Title: Shake the Glitter Off
Rating: overall T: for language, alcohol use, and sexuality
Pairings: Drake/Mindy, Josh/Mindy
Spoilers: General series spoilers.
Summary: What happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas. It's the smallest things that can cement an everlasting bond between two people.
Author's note: So, I've been toying around with this idea and working on an (epic 5 page extended) outline for it since early August. Seeing two other Drake/Mindy in Vegas fics seemed like a sign to start writing and posting.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or locations (unless otherwise noted) or songs referenced; title taken from the Katy Perry song "Waking Up in Vegas."
This part was originally intended to be a brief prologue. It's almost 3,000 words. Also: Reviews are love! :-)
Shut and put your money where your mouth is
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Mindy only goes with Josh to Las Vegas because he begs her and occasionally jokes about getting drunk and marrying some random woman. It was a just for the weekend. They had plans to catch one of Drake's last shows, meet up with him for dinner, and then go dancing. It'll be a good chance for them to work some things out because while neither of them will say it, their relationship has changed. It's not that it's broken or breaking but that it's reached a staleness, a stasis. It's a chance to jump start their relationship.
As one of Drake's managers (on paper and more or less in name only), Josh chooses to watch the concert with Mindy from the wings of the stage. She moves to the music with Josh. Drake's playing a ballad, Josh and Mindy are slow dancing, her head resting on his shoulder. He whispers that it would be funny if they eloped, she chuckles and playfully hits him on the arm. It's almost like old times, their high school puppy love, when he could make her laugh and feel butterflies at the same time.
The concert ends and Drake suggests that Josh and Mindy wait at the hotel's casino while he does a quick meet and greet with fans and gets cleaned up. Josh gets so caught up playing Texas Hold 'Em that he tells Drake and Mindy to go to the restaurant without him—he'll meet them shortly.
The third chair at the table remains empty throughout dinner. Every few minutes or so, Mindy opens her purse and peeks at her cell phone to see if Josh has called or text, a small frown of disappointment appearing for a moment before she huffs lightly. Surprisingly, she and Drake manage to be civil towards one another, for the most part, but that probably has more to do with the fact that they spend most of their meal in silence. Drake asks about the flight and how their room is and how her food is, the wine. Mindy asks about the tour even though she cannot count the ways in which she does not care; she lets it slip, bitterly, that she'd actually been looking forward to going out dancing which is looking more and more unlikely since Josh is trying to blow all his money gambling. Drake mutters something about how they could still go if she really had her heart set on it. They're both shocked when Mindy accepts his offer.
In the back of the towncar, Drake mixes himself a drink and Mindy calls Josh; when he doesn't answer, she leaves a message then sends him a text, just for good measure. Mindy alternates between picking at imaginary flecks of lint on her skirt with one hand and the fingers of her other hand drumming against the seat between her and Drake. He starts getting annoyed until he realizes that she's keeping the beat of the songs on the radio in double time.
"Huh."
"What?"
He shakes his head, "Nothing."
They don't say anything else for the few reminding minutes of the ride. The car stops, the driver exits, swiftly walking around the car to rear passenger side door, opening it for Drake. Drake slides out and steps aside, holding his hand out to help Mindy out of the car. She stares at his hand for a second, as if she's afraid that he has an invisible joy buzzer or something in his palm, before placing her hand on his. As soon as she's standing straight, he instantly drops her hand; it doesn't escape her attention when he wipes his hand against his jeans, like he's trying to wipe the germs off.
"I have hand sanitizer in my purse," she says snidely.
He doesn't bother looking at her as he walks through the front entrance of the club, "Habit. And I'm pretty sure that I've grown immune to your germs."
They step into the elevator and Mindy can't help but to get in a dig, "Yeah, well, I'm sure several trips to the free clinic and a healthy regimen of antibiotics would have you feeling pretty damn invincible by now."
"You can take the girl out of the bitch but you can't take the bitch out of the girl."
She opens her mouth then closes it, choosing her words carefully, "Like you said, 'habit.'"
As the elevator ascends, Mindy fiddles with the straps of her top, making sure that they're tight and not twisted.
"Are you always so anal?"
"Yes. Are you always bedraggled?"
"What?"
"Scruffy, unkempt, disheveled?"
He shrugs as the elevator stops, "My female fans like me this way; they think I'm hotter."
