TITLE: The Quality of Darkness
SPOILERS: Anything from the series is fair game.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Drake & Josh. All are owned by Dan Schneider, et al. I am not profiting in any way except creatively.

A/N: I apologize for the nearly two week hiatus with this story. It was unintentional; my muse just decided to take a long siesta. But it's back now!

A/N 2: Reader beware - the darkness creeps in again a bit at the end of this chapter. A teensy bit of explicit stuff, but not too bad. And just to warn you ahead of time: the "past" chapters will start getting darker from now on. I'm going to start kicking this story up a notch.

Chapter 10: Frayed

Drake's hand was beginning to cramp. He glanced up at the clock that hung mockingly over the door; he had twenty minutes left and still nearly two questions left on his exam. It was a strange feeling, really, to be worried about running out of time to complete an exam. Usually, he was done with time to spare and spent the remaining time daydreaming or formulating possible song lyrics inside his head.

But today, he actually knew more than just enough to write a few general sentences and had apparently gotten a little carried away. The tutoring in history was working, he thought. Now all he needed was a little help with time management.

He felt someone staring at him and turned his head to find Mr. Bradford watching him. When their eyes met, the man smiled slightly and nodded at Drake. Drake's response was to look away and focus his attention back on his paper. Flexing his fingers, he picked up his pen and went on to the next question: "List three impacts the assassination of Abraham Lincoln had on the reunification of the United States after the Civil War using appropriate evidence to support your conclusions."

Drake pressed the tip of his pen against the paper and started writing, "Abraham Lincoln's assassination had three major impacts on the reunification" – he had to refer back to the question for the correct spelling – "of the United States after the Civil War…"

He was really getting into it, his brain working faster than his hand could write, when his train of thought was derailed by the unthinkable – the chirping of his cell phone inside his pocket. Jumping in his seat, his pen rolled off the desk and bounced to the floor, scooting a good distance away. Drake could feel the eyes of his classmates on him and heard a few grumbles percolate around the classroom as he dug quickly in his pocket for his phone. Pulling it out, he held it under his desk and opened it up, pressing the IGNORE button with his thumb as he glanced at the number. It wasn't a number he recognized; it didn't even have a San Diego area code. Wrong number.

"Mr. Parker."

Crap. Looking up, he was startled to find the teacher standing next to his desk, staring down at him sternly. "Sorry, Mr. B," Drake said and noticed the flash of annoyance in the man's eyes at his use of the nickname. "I guess I forgot to turn off the ringer this morning." He tried to look sheepish, but it came out looking more like amusement.

Mr. Bradford, however, was not amused. He held out his hand. "Hand it over, Mr. Parker."

"But –" Drake began.

"You've already disrupted your classmates enough, don't you think?" Mr. Bradford interrupted harshly, continuing to hold his hand out. "The phone, please. Now."

Drake pursed his lips in dismay, then placed the phone reluctantly into Mr. Bradford's palm. He saw the man's fingers close around it tightly, then heard him say softly, "You'll get it back this afternoon."

Clenching his jaw, Drake just nodded, watching in silence as the teacher made his way back down the aisle towards his desk. As his classmates settled back into concentration mode, Drake stared back at his exam. Remembering that his pen had fallen to the floor, he searched for it and found it a few feet away, halfway beneath the seat of Amber Locke's desk.

It was out of his reach, but he wasn't about to tap Amber on the shoulder and ask her for it – not since she actually slapped him (slapped him!) across the face and called him a pervert about a month ago. Drake still didn't see what the big deal was, anyway. All he did was maybe ogle her mom a little bit when he saw her lounging by the family pool in a bikini. (Bikinis in December. God, he loved San Diego.) She should've been flattered; it was meant as a compliment. And in his defense, Mrs. Locke was hot. His cheek had been red for a good hour after that slap.

So no, he wasn't going to ask her. He'd just get it himself. Sliding down in his seat until his chin was level with the edge of the desk, he reached with his left foot towards the pen, holding himself steady with his hands. The pen was still just out of reach, so he slid down a little more until he could actually see under his desk, could see the shirttails of the kid in front of him poking through the opening in the back of his chair. He stretched his foot a little farther – he almost had it. Pressing with the toe of his boot, he started to carefully drag the pen back towards him, but at the last second, the pen squirted out from beneath his shoe and shot a few inches forward, hitting Amber in the back of her right foot.

