A/N: I had a different idea in mind when I started this fic, but the boys kind of wrote it for me. I didn't even include the main line that made me want to write it. It's a little PWP, but whatever--FLUFF! Happy New Year!
Happy New Year, Drake & Josh
Drake's first of January was not going well, and if it was any indication of how the rest of the year was going to be, he was pretty sure he didn't want to be around.
His initial dilemma as he'd woken up that morning--okay, afternoon--had been the drumbeat of a hangover rattling his brains. Mix that with the too-bright California sun and the fact that Josh was nowhere to be seen and couldn't fetch a cup of water and aspirin, and the result was one unhappy Drake.
Then, of course, there was the problem of Josh being missing altogether, not just from their room, but from the house, too, as Drake had discovered after he'd managed to get out of bed. Normally, they spent New Year's Day exchanging resolutions over snack foods (health food, in Josh's case), nestled closely on their couch with television reruns blaring in the background.
And as soon as he'd realized Josh was gone--"out, boobing around town," as Megan had put it--Drake had realized why their tradition wasn't in effect. He'd really screwed up this time.
Josh didn't come back until the sun was well into setting, his tall silhouette ricocheting off the glass of the front door and catching Drake's eye from where he sat in the living room, guitar laying forgotten next to his thigh.
Once Josh was inside, it took all of ten seconds for Drake to understand he was being avoided, especially since Josh's attempt to "sneak" up the stairs once he'd spotted Drake was more than a little bit failed.
"Josh," Drake called in exasperation, standing to follow his stepbrother, who immediately picked up the pace.
Drake reached their door just as it slammed shut, rolling his eyes at how childish Josh was being; immaturity was his job!
"Josh," Drake repeated as he entered the room, noting Josh's rigid form on the couch, back facing him. "Come on. You're not gonna turn this into some kinda . . . thing, are you?"
Drake could practically hear Josh's teeth grinding in distress. Obviously, he had, indeed, spent the whole day thinging up the situation.
"You know I was drunk, right?" Drake offered hopefully. "That makes it better, huh?"
Josh inhaled deeply but didn't turn around when he muttered tensely, "Nothing can make it better, Drake."
Drama queen, was Drake's first thought, but he had enough common sense to know saying that wouldn't go over well. "I think you're overreacting," he declared instead--so much for sense--and instantly wished he'd said something else, wondering where the hell he'd pulled that big word from, anyway.
As expected, Josh whipped around, panic evident on his face. "'Overreacting?' Overreacting!?" Josh's oversized head thrashed violently at the idea. "You kiss me in front of everybody, and you say I'm overreacting!? You are so wrong, mister! I think I'm probably underreacting! I think you're underreacting!"
Drake moved further into the room, closing the door behind him as he went. "It was just a kiss, dude. And it was New Year's. Nobody prolly even noticed," he deflected with his typical nonchalance, shoving his hands--with skill--into the pockets of his extra tight jeans.
"Everybody noticed!" Josh disagreed immediately, eyes wide and crazy.
Drake winced. "You have crazy eyes," he commented tactlessly.
Josh's eyes went wider and crazier as he started rising off the couch, and okay, Drake was kinda scared. "You have no sense of boundaries!" Josh shook a finger reproachfully. "You shouldn't drink!"
But Drake liked drinking. "Oh, c'mon. It's not like you never kissed me before," he snapped in his own defense. "And you were sober, so who has no boundaries now?"
Josh paced around the sofa, appalled that Drake would dare to use "the moment we will never mention again" as an argument. "You said we wouldn't--" The mentioning of that incident was not the main issue, here. "Oprah makes me do crazy things, Drake, and nobody even saw us--"
"Megan took pictures, dude. Or do you not remember because Oprah makes you blind, too?" Josh didn't have a response quick enough to cut off Drake's, "So, how is it any different?"
Oh, how Josh wished Drake hadn't asked that, because now he was forced to think about the real reason he was so upset about the whole thing--the real reason his kiss and Drake's kiss were miles away from one another on the Inappropriate Touching of One's Stepbrother spectrum.
Josh was cherry red and couldn't meet Drake's eyes when he answered, "You had your tongue in my mouth."
Drake double-took like he hadn't heard Josh right, like he hadn't been at the party that night, like he hadn't caused all this trouble by getting smashed and celebrating the stroke of midnight with his brother instead of some hot chick.
