested.
"I'm getting sent off tomorrow for training to become a pilot," explained Josh. "She said she couldn't wait for me."
"No kidding," said Drake. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really look like a flyboy." Josh grinned and shrugged.
"None taken," he answered. There was a moment of silence, but instead of being awkward, Josh merely found it companionable. "The strange thing is that I'm not hurt at all. She's been my girl ever since high school, and now it's over, and I don't really feel anything about it."
"Maybe you're in shock," suggested Drake. "I mean, between knowing that you're leaving to join up tomorrow, and your girl leaving, maybe you just don't feel it yet." Josh made a "hmm"ing noise.
"Maybe," he echoed, though he was a little doubtful. Drake suddenly grinned at him, and the mischief Josh had read in his eyes earlier was back in full force.
"I know a way to make sure you won't feel it for at least another night," he said, and Josh stared at him blankly, not wanting to rush to the wrong conclusion. "How would you like to have a real party tonight? You could think of it as a send-off before you go risking your life for Uncle Sam."
"With you?" asked Josh skeptically. Drake nodded.
"With me." Josh wavered for a moment, then shrugged.
"What the hell," he agreed, finding himself smiling back at Drake. "This night's already been surreal enough." It wasn't until they were in Josh's car that Drake asked for his name, but Josh found that he didn't really mind that at all.
Three hours after that, Drake and Josh were stumbling into Drake's hotel room, completely drunk. Drake was laughing about something as he closed the door, Josh couldn't remember what, and now he was too busy staring at the other man to even try to remember. Drake went by him as he walked over to the bed, falling down heavily onto it, bouncing slightly. He peered at Josh through his mussed bangs, his fedora having fallen off just after they entered the room. Josh found himself feeling suddenly far too warm. Drake patted the spot on the mattress next to him, and Josh obeyed without thinking.
"I had fun tonight, Josh," said Drake, smiling at him. Josh found himself smiling back.
"I had fun, too," he said, and he really had. Drake had taken him to two different clubs where he'd seen more celebrities in one room than he'd ever thought there were in all of San Diego. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," answered Drake almost without thinking. There was an odd moment, then, where Josh found himself staring into Drake's eyes, trying to decipher the expression in them, and Drake was just staring right back at him. "I saw you staring at me while you were dancing with your girl." Josh noticed that Drake had never asked for Mindy's name, but he didn't really mind. For the majority of the night, Mindy had been the furthest thing from his mind.
"You're amazing," Josh said as though it was an explanation, and it might have just been because they were both very drunk, but Drake nodded like he understood, smiling a little sheepishly.
"Thanks."
"You must hear that a lot," said Josh, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his words. Drake bit his lip briefly before answering.
"Not from people who matter." Josh felt his heart skip a beat.
"I matter?" he asked breathlessly, and he wondered if maybe all of this was a dream, something his mind had cooked up to keep him from dwelling on Mindy.
"To me," said Drake quietly, and then they were having another stare-off. After a long moment, Drake reached for Josh, his hands resting on Josh's shoulders, ready to push off his suit jacket. "Is this okay?" Josh blinked a couple of times, his breathing suddenly just as hard as it had been when he was dancing.
"I'm not..." Drake shook his head.
"I never said you were," he assured him, "and I'm not, either." Josh hesitated for one moment longer, then nodded.
"Yes," he said into the silence when Drake didn't move. "Yes. It's okay."
Drake didn't waste another second, fisting both hands into his lapel and pulling Josh in for a kiss. It was heady, and Josh didn't know quite what to make of kissing another man at first, but then Drake's tongue was against his, and he was moaning, and it didn't matter that they were both men, because he'd never wanted anyone before as much as he wanted Drake.
There was no awkward morning after. When Josh woke up, he woke up alone in Drake's bed, his clothes neatly folded on Drake's pillow, a folded piece of paper on top of them. He looked at the paper first, smiling as he saw that it was addressed not to "Josh," but to "Flyboy."
I had a radio thing this morning, the note read, but I didn't want you to think I was running out on you. In fact, I'd like to see you again. I'm giving you my number—call me when you've got leave, and I'll meet you. XO
It would take six months for Josh to call, and one year and three months for them to actually meet in a Los Angeles club, but neither one minded, because every day, Drake checked the list of dead, wounded, and missing, and he never found Josh on it, and every day, Josh listened to Drake's songs, and when he finally heard the new ones on the radio, he knew they were for him, and it was more than enough.