Drake suppressed a groan. Great. He saw Amber look down at her foot, then shoot him a glance over her shoulder that could freeze lava. He gave her his best apologetic grin from beneath his desk. Rolling her eyes, she reached down and snatched up his pen, holding it out to him across the aisle. Sliding up into a seated position, he reached for it, muttering a sheepish "Thanks" as he secured his fingers around it.

"Drop dead," she muttered icily as she turned back to her exam without a second glance.

Shrugging, Drake looked up at the clock again. Ten minutes left. As he turned back towards his test, he saw that Mr. Bradford was watching him again, got a strange feeling that he'd been watching him the whole time. Smiling slightly, he held up the pen victoriously and jiggled it in the air, as if to say, "I got it!" A look of resigned amusement crossed the man's face and he shook his head, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Quickly reading over what he'd written, Drake tried to find the threads of his frayed concentration. He doubted he had time to finish both questions, but he could at least finish the one he had been working on before the phone fiasco threw him off-track. He knew, of course, that he'd get an earful from Mr. Bradford regarding the unanswered question.

Sighing, he started writing, his handwriting getting more illegible by the second. "When Lincoln died, his ideas for welcoming the South back into the Union without further consequences died with him…"

Study hall was Drake's favorite subject.

He knew she was looking at him; he could feel her eyes on him. She looked away quickly, of course, every time he looked in her direction.

He smiled. "Yeah, I see you," he muttered to himself.

Josh stirred next to him, looking up from his Calculus book to gaze at his brother. "Did you say something?"

Drake turned his head to look at Josh, his grin growing wider. His Biology book was open in front of him, the front cover resting on his left forearm, his fingers curled around the top edge. "You see that girl over there?" he asked, leaning in so he could whisper to Josh. "The one in the pink sweater?" His dark eyes flitted across the room to the girl who was currently burying her nose in a battered copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn – assigned reading, no doubt, Drake thought to himself, since no one would actually read that book for fun.

Josh took a surreptitious glance across the room, found the girl reading quietly to herself. Her dark hair was tucked neatly behind her ear and Josh got a good glimpse of her profile – small nose, pale skin. She was absently chewing on her thumbnail as she read. He looked back at Drake. "Yeah. What about her?"

"She keeps looking at me," Drake stated, a gleam in his eyes.

Josh quirked one eyebrow; he knew what Drake was getting at. "So what?"

Drake's eyes widened. "So," he said, clicking his retractable pen over and over, "I think she likes me."

This time Josh couldn't hide his disgust. "You think anyone with estrogen likes you," Josh quipped, rolling his eyes as he turned back towards his Calc book.

Drake was silent next to him and Josh suppressed a grin. "Uh, Josh?" Drake whispered after a moment.

Leaning over, Josh grabbed Drake's Biology book out of his grasp and flipped to the glossary, finding the E's. Encephalitis, enzyme, epidermis…aha! Placing the book back in front of Drake, Josh pointed to the word in question. Following Josh's finger, Drake read, "Estrogen: Any of several steroid hormones produced chiefly by the ovary and responsible for promoting estrus and the development and maintenance of female secondary sex characteristics."

Drake giggled; he only understood half those words, but it all sounded kinda dirty. He gave his brother a puzzled look.

Josh heaved a sigh. "Girls, Drake," he whispered, defeated. "It's what, you know, helps make them girls." He felt himself beginning to blush. How does Drake always manage to drag him down into the gutter? His brother's immaturity was like a bullet train; Josh could always see it coming, but could never seem to get out of the way before it struck him.

"You mean…?" Drake asked mischievously, holding his hands out in front of his chest, curling his fingers slightly towards him. He waggled his eyebrows.

Josh's cheeks were burning and he busied himself with turning the page in his Calculus book with his left hand while shielding his face from Drake with his right, trying to pretend that he was just resting his elbow on the desk. He could hear his brother sniggering beside him.

Eventually, Drake turned back to his book, flipped to the front page and wrote, "START HERE. Go to page 188." Flipping to page 188, he wrote the letter J at the top next to the page number. Beneath it, he wrote, "Go to page 286." Flipping to page 286, he wrote the letter O at the top near the page number, then wrote, "Go to page 17." He continued the pattern for several pages.