"See? It's totally different," Josh reiterated when Drake didn't respond.
"I-It's not . . ." Yeah, it totally was. "It was New Year's Eve. Everybody was kissing somebody."
Weak argument, yes, but it made Drake feel rather more certain that people hadn't videotaped--or photographed, Megan--his and Josh's spit-swapping, and it . . . Wait a minute.
"Josh, did you . . ." Man, was this gonna be awkward--well, more so, anyway. "Did you kiss back?"
Josh swallowed thickly, eyes like roadkill. "I--"
"'Cause the way I remember it," Slick teeth, a hand pulling Drake closer by his shoulder, the sweet pinch of leftover eggnog, lips working against his own, "you--"
"I was a little drunk, too," Josh lied. He definitely hadn't been.
"You definitely weren't," Drake called him out, moving nearer curiously. "You don't even drink."
"I do!" Josh cried, panicking even harder. "You kissed me!" he repeated desperately.
"And you kissed back!" Drake exclaimed, looking triumphant.
Josh was trying fruitlessly to heat-vision a hole into the floor, embarrassed beyond normal levels.
Drake managed to rearrange his grin into something more like a half-smile. "So, this is kind of a thing, then," he decided with a step toward the couch, toward Josh.
"A big thing," Josh murmured.
"'Cause you kinda liked it, right?" Drake watched Josh intently, amused by the blotchy color that entered his face, reddening his cheeks even more than before.
"What!? No!" was Josh's fervent response, accompanied by all the qualities of a lie--evasive gaze and fidgety hands included.
"I kinda liked it, too," Drake admitted, feeling a flush of his own and the rush of flurrying insects into his stomach. "That makes it better, huh?"
Josh's eyes quadrupled in size, and as he fish-mouthed before speaking, Drake really hoped he wouldn't say nothing could make it better again. "Y-you did?"
Drake's legs carried him forward until he was only a foot away from his stepbrother. "Yeah," he affirmed, unexpectedly nervous.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Drake echoed.
Josh finally looked at him straight-on, gulping. "Wha--uh, what happens now?"
Drake's grin was back in full bloom, and he pulled his hands out of his pockets, slowly opening his arms. He couldn't believe he was about to say, "Kiss me, Brotha?"
Josh almost laughed at the uncertain crack that followed the question but shifted into Drake's space all the same. His face held a serious cast as he rested a hand on Drake's waist, the other palming his jaw; if their New Year's-induced kiss had been "a big thing," he could only imagine how humongous this thing could end up being. But hell, he was only gonna live once, and Drake's brown eyes were almost black with anticipation. The way Josh saw it, the risk was worth it--Mindy, their parents, and the cameras Megan had probably hidden in their room aside.
Drake raised his eyebrows when Josh didn't move. "You just gonna stare at me all day? I mean, I know I'm hot, but--"
Cauterizing anything else he had to say, Josh's mouth slammed ardently against Drake's, all purposefully aimed tongue and aggressive teeth. Drake responded in kind, surprised--and turned on--by Josh's uncharacteristic ferocity. He threaded his fingers through long, black hair, and he let out a noise of agreement when Josh determinedly shoved him up against the back of the couch.
Drake had never thought it could be like this--rough and playful and vibrating with emotion. He'd never known anything but heartless, gentle kisses--no teeth, feather-light caresses, watch out for her nose. But this, this was--
Josh's fingertips dug into the back of Drake's neck, forcing their mouths impossibly closer together. Drake wasn't sure if it was just the lack of air getting to his lungs, but he was lightheaded, and his heart was racing in his ears. Josh delivered a particularly scalding bite to his lower lip, and his knees gave out, removing his balance and sending him toppling over the back of the couch with Josh in tow.
Sprawled and tangled and askewing the cushions beneath them, they reluctantly pulled away from their kiss and were quickly in hysterics, giddy with whatever was suddenly happening between them. Josh's chest heaved against Drake's, and even though their position was somewhat uncomfortable, they didn't make an effort to move. Their laughter died down into chuckles and then into trying to catch their breath, and soon, they were just lying there, beaming at one another and sharing air.
Drake licked his lips and reached up to push a hand through Josh's hair. "So, Josh," Drake began as Josh's eyes fluttered shut at his touch, "is this the best New Year's you ever had?"
Josh opened his eyes slightly, putting on a Drake-learned smirk and inching nearer. "It will be," he breathed as he closed the distance between them, "after this."