Prompt: Surprise! Your arch nemesis is at the door at a most inopportune moment! Now what?


"Oh, God, my eyes!"

Josh and Mindy spring apart as Drake throws one arm over his face, covering his eyes. He grins to himself as the soft, rustling whoosh of clothing being hurriedly pulled back into place fills his ears. When it stops, he lifts his arm a bit and peeks out from under it. "Is it safe to look now?" he says, holding back a laugh. Their faces are both pink, and they are sitting at opposite ends of the couch looking as though the idea of touching one another had never occurred to them. Josh even has an open magazine sitting in his lap.

"That's better." Drake lowers his arm. "You're lucky it's just me," he says, twirling his key ring on his index finger. "Why would you do that in the living room?"

"We weren't expecting you home so soon," Josh mumbles, turning a page in his magazine with such force Drake is surprised it doesn't rip free. "Megan went to bed early, and with Mom and Dad gone for the weekend --"

"No," Drake says, jabbing one finger in Mindy's direction. "I mean why would you do that in the living room?"

Mindy turns and shoots a glare in Drake's direction that could melt a block of ice. A big block of ice. "You know what, Drake?" she says, narrowing her eyes. "If I ever need a brain transplant, I'd choose yours because I'd want a brain that had never been used."

Drake pulls a face. "Aww, what's the matter, did you get up on the wrong side of your cage this morning?"

"So, Drake," Josh says loudly as Mindy takes a breath in preparation for the next salvo. "What brings you home so early? I thought you had a date."

"I did." Drake tugs his jacket off and tosses it on the dinner table. "But I'm totally beat from all the running around I did this week. I ditched her at The Premiere and came home to get some sleep."

"Ah, good," Josh replies. "Then you'll be heading on upstairs now, right?" He jerks his head in the direction of the stairs as he speaks, his lips set in a grim line.

"In a few." Drake grins slyly. "And what'll you two kids be up to down here?"

"Oh, you know," Josh says, waving one hand in the air. He's trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "This and that."

Drake crosses his arms across his chest. "I see. Hmm. You have protection, right? And by that, I mean a paper bag to put over her face, of course."

Mindy gives him a cold smile. "Why, Drake. I do believe you're jealous."

"Of you?" Drake jeers.

"Of the fact that Josh and I are here together, and you'll be upstairs all alone." Mindy juts her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"Oh, please," Drake says, rolling his eyes. "I'd rather be alone than hang out with you. And for your information, I do just fine on my own. I've got some amazing porn upstairs that I --"

"Excellent," she replies, cutting off the lie mid-stream. "Then you can finally have sex with someone you love."

Drake opens and closes his mouth like a winded fish, casting about frantically for a good comeback. "Oh, yeah?" he starts, and then falters.

"This would be a great time for you to become a missing person," Josh says. The magazine slips to the floor as he rises from the couch and points toward the steps.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going, I'm going." Stifling a sigh of relief, Drake turns and walks toward the arch leading to the stairs. "Just remember to keep your eyes closed, Josh. You don't want to burn out your corn... cobs, or whatever they're called."

"Corneas!" Josh and Mindy shout in unison as Drake starts up the steps.


"Megan, what are you doing in our room?"

She's sitting with her legs propped up on the couch, staring at the TV. "What does it look like?"

"Can't you watch that in your room?"

"No," she replies, her eyes still glued to the screen. "My TV's broken."

Drake glances toward the set and does a double-take. "Why are you watching Sesame Street?"

"Can't find the remote."

Drake blinks. "Oh. I see," he says, shaking his head. He crosses the room and climbs the ladder to his loft. "Time for you to go now."

"No."

"C'mon, Megan," Drake whines, collapsing on his bed. "I've gotta get some sleep."

She continues to stare at the screen without responding. Kermit the Frog is singing a love song about the letter M.

"Okay," Drake says wearily. "I'll drive you anywhere you want to go for a whole weekend if you'll get out of here right now."

"A month."

"A week."

"Two weeks."

"Ten days, and that's my final offer."

She finally looks up at him. "Done," she says, an evil smile curling her lips. Drake's stomach does a flip-flop. He should know better than to make an open-ended bargain with Megan like that. She'll probably drag him all the way to Alaska.

"Hey, hey, hey, turn off the TV before you go," he says as she rounds the couch and heads towards the door.

"No, I don't think so."

"Megan!"

"Our deal was that I would leave," she says, opening the door. "You didn't say anything about turning off the TV. Night, boob."

Drake groans and screws his eyes shut. He's so exhausted the trip down the ladder and across the room to the TV feels like the distance across the Grand Canyon. "Fuck it," he says, toeing off his sneakers. They fall to the ground at the foot of his bed with twin thuds, and he pulls the bedspread over himself. It's not the first time he's slept with the set on, and probably won't be the last.

Yawning, Drake rolls onto his back and settles his head back on his pillows. The mattress feels oddly lumpy tonight, and he shifts his hips, trying to find a more comfortable spot. No good. Something rough is digging into the small of his back. Drake slides his hands beneath his body and feels around. Aha. No wonder. He's still got his belt on.

A practiced flip of the wrist and he's got the buckle loose, but the length of the belt is pinned by his weight. He yanks at the buckle once, twice, three times with no success, and moans at the thought of the struggle it's going to take to get the thing free. He gives the buckle a few more half-hearted tugs and arches his hips up a bit, grunting with the effort, but it seems to have no give in it at all.

A sudden gasp from across the room makes his eyes fly open. Mindy is standing in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth. Josh is at her elbow with his mouth hanging open. Mindy recovers quickly and drops her hand, her lips twisted into a smirk. "Well, that didn't take long," she says, staring pointedly at Drake's midsection. The blanket is tented around his hands, which are still moving, seemingly of their own accord. Drake's heart slides into his stomach as he realizes what this must look like.

"Oh, no, you don't understand --" he says, but Josh cuts him off.

"Dude!" he shouts, waving his hands in the air. "Do you mind? The least you could do is stop it while we're standing here!"

Drake pulls his hands out from beneath the blanket and sits up in bed. "This isn't what it looks like," he says, yanking the bedspread up to his chest to cover himself, which he belatedly realizes is a ridiculous thing to do because he's still completely dressed.

"I hope not," Mindy replies, her eyes twinkling with malicious glee. "Because what it looks like is you jerking off to Sesame Street." All eyes turn toward the set, where Elmo is now dancing with a barnyard full of pigs. Drake's heart heads south of his stomach and down toward his knees. "Is this the amazing porn you were talking about?"

"I'm not --"

"It's your wish come true, Drake," Mindy crows. "You're finally going to be famous. You'll be the lead story in the school newspaper with this!"