"What are you doing?" Josh hissed from beside him. He had just spied Drake writing the letter K in the upper right-hand corner of page 334.

"Nothing," Drake answered nonchalantly.

"You shouldn't write in that book," Josh said. "It's not yours."

"So?" Drake started clicking the pen again, knowing it irritated Josh.

"So, other people have to use that book next year. And you're defacing it! That's…" Josh floundered, "…defacement!" He leaned in, gave Drake his sternest look. "Of school property, no less!"

Drake just blinked back at him calmly. "So I probably shouldn't've drawn that picture of Mindy on the cafeteria wall then either, huh?" he asked mildly.

Josh opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Drake thought he looked like a goldfish. "You…that was…but you said…" Josh spluttered, then sat up and stabbed a finger at Drake. "I believed you!"

Drake just shook his head. "Dude," he said. "Of course it was me."

"That took three coats of paint to cover up!" Josh knew his voice was rising, but he couldn't help it. No one could get his hackles up more than Drake. He ignored the sharp look from Mrs. Frobisher, the study hall monitor, as he said, "You can still see it, if you look close enough."

Looking wistful, Drake said nostalgically, "Yeah." He sighed. "That was some of my best work." He had drawn it last year when Mindy was running for student council president. It was a picture of Mindy's head on a donkey's body. Underneath it he had written, "Mindy Crenshaw for ClASS President." He snapped his fingers, grinning. "I think I still have a picture of it on my phone. Wanna see it?" He had his hand in his pocket before he remembered that Mr. Bradford was holding the gadget hostage until the end of the day. Chagrined, he muttered, "I'll show you later."

"Mindy was furious. She was convinced that you had done it. But I told her there was no way. Drake would never do that. She didn't speak to me for a week. A week! And I didn't even do anything!" He turned back around, away from Drake, crossing his arms angrily over his chest.

"Dude, calm down," Drake said, trying to appease him. "What do you care now, anyway? She dumped you, like, six months ago."

Josh gave him a dark look. "Thanks for reminding me." Josh and Mindy had reconciled at the end of last school year, but they had broken up for good right before school started up again. It still stung a little, especially since Josh hadn't had another girlfriend since.

"I say good riddance," Drake said, turning back to his book. Underneath the letter K, he wrote, "What's that spell?" Then he closed the book.

Whoever had the book next year, if they were curious enough to follow the clues, would be rewarded with the following message:

JOSH NICHOLS IS A DORK

It was after midnight. The boys sat on the couch in their room, bathed in the glow of the television. Two sets of bare feet were propped on the coffee table in front of them.

"Dude, we shouldn't have drunk all that Mountain Fizz right before bed," Drake said mournfully. He felt tired, but his brain was buzzing inside his skull from all the caffeine.

Josh rolled his head along the back of the couch and gazed at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "It was your idea. Let's see who can drink an entire two-liter the fastest!" he mocked.

Drake met his gaze. "You really have to stop listening to me," he said.

"Don't I know it," Josh replied, looking up at the ceiling. "But I can't seem to help it. You can make anything seem like a good idea at the time. I bet you could sell bottled water to a drowning man."

But Drake wasn't listening; he was watching the television intently. The man on the screen was extolling the virtues of another miracle product. This one – some sort of adhesive – could apparently support the weight of a 250 pound man, yet was delicate enough to repair the handle on a bone china teacup! So many uses, you'll wonder how you ever survived without it! All yours for just…

"19.95," Josh mouthed along with the voice-over guy.

Josh just rolled his eyes, waiting for the "But wait, there's more!" moment. It came, of course, like clockwork, promising a double order (at no extra cost!) to those who called in the next ten minutes.

The soft sounds of telephone buttons emanated from Drake's side of the couch. Looking over at him, Josh saw Drake press a couple numbers on his cell phone, consult the TV screen, then push a few more. Just as he was about to press the phone to his ear, Josh reached over and grabbed it away.

"Gimme that!" he said, flipping the phone closed with a snap and giving Drake a look. He slid the phone under his thigh, out of Drake's reach.

"Hey!"