She snorts, the elevator doors open. Drake gestures for her to go first and he follows her out, placing his hand on the small of her back. Mindy jerks, stopping, and Drake pushes her forward, telling her that it's just to emphasize that she's there with him and not some hanger on. There are at least a few dozen people waiting, the line snaking around the corner. The bouncer spots Drake, nods in acknowledgement, then jerks his head, giving him the go ahead to bypass the line and go straight into the club.
Mindy checks her phone again and Josh has just responded to her text: One more game. She rolls her eyes and shoves her phone back inside her purse. Drake pushes a path to the bar and Mindy yells over the noise to the bartender that she just wants something citrusy and mild; Drake shakes his head at the bartender, holding up two fingers, "Jameson. Shots."
"I don't do shots."
"You're in Vegas, Josh is clearly blowing you off, and that guy over there is checking you out—loosen up and have some fun."
She bristles, "I'm not going to cheat on Josh."
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." She glares at him. The bartender places the shots in front of them and takes Drake's credit card. Mindy wrinkles her nose. Drake nudges the glass closer to her, "Dude, even I can tell that he's being an ass right now. That's coming from me. And I barely even like you."
"Don't call me, 'Dude,'" she says, picking up the small glass, scrutinizing the rich golden liquid.
"Whatever." Drake raises his glass and says "Sláinte" before downing his hot. He sets the empty shot glass down on the bar, upside down. Mindy's still inspecting her drink. Drake sighs, "You gotta take it to the head."
"What?"
He's getting a little irritated; he wasn't planning on having to cheer Mindy up or distract her or whatever the hell. "Just slam it down!"
"All right," she shouts defensively. She takes a deep breath and quickly swallows the whiskey, sputtering a little, "Oh my god, how can you drink this?"
"First of many," he says, handing her another shot.
He's being nicer to her than he has ever been, nicer than she's ever deserved after that one time she tried to frame him. Every so often, it crosses her mind that she has never apologized for that. She raises her glass, "What was it you said before, sláinte?"
He leans closer to her so that he doesn't have to yell quite as loud, "Irish whiskey, Irish toast." He pulls back, his glass clinks against hers, "Sláinte!"
It still burns going down but it doesn't taste as bad as it did just moments before. Drake takes the empty shot glass from her and places it on the table. His fingers wrap loosely around her wrist and he leads her to the stairs leading to the lower half of the split-level club, the level that contains the dance floor. She starts doing calculations in her head: If she had two generous glasses of wine at dinner and normally never has more than three in an evening but now she's doing shots, she's probably going to feel the alcohol hit her soon. But she had plenty to eat and if she's dancing, her body's going to metabolize the alcohol better, and she knows to drink plenty of water.
Mindy's standing still on the dance floor and Drake can see the wheels turning in her head, the light bulbs going on and off, her brain probably trying to process the events of the night up until this point, "Stop thinking so much. God forbid you just let yourself have fun."
"Okay."
He takes her by the shoulders and turns her around, giving her a not-so-gentle push so that she bumps into some guy dancing with his buddies. Mindy starts trying to apologize but the guy clearly does not give a damn because the moment he turns around and sees that she's a girl, he boldly places a hand on her waist and starts dancing with her. She thinks about Josh and glances over her shoulder and sees Drake, his back to her, dancing with two girls and how did he do that so fast?
Breanna and Jade, BFFs, lavish Drake with praise and come-ons. Sure, they're both really hot but he doesn't do tag-teams and he'll just pretend that he doesn't get that they're both hitting on him and willing to share toys. He peeks around for Mindy every so often to make sure she's not freaking out or being drugged or otherwise assaulted. She seems to be making friends as such with the group of guys he shoved her into, her dance partners rotating after each song. After about an hour he loses sight of her and he starts to panic because he's pretty sure Josh is gonna be pissed if he doesn't keep an eye on Mindy. Or if one strand of hair on her perfect little head is out of place when she returns to the hotel since at this point it's clear that Josh is going to spend every last dime gambling this weekend away. And he was supposed to be the smart one. Drake scans the room and he spots her going up the stairs. He breaks away from the random blond he's been grinding against to try to catch up with Mindy and check on her.
She's perched on a stool at the bar, draining a glass of water. Her bangs are plastered to her forehead and he can see the beads of perspiration on her chest. He gently places a hand on her shoulder, and he expects her to jump and she does. She settles and actually smiles at him, "Hey! Shots?"
He frowns, "Have you had anything else to drink?" The last thing he needs is to find out that one of those guys did sneak her a drink because who knows what it might have been and what might have been in it.