Josh put a hand on Drake's leg. "I'm saving you, once again, from yourself. You'll thank me later."

Drake smirked, then sunk back into the cushions with a sigh. He yawned. "See?" he said through it, pointing at his face. "Ah ire uh ah an fall asleep," he finished, his words becoming clearer as the yawn ended.

"I know what you mean," Josh commiserated, rubbing his eyes. "I feel like I'm vibrating."

"That's my phone," Drake said, snatching the phone out from under Josh's leg. He gave his brother an exasperated look. "Idiot."

Josh just smiled. He tilted his head, indicating the phone. "Booty call?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Drake stared at him in silence for a long moment. "Don't ever say that again," he said, shuddering. "Just…ew."

"What?" Josh asked, laughing.

Drake flipped open his phone. He had a new text message. Pressing the button to open it, he read:

"hi drake. just thinking about u."

"Huh. That's weird," Drake said absently, staring at the screen.

"What?"

"I don't recognize the number," he said, showing the phone to Josh.

Josh read the message, a smile arcing slowly across his mouth. "Ooh," he said in his best scary voice, "someone has a stalker."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Yeah. And I'll probably find a necklace made from human hair hanging on my locker tomorrow."

"Call the number back and see if they answer."

"You think I should?" But he didn't wait for an answer before dialing the number. When the voicemail picked up, it was one of those default outgoing messages with the robotic female voice. He pointed at the phone and mouthed "voicemail" to Josh. After the beep, he stayed silent, debating whether or not to say anything. When Josh nudged him with his knee, he sputtered, "Uh, hi. This is Drake. I just got a text from this number. I was trying to find out who it's from." He suddenly smiled. "But if you want to keep it a secret, then I'm game. I like a good mystery. Nighty night." He clicked the phone shut and grinned at Josh.

"Who do you think it is?" Josh asked.

Drake shrugged. "Dunno." His grin grew wider. "But I bet she's hot."

Josh laughed, rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's that girl from study hall. You know, the one who's secretly in love with you," he said dramatically.

Drake wrinkled his forehead for a second, his face clearing when he remembered. "How'd she get my number?"

Josh grinned. "Stalkers are very resourceful."

Drake thought it over for a second, then shook his head. "Nah," he said dismissively. "She doesn't seem the type."

"You don't even know her!" Josh protested.

"I can just tell," Drake said. "I mean, look how she was dressed."

Josh looked blankly at him. "Huh?"

Drake patiently explained. "She was wearing slacks."

"Slacks," Josh repeated.

"Girls who wear slacks don't text guys in the middle of the night. They draw hearts on their notebooks and write in their diaries." Drake spoke in a tone of voice that said that all of this should be obvious.

Josh found it all very amusing. "So tell me," he said, curious about the rest of 'The World According to Drake'. "Those girls who do text guys in the middle of the night. What do they wear?"

Drake thought about it, then grinned. "Short shorts," he said. "And those tight shirts with the thin straps –"

"Spaghetti straps," Josh interjected helpfully.

Drake shot him a look that said, You're such a girl!, then continued. "And most importantly…thongs," he said, his eyebrows lifting salaciously.

The phone buzzed again and this time, Drake opened it immediately.

"sweet dreams. ill be dreaming of u."

Drake laughed. "Yep," he said. "Definitely a thong."

Josh just rolled his eyes.

Nathan Bradford pressed the SEND button on his little prepaid phone, then searched through the menu to open his voicemail. Playing back Drake's message, he closed his eyes as he listened to the boy's voice echo smoothly in his ear. When it was over, he played it again. And then again.

He played it until the tightness in his jeans became uncomfortable enough to drag him out of his fantasy. His eyes flew open, flitted automatically to the window over the garage of the house across the street – dark but for a faint blue glow. The television, he guessed.

He traced his erection through the rough cloth with his fingertips, scratching his fingernails along the length of the zipper. His mouth was dry and his pulse pounded in his temples. He closed his eyes and saw Drake's face.

"No," he said out loud, his voice forceful inside the quiet vehicle.

It was enough to snap him back into reality. He let out a ragged breath and raked a sweaty palm through his tousled blond hair, willing away his arousal.

He was hanging from a cliff by his fingertips. And he was losing his grip.

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