She gives him a weird look, like she doesn't understand why he's worried, "I had another shot and now just finished chasing it with H2O. Weren't you the one who told me to have fun? I am. This is adrenaline and endorphins." The bartender slides two shots in front of them. Mindy picks one up, holding it just beneath the rim, and brings it to her lips then tosses her head back. Her movement is fluid as she places the empty glass onto the bar top, upside down, as she saw Drake do earlier, then picks up the other shot. She holds it out to Drake but as he reaches for it, she pulls it away and drinks it herself. She gives him a mischievous grin and he thinks that he's created a monster. She hops down off the stool, "You need to catch up, Drake. See you on the dance floor!"
He watches her sashay away, her hips swaying rhythmically to the music. He runs a hand over his face and sits on the stool that Mindy just vacated. He yells at the bartender for two double shots of Jameson, knowing there's a good chance that he's going to regret it in the morning because the night is relatively young and it's really not his job to baby-sit Josh's girlfriend. Fuck it. He downs the doubles in quick succession, like it's nothing, then heads back to the dance floor to find Mindy.
His eyes find her easily from the top of the stairs; she's dancing against some fratty looking type whose hands make a grab for her backside. Drake rushes down the stairs and through the crowd. By the time he reaches her, she's already removed the guy's hands from her butt but he seems to be going an alternate route, his fingertips brushing her outer thigh. She slaps his hand away and steps backward, colliding with Drake. His hand comes around to rest on her hip as she looks up and over her shoulder at him. Drake gives the sleazy guy a cocky grin as Mindy relaxes against him. The guy looks peeved and turns around and pushes through the crowd to find a more willing victim. Mindy lifts her head and yells over her shoulder, "Thanks. Not just for that but for tonight. You didn't have to do this."
"It's not so bad. You're not bad company when you're wasted."
She turns around to face him, bringing an arm up so that her hand rests on his shoulder, "You're not bad company when I'm wasted either!"
He leans down so that he can talk in her ear, "You should probably slow down a bit."
"What if I want to put the 'Sin' in Sin City?"
Drake would just chalk the seductive tone in Mindy's voice up to his imagination except that as she's speaking, she grinds against him. For a split second, a part of his brain tells him to let whatever happens happen and stay in Vegas despite the fact that he'd be taking advantage of her and that she's dating his brother/best friend. Luckily, his brain isn't completed fogged by alcohol yet. "Behave, Creature."
"You are so easy," she says triumphantly, the seduction gone from her voice. She sticks her tongue out at him and continues dancing against him.
"Does Josh know about this side of you?"
"Of course he doesn't! I didn't even know about this side of me!"
He lets himself smile. He likes this side of her. If Mindy Crenshaw were remotely like this girl, he'd probably be friends with her—if he were friends with girls. He could see being "friends" with benefits with her definitely.
"Do you think Josh still loves me?"
To Drake, the question comes completely out of the blue. It's a stupid question as far as he can see because why else would Josh still put up with the cold and uptight Mindy Crenshaw. "Please don't be a sentimental, weepy drunk, Mindy."
"Answer my question. Please, Drake, he tells you things."
"Yeah, he tells me that he loves you, so, there you go. Doesn't he tell you that all the time?"
"He doesn't say it as much as he used to, neither of us do, but we do still love each other. I think that this weekend was supposed to be about us reconnecting," she stops dancing, her hand sliding down to his chest. "I know we managed to make the whole long distance relationship thing work while we were in college but ever since we've been able to spend more and more time together, things don't feel the same. What if we're growing apart?"
"I'm really not the guy to go to for actual relationship advice, you know that."
"But right now you're the closest friend I have that's not Josh. And you and I aren't even friends!"
He groans. This isn't the kind of conversation Drake could have sober, let alone drunk and he thinks that it's probably time for them to call it a night and join Josh back at the hotel. "Let's go close out our tab and get out of here, okay?"
"Where are we going next?"
"Hotel. I think we need to rest and wind down for a bit. Maybe get some room service. And retrieve Josh."
She pushes in front of him when they reach the bar and orders them both a glass of water as well as another shot. He pays for all of their drinks, including the last round, signing the receipt and taking his card back from the bartender.
She bounces and sways in the elevator, leans against him, her arm loosely looped through his. He wants to be annoyed and maybe a little disgusted but he just can't; he feels like she would be annoyed and disgusted at herself in this state. He's not supposed to be the responsible one, not ever. And the fact that now he is, kind of pisses him off a little. So, he decides to throw caution to the wind. He will not be held responsible for any trouble that he or Mindy gets into. At this point, it's not like either of them will remember anyway.